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Scott was curled up in bed
enjoying himself very thoroughly
when the incubus appeared
in a puff of sulfurous smoke,
all handsome body and brick-red skin
and pert little horns on his forehead,
pointed tail flicking around his knees.
Scott yelped and yanked the covers up
even though he was fully clad
in brown flannel pajamas.
"What are you doing in my house?"
he demanded.
The incubus looked a bit startled,
as if something was not quite
going as he had expected.
"I'm here to fulfill your wildest dreams,"
he said. "Though I really thought
you would have been undressed by now.
People usually are before they raise
enough energy to summon me.
You must have an active imagination."
"You're here to guarantee me
the contract on the Bermuda house?"
Scott drawled. He shook his head.
"No thanks. I'd rather win on talent."
"... what?" said the incubus.
"My wildest dreams," Scott said.
"I'm working on preliminary designs
for this gorgeous house in Bermuda,
and I really think I have a shot at winning the bid,
because it's a totally green design using
mostly local materials and instead of
air conditioning the house has these arches --"
"I meant your wildest sex dreams,"
the demon specified.
"I am an incubus, not an architect.
"I don't have sex dreams," Scott said, "or sex.
I'm asexual. Sorry to disappoint you."
"Everyone has sex," said the incubus.
"I'm a sex demon. I know."
"You must have the wrong address,"
Scott said with a shrug.
"I don't have the wrong address,"
the incubus snapped.
"I am attracted to surges of passion.
You must have been doing something
that drew me into your bedroom."
"I was doing concept sketches,"
Scott said. "Here, look."
He dropped the bedspread
to pick up the controls.
The wall screen turned back on
and filled with four views of a house
rendered in delicate watercolor style,
the bottom right frame half-finished.
"That is beautiful,"
the incubus admitted.
"Thanks," said Scott.
"I still need to work on the math
and make sure the load-bearing parts
are all strong enough, but you can
at least see where I'm going with this."
The incubus sighed. "Satan
is a better mathematician than I am.
Perhaps I could show you some of his
structures for inspiration?
Since you summoned me,
I am obliged to gratify you."
"I don't think I want to plagiarize Satan,"
Scott said. "Really, I'm fine here."
"It is not for you or me to decide,"
the incubus said. "It is hell's magic."
He flicked his hands at the wall;
images of graceful red brick buildings
and wooden garden structures
appeared in a shimmer of light.
"Here, these are from human ruins,
not from Satan's palace."
"Those are exquisite arches," Scott said.
"I hadn't decided yet whether to use
rounded or pointed tops.
Ooo, and that little garden wall,
I love that too!"
So they stayed up all night,
sitting side-by-side on Scott's bed,
until the proposal was finished.
"Thank you for your help," Scott said.
"I didn't think demons were into that."
"I'm into whatever you're into,"
the incubus reminded him.
"Now I have fulfilled my obligation,
so I will take my leave."
He flicked his hands again.
Nothing happened.
"Problem?" Scott asked.
"I seem to be ... stuck,"
the incubus said, frowning.
"Could I trouble you for some charcoal?
I need to trace a transport sigil."
Scott didn't have any charcoal,
so he held a few papers to the gas stove
and produced enough for their needs.
Carefully the incubus drew out the sigil
on the smooth wooden floor of Scott's room.
Nothing happened.
"I really, really did not want
to have to do this,"
the incubus muttered
as he stripped off his red silk shirt.
"Copy the symbol on my back onto the floor."
Scott looked at the smooth skin.
"What symbol?" he said.
"What do you mean, what symbol?"
the incubus snapped.
"My service brand is the size of your hand!"
"I don't see a brand or tattoo or anything,"
Scott said. "Your skin is unmarked."
The incubus twisted around,
trying to look behind himself.
Nothing happened.
"What did you do to me?"
he demanded.
"I didn't do anything!"
Scott protested.
"You are the one
who broke into my bedroom!"
"Well now I'm stuck in your bedroom,
my service brand is apparently gone,
and my head won't turn past my shoulder!"
the incubus wailed.
"You must have done something!"
Scott began to get an uneasy feeling.
"You said that your obligation
depended on gratifying me," he said,
"and in order to do that, you're
into whatever I'm into, right?"
The incubus nodded.
"Well, I'm not into sex at all ...
what if you locked onto that
and now your magic can't change back?"
Scott said, slowly working through
the disturbing implications.
"That's impossible,"
the incubus said.
"Let's test that theory," Scott said.
"Do you feel like having sex right now?"
"Ugh, no!" the incubus exclaimed.
A look of shock crossed his handsome face.
He reached down to grope himself.
Nothing happened.
"I'm stuck, I'm disbonded,
I'm trapped in this form,
and now my cock stopped working,"
the incubus said morosely.
"Are you absolutely certain
that you didn't cast a blessing?"
"I'm agnostic," Scott said, "or I was.
I have to admit that you make
a pretty compelling argument
for the existence of hell and demons."
"Not that it does me any good,"
the incubus grumbled.
"Do you really want to go back?"
Scott asked. "Hell is supposed to be awful."
The incubus looked at him strangely.
"I ... suppose not," he said.
"I had not considered the possibility
of being anywhere other than hell.
I have nowhere else to go."
"Well, I didn't invite you here,
but I'd hate to turn you out in the street,"
Scott said. "You can sleep here today."
The incubus eyed the bed with distaste.
"Do you have a couch?" he asked.
Scott chuckled. "I have a futon.
It folds out into a bed."
So the incubus dozed on Scott's futon
while Scott slept, alone, in his own bed.
It had been a night of passion,
if not the ordinary kind,
and Scott had fond dreams
of confronting certain of his relatives
with incontrovertible proof
that this was not a phase.