A blaring alarm clock began to beep. It was situated on a lightly charred bedside table beside what might have at one time been a bed, but currently was more of a mound of assorted sheets and pillows that arguably had room for an occupant. After thirty seconds of sleepy frustrated moans, a slim, red-skinned arm emerged from the tangle of mismatched linens and slapped the button, ending the irritating sound.

With a bleary look, a shapely figure tumbled out of bed. She fumbled in an ashtray beside the clock and plucked up the stub of a fat red cigar. A few clumsy snaps of her fingers flared its tip to life, and she drew in a long, pleasant puff.

"Another day, another dollar," she said with another yawn, pulling open the drawer of the end table to retrieve a ratty stack of pages.

Tucking them under one arm, she paced up to the full length mirror beside the door. She grinned around the cigar and gave a little turn, pleased with what she saw. She was a buxom young thing: plump and inviting hips, a nicely shaped rump, and breasts that would proudly and amply fill a D cup. Her skin was red from head to toe, and thanks to her skimpy getup, quite a bit of it was visible. She was wearing a scandalously small bikini, the same black as her fingernails and lips. As she yawned and stretched, fluttering the batlike wings on her back, she shook her little tush and gave it a slap.

"Still looking tasty as ever," she said, but then she frowned. "Ugh. The hair could use some work."

Her long, green hair was in a bit of a tangle, wrapped comically around her massive, crooked horns. After raking her fingers through her hair enough to fight her coif into submission, she plucked a stylish black beret from the hook beside the mirror and perched it between her horns.

"There, perfect."

Without bothering to put on a scrap more clothes, she strutted out her front door and slammed it behind her. Her house was nothing to look at, a bit of a dump is she was honest, but that didn't bother her much. It was just a place to sleep, since she spent most of her time working. As she sauntered down her front path, she stroked her fingers lovingly along the ornate body of her prized possession. It was a cannon, positively demonic in appearance and large enough to be the star of a human cannonball attraction at a particularly infernal circus. As threatening as it looked, its main purpose was as a means of transportation. A succubus had to have her fun, after all, and the souls on earth were so much more fun to toy with than those here in hell. A blast to the mortal realm every now and then kept her relaxed and sane.

There was no time for that, though, because today was a shooting day, and they certainly couldn't start shooting without the director. Although... the studio was fairly far away, and she didn't relish the idea of flying or walking the whole way without so much as a cup of coffee to take the edge off...

Before she could change her mind, she cranked the cannon to a far shallower angle and dumped in about a thousandth of the usual charge. Fitting a fuse, she flicked her fingers until it began to sizzle, then flitted up and slid down into the barrel. Once inside, she took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of char and brimestone.

A cacophonous blast sent her rocketing out the barrel of the cannon and screeching through the air. Her aim wasn't quite true, but shifting her wings in flight guided her like a missile, and when she was over the studio, she spread them wide to catch the air and bring her to semi-graceful stop. When she arrived on set, she found the production was just about ready for her.

"Good to see you boss. Nice to see you still rocking that bikini," said a small, sniveling voice.

She glanced down to see a two foot tall goblin of a creature, all lanky limbs, flappy wings, and lashing tail. It was an imp, one of a race of creatures who were more or less born to serve greater demons like succubi as best they could.

"Shut up, Mort," she said, turning around and plopping down into her director's chair.

The chair was one of those elaborate, crane-mounted numbers favored by big budget directors. Considering the subject matter of her films, one wouldn't have expected something so professional. A succubus, naturally, was only really suited for directing porn, but porn took on a whole new meaning in hell. The place was populated by the greatest sinners of the world, so the appetite for pornography was utterly ravenous, and the tastes of the audience were orders of magnitude beyond what mortals could comprehend.

"Take me up!" she said, chomping her cigar a little tighter.

Mort went to work on the knobs and cranks that operated the crane. With jerky, sudden motions that threatened to eject her, she was hoisted into a vantage that gave her a fine view of the sprawling set.

Unlike the two or three people who would star in a typical mortal porn scene, there were already six people on the set, with two more dropping their robes to join in. The actors and actresses were all demons of some description, varying in size from normal human to titanic giant, but all ravishingly attractive and quite well equipped for the task at hand.

"Okay, today we're shooting pages six through ten. That's the three way that turns into an eight way, then into two four ways, and then into a two way with a three way going on inside each participant. Everyone got that?"

There was a murmur of agreement and a few titters and giggles.

"Okay, good. Can we get a fluffer on Grim over there? He's sort of at half-mast. Okay... Okay, good. And... Action!"

Immediately, chaos erupted on the set, with every conceivable pairing actors and actresses knotting themselves up into a tangle of thrusting hips, throbbing rods, heaving bosoms, and glistening vaginas. She barked orders, and puffed on her cigars, directing cameras and shouting lines. A hellish porn set looked more like a riot than a performance, but she was the best in the business, and knew how to get her shots no matter what.

"Okay Mort, up... Up higher... I want to see what Barb is up to... Where's Jonah? ... Inside Jessica!? ... That's not until page eight, people, focus. ... Bren, shove your hand up there and pull him out. And don't you get sucked in too, let's not get any further ahead of ourselves than we already are..." she cried.

Mort desperately tried to keep the chair where she wanted it, but she was perpetually changing her mind and requesting drastic readjustments.

"Mort, closer... Closer, damn it... I SAID CLOSER!" she growled.

"Yes Boss!" The frazzled imp said.

Spinning the appropriate wheel as hard as he could, he thought he would send her swinging forward. Unfortunately, in his haste, he spun it in the wrong direction, causing the chair to swing back. This not only took his boss far from the action, but caused her to slip from the seat. She scrambled, fluttering her wings and spinning before finally managing to grab the seat. Kneeling on it, she bent over the back of the chair and glared down at her assistant.

"Mort... When I say closer, I mean CLOSER!" she shrieked.

"Sorry boss! Closer, coming right up!"

He reared back and kicked the wheel, spinning it in the correct direction with dizzying speed. The arm supporting the chair shifted forward like the end of a catapult. When it finally stopped, the impatient succubus did not. Her momentum carried her in a butt-first flight straight toward the tangle of flesh she'd been directing. Jessica, one of the larger female stars, had her mouth open wide to receive the equipment of Bren, one of the larger male stars. What she got instead was a mouthful of director.

*GACK* *SQUELCH* *GLUCK*

The director felt the lips of her star stretch wide slipping around her firm ass and sending her sliding into the hot, wet interior of her mouth. Having been launched fairly forcefully, it didn't stop there. Momentum caused her lips to glide up the smooth, shapely thighs of the director, folding her tightly in half and lodging the delectable succubus's hind quarters in her throat.

Jessica, despite being one of the stars of this feature, was rather new. She'd not yet gotten her gag reflex under control, so with the succubus lodged in her throat, she panicked and swallowed. A wave of hot, wet muscles contracted around the director's butt and dragged it further down the throat, causing her upper body to slip into the actresses mouth. After her bountiful breasts plopped onto Jessica's tongue and only the succubus' head and feet remained she gagged and swallowed once more. With a pop, the director's head slipped between her lips and her whole writhing form went down Jessica's throat.

The other actors gathered around and scratched their heads. Jessica was larger than the director, but not by much, so there was still a wriggling, easily identifiable female form bulging out her midsection.

"Uh... Boss... Should we stop?"

~~~

Inside the stomach, the director found herself somewhat distracted. The hot, slick muscle was embracing every curve of her flesh and stroking and rubbing at her in all the right ways.

"Mmm... Oh..." she murmured pleasantly.

"Boss?" came the voice from the outside.

She shook her head and snapped out of it.

"What?"

"Should we stop?"

She took a long drag on her cigar, filling the tight stomach with a dull red glow. She was still clutching the script, and by the light of the cigar, she could read it.

"Keep rolling. We're on page seven, and I'm not waiting for you to squeeze me out. We'll be into overtime by then. We'll dub some lines about Jessica ordering a sexy lunch or something like that. Now come on! Action!"

Knowing better than to disobey, the actors got back to work. It was a little difficult to direct while inside one of the stars, as the humping and jiggling not only made the script hard to read, but made it hard to concentrate. The distant gurgle and squelch of a nearby oriface being serviced was quite a turn on, and having the sensual caress of her star's insides clutching at her was enough to push her over the edge nearly as many times as those on camera.

The shooting day dragged on, and the vigorous motion helped jostle the director until the tight muscular ring beneath her slid open and she was extruded down into the far tighter tube of Jessica's intestines. Further into her star as she was, she had to yell to be heard, and the intestines were so tight she nearly lit the script on fire twice trying to read it by the cigar's light.

Waves and pulses of muscle massaged her along as the pages peeled away. Finally, she was on the last page, and she could feel her feet pushing against Jessica's tightly clenched back door. Since they prided themselves on providing their actors with the very best of craft services, Jessica had eaten fairly well that day even before snacking on her boss. That meant the air in this section of her insides was... fragrant to say the least.

The director puffed her cigar to turn up the light, but found its flame was burning rather blue, a sure sign of methane. That wasn't likely to end well...

"Okay, okay. Last minute rewrite. Jessica, you're going to do a Cleveland Steamer on Dennica's chest. Got that?"

"I don't really know if I can do that right now, boss," Jessica fretted.

The director's cigar began to spark and flare. "You don't really have a choice about it Jess... and... acti--!"

*FBFBFBFBBBBBBBOOOOOM* *SPLUT*

The muscles around the director's slick, drenched body squeezed and pulsed as the gas inside Jessica exploded. She felt her feet begin to slip into the cool air, rapidly propelled by the explosive flatulence she'd triggered. Jessica fired her boss out between her cheeks and, once her head was free, sent her slapping wetly into the pillowy breasts of their largest star.

"And... Cut!"

Her moist, fragrant body slid down between the sweat-slicked breasts of Dennica, causing her final words to be muffled.

"That's a wrap, people!"