Katie sat down on the floor, in the middle of the invoking circle.

The spell had two parts: the construction of the circles, and the recitation of the words. She had practiced both separately plenty of times. The circles were to be arranged and placed to the painfully exact specifications of the instructions, and the words were to be said loudly, clearly, and calmly. Her separate practice runs had been necessary to ensure she would be comfortable with both parts so she could easily do the whole spell.

Both circles had been arranged perfectly; now all that remained was the recitation.

She looked over to the summoning circle, and then down to the open book in her lap.

The words came easily, her tone of voice strong, her pace of reading steady. There were no instructions regarding which words, if any, were to be emphasized, so she made sure to maintain the same tone and pace.

The recitation was over quickly, and she looked back at the summoning circle.

The book had also not mentioned what the signs of a successful summoning spell would be. So, she had found herself imagining something unmistakable, like a booming voice or flames bursting to life around her.

What came instead, was silence.

She sat there, staring at the summoning circle, willing something to happen, even as disappointment swelled inside her. The logical, realistic voice in her head spoke up: ‘Of course nothing would happen, this was a fucking stupid idea, the book is just fantasy, written by crazy people who believe in magic and demons’.

And then she noticed something across the room.

On the far wall, a dark spot swirled into being, no bigger than her hand.

But then it grew.

At first, it began to spread out on the wall.

And then, as it blanketed more of the light blue, it began to stretch out into the room.

Katie watched, frozen in place.

The spot had swelled into a mass, and now was advancing.

She squinted, trying to peer through the encroaching darkness, heart racing.

A realization hit her when she could not see through it.

It was no simple darkness, for it did not simply extinguish the light around it, nor could her eyes adjust to it.

Rather, it was a slithering, creeping darkness, a mass of shadows. It coated the room, everything disappearing in its inky wake: the posters of musicians she had put up when she had moved in, the dresser to her right, even the floor before her.

She had kept the ceiling light and her bedside table lamp on, trading off the solemn atmosphere dimness would have created for better light to read by. The book had also not specified any atmospheric necessities, so she had not thought her bright room would be a deterrent to any summoned demon.

That brightness was no match for this darkness.

The ceiling light disappeared, the only light in her room now the bedside table lamp, fighting valiantly but hopelessly.

The mass of shadows reached and passed her. Despite an instinctive shudder running down her spine, there was no noticeable sensory difference, no coldness, no physical displacement. She sat on what had been the floor but was now shadows and watched the mass smother the rest of the room, her bed, her bedside table, finally reaching the near wall. Her bedroom was now a featureless, formless space, but somehow, despite the smothering darkness, she could see.

Fear gripped her, but it was accompanied by excitement, triumph, and satisfaction.

“Who has summoned me?”

Her head whipped to the left, where the voice had come from, but there was no one visible there.

“Speak your name.”

The voice was now in front of her, so she looked quickly, and gasped.

A vague shape stood out from the darkness. Although it seemed to be made up of the same shadows as the darkness, these shadows were swirling hypnotically.

At first, there was not much she could make out besides the vague shape itself.

But after a few seconds, the swirling shadows began to arrange themselves into an approximately humanoid figure.

First came the head, a sharp, tapered jawline leading along high, aristocratic cheekbones and up towards a wriggling mass of smaller shadows that seemed to simulate hair.

Down from the head, the rest of the figure arranged itself. The neck lead to a slim midsection, sinewy arms, and spindly-fingered hands. The lower half came last, the shadows creating long legs that ended in spindly-toed feet, the figure mirroring her cross-legged seated position. Somehow, there was a stark definition between the figure and the darkness around it, even as the shadows, liveliness aside, were the same.

“What is your name?”

The voice was deep and smooth, surprisingly pleasing to the ears. She leaned forward, and gasped again, as, as if sensing her attention, the shadows that made up its face swirled around to create two eyes, a strange glittering setting them apart from the rest of the face, and a mouth, a thin, sharp line simulating lips.

“Tell me your name.”

Those eyes stared straight at her, mysterious and inscrutable.

Their gaze jarred her from her reverie.

“Uh…Katie. My name is Katie.”

A short silence followed. She pinched herself subtly, checking if this was a dream.

“So then…Katie. You have a wish to be granted?”

“…yes.”

“What is it you desire?”

She hesitated.

Her first foray into music had come at eleven years old, when she had discovered a guitar that her father had given her mother years ago. It had been neglected for a long time, as her mother’s interest in it had been short-lived. But Katie had been curious, and so had learned how to play, first the basics, then certain songs. She had enjoyed that process and had started dreaming about becoming a rock star. The next step had been coming up with original music, which she had found difficult. Disheartened by that difficulty, she had put the guitar back in the attic, abandoning that burgeoning dream, and moved on to other pursuits.

“I want to have great musical talent. Songwriting, guitar playing, singing, performing.”

Her next foray into music had come during junior year of high school, after a talent show in which another student had shown off his own musical talent. Seeing that had made her think about the guitar and her abandoned dream, and a few days later, she had rescued the former from the attic. It had been easy enough to relearn how to play it, although there had been some rustiness. This time, she wrote a few songs as well, nothing deep or poetic, but simple expressions of her mindset, those mild successes increasing her desire to make a name playing music. At the next talent show, she had signed up, but unexpected stage fright had rendered her performance a flop. Aside from a few teasing comments, no one had made much fun of her, but the flop had made her give up on her dream once again.

“An easy wish to grant. Something many before you have asked for.”

She nodded.

“And you know the price?”

She nodded again.

The book she had found had contained different summoning spells. They were mostly the same but for the specific demon to be summoned. What set them apart was what they demanded as payment. One wanted the spellcaster’s soul, another the spellcaster’s body, another lifelong homage in the form of occasional blood sacrifices.

“You want my firstborn.”

“Yes. Do you agree to the terms of the contract? I grant you the great musical talent you desire, and in exchange, you give me your firstborn.”

She hesitated again.

Her third foray into music had come during sophomore year of college. One of her favorite bands had been playing near campus, so she had gone with friends. During the show, the lead singer had talked briefly about her stage fright, and how she dealt with it. Hearing that one of her personal heroes dealt with the same problem had inspired Katie to take up that old guitar again. The following summer had been spent relearning how to play once again and writing a few more songs. Her junior year had been spent trying to overcome stage fright, which she had managed. Part of the process had been simply playing in front of people, and thankfully, she had supportive, helpful friends who had been willing to watch her play until she felt confident enough to perform in public for lesser friends and outright strangers.

“I agree.”

The demon stared back at her, that glittering gaze eerily piercing.

“I must warn you that many who make this deal attempt to circumvent the terms by never having a child. You will find such an attempt will very likely fail. And in the slight chance your death bed finds you childless, well…there are fates worse than death.”

She nodded.

“I will honor our contract. You will have my firstborn.”

He nodded back at her, and then stood, the swirling shadows that made up his body unfurling sinuously. Her heartbeat thumped quicker as she trailed her eyes over that figure. It seemed to respond to her gaze, forming a more defined shape as well as texture.

The spell she had read in the book had been quite clear that the price of any exchange with this demon would be her firstborn child. It had been easy enough to mentally make that trade, in part because of her fervent desire for musical success, and in part because of her understanding that it was entirely possible that the spell was simply make-believe.

After graduation, she had committed to her dream, having kept stage fright at bay, performing in college talent shows and at local cafes regularly by the end of her senior year. But it had proven to be difficult, as although she was committed, her talent was not quite equal to that commitment. Constant practice helped, but after several years of trying to break through, she had found herself worrying that her dream was out of reach.

But now, it was within reach, albeit with a price.

The demon turned away, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the darkness receding, the blue of the far wall now visible.

“Wait!” she said quickly, her heart pounding against the inside of her chest.

The demon turned back and fixed its eyes on her. The darkness paused, an inch off the wall.

“You wish to reconsider?”

“No.”

When the demon stayed silent, she spoke up.

“You want my firstborn child, right?”

The demon nodded.

“Those are the terms of our contract, correct.”

She stood, and smoothed out her dress, a simple, comfortable outfit that showed off a bit of cleavage to boot.

That glittering gaze scared her slightly, but with her dream within reach, there was no hesitation as she padded forward, bare feet making no noise atop the shadows.

“So then, you can have my firstborn child.”

A few months ago, an elderly, slightly batty woman in her childhood neighborhood had died. Her mom had befriended the woman before her death, and since there had been no next of kin, she had decided to clean out the old woman’s house. She had dragged Katie along. The day had been uneventful, until Katie had found a box labelled ‘forbidden’ in the basement. In the box, which had been closed only by a few strips of duct tape, were several items, including a small statuette of a black goat, a silver ring set with a blood-red ruby, and a heavy, dusty book. Bored, and slightly interested, she had skimmed through the pages, chuckling at the stern foreword warning the reader of the danger of the knowledge the book could impart, and then had stumbled upon the chapters containing spells to summon a wish-granting demon. That idea, as ridiculous as it had seemed, had piqued her interest, so she had read on. Her interest had been offset by the price of each spell, until she had reached the chapter on this particular demon.

The demon cocked its head as she neared.

“Those are the terms, yes.”

She was now right in front of it. It was slightly taller than her, its frame slender, the shadows that made up that frame swirling lazily.

“There is a way we can arrange the contract,” she purred, reaching out with a trembling hand, “where you can have that firstborn sooner rather than later.”

Her hand met the demon’s chest, feeling solidness but no warmth. That glittering gaze looked back dispassionately.

“I will have your firstborn sooner or later,” the demon said, its voice calm and level. “It does not matter to me when.”

The introduction to the spell had simply said that the particular demon it summoned would take her firstborn child as recompense for a granted wish. There had been no specifications or other details, so she had resolved to interpret the wording in her own way and hope for an agreeable demon.

“We can cut out the middleman,” she told him, summoning a flirty smile.

“There is no middleman. We are the only two involved in this contract.”

Her hand trailed downwards, skimming over its stomach.

“What I’m trying to say,” she began, augmenting the smile with her best come-hither look, “is how about you give me my firstborn?”

Her hand, during the sentence, reached down past its stomach.

There were a few seconds of silence, during which she kept up the smile and look.

“Oh,” the demon said finally.

A few more seconds of silence followed.

“Oh,” it repeated, this time louder and more drawn-out, as if the full extent of her proposal had dawned on him.

The calmness in that gaze was replaced by interest.

“No one has interpreted the contract that way before.”

She shrugged.

“There weren’t specifics besides you getting my firstborn. I thought this might be more fun.”

“Fun?”

She nodded.

“Fun, interesting, strange. I’ve never been with a demon, and I don’t imagine you’ve ever been with a woman.”

“No, I have not.”

She summoned another flirty smile.

“So, what do you say? Do you agree to the terms of the contract?”

Although the only loophole she had found in the contract the book described was simply not having a child, she had figured that any demon worth its salt would be able to get around that. So, she had decided to interpret the wording this way. It would be easier to have the demon impregnate her. Not only would her payment for the granted wish be out of the way early on, but she would not have to worry about having children later in life out of necessity. And as long as she did not get attached to the child, it would be easier to hand them over without having to worry about their father. Even with her understanding that the spell was likely make-believe, and her fervent desire for musical success, sacrificing a child had not been a thrilling proposition, but she had told herself that it would already be half-demon anyway. Part of the equation as well was the idea of having sex with a demon, which to her lapsed Catholic sensibilities, had been surprisingly exciting.

She waited for the demon’s answer, fidgeting nervously.

Finally, it spoke up.

“Yes.”

The shadows making up its body began to change. As she watched, flesh replaced darkness.

In seconds, the demon had become human.

She stepped back to let her eyes slide down the new look: his physique was sleek and lean, his skin a pleasingly olive tone. Down between his legs, where before had been nothing, was an erect cock.

She took hold of it. The shaft was firm and warm, throbbing against her palm. She let her thumb tease over the head, feeling it twitch in her grip.

Biting her lip, her own arousal mounting, she looked back at the demon’s new face. Those striking facial features had remained, which gave him a strange, yet undeniably alluring, appearance. The wriggling shadows that had approximated hair had been replaced by actual hair, the dark, curly tresses reaching down to his shoulders. He met her gaze with his own, that inky glittering replaced by a bright blue.

She began to stroke along his length. He groaned softly and looked down to watch.

“Do demons have sex?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

“This will be a new experience for me.”

“I’ll try to take it easy on you.”

He ignored the joke, his attention squarely on what her hand was doing.

She stroked steadily, occasionally raking her eyes over the rest of his slender frame, appreciating his smooth, sinewy skin.

Underneath her dress, her thighs rubbed together. She had forgone underwear, since her hope had been that the encounter would go this way and she would not need any. Her nipples stiffened now from her excitement, the sharp buds pressing into the fabric of the dress.

She let go of his cock.

His disappointed grunt was soon replaced by a husky growl when she pulled her dress off and threw it aside.

She bit her lip at he gazed at her nakedness, lewd hunger springing to life on his face.

His hand reached out, and she stood still to let it land on her breast. A thrill ran over her at the thought of being felt up by a demon, but she did not move as a finger teased over her nipple, the sensation making her suck in a quick breath.

The demon looked up at that reaction, a pleased smile blooming on his lips.

His finger rubbed lightly at the nipple, and then his other hand went to her other breast. Where the first was curious, the second was more assertive, squeezing and kneading, her pliant flesh dimpling in his grip. She cooed, seeing hunger mingle with delight in his eyes. Her thighs rubbed together again, slickness gathering on her sex.

She took hold again of his cock, his eyes flitting to lock with hers for a few seconds before moving back to her breasts. As he caressed and groped at them, she worked her hand along his cock, biting her lip at how it pulsed against her palm.

The more assertive hand slid down from her breast. She shivered as it reached her sex, its fingers trailing atop the soaked folds. A moan tumbled from her, and her hand began to move quicker along his shaft, making him moan in turn.

Two fingers ran over her slit and eased through. She shivered again as her channel welcomed them. He curled them against her walls, making her moan again.

The fingers slipped from her. He looked at them curiously, and then brought them to his lips. The eager slurping that followed thrilled her, her arousal building higher.

She pressed closer to him.

They sank to their knees together, and she pushed him down onto his back on the floor of shadows.

He watched as she leaned over and sucked the head of his length into her mouth. There was a very slight flavor there, her tongue swirling around to gather more of it. He groaned, his back arching, his hips jutting up. She placed a hand on his stomach, splaying her fingers out over those tensing abs, and pushed down. The message was received, his body dropping back to a flat position. Her other hand wrapped around the base of his length and slid up. As he groaned again, but stayed still, she dropped her mouth down, meeting her hand partway.

Her hand and mouth worked together, treating him to a steady rhythm. He went up carefully on his elbows to better watch her, and she delighted in the expressions that played over his face, the pleasure, the surprise, the curiosity. His groans kept coming, some loud and lewd, others soft and breathy.

She soon detected another flavor meeting her tongue and drew back in time to see a bead of pre-cum seep from the head of his length. That bead fell prey to her tongue like its predecessor.

“Are you ready?” she asked, moving to straddle him, letting his straining cock rest against her belly.

His eyes widened, and he nodded.

She wrapped a hand around his cock, raised her hips, and lined it up to her dripping slit.

One downward shove brought her halfway down his length.

Her breathless cry was met by his satisfied sigh. She put her hands on his chest, fingers curling atop the firm flesh there.

His cock throbbed inside her, so hot, so hard.

Another downward shove brought her all the way down, easily taking it inside her. She swayed unsteadily. As she threw her head back, luxuriating in the sensations, his hands landed on her hips, squeezing curiously.

When she let her head fall forward, she noticed him staring up at her, an exultant look on his face.

“How’s it feel?” she asked.

“Warm,” he murmured. “And wet. And tight.”

She ground down against him, her pussy clutching at his shaft.

“How about that?”

His eyes fluttered shut, and a noticeable shudder ran over him.

“That feels good. Very good. Please do it again.”

“So polite.”

She rocked her hips, working them slowly, bringing her channel along his shaft just a bit.

His eyes opened, and fixed on her, first her face, and then trailing down to her breasts, watching them sway to her movements.

She picked up speed a bit.

“Mm, that feels good,” he murmured, “very good.”

She giggled at the earnestness.

“You want it slow,” she asked coquettishly, “or fast?”

He took a few seconds to decide.

“Slow, please.”

“Okay then.”

Her hips slowed, returning to the languid pace, grinding down against him.

She plucked his hands from her hips and brought them to her chest.

His fingers curled into the soft swells of her breasts before he even noticed what she had done. The mindless appreciation made her giggle again.

“You like them?”

He nodded, letting go of her breasts to watch them jiggle slightly, and then taking hold of them again. His thumbs rubbed at her nipples, the deft motions surprising her.

A quiver ran over her from the steadily rising pleasure. The exquisite delight of the sensations and the wicked rush of this unnatural coupling worked together to push that pleasure higher.

Her pussy clutched at his shaft, sending out copious juices to dapple it. She maintained a steady, languid pace, her hips working sinuously atop him, her hands resting on his chest.

His attention was entirely on her breasts, alternating between kneading at them, and teasing at their nipples. He watched them closely as well, enamored with how her body reacted to his touch, purring every time her breasts bounced when he let them fall from his grip, sighing every time her back arched to push them forward, groaning every time she shivered at a caress.

And then he sat up and buried his face in her cleavage.

His arm wrapped around her back, one of hers returning the favor, bringing them together securely.

She giggled at his enthusiasm, feeling his mouth roam all over her breasts, peppering them with kisses.

Her hips stilled, leaving his twitching shaft buried inside her.

His mouth locked on a nipple, sucking at the stiff bud. She pressed closer to him, letting her free hand slide over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the firmness of his flesh, the husky rumble in his throat as he growled around his mouthful. That sound was thrilling, the note of unmistakable satisfaction there, the pure desire evident in how he suckled at her breast, utterly enraptured by how her nipple felt in his mouth.

She started the pace back up, working her hips against him, feeling his cock throb in response.

His mouth left her nipple and moved to her other breast.

She curled a hand into his hair and tugged pointedly before he reached the nipple.

When he did not move, instead closing his lips on it, she tugged harder, pulling him off her breast.

The look in his eyes, of awe, of passion, of lust, made her moan.

She kissed him, pressing at the back of his head to keep him close, that maneuver unnecessary as he kissed back eagerly. Her tongue nudged at his lips, and he opened them, letting it slide in and over his. As they kissed, the hand that he had kept at her hip snuck up to her breast, and stroked tenderly, rubbing over the nipple he had been deprived of.

Her pleasure rose higher. His cock throbbed stronger.

She broke the kiss and stared into the brilliant blue of his eyes.

“Are you close?”

A brief confusion reigned over him for a few seconds.

“Yes,” he finally said.

She pushed at his chest, sending him down again on his back.

Her hips picked up speed until she was bouncing energetically, her pussy sliding along his length.

He grunted and groaned, squirmed and shuddered, his hands taking hold of her hips to help keep her steady.

She let a hand drift from his chest to her sex.

As she rode his cock, she found her clit.

A fiery spark shot through her nerves as she rubbed at the sensitive nub.

The pleasure built quicker, pushing her closer and closer to climax. The same was happening to him, his face drawn into an expression of sheer delight, his cock jumping and pulsing.

“Come on,” she urged him breathlessly, “cum inside me…”

His eyes widened, staring up at her, a low moan tumbling from his gasping lips.

“Give me my firstborn…”

The moan became a soft cry, and he bucked his hips, meeting her halfway.

The first spurt of warmth burst out, splattering through her channel, the potent heat making her quiver, her climax so close.

Her fingers rubbed harder at her clit, more spurts following the first.

A strong orgasm struck her, halfway through his, her pussy spasming around his shaft, the added tightness and wetness making him growl, his hips bucking again.

She cooed, stopping the pace to grind down against him, luxuriating in her orgasm and the continued spurts. A sudden, wicked thrill ran over her, at the knowledge that they were searching out her unprotected womb to consummate this strange union.

As the orgasm ran its course, she looked down at the demon, drinking in the ecstatic expression on his face, his eyes aimed at her but not quite focusing.

They came down from the heights of pleasure together. She sighed, the orgasm bleeding into afterglow.

After a few more seconds of indulging in the afterglow, she lifted her hips, letting his softened length slip from her.

His eyes focused on her again.

As she smiled at him, he placed a hand on her belly.

A slight warmth seeped into her skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

“You wanted me to give you a firstborn,” he answered matter-of-factly, “so I am making sure our union results in a child.”

“Wait, no, don’t do that,” she said quickly, grabbing his hand and pulling it off her.

He frowned.

“I thought you wanted me to give you your firstborn.”

“Yes, I do.”

“So then, I shall ensure our union is fruitful.”

She shook her head.

“No, I don’t want you to.”

“Why not?”

She let a mischievous smile tug at her lips.

“Are you really only going to fuck me the one time?”

“Our contract calls for me to give you your firstborn. We only need to…fuck…the one time.”

She rolled her eyes and slid her hands up his stomach.

“You know, humans don’t just have sex to make babies. We also do it for pleasure.”

He glanced down to her hands as they settled on his chest, and then back at her.

“Yes, I am aware.”

“So then, why don’t we go a few more rounds?”

He stared back at her.

“Those ’rounds’ will not necessarily ensure pregnancy, even if you are fertile. Our contract is clear that I am to give you a firstborn, and such is my intent.”

She smiled.

“It’s my intent too. But our contract isn’t clear about the specifics. It doesn’t say, for example, that we fuck once, and then you use your powers to make sure I get pregnant. So, why don’t we go a few more rounds?”

“How many did you have in mind?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t have a number in mind.”

“And how do you propose we ensure your pregnancy?”

Her smile returned.

“Well, why don’t we leave it up to chance?”

He shook his head vehemently.

“You are to have a child by me. That is our contract. Do not try to wiggle out of it by proposing we ‘leave it up to chance’.”

It was her turn to shake her head.

“I’m not trying to wiggle out of it. But our contract doesn’t say anything about specific timing, or about this particular time having to end with me being pregnant. And, you said yourself earlier, it doesn’t matter to you when you get my firstborn. You will sooner or later.”

He stared up at her but stayed silent.

“So,” she pressed on, “why don’t we fuck a few more times, or a bunch more, and then see what happens? I’ll know in a week or two whether or not I’m pregnant…if this works the same way human sex does. And if I’m not pregnant from this, just come on back. I want you to get me pregnant, but we don’t have to rush it. Especially if the timing doesn’t matter to you and isn’t specified in our contract.”

He stayed silent for a few more seconds.

“Why do humans love to negotiate?” he finally asked, a slight tone of exasperation in his voice. “It rarely works.”

“Do you agree to the terms of the contract?” she asked, trying not to smirk.

“Yes,” he sighed.

She let the smirk spread over her mouth.

“Good.”

As he pursed his lips, she slipped off him, and lay down next to him.

“So, what’s it like being a demon?”

He looked over at her in bewilderment.

“Like, what’s your day-to-day? What do you do?”

He shrugged, still taken aback.

“I observe.”

“What do you observe?”

“Those I am contracted with.”

“So, you’re going to observe me?”

He nodded.

“I would make sure you honor our contract and make it difficult for you to escape its terms if necessary. Many who make these deals come to regret them sooner or later.”

“Do you like it?”

He scrunched his nose in a disbelieving expression.

“What sort of question is that? Do you like your existence?”

“Yeah, sure, I guess. Life’s nice. There’s…friends, family, music, sex…pizza.”

His disbelieving expression continued.

“Whether or not I like my existence matters not.”

“So, if you observe humans, that means you’ve seen some slices of life, right?”

He hesitated, and then nodded.

“Ever been tempted to try it out for yourself?”

“Occasionally.”

“Why haven’t you?”

He frowned.

“Is this an interrogation? Why are you so fascinated with my existence?”

She giggled at his reaction.

“Because you’re a freaking demon. Like, it’s supernatural, otherworldly shit. It’s interesting.”

“My existence is vastly different from yours. More than you could possibly imagine. The basic elements of your world, time, space, life, death, we don’t experience them. I could live as one of you, but you could never live as one of me.”

“I can still be interested.”

He groaned in slight annoyance.

“So, why haven’t you tried out human life for yourself? Are you scared you’ll like it?”

He looked over quickly at her.

“No,” he said, surprisingly defensively, “but…I have known others who have tried such a thing. The reactions were…split. Some enjoyed it thoroughly, others hated it. I do not know how it would be for me, and I am comfortable with my…existence, as it is.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and traced a hand idly over his chest.

“May I ask you a question now?” he began. “Or is there more to this interrogation?”

“Go for it,” she shot back, smirking.

“Would I be correct in assuming that your desire for musical talent is related to a desire for fame?”

She hesitated.

“Sort of, yeah, I guess. Mostly I just want to make a living playing music, and it’s hard to do that in shitty bars.”

He looked over at her.

“I have dealt with many humans who wanted fame or wanted something that would lead to it. Why is recognition so important to humans?”

“Hmm. Well, I can’t speak for everyone…but I think people just like being noticed. Some want that more than others, but I think everyone wants it to a degree. Attention, love, plus money doesn’t hurt. For me, I love making music, and I want to make a career out of it, and I need to be well-known for that.”

He nodded slowly.

“So,” she began, letting her hand trail down until it reached his softened length, “are you ready for the next round?”

He nodded, this time confidently.

His length twitched in her hand, and then swelled, returning to full size in seconds.

She sat up, and raked her eyes over his body, appreciating the smooth skin and lean muscles.

A thought struck her.

“You know,” she began, “you’re hot, but why don’t you show me the real you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You could not conceive of my true form. Were I to show it to you, your mind would collapse in on itself and you would lose all sanity you possess.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she joked.

His eyebrow stayed raised.

“Why don’t you show me your shadow self, then? The form you appeared to me in.”

“You would not rather I stay in this form?”

She shook her head.

“Very well,” he said, uncertainty in his voice.

His olive skin began to swirl before her eyes, morphing into shadows. In seconds, he was back to the form he had first appeared in, his body made up of darkness, the nebulous whorls approximating a humanoid figure. Her hand had not moved from his cock, but there was no change in anything but appearance, that shaft now a stiff spear hewn from shadows but still warm and firm.

The dual glittering voids that were his eyes stared up at her. Somehow, she detected more uncertainty.

She straddled him, finding the same solidness as before underneath her, her body meeting his.

Her hand kept his cock steady as she lined herself up to it, that head meeting her slit.

There was nothing indicating any supernatural details, only a hard heat.

But she was staring down at him, at his shadowy flesh, into his inhuman eyes, and now, there was no escaping the wicked nature of this coupling.

She worked her hips against his cock, rubbing her slit over its head, wetness building at her sex.

He groaned, taking hold of her hips, his uncertainty dissipating.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yes,” he growled.

His uncertainty dissipated further, until it was replaced by desire.

She shoved herself down onto his cock.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Oh, he’s so beautiful!” her mom squealed.

Katie gazed down at the newborn baby in her arms as he squalled and squirmed.

“Look at all that hair, oh, he’s such a handsome little devil!”

“Hi there,” she murmured, drinking in every little detail, from his tiny, scrunched-up face, to his little limbs waving and kicking, to the cute slight paunch of his belly.

It had only taken the nine rounds of that one encounter for her to get pregnant. She had been slightly disappointed, as the idea of a demon stealing into her room at night to impregnate her had been surprisingly and somewhat embarrassingly arousing.

The pregnancy had been normal enough aside from her cravings for the previously unthinkable combination of onions and chocolate. Her family and friends had been understanding even when she had told them she was not sure who the father was. She had even started to make inroads in her music career, the talent that the demon had given her quickly put to good use, Katie writing and performing well into her pregnancy. And although there had been no contact from the demon, sometimes, when she had woken up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom or from discomfort, some of the shadows in her bedroom had seemed to swirl and glitter.

“I’ll go tell everyone the good news,” her mom said then, kissing her on the forehead before rushing towards the door.

A few seconds later, Katie found her eyes drawn over to the door, which was half-open, her mom in the process of leaving the room, but now frozen in place, much like the doctor and the nurses.

Across the room, on the far wall, a dark spot appeared.

She watched in resignation as that familiar darkness spread, coating everything in shadows, the doctor, nurses, and her mom disappearing along with the equipment and the bed, until she was left holding her baby in that familiar featureless space.

To her right, shadows began to swirl, and a figure formed.

Glittering eyes stared at her.

A few seconds of quiet followed, as her baby’s cries calmed into coos.

“You know,” she began slowly, gazing down at him, “I did my best to not get attached…I really did. Every time I thought about him growing inside me, or felt him kicking, or saw how excited my parents were, I told myself I would have to give him up. But now, seeing him, holding him, hearing him…”

She looked back up at those glittering eyes, shifting her arms slightly as her baby squirmed.

“This is the price,” that deep voice said gently. “Our contract is clear.”

She shook her head, feeling tears threaten to build. An idea sprung up in her mind.

“The contract says you get my firstborn. It’s not clear how you get it.”

“I get it from you. You are to hand the babe over.”

She shook her head again.

“There’s another way you can have my firstborn.”

She heard a very soft sigh.

“You wish to change the terms of our contract again?”

“The terms are vague,” she shot back, “maybe intentionally so.”

“What are these new terms?”

“Raise him with me.”

Those glittering eyes blinked in surprise.

“He’s already yours, but if you raise him, he truly becomes your child. You get him, which is the base of the contract. And if that doesn’t satisfy you, well, you said yourself that it doesn’t matter when you get him, because you’ll get him sooner or later. You’d just have to wait sixty, seventy, eighty years, however long he lives for, and then he’s yours when he dies. Eighty years should mean nothing to you. Time doesn’t affect you like it does me.”

The demon stared at her, but stayed silent, so she pressed on.

“And you said yourself you’ve been tempted to experience human life, but you don’t know how it would be. I can help you. I can be your guide. Raise him with me, be with me, live like a human for however long you want. Think of it like a vacation. And we can have sex pretty much whenever we want…not right away, but after a little bit. You enjoyed having sex. A lot.”

“You would have me raise your child with you?”

“Our child. I would have you raise our child with me.”

A slice of a shadow raised, as if in approximation of an eyebrow.

“I have no experience raising children. I would not make a proper father.”

“I don’t have any experience either. We can learn together. You can become a proper father.”

Another soft sigh followed.

“Our contract is not specific,” she said resolutely.

“If you ever deal with my kind again, I would advise you to not be so…interpretative. Others might not tolerate it as I have.”

“I don’t care about what others think, I care about what you think.”

Her baby cooed. She glanced down at him and then back up at his father.

“Raise him with me. He can be yours that way.”

A third sigh came from the shadows.

“Do you agree to the terms of the contract?”

A silence fell in the dark, featureless space for a few painfully, agonizingly long seconds.

“Yes.”

Katie smiled, feeling a weight she had not even noticed lift off her shoulders.

“Do you want to hold him?”

The demon hesitated, and then reached out.

She beamed, and carefully transferred their baby over.

Their baby cooed again, staring up squinty eyed at his father, receiving a similarly inquisitive gaze in turn.

“What will you tell everyone about me?” the demon asked her.

“I’ll figure something out. I told them I wasn’t sure who the father was, so there’s some room to work with. You’ll just have to get used to your human form.”

His shadows began to swirl, and seconds later, his human form stood before her, olive skin, curly hair, and lean physique the same as it had been during their lustful encounter. Their baby babbled incoherently.

“So,” Katie began, “we have something else to figure out, something very important.”

The demon glanced over at her.

“What?”

“What to name him. Any ideas? Oh, and what’s your name, by the way?”

THE END