The Devil in Drag -1- Conjurations

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The Devil wants a date for Armageddon...


Chapter I - "Conjurations"

The Devil in Drag

by Lainie Lee

Chapter I "Conjurations"

 

"You're gorgeous!" Phil exclaimed.

Satan kissed the air in front of her perfect cupid's-bow mouth. "You say the sweetest thangs, sugah," he drawled in a magnolias-and-mint-juleps accent. Maybe the smoky growl was pitched just a tad too deep.

Phil back-pedaled quickly, literally as well as figuratively. Old Nickie sashayed forward and put her long white kid gloves on Phil's shoulders. The Princess of Air and Darkness purred in his best contralto. "Now you just tell me whut it is you want, honey, and we'll see if we cain't make ourselves a de- al."

"B-but, but the Devil is a GUY!" Phil managed a stammer while walking backward. He barely avoided tripping over the end table he had used to fasten down one corner of plastic protecting his mother's living room carpet from the chalk pentagram he'd drawn. The spell he'd cribbed from www.walpurgisnacht.com had said nothing about this.

He felt grubby in his jeans and t-shirt in front of this vision. "You're dressed like a PROM QUEEN, for Chrissake!" All he'd wanted was a date for the Halloween party on Saturday.

"Like mah tiara?" Nickie preened, having caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over the couch. "Ah am a princess, y'know." She fluffed her platinum bouffant and adjusted the lavender ribbon around her slender neck to better display the cameo she wore. The Devil frowned prettily at Phil's reflection and smoothed the satin of her Bill Mackie original over her lush hips. "Ah'd be more kyerful about the profanity, if ah were you. The ma-an upstairs has some mighty strict rules about that sort of thang." She swung around to face Phil again. "Now, once more, whut did you want?"

"If you're the Devil why are you dressed like THAT? And isn't the pentagram supposed to keep you inside it?" Phil had just noticed the dainty feet in their satiny high heels were standing half in, half out of the pentagram.

"Oh, it will, if you draw it right!" Satan tried out a girlish giggle. She was beginning to get the pitch right, a little more Loni Anderson, a little less Tennessee Ernie Ford. "Seems you forgot the virgin's blood that's 'sposed to be mixed into the chalk, sugah. I reckon you could have pricked yoah fanger for the necessary. Maybe you were to busy fangerin' yoah prick?" She smiled like a Fallen Angel. "As to yoah, first question, honey, it's the third odd Thursday in the month."

"Huh?"

"Gotta please all mah constituents, you know. It's an election year," she simpered.

"What?"

Old Scratch pursed her mouth in a delicate pout. "If Ah weren't a lady, Ah just know Ah'd swear. This is getting plumb tiresome." She flounced into the kitchen and paused to glare at a chair then turned her smoldering glance on Phil. "If you were any kind of gentleman, you'd offer a poah Southern belle whose feet are pure killin' her a chair and somepin' to drank." Her lower lip trembled.

"Oh, sure, right." Phil pulled out the chair for Satan and placed it under her round little derriere. "Orange juice alright?" he asked.

Satan smiled up at Phil saucily, showing her dimples. "If'n it's got jest a drop of gin in it, it'll be fahn, sugah."

"Um," Phil swallowed. "We-we don't have any gin." His gangly nineteen year old frame seemed about to fold up on itself like a cheap jackknife.

"Vodka, then." She licked her lips in anticipatory delight. Her bosom inflated slightly and so did Phil's eyeballs.

"No vuh-vodka, either," he croaked.

Satan mimed alarm, one delicate gloved hand at her rosy cheek. "Anythang then, aquavit, brandy, bourbon, Manieshevitz, schnapps, tequila, jest somepin' with a li'l kick to it." She fluttered her eyelashes and fanned herself with her hand. "Ah may faint," the devil announced in an affected voice.

"Um, Miss-uh, I mean. Well, my Mom is President of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, we're tee-totalers."

"In this day an' age?" The Queen of Hell pouted. "You mean to tell me you doan even have any cookin' wahn? Nothin' to offer an invahted guest?"

Phil shook his head miserably.

"You did invaht me, didn't you?"

"Uh, well, I guess so. I mean, technically. Yes."

"Well, then, find me somepin' to drank, pizza-face. Sterno if that's all you've got. Ah'm immune to all pizens y'know but Ah have this teensy li'l ol' drankin' problem." She batted her eyelashes again and Phil promptly forgot about the insultingly apt endearment she had tagged him with.

He scrambled his way through the kitchen cabinets, searching. Once upon a time his father had been given a bottle of Cutty Sark for Christmas by a misguided client. He didn't find that but he discovered a bottle whose label proclaimed 40% alcohol. "Vanilla extract!" he exclaimed in relief.

Satan pursed her lips, "It'll do. Poah 'bout half the bottle into the orange juice." When the promised drink had been produced, The Girl Who Fell to Earth pronounced it, "Delish. With a little Bailey's it'd taste jest lahk a fifty- fifty bar. You got the talent of a first class bartendah, sugah." A pink little tongue licked golden drops off ruby lips.

Phil cleared his throat nervously.

"Won't you sit down, honey," Satan purred. "Ah'm purely gettin' a crick in mah neck lookin' up at you."

Phil sat.

Nickie patted his knee affectionately, giggling. "Now listen carefully, sugah. You have been most hospitable to a poah li'l gal from WAY down South but there is somepin' I jest hafta know."

"Um, what's that?"

"Oo. Is it warm in here to you?" She fanned herself theatrically then began to remove her gloves. "Silly me. Gotta take off my rangs first." She laid five baubles on the table, each worth the price of a Middle Eastern sheikdom and resumed tugging on the white kidskin. "Ah lahk them to fit tight, but it is hard to get them off after awhile. Could I trouble you to he'p me get it started with yoah big strong MALE muscles, sugah?" She presented one delicate limp hand in its snowy prison.

"Uh," Phil grunted. Trembling, he grasped the tip of her forefinger in his hand and attempted to pull but the kidskin was too slick for his grip.

"You gotta hold on tight, sugah, if'n you don't want to fall off."

He tried again. I can't really hurt her if I grip harder, he reasoned, she's the Devil. He wrapped his right hand around her left forefinger and pulled. The glove loosened and a ripping noise erupted from the back of Phil's chair.

Satan tittered, Phil blushed. Nickie removed both gloves with no further problem and resumed fanning herself with them. "I would sweah it doesn't usually work that way, sugah. I mean, if I weren't a lady, I would swear." She began fiddling with the gold chain of her cameo. "Now, as I said before, I need to know somepin'."

"Wh-what's that?" His eyes were fastened to the cameo.

"That? Oh, it's mah locket," she simpered.

"Huh." Phil stared at the bauble blankly.

"Oh, you mean what is it Ah need to know. Well, sugah, you invited me into your home and served me well and even, if I say so, had lascivious thoughts about me. But, and this is the third time Ah've asked you, what is it you want from me?" The cameo, at that moment, separated from its chain and plunged into the valley between the mounds of her breasts.

"Gah!" sputtered Phil.

"Sugah?" asked Nickie sweetly.

"Ook!" he choked.

"Is there somepin' you're tryin' to tell me?"

"Muh, yuh, luh." Phil struggled to express a thought, any thought.

Nickie smiled so sweetly any termites in the walls surely died of acute diabetes. She turned her lovely face to the ceiling and addressed herself to the Royal Oak Combination Chandelier and Ceiling Fan. "How was that? I warned him twice, I asked him thrice. I counted the questions, ever so nice. He served me wine, he wasted time. You know I know You know he's mine."

"Doggerel," complained a Voice from Above.

Nickie shrugged her pretty shoulders. "It's Your curse, it could be worse. You commanded me to speak to You ever in verse." Phil nervously searched the ceiling visually for some source of the Voice.

"Well, it's annoying." The Voice sighed.

Nickie smiled a wicked little smile. "I win. Again. Now judge my servant in his sin."

"He's not your servant. He's a good boy, he's still a virgin at nineteen." Phil blushed at the Voice's accurate pronouncement.

"Three times he did as he was bade, three times the question to him was made. And You know as well as I do that his wish is to get laid." Nickie's triumphant smirk still looked cute as Hell.

"He was only playing with being a witch, he didn't know it would actually work. Besides you distracted him with that locket trick." It was beginning to penetrate to Phil just Who the Voice was.

Nickie protested, her lower lip protruding in a pout. "Look, I gave him three more tries. I am the Queen of Lies. If I have to play fair the game is no fun at all."

"That doesn't rhyme."

"It will in time."

"You can't have him."

Nickie sighed. "Look, Josh, I'm not dim. He may have tried the witch's robes on just for size, but if he's not mine now, he is when he dies. If You're

gonna break our contract to save him, it's Your call. Armageddon tired of waitin', anticipatin', let's get this over with and end it all." She grinned, knowing the Hellish pun and her use of His own Words in her rhymes would annoy Him further.

The Voice sighed. Phil trembled realizing that Satan was threatening to move up the date of Judgement if she didn't get his soul. His knees went weak, his vision went dark around the edges. This can't be happening, he thought. I'm having a weird dream, I'll wake up now.

He willed himself awake. Nothing happened. I'm going to be sick, I'm going to faint, I'm going to throw up or pass out or both.

The Devil in the prom gown and the Voice from Above continued their debate, oblivious to his distress.

"You can't take a virgin to Hell just for wanting to have sex. In this day and age a nineteen-year-old virgin is practically a saint," the Voice said.

"You keep changing the rules, protecting these fools; I tell You he summoned me to his own damnation. He served me in my celebration, he's one of my tools." The pretty little Princess of Air and Darkness whirled to point at Phil, causing him to flinch and dodge foolishly.

"One of yours, huh? Then you could use him to bring about the downfall of some other soul, right? Just try it, sister. He'd rather spit on his mother's grave than serve you." Phil could not believe his ears, the Voice was taunting the Devil.

"Wanna bet, Mr. Four-Letter-Word? Or can it be You haven't heard? Every mortal being has his price. I could turn him to my uses in a trice.

"But let me get this straight, 'cause the Doomsday clock says it's getting late. You want to have a contest o'er this bird? Can I believe what I just heard?" Nickie's eyes gleamed in her excitement. "These little wagers give eternity its spice! You know me well to so tickle my vice. What are the terms? Don't make me wait! Name Your wager, and it's a date!"

The Voice paused then intoned in mighty majesty,
     "Satanas, you shall have till Strangefellow's Day next,
     To subtract his soul from the Number of the Elect!
     Free Will, Free Choice, freely made and freely given!
     If by his sin one other is lost from the Roll of Heaven,
     You will have won the wager and shall name your forfeit!
     Keep the souls or free them and I shall give you let
     To name the hour in which the Last Blessed Trump shall blow
     Thus ending Our contest and struggle here below!"

Phil trembled at the thought of such tragedy.

     "Three times his virgin soul you must taint,
     Else he goes free at the end of our bet!
     Three mortal sins, he loses all, but lest
     In your despite, he remain a saint
     He shall have won from you the forfeit
     Of a wish! Not one from your lying Grammarie
     But a True Wish, free of hellish jest!
     Accept you these terms, O, Adversary?"

The Devil in Drag winced. "You call that poetry? I can do better in my sleep! But if I don't accept the terms, he's mine to keep? You must have made one Heavenly joke, when earlier of Armageddon you spoke?"

The Voice seemed amused, "Know, Satan, that to all mortals I show My Grace and Love. But 'tis for you to find out, does Lord Jehovah bluff?"

Satan chewed the end of a dainty fingernail in frustration. Phil, dazed and dizzy, sought out a kitchen chair and collapsed into it. The Voice waited silently.

Nickie sighed, patted her blonde hair absently, smiled sweetly at Phil-- causing him to flinch involuntarily--then looked coyly at the ceiling. "I can do anything I want with him during the bet? Anything short of injuring his precious free will? Hey, I'm not rhyming anymore, you get tired of that game?" She simpered at the Royal Oak Combination Fan and Chandelier.

"This one is better," said the Voice. "And the answer to your first question is yes, you may do anything you like with his physical body." Phil listened, horrified, numb, shocked and mute. God and the Devil were playing a game and he was one of the markers!

"Ah accept," said Nickie, her cornpone accent had instantly returned. She turned to Phil and wrinkled her cute little nose at him. "Relax, sugah, this is gonna be fun."

"God," Phil whispered.

"He's gone," said Satan. "Deserted you. Left you to mah gentle charms." She watched him critically for a moment then decided that despair based on abandonment by God was not going to be an effective lever on a child of the television age. Shock, however....

Phil noticed that Nickie's eye teeth were pointy and prominent and that her gaze roamed critically over his body. He felt nervous, naked and never more than nineteen.

"You're a mess, sugah. No wonder you cain't get laid." Nickie tsked. "Your complexion looks like someone planted corn then burnt the field before the harvest. Your hair is nice stuff but you went to the same barber as Bill Gates. And those clothes, surely you bought them at some yard sale. Well, nemmine, sugah. Momma Satan's gonna fix."

Phil swallowed. "What are you going to do?" He wished his parents would get home. He wished he'd never stumbled across that website. He wished that looking at Nickie didn't make him sweat and tremble. He wished she weren't so beautiful. He wished he didn't have a hard on.

"Well," said Nickie. "We can fix that last one!"

Suddenly terrified of the Princess of Air and Darkness, who certainly seemed capable of reading his mind, Phil bolted past her toward the stairs.

Nickie laughed, a tinkling sound full of magical broken promises. "We'll have to make sure you can get laid, sugah. Just anytime you want to, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

The offer alarmed him more than anything else she might have said. She would read his mind and know, KNOW, how desperately he wished to "get laid." He stumbled on the first step of the stairs. It didn't seem to be where he'd thought it should be. When he lifted his foot, it came right out of his shoe, the sock dangling loosely.

He shook his head in consternation and alarm and something brushed his neck, his shoulders, his cheek. He tried to continue up the stairs but his pant legs flapped about his feet, tripping him. The waist band had settled around his hips and the jeans were now more than a foot too long.

When he put out his arms to catch himself, they had shrunk also. Delicate little fingers sprang from tiny little palms at the end of much shortened arms.

"What's happening to me?" He tried to ask but his voice sounded strange, squeaky, almost childish.

His gaze followed his now smoothly rounded arms up to where two bulges in the front of his t-shirt gave him another clue as to what the Devil in Drag had done to him. Blonde curls dangled in his face, obscuring his vision as he tried to look down. The mounds on his chest were tipped with darker color visible through the straining t-shirt. He had tits! Big ones!

Nickie simpered at him. "It's always easier for a girl to get sex, sugah. 'Specially a girl as pretty as you. And being built like a brick shithouse won't hurt neither."

Phil caught sight of the mirror above the couch. A beautiful blonde babe tangled up in his clothes lay across the first few steps of the stairs. Her wide blue eyes stared directly back into his. His hand flew to his mouth and in perfect, beautiful, synchronicity her hand flew to hers.

"You gonna have to beat the boys off with a stick," said Nickie. She smirked. "But if you use your hands, most of 'em will be back for moah."

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Comments

That accent...

kristina l s's picture

...must be really tough to keep up. Silly boy. All those stories on the net and he still....
Oh Well. He's in for some..ah, fun? now.
Kristina

The devil in drag

Didn't seem to me like it was much of a drag sugah. Seemed to me like Nickie was having a whale of a time.

You gotta finish this sugah, and soon
Else half the readers here will swoon

I think I'll leave the 'poetry' to you

Smashing start....

Nick B

Just speaking for myself

If I summonedSatan and she appeared time ti rethink the plan.