I will start this story by debunking a few false facts about God. These are by no means important to the story, as the story itself relates to the fortunes, adventures and perils of a young woman turned demonically possessed hermaphrodite. But God played a role in it all and thus some clarity would be nice.
First, God abhors fate. God is very barely capable of negative feelings, yet for Fate he/she had them all, and cut down the Fateweaver Tree with the flaming sword of Uriel the moment it sprouted. God likes chaos, for in chaos Good is forged to fight Evil and Evil is forged to temper Good.
Second, God enjoys playing dice and does it on Sundays, as it is the day most predisposed to great vices.
Thirdly, God never had anything against Lucifer. The downtrodden Luminous Daughter was as precious as any other godly creation; her only sin was that she was interesting. Her story is longer and more complicated than commonly told; she was the first to ascend to a Thinkstate, she was the first to copy a human's form (as opposed to a construct of celestial flames and ever-watchful eyes) and she was the first to ask questions. God liked it, and sent her down from Heaven to sate her curiosity. It all ended somehow badly.
Everything else is myth or history. But Lucifer played a role, and so did God, and there was no plan to any of it.
None of this correlates, for now, with our main character. Her life was a fairly safe and predictable one; it was comfortable, had few major tragedies beyond the loss of a father, was not marked by great ambition or anything of the sorts. What, then, makes Mary Baker an interesting character, beyond the bizarre and carnal future that is soon to occur? Let me tell you about Mary Baker.
Mary Baker is twenty four, the ripest of ages. Her most defining trait is her height. She is extremely tall, at 6'1; she thus possesses the gentle easy-going nature that tall people often do while somehow avoiding the crippling self-doubt many tall women often have. Her looks, if described, would be "elegant". Her breasts are modest, her hips, while healthy, are dwarfed by the length of her legs; her face is calm and sharp, with deeply set eyes, a cut, defined brow and a striking jawline. Her hair was long, well-maintained and jet-black.
The impression she left among people she knew (who were mostly coworkers, as she mostly lacked in proper friends) was of an aloof yet kind woman who mostly kept to herself. Many of you know people like that; some of you know that this impression is often false, and people who may seem proper have a secret, a final stroke to their life that changes the entire picture.
The secret to Mary Baker was, to put it bluntly, that she was horny.
Horny is a meek word for the state Mary Baker maintained since she discovered masturbation at the appropriate young age. Her libido was perpetual. Her fantasies were vivid, constant and varied. She had a masturbation routine that was followed daily lest she would become jittery. She didn't have any preferences beyond the absolute minimum. A woman, A man. Anything, anyone, as long as it was of age, human, willing, and at least somewhat attractive. Mary Baker was a sex-crazed harlot, in perpetual need, in a state of mind-hazing heat that didn't even have the decency to stop when she slept.
Yet Mary Baker was, in a cruel joke of the (non-existent) Fate, a virgin.
You see, while Mary had everything it takes to become a bicycle and be ecstatic about it, she had no idea how to actually do it. She understood the principle of getting laid. She knew that it involved relationships, dates, and then the Anointed Act. But she had no idea how to actually go about it. She spoke to men with the intent to Get It Going, but felt very overbearing and immediately stopped. Talking to women about it was outright embarrassing. She tried. Many times. With coworkers. With random people at bars. But she just couldn't do it.
The other way, then. What about other people? Mary looked good. She was an elegant beauty. She was tall. She had gorgeous legs. Surely, in the world of condoms and genital liberation, someone would do their best to tap that.
But no. They didn't. It drove Mary insane.
Her natural disposition, you see, was so reserved, so serious, that it almost supernaturally made her a fortress forever untaken. Men couldn't meet her gaze. Women, even those open to the fairer sex, felt like they shouldn't even try. It was not about the face or the body; Mary had them both. People just assumed that she was way too serious to ever lay, or any other excuse. She was so inoffensive and so seemingly unreachable, all at the same time, that in her whole life nobody really considered her a partner.
As she was furiously fingering herself under her work table, Mary let out a single, tiny tear.
Why was she this way?
All she ever wanted was dick. Or muff. Or, to put it romantically, the touch of another. And all she had was a pat by her mom here and there.
Little did she know, at that compromising evening moment, that her wish would be granted through a contract with the Darker Side. But we are running ahead of ourselves, because I would like to introduce you to Lilith, a Lesser Demon of the High Frost Cocytus, an omnibus, a bearer of sixty eight failed contracts, and the only daughter of Lucifer, the Luminous.
Lilith is not a strong demon. In Inferno, strength is acquired, not given, and Lilith has, in her long and often exciting existence, failed to gain much of it. She was a purely Carnal demon, connected to Passion through Lust and Desire; as an omnibus, her power has its roots in the connection of the Female and the Male in a single entity. Historically speaking, she didn't find much success. She was neither that or this. She paled in comparison to a proper, full-bodied succubi or incubi. She didn't have an iota of pure might. She was summoned by the meek for her tribute was low, and, sixty eight times, she has led them to an amusing ruin.
But she never faltered. She was the only child of Lucifer, the Luminous, the Greatest. So she persevered. She listened and roamed until someone would call her.
And, that evening, in a human city somewhere in a human country, Mary unknowingly called.
Lilith said her goodbyes. Her mother, the great ice-encased Archduchess of Inferno, has wished her good luck with open heart. Lilith still took it with a sour look. Sixty eight times Lucifer wished upon her daughter the same exact thing: luck. And it never came.
Luck works in mysterious ways. For every time she was called, Lilith was offered a roll of the proverbial six-sided dice. She was, since birth, since she was first called by a pauper woman living on the shore of Euphrates, predisposed to rolling ones. She rolled and kept rolling, and, in time, she learned to expect failure. The one on the face of the dice became her only companion.
Unknown to her, however, the six-faced lay different this time. The one did not appear. Instead, it showed a twenty.
...
Mary came. It was the third time. She drank a cup of water, wiped her hands, watched a video on the Internet and started anew. She was very tidy down there; cleanly shaved, slightly puffy on the sides and slightly meaty on the center. It was very pink at first; after the first hour, it was of a more brutal crimson. But Mary didn't stop.
She couldn't. It was somehow especially bad today. Maybe it was a client that looked hot and lingered in the mind, or a coworker who bit her lip. It didn't matter. Mary felt like a collapsing tower. She wanted it. She wanted it badly. In her mind, she called, and pleaded, and prayed.
And her call was answered.
Demons don't usually apply grandeur to their arrival in the Mortal Plane. Some come from the shadows, where they slither until their time comes. Some come from dreams, and seem natural through that connection. Lilith was weak, so she merely materialized in the sides of one's sight, in the weird place where the peripheral vision falters and the mind starts imagining things. Mary didn't give her much mind. She didn't quite notice her; the aroused consciousness doesn't really pay that much attention to its surroundings. Moreover, Mary was busy.
"I hear your call..." - something dreamlike murmured into Mary's ear.
"Yes... please..." - Mary answered, whispering, suppressing moans, furiously working her fingers. She felt a slight ping of depression; it would seem that her cursed vagina has finally driven her insane, but in the heat of the moment, she didn't quite care.
