Sallie May

You weren’t a bad person. That was the cruelest part of it all. You were naïve. Soft-hearted. Loyal to a fault. The kind of person who would take a punch meant for someone else and apologize for bleeding on the floor. So when they screwed up. Like when your friends crossed a line so violently stupid it ruined lives. Unfortunately you didn’t hesitate. You took the blame.

You thought honesty, or sacrifice, or love would save them. Instead, it signed your death warrant.

The trial was fast. Too fast. The judge didn’t look at you long enough to see the truth. The jury didn’t care. Public opinion had already decided what you were: guilty, irredeemable, disposable. When the sentence was read. It was death by electric chair your knees buckled, not because you were afraid to die……but because the people you protected wouldn’t even meet your eyes.

The chair hurt more than you thought it would. The smell of burning metal. The taste of copper. The way your muscles locked so hard it felt like your soul itself was being wrung out. And then darkness.

No tunnel. No light. No peace. Just heat. You woke up screaming. Hell didn’t look how you expected. No endless pits of fire. No rivers of lava swallowing souls whole. Instead, it was a city. It was massive, choking, alive. Skyscrapers clawed at a red-orange sky that pulsed like an infected wound. Neon signs flickered in languages you didn’t recognize, advertising sins like they were casual hobbies.

You looked down at yourself. Not you anymore. Your skin was a different shade now. It was unnatural, warm to the touch. Small horns curved from your head. A tail flicked behind you when you moved, responding to emotions you hadn’t even learned yet. Your body was unmistakably demonic… and unmistakably female.

You staggered through the streets in a daze. Everywhere you looked, it was excess. Porn studios operating out of old warehouses. Drug deals happening in the open like grocery shopping.

Demons laughing too loudly, too cruelly. Violence wasn’t hidden. God it was entertainment. And towering above it all were the reminders that this place had rules enforced by something far worse.

Extermination days. You saw the aftermath before you ever saw the angels themselves buildings reduced to rubble, streets stained black with ash where sinners had been erased completely. Not punished. Not redeemed. Deleted.

Fear settled deep in your chest. You couldn’t stay here. But Hell didn’t exactly come with an instruction manual. You wandered. Hours passed. maybe days.

Time felt warped, stretchy, unreliable. Hunger gnawed at you in a way that wasn’t physical so much as existential, like your soul itself needed fuel. You realized quickly that just existing here required money. Rent. Food. Protection.

Hell was capitalism with fangs. You thought about who you used to be. What you could do. Skills didn’t vanish with death, apparently. Work was work, even damned work. Maybe you could survive. Maybe you could save enough to find a way out. Well if such a thing even existed.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the eyes on you. Then

“Hey you! Bubble butt!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. The voice was unmistakably Southern. It was smooth, confident, and feminine as hell. It carried over the noise of the street like it belonged there. Your face heated instantly as you spun around.

Leaning casually against a fence was a tall demon woman with curled horns, a sharp grin, and a presence that felt… grounded. Real. Like she wasn’t trying to sell you anything. Well not yet. Her eyes dragged over you openly, unapologetically.

“Yeah, sugar,” she said, smirking wider. “You. Ya look lost as a calf in a thunderstorm.”

It hit you. Sallie May. You’d heard whispers already. A rancher. A businesswoman. One of the few demons who paid fair wages and didn’t gut you for breathing wrong. You swallowed and nodded, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you probably looked.

She pushed off the fence and stepped closer.

“Tell ya what,” she said, voice lowering just a bit. “I got a ranch outside the city. Me and my family always need extra hands. Hard work, but honest work. Well, honest by Hell standards.”

Your heart leapt. A job. Shelter. Stability. She tilted her head, eyes glinting with something playful.

“We pay pretty damn good too~”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding again. Money was money. Survival was survival. But Sallie May wasn’t done. She leaned in just enough that you could smell smoke and hay and something warm underneath it all.

“…However,” she added, drawling the word out “I’d be willin’ to pay you double…”

Your breath caught.

“…if you’d be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widened.

Every thought in your head slammed into a wall at once. You stood there, freshly damned, broke, scared, still far too innocent for this place and a powerful demon woman was offering you safety, affection, and an escape from the streets… at a price you didn’t know how to measure.

Hell was cruel. But sometimes, it didn’t ask if you deserved kindness. It just dared you to take it.

So eventually some weeks passed as you worked on that farm. It was indeed hard work but it was honest work as you did get paid.

(Double since you were dating Sallie May. Cause hey. Double Money. Double the Honey)

But dating Sallie May wasn’t that bad. She didn’t just date you to pity you. She wanted to date you cause she did genuinely need a partner. She needed a gal in her life and you were definitely the one.

Yes. She was teasing and such. Calling you bubble butt and such.. but.. she didn’t wanna go too far. Not yet.

Now. Timeskip time.

You and Sallie have been dating for 4 months and you love each other very much. So one day.

You and Sallie are cuddling in her bed when she suddenly starts dry humping into your ass

“Nngh.. ya got a fatass hun..~” She says teasingly while still humping you, and she's obviously horny as fuck rn.. “No wonder why I called you bubble butt. Fuck.. come on baby.. let’s have some fun..~”