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Part 2025
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SCIENCE FICTION FANTASY

When Cozbi Met Amy Lit Con 2025

When Cozbi Met Amy Lit Con 2025

by djmac1031
19 min read
4.5 (1700 views)
adultfiction

A

Lit-Con 2025 Event

story, in association with

Freya Gersemi

and

Emily Miller.

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"What in the Nine Hells am I doing here?" I wondered to myself.

I stood in the lobby of the Grand City Hotel. Not a bad establishment, a little gaudy for my tastes, but it looked clean and well run.

"Welcome, Literotica Convention Attendees!"

Twin signs proclaimed the reason I was here. But not the why.

The why was... more complicated. I was a Vengeance Demon, Commander of Armies in service of The Queen Of Hell herself, Lucy Morningstar. So why would I deem to socialize amongst these mere mortals, at what was apparently some garish excuse for a porn convention / orgy?

Curiosity. That's what brought me here. And a strange invitation. An invitation I received in the mail, despite living completely off the grid in a cabin deep in the woods that I personally made sure no one, including the post office, had any official record of.

And yet there it was, on my floor: a plain blue envelope, shoved through a mail slot I didn't recall existing before. An envelope that had no right being there. Because in addition to my cabin being off the grid, I'd placed protective spells around it, spells guaran-fucking-teed to keep out unwanted intruders. If a squirrel so much as farted too close to my driveway I'd know about it.

Examining the envelope, there was no post mark, no stamps, just a single word. My name, my TRUE name, written in blocky manuscript:

"Cozbi."

Reaching out with my preternatural senses, I felt no aura of magic around it. In fact the vibe it gave off was distinctly human. Ripping it open, I found a single, thick card. On it was printed an invitation. Attached to the card was a Post-it note with a message hand written in the same block lettering:

"You should go. - DJ"

And so here I was, standing in line, impatiently twirling the invitation card in my hand as I waited my turn to check in. While I waited, I took in my surroundings, and more importantly, the ever increasing flow of people into the already crowded lobby.

I was impressed by the variety; all ages, shapes, sizes and genders. Some were dressed casually, some more formally, still others in wildly revealing and downright scandalous outfits. Which I absolutely adored, of course.

On the far side, a group dressed in leather BDSM gear chatted excitedly. Just behind me, several Furries sat resting on the lobby lounge chairs. Gathered by the elevators was a group that looked like they just walked off the set of Caligula.

As far as I could tell, the only thing any of these people had in common was they all were horny as fuck. The place reeked of pheromones.

Finally, I approached the check-in desk. The clerk eyed me hungrily, but managed not to drool on his tie. "Welcome to The Grand City Hotel. May I see your invitation please?"

I drummed my fingers on the desktop while he tapped away at the computer. "It might speed things along if you looked at the keyboard instead of my cleavage," I offered drolly.

His face turned almost as red as my nail polish. "Oh, um, yes, Miss, sorry, Miss, um... Ah, yes, here you are. Randi Fanin." His eyes couldn't hide his surprise. "Penthouse suite. Unlimited amenities. All expenses paid."

With a wide smile and an obvious struggle to maintain eye contact, he handed me my room key and a lanyard with a name tag card on it. "Enjoy your stay, Ms. Fanin. Your suite has been fully prepared and your luggage and packages have already arrived and been brought to your room. Your room key is also the key to your private elevator, follow the hallway down then to the left."

A small bead of sweat formed on his brow, and I didn't even need to look over the desk to know he was probably pitching a tent in his slacks as he took his shot. "If you need anything, anything at all, please feel free to call me. I'm James, you can ask for me directly, I'd be happy to assist you."

"Ha," I snickered. "Keep dreaming, James. Nice try though." As I turned and walked away, I made sure to exaggerate the sway of my hips to accentuate my denim clad ass. He was nice enough I suppose, so the least I could do was give him some mental masturbation material.

I pondered my mysterious benefactor as I proceeded down the hall. Whoever it was not only knew my true name, but apparently by the registry and name tag, knew my favorite alias as well.

Penthouse suite? All expenses paid? They'd certainly pulled a John Hammond alright.

As I keyed the slot and entered the elevator, I was determined to find out why.

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The suite was, I had to admit, impressive. A spacious, open living room that could easily entertain a dozen people comfortably. Full kitchen... Ha! Like I cook. A bedroom bigger than most New Yorkers' apartments. Walk-in shower in the bathroom. A hot tub in the main quarters right next to a heated swimming pool; half indoors, the other half extended under and beyond the expansive window wall that offered a magnificent view of the city.

A giant, heart shaped bed was the centerpiece of the bedroom, complete with canopy and satin sheets. The walk-in closet was already fully loaded with a wardrobe any woman, mortal or supernatural, would kill for. All perfectly tailored to my size of course, although upon closer examination, there was also a section stocked with expensive lingerie in a variety of sizes. I suppose in case I had guests?

Speaking of variety, the boxes James had mentioned were well stocked with every sex toy one could wish for; dildos, vibrators, buttplugs, anal beads, nipple clamps, handcuffs, floggers, and on and on... oh and plenty of lube of course.

It was everything a spoiled, horny She-Demon like me would expect. And yet I had planned none of it. It was all just... there. As if someone knew my preferences, knew my kinks, knew... me.

I should have been worried about this, or at least suspicious. Yet none of it felt malevolent. And then there was the note, left on the nightstand by the bed, written in a now familiar script:

"If you need anything else, just ask. Have fun. - DJ."

Beside this note was a packet, outlining the events for the weekend. Tonight was the "Meet & Greet" in the Grand Ballroom, complete with a jazz ensemble and open bar. That at least sounded up my alley, although I had no idea who I was supposed to meet, let alone greet. Maybe this mysterious DJ would show his face there?

Scanning through the events for Saturday, I had to chuckle at several of the seminars on the agenda.

"How To Please A Man?"

- Pfft. Like that's tough.

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"How To Please A Woman?"

- Seriously? I've made The Queen Of Hell orgasm multiple times, I think I've got that covered.

"Sex In The Modern Age?"

- Let me guess, a boring ninety minute lecture on consent, STDs and birth control. Hard pass.

I still had no clue what this whole thing was truly about. The only thing I'd discovered about "Literotica" was that it's some website where horny dweebs post sex stories for other horny dweebs to get off to. I guess this convention was an excuse for them to maybe finally get their dicks wet?

Speaking of wet, a drink sounded pretty good. But first, I was gonna break in that shower.

And that big purple vibrator.

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The ballroom was fully packed by the time I made my entrance. If I had thought the variety of people and outfits in the lobby earlier impressive, this was at least doubly so. Much of the ladies "evening wear" would have fit right in during the orgies I used to throw with Borgia back in the day.

I'd made it a full three steps past the doorway when I was hailed by a bubbly, very attractive redhead. "Hi! Welcome to Lit- Con! We originally thought of calling it Liter-Conica, but it didn't work for obvious reasons. But I'm rambling, sorry. Hi, I'm Freya, Freya Prossa, organizer of this event. And you are...?"

As her hazel eyes gazed up at me, expectantly awaiting my answer, I honestly wasn't sure if I frightened her, or she was smitten. Probably both.

"...Headed to the bar for a drink." I eyed her curvy but slim build with admiration. "Wanna join me?"

Her porcelain face blushed a deep crimson. "Oh! Wow! Well, yes but... no. You see, I'm here with my husband. And some friends. Some really, um, good friends. But I'm also trying to keep tabs on the attendees, making sure everyone got their rooms, their meal and drink tickets, their name tags, etc."

Her eyes seemed glued to my chest. I wonder if her husband knew of her affinity towards women. If she was running an event like this, probably so, I imagined.

Her face twisted in confusion. "Speaking of name tags, where's yours?"

"In the trash." Putting both hands on my hips, I struck my most seductive pose. "Do you really think that tacky lanyard would go with THIS dress, hun?"

Freya batted her eyes repeatedly. "No, um, guess not. But I'm supposed to verify the attendees' badges, so I..."

"... need to get back to your hostess duties, I understand." Bending low, I whispered in her ear, "You don't need to see my name tag."

"I don't need to see your name tag," she repeated in monotone.

"I can go about my business. Enjoy my night."

"You can go about your business. Enjoy your night."

I turned away, paused, turned back. "You'll have a good time with your husband and your friends tonight. A VERY good time. And maybe we'll see each other again later this weekend."

"I'd...I'd like that. Very much." Dazed and ever so slightly confused, Freya wandered back to her hostess table by the entrance.

She was cute, for sure. Downright sexy even. And she smelled delicious. But tonight, I was hoping to find someone a little more... exotic.

And just like that, I found her. At the bar. Drinking Dom PΓ©rignon rosΓ©. I loved her already.

Her sculpted shoulders, narrow waist, curvy hips and well formed legs were truly a masterpiece. Her face, while stunningly beautiful, looked deep in thought as she cradled her champagne flute.

Whatever was on her mind must have been pretty serious, as she never even looked up from her drink until I'd taken the stool next to her.

Leaning on the bar, I rested my chin on my palm and looked her dead in her beautiful coffee colored eyes. "I'd offer you a penny for your thoughts, but by the look of that gorgeous Gucci dress I'd say you certainly don't need my charity. So how about I offer my company instead?"

I admired her almost elfin face - long, delicate, with high cheekbones and a thin, slightly turned-up nose - as she contemplated my opening gambit.

After a long pause and another sip, she smiled. "Impressive pick up line. And I love your dress too. Prada?"

I flashed her my pearly whites. "Naturally."

She laughed at that and, with a flirtatious toss of her flowing mahogany hair, offered me her hand. "Amy. Amy Stevens. Pleased to meet you."

I brought her delicate hand to my lips and kissed it. "Randi Fanin. Charmed, I'm sure."

Her almond shaped eyes furrowed a moment, then went wide. "Randi Fanin? Wait, I thought I recognized you! You're... Cozbi???"

Startled, I dropped her hand and jumped up from my seat. "How do you know that name? Speak now and speak true, if you know what's good for you!"

To her credit, she neither flinched nor retreated, even as I loomed over her. "Oh, relax. I've read your stories is all. I'm a fan. Emily turned me on to them, both hers and that DJ guy's."

"DJ?" My second surprise in a row. "How do you know this DJ? Who is he?"

Amy cocked her head as if in thought. Then a look of understanding flashed across her face. "You don't know, do you?"

It was my turn to look confused. "Know what?"

Amy smiled sympathetically. "Maybe you should sit down for this." With a simple, elegant gesture, she summoned the bartender. He refilled her glass, then inquired what I would like.

"I'll have what she's having," I replied with a wink.

Drinks in hand, Amy extended her glass and, despite myself, I returned the offered toast with a clink.

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"So this is gonna get rather complicated I'm afraid," she began after we'd sipped. "But let's start at the beginning. What do you know about Literotica?"

I shrugged dismissively. "It's a glorified porn site for semi-literate perverts."

Amy arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Really? That judgmental? I thought you were sex positive."

"I am," I asserted. "I'm positive about going out and getting laid, not sitting in a basement writing about it and masturbating."

Amy chuckled. "I see your point. I'd rather live it than read it myself. But that's not important right now. What's important is that you understand who you truly are."

"Who I am?" I snapped. "What the actual fuck do YOU know about who I am?"

Again, she didn't flinch at my growing anger. "I know you're Cozbi; unjustly murdered princess turned Vengeance Demon, former servant of the Dark Lord Asmodeus..."

"Careful, mortal," I seethed, "I am no one's SERVANT. Especially not that fucker."

"My apologies," she nodded, "Former 'associate' of Asmodeus, now working directly for Satan herself, Lucy Morningstar. You fell in love with a young Nun named Emily Wilson, and after she helped you depose Asmodeus, she became an Angel and you two now live and work together."

It takes a lot to fluster me, but the casual way she rattled off her summation of my life had me shook. "And you know all of this... how?"

"I already told you. I read your stories. On Literotica. Do you get it now?"

I was beginning to. "So this... DJ... is some sort of mystical seer, one who has somehow divined my past and written my stories as tawdry fiction?"

"Close, but not quite," Amy smirked. "The truth is even stranger: Everyone here, all of us, including you and me, are fictional characters featured in stories on Literotica. And this 'convention' was simply an excuse for the authors to borrow and share each other's characters and put them in various sexual situations."

"That's absurd," I scoffed.

"It is," Amy agreed. "It's also the truth. Think about it: How exactly did you wind up here?"

"Well, it started when I found this envelope with the invitation, and..." My mind suddenly went blank as I struggled to recall the details. "There was an envelope. An invitation. And then I was just... here. In the hotel lobby. But I have no memory of traveling here at all."

"Sounds about right," Amy said. "Think about how stories work, how one scene cuts to another. How all the trivial details, like how you got to the airport, or how long your flight took, can get skipped over with a simple time jump that just moves the characters on to where they need to be in the story. In my case, I just suddenly found myself at a baggage terminal, waiting for Emily to come get me."

My jaw dropped. "Wait, How do you know Em? And why would she bring you here? I thought she was..." Again I could almost feel my brain cells grind to a halt as I struggled to recall where my angelic life partner was supposed to be at this moment.

Amy took my hand. It felt somehow comforting. "Sorry. Not YOUR Emily." She offered a sympathetic smile. "Look, this is gonna get confusing as fuck, I still struggle with it honestly. But first there's the author, Emily Miller. Not her real name, of course. Then there's 'Emily,' the character. Except there's several 'Emily' characters, including my best friend, the one that's currently upstairs going down on a cute little redhead, and your girlfriend, the Angel Em. And let's not even get started on the variations, like Emma and Lily, or..."

"Stop," I cut her off. "Just... stop." This whole thing was becoming more ludicrous by the moment. "So you're telling me that my friends Emma and Lily are also just characters written by this... 'Miller' person? That this whole thing is a set up by these amateur hacks calling themselves 'authors' just to, what? Get a bunch of random story characters who've never met before together and have them all fuck?"

Amy drained her glass. "Apparently, that's the goal."

I drained mine as well. "Fuck it then. Wanna come up to my suite?"

Amy's sultry grin would have soaked my panties, had I been wearing any.

"I thought you'd never ask."

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We didn't even wait til the elevator reached the top floor for the clothes to come off. Not that it took long to undress, considering neither of us wore anything under our expensive, custom made dresses.

While Amy may have been delusional... her "story" about why we were here was obviously nonsense... she was an incredible kisser. I've rarely encountered lips as soft and perfect as hers that were not enhanced with Botox.

We came up for air only long enough for her to take in the suite. "Oh my God, what a fabulous room! How the hell did you score the Penthouse? Emily and I only managed a mid tier suite. Still pretty nice, but..."

"Courtesy of DJ," I shrugged, playing along with her fantasy. "Guess the Emily who wrote your story just didn't think of it?"

While Amy took in the opulence, I took in her goddess-like nude body.

Wide, brown areola capped with prominent nipples I couldn't wait to suckle adorned her pert, mid-sized breasts. Her overall skin tone was light, with just a touch of olive that hinted at a European lineage, perhaps Czech.

While thin, with just a hint of rib cage showing, she was far from waifish. Her toned musculature spoke of regular workouts. Well defined abs framed her deep navel, with curves that drew the gaze naturally to the dark triangle of hair that topped her otherwise perfectly waxed vulva.

Long, shapely legs started at broad hips and ended at petite feet. Feet that were now moving in my direction as Amy crossed the short distance between us and leapt back into my waiting arms.

She was warm, soft, and oh, so willing. Hungry lips parted to accept my offered tongue, although I could feel her startle for a moment when she realized the tip was forked.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about your tongue! Now that has potential," she giggled after breaking the kiss. "Speaking of potential, if memory serves, you can also grow your own cock on demand, right?"

"Oh, most certainly," I affirmed. "Would you like to see it?"

Amy shook her head. "Not right now. Right now, what I want is..."

I was surprised by the force she used to guide me backwards towards the couch. Most women found me rather imposing, and so I tended to have to be the one to take charge.

Amy, however, had no issues taking the lead. And, rather out of character for myself, I let her.

Pushing me down onto the couch, she quickly leapt on my lap, straddling me. Her body was flushed with the heat of her passion as her lips again met mine. My nipples swelled quickly under her touch as she massaged my breasts.

My hands found her firm, perfect ass. She sighed as my fingers traced the curves of her glutes, grazing over her anus before delving lower, deeper, exploring her already slick folds.

Amy contented herself with allowing me to tease and titillate her in this way for several minutes as we made out before once again taking charge and guiding me down so that I lay supine on the couch, my head supported by the armrest.

Maneuvering herself above me, she gazed down at me with gorgeous, lust filled eyes. "I assume you're pretty flexible?"

Knowing where she was going with this, I answered by throwing my right leg up and over the back of the couch, while my left dropped so that my foot rested on the floor.

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