For a moment, the radio had been playing some random soft rock sounds that had become less and less welcome to the space as the night wore on. There was nothing wrong with any of the musical choices made by the local DJ. Rather, it was that the music felt so generic, mundane, or perhaps even too terrestrial, reminding the patrons of the real world beyond the door.
The regulars that showed up around this time preferred to leave behind the stress and reality of that life. Now was a time to take relaxed sips, enjoy an atmosphere that one could not at most homes inside this bustling metropolis. Here in this quiet bar, there was only the bartender, the bar, the drink, and the company. Nothing else.
As such, with the changing of the hour, so too would the bartender change the radio station. Commonly, the change would be to 108.7 FM, The local station for smooth and relaxed jazz and slow tempo pop.
Tonight something changed.
Despite the practiced movement of a thousand nights before, the Bartender's motion had somehow flicked the FM to something he had not seen before on his stereo: TFM. Where 108.7 should have been instead was the strange and amusing 666.3. Despite the mistake, the sound that flowed through the speakers was the exact vibe that his clientele preferred to flow in his bar at this hour.
"Salutations, creatures of the night. You are listening to SUC TFM Radio. The red light glows upon you and there are cocktails for all. I am your DJ XTC, here to slide into your dms, tempt you to lewd depravities, and take you by the horn, tail, or just hook my fingers into your juicy pussies and guide you to the lascivious lifestyle of the succubus. And no, my dears. If you are hearing my sultry tones and honeyed words, it is already too late. So give in, spread those nectar dripping petals wide, and offer yourself to the goddess of the night."
The warm tones floated through the air of the dimly lit bar. The era might have left behind the haze of cigarette smoke, there was still a relaxed atmosphere lending the well appointed space a liminal texture.
The DJ speaking over the radio said things that had to have been against some sort of code of conduct of one kind or another, but the smooth way her voice slipped in and moved around the few bodies in the establishment left everyone with the impression that there was nothing wrong with the idea of speaking so candidly about sex.
Right after, the bar was filled with the sort of music that was the normal fair for the night. Only, there was a strange texture to each track. Something like the touch of a woman dragging a finger lightly over each of their ears. Man, woman, or other, found themselves under the spell of the temptress to one extent or another.
None would leave unchanged tonight.
Among all this, Derek Flint nursed his whisky. The week had been a nightmare. Way too much work to do, so little time. He had even stayed over the last couple of nights, something not terribly common in America thanks to labor laws. Laws that had been made lax in the recent political climate, but still. This was more the realm of say a black company in Tokyo then an office job here on the West Coast.
But it was done. There would still be a stack when he got back on Monday, but today, he could leave it all at the door and just be human for a few hours before heading home and sleeping the weekend away.
He looked at the menu again. There were a few items he had always wanted to try, one in particular had caught his eye. It called to him.
Shaking his head, he let go of the temptation. Sure, he knew logically that there was no such thing as 'girly drinks'. Trouble was, his college years left its mark. Anything that looked fun, tasty, or even 'girly' was just not something he could bring himself to order.
"Why not though?" A warm sultry tone warmed his ear. Someone, feminine, was standing right behind him, her breath hot on his skin. "After all, this is a sacred place, where the world of stress and worry is left beyond. The bartender would never judge you."
Wait, that voice! It suddenly occurred to Derek that the voice speaking to him was the exact same on the radio. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he had to at least see her. He turned in his seat.
No one.
There were a handful of people around in various booths and tables, but no woman behind him. Not even a whisper of wind at her hiding.
Maybe the job had gotten to him more than he realized?
Turning back to his whiskey, instead he found a tall glass, within were pink and red swirls rising up to the top. Whipped cream capped the drink with a single strawberry on the rim and a straw.
The drink he had been coveting. A Kahlúa Strawberry Shake.
The voice returned. The tempting ambience made the drink look all the more enticing. "Go on, Demona dear. Take a sip. You more than earned it."
Derek hesitated. It was a pretty girly drink, he supposed.
"Drinks aren’t girly or manly. They are just drinks for different tastes. But even if it was, what is the issue with that for a woman like you?" The temptress cooed in his ear.
The weary office worker shrugged and leaned his mouth down to the cocktail, his lips pursing around the straw. Suddenly he realized what the woman had said. That wasn't his name, and he wasn't a-
It was too late as the flavor hit her tongue. The warmth of the alcohol content hid among the smooth chill of the shake. The contradictory temperatures slid down her throat, into her chest, and spread out to the rest of her body.
"See, so good, isn't it?"
Derek moaned her appreciation of her drink. The rough tone of her voice had been smoothed with a dash of sweet.
"And it's not over yet," the voice promised. "Take your time, enjoy the flavors and how it feels in your body."
Another sip of the sweet drink and Derek felt her hair tickle her neck. Her face and throat felt funny. Not bad, just strange. What she didn’t notice was how her neck became slender, the Adam's apple smoothing away. The light stubble along her chin faded and the shape of her face shifted and softened, turning much more feminine with each taste of the tempting cocktail.
“Mmmm, there you go. You are already being so much more honest with yourself, Demona.”
There was that name again. It sounded nice. Nicer than ‘Derek’ at least. She took another sip. This time the cool heat tingled in her nipples. The rough texture of her dress shirt rubbing lightly against them, causing her to blush at how sensitive they were becoming. They swelled and stuck out further and larger with the next sip. She moaned at the sensation of a finger circling around them, teasing them, giving each nipple a soft tug. Somehow she knew her areola were puffing out, growing larger and wider with each teasing touch of the strange voice. Demona looked down and saw the hands groping at her small breasts. She rubbed her thighs together, an unsightly bulge forming in her pants.
“Oh no. You don’t like having a dick between your legs? Or maybe you prefer one on your partner? Maybe what you really want is,” the voice paused. One hand let go of the bug bite of a tit and slipped down into Demona’s pants, rubbing over her throbbing erection. Even as more strawberry and alcohol made its way down her throat, Demona could feel the hand press down her cock, folding it and tucking it between her legs. She could feel the middle and ring fingers rubbing against the top of that folded cock. Rubbing in harder and harder, as if trying to press inwards.
“The more you want something, the more it will happen, Demona. Give in to your desires.”
Demona spread her legs, gripping the bar and biting back a gasp as those two fingers pressed through what she thought had been her folded back phallus, but instead felt them slip between the wet folds of her forming labia. Digits invaded her body, pushing deeper. Then pulling out. A finger teased an oddly sensitive bit where the base of her cock had been before dipping again. One knuckle then two deep. She felt the finger tips curl and press against a sensitive space inside her.
She bucked her hips as the voice’s fingers found her g-spot. She whimpered, trying to keep herself from drawing attention or bothering the other patrons.
“So honest. So horny.” The voice’s honeyed tone sank into Demona’s mind. “So… hungry.” The woman continued to tease and thrust her fingers into Demona’s newly minted pussy while she spoke. “But is it enough? No. You want more. But how should I give it to you? Are you even ready to go further?” She pulled out her fingers, wet with pussy juices, and held them up to Demona’s lips.
She didn’t need any further prompting. Demona opened her mouth, licking the finger tips before pulling them in and suckling at her flavor.
“I wonder. How would you like to proceed? I could just send you home. You’ll wake up tomorrow morning, thinking this was all a dream. But then you’ll notice things. You’ll feel things. And when my radio station is tuned in again, it will all come crashing back. Would you bend over like a bitch in heat? Maybe you will seek out the boss and try to get a promotion on your knees.” There was a viciously amused turn to the voice as she added a suggestion, “Or maybe you want to turn your office into your own den of sin, taking your rightful place as the dominant demon of the business? Maybe even turn its nature to something other than the tedium it’s been?”
“There is, of course, the option that you stay here. I like this space. I think I might make it into a brothel instead of just a bar. Hell, your boss is just in the booth behind you. A little change and you could ride his cock and make him pay you for the experience.”
Demona looked over her shoulder. Despite hands having been growing her small titties and thrusting into her wet snatch, there was no one right behind her still. But what she did see was her boss, Leon Stone. To be fair, he wasn’t all that bad a looker. He was just a bit of a stick in the mud and a cheepskate. Fucking him silly and taking him for every dime he had could be fun.
“Or, you can do one better…. and devour his male essence. Turn him into a lesser succubus as you make this your brothel. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Demona?”
She licked her lips and then hesitated. She was considering fucking her boss. Not just that, but forcing her to… oh god, she was already thinking of Leona as a woman… And it wasn’t stopping. If she gave into the impulse, it would be hard not to just go all the way and enthrall the bitch as her own.
But could she? The idea of making Leona at least pay was fun on its own. But she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t just pass that point and take it all. She WANTED it all.
Should she resist the temptation? She felt like she could if she wanted to.
“Of course, you can, Demona. I prefer those that fall into my clutches to fall in their own time on their own terms. It's so much more fun that way, don’t you think?” Demona felt a kiss on the other side of her neck from where she was looking. “But in any case, the drink has already done some of the work. If you want to become more of a woman or maybe even a succubus, you are going to have to have sex with someone. And Leona seems like such a perfect place to start, doesn’t she?”
Demona had to make a decision and fast…
Thu Jul 31 21:21:07 2025