Tamara jerked. She pumped. She worked her fists in an excited fury up and down the length of the thick, steel-hard rod she held in both hands.
"Yes! Yes!" Mildred gasped, "That's it! Nearly there! I'm coming... I'm... coming...!"
Tamara could feel the pressure building inside it, against the palms of her hands. It was swelling, it was throbbing, and then suddenly in response to her final vicious jerk it quivered and spewed forth a tall fountain of creamy froth that shot up into the air and fell back, dribbling over her fingers. Tamara marveled at the quantity of the stuff. And the size of the thing! It was as thick as a coke can!
It actually was a coke can. Tamara swiped away the fizzing soda from the side and checked the logo.
"Yes!" Mildred leaned forward, her pretty demon eyes fixed avidly on the sheet of parchment laid out on the table in front of them, "I'm coming... home!"
Tamara watched with her as a sizzling heap of beige foam sloshed out of the coke can and onto the runic equations she and Mildred had traced onto the parchment.
Tamara felt a little leap of excitement in her stomach when she saw the runes begin to glow. A few of them lit up, in a queasy electric green. She recognized the glowing symbols as the Demonic Constants, the values that governed the rate of transfer of energy and information between worldly and infernal dimensions. She had learned a lot from Mildred already. The demon girl was circumspect about her abilities, but Tamara suspected she was very bright. Alongside studying from Miss Millie's spellbook, Tamara had spent the last day and a half trying to help Mildred cast again the same spell that had accidentally summoned her here from her home back in Hell.
The runes flickered, then faded, and a puff of coke-scented fumes rose from the parchment as the glowing green died out and disappeared. Nothing else happened.
"Didn't work?" Tamara looked across at Mildred.
Mildred was frowning. She looked disappointed, "We were close. Some of the magic was activated. I think we have at least found the correct equivalent soda drink for this dimension."
"That's progress," Tamara ventured.
She looked over at the stack of crates in the corner of the basement, each loaded with a dozen sodas bearing labels in every language Tamara knew, and many more that she didn't. Beside the crates stood a small ziggurat of empty, dented cans. Over the course of the afternoon they had by a process of trial and error homed in on the type of soft drink that seemed to produce the most powerful magical reaction together with Mildred's equations. Tamara was very proud that she herself had discovered the increase in potency that could be achieved by first vigorously shaking the can.
"Yes," Mildred sighed, and sat up, "But there's obviously some vital ingredient still missing."
Tamara looked again at the runes. The green glow had all but faded. "When it happened before, did all the equations light up? The whole thing?"
Mildred stroked her chin, frowning, "The first time? I think then I was taken by surprise. It all just happened so quickly, there was a bang, some glowing. and the green smoke. I'm not sure."
Mildred seemed very distracted. Despondent, even. Tamara checked the parchment again, hoping she might see something there that could help. But the ink of the symbols had drained into an indistinct mess, dark trails beginning to stream off the edge of the wooden tabletop to drip onto a large sticky patch of flavorings and preservatives on the dusty floor of the basement.
"You know, it's funny," Tamara began, pondering something, "But this is kind of a lot like cum-piling, in a way."
"Yeah. I suppose. We write out the system of differential equations for interdimensional energy transfer. That's a bit like a sorce code I guess, albeit a very abstract one."
"Then we shower them in a sticky mess," Tamara completed the thought.
"Right," Mildered pondered. Then she frowned, "What does that stuff taste like, by the way?"
"It's okay. Refreshing maybe, in moderation, but a bit too sweet." To demonstrate, Tamara ran her tongue over her fingers where they had been drenched in soda at the climactic moment of the magic trial. She stuck out each finger in turn and wrapped her tongue around it, swiping off the syrupy residue and lapping it up into her mouth.
"Uhh..."
In concert with Mildred's curious little groan, Tamara noticed two things occur. The ink of the magical equations, which was already blurring and running off the soaked parchment, gave off a sudden renewed flash of green, then faded. The effect reminded Tamara of the way some pieces of electrical equipment signal their awakening from standby mode.
The second thing she noticed, though in retrospect it seemed to occur at exactly the same moment as the green glow, was a similarly sudden pulsing movement at the lower edge of her vision, where something long and vaguely soft-looking twitched upward, then fell slowly back out of view.
Tamara looked down, "Um, Mildred..."
Mildred looked too. Then her face fell and she yanked her trenchcoat briskly but ineffectually closed around her slowly rising beast of a horsecock, "Oh no! I'm sorry."
"Come on, Mildred," Tamara suppressed a giggle, "I've seen you in action. It's fine. You shouldn't be embarrassed."
"Sure, but... we're working," Mildred cast her eyes down, coy, "I should be professional."
Tamara looked away, smiling. She became aware of her hand in front of her face, still sticky with the overflow of the erupted Pepsi can. Then a thought began to form, an idea. Which quickly snowballed to an excited conclusion.
Of course!
"Oh my," Tamara turned and fixed Mildred with what she hoped was a seductive smirk, "I am all sticky aren't I? Such a naughty, messy girl."
Tamara opened her lips, pursed them, and slid them slowly onto her index finger. She sucked in her cheeks, and swirled her tongue around inside them, murmuring the sorts of ostentatious sounds of appreciation that women make when consuming sweet drinks or desserts in commercials. Holding Mildred's gaze, she slid her finger out with a moist
pop
, then proceeded to repeat the procedure on her middle finger.
Mildred stared. Tamara could see the demon girl's breathing quickening, and her cheeks flushing pink. When Tamara reached her third finger, she stole a glance downward. Though bending under its own weight, Mildred's slowly lengthening cock was unmistakably half-erect, poking out of the seam of her trenchcoat.
"Uhh, Tam-m-mara..." Mildred stammered.
Tamara looked then to the soggy parchment on the table. The forms of the equations had soaked and run into an indistinct mass, but the ink was definitely glowing, and glowing brightly. Yes! She was right!
"Think about it Mildred," Tamara gasped, popping a final pinky finger out of her mouth, "Magic, it runs on... on... horniness, sexy feelings."
"I dunno," Mildred frowned, skeptical, "Maybe for your spells it does. But when it happened the first time, I was just sitting there."
