Tails From Demonicon 01

Author's note

This chapter takes a while to get to any sexytimes, but is laying the groundwork for more entries in a series of vignettes that can happen during such an event as a convention. If there are other entries, they might add some background, but this first story is doing the expositional heavy lifting.

Inspirations were many, including the Geek Pride 2019 story A Cosplayer's Luck by MisterWildCard, an interest in costumed stories here, DragonCon being right around the corner when I started writing the piece, and finally the most important impetus: StillStunned instigating the Pandemonium challenge for fellow writers.

All characters are 18 or older. Any resemblance to real people (with one glaring exception) is purely coincidental.

Special thanks to my friends Irene and Evan for help with research, and being a second set of ears, respectively.

Pronunciation: Bastafor (BAS-ta-fore) or /'bæstəfɔ:/

Rechikin (WRETCH-ih-kin) or /'rɛtʃɨkɪn/

Thursday

"Bastafor," rumbled the demon in front of the registration desk, causing the desk, chair, and everything nearby to vibrate in sympathy.

Jeri shuddered in pleasure at the sensation, then looked up . . . and up, and gulped. Bastafor's costume was amazing-eight feet tall, dull red skin, chiseled physique, a mane of shaggy black hair, leathery wings folded behind his body, dark horns curving to tips above his head, a prehensile tail, and his only clothing was a loincloth and belt, fastened with what looked like a sheep's skull. She silently handed him his badge. His claws clicked on it as he took it from her and held it up, looking momentarily confused. He sniffed it once, then took two lanyards, fastened them together around his neck just barely, hung the badge on them, turned around ponderously and strode off through the crowds.

"Twenty more minutes," she thought to herself. Jeri had gotten a discount on her registration for DemoniCon by volunteering at the registration booth. The costumes here were so amazing she was having second thoughts about entering the costume contest, but she hadn't spent this much money on building a costume, flying to Chicago, registering and volunteering for the convention, and getting a room to chicken out now.

When the next shift relieved her, Jeri bolted from the booth, dragging a heavy canvas bag with her. While people-watching from the registration booths was good, she missed some of the costumes, and it was half an hour until the panel on costume wings started! Moving through the convention center, there were so many characters she recognized, and the requisite people in civilian clothes or their ren-faire outfits. Not that she was one to judge . . . her own outfit was pretty low key. Dark jeans, a mottled purple shirt, a leather jacket, belt, and a distinctive necklace with four charms on it. Some fans would know who she was, but her hair wasn't really curly enough. It was fine for working registration and comfortable enough compared to some of her other costumes for the weekend.

It was early in the con, but she'd heard most of the celebrities were already working with the early crowds. Much as she wanted to wait for a shorter line, one of the guests she was most looking forward to meeting was only going to be here for two days, so she had to make sure to get there as early as she could.

Jeri was nervous. She'd had a crush on one of this man's characters since she had first come across the work in her early teens, even if the series had come out shortly before she was born. Her aunt had been obsessed with the series, writing fanfic, owning the entire series on VHS tapes she'd recorded herself. Jeri had stumbled onto the tapes one day and was smitten from the get-go. Gargoyles had been an amazing show, and she was still irked that it only ran for three seasons, never getting the spin-off series it could have spawned, or more time for the romance at the heart of it to develop further. Truth be told, it had probably started her fascination with demons in the first place, and now, just over half of her life later, she was about to meet the man behind the voice of that crush. No stress or anything.

She was so focused on trying to not stress, the other fans' voices around her barely penetrated her daze.

"He's been in everything, it seems: movies, animation, TV, ads, video games! He never stops working," said one.

"I was amazed he does his own singing. Why has he not done more?" asked another.

Jeri stared at her hands, willing them to not betray her nerves. Fuck, would she even be able to say anything to him? He was tall, with broad shoulders that filled out his button-down khaki shirt with a standing collar. It was a wonderful contrast to his dark umber skin, graying-well, mostly grayed-hair and beard, with a ready grin and a stack of photos on the bar table next to him. She could see his lips moving, and hear an occasional laugh, but unfortunately the din of the surrounding crowd drowned out his voice.

It was tough to focus and keep her thoughts pure. "He is an actor, he

isn't

the character," she repeated to herself, with eyes closed. All too soon, a polite cough from behind her prompted her to open her eyes and move forward in the line. The attending staff ushered her forward, and she found herself face to face with Keith David himself.

"Hello there," his resonant baritone voice rolled over Jeri, and she tried to hide her trembling.

"Hi," she chirped, still almost vibrating from nerves.

"So you're here for a photo and autograph?" His eyes twinkled.

"Um . . . Yes." She drew a shaky breath. "My name's Jeri, and I have loved your work for as long as I've known about you. Thank you for all that you do, and for sharing your talents with the world. I—

we

—love you for it."

"That's very sweet of you," he said politely as he ushered her in front of the cameras. "May I touch your shoulders?" He asked as they posed in front of a convention branded background.

"Oh yes, that'd be fine," she gushed. "Keep it in your pants," she thought to herself.

His arm draped loosely around her shoulders as she smiled for the camera. There were a quick handful of clicks and he dropped his arm immediately without touching her further. She exhaled again, not realizing she'd stopped in the first place.

"Do you ever think there'd be a continuation of Gargoyles?"

He chuckled again. "They don't come to me for those sorts of decisions. I would leap at the chance, but I've come to terms with the fact that that ship has sailed. I content myself with doing my best with whatever role comes next."

She reveled in his voice. Could you make clothing out of a voice? She'd love a blanket that felt like his voice . . . .

"Yes, you always do your best," she said dreamily.

He gave her an odd look: "Are you feeling okay; you look a bit flushed . . . ."

Her pale skin turned even redder and she shook her head emphatically. "No, I'm good, I'm good. I should let you talk to the next people," she said as she turned away.

"What about that autograph though?"

She stopped in her tracks, mortified, and nodded in silence before turning and walking back to the small table with photographs.

She looked up at him through a tangle of hair as he uncapped a sharpie.

"That's 'Jeri' with an 'i?'" He rumbled, while glancing at her name badge.

She nodded mutely. Fuck, she needed to get out of here before someone smelled her arousal.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Jeri, take care." He offered a hand to her and she shook it quickly, grabbed her photo and moved on to the next line, trying yet again to calm herself before she met another one of her idols.

It wasn't the longest line by any means, but as she was one of the featured guests, plenty of fans had shown up for the chance to meet and greet one of their heroes.

Jeri was fourth in line now, and there had been plenty of chatter about their favorite characters in the various novels. She had enjoyed hearing other fan opinions about Abby and Daniel, the brother and sister duo at the center of the Succubus Tails series.

"I love how they're both bi: it's so rare to see bi guys especially, even in the romance genre," the guy two places ahead was saying.

"Yes. And she never treats it in a tawdry way." There was tittering throughout the line at that. "Well, you know what I mean, not in a creepy or fetishy way," the lady immediately in front of her corrected.

Jeri smiled slyly. "I heard that she put hints in the first few and waited until she had assurances of sequels and plenty of demand from readers to branch into something less straight.

"Oh, that's pretty smart," the guy said. "My favorite had to be Petrus though: handsome, bi, romancing both of the siblings at the same time . . . ."

The lady in front of her turned to Jeri. "What about you: who's your favorite?"

"Oh, um, Tartini."

The woman smiled knowingly and moved her hands encouragingly.

"Uh . . . I have a thing for deep voices, so it makes sense. Doesn't hurt that he was mostly super sweet . . . aside from draining energy and such."

"It's part of their nature," the woman said wistfully. "I sort of imagine it's like getting choked, though I have to imagine that too."

Jeri blushed deeply. "Yeah . . . I think I heard that too somewhere."

The man turned and walked up to the author, leaving Jeri and the woman chatting away. Jeri hefted her bag to the other shoulder to give herself some relief.

Fifteen minutes later, it was Jeri's turn.

The author at the end of the line had a little more gray in her hair than the picture on the back of all of the paperbacks that were currently crammed into the bag Jeri had been carrying around all day. Kitty was plump, with curves everywhere, and a black dress that enhanced all of them to their best effect. The dress had a sequined choker joined to the rest of the dress with five ribbons in the shape of a pentagram which framed her decolletage. The effect might not have been tasteful for an employee at a stuffy office, but for a woman who'd single-handedly made a small fortune by writing demonic romance novels, it was positively understated. Her black, curly hair was cut slightly below her shoulders and full of volume, streaked here and there with threads of purple tinsel amidst the gray. It contrasted wonderfully with her pale sienna skin tone. The effect was all brought together in her purple-black lipstick.

"Hello," she said cheerfully.

"Hi," Jeri replied quietly. "You look remarkably like your photos on your books, though they don't do you justice at all."

"Thank you for saying so," Kitty said with a small smile.

Looking at the prices for autographs on the table, Jeri swallowed. "I brought some of my own things to get signed, if you wouldn't mind?"

As Jeri continued pulling out her books, Kitty couldn't help but stifle a giggle. "Were these second-hand, or did you wear all of these out on your own, dear?"

Jeri blushed profusely. "I um . . . that is . . . some of them were used . . .?"

"Very thrifty of you," Kitty remarked. "That is quite the collection you have; I'm flattered. Are you looking to get all of them signed?" she asked with a pen hovering at the ready.

"I don't know . . . it's probably too expensive for me to do them all. How about . . . this one, and this one?" She plucked two out of the heaped books on the table.

Kitty eyed them thoughtfully. "Oh, you're a fan of Tartini! Well, you certainly have good taste."

Jeri shrugged nervously. "I don't want to say I have a thing for guys with amazing voices, but my friends all say I do. And those are the original ones I bought. I tried to treat them well, even if they are paperbacks."

Kitty laughed. "The last time I had anything in hardback was my high school yearbook. I can tell you treat all of them well; they all look very taken care of and

well-loved

." The author savored the last two words especially, causing Jeri more than a little unease at how much she enjoyed the implications.

"And how should I sign these?"

"'Well, my name's Jeri . . . ."

The author nodded and swiftly signed one book and then the other as Jeri reached for her cash. "I don't see a price for a selfie, is there a chance I could get one?"

"Of course dear! Those are free." Kitty stood up and leaned over the table, showing off even more cleavage while Jeri fumbled with her phone. She pulled it up and put up two fingers in a vee shape, smiling broadly. Kitty smiled as well, then after the first photo, said "Okay, one more," and kissed Jeri's cheek as the photo snapped.

"Have a lovely convention, dear," Kitty purred as Jeri stumbled away, shocked.

Friday

Security guards stood near a barricade as a small crowd stood with large yellow and black signs. Short messages denounced sin in various forms. They weren't quiet either, yelling loudly over the street noise and traffic

"Repent! Remove those costumes and renounce your sin!" One succubus wearing barely any clothing to begin with pulled at her bikini top's shoulder. "You want me to remove this costume now, big boy?"

The man flushed and started gabbling. "Bah . . . uh . . . not now! I didn't say 'revel in it,' I said 'renounce your sin!'"

The succubus leaned closer to the barrier, speaking low: "Oh, that's nowhere near as fun as reveling in it though; you should try it sometime." She blew a kiss at the flustered protester and skipped away, enjoying teasing the man who was now frustrated in more than one way.

Jeri shook her head and moved on to the convention center, the familiar tug of her badge and lanyard reminding her that she would be allowed in the center and away from the haranguing protesters.

She could hope that today's outfit wouldn't arouse the protester's ire, but she had a feeling these folks were such killjoys that they wouldn't appreciate any media that wasn't explicitly Christian.

Fortunately the temperature was mild enough that she wasn't cold. Her pink harem pants might not be very thick, and the red vest might not cover much, but the room where today's big panel was would be absolutely packed, and that many people would probably cancel out the usually frigid air conditioning; that was the hope anyway.

Jeri meandered through the crowd, looking at all the various costumes, trying her best not to compare hers to theirs, though always on the lookout for interesting techniques or anything she could learn from.

At one point, she noticed a coterie of characters from Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss. Recognition dawned on her as she saw familiar faces and a costume she'd already seen on social media. She hurried through the crowd and gingerly hugged her friend. "Annabel!"

"Jeri? Oh my gosh hon! It's been what, a whole year since I saw you in person last?" Annabel pulled Jeri into a tighter hug. "Don't worry, this costume can take it," she muttered in Jeri's ear.

Jeri pulled back to look her friend in her one visible eye; the other was covered with a red X and some sort of gray mesh that was the same color as the rest of her makeup. "Thank you for posting the sneak peeks; I don't know that I'd have recognized you otherwise. And next time, maybe invite me to be part of a group costume?" She mock pouted.

"If you'd make a costume, you're more than welcome to join," Annabel teased.

"I didn't have time!"Jeri whined. "I was too busy working on the piece for the costume contest.

Sadie smiled at her and waved. "Nice wig," Jeri said. Sadie's eyes twinkled and she shook the gray tresses that were shaved on her right side.

"Thanks. I used the hair I took off the side for the tail when I play Loona in hellhound form."

"Hey Jeri," a large pink pig with tiny horns and a small, curly devil tail waved at her.

"Oh my god, Greg: is that you?" she said, gasping from laughter.

"Yeah . . . the series isn't great for folks with a larger figure, so I figured I'd lean into it, you know . . . be a

giant

demon pig. Tomorrow I'll be the sword devil, so it all balances out."

A moment later, they were joined by another friend. He walked up to Annabel and stood, patiently waiting. "I know we're running early, but we should get to the room soon if we want a decent seat. Oh, hi Jeri! Didn't realize who it was.

"Do genies count as demons?" he asked as he looked her up and down.

"Nice to see you too Michael," Jeri said with a roll of her eyes and offered him a hug as well. He accepted, though Jeri was mindful of the wings on the outfit. "Jeez, you didn't need to add feathers to the wings and tail!"

Michael grinned, the fake mutton chops on his face exaggerating the effect. "Some people can't leave well enough alone. She would

not

stop pestering me until I did something with more texture than construction paper, so I made her help with this." He glanced meaningfully at Annabel.

"It does look better though, mon coeur, admit it." Annabel said with a smug smile.

"Fine," Michael acknowledged. "No one else I'd rather spend countless hours placing feathers with anyway," He said as he leaned over and kissed Annabel's white wig.

"Okay, you're all heading to the same panel?" Jeri asked.

All four friends vehemently agreed.

Jeri looked around her. She and her friends had gotten to the panel early, but she was still amazed at how full it was. Though, in all fairness, a significant proportion of the space was taken up by giant wings and even larger costumes like Bastafor's. "Oh, he was here too!" she thought to herself. At least the people who hadn't slimmed down their costumes had seen fit to stand in the back.

The speakers suddenly came to life with the crackle of fabric rubbing against a microphone and breathing amplified tenfold. "Hell-o and welcome to Demonicon's panel: Why are Demons so hot?" The emcee holding the microphone was also shown on large screens, and she winked obviously at the camera at the end of the panel name. In a quieter voice she said "It's because they're from hell! That's it, that's the panel, you can all go home now," she continued quickly with a smile. There were peals of laughter from all around the hall and just as many boos.

"I kid, I kid; Welcome to the panel on 'why are demons so hot?' I'm your emcee, Marilyn Connors, and here are your panelists: noted writer of the Succubus tails series, Kitty Clark. Next is Frances Jernigan, occultist, writer, demonologist, and one of the organizers of this convention. After him is Emily Latimer, author. And last, but not least, is voice actor Keith David known for his work as Dr. Facilier in Disney's The Princess and the Frog, Goliath in Disney's Gargoyles, Spawn from the eponymous series, and now Husk in Vivienne Medrano's Hazbin Hotel!" The crowd had been sporadically clapping at each person mentioned, but burst out loud with applause and cheers at the end of the voice actor's list of credits.

Jeri shot a pointed look at Michael, who stuck his tongue out at her. His costume was a more realistic version of Husk.

Marilyn continued. "To start us off, we'll have Frances give us a quick rundown of what demons are, then continue down the line until we find out why the devilishly handsome fellow at the end there is so popular as a demon."

Keith David smiled and leaned in. "It's the voice, Marilyn." Laughs again, and Marilyn turned to Frances.

"Welcome Frances," he nodded in acknowledgement. "Can you, very briefly, explain what demons are?" Marilyn switched off her microphone.

He was a nerd, or perhaps a dweeb. His hairline gave the impression of an army fleeing a larger force, in this case, perhaps his bushy eyebrows. Thick, square-ish glasses perched atop a beakish nose, and his first chin would benefit from a beard. He wore suspenders over his button-down shirt, and a pocket protector was visible as well. His voice was higher than expected, and more confident as well.