The Demons’ new boss arrives, and just in time for chaos.

Meanwhile, back in a dark office in the Daten City Central Tower, the two Demon Sisters still wait for their new Hell-Sanctioned boss, with Scanty throwing a crumpled up Fastener against a wall like it were a bouncy ball, while Kneesocks was browsing through a magazine as she waited, flitting through “Hell’s Hottest," no doubt a gossip magazine. Though they wouldn’t have to wait too long, as a little chime similar to one you’d hear in a subway terminal.

The pair shot up, standing at attention at the desk at the tone. Just as they did so, out of nowhere a hellish train spewing fire and covered in a charred black carapace screamed through the room as if it were a tunnel. The infernal transport screeched and roared as it ran at impossible speeds through the desk and chair of the boss’s office, and while running along a track of fire, nary left a burn mark, only leaving papers to be flung into the air and the girls to lean back from the ****, but seemingly keeping their posture, as if it were a standard happening.

After a minute of the helltrain’s course, it vanished the other side of the room, leaving the room spotless save for the rush of wind, and a new occupant that now sat in the chair, facing towards the Demon Sisters in a stern and professional posture.

This newcomer was also crimson-toned as the demons standing before her, if not a lighter shade, though was a measure taller than them judging from her shapely legs crossed in front of her. Her hair was well kempt, clipped up in the back and bangs swept to the right side of her face in a classy businesslike appearance, and colored a neon orange. Her outfit was quite formal yet with quite the air of sexy to it: A black suit-jacket over an unbuttoned business shirt, black tie resting atop of some substantial scarlet cleavage, a tight skirt slipping down to her thighs as sheer stockings ran up her smooth legs to hide underneath, and a pair of sharp, pointed stiletto heels, matching her belt and leather gloves in their blue-grey color.

She peered over a pair of sharp cat eye glasses at the pair, judging their appearance with a calculating flickering of her eye movements. The pair didn’t break their stance, save for a bead of sweat rolling down their face at the intensity of her gaze. They both decided to then perform their prepared greeting, bowing at the waist as they said at once, “Welcome to Daten City, madam.”

The newcomer clicked her tongue as she pushed back up her spectacles, remarking, “Tch, typical. I get assigned to two low-level nerds like you two.”

What she said deflated their mood, looks of bewilderment on their face as they heard what their new boss said. “Wh-what?” Kneesocks stuttered, the most taken aback.

The orange-head raised a gloved hand gesturing towards them, replying, “I mean, just look at you two. Rigid, stuffy-looking, I bet you two are even the type to carry around the Demon Rulebook like it’s something important, am I supposed to be instructing Demons or salarymen, here?” With the same hand, she rubbed the temples of her forehead, “This is why I hate taking the leftovers of Incubi. Too busy fawning over their own interests or other bedpartners to care about how their minions represent you.”

Scanty and Kneesocks’ mood took a tumble as they stood back up, looking apologetic. At least Scanty was, Kneesocks was blushing and holding back her rage. Like how dare she belittle something she was so passionate about her whole life? But she bit back her complaints. It wasn’t a smart move to berate the new boss.

“At any rate,” The boss declared, crossing her fingers over her mouth as she leaned forward onto the desk, “As you probably read from the report, I am Stiletto, Archdemon from the Circle of Pride. And while you may operate as business as usual for the time being, I will be in charge, understood?”

–––

PJs was surprised at this revelation. It seems that this new boss of theirs, Stiletto, was not only smoking hot, but also not really like the other two at all. This proved interesting on how he could probably manipulate their dynamic. Still, despite her mocking the subordinates for their stuffy demeanor, PJs could see when a person like her was more arrogant and uptight than they’d like to think. Being in the service industry for high-class clientele, you tend to get a good grasp at these finer details like her mannerisms and posture, and this woman may act loose and relaxed, it’s only hiding the true meticulous nature of her picky behaviour. The type of person to act like she’s casual-friendly, only to snap the moment that something isn’t meticulously done to her liking.

PJs thought of how to go about this. Of course, going with the Demon Sisters directly like he did the Angels in the test run is an option, but that would probably relay too much suspicion on something going on. Unlike the Angels, the Demons were sharp as a kitchen knife from a Michelin Star chef’s collection, unless it’s their own mistakes. And who knows how perceptive this Stiletto truly is, so both messing with her or the Demon Sisters directly may be not a wise first step, no matter how good it’ll feel to deal with someone like Stiletto after so long of having to deal with people like her.

However, he recalled that during their discussion before, that they had a party celebrating her welcome. Perhaps that would be a good starting point with them while the Demon Sisters work out the management of Mayorship and the disguise logistics for Stiletto.

“I wish I could get a good look at the party room.”

Breathing in the good vibes of another wish, the screen flickered to picture-in-picture the demons on a smaller screen, and the main picture being that of the banquet hall in the building. As expected, it’s the classy type of party. Formally dressed guests, classical music orchestra on stage, long decorated table filled with rich foods and champaign, standing tables with tablecloths, a big banner welcoming the new Mayor, and butler-esque servers wandering around with hors d’oeuvres and champaign glasses on trays. PJs did not miss being those guys, that’s for sure.

But for now, he feels he could “improve” the party a little.

“I wish that the orchestra for the party was instead big band type of music that has a smoking hot lead singer.”

The orchestra rapidly shifts around, like shuffling a deck of cards, and the pudgy male conductor was spun on his heel from the flurry in a whirlwind, ending up spinning to the front of the stage. When he stopped, he looked down to find himself being a herself, now as a leggy busty blonde in a slinky glittering white dress, mic stand in their hand where their baton once was.

The band behind her was looking less posh and more classy jazz band in dress, and began starting up a song, much to their surprise, though likely not as surprised as the conductor-turned-starlet whom began seductively swaying and suggestively holding the mic stand, singing in a sultry tone for the audience to the upbeat frenetic energy of the song, despite her face portraying her distress.

The audience themselves saw this, and were quite confused, even the waitstaff paused in their task to watch the show.

Some of the snootier high-class types decided to harumph and attempt to leave, but PJs didn’t think they should. After all, the party’s just getting started!

“I wish that the people that try to leave the party or interfere with the event in any way will instead head to the dance floor, and dance like an idiot or a slut for a half-hour.”

Just as one of the patrons tried to leave; notably the first being a woman in a classy white full length dress with no back, the woman was immediately dragged by an invisible **** at high speeds to the center of the room, and began dancing, swivelling her hips in wide circles and running her hands through her hair and ruining her professionally done hairstyle.

Several others followed suit in their attempts to run, their dances all wildly varying in styles, and PJs were pretty sure not one of them could move as perfectly as they were. Some were performing a loving tango despite the two people not really knowing each other, one being a waitress and the other a rich socialite lady. Some were doing cheesy dances of the times, like the monkey or the twist, looking quite ridiculous.

Seeing this, people aren’t moving towards the doors any longer, even the waitstaff. Good, that means they can stay there for the rest of the party.

“I wish the waiters and waitresses can relax at the party, with the guests and hosts serving them for the duration of the party.”

PJs felt a kind of sympathy for what would’ve probably been his colleagues, so he might as well give them a break. And just like that, the waitstaff were now seated at the tables and wondering how they got there. Menus sprung forth in their hands, little notes displaying services they can order, and telling them to flag down a rich person to be served.

It took a while for any of them to figure out what they were supposed to do with this, but it was a scrawny-looking guy that went first, asking the raven-haired fashion model in the slinky black dress that he’d been mocked by earlier for the “Under the Table Deal”.

At first, the lady looked disgusted, until she felt her body flop onto all fours, much to her surprise, and scuttle under the table, covered by the cloth as she scooted the guy’s chair around to face her. The look of surprise turned to anger as she realized what she was about to do, since her hands made their way to unbuckle his pants and her tongue was licking her lips for her.

Needless to say, the guy was enjoying the blowjob this uppity woman was giving him, slow and like a pro. Other waitstaff seeing this quickly caught on with the program and followed suit, ordering away and having a grand old time.

One waitress was having a fun time with using a redheaded woman that knocked a tray out of her hands earlier as a footstool, enjoying as she smacked her ass with the heel of her foot, and as ordered, was making her let out an occasional “Arf!” in response. Another waitress was enjoying the service of a pair of rich-looking “born into wealth” type jocks were **** to strip down to their underwear and lick her shoes clean. A waiter was getting a very energetic lapdance from a blonde beauty with big tits no doubt bought from “Daddy’s” paycheque, motorboating him as she grinds against his crotch.

It went on like this for a while, the few that were still left were trying their best to avoid the commotion by hiding behind the food table.

“Heh, well if you’re going to be over there, at least make yourself useful~ I wish that the remaining partygoers would start bussing the foodstuffs as sexy bikini girls.”

And just like that, ladies and gentleman alike behind the banquet table shot up like they were given a massive shock, their clothes exploding off their body, and in the gents’ case, their whole body erupted in confetti, revealing them to be only sexy bikini models underneath. Various pieces in all kinds of colors, thongs, g-strings, slings, one-pieces with cutouts, all were covering the hot curves of these new service providers. They even possessed nametags on whatever clothing they could get purchase upon.

Trays appeared in one hand, raised professionally, while the other was gripping a pair of tongs, getting a range of foods to place on their trays. Once they loaded up, they began shimmying and strutting over to the tables, ready to serve with grimaces on their faces and a sexy sway in their walk.

PJs nodded in approval. This party was fantastic! He felt overly giddy from all the fun stuff he arranged, laughing in delight. It may be the shenanigans putting him in the good mood, or it’s the huge well of positive vibes that was now pulsing through him from all the back to back wishes. PJs figures it may as well be both, so glad for the rock that’s stuck in his chest right now.

But just then, he remembered that it was for the mayor’s sake, as he saw the small window of the demons walking down the corridor, the captions informing him that they were heading to the party.

“Well, since the party is for her, after all, maybe it’s best to make sure she knows! I wish the banner would change to this sentence-”

–––

“-And do be sure to make the election plan get my good side. We may rig it, for sure, but I want my people to know how lucky they are to have a mayor as hot as moi~”

Kneesocks was busy scribbling all the notes Stiletto was directing, annoyed at how vain she realized she really is. It’s like she doesn’t even care about the job, just her ego, she thinks. She was not alone in thinking this, as Scanty pouted in annoyance that Stiletto didn’t even want to take any of the disguises she ordered for her, and instead wants to go “Au natural”. She worked hard finding some good looks, only for them to be thrown in her face and mocked. She was not going to like this woman.

Stiletto pushed open the double doors to the main hall, expecting to see a classy affaire for her enjoyment. But her face fell in disappointment as she witnessed the debauchery that surrounded her as she stepped in. The waitstaff getting serviced by the guests, sluts shimmying around to hand out food, the rich idiots she was about to exploit dancing like fools, and all set to a sexy tune like this was some kind of cabaret. The banner didn’t help either, welcoming her with the words, “Enjoy Your Stay, Mayor Stiletto McHotTits!”

Scanty and Kneesocks peering from either side of Stiletto also were not happy about this, their faces turning pale (or rather, more of a salmon pink) at the display before them. Scanty was the first to speak up, “M-m-m-m-Miss HotTits! This isn’t what it-!” Scanty slammed her hands over her mouth, realizing what she just called her new boss.

Kneesocks tried catching the ball with “W-what my sister meant to say is someone must have sabotaged the party!”

But Stiletto was too fuming to hear a word of what they were saying. She whipped around, eyes glaring darkly at the pair, heels clacking and cracking the marble floor. “You think this is funny?! McHotTits comes all this way, and this is the welcome McHotTits-!” She stops, her voice croaking at the shock of what she just said. Was her nerves really that flustered to make such a mistake? She took the moment to say, “McHotTits will be in her new room! In the meantime, fix this mess!”

Just as she was about to step out of the room, She instead wheeled around on her heel, and marched towards the dance floor. Much to her shock, she also began dancing. After all, she was about to leave the party. Her mandatory dance was in fact a fluid macarena, making sure to get a good display of her chest as she does so. She glares over at the Demon Sisters, seething in anger and yelling, “Don’t just stand there, do something!”

But they never got the chance to, as the table besides them had a lone waiter wave the menu in his hand over to the pair, saying, “Hey you two, how’s about you hop onto my table and put on an Exhibition Special, with a side of Glaze~”

Before any of the two could smack him out the nearest window of the tenth floor, they felt their bodies complying, hopping up onto the table, faces glowing red from embarrassment, as their bodies began swaying and rubbing against each other, slowly pulling away their uniforms sensually in their tagteam striptease, while the waiter that ordered them to perform for him was jacking himself off to their little show.

They tried to speak and demand this end now, but instead their voices only came out as saying variations of “Please, cum all over us, you sexy man!” Making them even more mortified as they begged him to jizz all over their slutty selves. They sincerely hope that he doesn't honor that request, or he's going to be gored and riddled with bullets. And that's before they throw him into a furnace still conscious.

It was a good thing it was a late in the day party, because the event was scheduled to end at midnight, and you can bet that Stiletto (now Stiletto McHotTits) that was currently shaking her boobs for her newly assigned dance partner, and the other Demon Girls that were now down to their skivvies, were going to need a new set of staff by the time the spell on them ends.

–––

Meanwhile at the local church, Stocking just collapsed through the doorways to the main hall, legs aching with exhaustion at the awkward walk she was **** to do the whole way there, but at least the moment she does she loses a few pounds. As in, the body shape was back to normal though still in “costume”.

“Hah…Hah…Hah…Legs..Burning…Embarrassment…Immense…Fuck whatever happened to me…!”

While she was complaining on the floor, Panty looked over at her fallen sister, but only briefly before returning to glaring at her reflection, trying hard to pull out this stupid firetruck-red dildo that was still going to town with her face. She got changed to her standard casual slutty red dress, but the stupid phallus refused to budge, and trying to remove it proved fruitless as it seemed her arms were the strength of paper when trying to manipulate it. It’s like the more she tried to fight it, the more “active” it got.

Thinking, Panty slapped her forehead and realized what she could do. With a deep breath through her nose, and waiting on a good moment, she bit down on the offending rubber.

That seemed to have did it, as it plumbed out of her mouth, making her gasp from finally being able to use her mouth again, as the bite-marked sextoy popped out of existence like a balloon with a puppy dog-esque whine.

“Gah! Finally! That fucking ghost. If I find that fuckface of a street magician, I’m gonna shoot her so hard she goes to Super Heaven!”

Stocking was still gasping as she crawled her way passed the pews towards the rooms in the back, hoping to go change and maybe get an emergency snack. “No such…Thing…” She petered out between pants.

Panty responded with a middle finger in her direction as she continued glaring out the window, out at the city this time, “That’s how fucked up they’re gonna be, that they have to make one to throw their sorry ass in there!”

As she turned around, she saw that a large individual had made their way to the podium at the front. A scowling man with a sizeable afro. “Angels!” Garterbelt, the black priest that ran the church, bellowed.

Panty groaned at this. No doubt he’s going to chew them out for a while.

“You still didn’t get the ghost you were out to purify! Why are you back now?”

Panty huffed, slamming down against a pew as she took a seat. “It’s no big deal. Some other ghost started changing my clothes and manipulating me or some crap like that. We were chasing the stupid ghost that we were after until they pulled a disappearing act. Some ‘Waiter’, he was too slippery.”

Garterbelt cocked an eyebrow. “Waiter?”

Panty glanced at him, thinking he might be off his rocker as she took out the scrap of paper that held their clue to the required ghost to hunt, “Yeah, Waiter. Like the message s-”

But Panty was the one that was shut up by the evidence. Instead of the clear English “Waiter”, instead in its place was “Wisher.” Did she just read it wrong or something? Can’t be, even Garterbelt said Waiter when he extracted the message from the glorified mailbox that is Chuck.

“Are you sure about that? I’m pretty sure I said Wisher.”

But Panty quickly retorted, “Wait, that’s bullshit! If you said Wisher, then why did you suggest that we go to various fancy restaurants to start our search?”

“Well it’s because…!” But Garterbelt paused. He couldn’t answer, because even he admits that he said to check there, but there’s no real correlation. “I…Do not know.”

He rubbed his chin in thought, heading to the back of the church to his room, saying, “There might be something suspicious at-play here. For now, if you aren’t going to look for the ghost, then at the very least keep an eye on the place for anything that might seem suspicious, as this one evaded my notice, but not for you, so you’re on lookout!”

Panty only clicked her tongue as she gave the middle finger to his back. Though despite the uppity nature she had just displayed, she was indeed pondering what the fuck was going on here. And she suspects it may have something to do with that ghost on the message.