"How are you ever going to become a saint if you keep fucking everything in sight?" Mark asked me, glaring down from the edge of the pit.
"I don't want to be a fucking saint!" I screamed, wild, leaping flames roaring to life around me. "I want to be your slave. Nothing more, because I am nothing more."
"Stupid little cunt," a red-skinned, voluptuous brunette sneered, forked tail lashing behind her. "He doesn't want trash like you. He likes his girls at least to seem to be respectable before he takes them into his bed and fucks them like the sluts they really are. Oh, and he likes actual tits too."
A shrill, cackling laugh erupted from the demoness's fat lips while she grasped and lifted her enormous boobs. I screamed and screamed, trying to climb out of the pit, trying to avoid the fire, trying to get to Mark and his fat-tittied bitch so I could claw her fucking eyes out.
"She's always been a worthless nympho cunt," a new girl said, blonde hair in sharp contrast to her bare maroon flesh.
"Amara," I croaked as despair and anger swirl in my mind, noting that my former friend's body, which she now pressed against Mark as she rubbed his groin, looked precisely how I wanted mine to be, at least in the secret depths of my heart.
"It's the boobs," my mother's voice boomed in my head. "And the extra few inches of height. Shit, her body looks more like mine than yours ever will."
"Yeah, it's the boobs, you stupid little twat," the Amara demon laughed.
"And the height," the brunette demon snickered. "Boobs and height... and not being a shameless slut all the time is why Mark picked me."
"Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" I screamed, but my voice was lost in their laughter. Tears streaming down my face, I fell to my knees on the burning stones and let the fire consume me...
"Wake up, Jessi," a voice cut through the din, and everything around me changed. The brightness of hellfire was replaced by soothing darkness lit only by a distant light. I looked around, trying to figure out where I was. Siting up, a blanket slid off me and to the floor. I patted the cushion beneath me, felt its rough texture. I wasn't in my apartment. And the thing I was sitting on was not my bed, but rather a couch.
"You had a nightmare," a female voice told me. I realized someone was standing at the end of the couch, but all I saw was a silhouette. A scream fought to be free itself from my lungs, but in the same instant, I recognized the voice.
"Sheri?' I asked, my voice hoarse, and everything came rushing back to me—Kent and Brad, hooking up with them, putting on a show for them, sharing them, taking turns with them, the two of them fucking me at once, and Kent leaving after revealing how big an asshole he really was.
"Yeah. You were whimpering and crying in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare?"
"Yeah. I was in a burning pit, and Mark and Jessika and Amara were taunting me, but Jessika and Amara were demons... I tried to yell at them, but they just laughed."
"Do you mean you were with Mark taunting yourself? And who's Amara?"
"No, I mean her. Jessika with a 'k'. Mark's fat slut. The one he chose over me."
"You never told me that before. It's kinda messed up, I think. It seems so, um, weird that he was dating two women named Jessica..."
"It's why he called me Jessi," I shrugged, not wanting to get into all of it.
"Do you prefer Jessica or Jessi? I met you as Jessi..."
"Jessi is fine. I go by it a lot," I assured my friend with benefits. I did not tell her how much it bothered me that the other Jessika took that name while I was stuck with Jessi with Mark, and that sometimes that reality hurt... and pissed me off.
"Okay. But who's Amara?"
"The first girl Mark and I had a threesome with. My former friend."
"Oh, I see. Are you...?"
"Did Brad leave?" I asked, needing to change the subject before the millipedes that were stirring in my head fully awakened.
"Nah, he's sleeping. I was going to wake him and tell him to go, but he looked quite comfortable, so I didn't."
"You guys had fun?"
"Fuck yeah," the strawberry blonde laughed, sitting beside me. "That boy can lick pussy. He's as good as half the girls I've been with."
"As good as me?" I murmur, kissing her neck and bringing her unresisting hand up to my bare tits. I'd not bothered getting dressed after I showered away the shame of letting an asshole like Kent do what he did to me. I'd found a blanket in the hall closet and curled up on the couch naked.
"No," Sheri sighed, and for a moment, she leaned in against me before pulling her hand away from my breasts. "Did you let Kent fuck you bareback?"
I shrugged my shoulders, looking down. Sheri had been adamant that I shouldn't let either of the guys fuck my pussy without a condom. I had gone along despite my dislike for condoms. At least, I'd gone along until Trent insulted Sheri. She and Brad had gone to her room, leaving me alone with Kent. After that, he filled my cunt with cum. And I'd washed it all out as soon as he left.
"I took a shower," I said when the silence grew uncomfortable.
"You need to be smarter about this shit, Jessi," my friend sighed.
"Yeah, he turned out to be a real asshole."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it."
"It's not a big deal..."
"It is to me. I'm going back to bed."
"Sheri..."
"I'm going back to bed," she said again as she walked down the short hall toward the bedroom.
I sat for a moment, thinking. About Mark and Jessika. About Mark and Amara. About Sheri. And about Kent. Streams of millipedes stampeded through my mind, and I considered looking through Sheri's kitchen to see where she kept her alcohol. But I needed to pee first, so I made my way to the bathroom.
Waiting for me outside the bathroom door, startling me, lurked Sheri.
"Shit! Don't scare me like that."
"Sorry. I just thought you might like a sleep shirt."
"You're not afraid it'll catch something from me?"
"That's not what I mean, Jessi. I'm worried about you..."
"I'll be fine," I shrugged, taking the sleep shirt. My friend's concern made me feel both happy and guilty, a combination sure to promote brain bugs. So after we said our further goodnights, I went to Sheri's kitchen and found an open bottle of wine.
* * *
"Time to go, Brad," a whispered voice said, the sibilant sounds of it filtering through the fog infesting my brain. A smacking sound followed by a girlish giggle followed. I squinted against the glare in the room, making out two shapes near the door, two shapes that resolved themselves into Sheri, still in her sleep shirt, and a dressed Brad.
"I can't leave without your number," he said, landing another smack on my friend's barely covered bottom.
"You can," Sheri grinned at him. "I told you..."
"...you prefer girls for dating. I know. But a guy can dream, can't he?"
"Maybe," the strawberry blond shrugged, but I could hear uncertainty underneath the playfulness in her voice. Something must have happened in the night, something that was making my friend-with-benefits reconsider her stance on dating girls and only hooking up with guys.
"Can you guys flirt a little more quietly, please?" I asked, surprised by the roughness of my voice.
"Shit, Jessi," Sheri groaned. "We didn't mean to wake you."
"Yeah, sorry," Brad offered, staring at me as I set up and glared at them from the couch. "And sorry about Kent too. Sheri told me what an asshole he was before he left. Oh, and about me being a jerk at first too. I get that way when I'm nervous."
"No biggie. I've been with worse assholes. Besides, I think Sheri had fun, at least after she got you alone."
"Yeah, I think so too," Brad nodded, glancing at my suddenly blushing friend. "Can you talk her into giving me her number..."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Sheri snarled. "Give me your phone."
