"Welcome home, darling!"
"I am not your darling, demoness."
"Haven't you always dreamed about coming home and hearing someone say that?"
"I'll just drop my coat and my bag here and you'll pick them up later."
"Look here!"
Jon looks, cautiously. But she does have clothes on. At least she does have that skirt thing on. It's hard to say about her upper body, because her upper body isn't visible at the moment. She's kneeling on a chair, leaning over the table, her patented Demonic Extra Round butt toward him and kinda shading out much of the rest. There is a reason for this, however; it is the table where the computer stands, and she is evidently using it.
"Look what I found on the Internet!"
Jon circles her at a safe distance. He is not willing to risk that his hand might decide to try something. The Bible clearly states that limbs do have some measure of volition: 'If your hand tempts you to sin, cut it off and cast it away!' Since that is a rather drastic measure and he needs both his hands for touch-typing, it is safer to just stay out of reach. "Not porn, I hope."
"What? You think I would summon my own competitors? I am all the porn you ever need, baby, right here in one luscious package! Unwrap me, and I will fulfill all your wettest dreams! Remember, I can change into any shape you desire. Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, Elle MacPherson, Angelina Jolie, Britney Spears, Whitney Houston, Oprah Winfrey, Martha Stewart ..."
"You truly are evil!"
"Why, thank you! I try my best."
"I mean, Martha Stewart?!"
"Yeah, imagine her tossing her head, her carefully styled hair flowing ..."
"No, I mean having sex with Martha Stewart is like having sex with your mother!"
"Actually I can't emulate your mother without at least a few good pictures, but Martha Stewart is yours for the taking, thanks to the wonder that is the Internet."
"That's totally sick!"
"Oh yes, totally! Bwahahaa... Er, you mean that in a bad way?"
A glance at the screen shows that it is not exactly porn. "What is that thing?"
"A Demon-Girl T-shirt! I just ordered one."
"You just what?"
"Ordered a T-shirt. Demons don't sweat - unless you want me to, of course – but I should still have a bit more clothes, now that I stay here for a while. And it was really descriptive, don't you think?"
"Since when do you have money?"
"I don't. You left your card at home."
"I leave for one school day and you have combed the Web for famous women and started to shop online." "The Web is there to seduce you and take your money. Why not let me seduce you and take your money, then spend it on the Web?"
"Listen up, you don't buy stuff with my card without asking me, is that clear?"
"Or you'll spank me?"
"Banish more likely. It's a crime, and since I know that prisons can't hold you..."
"OK, OK! No reason to be so over the top about it. It was just a couple T-shirts. And a teddy bear."
"What would you want a bear for?"
"Not for me. To leave as a parting gift for you, when my job here is done."
She looks at him with big green eyes, and suddenly he feels ashamed of himself. She may be a demoness, but evidently there is more to her than meets the eye. (And there's a lot that meets the eye.)
"Well, just don't do it again, OK? Ask me if you need anything. And I take that card from now on."
"Oh, and I made you dinner!" Hedonia exclaims as he pockets the card.
"You did? You found out about kitchen equipment already?"
"Not really, but I saw the way you did it for breakfast. So I did the same thing. I did not find a stove, so I put it on that warm thing there."
Jon looks. There on the radiator perches precariously two bowls of breakfast cereal with milk. "How long have those been there?"
"Since just after you left. I did not know when you would be back."
"Young lady, this food is spoiled. We cannot eat it. Or at least I can't. Besides, we don't eat cereal for dinner."
"Sorry, I just tried to be nice." She looks at him with big, sorrowful eyes.
"It's OK. I'll get us some pizza."
"We could eat out."
"Look at yourself. You're wearing a T-shirt and a bed sheet. You can't go outside in that!"
"Then you simply have to buy me something."
Jon considers the idea carefully. Since he has decided on not banishing her right now, it makes sense that she needs clothes.
"I guess you need a skirt at the very least.. Don't expect anything fancy though. What size are you?"
"Size?"
"Yeah, what size clothes do you use?"
"I have no idea. I have never used clothes before."
"Well, what are your measures?"
"Drastic!"
"I mean, measurements. How many inches around you hips, waist, and chest."
"I guess you shall just have to study me very, very carefully to find out."
"I'll be damned if I do! If only I had measuring tape ... now, that's an idea!"
Jon searches his office supply box and returns with a roll of clear tape, pulling out a length. "Now wrap this around your hips where you are broadest, and cut it."
"Why don't you do that?"
"Because I'd have to touch your hips and stuff."
"And what harm would my hips do? Wiggle on you?"
"A Christian does not touch the underwear parts of the body."
"But I don't have any underwear!"
"If you think that's supposed to make me feel better, you are sorely mistaken."
Eventually, Jon is armed with two lengths of tape. It is still not too late in the day, so he takes the bus out to the mall, after instructing Hedonia to not attempt any more food making. Luckily the bus line between the city and the mall passes barely five minutes from his apartment. On arrival, he immediately starts looking for a women's clothes store. He immediately rejects the young and hip ones. Not only are they unlikely to have any decent clothes, the clothes would certainly be too small anyway. There is one that caters to the parent generation, but it is too pricey. Then there's the low price chain, and a really big one too. He looks around, kinda lost and forlorn among the many strange clothes. A female worker comes over.
"Can I help you or are you just looking?"
"I should have a skirt." He
blushes. "Er, it's not for me! I mean, it's for a ...
woman."
"You are in luck" smiles the shop
assistant. "We have lots of skirts for women. All of them, in
fact. Were you thinking of anything special?"
"Well, I brought these tapes."
"Tapes? Oh. That kind of tape."
"The long one is around her hips, and the short one is around her waist."
The shop assistant looks at the two tapes, then at him, then at the tapes.
"Is this for a real woman?"
"Er, uh, not literally ..." I can't possibly tell her I have a succubus at home! "That is, she is real enough, she's just not an ordinary woman."
"I'd say not."
"She is kinda ... not our race."
"OK. I can tell you at once, we don't really have anything that will fit. But you could buy a larger skirt and she could wear a belt, I guess."
"Sounds good."
The woman picks a few skirts. "This would have been easier if she was with you, but I suppose it's meant to be a gift?"
"Uhm, she is not ... representative right now. And yeah, it's a gift. From me to her."
She flashes him a compassionate smile. She thinks I have only the vaguest idea about the actual size. She thinks I have just made up the tapes by eye measure, and that I harbor wild illusions about the actual shape of the female body. He sighs. Wish it were true.
Eventually Jon leaves the shop with the cheapest skirt he could find, a flower patterned cotton, and a thin belt on perpetual sale. He stops by a pizza outlet and gets a take-away pizza. The demoness seems to have no dietary restrictions, so he buys his favorite.
The succubus is still intently studying the Internet when Jon comes home. "Skirt for you!" he announces. "And take this belt too."
"Why, thank you, darling!" She starts to loosen up the flannel sheet.
"Not here! Change in the bedroom. I'll wait here."
"Oh. OK. If you say so."
"I say so. Now begone, temptress."
He is heating the pizza in the microwave when Hedonia returns. "What do you think? Does my bum look big in this?" She turns slowly around.
It does, sort of. It looks very, very round in that. There must be some way they are made that is different from normal women, not that some of them also aren't ... Don't let her corrupt you. "It will have to do for now." If you start looking at the buttocks, the Enemy has already won.