The doorbell rang and he glanced at the clock. He didn't get many 'trick-or-treaters', and it seemed awfully late.
"Trick or treat," the couple said.
If they were teenagers, they wouldn't be for much longer. The guy was dressed as The Tic, and the girl wore the hottest pirate outfit Phil had ever seen.
"Great outfits," he laughed. "Here you go. Hold up, have a couple more."
"Thanks," they said, grinning at their loot.
Phil always bought the big theater sized candies, and he'd just given them enough to make a meal. The guy headed back for the street, but the girl paused and looked back over her shoulder.
She answered his questioning gaze by looking down at her own backside, and giving him a hell of a show when he looked down.
Phil clutched his chest in a mock heart attack and leaned heavily on the door jab for support as he smiled his appreciation for the show. The guy squeezed her delightful bottom with a leer and a wink before they jumped into the Beamer idling at the curb. They all waved at each other as the small car burned rubber and whipped into the Harris place down at the end of the block.
Grinning like an idiot, he kept the picture of her ass cheeks hanging out of the pirate shorts firmly in his mind as he closed the door. Every jiggle and wiggle was burned into his brain.
He reached blindly for the candy bowl as he headed back to his computer, and wound up knocking the whole thing over before retrieving a Snickers Bar.
The obnoxious screech of his computer connecting to the Internet had just ended when the doorbell rang again.
"Oh hell," he said, looking at the empty bowl. The half eaten Snickers in his left hand wasn't any help.
"Trick or treat," a girl's voice said as the doorbell rang again.
"Hold on," he said.
Nothing! There wasn't a cotton pickin' thing in the whole joint he could give to a trick-or-treater.
"Damn, I'm completely out," he said as he opened the door.
No one was there.
"Hello?"
Strange. No one could get out of sight that quickly, and there was nowhere to hide in his front yard. He stepped out and looked again. This was very strange indeed.
He turned off the light, locked the door, and went back to his computer.
"Get Huge"; "Add 3 To 4 Inches"; "Women Agree, Bigger is Better"
"Select All"; "Delete"; "Are You Sure?" Hell, yes!
Phil knew that he'd never win a John Holmes 'hung-alike' contest, but sixteen e-mails a day offering to solve this problem were starting to annoy him.
"Too bad they're all scams," he said, waiting for the 'Dump Trash' icon, "Having a big dick would be great."
"This is your lucky day."
Phil nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Who? What? How did you get in here?"
She was black. Not the chocolate shades we think of as black, but the totally alien black of a moonless, starless night. Her blackness made her seem like a hole in reality. She walked right up to him, and his eyes kept sliding off her blackness.
"Aren't you going to ask why you're so lucky?"
The strong smell of something like cinnamon was making him itch, especially around his groin. The smell was giving him an erection where her body couldn't. She was naked, standing inches in front of him, yet he couldn't see nipple or breast in the uniform blackness.
"Why am I so lucky? No, wait! What are you?"
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," she said, and leaned against him.
She was hot, too hot, feverishly hot. No human could survive running that kind of temperature.
"You're some kind of demon. Satan or something."
"Close enough," she said, and plastered her mouth on his.
He checked her tongue when it shot into his mouth. It was long, longer than normal, but not inhumanly long. It wasn't forked either.
"Thanks, I needed that," she said.
Phil blinked. She was white now. . Not the pink and cream shades we think of as white, but the totally alien white of paint. Her whiteness made her seem like a tear in reality.
"Could you stop doing that?" He blinked again, rubbed his eyes, and tried to see her breasts in the uniform whiteness.
"Better yet," she said, holding her arm across his, "I'll pick the color you love best."
Her arm rapidly darkened and shifted, until it matched his arm perfectly. He looked up and could see her in all her naked glory. His dick throbbed in his pants.
"You like?" she said, turning around.
Turning around was not a simple thing the way she did it. She undulated so his eyes were dragged down to her thighs, twisted and writhed until his eyes were locked on her turning hips, flexed her back so he slid up her spine and started falling into the soft hairs at the nape of her neck, then dipped and wiggled so her ass became the center of his universe.
By the time she was facing him, he was shell-shocked.
"Yes," he croaked on the third try. "This is my lucky day."
She pursed her lips in what looked like a pout, and sidled up next to him.
"I guess you know that I lied about that part, don't you?" she said.
"About being lucky?"
"Yeah," she said, patting his ass, "Basically, you're fucked."
"Is this one of those things where if I make the wrong choice I go to hell?"
"Nope. You're fucked no matter what you do."
"What if I just decide to walk out of here and let you play with yourself?"
They were brave words, considering that his prick was about to tear through his pants.
"Then I'd have to make myself so sexy that you couldn't," she said with a happy little gurgle.
He'd never had his ticker checked, but he was sure that if she didn't have her charms on full blast now, his heart wouldn't take it when she did.
"I don't suppose you mean intercourse when you say I'm fucked, do you?"
"Intercourse," she said, rolling her shoulders. "My, aren't we proper? Yeah, I'm going to intercourse your brains out."
"And then you'll take my soul?"
"I don't know much about souls. Let's just say I'll eat you. That should be close enough."
"You're not talking fellatio, are you?" His dick should have been wilting in fear, but it was eagerly throbbing.
"Fellatio?" she said.
She squatted down, had his dick out in a flash, and her burning hot mouth closed over it. She slurped and moaned for a moment, then stood back up again.
"You mean like that?" she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Yes." His voice was a hoarse rasp.
"Naw, that's not what I'm talking about," she said.
"I thought self preservation was stronger than the sex drive," Phil said. "How come I don't give a shit that you're going to kill me, and all I want to do is fuck you?"
"Life's a bitch, ain't it?" she said.
"If I have to die, I guess this is the way to go. Can you at least tell me what you are? I know it probably doesn't matter, but I'd really like to know."
"Have a seat, Phil," she said.
Phil sat.
"There's a broken gas line in your basement, and in about two hours an automatic switch is going to close. When that happens, the explosion will be on all the news channels for the next three days. Amazingly, only one person will die in that explosion. You.
Phil jumped up, but a strong smell of cinnamon made his knees buckle and he sat back down.
"So you're really here to save me," he said.
"Not exactly," she said. "According to the bid sheet, your two wishes are to have a bigger dick, and to poke a girl in the butt. Is that right?"
"How…? Sure, every guy wants that," he said.
"So I guess this is your lucky day after all," she said.
"Sort of like a last wish," he said.
"Eh, well, you could say that. Sort of."
"You never told me what you were," he said.
"Aren't you an observant little thing," she said, patting his cheek. "While you're in such an observational mood, why don't you observe this?"
She stuck her ass in his face and started swaying it from side to side. The smell of cinnamon disappeared, along with whatever other spells were holding him. She had become a normal woman, skillfully working her ass to entice him.
"No tricks unless you try to get away," she said. She was down on her hands and knees, looking back over her shoulder at him, and begging him to come closer with her ass.
The smell of cinnamon was so faint, he thought it was only a memory as he puckered his lips to kiss her ass hole.
"Oh, wait," she said. "Okay."
The smell was gone completely, but he still wanted to kiss her ass.
"Oh, that's nice. Put your tongue in. Oh yes. Wiggle it. Can you bite me? Oh I like that, yes, keep going."
The heat of her body was almost painful. Her sphincter tightened around his tongue in pulses, and it sounded as if a small group of women were telling him what to do and how to do it. She wasn't holding him with any of her tricks, he was free to do what he wanted, and right then he wanted to ram his dick up this delicious ass.
"Oh," she said in disappointment when he stopped. "Ah," she said when he pressed the head of his cock to the rosebud of her ass hole.
"What about the bigger dick part?" he asked.
She giggled and pressed back on him.
The muscles of her sphincter grabbed the head of his cock and squeezed it. He eased deeper, and she took it, squeezing him again. She was burning his cock, but it was a very exciting burn.
"You don't know how much I needed this," she said.
The tightness of her ass, the inhuman heat of her body, and the softness of the two globes of her ass were driving him mad.
"Lubricant," he said. "We should use some lubricant. I have some in my dresser."
"No, don't. I put some on before I came for you. Just fuck me. Fuck me like your life depended on it."
Shuddering, and thanking both heaven and hell, he rammed his entire length into her.
"Oww!" she squawked and pitched forward on her face.
He followed her down, lying on her back, and rammed into her again.
"Eh," she gasped, and her ass clamped around him like a vice.
"Am I hurting you, baby?" Phil said, forcing his cock past her clenched ass.
"A bit," she said. She was grunting every time he slammed into her.
