"I tell you, they are mind controlling our women, and if the council won't do something about it, I will!" Mrs. Edith Claridge's voice went up half an octave as she got more excited and angry. She was an unattractive woman. The weight she carried might have made her curvy or pleasingly plump, but the perpetual frown she wore on her face and the loose fitting grey and brown clothes she wore made her seem dumpy. If there had been a no-fun league, Mrs. Claridge gave the impression she would want to be president of it. Instead, she was chairwoman of People Resisting the Infernal Servants of Satan. It was in that capacity that she had signed up to address the council for the five minutes that was the right of any citizen who managed to navigate the internet form within two minutes of the time it became available after the previous meeting, two minutes being the average time it took for four people to sign up.
"Thank you, Mrs. Claridge," said the Honorable Lewis Thurston. "Your time is up."
"There is no such thing as a matter of too much time on a matter like this!" Mrs. Claridge stated. "Humanity itself is at stake!"
"Mrs. Claridge, please sit down. We are prepared to look into this matter as soon as you do so."
"Well. I should hope so!" With a harrumph, Mrs. Claridge sat down heavily.
"Dr. Canwell, I understand you've done some research into this?" Thurston liked to be prepared, and Claridge's speech had been predictable enough, so he had asked Abigail Canwell to be present at the meeting.
Abby stood up. "Yes, sir," she said.
The Honorable Lewis Thurston liked being called sir. "And what were your findings."
"The skin and secretions of the Enhanced," she started, using the nomenclature preferred by the beings more commonly called "demons," "do indeed contain a mild aphrodisiac."
"See! Mind control!" cried Mrs. Claridge, getting back to her feet.
"It would be a shame," The Honorable Thurston said, not meaning a word of it, "if we had to have you removed for being out of order, Mrs. Claridge."
Mrs. Claridge frowned even more than usual and sat back down.
"You were saying, Dr. Canwell?" Thurston prompted.
"A very mild aphrodisiac. Laboratory tests indicate that even the sort of dose one would get from prolonged physical contact - say, dancing for several minutes, even if very little, er, fabric was in the way -"
"As it usually is," interjected Mrs. Claridge. "Satan's servants are all perverts."
"You have been warned, Mrs. Claridge. Please resist the impulse to stand, speak, or otherwise demonstrate." Thurston made a face. "I promise to have a question for you later on, if you're still here." It might work, he thought, and he imagined he could make up something. "Dr. Canwell, please continue."
"Even that sort of dose produces an amount of arousal less than what most of our test subjects experience while watching a video designed to produce arousal."
"And you did tests with both women and men? Should I inquire about how you were able to do this experiment?"
"Yes, to the former, of course. And men reacted more strongly to the videos, as you might guess, but we used videos based on what we thought was likely to be arousing for each participant. As for the testing of the aphrodisiac, we obtained a sample, and chemically analyzed it until we could eliminate the possibility of all but a few chemicals being the active agent. We then tested the agents until we determined that only one had the arousing effect. This agent - which is present in humans, too, by the way, albeit in smaller quantities - was then synthesized and used in the test."
She paused while she remembered getting the samples. After an hour of dancing with a demon, she had managed to pull herself away. The little black dress she had worn had been analyzed, as well as samples from her skin. There was some guess work involved, in all of it, of course, and it was true that she'd erred on the side of understating the amount of aphrodisiac transmitted - all within reason, of course. And advertising for subjects to watch erotic movies as part of a study probably selected for those who were more likely to be aroused by pornography. But still, everything she said was defensible, and her study had every chance of being approved by a peer-reviewed journal.
She had gone back to the club. She could now speak from experience that giving a blowjob with an absorbent piece of cotton in her mouth to gather samples wasn't an enjoyable experience. The concentration of aphrodisiac in the semen of the demon's was many times higher than in their skin, but of course that happened afterward, and even so, it was hardly mind control in Abby's opinion. They just had a chemical boost for making their lovers feel very, very good. She looked forward to repeating the experience - without the cotton.
"Thank you, Dr. Canwell," said Thurston, snapping her out of her reverie.
"I have a question for Dr. Canwell," The speaker was Ginger Schmidt, a friend of Thurston's but also the council member who was most sympathetic to Mrs. Claridge and PRISS.
"The lady has the floor," Thurston said, with grace he did not feel.
"What could account for the behavior we've heard of going on at Inferno, Dr. Canwell?" Ginger said, referring to the demon nightclub. "I refer specifically to the way women, even married women, behave there."
"I'm a biologist, not a sociologist," Abby said. "So I really am not an expert on human behavior. As a human, and a woman, I could hazard a guess."
"Please do," Ginger prompted.
"I think it's likely that women have sexual drives of their own, and enjoy being with well built, skillful lovers."
"You're not here to advertise for them!" Mrs. Claridge shouted. "How'd you collect those samples, anyway?"
"Sgt. Dornan, please escort Mrs. Claridge from the meeting. Thank you," said Thurston, relieved he didn't have to engage her later as he promised.
"Well, I never!" Ginger said, no doubt meaning something. The handful of people who read the minutes later speculated that perhaps Ginger was a virgin, which given that she was the mother of three children, missed the mark widely. One of those children, christened Saffron but called Saffy by all her friends, was twenty years old and had been sitting in the back row. She listened a few minutes longer, and when the council moved on to other matters she slipped out. After all, it was Friday night, and Friday night meant Inferno.
Meanwhile, Alissa Cartwright was being talked into having her photo taken.
"If they are good enough to be fucked -" her friend Jane was saying.
"And oh, they definitely are!" interrupted Alissa.
"Then they are good enough to be acknowledged. More than acknowledged. We should be proud."
Alissa looked over at her husband Kyle. "What about it, honey? Are you ready for your wife to be outed as a demon fucker?"
"You should be proud, too," Jane told Kyle.
Jane practiced what she preached. Her Instagram feed was full of pictures of her posing in skimpy outfits with tall, handsome demons. And she'd made another account so she could put up the risqué stuff - for a small price, anyone could see pictures of Jane fucking and sucking well hung red-skinned lovers.
Kyle didn't answer right away, but Alissa knew what his answer would be before he opened his mouth by the bulge forming in his pants. Before meeting the demons, she would have thought "large bulge," but Kyle would never be able to measure up to them.
"I think you should do it," Kyle blurted.
"Well, just one, maybe," Alissa said.
Jane grinned. "Come with me, Alissa," she said.
As usual, Jane had it all planned. In moments Alissa found herself with a six-foot-eight handsome, red-skinned man with tousled midnight hair and small ivory horns sticking up. In the back was a sign that said Inferno, leaving no doubt where they were. A month ago Alissa would not have wanted to be photographed in the dress she was wearing, with or without a demon or the sign in it. It was completely see through, made of fine black mesh. Underneath she had a bra, garter belt, and a thong. The bra was lacy, and transparent as well, although between the two layers she was sort of street legal. All the underwear was visible underneath the dress, which was so short that it left two inches of bare thigh on top of the stockings. With it she wore four-inch heels. She had been practicing with higher ones, but she didn't feel like she could dance in them yet.
The demon, whose name was Vozraz, Voz for short, smiled for the camera as he put his arm around her. His tail wrapped around her thigh. Jane snapped the picture.
Voz groped her breast, and Jane snapped another picture. Alissa had signed a paper that said that demons in the club could touch her however they like. It had excited her, and it had excited Kyle, too. She had no complaint about Voz, just at Jane for taking the extra picture. She opened her mouth to say something, but Vox turned her toward him and kissed her, taking advantage of her open mouth to slide his long, forked tongue inside. Kissing demons always felt so good, and Alissa yielded, vaguely aware that Jane was snapping away.
Voz lifted her dress up and off so he could squeeze her bare ass. No doubt Jane still had her camera going, but the moment to object had passed. Besides, she wasn't ashamed, not at all. What woman wouldn't want a man like Voz? And not every woman who wanted him could get him. The bouncer at Inferno turned far more women away. Jane claimed that the demons weren't just bigger than humans, they were better, and Alissa was starting to believe she might be right.
Voz explored her body, and Alissa did what she wanted to do, ignoring the camera. She yielded to his touch and reached out her own small hand to feel Voz's crotch. Sure enough, the demon had been getting hard. How long and thick would he get? Every demon, male or female, had a big cock, well above human average. But how much bigger varied, and was always exciting to find out. She stroked his bulge as Voz pulled off her dress, and explored every inch of her body with his hands.
"You're wet," he told her.
She smiled. "What woman wouldn't be?" she asked him.
Vox grinned, and let her go. "The evening is young," he said. "Plenty of time for you to - anticipate, and get even wetter."
She stared after him as he turned and walked away. They could be such bastards, sometimes, but they took what they wanted, and Alissa loved being wanted. She debated putting the dress back on, and decided not to. When a demon took something off her, she felt it should stay off. She bunched up the dress and walked back to the bar where they'd been talking. Kyle had moved away, gathered up by one of the demonesses to sit, out of the way, with the other human men. His seat had been taken by a younger blonde woman, perhaps twenty, who looked vaguely familiar, although Alissa couldn't place it.
"Hey Mrs. Cartwright!" the blonde yelled as she approached.
The voice placed it for her. "Saffy?"
Saffy stood up. "All grown up!" she said. She had grown up, and grown out, since Alissa had taught her in Sunday School six years ago. Her breasts were full, with the perkiness of youth, and Saffy had made the most of them, with a neckline that plunged past her pierced navel. Her red dress was even shorter than Alissa's, revealing a tattoo on her thigh that said "Demon Slut" with horns on the o, and as she spun she flashed a little cheek.
