Epilogue: The Things I Do For Love

Blaze stared at the pile of steaming dogshit on the grass before her. Somehow, she felt this was a metaphor for her life. With a sigh, the demon levitated the turd from the turf. A biodegradable baggie hovered into place under it. The poop slid down silently into its new home, the tie tied itself, and the whole warm package floated gently into the garbage bag she was holding.

Six feet away, Blaze saw another dog squat. The owner was talking on their smartphone. Her crimson brow crinkled, a curse came to mind...and her whole leg went numb as the jeweled manacle around her ankle earthed the malicious magic before the demon had a chance to hurl it at the offender.

Raising her hands, the scarlet succubus rubbed the base of her horns.

Noon found her at the shelter. The poor existed, despite all the superpowers that blessed this world. Blaze stood in her apron, gloves, and a special hairnet that covered her horns. Her pure white eyes slid across the refuse of humanity that arrayed itself before her. Teenage runaways. **** addicts. The mentally ill. People who had failed at life. They ran their trays down the line, and Blaze laded out soup, gravy, whatever vegetables they had today. Some of them were scared of her. Some were religious. A few reeked of desperation.

"Please," the thin woman wheezed. There were sores on her face where she'd been picking at it, a waxy pallor to the skin. "You can have my soul, just...I need a hit."

Blaze gave her some extra gravy.

"Just eat, Sheila." the demon said. "I don't do that anymore. I can't."

Afternoon found her at the library. Brightly-colored books. Children with runny noses, wiping them on their sleeves, wiping boogers in her hair. Yet this was still the best part of her day.

"The Witches," she said with relish. "By Roald Dahl."

The kids were breathless with excitement. They hung onto every word. It brought a smile to the demon's face...right up until she had to meet their parents. In the past weeks, Blaze had found the appropriate wardrobe for her community service assignments: durable, comfortable, uncomplicated. The fact that the pants did little to conceal her inseam, or that the v-necks on her t-shirts occasionally showed a bit of cleavage, was enough to raise the ire of the fat cows that came to collect their little brats.

"Slut," one of them whispered, just loud enough to hear it.

Hellfire blossomed briefly on Blaze's palm...and then her whole body shook, frozen in a momentary rictus of agony as the energy was forcefully drained away by her bondage gear. Leaving the demon grasping the desk, gasping for air as the cunt walked away.

It was dark by the time Blaze came home to their apartment. Her brain felt numb. Tomorrow was sorting books at the library, trash pickup on the highway, and spending time with the elderly. The day after it would be back to picking up dogshit.

"Lilith's tits," the scarlet succubus murmured as she crossed the threshold.

Lois was on her in an instant.

No hello, no "how was your day?" or "how do you do?" The door slammed shut and Blaze's back was to the wall. Pants down, cock out, and Lois Lane was on her knees and slobbering on it. For a moment, as Lois planted her face on the tip of that cock, her tongue sliding around the purple glans, all of the tension of the day seemed to melt away. Blaze felt herself relax, hips thrust out, letting Lois pull down her pants even as the reporter licked and kissed her ways to worship the demon's balls.

"You're fucking my ass tonight," were the first words that Blaze heard from her beloved all day.

"Of course, sweetmeat," Blaze said. She finally took into account that the reporter was absolutely stark naked, except for a pair of those lacy purple split panties that exposed her pussy and ass.

Then the demon saw what Lois was holding in her hand.

As Lois tried womanfully to stuff both of the great red testes in her mouth, like some demented chipmunk, Blaze bent over and picked up the little plastic rod.

Two blue lines.

"It's only been a month," Blaze said, utterly shocked.

Lois released the balls with a wet gasp and stood up...and then leaped into Blaze's arms. She rubbed her buttocks along the hard shaft.

"And we," the reporter declared. "Are celebrating! I don't want to be able to sit down tomorrow."

Numbly, Blaze carried her pregnant girlfriend to their bed. Lois had already prepared her hole. She drew her legs up behind her shoulders, reached down with her fingers, and spread the little divot of her asshole wide. The demon reached for the lube, not wanting to hurt her. In her excitement, the demon's cock had slowly grown bigger than normal. The soft spines along the glans had blossomed like a sea anemone. The three-lobed piss-slit gaped like a sandworm from one of Lois Lane's sci-fi novels, drooling hot grey pre-cum.

"Fuck me," Lois said, her purple eyes shining. "Fuck my pregnant ass!"

The ass was so hot that for a moment Blaze thought the tip of her cock was melting. The bed creaked as she slid home, Lois gasping as the cock stretched her ass further than ever before, the spines squirming inside of her, the head pushing in deep into her guts, until her balls pressed against that ass...and then Lois squeezed. The demon's body jerked as the ejaculation she had been holding in all day burst forth like a steaming gusher. Black jizz flooded deep inside the reporter's guts, turning the nice and freshly cleaned asshole in a steaming swamp of ebon ooze...and Lois sighed, utterly contented, as though she had been waiting to feel that all day.

Then the reporter's hands gripped Blaze's ass, squeezing the buttocks.

"Did you have a good day?"

Blaze smiled...not her plastered grin for the kids, or the half-smile she so favored, but a soft and secret grin that only Lois ever saw.

"Any day I end coming home to you is a good day."

There were worse ways to come home.