Hospitality

Hospitality

The devil regarded her cooly across the desk, his long elegant fingers steepled. “It’s imperative that you be certain before signing this contract. The terms are quite binding.”

Hospitality squirmed in her chair, uncertainty bubbling in her stomach. Signing away her soul was terrifying, even if it was only temporary. She stared down at the contract, the thick sheaf of paper covered in dense lines of Fraktur script, clause after clause after clause of demonic legalize. She’d read the contract carefully, the devil had insisted, and it was all very standard. Hospitality Jones would lease away her soul for five years, during which time she’d be indentured body and soul to this devil, hereafter her Patron. At the end of the contract her soul would be returned to her and she’d be handsomely compensated for her time. Remunerated in a way that would solve the financial ruin of her life and let her start over. Hospitality shivered, it was scary but necessary. 

Hospitality lifted up the razor sharp quill, paused, “And this won’t harm my soul?”

The devil shook his handsome head slightly, “No, your soul will be unblemished by its time in my care.” The devil smiled a perfect little smile and his glowing red eyes sparkled. “Your mind will remain here on the Corporeal Plane with your body, so your soul will lack any awareness of its time in my care.”

Hospitality nodded nervously. She knew that demonic magic worked on the basis of exchange, and that ownership of her soul would give her Patron the power to change her body and warp reality around her. Hospitality had made peace with that aspect of this arrangement, but her lapsed Christian upbringing still worried her. “What will you use my soul for? When you have it, I mean.”

The devil smiled charmingly, flashing sharply pointed teeth. “Most humans don’t ask about that,” he confessed. He stroked his immaculate goatee with a pale hand. “On the Corporeal Plane souls are valuable as currency, but in Hell they are the very stuff of power. They are perpetual energy, like electricity that generates itself.” The devil’s eyes burned passionately, “My role here on Earth is to acquire souls for my Liege, legally of course, via brokered agreement, so that he might use them to power his Infernal Kingdom in Hell.”

“So my soul will be used as energy?”

“Indeed.”

“And that won’t like, deplete it?”

“Not in the slightest, Ms. Jones.”

Hospitality nodded, that all made a kind of sense to her and fit with what she’d heard. She took a deep breath, stuck out her tongue for concentration, and drove the spiked quill into her thumb, hissing as the small cut bled into the capillaries of the writing implement like ink. The devil leaned forward, eyes hungry. She smoothed the signature page of the contract, smearing it slightly with her blood. The devil subtly licked his lips, his short black horns catching the light. Hospitality paused, “And what’s in it for you?”

“Pardon?”

“I get out of my debts, your boss gets my soul, but what do you get out of this?”

The devil chuckled, “Wealth, my dear, material wealth. As long as my work keeps me bound to the Corporeal Plane, I intend to live in absolute decadent luxury.” He smiled showing his fangs, “Once you transact your soul to me, I will have the power to make both of us quite wealthy.”

Hospitality nodded, pressed the bloody nib of the quill to the contract, carefully signed her name. She felt something like a chill pass through her “So that’s it, then.”

“Indeed it is, Ms. Jones.”

“Please, call me Hospitality.”

“Tell me, Hospitality,” her Patron said with smug satisfaction, “What do you know of the hotel business?”

***

Juliette climbed out of the cab and looked up at the hotel with concern. It was a rather small hotel, narrow and only six stories tall, insinuated between larger buildings. The entrance and lower floors were clad in dark stone masonry with vaguely gothic styling and wide lancet windows. Higher stories were smooth and dark red, like concrete painted with wine, and had gothic flourishes at the windows and along prominent belt courses. The roof line featured a circular rose window in a central peak set into a steeply pitched mansard roof with lancet dormers. The top of the roof was edged with wrought iron filigree and decorated lithe feminine gargoyles posed flirtatiously. Written in a long decadent script above the heavy stone arch entryway was the word ‘Amadouer’. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected when she received the invitation from Hospitality. “Are you entirely sure this is the right place?”

“Look lady, this is the address you wanted.” The cab driver grumbled as he lifted her wheelie bag out of the trunk and placed it on the sidewalk, “Whether you want to be here or not is entirely your problem.”

“But, well, it looks rather demonic doesn’t it?” 

“Sure does,” the cabby agreed sourly as he climbed back into his car and slammed the door. He put the cab in gear and sped away, abandoning Juliette and her baggage. Juliette swallowed and looked up at the Amadouer, stared up with dismay at the playfully leering gargoyles. She nodded, grabbed the telescoping handle of her wheelie bag, snapped it up, and took an uncertain step toward the hotel. “I guess we press on then.” Juliette bumped her suitcase up a handful of stone steps and approached the heavy wooden doors. She reached out to push, but the doors smoothly opened, as if by some silent automatic mechanism. Juliette flinched, smiled ruefully and shook her head, and then she stepped over the threshold into the hotel.

The lobby of the Amadouer had the quality of all hotel lobbies, it was at once pleasantly anonymous and yet so quintessentially a hotel lobby that it felt to Juliette like visiting a familiar place. Like all boutique hotels the Amadoeur clearly had pretensions towards uniqueness and expressed those as quirky design choices. The floor was red marble shot through with darker red veins and the walls were painted a warm charcoal grey, the better to showcase several large expressionist canvases of fiery paint splatters, like abstract infernos. The lobby had the usual tastefully minimalist furniture, arranged for a friendly hangout that never seemed to materialize. Juliette noticed the couches appeared to be covered in rough black gatorskin leather, although if it was genuine, it came from a reptile of incredible size. The chairs were simple and wooden, a bit artfully strange in that cliche designy way, but also sort of brutal, as if they belonged in a dungeon. Snakeplants were spread liberally throughout the space, their twisted succulent blades a low maintenance gesture to greenery. The combined effect was a little disquieting; it was like entering the upscale, intentionally designed lobby to Hell itself. “Though I walk through the lobby of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil…” Juliette snorted, she was being silly and letting her prejudices run wild with her imagination. A demonic hotel was just a hotel, even if the lobby was a bit garish. She rolled her eyes and made for the front desk, her heels clicking loudly on the red marble floor and her suitcase wheels purring in her wake.

Juliette turned a corner and there was the front desk staffed by a smiling Hospitality Jones. A very polished, very professional looking Hospitality, like a grown up version of her friend. Her black hair was worn long in loose curls that cascaded past her shoulders and framed her face. A face that was lean and mature, expertly touched up by subtle makeup, highlighted by smokey eyeshadow and bright red lipstick. She was wearing a smart black jacket and a bright red dress, cut for business but tight enough to be a little naughty, and what had to be a truly devious push-up bra underneath. Hospitality looked good, really good, like she’d taken up a serious spin class habit and invested in some beauty lessons. Juliette smiled, opened her mouth to say something, and then noticed the horns: the lacquered black ram horns growing out of Hospitality’s skull and curling back around her ears. Demonic horns. Demonic horns growing from her best friend. Her best friend who was a demoness. “Oh my God, Hope!”

Hospitality giggled, “God’s got nothing to do with it.”

“You sold your soul!”

“Technically I leased it.” Hospitality smiled, flashing cute little fangs, “I’m so glad you came! I’ve missed you.”

“Um?” Juliette was stunned, at a loss for words, just standing there in the lobby completely gobsmacked. When Hospitality had invited her for a free stay at her hotel, it had seemed like a fun distraction from her heartache. She’d see Hope and do a little sightseeing, maybe take in a show or do some shopping or visit a museum, and at least get out of her too empty apartment with its sad memories of happier times. A fun vacation from herself basically. But instead Hospitality was a demoness and her accommodations were hellish. “I missed you too,” she eventually managed.

Hospitality giggled and gestured broadly with perfectly manicured hands, “I know it’s an adjustment, but welcome to the Amadouer!”

“Ah-mah-doer…”

Hope snickered and a long red barbed tail lashed the air behind her. “Amadouer,” she corrected breezily, “it’s French.”

“I see?”

“Why don’t we get you checked in and set up with a room? Give you a chance to decompress a little.”

Juliette nodded eagerly, “Yes please.” Anything for a moment to get her feet back under her. “That would be lovely.”

Hospitality nodded and as if by magic produced a contract and pen on the desk. She squared the paper and slid it toward Juliette, “I’ll need you to sign in blood, of course.”

Juliette recoiled a little, “Um?”

Hospitality giggled, “I’m joking! Nothing devilish about this contract, just the usual boilerplate about not wrecking the room, checkout times, and the rest. If you can just sign here…” Which Juliette obediently did, only hesitating slightly. “Great! Then here is your key,” Hospitality said brightly, holding out a black metal necklace with an inverted cross amulet.

Juliette studied the profane pendant dubiously, “Key?”

Hospitality smiled brightly, baring her fangs. “One of the advantages of being an arcane hotel: no keys or swipey cards. The door to your room, 666, one of my nicest, will recognize your amulet and unlock itself.”

Juliette nodded, smiled, “That’s convenient.”

“I know.” The contract vanished in a blink. “Now wait a second and I’ll summon a bellhop to take you to your room.”

Juliette pouted, “Can’t you bring me up?” She wanted to give Hope a hug and talk to her about all this. Ideally without having to wait for her shift to be over. She rather felt like she was owed a debriefing.

Hospitality smiled breezily and shook her head, her beautifully styled hair swaying. “I’m afraid I’m rooted to the front desk.” 

“Surely you can step away for a moment?”

Hospitality smirked and pointed down below the desk with one red painted sharp finger nail. “Look for yourself.”

“What?” Juliette placed her hands on the desktop and went onto her tiptoes to peek over. She blinked, confused at first. She couldn’t see Hospitality’s feet or legs, just a smooth pillar of red marble stone growing straight out of the floor. Hope reached down and lifted the hem of her tight red dress slightly, revealing that her thighs were a single column of flesh that melded smoothly into the pillar. Juliette gasped, Hospitality, her friend, was literally built into the floor like a fixture. “Oh my God…”

“Wrong team,” Hope reminded playfully.

Juliette stared at her friend and felt sick to her stomach. What the hell had her friend done to herself? This was ghastly…

“Did someone ring for a bellhop?” Said Hospitality’s voice from behind her.

Juliette looked at Hope who just smiled and shrugged, and then swung around to see another separate Hospitality standing at attention, waving her fingers hello. This Hospitality had bright red skin, stylish chin length straight black hair with bangs, and was wearing a very smart charcoal grey bellhop uniform with black accents. She had short little backswept red horns sprouting from her forehead and a sinuous red tail that ended in a stereotypically diabolical spade. The bellhop Hope wasn’t wearing shoes, and instead her bare feet ended in dainty cloven hooves, like inbuilt high heels. She was also, Juleitte finally noticed, wearing a ridiculous little grey cap. Where the front desk Hospitality looked like a polished version of her friend, this new Hope had the rounder face and boyish air of her normal self, albeit covered in red bodypaint. “What the hell?”

“That’s more like it,” desk clerk Hope agreed merrily.

“What is going on? Why are there two of you!?”

“Both are me,” Desk clerk Hospitality explained.

“I have multiple bodies, but only a single mind.” Bellhop Hope added helpfully.

“Glah…” Juliette said, tongue as confused as the rest of her.

Both Hospitalitys giggled in uncanny synchronicity. “It’s pretty wild isn’t it?” Desk Hope asked with a fanged smile. 

“But why?”

“Well,” Bellhop Hope said, “It’s not as if she’s much help hanging around the desk all day...” Desk Hope stuck out a forked tongue and pouted. “But really, it’s more like I’m the entire hotel and also the entire staff.”

“So you’re both you?”

“We’re all me, yeah.” Both Hopes replied together.

“Hospitality Jones, what reckless mess have you gotten yourself into now?”

“What can I say? Prudence is one of my sisters.” Bellhop Hope grinned and drew Juliette into a big hug. Up close she smelled like shampoo and something spicy with a harsh note of sulfur. Juliette clutched her friend back, happy to see her despite everything. “Now c’mon, let’s give your luggage to the Porter and get you to your room!”

Juliette flushed, “There’s really no need… I just have the one wheelie…” But Bellhop Hope was already trotting away pulling her bag, tail swaying and hooves clopping on the floor. Juliette scrambled to catch up and Hope winked back over her shoulder, “What’s the point of having a Porter body if no ever uses her?” 

Hospitality drew up in front of a coat check alcove, and stretching out with great exaggerated grace, gently tapped a call bell. As the cheerful ding faded a face appeared in the alcove. “Yeah? What?” Juliette gasped and took a step backward; the face was bestial and menacing, and the creature who emerged through a previously hidden door was hulking and enormous. The Porter was seven feet tall and muscular like a bodybuilder. She had bright red skin and two enormous prize bull sized horns growing from her skull. She had four powerful arms and sturdy bovine legs with wide, heavy hooves, and a long reptilian tail with a barbed scorpion tip. The Porter was squeezed into a grey uniform like the Bellhop, but sleeveless and stretched tight over her muscles and the bulge of four large breasts. The Porter’s face was broad with a strong chin and flat wide nose with a heavy septum piercing. Her mouth was wide and she had sharp tusks that jutted over her lips. The Porter’s amber eyes smoldered under a heavy brow. Juliette tried not to cower.

“Suitcase for you,” Bellhop Hospitality said brightly, brandishing Juliette’s bag. The Porter grunted and lifted the bag, it’s erstwhile practical size now made tiny by the scale of her clawed demonic hands. She held the bag up in front of her chest, clutched almost daintily. Juliette had to smile a little, the level of over qualification on display had reached comedy. Seeing the wry look of amusement on the Porter’s own monstrous face, Juliette recognized something of Hospitality in her features, her friend bulked up by infernal steroids or demonic gamma rays. “Thank you,” she said.

“It’s nothing,” rumbled the Porter.

“Come along, please,” Bellhop Hope chimed briskly and began leading Juliette and the Porter toward the elevator bank. As they walked a beautiful woman in a tight red dress walked by. Juliette marveled a little, the woman was radiantly attractive and had centerfold proportions, easily one of the most glamorous women she’d ever seen in teal life. As the woman clicked past on outrageously elegant pumps, Juliette noticed she had a sinuous spade-tipped tail and cute little horns peaking out of her lustrous blonde hair. Another demoness. “One of yours?” Juliette asked quietly.

The Bellhop giggled and the Porter made a noise between a chuckle and a growl. “No, she’s a guest. Works in marketing, I think.”

“A real sexy one, eh?” The Porter gushed, almost slavering.

“Hope! Not in front of the guests!” Bellhop Hospitality admonished, aghast.

“Oh don’t be such a wet blanket! Jule’s a friend, yeah?”

Juliette blinked, “Hold on, I’m confused. You’re both Hope, right?”

“Yep!” They both answered in unison.

“Then why are you acting so differently?”

Bellhop Hope smiled a decidedly impish smile complete with little fangs, “Oh, it’s just a little act…”

“…I put on for the guests.” Porter Hospitality said smugly around her tusks.

“Isn’t that a bit…” Juliette lowered her eyes, “deceitful?”

The Porter roared with laughter and the Bellhop grinned and shook her head, “Honesty is my sister! Besides, it makes the guests more comfortable.” 

Juliette and her guides arrived at the elevator which chimed and opened smoothly. “All aboard,” Bellhop Hope said, ushering everyone in. The elevator itself was very smart, polished brass with red accents that felt a bit like being inside a posh furnace. It was a bit small though, and Juliette found herself sandwiched in the middle, squeezed between the two Hospitalities. Cramped like this Juliette was aware of how unnaturally warm the two demons were and the cloying smell of brimstone. Pleasantly anonymous musak played, a smooth jazzy arrangement of Sympathy for The Devil. “Going down…” The Bellhop said, voice playfully menacing. When Juliette stiffened in concern, The Porter rumbled a laugh, “Just kidding!” The Elevator jerked with the familiar and welcome feeling of ascent.

On the sixth floor the elevator door pinged open and Juliette squirmed out into a hotel corridor with an institutional red carpet, grey walls hung with more abstract red oil artworks, and rows of black doors hung with golden Fraktur numerals. “This way,” Bellhop Hospitality said, gently taking Juliette’s elbow and gayly leading her down the hallway. Behind them trudged the Porter, her huge hooves muffled by the carpet. Hospitality halted the group in front of the door marked 666. “Your room.”

Juliette swallowed hard and her palms were sweaty as she reached for the fire code compatible flat doorknob. As Juliette grasped the handle she felt her inverted cross necklace grow momentarily warm and the resistance of the lock disappear. She opened the door to see… a very trendy but otherwise unremarkable hotel room. There was a king-sized bed with a plush white comforter and pillows, a modest desk, and a few pieces of standard hotel furniture. The floor was carpeted in ash grey and the feature wall behind the bed was covered in white wallpaper with a kitschy cherry red pentagram pattern. The other walls thankfully were painted white and hung with artistic photographs of ravens and crows and black cats in urban settings. Tall lancet windows let in an abundance of natural light and crown of thorn plants of various sizes where placed around the room adding a welcome pop of bright red flowers and green leaves. “It’s nice,” Juliette said, impressed. 

“Thank you,” Hospitality said from both of her mouths. Her Bellhop body strutted across the room and turned a tall backed burgundy armchair around to face Juliette. Juliette gasped, sprawled in the chair was a limbless body, yet another Hospitality. “Wh-what?” The body had no arms or legs and was really just a feminine torso and head dressed in a caricature of the Amadouer hotel uniform, but also somehow doll-like and inanimate. This Hospitality had pale skin that looked like it might be made of felt and black hair trimmed into a messy pixie cut of stuffed animal fur. She had horns on her forehead, but they were small and blunt, more cone than spike, as if neutered for safety. Her uniform looked soft and its buttons stitched on, the uniform filigree and tassels added like accents to a pillow. The limbless Hospitality sagged bonelessly, her eyes closed and insensate. “What the fuck?” 

Bellhop Hope smiled like a cat and her tail swished behind her, “Meet your very own Concierge-me, which is a standard perk of all our VIP rooms.” The Bellhop boosted the Concierge doll into a more upright position, lifted her drooping head and said, “Excieo!” The limbless Hospitality blinked her eyes sleepily and grinned at Juliette, “Jules! Welcome to your room! I’m so happy to help you in anyway I can!”

“Oh this is too creepy…” Juliette was backing up. Seeing her friend as a demon, series of demons, was already deeply troubling, but to encounter this broken doll servant was simply too much. Juliette took another step back and bumped into the The Porter, who gently but firmly stopped Juliette with her four hands. “It’s alright,” The hulking demoness said quietly. “She’s just another one of my bodies, another pair of eyes and ears to help guests. She doesn’t have a mind of her own and is more like a hand than a person. She’s just another part of me. It’s weird, but you don’t have to feel bad for her.”

“And if you find me too upsetting, or just want some privacy, you just need to say my ‘off word’ to make me go back to sleep.” The Concierge said from her spot on the chair.

“Dormi,” The Bellhop said and the doll-like Hospitality sighed, closed her eyes, and fell limp again, just another piece of furniture in the room, albeit a noteworthy one. Juliette took a deep breath and steadied her shaking hands. The Concierge looked fairly harmless now that she was resting again, would maybe even be cute if she wasn’t a quadruple amputee version of her friend. This entire hotel was madness! But well, she was here now and Hospitality was already however she was, so the damage was done. If damage was even the right word for it, since Hope seemed pretty satisfied with the situation. The least Juliette could do was try and go with the flow and hear her friend out. It wasn’t like she herself was in any peril. “Sorry,” Juliette said, “I guess I was just a bit startled.”

Bellhop Hope smiled, “I think I’m the one who should apologize, I sometimes forget just how strange this all is.” She grinned and shook her head, “I’m really glad you came, and I’m sorry I upset you. Anyway, I should go and let you settle in and decompress a bit. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask, you’re my special guest after all.”

Juliette nodded and watched as the Porter set her suitcase down on a little stand, gave her a little wave, and departed. As the Bellhop went to follow, Juliette raised her hand and gestured at the slumbering Concierge, “Actually… what do you say to wake her up?” The Bellhop grinned, leaned in close, and whispered “Excieo, to summon, Dormi, to sleep.” Then Hope gave Juliette a quick hug and followed her Porter body out of the room.

Juliette sighed, dropped her purse, and stepped out of her heels. She stood in place for a second, and went foot to toe a few times to stretch her feet. Juliette slipped off her smart jacket and hung it in the closet and tucked her shoes underneath. She unzipped her suitcase, pulled out some yoga pants, and a baggy T-shirt, which she remembered with a little pang in her chest had been Brian’s before it was hers. Juliette blew a sigh and grabbed her toiletries and made for the bathroom, which was very nice and modern, where she peed and washed up a little and put on her comfy clothes. She pulled her hair back into a pony tail and looked at herself in the mirror. “What time I am afraid, I will trust in Hospitality… I will not fear what furniture can do unto me.” 

Juliette marched back into her hotel room and stood before the resting Concierge. She stood tall and squared her shoulders, counted to three in her head, and said the magic word “Excieo!”

Hospitality blinked her eyes open and smiled “Jules!”

“Hi?”

“You look comfy.”

“Says the living pillow.”

Hope giggled, “I’ll have you know cushioning is only one of the many services I provide. Speaking of, what can I help you with?”

“Honestly? I just want to hang out with you, is that okay?”

The Concierge body did a happy limbless wiggle on the chair. “Of course! It’s why I picked out a Concierge room for you; this way you get your very own me.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Well as your hotel, I do aim to take care of the details. How about I bring you up some room service and a bottle of wine? My treat!”

“You can do that?”

“Already done! Now why don’t you carry me over to the bed so we can chat?”

Juliette looked at her limbless friend and rolled her eyes. “You always did have to make a scene.” Juliette stepped forward, wrapped Hope in her arms, and lifted her. The Concierge body was light, not quite pillow weightless, but lighter than a normal living body would be, even without limbs. This Hope was also soft and squishy, pliable and warm in a way that made Juliette think of memory foam. Hospitality nuzzled into her arms, turned the lift into a hug, and rested her soft face against Juliette’s cheek. “I just like the attention.”

Juliette walked them over to the large bed and feeling a devious little spark of mischief, tossed Hope onto it. Hospitality whooped and laughed as she landed on the bed, smiled up at Juliette. “Goof!” Juliette hopped up onto the bed and dragged her doll-like friend to the headboard and propped her up in a sitting position. Then Hope blinked her eyes and said “Room Service,” and there was a polite little knock on the door. Juliette opened it to find a tray on the floor with a metal cloche and a magnum bucket of ice with a wine bottle in it, arrived there as if by magic. She lifted the tray and brought it back to the bed and set it on the covers. “Go ahead,” Hope said, smiling. Juliette lifted the cloche and saw a grilled cheese sandwich made with crusty sourdough, gouda cheese, and very thin slices of green apple accompanied by a heaping pile of seasoned curly fries. Juliette grinned, it was her favorite comfort food, “You spoil me!”

“My name is literally Hospitality.”

Juliette gave her limbless friend a long suffering look, “Don’t be like that, this is really sweet. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Hope said, her fabric skin somehow actually blushing a little. “Now pop the bubbly!”

Juliette lifted the wine bottle and saw it was a cheap Prosecco, but one she liked and bought often. She shot another grin at her friend, amused at her efforts to recreate a girlsnight. She poppped the cork and poured herself a flute. “You want some?”

Hope shook her head, making her little body rock a bit. “No hands. And no stomach.”

Juliette took a long bracing drink of her wine, “This is still super weird, by the way.”

“I know.”

“How did… why did you do it? It seems like such a drastic decision…”

Hope giggled, “It was a drastic decision. But then, drastic times call for drastic measures, don’t they?” The living pillow sighed, “Do you know how much debt I’m in?” Juliette bit her lip and looked away, she had some idea. She’d met Hope at school, during their MFA Publishing Program. They’d become fast friends but were from very different backgrounds. Hospitality had been one of several sisters raised by deeply religious working class parents. She’d fallen in love with reading as a kid, the library an affordable escape from the rigid world of her family, and then paid her own way through college and the Master’s program. Hope loved books and all she ever wanted to do was make them. Juliette, on the other hand, was the pampered daughter of a lawyer who worked for a major publishing company. Her parents had paid for her education and she’d went into Publishing since she thought the lifestyle looked fun and the work agreeable. After graduating her mother hooked her up with a sweet unpaid internship, which grew into a job she discovered she was actually rather good at. Juliette had found she loved helping authors, those silly dreamers, realize and manifest their stories. It made her feel like a wish granting fairy. But Juliette knew that Hope’s professional path hadn’t been so smooth. “I can maybe guess.”

The limbless Concierge laughed with an edge, “I doubt it!” Hope smiled, “Jules, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, but I don’t think anyone who hasn’t lived with student debt really understands how predatory it is. I know I didn’t before.” Hope stretched her neck, “The thing about compound interest is that it grows and it grows and it grows; it’s relentless. You pay what you can, but all it does is chew into the interest a little, maybe slow the growth a bit, but the principle just sits there like a tumor.” Hospitality licks her soft lips with a felt tongue. “With the loans kicking in I couldn’t do the unpaid internship thing, if I could even get one without a family connection, no offense. I did manage to find freelance work and even write a little, but that hardly paid enough for rent and did nothing to tame my debt.”

“I’m sorry,” Juliette said, squeezing Hope’s tiny body in a big hug.

“It’s not your fault, and anyway, as unfair as it is, it’s still a problem I have to fix,” Hospitality said from within the embrace.

“And leasing your soul was the best solution?”

Hope shrugged blunt shoulders, “I know I’ve basically traded one Faustian bargain for another, but this one at least has term limits.” She smiled sympathetically, “But enough about me! How are you holding up?”

Juliette sighed and set plushy Hope back on the bed. “I’m not completely sure?” She touched her ponytail, it had all been such a blur since that grey morning when she’d woken up to find Brian had left her. “I don’t really know how to feel? I’m sad, obviously. Disappointed.” She and Brian had been engaged, planning their wedding, and then, suddenly, he was just gone. Done with her and the life they’d built together. Hadn’t they been in love? “I’m rather lonely,” she said, thinking of her too empty apartment so full of memories and shared belongings, but missing the vital spark that had once made it a home. She felt like a ghost haunting the bones of her life. She was numb. “I guess I’m mired in a funk.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hospitality said.

“Thanks,” Juliette managed a tired smile. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, and I’m so glad you accepted my infernal invitation.” Hope smirked, “Now cuddle up to me, eat your dinner and drink your wine, and I’ll fill you in on all my sister drama.”

Juliette poked her upholstered ribs, “Such a gossip!”

“Discretion is my sister, and you will not believe who she’s slept with now…”

***

Juliette woke up languidly, muzzy and cozy, cuddled up to something soft and warm. She stretched her legs and pulled the pillow closer to herself, spooned it against her belly and lap, fondled a plush breast? She felt the pillow sigh and wiggle in her arms, “Buy a girl breakfast first!” 

“Jesus!” Juliette shrieked, crushing her friend.

“No one here by that name,” The limbless Hospitality pillow in her arms wheezed. “Good morning!”

“You frightened me,” Juliette whined. Her heart was racing and she was very incredibly awake. 

“Sorry,” Hope said, “But you asked me to wake you up in the morning.”

“I did?” Juliette frowned. Last night was a bit blurry. She’d had a bit too much wine and gotten tipsy, and maybe also had a nightcap? Something fiery and smokey? Scotch? She remembered laughing with Hope and sharing stories and maybe something about museum hours? Juliette pouted, “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“You wanted to check out the art museums before they got too busy.”

“Ugh,” Juliette grunted, “That does sound like me.” 

“Yep! Have a shower and I’ll order you a car. There’s a great bakery by the Museum of Fine Art and I’ll have them drop you off there. Spend the day doing your fancy art lady thing, then I’ll treat you to a nice dinner in my restaurant. Then tomorrow I have you booked for a Spa Day.”

“You have a restaurant?”

“What?” Hope asked. 

“You can’t cook!”

“I can cook.”

“…”

“I can cook now.”

“Fine…” Juliette rubbed her face, “Blah, why did you let me drink so much last night?”

Hospitality grinned, “Because Temperance is my sister.”

Juliette groaned and buried her face in her friend.

***

Juliette stepped back into the lobby of the Amadouer and smiled at the front desk Hospitality who waved happily from her pedestal. Juliette had a lovely day: good coffee and pain au chocolate for breakfast, Fine Art, Modern Art, a tour of a sculpture garden, a wander around a nice little park, lunch at a cute outdoor bistro, and a chance to see an early 20th century dress exhibit at the history museum. She’d been so distracted that she hadn’t thought about… who? Nobody important. She skipped to the brass elevator doors which swished smoothly open…

To reveal an achingly beautiful couple, a man and woman, kissing each other passionately. She was elfin and raven haired and stitched into a sheer silk dress the colour of smoke and he was tall and trim and angularly handsome in a navy waist coat and trousers. They noticed her and came apart, only slightly abashed, breathing heavily. The woman’s hard nipples were clearly visible on her heaving breasts and the man’s hands held her possessively by the swell or her hips. The woman’s high cheeks were flush, but the naughty grin on her lips suggested it was not from embarrassment. Their bodies performed a story of desire, but it was their eyes that wounded Juliette: they were in love.

Juliette fled the elevator, her eyes burning, and chest aching with sudden heartache. Brian! That should have been her and Brian in the elevator, drunk with each other, carried away with passion, on their way back to their hotel room to make love. Instead it was just her, always just her, poor lonely Juliette! She stumbled down the corridor to her own slice of hell: room 666, and stepped inside…

“Zut alors! Quelle domage!”

“Mon diable! Zee guest! She eez back prématurément!”

“Mais c'est contraire à la politique de l'hôtel!”

“Oui! Notre maîtresse shall be most furieux!”

There were two maids in her room! They were both of the French mode, and a bit on the kinky side, wearing tight black uniform dresses with plunging necklines, short skirts with cheeky tule petticoats, sheer stockings with exposed garters, black chokers, and the tiniest afterthought of aprons. They were demonic too, with sharp little horns peaking from their dark tresses, dainty cloven hooves for feet, and slim spade-tipped tails slithering out of their skirts. The demonic maids both had Gallic-infused versions of Hospitality’s face wearing dramatic, slightly slutty makeup. Juliette opened her mouth, but didn’t exactly know what to say.

One of the maids waved a feather duster in distress, “Rapidement! Dites-lui que nous sommes désolés de l'avoir dérangée!”

“Calmez-vois!”

The maid rested her hands on her hips, “Non! Je ne veux plus avoir d'ennuis!”

The maid rolled her eyes and said to Juliette: “Oh, vee are tres, ‘ow do you say? Sorry? To ‘ave dérangeons vous confidentialité. Eez un sérieux faux pas, oui?”

“Yes?” Juliette frowned, “I mean, no! No, it’s fine.”

“You are tres genereux,” the maid said, and then to the other. “Eez fine.”

The other maid stamped her hoof and made a dismissive Francophone “puh” mouth sound before saying: “Elle est juste polie. Nous devrions la offsrir du sexe faveur…”

“Zat eez your solution to every-ting!” The first maid spit back, stamping a hoof.

The second maid shrugged Frenchly.

“Um?” Juliette said uncertainly. “Are you all finished cleaning? I have to get ready for dinner.”

“Mais oui! Vee are juste on zee way oot!” The maid grabbed the other by the tail and gave it a sharp yank, “Allons-y!”

The other maid glared at her compatriot darkly, but then seemed to remember she was in front of a guest, she smiled at Juliette and blew her a kiss, “Au revoir!”

The maids flounced away, the door shut behind them, and Juliette cast a bemused look at the Hospitality Concierge pillow propped up on the freshly made bed. “You have a weird sense of humor.”

The limbless Hope doll winked.

***

Juliette stepped out of the elevator and found herself standing outside an elaborately carved gothic archway with the word temp/table spelled out in red neon. “Hi! Welcome!” Squeaked a miniature Hospitality perched on a lectern. This Hope was only two feet tall, with a curvy little hourglass body and a too-large head sporting backswept goat horns. She looked like a living chibi doll or demonic cherub, but one with the body of a sexually mature woman instead of a baby. An imp? The little Hope was wearing a tight black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and short skirt, and she had clawed feet like a bird or dragon, a slender tail, and stubby batwings. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes?”

“Under what name?” The hostess asked impishly.

“Juliette Martine?” 

“Oh! Ms. Martine!” The imp gasped, “You’re a very special VIP guest!” The hostess consulted a seating chart, clutched a pair of menus to her full chest, and began to furiously beat her too-small wings, somehow becoming airborne. The hostess imp floated into the restaurant, her little wings fluttering, her tail lifting her skirt to give Juliette a clear view of bright red panties. “Please follow me!”

The restaurant interrior was something like an old world wine cellar crossed with a mausoleum. The walls were made of pale stone blocks, chaotically  stacked and fit under a looming stone ceiling. There were wide pillars throughout the space and rough stone archways built to hold back the weight of the roof. Candles were everywhere: hung from simple wrought iron chandeliers, clutched in wall sconces, packed into niches and cubbies and shelves, placed on table tops, filling the space with heat and the dancing glow of flame. The space was dim, ghostly in the flickering candle light, and broken up by pillars and walls to create several intimate dining spaces, all arranged around an open central kitchen. 

“Yes Chef!” A chorus of high voices barked, and Juliette saw several more little Hopish imps fluttering around the kitchen in white chef uniforms, hovering over counters, working a stovetop, plating a salad, chopping vegetables, arranging a desert, swooping toward the refrigerators. One of the imps chopping meat with a cleaver missed, hacked off her own hand, shrugged nonchalantly at her bloodless stump, and reattached the severed body part to her wrist. She flexed her fingers and calmly resumed chopping. “Pick it up ladies!” An imp wearing a cartoonishly tall chef’s toque bellowed. “Where’s my duck? I need it on the fly!”

“Yes Chef!”

Juliette was ushered to a small table in a cozy alcove filled with an inferno of candles. The hostess placed the menus on the table and laboriously dragged a chair out for Juliette to be seated.

“Thanks,” Juliette said as she sat.

The little hostess tried to push Juliette back under the table, pumping her wings, heaving at the seat with her entire body, uselessly expending her entire tiny might. “Hnnggh…”

Juliette slid her chair forward and the hostess sighed in relief. She swooped back into view, handed Juliette an open menu, straightened her dress, and smiled brightly, “Your server will be with you shortly.”

Juliette picked up the drink menu and skimmed the cocktail list. She rolled her eyes: Deadly Sin, Bitter Temptation, Naked & Shameless, Honey Trap, Love & Murder, Fire & Brimstone, Red Devil, Necromancer. “How priceless is your unfailing love, Chef Hope! People take repast in the shadow of your tiny wings. They feast on the abundance of your restaurant; you give them drink from your menu of delights.”

“Does that mean you’ve already picked a drink?” Juliette blushed and found an imp waitress hovering expectantly. She was another tiny Hospitality dressed in a smart white shirt, black tie, small black apron, and slim black capris that clung to her plump bottom. 

“Oh, um, I’ll have a Deadly Sin, please?”

“Excellent choice,” the little waitress winked, “We’re experts at that here.” She tapped her chin with a clawed finger, “The specials tonight are a fried veal sweetbread served with a cajun-style remoulade and deviled eggs, or a coriander and miso crusted halibut steak served with a mirin reduction, charred bok choy, and scallion pancakes…”

Juliette smirked, “I get the deviled egg gag, but why the fish special?”

“Oh, well,” The imp smiled innocently and shrugged, “Just for the hal-ib-ut.”

Juliette groaned, “You’re a menace.”

“Guilty as sin,” The waitress agreed. “Why don’t I let you study the menu and fetch your drink? I’ll be back in a flap to answer any questions.”

“Thanks,” Juliette said, turning her attention to the main menu. Juliette licked her lips and frowned, the menu was… quite nice actually. Despite the punny specials, the actual menu was well constructed, although it did skew toward the sinfully decadent. There were a few playful stabs at hellish fare: a devil’s food cake mille feuille, lobster fra diavolo, and an uova al pugatorio appetizer, but the majority of the menu stuck to fine dining standards of duck, steak, fish, and a token chicken dish. Juliette scratched her nose, there were several good options, and she was having trouble choosing…

She glanced around her dining nook and saw the sexy blonde marketing demoness was eating with a very handsome older man in a white suit. They were both focused on their food instead of each other, despite the demoness’ slinky strapless dress and smoking bod, each reverently lifting morsels to mouths which, judging from the rapturous pleasure on their faces, transported them to a delicious state of bliss. Juliette looked away, certain that she’d learned the demoness’ orgasm face, and spotted the beautiful couple from the elevator nearby too. She was afraid of seeing dewy lovesick eyes or a naughty game of footsie, but the lovers were thankfully absorbed in their meal. Juliette watched as the slender woman murmured something and lifted a forkful for her man, who sampled a bite, his face transforming into a look of carnal ecstasy.

“Your Deadly Sin,” the waitress imp said, wings flapping. The little Hope held aloft a platter with a tumbler of amber booze and a little plate. “And a little appetizer from the kitchen.” 

“Wow,” Juliette said, excited to try some of this transcendent food that was giving her dining contemporaries the gastronomic vapors. She wiggled her fingers and gazed at the dish, three big scallops, plump and seared to a carmalized crust, perched on a couch of charred corn polenta. Juliette lifted a fork and split a tender scallop, scooped it with a smudge of polenta, and took a bite… and it was good. Really good! Far and away the best thing Hospitality Jones had ever cooked for her, which was admittedly not saying much, but… it wasn’t amazing either. Certainly not orgasmic. Juliette felt disappointed.

“Is everything alright?” The waiter asked.

“It’s very good, thanks.”

“But…?” Hope asked.

“Nothing, it’s great.”

“Jules…?”

Juliette sighed, “Alright, fine. It is very good, but it isn’t incredible. Everyone around me seems to be tasting the most delicious thing in the world, and well, I’m a little disappointed.” Juliette felt horrible, “Sorry…”

The little Hope grinned, “Don’t be! Everyone else ordered from the Chef’s special omakase menu. Their food is so much better.”

“Oh…” Juliette felt a pang of jealousy. She’d thought she was going to get the VIP treatment, but it made sense that her free dinner wouldn’t be the premium version. 

“It’s magic,” Hope said, little wings flapping.

“Magic?”

“The omakase menu is demonic magic.” The waitress tipped her head, “I would have offered, but given how you reacted to all this,” she gestured at her curvy impish figure, pumping wings, spaded tail, “I thought it would be better not to mention it and make you feel awkward.”

“Is the omakase menu truly that much better?”

A truly nefarious grin formed on Hope’s lips: “Jules, it’ll be the best meal you’ll have in your entire mortal life.”

Juliette frowned, demon magic meals? That sounded sinful, right? Dangerous? But everyone else in the restaurant was enjoying it, and she could trust Hospitality, couldn’t she? “Is it safe?”

“Totally!”

“Id like to try it?”

The waitress clapped her hands, “Awesome! I’ll grab the manager so you two can have a conversation about terms.”

The waitress swooped down, nabbed the mundane scallops, and zipped away, replaced momentarily by another Hope-ish imp with curly ram horns, a grand pompadour haircut, a bowtie, and a little tuxedo jacket with long flapping tails. “I hear you might be interested in the Chef’s special omakase menu,” Manager Hope says, landing on the tabletop.

“Yes…”

“Excellent,” she reached into her jacket and pulled out an impossibly large sheet of paper. A contract? “We just need to settle on your payment,” She reached behind her ear and pulled out a sharp little pin.

Juliette recoiled, “What do you mean?”

“The omakase meal will cost you part of your soul.”

“My soul!”

“Just for a few hours.”

“What the hell!”

“Exactly.”

Juliette frowned, wasn’t this supposed to be a fee meal? A nice gift for her? “Can’t you…comp me the meal?”

The manager shook her head no, “I’m afraid not. Demonic magic works by transaction: by sending a little part of your soul to Hell you create a metaphysical conduit for infernal energy to enter the Corporeal Plane. No soul, no magic.” The little demon shrugged little shoulders, “Besides, Charity is my sister.”

“Hope…”

“I’ll cut you a deal.” The manager strutted across the table and placed her small hand on Juliette’s shoulder. “You lend me just five percent of your soul for only eight hours, and in return I’ll make you the best meal of your life. Afterward you’ll stumble back to your room, crawl into your plush bed all fed and tipsy and glad, have a wonderful deep sleep, and wake up refreshed and rested with your precious soul completely intact.” She gave Juliette a little pat, “You’ll hardly even notice anything missing.”

Juliette clenched and strangled her hands, chewed a lip, felt indecision squirm in her guts. Could she sell her soul? Or not even sell, just lend, and only a small part of it, for such a short time, that she’d hardly even notice it? That wouldn’t be so dreadful, would it? Everyone else in the restaurant had done it… But it was her immortal undying soul! Could she really entrust part of it to devils? Even for a moment? Was she overthinking this? Wasn’t this supposed to be an adventure? A chance to break out of her rut! Juliette lifted her drink and slammed down her entire Deadly Sin. “Fuck it, alright.”

“Great!” The Manager squeaked. “Your finger tip please?”

Juliette proffered her right index finger and winced as the imp stabbed it with her lancet. A dark red bead of blood welled out from the tiny wound, a ruby droplet of mortal vitality. The manger held up the contract and Juliette pressed her bloody fingertip to a square box in the bottom corner, leaving a crimson imprint as a signature. Juliette shivered and felt the hairs on her arms stand up.

“There,” The manager imp said, tucking the contract back into her suit jacket, and launching herself off the table with a skip and fury of wings. “All done. Your new meal will start arriving shortly. Bon Appétit!” 

Juliette sat back in her chair and rubbed her arms.

Did she feel different? Had she made a mistake? She heard a crash and a shriek! She looked up to see an imp come screaming out of the kitchen engulfed in flames! She wailed and wheeled through the air, trailing fire, looping around chandeliers and pillars, barrel rolling, bouncing off walls, her cook’s uniform burning away to ash. “Hope! Calm down!” The hostess imp snapped at her, “You’re fireproof!”

“Oh!” The burning imp stopped, hovered in place, wings beating, fire dying, unharmed curvaceous body totally naked. She laughed nervously, her face and tits and round little ass blushing rosy pink. “Sorry folks!” She yelled awkwardly before aerially retreating back to the kitchen. 

“Your first dish,” Announced the Chef Imp herself, embroidered white jacket and tall cylindrical hat like a culinary pope, clutching a dish with a small piece of artfully arranged meat like a sacramental. She placed it carefully on the table in front of Juliette and added: “A venison saddle served with a red wine jus, foraged pine, chanterelle, morel mushrooms, and ramps. Enjoy!”

“Hi, I’m the Sommelier here,” said another Hope imp whilst swooping near. This one brandished a bottle of red wine and a tall stemmed glass. She was dressed like the waitress, except she wore a black waistcoat to mark her higher service rank. The Sommelier placed the wine glass on the table and, hovering carefully, poured a modest glug of red wine into the glass. She cradled the bottle like a child and grunted, “Your first wine pairing is a Spanish Tempranillo called Bailor Con Demonios.”

“Thank you,” Juliette said, excited and a little bit scared.

“Go ahead,” Hope purred through an imp. “Take a bite,” she said with the other.

Juliette licked her lips, lifted her sharp little knife and fork, and cut the tender venison. She stabbed the morsel with her fork and pushed it through the sauce. Juliette lifted it to her lips. The smell of cooked meat and wine hung there, enticing. Her mouth watered. She opened her lips and slowly, expectantly, took a bite…

An explosion of flavor! Gamey funky salty umami sour from the venison! Tart fruity richness from the jus! The interplay and contrast! The joy! She gasped! It was incredible!

Juliette took another bite of meat, just as revelatory as the first, and a sip of wine: a dry fruity peppery blast! She ate the foraged mushrooms, each type made unique by her enhanced senses: pungent woodsy spice, fruity nutty pepper, earthy richness! Crisp oniony garlicky bite of the ramps! The empty dish is removed and replaced, and with shaking hands she took a new bite: now velvety bloody richness of tenderloin steak medallions smothered in Bordelaise with bone marrow potatoes, the huge fruity abyss of a Cab Sauv, and then, right after, savory decadence and the botanical fire of spiced duck a l’orange with crunchy salty fried Parisian gnocchi, crisp sweet Riesling, then, without room to pause, the creamy buttery richness and floral flourish of a small lobster tail doused in saffron cream sauce paired with the sour citrus sweetness of Viognier. Juliette was panting and sweating, each flavor piercing her with a fidelity and intensity she’d never experienced before. Another dish: Branzino fish with Skordalia, savory garlicky cream and briny flakey fishiness played against the peachy orchard cornucopia of Pinot Gris. Juliette moaned, out loud, and gasped, covered her mouth, blushed. Then: Moroccan spiced lamb resting on a tiny tagine of chickpeas, funky salty meat, the complex burn of spices, the richness of lentils, the austere dryness of the accompanying Cab Franc. Juliette was being carried away, sight and sound fogged out, washed away by taste and scent, the overwhelming pleasure of her meal, the awesome depth of flavor. She squirmed in her chair, stomach getting full, nipples aching. She bit her lip to stop from whimpering. Her panties were wet. And then desert: a glass of tawny port, raisiny and indolent, a slab of Basque Cheesecake drenched in a balsamic cherry reduction, expansive buttery sweetness attacked by astringent fruit, Juliette made fists and clenched her thighs, then the devil’s food cake mille feuille, elegant deconstructed earthy rich velvety bitter chocolate, crisp pastry, blazing sweet icing, her entire world! Stars twinkled in her vision and she felt giddy high and drunk. And then finally a digestif: a small glass of Green Chartreuse, a supernova of flavor, the fiery bite of liquor, an entire planetary biome of botanicals, an alchemical symphony of molecules that fought across her palette, mutated and fucked, and Juliette whimper and mewled and made an obscene ahhhhh as she experienced something quite literally orgasmic, her brain overloaded by this work of holy monks made obscenely transcendent by devilish sorcery! Teeth chattering, face flush, heart racing, she gasped: “I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you…”

***

Juliette opened her eyes in a soft warm bed. She stretched under the covers, lithe and lazy like a cat. She’d slept perfectly, deep and sound, and felt refreshed and recharged and ready to take on the day. “I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the Amadouer sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of Hospitalitys, that have set all herselves to accommodate me round about.”

“Good morning to you too,” Said her pillow.

Juliette blinked, reached up, and realized her head was cradled in the plush lap of Hope’s limbless concierge body. She quickly pulled her face out of her friend’s upholstery crotch, and tried to ignore what had felt rather like humid labia on her cheek. “Gah,” Juliette said.

Hope grinned, “How was dinner?”

“Amazing…” Juliette said, mind retracing the many courses of her meal, the nearly psychedelic experience of taste at such a high resolution, the ecstatic pleasure of eating, but she found the memories were already faded a little, tarnished, she knew she’d had the greatest meal of her life, but she couldn’t recapture the experience from recall. She felt a pang, bereft that such a beautiful experience was so fleeting. Would she ever experience something like that again? How could regular food compare? Now that she knew eating could be transcendental would she even appreciate mundane meals?  “Superlative.”

“Great! I’m so glad you tried the omakase menu,” Hope said. She smiled mischievously: “Worth a little deal wasn’t it?”

“Oh.” Her soul! She’d traded away part of her soul! She’d almost forgotten… Juliette closed her eyes, tried to take stock of herself. Had her missing piece been returned? Or was it being held hostage? Did she feel intact? Did she feel soiled? Dirty? Wounded in the spirit somehow? Diminished? She didn’t feel different, but how could she know? Juliette worried at her lip, “I guess?”

“Oh don’t be a baby,” Hope smirked. “Your soul is back, good as news. We demons are bound by our contracts; anything in writing is ironclad and beyond reproach.”

“Okay…”

“Jules, you know you can trust me, right?”

Juliette sighed and looked at her friend’s limbless pillow body with it’s cute little demon horns and buttons. She grabbed her friend and dragged her into a hug, “Yeah, I do.”

“Good, now get your lazy ass out of bed or you’ll be late for your spa appointment!”

***

Juliette stepped cautiously through the door into Échange, the luxury spa of the Amadouer Hotel. The reception was icy white: clean white floor tiles, white lighting globes, minimalist white furniture, palest blue glass panels subtly etched with designs of stylized octopus tentacles, reaching, grasping, tall white pots holding all Albo monstera plants, signature perforated leaves entirely blazing white like porcelain. In the corner was a large fountain made of white ceramic that filled the room with the calm sound of water trickling down over bone white stones.

“Ms. Martine?” Asked Hospitality brightly. 

“Yes…” Juliette said, trying to mask her surprise.

“Great!” The Échange receptionist said from inside her minimalist white pot. This Hope body was just a head: a girlish face with pale white hair cut in an angular chin length bob with straight bangs, bright red lipstick, tall white corkscrewing blackbuck horns, and a slender neck sprouting from a small white cylindrical vase resting on a white desk. “Please head to room three and remove as much of your clothing as you’re comfortable with. The Aesthetician will be along shortly.”

“Thank you.”

The receptionist graciously inclined her head, the only real gesture she could manage, “You’re welcome.”

Juliette walked down a little hallway and slipped through the door marked III. Inside was a clean white room, comfortably dim, tall snake plants, a very professional looking massage table, and a full length mirror. Juliette glanced in the mirror and blushed, shook her head, and laughed. Hope had seen her naked before, and anyway Juliette was pretty sure Hope could observe everything within the Amadouer. “You have searched me, Hope, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my nudity from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my curves.” Juliette pulled off her loose T-shirt, stripped out of her yoga pants, and stood in front of the mirror wearing only her plain cotton underwear. She gave herself a critical inspection: modest but well formed breasts with wide dark nipples, thin limbs and torso but with a bit of pudge on her belly and thighs, recently grown from a  pilates and jogging hiatus. A narrow face, slightly upturned nose, a light splash of freckles, bushy straight hair, mousey trying and failing at brunette, bright hazel eyes. She pulled her hair back into a lazy bun and fixed it in place with an elastic worn around her wrist.

“Ready?” 

Juliette gasped and jumped, covered her tits, whirled to see the Aesthetician had arrived.

“Sssorry,” Hospitality hissed from yet another body. This Hope had pale albino skin, long black center parted hair, and four horns: two heavy curled ram horns around her ears, and two more backswept goat horns sprouting from her temples. She had six arms, lean and wiry, with long-fingered hands with sharply manicured black fingernails. She was wearing a skintight white dress made of painted latex that coated six perfect teardrop breasts on a tall slender torso and clung to wide hips that blended straight into a monstrous twelve foot serpentine tail covered in matte black scales instead of legs.

“Damnation, Hope!?” Juliette dropped hands from breasts to hips and pouted,  “You did that on purpose.”

“PerhapSss,” Hope allowed, forked tongue flickering out of a fanged black lipped smile.  

Aesthetician Hope gestured at the massage table with one pair of arms, “Climb aboard and tell me which option you prefer.” She steepled her other hands and slithered her tail into a better resting position. 

“Options?”

“YeSss, we can do the mundane version of thiSss: a Sssix handed maSsssage followed by a mani-pedi and a Ssskin treatment. Very relaxing.”

“Or?”

Hope’s serpent tongue danced, “Or we can do the demonic version: I give you a true makeover that will literally have you looking and feeling better than ever before.”

Juliette frowned, “And just what will that cost me?”

“Your Sssoul,” hissed Hope. “Twenty percent of it for a month.”

“Twenty percent!”

Hope raised six placating hands, “Fine, for you: fifteen. But that’Sss the minimum needed to work the Ssspell.” She shrugged multiple shoulders, “You’re more complex than a taSssty meal.”

“For a whole month?”

“That iSss the duration of the makeover Ssspell.” She flashed her fangs, “Trust me, you’ll wish it waSss longer.”

“Really?”

“My makeoverSss are even more exquisite than my cooking, and beSssideSss…”

“Yeah, yeah, Modesty is your SssiSsster.”

Hope laughed, “PreciSssely. Ssso what will it be?”

Juliette frowned, undecided and uncertain. The demonic dinner she’d enjoyed the night before had been sublime, every bit as transcendent as Hope had advertised. Juliette’s only complaint was that it had been so fleeting, a glorious moment and nothing more. How sinfully good would a demonic makeover feel? How much of a glam up could infernal magic provide? Juliette was curious… But it was her soul, rather a lot of it, and for an entire month! Was it prudent to use her undying immortal essence as currency? For something as flippant as a fancy massage? For her own vanity? But Hope had honored her last agreement, hadn’t she? A little soul, a little time, a fantastic meal, and Juliette was made whole, no damage done. She hadn’t even been able to tell part of her soul was missing. Juliette had already transgressed once, why not sin a little more? “Will I be getting horns and a tail?”

“No, that’Sss extra.” 

“Alright,” Juliette said, “I’m in.”

“FantaSsstic,” Hope hissed, slithering closer. She coiled around Juliette, pressed her torso against her body, latex dress warm like naked skin, six breasts touching Juliette’s bare back, two hands holding Juliette by the hips. Hope produced a contract as if by magic and held it in front of Juliette with another pair of hands. She grabbed Juliette tightly by the wrist and pricked her index finger with a manicured claw. Juliette hissed at the sharp little pain and watched blood blossom on her fingertip. She bit her lip and touched her bloody finger to the contract, signing the infernal document. Juliette shivered involuntarily as she felt something like a cold breeze blow through her. Hope gave her a six armed hug, “I’m going to make you Ssso Sssexy.”

“Hop up on the table,” Hospitality said, steering Juliette in the right direction. Juliette climbed onto the massage table and laid down on her stomach, face in that weird little hole. She heard slithering and six hands clasp and rasp against each other, then felt warm palms on her back. The massage started gently, six teasing caresses that flowed across her neck, shoulders, back, buttocks, and thighs, soft and light like wings, leaving trails of happy touch. Juliette sighed, relaxed a little, a nervous tension flowing out of her body. The hands on her back began to press harder, assertive pressure carefully seeking knots in the muscular weave, skillful aggression attacking these tender imperfections, kneading deep into the tissue. Juliette groaned and sighed in appreciation, felt her body soften. The massage continued, gentle and hard, sometimes light enough to tickle, sometimes an intimate lover’s caress, sometimes a heavy crushing grapple, serious medical therapy strength, and sometimes all three at once. Naughty hands groped her ass, teased her thighs, prodded that one spot on the back of her knee, touched a little sideboob; a frisson of sexy mischief, a promise maybe of happy endings to come. Juliette is lulled, almost sleepy, her body and mind soothed. Eventually, later, the six hands grew warmer, almost hot, the air taking on a slight sulfurous tang. Juliette felt the hands push into her, drag and pull, and Juliette gasped, it felt as if she’d become molten, pliable, rearranged, sculptable like living clay. Hope’s demonic hands squeezed her sides, groped and tugged her ass, raked down her spine and legs and arms, leaving fiery tingles like comets. Juliette felt a spike of sexual pleasure and moaned. Fingers stroked her scalp and ran lovingly through her freed hair, and Juliette bit her lip to stay quiet. She was full of butterfly tingles and an aching heat surged in her crotch. The hands kept moving and it seemed like there were somehow more than six, a dozen, hundreds, as if Juliette was covered back and front by all encompassing touch. She writhed on the massage table and whined, clenched her thighs around her burning pussy. A hand, a single hand, distinct among the forest of touch, pressed into her soaked panties, and rubbed along the ravenous slick cleft of her cunt. Juliette cried out, orgasmed, feet and hands clenching, but still she was being reformed. It felt as if she was floating, no longer anchored to the table at all, massaging hands on her back still, but belly too, rubbing, smoothing, tweaking. She was liquid soft, flowing, shaped. Her face was stroked, and her breasts, oh fuck, her breasts were grabbed, crushed, kneaded, tugged, and Juliette shrieked, overcome again with orgasm. She was feverish, unmoored, incandescent like a blade in the forge. Her pussy blazed and she was gasping, big helpless gulps of air, her body almost seizing in pleasure. She felt distended, swollen, but supple, sleek, softer and cleaner, and hungry, filled up with a deep gnawing cavernous need at her core. A need that built and built and built, a runaway cacophony, uncontainable, and suddenly that impossible encompassing touch concentrated itself, localized, focused on her cunt, executed one perfect caress of her entire pussy: clitoris, labia, the total internal surface of her vagina down to her cervix, and Juliette was yelling and convulsing, briefly obliterated by an apocalypse of ecstasy….

…

Juliette was still on the table, sprawled, boneless like a filet, her face still wedged in that weird little padded hole. She felt a lingering warmth in her flesh, like she’d been baked and has been left to cool, to set. Her pussy ached, and her wet underwear clung uncomfortably. How long had she been here? Had she fallen asleep? How much of that kaleidoscopic intensity was a dream? 

Juliette pushed herself up to her knees, long hair spilling across her face, an unfamiliar weight tugging on her chest. She pulled hair out her eyes and saw she was alone in the little white room. She slipped off the bed, wiggled out of her sodden panties, stood and saw herself in the mirror…

Juliette gasped!

“Holy fuck…” Staring back at herself in wonder was a total knockout hottie. Juliette was beautiful! Sexy! A twelve-out-of-ten! Her mousey hair was now a striking deep chestnut brunette that hung in sculpted waves, impossibly weightless, as if painted onto her head with brushstrokes. Her hazel eyes were bright and enormous, her face somehow subtly sexier, more angular, her cheeks a bit higher, her jaw and chin a little sharper, her lips enormously plush and soft looking. She licked them with a pink little tongue, trying to convince herself they were real. Her arms had become slim, her shoulders elegant, her collarbones artful accents, her breasts… her breasts! They were huge! Well not huge, but large, noteworthy, flawless teardrops that hung from her chest with a heavy ripe weightlessness. She touched them with slender hands, felt their tender heft, gasped at enhanced sensitivity, watched her idealized nipples visibly stiffen. “Fuck…” Below her amazing rack her body was slender and toned, a supple belly with the gentle hills of girly abdominal muscles, torso flaring into the elegant pointed wings of wider hips. Her legs were long and graceful, soft but toned, sleek thighs that hinted at strength, slim claves, tiny ankles, pretty feet. Juliette pivoted, studied her backside, grinned at the sophisticated architecture of her shoulder blades and lower back, the ripe curve of her ass: high and wide, strong but padded with a fetching bubble of plush fat, exquisite. “Nice,” Juliette said to herself, turning back round. Her crotch was totally hairless, her vulva pink and trim, but prominent, lips hanging into the heart-shaped space of her new thigh gap, her clitoris an obvious enlarged bud that tingled with desire. Juliette resisted the desperate urge to touch herself. She took a deep breath, fluffed her glamorous hair, and moued at her reflection, “Hello, you sexy devil.”

***

Juliette smirked down at her gifted dry martini and lapped up the attention in the bar. People were staring at her, appreciating the goods, checking her out, weighing their chances, ogling her fine assets, and she was loving it! Being hot was wicked fun!

After her demonic massage, freshly hot Juliette had sashayed back up to her hotel room where she was presented with a pile of giftcards to upscale boutiques by her Hope Concierge pillow. “Treat yourself,” Hospitality had commanded, “Buy some clothes that fit your new body and take your cuter butt out for some retail therapy!”

Juliette had felt obliged to demure, but fuck it, she felt vivacious and pretty and why the fuck not? This was a vacation, wasn’t it? A treat? And anyways she didn’t have anything that fit her taller, bustier, curvier body. So she had gone on a shopping safari, playing dress up with her enhanced body, experimenting with what she could pull off, letting herself be entertained like a living doll by eager sales girls. It had been fun to be spoiled and fussed over, and she’d managed to assemble a fun little wardrobe for her month of enhanced looks. She wasn’t sure why exactly, but she was feeling sinful and lusty, and the clothes she’d chosen were all sexy if not outright slutty: a black vinyl corset and low rise leather pants, a tiny black strapless dress with patent leather thigh high boots, premium white sports bra and ass-hugging athleisure tights with plenty of cameltoe, a modest high-necked grey dress with a structured skirt paired with black latex tights and severe ballet pumps, a loose nearly transparent sheer white dress that billowed and clung to her nubile body revealing it in glimpses, a taut thigh, a ripe breast, a dark nipple briefly exposed, gauzy vulva, and the dress she was wearing: a slinky scarlet red halter dress with a plunging neckline and a hip hugging short skirt, worn with black stilettos and without bra or panties. With her still perfect hair, red lipstick and nails, her too sexy dress, and the inverted cross necklace key to her room, Juliette felt devilish, wicked, delicious. She chewed on her plush lip and felt a warm blush of lust; for the first time in months she was single and out in the world and horny. Maybe she could hook up tonight? She already had a hotel room…

Juliette touched her luxurious hair and looked around the bar. She caught a guy watching her, and another, and another. One was a pretty tweedy boy with slightly effeminate fuckboi vibes, another looked like a deliciously greasy gigolo, and the third was a big muscular man with dim eyes but an impressively broad chest and massive arms. Three possibilities, all decent flavors for an easy hookup. Oh! And a woman was eyeing her up too! An angular redhead, pretty in a soft butch way, pixie hair and a slim suit provocatively open at the throat. Juliette stirred her drink, she hadn’t slept with a girl since college. Or what about that couple? They were handsome and adorably wholesome, dark haired man and short blonde girl next door, probably in love. Should she introduce herself? Be a seductress? She’d never had a threesome before. Could she do something so sinful? Juliette blushed and felt a naughty tingle in her belly; she had sold part of her soul to a devil. Why not be bad?

“Hello beautiful stranger,” said a man to Juliette. He was older but handsome, a silver fox, with close cropped grey hair, bright blue eyes, and a square jaw. He had to be at least fifty, but he was in great shape with a lean runners build packaged in a white oxford shirt with rolled up sleeves, tight jeans, and nice leather shoes. Juliette noticed he was wearing an expensive watch, a Rolex maybe, and smelled pleasantly of tasteful cologne. Juliette smiled, feeling flush, “Hello yourself.”

“Such an attractive woman shouldn’t be alone at a bar,” the man said, shaking his head sadly as if at the sorry state of the world.

Juliette nodded seriously, playing along, “It’s downright unnatural.” Her heart beat faster and she made a rash decision, “You’ll just have to keep me company.”

The man smiled, easy, confident. He transferred his scotch tumbler to his left hand and stretched out his right. “Dante,” he said.

“Juliette,” she said shaking his offered hand. It was strong and warm, and Juliette felt herself resonding to his touch. Dante could be just the treat she needed to get over… who? Nobody. She brushed hair over her shoulder, touched her long elegant neck. “What brings you to town, Dante?”

“What else?” He asked. “Business.”

“And what is business?”

The man shrugged, “I work in hospitality.”

Juliette grinned, “Funny, Hospitality is also why I’m here.”

“Work?”

“Pleasure,” Juliette said, smiling a little challenge.

“Mysterious.”

Juliette was impish, “A friend invited me to stay at her hotel as a treat.” She shrugged, “I’m trying to get over a bad breakup.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Juliette purred, recrossing her legs, a hot ache building between her thighs, “It’s why I’m on the rebound.” She wet her lips: “Full disclosure: I’m just looking for some casual fun tonight.”

Dante grinned, “Full disclosure: so am I.”

Juliette shivered a little on her bar stool, this was going so fast! She glanced at Dante, did she really fancy fucking him? Was she really going to have a one night stand? This was all so unlike her! The urgent throb in her crotch urged her not to ruminate. Juliette bit her lip and smiled coquettishly, “So…”

Dante rested his left hand on her thigh and fuck! Was that a wedding ring!? He was married!? And looking to cheat! This would be an affair! Was Juliette really willing to become an adulteress? For some rando? What the fuck was wrong with her? Why was she behaving like such an out of control slut!? “Sorry,” she said, “But I’m having second thoughts…”

“What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong is I’m throwing myself at married men! “I-I don’t feel well… I should go. Alone.”

“Oh,” Dante said. 

“Goodnight,” Juliette said, fleeing back to the Amadouer.

***

“What’s wrong Jules?” Hospitality asked through her red-skinned Bellhop body.

“Leave me alone!” Juliette growled, and then: “What the fuck did you do to me!?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m acting like some kind of nymphomaniac! I’m hornier than a bitch in heat and spent the entire evening looking for a stranger to fuck!”

“Sounds fun?”

“He was married!”

“Oh. Geez…”

Hope wringed her hands and twisted her spade-tipped tail. “Look, okay, I should have warned you that these demonic makeovers can leave folks feeling… frisky, but well, I thought maybe it would be good for you? You know, a little romantic fun, a little sexy adventure, something to get you back up on the horse, but clearly it was too much.” Hope sighed and lashed her tail, “I’m sorry Jules.”

Juliette hugged her perfect body, “What do I do?”

“You just need to learn to manage your new urges a little. It’s like you’ve gone from a reliable sedan to a Ferrari; it’s still a car, but it’s extra fancy and goes zero to sixty real quick. You’ll get the hang of it.” Hope taps a hoof on the marble floor, “How about we go hang out on the roof? Somewhere nice and quiet where you can relax? I’ll make us a hot tub.”

Juliette nods, “Okay…”

“Great,” Hope nabbed Juliette by the hand and tugged her into the elevator, which rushed up and up, somehow past the top floor, to emerge straight onto the flat roof of the Amadouer Hotel. The rooftop terrace was narrow and shod with a wooden deck over tar shingles, and bordered by a wickedly barbed wrought iron fence. There were long strands of incandescent Edison lights hung from poles, zig-zagging over the roof, a hipster decorative flourish. Along the front facade stood stone gargoyle statues, nubile monstrous women with draconic wings, that seen up close, were carved in the likeness of Hospitality. Juliette stepped closer to the edge and looked out over the city: it wasn’t much of a view, just a busy street and roofs and the walls of taller buildings. It was enough to make Juliette feel a bit small, a little insignificant.

Juliette turned to find Bellhop Hospitality had shed her uniform and slipped into a newly manifested sunken hot tub. “Ahhhhh…” she sighed, happily naked.

Juliette walked over and stared into the bubbling, steaming tub, which hadn’t been present when they’d left the elevator. The tub churned like a boiling cauldron and was lit from within by amber lights which cast fiery highlights on Hope’s bare red skin. Juliette slipped out of her heels and toed Hope’s discarded uniform, “Aren’t you on duty?”

“Yep!” Bellhop Hope grinned, leaned back, a hoof tip breaking the roiling water surface. “I’m breaking the rules here, so don’t tell my manager.”

Juliette rolled her eyes and grinned, “You’re a fiend.”

“Guilty!” Hope splashed a little water at Juliette, “Come on, hop in! Water’s infernal!”

“Um? I don’t have a bathing suit?”

“So?”

“And I’m not wearing any underwear…”

“Soooo?” Hope wiggled her little tomboy tits.

Juliette smirked ruefully and shimmied out of her scarlet dress, baring her enhanced body: her big bountiful breasts, the sweep of her wide hips, her sexy ass, her still hungry pussy. Despite everything she could still feel the hot ache of arousal in her belly. Cool night breezes caressed her curves. Hope wolf whistled and Juliette blushed, hurried over to the hot tub, hot girl scramble, sat on the edge and dipped her toes into the amber bubbling water. It was hot, but pleasantly so, a flesh braising bathwater temperature. Juliette slipped into the hot tub all at once, hissed at the flush of heat, and blinked at the new sensation of her larger breasts floating. She settled back against the wall and a hot jet of water manifested behind her back, perfectly aligned. She sighed happily, “A girl could get used to this?”

“The makeover?” Hope asked.

“I meant the hot tub,” Juliette responded, but then thought about how nice it felt to be suddenly beautiful and desirable, how vital her body felt now, how alive, even if it came with this stubborn aching arousal… What would it be like to live this way for a whole month? An entire year? A lifetime?  “But I guess the makeover too.”

“It looks really good on you,” Hospitality said proudly. 

“Thanks,” Juliette said. “I guess this sounds shallow, but it’s been fun being a hottie today, even with the added horny factor.”

“I’m sorry about the married guy.”

“Me too,” Juliette said, because while she was definitely down to fornicate, actual adultery was a sin too far.  And speaking of fornicating: “I really did want to get laid tonight…”

“It’s not too late,” Hope said impishly, “There are some good clubs close to me, I bet you could find a pretty playmate.”

Juliette gave it some thought: she really wanted to have sex, but the idea of going back to her room, fixing her hair and makeup, wiggling into another cute outfit, maybe that little black dress, and then dragging herself to a dark, loud nightclub, alone, not to dance with friends, but to hunt down some stranger to fuck, didn’t sound particularly fun. It read like a formula to end up in the arms of another creep and then to do something she’d regret in the morning. She crossed her arms under her ample chest, “I think I’ve lost my appetite for a random hook up…”

“I could do it,” Hope said brightly, floating close to Juliette.

Juliette arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, “You have complimentary sex toys?”

“No silly,” Hope kissed Juliette on her lips, “I could fuck you.”

“What!?”

Hope wrapped her arms around Juliettes neck, “Sex work is one of the guest services I provide.”

“Hospitality!”

“Jules, don’t be so shocked; I’m a demonic hotel, obviously I have succubi on staff. Incubi too.” She grinned lasciviously, “You should be glad that Chastity is my sister…”

“Hope…”

Hope kissed Juliette again, harder this time, hungry, a forked tongue slipping between their lips. “Juliette, Brian is an idiot for leaving you. You’re a beautiful person and kind, and I love you dearly.” Another kiss, tender and lingering, “Let me give you the pleasure you deserve.”

Juliette was speechless for a moment, her heart was racing somewhere between panic and excitement, Hope’s lithe bellhop body was so close to her, so redly naked and slippery wet in the hot water, so available. She felt  her pulse throb in her cunt and that stubborn hungry ache. “Fuck,” she mumbled, what should she do? Could she really fuck her best friend? Lay with a sex demon? This was fucking crazy! But, well, why the fuck not? She had almost went home with some old asshole, was this any worse? She at least liked Hope, trusted her, this was a lot better wasn’t it? A messy rebound hookup with a friend. The very definition of a sexy mistake. Juliette grabbed Hope by the back of her head and kissed her passionately, pressing their nude bodies together in the hot water. “Okay,” she gasped, voice husky.

“Go back to your room,” Hope commanded, voice pregnant with arousal. “Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll make sure nobody bothers you.” She leered and bit her lip with fangs, purred: “I’m waiting for you.”

Juliette climbed out of the hot tub and hurried to the elevator, her wet body dripping, her bare skin prickling in the cold night air. She stepped inside the car, was surrounded by brass and mirrors, saw her beautiful body reflected and refracted into a nude collage. A curve of hip. A perfect tit. The sweep of neck, shoulder. Her engorged and glistening cunt. Machinery hummed and gravity dropped as she fell. The door dinged opened onto her floor, the hallway empty, yawning, her bare feet padding along the rough industrial carpet. Her heart beat faster in her chest and her nipples were painfully erect. The distance back to her room felt longer somehow, stretched out, antagonistic to her urgent need. She resisted the urge to stop, to stroke herself, to run her hands over her perfect body, to prematurely succumb to lust. She felt feverish, naked skin flush, body and hair somehow completely dry, her pussy soaking wet. She stumbled forward on unsteady feet. Finally, at last, she reached her room, 666, her pussy throbbing with anticipation. The door silently opened for her. 

“Hearken, O Juliette, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own modesty, and thy father's morals; So shall Hope greatly desire thy beauty: for she is thy hotel; and worshipful staff. And Juliette in her Lust shall be there with a gift; even the rich among the guests shall intreat thy favour. Sexy Juliette is all glorious within: her cunt is of molten gold.”

Juliette stepped inside.

The room had transformed. Gone were the quirky wall paper, the tastefully anonymous furniture, the houseplants and art, the comfy hotel bed, and in their place was a sex dungeon. The room was larger somehow, rounder, swollen in some architecturally impossible way, engorged with potential. The walls were covered with crushed black velvet and the windows were hidden behind heavy crimson curtains that blocked out the world. The entire ceiling was an unbroken mirror and the floor had become a soft and luxurious deeply piled white carpet that Juliette’s bare feet sunk into. The lighting was dim and amber, a flattering soft glow that conjured dramatic shadow and hid imperfection and accentuated the flesh. There was quiet music playing, sourceless, a deep bass low-fi thump like a beating heart. The room air seemed to move, to expand and contract, like expectant lungs. At the center of the room was a new bed, enormous and round, emperor sized, with black silk sheets and large red pillows and four naked demons waiting for her pleasure.

The four demons were arranged provocatively, lithe bodies languidly relaxed but organized for display, presented to Juliette like trinkets or morsels on a plate. There were two demoness, identical twins, red-skinned and sexual, Hospitality after a pornstar makeover. One of them was laid across the bed on her side: goat-horned head propped up, hair a midnight cascade, large impossibly full breasts hanging, gentle slope down a toned belly, the peaked swell of wide hips, endlessly long legs, an indolent barbed tail. Her beautiful angular face wore a mask of boredom, cracked, Hopish giddy arousal peeking through. The other twin succubus was on her front, lips slightly open, big tits filling the frame of her arms, tiny bat wings on her narrow back, her plump ass upward, her tail coiled around upraised legs  touching pointed hooves. Her face was a mirror of her twin. Seated on the edge of the bed was a male demon, an incubus, slender and wiry, almost feminine in his lean red body, the male version of the two succubi. He had shaggy chin length hair, goat horns, and a sharp clean-shaven face that smirked a playful challenge. Kneeling on the bed was another male demon, but this one was muscular and towering. His hair was cropped short and he had a wide strong chin coated in black stubble and thick ram horns growing from his skull. He was built like a linebacker: his chest was wide, with prominent pectorals, chiseled abs, mountainous shoulders, and swollen biceps. He smiled, confident and easy. All of the demons watched Juliette, and she shivered, although from arousal or nervousness she wasn’t sure. 

Juliette took a deep shuddering breath, clenched her fists, felt her insides twist and ache, arousal drip down her thigh. She walked into the bedroom.

The demons opened to her like a flower, moved like synchronized dancers, created a space for her to occupy. Juliette came among them, singled one out, a succubus, kissed her greedily, her mouth soft and warm and spicy and sweet like sin. Slender arms circled her, clutched her, large breasts pressed to hers. More hands touched Juliette, caressed her, slender fingers stroking her flanks, strong rough hands on her ass, caressing her breasts, her thighs, her shoulders. Another pair of lips kissed her neck, bit her gently with fanged teeth. She moaned, felt a forked tongue lick the nape of her neck, the sharp rasp of stubble, strong arms circle her waist like iron, a tail coil around her ankle, the hot hard pressure of a massive erection in the small of her back. Juliette laughed, delighted, reveled in the feeling of worship, of being enveloped in affection. 

Juliette gasped as a hand finally touched her cunt, her enflamed, drooling, pulsing cunt. Electric lust surged through her, pure animal sexual need. She whimpered into the mouth of the succubus, knees weak, would have collapsed if not for the demon holding her up. “Ahh-hhhhnnn…” she groaned. “Oh Juliette,” the succubus purred. “My beautiful Jules,” Hope said with a deep masculine voice behind her. A thick finger stroked her cunt, and slender hands kneaded her tits. Juliette moaned, kissed the succubus, hungry and desperate, biting her lip, assenting. She was bent forward slightly, lifted to her toes, and she felt a bulging hardness press against her labia. She gasped and whimpered as the burning glans rubbed against her, spread her lips, pushed through, entering, stretching, invading, filling the ravenous void of her cunt. Juliette opened her mouth, but only a breathless grunt escaped her. The succubus kisses her again, lips chewing hers, hands roaming, fondling, stroking, and the muscular incubus inside her body started to fuck her, slowly, assertively, his strong arms and legs moving both of them. Juliette could only whimper and pant as she was held aloft and fucked, gloriously fucked from behind while a succubus kissed her neck and tits, sucked on her nipples. The demon fucked her harder, faster, pumped Juliette along his enormous length, she saw stars, and wailed, came, legs floundering uselessly in the air. 

The demoness pulled Juliette onto the bed, on top of her, or maybe the muscular incubus tackled them both, but Juliette was bent flat over the bed, feet on floor, chest to chest with Hope, lips touching, kissing, snarling, while the demon fucked her, his hips slamming into her, balls slapping, cock splitting her, smashing her body into the succubus, over and over and over and over, until the muscular incubus grabbed her hair, tugged sharply, and growled as he came, his cock exploding inside Juliette in a torrent of burning semen. Juliette’s world exploded and she bit the demoness on the lip, hard, tasted black demonic blood, as she spasmed, muscles slamming taut with orgasm.

Juliette felt herself go limp, pliable, was drawn further onto the bed, the demon’s cock sliding and sliding out of her, burning cum drooling down her thigh. She felt a hand on her head, pressure, found her face buried in a cunt between silky red thighs. Juliette kissed the nether lips, licked them, tasted the pungent spice of cunt. A demonic tail wrapped around her shoulder, lassoed her head, entrapped her face, her lips, her tongue held firm against succubus pussy.  “Jules…” Hope emitted a hoarse moan, and Juliette clutched her ass, drew herself up to her knees, started to eat pussy, licking and sucking. As soon as Juliette lifted her hips she felt hands grip her pelvis and a body grind against her ass, a cock barge against her cunt. “Juliette…” She gasped and squeezed her thighs, captured the huge rubbery heat of cock, and squirmed, painting it with her boiling wet need and leftover discharged semen. She heard a masculine laugh and felt a slim hand reach under her, part her thighs, and slam that long hard cock into her. Juliette yelped, surprised, clued in that she was being fucked by a second demon, a second man, used like a whore. The demon started to thrust and she moaned, overcome with pleasure, bucked her hips against him. The succubus yanked on her head with her tail, squeezed her with her thighs, “Jules, don’t stop,” she begged, “so close…” So Juliette buried her head and went back to work as she was roughly fucked, buffeted, slammed, face into pussy, over and over, cacophonous. Juliette gasped and came, and came again, carried along, deliriously licking and sucking, mouth operating mostly by instinct, jaw aching a little, cunt gloriously punished, until the succubus made a primordial guttural sound, crushed her head with thighs and tail, and the incubus fucking her dug his claws into her hips, and smashed himself into her one last time, and hissed “Juliette!” as his cock erupted inside her cunt…

Juliette blinked her eyes, the world felt dreamy, unreal, her body made of softening wax muscles and a burning liquid core. She crawled onto the bed, felt a strong hand grip her chin, lift. She knelt, subservient, looked up to see the slender incubus smile at her, playful delight, Hope’s eyes in a fuckboi’s face, “Oh Juliette…”. He guided his massive cock to Juliette’s face and she opened her lips, took him into her hot mouth, lips stretched wide, sucked on his length, tasting salty cum and her own cunt. She felt hands on her back, big strong masculine hands, that grabbed her by the hips and lifted, pulled her back onto all fours, hands and knees. She moaned around the cock in her mouth, and felt something press against her cunt, something wide and hard, but not a cock… a tail! A tail which forcefully slithered inside her vagina, impaled her, stretched her! She gasped! It was so big! So different! Juliette wiggled her hips, whined as something hot and hard was barged against her asshole! A cock! She gagged on the cock in her mouth and trembled as a cock rammed through the tight clench of her sphincter, jammed into the taut furnace of her virgin asshole. It hurt! A sharp discomfort, a feeling of being stuffed and bloated, but also pleasure, new and dirty. She could feel the tail and cock both inside her body, felt them bulge and nearly touch, separated only by the thin membranes of her guts. Juliette was held like that, pinioned, a cock in her mouth and in her asshole, two lovers on either end of her hollow center, trapped. She braced herself, too deeply invested to protest, eager to be used. Both demons started to thrust, to simultaneously fuck her face and sodomize her, roughly hammering her holes. Juliette felt defiled, dirty, like a plaything, a toy to fuck. She moaned around the cock, tears stinging her eyes at the sharp discomfort in her ass, the ache in her jaw, buffeted roughly. It felt so good! So hot to be used like this! She twitched and braced, whimpered, and heard two male voices grunt “Jules” in unison, tense against her body, and nearly chocked as a torrent of cum flooded her throat and rectum. She collapsed, worn out and glowing, orifices aching.

Juliette was rolled onto her back, she must have been, she was looking down at herself out of body? Her reflection in the ceiling mirror. She looked exhausted and disheveled, panting, flushed, spent. She felt a soft warm body on her legs, looked down to see a demoness slither between her thighs, a long rough tongue lick her cunt. Juliette gasped, twisted, looked down her body to see Hope’s eyes staring up at her, affection and lust. Juliette tilted her head back, panting, reveling in the lips and tongue exploring her cunt and then thighs were on her cheeks as the second succubus climbed onto her face, straddled her head, pressed her pussy onto Juliette’s mouth. Juliette kissed her proffered cunt, dutifully started to eat out the demonic snatch while being carried away by infernal cunnilingus, her first lesbian threesome. Somewhere, somehow Juliette and the demoness come and the group rearranges. She was fucking the incubus, on top this time, reverse cowgirl, just a solo rodeo ride. She was held down by the demons, captured, teased endlessly by the succubi, pleading, begging for mercy, for orgasm, taken to the edge and denied. She was eaten out by the largest demon, rough stubble on her thighs, her hands white knuckled gripping his ram horns, a demoness sucking on his cock. She was fucked missionary style, on her back legs spread, a demon inside her, the other demon inside him, fucking him in the ass the entire time, the combined weight of two bodies thrusting down upon her. Juliette furiously making out with a demoness, with beautiful Hope, whispering desires and promises, while she sat on a demons face and Hope rode his cock, an obscene triangle. Juliette taking a breather, jacking off the demons while the succubi kissed and fucked, acted out a live porno show. She tried and failed to scissor. She sucked off two dicks at once. Her asshole was licked clean by a long forked tongue. She sucked on demonic titties and fingered herself, had her own titties sucked and was fingered in return. She was fucked over and over and over. Her mind was euphoric, her body wracked by uncounted orgasms, chains of pleasure that left her delirious, mind akimbo, euphoric. Her legs were burning and sore, her body shaky weak, her cunt and asshole and mouth ached, fluids leaked out of her, coated her chest and ass and face, her once perfect hair was perfectly a tangled mess. She felt gloriously obliterated! She had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? Hours? An entire day? And yet, somehow, she still craved more… more sensation, more sex, more orgasms… to keep fucking Hope forever… eternal ecstasy…

The door to room 666 banged open and another demon joined the party. This Hope was huge, seven feet tall and muscular, but curvaceous and severely beautiful. She had a strong-chinned angular face and gigantic backswept ibex horns growing back from her forehead like a demonic crown. Her skin was dark red and covered in swirling black tattoos like a contract written into her flesh and her hair was a raven cape that was stirred by an unseen wind. She had six powerful arms and six huge breasts on her chest and torso, heavy and round, tipped with sharp black nipples. This regal Hope had powerful wide haunches and legs that ended in wide cloven hooves. She had six tails growing from her spine, prehensile and tentacular, barbed at the end with phallic spades. On her crotch grew a cock, an enormous demonic penis, as long as Juliette’s arm and covered in whorls and ridges and bumps and barbs. The top of the cock was flat and wide like a stallion, and her balls were ripe and round and heavy like a bull. A black stone throne emerged from the floor and the demoness sat up on it, thighs spread, cock jutting obscenely like a scepter. “Come to me,” she commanded.

Juliette moaned, wanted to go to her but was too weak to stand, but the two succubi helped her to her wobbly feet, guided her swaying to the hulking demoness, where she knelt at her hooves. The two strong demons lifted her up, onto Queen Hope’s lap, steadied Juliette as she accepted the huge demonic cock into her body. Juliette gasped soundlessly, a strangled submissive noise from deep inside, as inch after inch after inch after inch of cock slid into her body, parting her labia into a taut strained circle, stretching her horribly, impossibly, the tightness making her aware of every bump, ridge, and whorl of the huge penis. She felt as though she had been impaled, her insides bursting, more cock inside than she could ever safely accommodate, and yet she felt no pain, just waves of orgasmic pressure that smashed over her like a racing heart beat. Juliette moaned and writhed, felt the cock grab her insides and fasten her in place. She was caught, snared, entrapped like a puppet. 

“Tell me, Juliette,” Hospitality asked through her Demonic Hotel Manager, “Are you truly happy in your life?”

Six hands stroked her, clutched her, and six tails wound around her legs and thighs, tight and possessive, constricting. Juliette gasped, too breathless to answer, the cock inside somehow pressing against her diaphragm. She wheezed and shook her head no.

“Your empty apartment? Your hollow job you never truly wanted? Your loneliness and abandonment? Do you truly wish to return to that?”

“Nnno,” Juliette barely rasped, body almost bursting.

“Do you not feel more alive here? More vital in this body? More vibrant? Adventurous? Sexually satisfied beyond your wildest experience?”

Juliette bit her lip, nodded, felt the cock inside her swell and root tighter, anchor her to Hope.

“Do you want the pleasure to continue? Not just for the rest of your stay, or your contracted month? Do you desire more?” Six hands stroked Juliette: her temples, her shoulders, her spine… she felt her flesh blossom and swell, new unfamiliar muscles flex, she coiled something, reached down and grabbed… her tail. She had a tail! A black spaded tail! And horns and little wings! Fuck! She was a demoness… like Hope… oh fuck it felt so good! “Hhhhhhahhhhh…” she gasped through a newly fanged mouth, orgasm tearing through her impaled demonic form.

“Jules, this could be you. Your reality. All you have to do is embrace it, all it will cost is your soul.” Hospitality smiled, gentle, caring. “I love you Juliette and I want what is best for you.”

Juliette mewled, frowned, felt the cock inside her change, the bumps and whorls rotate, caress, and grind within her vagina. Did she want this? Could she Fall? Become a demon? What would her family say?

“Jules…” Hope said grabbing her chin, tilting her head upward for eye contact. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been. I leased my soul to fix my material problems, but I discovered my purpose, my joy. I am never, ever going back to who I was before.” Hope smiled, beautifully, and Juliette came again, writhing around the cock that completely filled her, wings flapping, new tail flailing. “However good that feels for you, it is so much better for me.”

 

“Me.” 

“Me.” 

“Me.”

“Me.”

Juliette’s head was swimming! She couldn’t think! The cock inside her was so huge! So encompassing! Her body was so aflame with desire! With pleasure! She didn’t want it to end! But could she do this? Could she sell her soul? Join Hope in demonic damnation? “Gahhhh…” 

“Join me,” Hope says, voice thick with desire, her eyes suddenly voraciously hungry.

“Yah-yessss” Juliette whimpered. “Yes!”

Hope smiled, pleased and greedy, clutched Juliette to her six tits, enveloped her in her many arms. “My Patron will draw you a contract.”

“Ahh-hhhh…”

Hope grinned with impish humanity, “What do you know about all-inclusive beach resorts?”

THE END