#multiple partners

Your first attempts were fruitless. Soon enough, though, you got the nameless demon through. It didn't look like anything at first, it hurt to even try to make sense of it. Not invisible, but incomprehensible, a feeling more than an image. It didn't talk, but you did. You talked a lot, like you were writing in a diary. At least twice a week, you would push your rug to the side, draw the circle, drip some of your blood in a ceramic bowl and light the candles. Then you talked. About school, about your parents, about your grades, about your bullies.

As time passed, it learned to reply, though it never made a noise. Instead, you just found stray, foreign thoughts in your own head. “Language is difficult,” it had explained, “It doesn’t come to me naturally, but I like learning.” That motivated you somehow and you started reading books to it. After a while, it started helping you with your math homework. “Math is easy,” it said, “It’s in the nature of everything. Shapes, numbers, functions.” You started shining among your peers. Your grades improved, your mood got better and it kept changing.

From an incomprehensible something, it turned into a shadow hanging in the air, then took the shape of a human silhouette with glowing eyes. By the time you got into college, it looked like your perfect twin. It shared every single one of your features, except for its eyes: iris-less expanses that glowed a color you couldn’t quite name.

Hiding your demon summoning from your roommate required some concessions: you had to wait until she got to sleep, talk in whispers, keep in your laughter, stay on the lookout for any signs of her waking up. Fortunately, you had separate rooms so you still could work your little magic if you were careful.

One night, however, you got completely drunk, barely making your way back to the apartment after flirting with a cute classmate for hours. Your mind was too fuzzy, your body too comfortable. You drew the circle, spilled the blood, lit the candles. And you forgot the binding symbols.

Your eyes opened wide when it walked over the ritual circle. Your breath hitched when it approached you. A gasp made its way through your lips as you backed into the wall. Another when it reached for you, its touch electric.

The Tome had been very specific: never summon a demon without binding it. It repeated it profusely, the various scribbles and notes of previous users warned against the incredible dangers of unprotected summoning. But you forgot. And now the demon you forged was pressing its body against yours, pinning you with your own appearance, and making its way into your head.

Your mind was quickly invaded by a pour of white noise that drowned out any coherent thought that hadn’t been already dulled by booze. It wasn’t painful, however, in fact, if anything, it was overwhelmingly good. You almost couldn’t feel its lips kissing your neck, followed by the much clearer sensation of its teeth nipping at your skin.

Its hands were quick to find just the right spots, just the right way to touch you. It was like it knew you inside and out, as well if not better than you knew yourself. Hips bucking with its hand up your skirt and teasing at the hem of your panties, you gasped out a “Why?”

“You let me out,” it told you, “I want to thank you.”

The terror of what consequences could follow were carefully minced apart by the demon’s hand. Its lips, its fingers, its teeth, its stray thoughts, all working together to break you down. Finally letting out a moan muffled by a deep, passionate kiss, you relented.

Its presence was everywhere in the room, everywhere against you, not just bound to its physical body. It was a constant buzzing, electric sensation that shifted over your entire skin, even through your clothes. It didn’t even need to undress you to make your toes start to curl.

Suddenly, you realized you were lying on your bed, your panties around an ankle, as if the last two minutes had slipped by. Stolen time. Something that looked exactly like you slowly made its way up your thigh, leaving a trail of kisses. Another copy of your body held your head in its hands to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, stealing your breath with its lips.

When that tongue finally pressed against your clit, it knew exactly what to do. It was in your own mind, your own thoughts and desires betraying you, telling it what you wanted, what made you tick. Next were its fingers, playing you better than you ever did, more ambitious, with this electrifying touch that quickly turned you into a moaning, whimpering mess. It hadn’t left a single space left in your brain to think about the thin walls, about your roommate, or even about the neighboring apartments.

It made you cum again and again, every time coming back with more hands, more mouths, more tongues. By the end, you were surrounded by half a dozen or so of your own doppelgangers, hushing you and caressing you back down to earth. The buzzing in your mind slowed down, the one against your skin retreated to only the vague feeling of some invisible presence.

When you could finally make words, you asked it what it was going to do now, the words barely making their way out of your lips. The prospects of it being let free on the world was terrifying. You never imagined how powerful this creature could be. The extent of its abilities was still out of grasp.

“I was thinking about moving in,” it replied, “If you don’t mind.”