Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. This story is the property of the author. It may be redistributed, copied and stored without changes, though it is not to be used by commercial entities. Using this material in any commercial publication, including websites, without the express permission of the author, will be followed up with legal action. This fictional story was written for the entertainment of adults and should not be viewed by those under the legal age. This is a story of casual, unprotected sex, and is a work of fiction. In real life, use a condom, damnit! Unwanted babies, HIV and all sorts of lesser sexual diseases await the idiot who "dips his wick" or "rides the rod" without protection. -- I Dream of Demie 5 - Clucking Hell (MF, cons, magic, safe, viol) by Krosis of the Collective ( -- A week ago... Marsha Patterson walked along the park path, her poodle Mookie ahead on her leash, sniffing at this and that. Marsha was up early, getting her bit of exercise before heading to work. Nobody else was up so she had the park to herself. The sun was just beginning to appear on the horizon. She was lost in thought and didn't notice anything wrong until Mookie started to bark. Marsha peered into the trees. There was a shadow there, definitely female. "Hello?" she offered. The shadow separated from the darkness of the trees and Marsha could see the curves of an hourglass figure above the gait of a self-assured woman approaching her. Mookie barked louder, almost frantic, moving in between her owner and the newcomer. The strange woman stopped and looked at the poodle. Her eyes seemed to glow for a moment and the dog whimpered, cowering. Then the woman came closer, those glowing eyes rising to meet Marsha's. Marsha had never seen a more beautiful woman. She reminded her of someone but couldn't place it. Her head didn't seem to be working right. So beautiful... Mookie's leash dropped to the ground and the dog ran for her life, the image of a huge, slavering three-headed mastiff in her head. She heard her mistress gasp, the last sound she would ever make in this world, but the dog kept running. -- Today... Detective Dianna Shepherd sighed. Another weekend of going over the details of a series of missing persons cases with no real leads when she should have been resting, or finding some hot woman to fuck! She was so frustrated, on both sides. She looked at the photo of Marsha Patterson. Early forties, not bad to look at, lived alone with her poodle. Had she been lesbian too? If they had met in a bar, would they have--? She shook her head. Next weekend she was definitely going to go out and have some fun. -- Demie had left after her demon baby prank had just about given me a heart attack, leaving me to doze fitfully until I had to get up for work. Ugh, Monday again (the day, not my buddy Monday). My work day went by slowly. Carrie passed my cubicle and almost looked like she was going to talk to me, but then she continued on. Or did she have some business nearby and it was just my imagination? I didn't know. I kept almost nodding off in the afternoon. Demie's...attentions...took a lot out of me, though I didn't require 18 hours of sleep after she jumped me anymore. Did that mean that I was getting used to her, her to me, or did I just have less energy for her to steal these days? Finally, 5 PM rolled around and I staggered out of the office. Demie wasn't home when I got back, so I undressed, got into bed, and fell right to sleep. -- A week-and-a-half ago... Banker Man looked out over the city -- his city. Below, the little people went about their daily lives, unaware of the dangers, the terrors that Banker Man kept at bay. Banker Man took another puff of his cigarette. Bob Perkins felt like a superhero watching over the city from the roof of his work building. The wind whistled by, carrying the nicotine-laced smoke from his breath, scattering it like his dreams had when he started this job; no, this career. He had been at it for over 8 years now...time to start thinking of it that way. "Got another, hun?" He quickly turned to find a beautiful woman right behind him in a tight business outfit with a pencil skirt. He had been alone seconds ago, and hadn't heard the roof door open. The woman pointed at the cigarette in his hand, waggling her eyebrows questioningly. He shoved the cig in his mouth and quickly fished out his pack and silver Zippo, the latter with a devilish face engraved into it. It had been a gift from his big brother when he took the job at First Bank, a none-too-subtle joke. His parents were proud of their up-and-coming youngest son, but his brother was disappointed, hoping he would do something to make the world better, not make money just to make money. Bob had kept the lighter, determined to own the joke. He gave a cigarette to his gorgeous companion, who had cat's eye glasses and curly auburn hair, a look he was partial to, and tried to light it for her. The wind blew it out instantly. He cupped his hand to try to keep the flame alive, but it was no use. The wind had really picked up. The woman pulled close and he breathed in her heady scent. His cock got hard quickly. Then she touched the end of her cigarette to his and breathed in, lighting hers up. After that she didn't pull away. She looked at him with amber eyes that seemed to glow, drawing him in. His mouth went slack and his cigarette fell. As she moved her cigarette aside he leaned in and kissed her. Banker Man crumpled to the ground, a look of bliss on his dead face. Demie finished her smoke and then disposed of the evidence, though she kept the Zippo. -- Today... I woke up to a nasty stench, making my nose wrinkle as I sat up. What was that? It seemed to be coming from the living room. 'Oh shit,' I thought, 'Demie didn't kill someone here again, did she?' I threw my robe on and dashed into the living room. No body, but the stench was terrible and there was...something...sitting on my couch. Feathers covered the...woman? Her arms seemed to also be wings, and those ended in nasty looking talons, as did her feet. I could see boobs protruding out between her chest feathers, but the stench kept me from admiring those. Her face was harsh, leathery. "She looks like a hundred miles of bad road," my grandpa would have said. Her head snapped around to look at me, and I paused, noticing hawk-like eyes and feral teeth. "Umm...can I help you?" I said uncertainly. The creature rose up onto her feet and approached me with a lumbering gait. I could practically see the stink lines radiating from her, and did my best to hold still and breathe through my mouth. She stopped a footfall away, sniffed me, and then spoke, seemingly with great difficulty, her voice a cross between a large bird and a piano being smashed to pieces: "DEE...MEE?" "Uhh...she's not here. could come back later?" The creature jumped and flopped back onto the couch. Crossing her wing arms, she looked defiantly back at me. "Okay..." I said, "You just wait here, I guess." I headed back into the bedroom and changed. She was still there when I came back out. That smell! 'Well, maybe she'll smoke up with me and mellow out,' I thought. I went to my stash... ...and found that Demie had used it all up! Fuck! I called in sick to work. I didn't know what would happen if I left this creature here alone, and I needed to get some more chronic before Demie got back. I texted Monday and waited. "sure com on over," was the reply. "Okay," I said to the...whatever it was, "Can you change shape like Demie? You have to come with me to get something she wants, and you can't go outside like that." The creature raised one wing arm and revealed a bracelet. She touched it and suddenly she was a severely slim woman in jeans, army boots, and a tight tank top. The leathery face remained but now she had unkempt mousy brown hair instead of feathers. The smell remained, though. "Can you please shower before we go? I'm sorry, but humans don't smell like that." The creature got up from the couch and breezed by me, heading into my bedroom. I heard her mutter, "Hmph" as she went. Then I heard the water running in my bathroom. I let my breath out in relief. I wrote Demie a note: 'Dear Demie...' Dear? Why did I write that? She wasn't dear to me... ...or was she? We'd had sex quite a few times over the last few weeks, and even with casual relationships feelings can start up, but she was a murderous demon! Shaking my head, I continued: 'I'm taking your bird lady friend to Monday's place to pick up some ganja. Here's the address if you want to meet us there...' The bird creature left my shower a godawful mess but she smelled a lot better after washing up. Not great, but not terrible anymore. We left my apartment and walked to Monday's place. "Nice to see you, buddy!" Monday ushered us into his less stinky than my companion but still stinky pad. "Who's this?" "Um..." I realized I hadn't gotten the creature's name. She moved close to Monday to smell him. "HEP-ZI-BAH," she rattled. "Cool name!" Monday said to her, motioning us to sit on his nasty couch. Monday brought out a pre-made spliff and lit it up. After sucking down some of its smoke he offered it to Hepzibah. She took it, sniffed it, and then brought it to her own lips, parroting (ha) what Monday did. I didn't know what to expect. If pot worked on demons it might work on this weird bird lady too. She coughed and then started hacking. Monday got up and patted her back, trying to help. She dropped the joint and I grabbed it before she got burned. Monday sat on the couch next to Hepzibah, his arm still around her back. Was he--? Yes he was. Monday was hitting on the smelly bird lady. Even weirder, she seemed to be responding favorably. As Monday rubbed her back with his hand she started making a cooing sound, like a huge pigeon. This was too weird for me. I sucked on the fatty, gave it back to Monday, and then headed to the washroom to take a leak. When I came back out the living room was empty, and Monday's bedroom door was closed. Oh HELL no! I banged on the door until Monday opened it, all pissed off. "Dude!" he said, "Don't cock-block me! You two aren't "together" together, right?" I shuddered. "NO!" I said a little too forcefully, "But she's not what you think..." Monday looked over his shoulder at Hepzibah sitting on his bed. "Don't care dude." As he started to close the door in my face I held it open. "At least wrap it up, okay?" I suggested. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I didn't want my buddy catching some sort of netherworld VD. Monday smiled, revealing his yellowed teeth. "Always, Tommy!" Then he shut the door. I spent the next 15 minutes trying not to listen to the racket on the other side of that door. Monday groaning, Hepzibah...clucking? Then she was shrieking, and I heard Monday yell out, "Yea-AAHHH!" I was almost at the bedroom door when I heard Monday call out, "Holy shit woman! You like it rough, huh? Well, two can play at that game!" Then I heard something hit the far wall, followed by a screech her. "Woooo!" Monday cried out, and then there was the sound of a lamp breaking. I slowly sat back down on the couch and waited, shaking my head and trying not to think of Monday sticking his dick into that disgusting creature. I wasn't successful. I felt ill. Finally the ruckus calmed down. I poked my head into Monday's bedroom to find the entire room in chaos, furniture scattered and/or broken. Hepzibah was lying in the crook of Monday's shoulder, snuggling up to him and making that cooing sound again. Monday had a huge smile on his face but his chest was tiger striped, blood dripping onto the tattered remains of his bed sheets. Both of them were naked, though Hepzibah still looked human. I backed out of the room. Thankfully, Demie showed up a few minutes later. I explained what happened and then we both went into Monday's bedroom. "DEE-MEE!" Hepzibah shrieked, rising from the bed and giving her friend a big hug. Demie turned to look at Monday. "You fucked a harpy and you're still alive? I'm impressed!" Monday barely managed to lift his head. "Call me?" he said weakly as the two women left. I called an ambulance. -- Krosis' home on the web: Fans or pans? E-mail Krosis of the Collective (