Demon in the Sheets (Caption)

Like these caption stories? I post extra ones for Patrons supporting me at the $5 tier and up, over in my discord channel each week! You can find more information on how to support my writing over on my page.

So you wanted your boyfriend to be a demon in the sheets? Give your hole a real devil of a time? Well you weren’t expecting that spell you read to take itself so literally, in any case. You cast it on him, and before you even really had time to register what had happened, the fiery portal had opened up behind him, and the hands–or maybe claws and hooves would be a better word for what you saw–grabbed him and dragged him back inside, and it closed up again, your boyfriend gone, aside from the scorch marks on the carpet where he’d stood a second before.

You didn’t know what to do, but you certainly weren’t going to try casting another spell from that book. It was easy enough to cover his disappearance in the meantime–telling your friends the two of you had had a big fight, he’d left afterward, and you hadn’t seen him since. It was three full days later, and you had assumed he would be gone forever, when the portal opened back up again in your bedroom, while you were getting ready for bed, and your boyfriend stepped back out of it–only he wasn’t the same person he’d been before, and he also wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t human anymore–he was horned, his eyes burning like coals, feet and hands contorted into claws and hooves–just like the other two demons who followed him through the portal into the room. The three beasts pinned you down and started raping you, ravaging you with their massive cocks until you were exhausted, too tired to fight them, and they dragged you through the portal with them.

The police investigated later, but neither of you ever appeared again in this world–but why would you? Your boyfriend, now the rough, sexual demon, and you, his subservient worm sex slave. You’re both much happier now, I can imagine–and now, the book moves to another owner, someone else who desires power, but doesn’t quite know what they will give up to receive it.

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 5 (Part 4)

I couldn’t look at the thing anymore, and so I looked at the three men who had been drawn into its teats, watched the tentacles thicken and begin pumping the ichor into their guts, and they…swelled. I could see them writhe in pleasure, their bodies losing shape and expanding. At first I thought they were simply growing fatter, but it was more than that, they were…changing. The thing was warping them into itself, into copies, or perhaps it would simply feed them until they merged with it, drawing it into its mass, growing ever larger. I doubt it even knew what would happen–it was only driven by some singular need, not by any result or consequence. In the center of the room, Jules sat, still tied down, utterly unfazed. Whether he had expected the thing to emerge, or whether he was simply too brain dead to care, the beast seemed uninterested in him either way.

I knew I had to do something. Not because I needed to free the men it was feeding, not because I needed to protect Jules, but because there, in front of me, was the chaos. The insanity I had sensed…it was wrong. It was wrong, and had no place here, it had no place in my reality, under my control, and I felt compelled to right it, not out of a sense of justice, but out of a will to power I had never felt before. This thing…it was of a kind…with me. With me, and with Jules now, and with Ray and Cumster (though not with Bernard and Marcus, they, even then, I knew they were something else). I needed to do something, the thing inside me, the voice, it needed to do something, because this wasn’t the way it should me. I was here to bring order. I was here to control.

I…didn’t know how I did it, to be honest, the first time. I barely realized I had done anything at all. There was just the thought, the thought that something had to be done, and while I didn’t know precisely what that thing was, something in me knew. The thick leather of my right glove peeled around my hand into a strap, hanging loose from my still gloved hand, and I knew I could control it as an extension of myself. The thing noticed me then, and whether it feared me or not, it sensed what was in me, and it flung a tentacle at me, and…and I caught it in my other hand, feeling it squish between my fingers, and I nearly came standing there, the rest of the force around me not knowing what they were looking at.

No…No, let me stop for a second.

I can’t write it like this, this isn’t right. This isn’t what happened.

I write this, and it comes out like some play by play, like a boxing match or the calls of a football game. The thing did this, I did that–it wasn’t like that, in the moment. We weren’t responding to each other. I felt like we were dancing, I felt like I was alive in a way I had never experienced, I was watching myself do this…watching this leather come alive and bind itself around this monstrosity, and I felt the ache to try and contain it, and tame it, and direct it. I wasn’t fighting it, though I’m sure that’s must have been what it looked like, maybe that’s why it isn’t coming out right, why it isn’t making sense to me, reading what I wrote. I’m a man. I’m a man, trying to explain something else, something I have only experienced for a fraction of my life, something inhuman, some surreal logic to a hidden world. It was a dance. It was sex. The straps were as alive to me as my flesh, I could feel them. I wanted to drive them into the thing, I wanted to fuck it, and bind it, all at the same time. It was the same thing, really, the same act, in my mind. So no, this isn’t right. If you’re human still, reading this, if you don’t hear that voice in your mind, the oice I am hearing right now, you’ll never understand. In fact, maybe this just looks like gibberish. You might forget this, in a moment, take in each word without comprehending the entire idea. We weren’t made to see this. You weren’t made to see this, not without something changing you to be able to understand it, and remember it. Even then…even now, I don’t really know why it made sense to me, why I could even remember it.

We fought. We danced. We fucked, or at least, I tried to fuck it. Not literally, pay attention, not with my dick, but with…with these straps. Fuck, how do I even write this? Yes, with straps. Yes, it sounds that dumb, fuck, I…I’d show you, if I could, how it feels. Wrap you in them from head to toe, engulf you in them. In…in my cum too…fuck. You’d understand then, how it feels…you’d beg for more, they all…they all have.

It knew I should be stronger than it was, but that I wasn’t strong enough yet. It fled, somehow. It was too big to leave the building after all, hell, it was too big to have gotten in, looking like that, but…but maybe it hadn’t been like that, when it had been brought here. It squeezed away, out a window, I think, or the back door. It was there, and then it wasn’t, and when it wasn’t there anymore…it was like it had never been there at all.

Not…that there was no damage. Not that there were no consequences. Things were different, but they weren’t wrong. When the thing left, it left all the men it had been feeding. When it pulled the teats or tentacles, or whatever free, they were all…hideous. None of them were men anymore, not really. They had turned into blobs, too large for their uniforms, their arms and legs boneless, their faces dominated by massive, sucking mouths. Then, when it had left, they were human again, even if they weren’t the same humans as before. All of them…were fat, some of them monstrously so. One guy, the first one who had been taken, I think, back in the kitchen, he was…fuck, 500 pounds? He was 500 pounds, but his uniform fit, and we all…remembered him being that large. It was just Officer Biggs, the 500 pound juggernaut of the force, somehow still an officer despite the fact he would have never been able to pass the yearly physical. No, it didn’t make any sense, no more sense than anything I had just seen happen in the restaurant, but it was like I was watching the world’s order trying to catch up and establish control over pure, unadulterated chaos.

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 5 (Part 3)

The location Jules had sent was, for whatever reason, the address of an old, defunct restaurant, standing alone in the parking lot of a struggling strip mall. When I saw the building, I thought of the story Cumster had told me of his own capture and rape. An abandoned garage was not so different from an abandoned restaurant, I supposed, but unless Ray was the rapist himself…why would Ray bring him here? Unless, like Cumster, Ray was working with the rapist in some capacity, perhaps even unwittingly. That satisfied my instinct, at least. There was something similar in the way Ray and Cumster carried themselves, how they seemed to have developed these entire alternate personas…as opposed to Bernard, and opposed to Marcus, who both seemed consumed by failure, or something in them that was incomplete. But who was Jules? Had…Cumster warped me, in the same way Ray had warped Jules around his finger, warped him enough to convince him to walk him out of jail? I would probably walk Cumster out of prison, I supposed (but only so I could keep him in my own, where he really belongs). How was I going to help Jules when I didn’t even think I could help myself?

I arrived after the rest of the force, for the most part, and after what had happened with Ray a few days prior, they were busy setting up a perimeter and scoping out the building. No one wanted to go in without understanding what, exactly, we were dealing with this time around, or at least, no one wanted to go in besides me. I could…feel something in the building. It felt…like how I felt when I was in the middle of a case, when I was looking at the chaos of a mystery and aching to tame it into some understandable order and clarity…but more focused than that. There was something in there, something that ached for me to control it. I thought it must be Jules. After all, what else could be in there beside him, and possibly the rapist, I supposed, but I doubted he would allow himself to be found this easily.

I paced, wringing my gloved hands, waiting for everyone to get into position so we could enter. We got the all clear, and I went in first–and there, sitting in the middle of the restaurant, tied to a chair, was Jules. Or at least, I knew it was Jules from the smell of him, though he didn’t quite look like the same Jules who had left the precinct a few days ago–in the same way that I suppose I don’t look like the same Adam Hoft from a few days ago either. But it was him, nearly naked aside from some filthy jockstrap, reeking of sweat and piss, his muscles…fuck, he was jacked. It looked like he’d been working out for a whole year, and taking steroids to boot. He…looked like how I would expect Ray to make someone look, in the same way I was learning that Cumster wanted his men to look certain ways as well. But as soon as I saw him, I knew he wasn’t the chaos I had felt. There was something else in here, something…worse, not that the thought made any sense, at least, until the first fleshy…tentacle shot out from the window into the kitchen, shoved itself down an officer’s throat, and dragged him back into the kitchen, flailing in terror.

No one moved. No one could even be sure we had just seen what we’d seen. In fact, it felt like my memory was actively trying to wipe and deny it had even happened, trying desperately to explain it in any other way than what I had seen. I looked around at the other cops around me in the restaurant, hoping one of them would at least meet my eyes, confirm that whatever horror had passed in front of us was in fact there, but none of them would meet me. They were all white, and then the thing squeezed its way through the window, the sheetrock cracking and crumbling around it as we did, and I still struggled to make sense of it as a thing existing–at first, all I could see were…pieces.

It had hands. It had four hands, in fact. It was crawling, mostly, or really, dragging itself along, because of its sheer size. It had a face, or rather, it had a body with a face on it. It had a mass, really, I don’t even know if you can call it a body exactly. There was a top and a bottom. The top was covered in these pustules or sacs filled with some dark liquid, pulsing and throbbing as it came through. Somehow, they didn’t pop, they just shook and shuddered. On the bottom, were…these tentacles, or really, what my mind said, was an udder. These massive, prehensile teats hanging from its bloated, hairy, amorphous body, and the face sliding across it, too many eyes, an uncountable number, because everytime one blinked, it disappeared, the skin closing over it, another eye opened…elsewhere, but always that mouth. That massive, frog-like mouth splitting the things entire body, filled with mismatched teeth, and the bright red tongue drooling across the floor. Two more teats and forced their way into the mouths of the officers around me, before someone managed to do something, and fire their gun at it, striking one of the sacs on its back. It ruptured, the filth streaming down the side of its body, where the tongue licked it up. It smelled of burnt butter and bitter black molasses.

A Demon’s Blessing (Part 3)

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.

A Demon’s Blessing (Part 2)

The demon bent down and kissed him, sliding a forked tongue between Marcus’ lips, and he couldn’t help himself–he allowed the demon to invade him, closing the gap between them, allowing the demon to wrap its arms around him, pull him into its heat. Something…in him had changed. Something else. There was a fire inside him, a deep, aching desire for…for more. The demon toyed with him for a few minutes, teasing him with how sensitive his flesh had become, and then pushed Marcus to the wall, ass out, got down behind him, and began licking at his hole. The tongue…wormed into him, opening him up in ways Marcus had never experienced, sending his mind slowly giving way to pleasure and lust. “F-Fuck me,” he moaned, “Fuck me–change me. Give me what I want, demon.”

“As you desire, mortal,” the demon said, and stood back up, gripping Marcus’ hips with both hands, his nails digging into his skin, and he pushed the head of his cock against the mage’s hole.

This, he expected to hurt. But it did not. The cock slid right into him, like it belonged there, with such sublime pleasure that Marcus’ own cock began to spill its own stream of cum. He looked down, and saw his own cock was throbbing, and growing–and the cum…it was so bright, and white. It almost sparkled in the light of the candles around the room. The demon reached around and pumped Marcus cock, pulling him tighter, its cock sliding in deeper still. He could sense that…something was wrong, that something in him, was wrong, but everything felt so…good, that he couldn’t begin to separate anything out.

“That’s a good mage. Spill that seed, empty yourself out all over the floor. For every drop you spill, I will fill you up with twice as much–and mine is much, much more potent.”

The pain was returning, and this time was even more intense. Something else had happened to him though–he wasn’t afraid of it anymore–he was almost craving it. Every pulse of his muscles, every new layer of bone, every stretched tendon and frayed ligament. It hurt, yes, but suddenly his body received that as a deep, overwhelming pleasure. The demon’s thrusts were still fluid and smooth, sliding in and out of him like it belonged there, one hand still milking his own cock, spilling it’s beautiful seed out in a steady stream, and that fire inside him, that lust, it was growing hotter. He didn’t know how to describe it, either–it didn’t seem to have a point where it resided, beyond somewhere in his chest, like the demon had planted a red hot coal right between his lungs, or behind his heart, or down in his stomach. All he knew for certain was that it was growing more and more intense, overshadowing the pain in his muscles and bones now. “I…no, this…this isn’t right…” he moaned, and tried to gett his body to push back from the wall and get away, but all he could succeed at doing was pushing his ass back into the demon’s thrusts, feeling his own cock leaking faster.

“This is what you wanted mage, now cum. Release it all from yourself, and everything you ever wanted will come true, I swear it.”

The demon had him. Marcus didn’t know when it had happened. Perhaps it had been this entire time, the beast stringing him along, making him think he was in control. The demon was stroking faster now, and Marcus could feel his balls contracting, pumping, and he exploded with a scream. The orgasm held no pleasure for him, just a deep, soul crushing pain and terror he had never experienced before in his life. Ropes and ropes of white cum shot from the head of his cock, and with each load, he felt emptier, and weaker, and filthier, and hornier, until it finally ceased. The demon slid free, and Marcus collapsed in the midst of his own cum, his body shaking. The fire wasn’t gone. It was raging. It was burning up inside of him like an inferno, and he rolled over and stared at the demon.

“Rageroth, I banish you,” he spat–but nothing happened. The demon just stood there, inspecting the nails of one hand, and then looked down at the mage lying on the floor before it’s feet.

“My my, it seems the little mage has…lost all his mojo.”

Marcus’ eyes went wide, and he turned to the puddle of his own cum, evaporating into the air, and crawled to it, scooping some up with his fingers, but when he touched it to his tongue he let out a howl of pain, and spit it out across the wall, along with dark, bloody bile from his throat.

“Not just your mojo, of course. Your innocence. Your soul. Nothing vital, of course, nothing I can’t replace,” the demon walked over to him, “Do you feel it? The corruption inside you? It’s so very, very hungry. It’ll consume you before too much longer, leave you as pile of ash in here for some mortal to discover. Of course, I could help you–but why would I want to? You tore me from my home. Your hubris is disgusting to me, begging me to use my power to make you into a man. Well you got what you wished for–for a few hours at least.”

Marcus watched the last of his cum evaporate from the floor. He could feel it now–his magic, it was gone. The incubus had literally fucked it all out of him. Knowing the demon’s name meant nothing if he had no power to use against him–and soon, he wouldn’t have anything at all. Looking down at himself, he saw that the demon was right–he had the body of his dreams, not that it would matter much, soon enough. It was…hard to breathe, like the air in his lungs was beginning to smolder. He coughed, a bit of smoke emerged from his throat.

“You’re lucky, really,” the demon said, “While others would have found your hubris insulting, I find it…rather charming. Perhaps I should keep you as a pet–after all, you did enjoy my cock so much, and that hole of yours…while not perfect, it was really rather lovely.” Marcus tried to stand up, but the demon shoved him back down onto his knees, his massive cock inches from his face yet again. He…wanted it. He knew it would bring him no salvation, but he wanted it all the same. “So let’s make another deal, mortal. Become my sex slave, for all eternity, and I’ll spare you what I promise to be a very, horrific death. And after death as well, I should mention, since your soul is claimed by me. Perhaps, once your dead, I’ll banish you to where you were planning to send me?”

“Please…please no, I beg of you, I’ll…I’ll serve you, I’ll be your slave. Do what you want with me, I won’t fight,” Marcus said.

He looked up at the demon, who was looking down at him with a smile. “But why, little mortal? Aren’t you afraid of what I might do to you?”

Marcus shook his head, “No–No, I…I want it. I need you inside me, I can’t bear being empty anymore, please, please fill me with your cock, and your seed, twist me as you want, but I…I’m so…horny…”

A Demon’s Blessing (Part 1)

“Do we have a deal then? You know I could do much worse,” Marcus asked.

The incubus in front of him just chuckled. It was…such a sweet laugh, and Marcus felt his heart flutter slightly, but he resisted the pull. The demon would want nothing more than to trick him–he knew that, but he had prepared as best he could, guarded his mind from the various tricks it could use against him. The demon had already been impressed by his work, since he hadn’t been able to bend Marcus’ will at the first word, and have him on the bed, pleading for a rough fuck. Besides, he had the most important thing–he had the demon’s name. He could enslave it, if he wanted). He could banish it forever. He could take it apart–after all, various demonic essences could fetch a high price on the black market. But no–Marcus only wanted one thing, the one thing he’d never been able to get, and that only an incubus such as this could provide. Beauty, strength, vitality–some spells could manage it, but Marcus had no talent for them. He was a summoner, and you made do with what you had. Besides, you had to have something work with, for spells like that to function–and Marcus had little of anything. Five foot two inches, 120 pounds, frail and weak and sickly his entire life. But he wanted more.

After a moment, the incubus nodded, “Very well. I suppose I don’t have much choice, in any case. I can give you what you desire, mortal. I can give you the body and life you’ve only had in your dreams.”

“Then do it, and be gone from my sight.”

“Well, there is only one way I can do this for you, mage,” the incubus said, and slipped one red hand down its defined torso. “I’m just not sure that you’re going to enjoy it,” it thought a moment, “Actually, I know you will enjoy it quite a bit if you allow yourself the pleasure.”

Marcus had been worried about this possibility.

“After all, if you want a demon’s blessing, mortal then you’re going to have to accept a demon’s seed.”

It was too risky, he knew that. But if he backed out now, then all of the other risks he’d taken, all of this work would be wasted. Besides, he’d prepared for this. The spells of protection he cast before should be enough to withstand any…negative consequences the demon might try to sneak past his guard.

It was stroking its cock now, and leering at Marcus. The thing was…attractive, on the surface. But few things from the demonic realms were what they appeared to be, once you dug a little deeper. As Marcus watched, the lithe, muscular frame the demon had first presented him began to warp, growing larger and thicker, bulging with muscle, black hairs erupting across the chest, abs, arms and legs–and the already thick cock grew even larger. Marcus was very straight, and yet he couldn’t help but find the demon incredibly erotic. That was their design, after all, but it was no less disconcerting. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see such a thing without any protection against it. “Something like this, correct? I can see your desires, even if I can’t make you act on them. Now come. Drink.” The demon milked the cock, squeezing it and moaning, and thick cum bubbled at the head, drooling down onto the floor.

Marcus stepped forward, mentally checking all of his precautions, and then got down on his knees before the incubus. He looked up at the things dark eyes, and then took the head of the things cock in his mouth, and drank. It was hot against his tongue, and tasted sweet, with a slight bitterness, like some otherworldly nectar. He gulped it down, and it seared his throat, pooling in his stomach, the heat spreading out and infusing his body. The eat only increased, his muscles throbbing, bones aching, and he felt himself begin to grow. The pain would have been tolerable, had it been localized to a single part of his body, but he felt it everywhere. He let out a scream, opening wider, and the demon rapped two hands around his head, gently, and slid a bit more of the cock into his mouth.

“Don’t forget, mortal. You asked for this. I’m only giving you what you want.”

He choked, feeling the demon’s cum spurt from his nose and dribble down the front of his face. The flow was only increasing, and he could no longer swallow it all–it ran down the sides of his mouth and down onto his body, steaming and smoking wherever it ran. It was hotter, and with his hands, he tried to spread it out to keep it from burning him, but as he did, the cum was absorbed into him, and began to itch. Hundreds of tiny hairs erupted from his chest and arms where the cum had stuck, making him shudder and scratch at his body, eyes looking up at the demon, pleading for it to end, and the demon slipped the cock free of the mage’s mouth and stepped back.

It was all Marcus could do to stay upright on his knees, and not simply crumple up into a ball on the floor and sob. The pain was ebbing away slowly, and looking down at himself, he could see he had changed, but how much? He planted one foot under him, and then the other, pushing himself up to standing, and found himself raised to a much higher point that he had been before–but not as high as he’d wanted. He had, likely, gained about six inches–and packed on close to fifty pounds of muscle mass, with quite a lot of hair, but he was still short. He was still…small. Smaller than the demon standing a few feet away from him, observing him with a practiced air of detachment. “You seem disappointed, mortal.”

“I want more,” Marcus said. “I want to be at least as large as you are now.”

“You were begging for me to stop–it didn’t seem like you have what it takes to be with me willingly. Besides, whatever spells you’ve used to protect yourself are muting the effects. The fact that you desire it helps…but I can only do so much if you won’t allow me inside you,” the demon approached him, and ran one slender finger between the ridge of his new, hairy pecs, and watched Marcus shudder, “It does seem that you want more though–and my fate is in your hands. I can’t allow you to be displeased, now can I? It isn’t in my nature.”

Winter Vacation (Finale)

Had he been too cocky? No–he’d done his best, he was sure of it. Nate looked around the kitchen, at every surface covered with the remnants of their massive breakfast, knowing he should eat more, knowing that he had to eat more, if he was going to win, but he just…he just couldn’t do it. Brett just smelled…so fucking good–he dove back into his brother’s pit, while Brett cleaned off another plate from the pile, and let off a long belch before leaning back against the wall, and allowing his little brother better access to his massive, stinking, sweaty body.

He had to be at least ten feet tall now–too large to be able to stand up in the house, at this point–if he even could stand. It had been about halfway through the meal, that Brett was certain he was going to lose, after all. He’d been trying to move from the table to the island, in search of more to eat, when he’d felt his legs buckle under his own weight, and he’d collapsed–and been unable to get himself back up. Nate had just laughed at him, stuffing his face, their daddy looking on the scene from near the stove. He’d been doing so well, he’d nearly passed Nate entirely…but now, if he couldn’t get to the food, what was he going to do?

Daddy had offered him a deal–one he’d…been reluctant to take, but now…now he understood. He’d felt his daddy’s demonic essence flow into him, and he’d started to change, the filth pouring from him, soaking him down from head to toe. He reeked now, but not like before. It was…inhuman. He was inhuman, he could feel the thing burning inside him, burning him away, but it didn’t matter. He was big now. He was the big brother, and he always would be. As soon as Nate had smelled his intense scent, he’d been helpless–and rather than stuff himself, he’d started focusing only on feeding his filthy brother, as much as he wanted, worshiping him and his stink when he had enough food to focus on, helping him balloon larger and larger, his belly heaving out with every plate until it covered his legs, which had seemed to be…shrinking. In fact, Brett couldn’t feel his legs anymore at all–he…he didn’t need them.

He leaned forward, feeling new sets of muscles in his massive belly contracting, and sliding him across the floor like a massive slug, leaving a putrid, stinking trail of filth behind him, which Nate could no longer resist. He picked it up, feeling it dry in his hands into a tacky mass–he hauled the dip from his cheek and wedged some of his brother’s filth in instead, and it tasted so…foul, he came, spurting a massive load of cum across the floor as thick, black drool ran down into his beard.

“What do you say, little bro?” Brett asked.

“Thank…thank you…big bro.”

“If you really want to say thank you, get over here and let your nasty big bro fuck that hole of yours, like a good boy.”

Brett’s cock had changed as well–nearly a foot long, the head shaped like a spade, and…prehensile. It wormed into Nate’s hole with incredible ease, and he could feel it…squirming about inside him, his brother gripping him tight in his strong, flabby arms, thrusting deep until he came, flooding him with thick, gloppy cum, and then pulling free, Nate collapsing, feeling both utterly violated, and supremely grateful at the same time.

“That’s very good son, I’m so proud of you,” their daddy said, walking over to Brett, “Now, go up to your room for a while–let me and Nate have a little…father son chat.”

Brett slid from the room and upstairs, where he found the entire upper floor had melded together into a single, massive, cavernous space, all of it reeking of him. He relaxed, allowing his slime to spread, wondering what his daddy had in mind for his little brother.

“Please daddy, I’m sorry. Don’t…don’t punish me, I tried…” Nate said, as his daddy helped him up. He was eight feet tall now, his gut sagging low, but unlike his brother, much of the weight he’d gained was muscle. He was so wide, he would struggle with most normal doorways for the rest of his life.

“Now now, I’m proud of you too, boy. You have a role here, as well. The most important role.”

Nate looked up at him. “Are…are you going to change me too?”

His daddy shook his head. “No–No, you are the first, the leader. The missionary. You need to go out into the world, and bring us more men–men who will join you in blissful, eternal service to your demonic lords of the house–and to you, of course. You will always be first among them, my chosen one.

Nate nodded in understanding, and worshiped his daddy’s–his demonic lord’s–cock for the first time, reveling in its taste and glory, and when he was finished, he got on his hog, and rode down into town, where he sidled up to the bar, and sized up the men around him, looking for the first men to join his daddy’s fledgling cult. He didn’t have his brother’s stench to compel their minds, but he was strong–he overwhelmed a couple of hunters, bound them up, and drove them home in their own truck, where his daddy was waiting for them on their porch. He was pleased–and a week later, the two hunters were eagerly thanking their new master Nate in the garage, cleaning his feet and licking foul, black spit from his belly like the hungry pigs they’d become.

–END–