The incubus did nothing to disguise it’s true cum, now, when Marcus again swallowed the head of his cock. It tasted vile, the texture was thick like sludge, coating the inside of his mouth and throat, but as horrific as it was, Marcus didn’t care. Marcus…wanted this, more than anything now. The demon taunted him, beat him, made him beg and plead over and over again, until at last, it pinned him to the floor and raped his hole, viciously. The cock no longer slid into him with ease–every thrust was rough, like the shaft was coated in sandpaper and razors, and the more seed he took in, the more he felt himself change.
It lasted for days–weeks, perhaps. Marcus had lost all sense of time. Occasionally, the demon would stop for a moment and drag him over to the mirror–or not stop, simple fuck him in front of it, where he could see himself, see his body losing its humanity slowly. The fire inside him continued to rage, but now, guided by the incubus, it was only consuming the parts of whim which were becoming…unnecessary, charing away his lungs and heart–it was the flame that would keep him alive now. His skin blistered, and began to peel away in long, agonizing strips. The incubus would pin him down, riding Marcus’ cock for a moment, and strip them away, revealing the raw, rough demonic flesh and skin forming beneath. Still, for the moment, he remained human–mostly. The demon, however, had other plans in mind, now that the foundation had been laid.
He did it slowly. Slowly, so Marcus could truly experience every excruciating moment, as the incubus began warping and twisting his body, molding it to something that would be designed only for the demon’s pleasure–but what this demon found pleasurable was beyond the human scope of reason, Marcus discovered. He broke. He found himself craving it, needing the torture and and pain just to feel anything at all, and the demon was perfectly willing to give it to him. The bones–they were the worst, especially when the spurs, spikes and horns began to emerge from his skin. He bled sticky ichor all over the room, which the demon eagerly licked up. When he finished, Marcus discovered he could no longer stand–not the way he had before, as a man at least. His back was permamently hunched over, his legs shorter, his arms longer–and he found himself walking on his knuckles, arms bowed and packed with muscle, spines and razor sharp bone blades emerging all over him. When he hugged his Master, piercing the incubus–and himself in the process, it was…divine pleasure, and Marcus could scarcely believe he’d ever imagined, as a man, that he could feel anything so beautiful in his life.
His cock was next on the demon’s list, and he sculpted it, coaxing a bone from Marcus’ pelvis to grow through the entire length, skewering it slowly from the inside until it emerged from the tip, barbed–and kept growing, his cock growing along with it. More spines emerged from the new bone, as the flesh grew thick, the skin rough and scaly, and the spurs bent into hooks pointing both backwards and forwards, ensuring that whenever Marcus fucked a hole of any kind, it would bleed, tearing apart the flesh in the most splendid of ways–as Marcus did to his Master, that night, fucking him for the first time, making a new hole and driving his cock right into the incubus’s chest, plunging his cock into the seering heat at the center of him, roaring in pain and delight even as the incubus coughed dark bile onto his chest, demanding more, always more.
He healed amazingly fast–and a few hours later, he was ready again, expanding his balls, and then he told Marcus there was only one last thing that remained–his face. He wanted Marcus to watch it happen, wanted him to witness the demon warping and twisting his visage until nothing of his old self remained…and Marcus was glad to see it go. It was…too terrifying, seeing his mostly human head upon this monstrous frame. He didn’t want that mortality anymore–he’d found something so much…better now.
He began with the jaw, stretching it wide, tearing at his cheeks, ripping out each tooth, one at a time, and drawing razor sharp fangs from within his gums. Gripped his tongue, and pulled it longer and longer, corded with muscle, until it could extend two feet long, and was fully prehensile, six inches perpetually dangling from his lips. His mouth and nose became a short snout, eyes, pushed out, yellow and black, made for seeing in the dark pits of the hellscape his master called home. His hair disappeared, and two massive, cruel horns emerged from his skull, and with that, he was complete. But to Marcus’s horror–he was still there. He could still remember what he’d been–who he’d been–but it became like a shadow to him, a constant humiliation. A horror to his current self, that he, this monstrous beast, could have ever been so weak, and on the other the sickening knowledge of how far he had fallen, and how much further there was to fall, a deep abyss all around him into which he was plunging, deeper and deeper, with no end in sight. His master embraced him, and he felt himself pulled down, deep into darkness, until they landed in the demonic realms–where Marcus was now bound for all eternity.
There, the incubus introduced him to its other pets of various shapes and sizes, all of them once mortals as well. He is still there, worshiping his master, fucking the other pets for the incubus’ amusement, and on occasion, going with it back to the mortal world to punish, or seduce, some unwitting mage or other, who thought they too, could control the demon’s power for their own ends. They never could–Marcus could see how easily his master destroyed each of them. He suspected, it brought him along to watch just to see how easily he, too, had been defeated. To know what he’d been reduced to. To know that there was no way back for him, to redemption.
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