Clean

The refinery loomed in the dark, a monolith of steel and shadows, its towers belching smoke into the sky. Astrid Thorsdottir, Valkyrie and warrior, crouched behind a pile of scrap metal, her sharp eyes scanning the heavy iron doors. Clad in close-fitting leather armor that did nothing to conceal her curves, she squatted, her enchanted spear rested against her shoulder, its runes glinting faintly in the dim light. Inside, her girlfriend was held captive by Malthorax, a notorious wizard, and his coven of grotesquely bloated warlocks.

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.

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

Your eyes open slowly. You blink away some of the sleep that still clings to you and roll over in bed. A sliver of late morning sun peeks through the gap in your blackout curtains and runs across the sheets. It’s nice to sleep in after a week like the one you’ve had.