Rise Now The Form of Woman!

"So, are we going to just waltz through the front door with you looking all...demonic?"

The demon growled, laying a hand on one of the bright yellow melons hanging off her chest.

I would we go in and ****,

Pillage every pussy and ass,

Brook no demonic debate,

Nor suffer fools and their sass.

Yet there is wisdom in what you say,

Secrecy may be our best bet,

So this form to one side I will lay,

So demon lover, do not fret!

The demon tossed back her head and howled...

Gone now, O Etrigan!

And rise now the form of woman!

The flesh sank inwards on that frame. Muscle evaporated, skin stretching taught for a moment over bones before those shrank too, assuming a more human size and shape, the horns shrinking in to the skull, the cameltoe withdrawing into the pelvis. It was like watching a kind of decomposition on high speed...except the eyes stayed the same. Aware, knowing as the demon fled the now-mortal form—and something else took over.

Yellow skin gave way to pale, soft flesh. High cheek bones, full lips that had never known lipstick. Brown hair began to to sprout from the head, with a single long streak of white. The flesh drawn tight over the bones began to fill out, forming broad hips and soft shoulders. The costume had reduced to faded rags, and now began to model itself into a kind of club gear—a ripped black t-shirt, a black miniskirt, fishnets and heels.

Breasts came near the end—a generous set that sagged without a bra, but caused the shirt to tent out and hang. Yet they continued to swell, and the ragged bottom of the shirt continued to rise, until two heavy hemispheres like small bowling balls sat glued to her chest, the shirt barely covering the prominent nipples, leaving an expanse of underboob and soft midriff—they seemed no smaller than Lady Etrigan's proud set, but hung off a much smaller frame, seemed even more massive. Lois had never considered herself a "boob" woman before, but staring at those orbs made the demonic balls in her pants throb, an she felt the cock begin to shift of its own accord.

Lois whistled. The brunette before her blinked and then surveyed herself. "Typical demon," she muttered, with a trace of a British accent. "I am...Jacinda Blood."