I blushed. Hard. I’d never thought that any part of me could ever be described as ‘cute’ before, but with my voice like this… knowing her compliments were actually genuine just made me that much more susceptible to her teasing. Still, while I understood there was little to be gained in answering her clearly rhetorical question, my strange elation at the sound of my newly feminine voice was undercut by the feeling that it wasn’t right for me to be taking advantage of Alzette like this. 

“You don’t have to go that far—I mean, I should be the one making you feel good. That’s the guy’s job, isn’t it?” Despite my anxiety, a little flutter of joy still appeared in my stomach with every word that came out of my mouth. I had to admit it felt just a little unconvincing to say those things while sounding like I did.

Alzette responded with a wry glance and a sigh. “Let me guess: You usually don’t get a lot out of sex with other partners, so you try to make up for the internal guilt you feel over not really enjoying it all that much by overcompensating with the other girl’s pleasure, right?”

“I—” I sputtered. Damn. If she was gonna read me like that, she could have at least been gentle with the pages.

“Well too bad—it’s Christmas! That means tonight is all about giving without expecting anything in return. And I’ll have you know that I,” she slowly pulled down the top of her leotard until her perfect breasts burst free, “am a generous mistress.”

I shuddered in anticipation at her words. As much as I would like to pretend otherwise, my gaze was locked firmly onto her bare chest, her perky black nipples standing proudly against her cherry red skin. 

“That little problem of yours in the bedroom isn’t a lack of attraction or interest—The lust coming from you is absolutely delicious by the way. Like I’ve been saying, it’s just that you haven’t had a body you could properly enjoy it with. But that’s why I’m here.” She gently cupped my chin, stroking my cheek with her thumb. “Feel that? Or no, you don’t feel that, do you? All that stubborn little stubble is gone now.”

She was at least right about the facial hair being gone, and I honestly couldn’t deny how excited I was to never have to deal with it again. I wasn't sure how much of this was the change or just the situation, but my skin was like a live wire, so soft and smooth and sensitive. Little shivers ran down my body wherever her body brushed against mine.

“Also,” she grew slightly sheepish as she scratched at her cheek, “succubi have this nifty little thing called ‘sympathetic orgasms’. So trust me—the pleasure is all mine.”

Even so, I still couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty, and despite Alzette making it clear she would broker no argument, I was very good at digging myself into a hole. “I mean, I feel like reciprocation is important even ignoring the whole gender component, and if you’re willing to put up with me then I should at least—”

“Ughhh.” she groaned, “I’m seriously torn! I really want to hear more of those adorable moans of yours, but what’s the point of having such a lovely voice if you’re just going to waste it putting yourself down?” She tapped her chin in faux-contemplation. “I guess I could always just overwhelm you with so much pleasure that you lose the ability to form coherent sentences.”

I couldn’t deny that part of me thought that sounded pretty swell actually, but that would also mean not getting to see each change as it happened. 

“I—I’ll try to do better! I mean, ‘better’ being a relative term here. Understanding that someone like me who is objectively lacking compared to other people can only be so much—”

“Oh my god! I’m gonna have to make you shut up aren’t I? I’ll admit this is partly my fault for starting with the voice, but still, you are such a brat.”

I was about to complain that my earlier complaining didn’t necessarily qualify as ‘bratty’ behavior, only to have my breath stolen away as Alzette leaned in to lock her lips around mine. My eyes went wide and I felt her smirk into the kiss. She tasted like cinnamon and smoked apple cider. In that moment, I decided those were my new favorite flavors.

She cupped my face again, pushing me back against the headboard with the sheer intensity of her kiss before finding a crack in my defenses and slipping her tongue inside. I realized then that demon tongues were forked, very long, and very dextrous. I realized immediately after that I was kinda into that.

We frenched for what felt like minutes, her tongue playing tango with mine, briefly breaking away only to breathe before redoubling our efforts. Light gasps and moans escaped my lips in those short interludes, each sultry sound filling me with equal parts bubbly euphoria and smoldering arousal.

It was only when I started to feel the magical heat infusing where Alzette had taken my face in her hands that I realized all of the gripping and squeezing she’d been doing in our passionate embrace had been more than mere animalistic motion. The fierce tingling on my skin like a tapestry of pinpricks formed a vague, but unmistakable picture of how my face was softening and smoothing out into something distinctly feminine, contrasting with the dull burn where it permeated deeper into the bone at a handful of spots along my brow and jaw. 

But eventually the fire faded into embers and so too did the best kiss of my life end. She pulled away gently, her tongue taking a few seconds more to fully recede. A low, whimpering moan escaped unbidden from my mouth the moment it was finally freed from Alzette’s plush prison, the sound of which made the sweet sorrow of our parting entirely worth it. My lips, definitely bigger and more sensitive than they had been before, were still hot and tingly from her kiss. I wasn’t quite sure if the sensation would ever go away. I didn’t really want it to. 

A wide smile crept across Alzette’s face as she pulled back and took in the results of her handiwork. I found myself thinking that it was a strangely innocent expression for a demon like her to wear. It wasn’t a devilish grin like she’d worn earlier in the night. It wasn’t the domineering self-assured smirk of a Mistress. It wasn’t the hungry anticipation of an aroused lover. It wasn’t even an artist’s pride in her craftsmanship. She was just earnestly happy to see me. 

It was hard for me to believe that I had been afraid of Alzette before. She might have been a demon, but at that moment she sure looked like an angel to me. Call me a hopeless romantic or whatever you will, but I wanted nothing more than to see her smile at me like that all the time. Lost in the endless mirth of her brilliant scarlet eyes, for the briefest instant, I saw what she saw in me. I caught the reflection of a woman staring back at me.

A really cute one.

Wow. That made me happy. Really happy. A lot happier than it probably should have made me. And maybe it was just a trick of the light, a reflection distorted in the lens of Alzette’s eye. But what if it wasn’t? What if I really looked like that? What if I could look in the mirror every morning from now on and see her there instead of some guy who sometimes felt like a stranger to me? Sure she’d probably still be the same tired mess with bedhead and bags under her eyes, but she’d be her, and that would be reason enough to wake up every day. 

“A-Alzette?” Now was a strange time to start getting self-conscious about my body, but this was something worth actually caring about. “Do you think you could let me go for just a minute so I can see what I look like? Or maybe even just bring a hand-mirror over here to—Wait, I don’t think I actually have one of those. Umm, maybe you could bring my phone over and I could use the camera?”

“You mean you want me to show off your adorable new face only for you to glass-half-empty me by focusing on the parts of your body that haven’t finished changing yet? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

It wasn’t that I meant to prove her right, but I did absolutely look down at the rest of my body the moment she mentioned it, only for her to lean in even closer against me, obscuring my view of everything but herself. The blow of her shutting down my request was admittedly cushioned slightly by her breasts squishing even tighter against my torso.

“Work. In. Progress.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re just gonna have to be a good girl and wait til’ Christmas morning.”

My common sense was yelling at me to not argue that it was, technically speaking, already Christmas morning. I begrudgingly listened. Also, it was a bit hard to say anything in response when Alzette calling me a good girl once again had me all weak and melty. I still didn’t understand how two simple words could render me this defenseless, but I was starting to realize that maybe I liked feeling weak and melty and defenseless if it was with the right person. 

Her words also dislodged a memory from a Christmas Eve long past. I had been so excited for Christmas to come that I’d resolved to stay up the entire night waiting for the exact moment Santa would arrive down the chimney. So utterly filled with this bouncing giddy excitement, the very notion of sleep was entirely out of the question. At least, until two or three AM hit and I ran out of fuel all at once in that way that only kids can, passing out on our living room couch. I had thought that feeling, the basic ability to experience an all-consuming emotion that temporarily became your whole world, was long gone—a casualty of growing older and more jaded. But here I was again with that same kinetic thrumming anticipation rushing through me for the first time in a very very long time. That flame I had thought long dead had suddenly been rekindled. Not a single emotion, but emotion itself, muted grays popping into vibrant color; all over the laughably mundane prospect of getting to see myself in the mirror. 

I think I liked this. I think I liked this a lot. 

And then Alzette buried my head in her cleavage.