I always thought the idea of delivering pizza would be cool, but I knew my current gig wasn't exactly that. Still, delivering... a service, and making other's nights, was good enough for me. I thought about that as I stepped onto the porch of the regular suburban home, looking no different to the other generic houses in the evening-lit cul-de-sac, the homely time of day where the sun had gone down but the street lights hadn't yet come on. I knocked on the front door, and heard the rustling of footsteps along with a feminine boy-ish call from inside. "One moment!" The voice said, and after some more waiting, I heard a lock behind the door click open before it swung wide. A demonic inccubi stood there, looking around twenty years old or so, which was about the age the eternal youth of inccubi always landed on. He wore lazy home clothes, baggy pajama pants and an oversized tshirt that hung loosely off his slim figure. His long hair flowed past her shoulders like dark silk; black locks fell over pale skin below full red lips painted bright pink.
He glanced at my red uniform, then back at my eyes. "You must be my order from Big Johnson's, riiiiight~?" he asked happily, eyeing up what little exposed flesh could still be seen under my tight shirt. Hitting 18 for me meant that many inccubi wanted to order me every single week because it was almost entirely in their nature to be horny teenagers who craved young meat.
"You ordered a young, ${sexpersonality} ${tone} delivery boy, with a side of aphrodisiacs and sexual endurance potions, correct?" I answered calmly while trying not to look too eager myself.
He gulped, looking incredibly eager to begin. "Yes, yes! That sounds just like what I need right now. How much do I owe you?"
"That'll be 35 dollars, please."
He hastily reached into the left pocket of his baggy, bear-patterned pajamas and pulled out two twenties, pushing them into my hands. As I went through the process of counting money and making a receipt, he hooked a finger around his bottoms, flashing me a glimpse of bare ass cheek underneath the thin fabric. "Hehe, oops. My finger slipped," he giggled nervously, quickly pulling away. He probably thinks she's pretty cute for flashing me while I process payment, but almost every inccubi tries some form of flashing or teasing when ordering a delivery man. Still, I suppose I appreciate the gesture. I like how much this job turns me into some kind of sex object for them. It feels nice being desired by others.
As soon as he was given the receipt back, he reached out and grabbed my wrist. "So... wanna come in and meet everyone else?" He simpered with giddiness, leading me into his middle-class house and straight to the room everyone was hanging out in: