Kyle Saunders stared at his reflection and swore he could see the shadowy outline of his other half’s wings, black membrane stretching as they spread open behind him. The muscles between his shoulders twitched, itching for the chance to move, to make the image a reality. Just as his head ached where the shimmering after-image of black horns poked out from his temples. And in the full length mirror, he could see the ghost of a tail, barbed tip flicking above the carpet. 

He wished the dark bags under his eyes were also an illusion. Four years earlier, when the demon, Ryka, had first taken up residence in his body, his appearances had been infrequent and always short-lived. In recent months, however, Ryka had been coming out nearly every night, and keeping control of Kyle’s body for hours on end. It was starting to take its toll.

Two or three hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough, and waking with a hangover certainly wasn’t helping. It was no wonder that his students walked all over him. With a heavy sigh, he glanced at the stack of papers he still had to correct, realizing he would likely never be given a chance to even skim through them. Just one more thing for the tenth graders he taught to harass him about. 

Sometimes, he was almost tempted to let Ryka out in class. Sprouting wings, horns, and a tail would doubtless stop the constant chatter, the spitballs, and all the other expressions of disrespect that he tolerated on a daily basis. 

All you have to do is say my name, a gravelly voice whispered in his head. You know the words. 

“It seems that now, all I have to do is think them,” Kyle replied. His lips curled into a wicked smile. It wasn’t one of his, either. “Again tonight? I have work to do.”

And I have drinking to do.

“If I get fired, I won’t be able to afford more beer.” There was no answer. Logic wasn’t always Ryka’s strong suit. The only thing that ever seemed to concern Ryka was his own pleasure. Kyle was just glad Ryka knew he shouldn’t leave the house when he was in control of Kyle’s body. Instead, Kyle found himself spending most of his paycheck on beer, liquor and cigarettes. Porn, at least, was free. 

Knowing there was no way he could fight Ryka and win, Kyle decided to just give in. “Can I at least have tomorrow night? I have so much correcting to do.” Again, Ryka didn’t reply. Shaking his head, Kyle took off his glasses and set them on the table. 

Get back in front of the mirror. Watching this never gets old. 

“The transformation?”

No, stud, watching you take your clothes off.

“Please don’t call me ‘stud.’ And stop talking like that.” Verbal arguments were the only kind he could make. He could feel Ryka’s will overpowering his own. He took off his shirt, folded it, and left it on the arm of the couch. Blushing, he stood, helpless, in front of the mirror, awaiting his now nightly transformation. The one positive thing he could say about sharing his body with a demon was the vast improvement it had made in his overall appearance. 

He had never considered himself unattractive, but Ryka was nothing if not vain, and had molded Kyle’s body into something he could be proud of. Kyle hadn’t been to the gym in years, but it looked like he worked out daily, every muscle perfectly defined. Which was incredible, given how much alcohol and junk food Ryka typically consumed. Kyle himself tried to still eat well, though the demon had assured him again and again that calories were calories, and would keep Kyle alive no matter how little - or how much - he ate.

His physique hadn’t been the only change. Before their meeting, Kyle had kept his hair short. Neat and out of his way. Now, his face was framed by glossy, wavy, black locks. Long enough to nearly reach his chin, but not long enough to be pulled back.  He thought he looked more like a rock star than a history teacher. 

Not to mention all the other things I’ve improved for you. Even without his glasses, Kyle could see his blush deepen in his reflection. 

“What was wrong before?” 

Not big enough.

“You’re the only one who uses it.”

I don’t have to be. I’m sure we could work something out.

“That’s enough,” Kyle scolded, flinching away from the mirror and the hungry gaze that stared back at him.

Fuck you, too. You can forget about tomorrow night.

Before Kyle could argue, he could feel his eyes roll back in his head. And he knew that, when they found what they were looking for inside him, and finally rolled back, they’d be as red as fresh-spilled blood. 

Just as Ryka could see out through his eyes, Kyle could see out through Ryka’s. He wouldn’t admit it to the demon, but it was rather fascinating watching his body transform. With a grimace that revealed a mouthful of pointed teeth, Kyle/Ryka keeled forward. He growled as leathery wings erupted from between his shoulders. Panting, he looked up into the mirror in time to watch two small horns push out through the skin just above his temples. 

“Strip all the way next time, damn it,” Ryka ordered in a voice much deeper and rougher than his host’s. He had managed to finish getting undressed just before his tail had grown out. Cursing under his breath, he kicked aside Kyle’s pants. At least Kyle had thought to close the blinds. “Did you hear me?”

Kyle didn’t bother to reply. Even if he did, Ryka would likely just ignore him. Although Kyle had no way to stop the demon from intruding in his thoughts, it seemed that Ryka was quite adept at blocking out Kyle. 

After spending a few minutes admiring his reflection - the demon’s eyesight was perfect, unlike his host’s - Ryka started for the kitchen. “Seriously? Only two fucking beers left?” Grumbling, he grabbed them both before slamming the fridge door closed. “You’d better go shopping tomorrow.” 

Yes, Ryka. I would’ve gone today, but since I had to send half the class to detention, they wanted me to stay and help watch the kids. Staying after school to help students who needed to catch up or who were looking to advance their studies had never bothered him – he was glad to do it. But having to stay and babysit a roomful of delinquents was something else entirely.

“Those little bastards,” the demon snarled, setting his drinks down next to Kyle’s glasses on the coffee table. “You should let me talk to them.”

I don’t think that would be a very good idea. 

“I disagree. It would be fun, too. And don’t lie. I know how much you despise some of them.” As he spoke, Ryka again moved to stand in front of the mirror. His tail lashed back and forth as he studied himself, forcing Kyle to do the same. “Like what you see?” Ryka leered. 

Kyle wished he could force Ryka’s gaze away - it made him uncomfortable, this level of scrutiny. And his discomfort only served to arouse the demon. 

“Tell me, stud, just how much do you enjoy watching this?” he asked, grinning. Even if Kyle hadn’t known Ryka’s intentions, there wouldn’t have been time to ask what “this” was before Ryka was on his knees, one hand on the wall while he stroked himself with the other. 

This may come as a shock, but not at all.

“Bullshit. You can’t fool me.” 

In recent weeks, Ryka’s general attitude and behavior had done a complete one-eighty. Gone were the polite requests to be summoned out - now they were cruel demands. His once quiet and patient parasite was snarky and bitter, temper inflamed by the slightest inconvenience. Junk food binges had been replaced by all-night boozing marathons. And the once reverently spoken moniker “Master” had been replaced by his new nickname, one Kyle was too embarrassed to even think too loudly. 

Since being possessed by an immortal demon made Kyle immune to physical ailments, he didn’t mind too much about the smoking and drinking, except when Ryka fell asleep with a beer in his hand and it spilled. It was the sudden need for almost constant sexual gratification that disturbed him. Disturbing because, as much as the demon liked perusing what seemed to be a near-infinite supply of online porn, he enjoyed pleasuring himself in front of the mirror even more.

“Prude,” Ryka sneered. “Or are you just jealous because I can go all night?” Kyle had learned early on exactly where the phrase “demon in the sack” had originated. It would take Ryka at least an hour to climax, then he’d smoke a cigarette - a process that took him about thirty seconds - and start all over. 

“You know, stud, even when this body’s mine, I still like to pretend it’s yours I’m touching.” With a sigh, Ryka leaned his head back. But of course, he was still smirking, very much focused on his reflection. 

Please don’t ever say anything like that ever again. And I mean ever. And for the last time, please stop calling me ‘stud.’

“Aw, come on. I know you think about me this way, too.”

I most certainly do not.

“Liar.”

Kyle just didn’t know how to argue.