Clean

Mallory awoke with a start, and then sighed in relief as she saw the demon silhouetted against the faint light of the rising sun.

Oh, she thought to herself, taking in the sight of the succubus perched on one bedpost like a gargoyle clad in stiletto heels and little else, it's just her.

JUST her?

She blinked away the new wave of surprise washing over her rapidly-fading tiredness as the demon cocked her shapely, horn-crowned head at her.

Jordyn sat cross-legged on the glossy wooden floor, back against a tall metal cylinder, a red rubber hose cascading over her shoulder to lay dormant in her lap. She busied herself tying off a brightly-colored balloon, fingers tripping over each other in an effort to resolve the tangle of ribbon and latex. Finally, with some difficulty, she knotted it and moored it to a rack of folding chairs wheeled out into the center of the gymnasium, where it bobbed up to join a depressingly small multi-colored bundle. She leaned back and sighed loudly.

"Twenty down, two hundred billion to go."

To say that Carmen was built like a brick shithouse would be great praise to brick shithouses, or a great insult to Carmen.  Her height and musculature outstripped every man she met, with a sculpted, powerfully built figure.  At the same time there was no small degree of femininity to her, with thick thighs, firm breasts larger than her head - let alone anyone else's - and an enormous mane of flowing auburn hair held up in a high ponytail.  She attracted attention in the open-air gym, especially in a form-fitting sports top and shorts, though doing curls with barbells bearing

“You said you had a bird problem!” Mavis fumed in front of the sandwich shop owner at the counter.

The man was middle-aged, portly with tannish skin, beady eyes and a bushy top lip. He winced, and nodded in acknowledgement at the pest doctor’s peeved glare.