Author’s note: Please note all characters are over eighteen years of age (and in some cases hundreds of years old!). Any feedback/rating is greatly appreciated!
The author claims all copyrights to this story. No duplication or publication of this story is permitted without the expressed consent of the author.
The interruption
In the dark sunken land on a black barren field, two giant mosquitos sparred. In the distance the souls of the dead hung from the branches of yellow and brown desiccated palm trees. A golden fly crept over one of the hanging spirit’s dry and cracked lips. These souls watched with empty, cloudy eyes as two strange spiritual incarnations of insect-life, having taken monstrous supernatural form, wielded their proboscises like swords. Large plates of exoskeletal bone formed a distinctly patterned mosaic of armour, with smaller plating articulating their long heads and necks atop a segmented body. One mosquito was a dusty silver, with thick tufts of grey hair jutting from her casing. The other had a white lyre-shape across the back of her black thorax, and a gold crown. There was something almost balletic about the way these creatures battled, their long stilt legs lightly scuttling, kicking up clouds of ashy dust. They resembled two male deer fighting for dominance. But instead of branching trees of bone, these creatures each duelled with a single scale-coated mouth shaft. A sword fight, of sorts. But at one point their long legs, tipped with powerful claws, locked and twined. Their bodies were brought together into one tight mass of armour. With one well-timed jab the silvery fighter sent the other feebly flailing onto her back.
“Vexan, you ass-filling, cock-sucking slut!” the victor boomed, her proboscis acting as resonator for her aggressive roar.
“Stephensi, please no!” Vexan begged.
But before Stephensi could jab Vexan in a soft gap between her bodily sections, Jason’s own longsword swept down and sliced off the attacker’s mouthparts. For even with the wide vision of her compound eyes, in the clouds of sooty dust Stephensi had failed to spot Jason magically materialising behind her with a burst of smoke. Stephensi screamed, pissing blood from her castrated maw. Her foreclaws helplessly dithered in front of her mutilated face. Jason stabbed her blood-filled abdomen and watched the red diluted contents spill on the dirt of the barren field. Stephensi’s weeping, mouthless face slumped into the dark blood-soaked soil, her shrieks soon withering away.
Jason threw down his sword and leapt onto Vexan. He held several of Vexan’s limbs down with his own strong arms and legs, despite being smaller than her.
“Why didn’t you come back?” he growled.
“I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” She seemed to be telling the truth.
He slipped off his loincloth. His penis was red, swollen and twitching. “Wait Jason” she whispered.
But in that moment Jason dripped and trailed sticky lines of pre-ejaculate over her thorax, and she couldn’t resist but to let her limbs wrap around him, her legs curling inward like a belly-up spider poisoned by bug spray. He began kissing and licking her hairy, dribbling tube mouth, like a desperately thirsty dog lapping up a dripping hose. The taste of her saliva, heavily laced with a strange, magical aphrodisiac, sent his head spinning.
Jason could feel another sinuous appendage running between his firm buttocks, curling tightly around his waist, his chest. It had a different texture to Vexan’s other extremities. It was cool to the touch, hairless and smoothly scaled. It felt like a tentacle or tail rather than a segmented, jointed leg. As Jason kissed Vexan’s thick lips, he wondered if perhaps Vexan possessed a worm-like phallus somewhere on her underside, which she had kept shrunken and tucked out of sight until now. But then the limb tore naked Jason away from Vexan, lifting his flailing, aroused body high up into the air. He could see Vexan splayed on the ground below, screaming in protest. Valga’s tail slithered away with him firmly ensnared, down into her vast network of caves.
Morgag meets his match
King Morgag the Heinous
loved a deep throat
and a tight anus,
of one thing he did gloat;
whoring men and women gab
“I gagged more with Morgag!”
– Olde English Rhyme
Julius, Jason’s young sidekick, was a demon hunter in training and a beautiful youth of nineteen. For scholarship, for bodily grace and for battle accomplishments, the fearless boy-sensation had no superior among the youths of his age. Beardless with longish hair crowning his head and curling around his ears, he was one of the few young men who could rival musclebound Jason in beauty, although his dusky-skinned figure, whilst still rippling fit and supple, was lither and smaller. Here was another rare example of when physical beauty mirrored moral virtue. Yet somehow the darksome squire’s innocent heart was even more beautiful than his face. He idealised the slightly older Jason, and in an attempt to emulate his teacher had bleached his thick, jet-black hair blond. Just one night after King Morgag had savoured the pleasure of sodomising Jason, a light flickered under Julius’s bed, like that of a fire.
Two knobbly red hands quietly slid out from under the bed and dug into the carpet, dragging out the long body that followed. Having tumbled onto the bed after performing his nightly ablutions, the athletic do-gooder had started to drift off to sleep. The colours of demon species can vary depending on whether they dwell near the roof of the underworld or lower down. Morgag’s deep red colouration provided an extraordinary display in the flames of upper hell or in the lights of the human world, and in his natural habitat – a region running with vast rivers of blood – his striking red colouration camouflaged him to his prey. But in the thick blackness of that moonless night on earth, the demon was virtually imperceptible. Another advantage he possessed was the ability to emit infrared light from his eyes, to shine this red light on his prey, with other predators, competitors, or even the prey itself incapable of perceiving it. Tonight he set this ruddy spotlight on Julius. Jason’s little companion was surprised to feel a gentle caress, as he had not sensed someone stir in the unlit room.
“Jason, is that you?” Asked the squire as he lay on his stomach.
“Yesss” whispered a deep, oily voice.
The plucky, pint-sized youth lifted his head and tried to look over his shoulder. A large hand spanned his smooth back and pushed him flat on the bed. The other hand ripped off his loose-fitting boxer shorts as he gasped. A long, meaty tongue hungrily writhed along the back of his inner thighs, travelling further up.
“Well, strip my gears and call me shiftless,” the squire joked sheepishly.
“Truth be told, I am not Jason,” Julius’s mystery man spoke with a muffled voice, his dribbling maw now tightly pressed to the precocious squire’s rear hole, the deep, rumbling words reverberating through his insides, as though the youth’s own heart was speaking to him.
“But if you grant me my wish, I shall grant you yours.” Or at least that’s what Julius believed he could discern from the unseen visitor’s muzzled rumblings inside him. Regardless, Julius keenly agreed and surrendered between soft, quizzical, almost sorrowful moans.
After a long fingering (both in terms of finger-length and time) Julius heard the figure shift his position and kneel on the floor next to the bed. In the darkness the stranger guided Julius’s hand to touch a long, warm object. Perhaps it was a fossilised bone, lined with some kind of fabric like worn leather? Julius stroked the main part of the lengthy item as guided. He firmly gripped it, ran his hand around it to gauge its impressive circumference and solidity. As he moved his hand up the neck to the extended, raised head – the largest, most prominent segment of the bone – he could hear a low groan emanate from the stranger, as well as a noise like mucous being squeezed out. He wondered if perhaps this broad, rounded tip was the ball in a ball-and-socket joint, disarticulated from the skeletal remains of some giant of a man. But why was he being made to touch it? The strange and impressive pipe must have some dynamic function. It was no ordinary stick. But what use would it have as a tool? It’s shape suggested a multitude of active tasks it could perform. Although what its original purpose truly was, he struggled to imagine. It might be a lever of some kind – it was long and stout enough – and carved from what he had now decided was probably not in fact bone but some thick, dense wood so hard and fine that it just seemed like bone or ivory, seamlessly padded with hairless hide long ago. But there was a neat, small fissure at the top of the sculpted bulb, a fine open slit, and fluid trickled from this aperture. Julius finally realised his hand was touching living tissue, a rock-hard muscle. His hand had been drawn to the round, joy-stick gropability of the shaft’s tip. But as he’d been exploring the sides and top of that faceless head, he’d in fact been rubbing and teasing the concentrated pleasure patch of a well-developed, touch-sensitive organ, richly supplied with nerves. The blobs of fluid oozing down now leaked forth in earnest. And the limb was still in a state of flux, with additional muscular growth somehow occurring. The appendage inflated even larger and harder, pressing now between his lips that had just moments before parted as he gasped in final comprehension of what he’d been fondling all along.
“I am performing the essential ‘opening of the mouth’ ceremony” explained the rumbling, mysterious voice.
Julius felt intensely compelled to clumsily kiss and suckle on the large sexual organ. Then it pulled away to drag along the posterior borders of his interior, along the neat straight line that marked where his plum butt cheeks met, and along the soft, tightly closed rim of his asshole.
“Now I will conduct the ancient initiation to open the third eye.” explained the stranger.
And so a generous helping of saliva and some witchcraft was required to finally pack the large mystery penis into the virginal squire’s small, slim frame, as he lay on his smooth stomach. He had to slowly push and jig his member into Julius, like an oversized, old key into a shiny, fresh lock. The looming demon’s infrared eyes watched the proceedings from their very considerable height, even as stooped quite low in order to fuse the squire’s rear with his crotch, his ancient bones popping and clicking as he did so. The position of his knobbly-kneed legs bent either side of the bed, and his thick, muscular flanks and thighs narrowing into somewhat slimmer calves, made him resemble a grasshopper preparing to leap – had there been any light to see him. In his squatting position, the powerful momentum finally carried his member well inside the young man, where it was propelled even further by the arching motion of the young man’s lower back and the clenched gyrations on the part of the demon. At first his beats were slow, leisurely. Gradually he increased the depth and diabolism of his penetrations until they were powerful enough to cause noticeable undulating and bobbling movements on the youth’s body.
In the midst of this, Julius was surprised to hear a bastardised version of verses from Isaiah, recited by his invisible, groaning lover: “What he opens no man can shut. I will drive into him like a peg into a firm place, and he will be a throne of glory for the house of his new father. I will fasten into him firmly like a peg, and on him shall hang all the weight.”
Jason’s young ward was once again able to experience the shape and form of that grotesquely enlarged limb; how it tapered after the initial insertion of the atomic-mushroom head, but became wider again as it was driven into him towards its stimulated, swollen base. When the appendage was pulled back, in preparation for another long thrust, Julius’s rim experienced that widening process once more but in reverse; the trunk gradually flaring outward towards the huge apex. Each time the phallus proffered itself forward once more a sharp pain, mingled with an intense pleasure, ran through the young man who bore its weight. He delighted in being tormented by the moist presence of the appendage, the sensation of it squeezing its way into him between his buttocks. Reaching down with extraordinarily long arms, thumbs and fingers held in a pincer-like formation, the demon could squeeze and grope the round cheeks of the youth’s backside as they bounced in time with his thumping. The rough, calloused texture of his fingers and palms also helped ensure he could grasp the smooth, slippery surface of the squire’s drool-coated bottom with ease. A passing car’s light swooshed through the thinly curtained window for a moment. If the feebly moaning Julius had looked over his elegant shoulder at that point, he might’ve been able to escape what followed.
After a luxuriously long time Julius changed position at the shadowy presence’s command. The squire flipped to face the stranger in the darkness, who wrapped his arms around him and held him close. In this position the wrestling figures were even more intimately intertwined and interlocked, engaged in a contest of the flesh. Julius took the opportunity to grope around blindly, to explore the huge unknown that was his lover, to feel the straining and tightening of sinews, the lengthy body of wiry muscle like beef jerky, deliciously dry and salty to his kissing lips. The thundering figure drove himself deep inside Julius again, a huge mallet to the youth’s little bronze gong. It was a heavy thudding and clapping, a drumming rhythmically shaking the bed beneath him. Perhaps this pumping awoke a neighbour, or perhaps it was the expressive youth’s now raucous moans, carried through the stillness of the night, which ultimately called attention to the pair. Either way, somewhere outside a houselight came on and shone through the window onto a grotesquely wrinkled object.
The gnarled face of Julius’s new lover was the only thing immersed in the beam of lamplight. In the warm tungsten glow the red head looked malformed and despicable. His guest had formidable horns and a vacant, mask-like expression. Julius felt a flash of terror, but found he couldn’t break contact with those glassy, bulging eyes. They were bright scarlet and emitted a bioluminescence, a spooky glow. They were just as deeply piercing as the monster’s large member, and possessed an alluring, hypnotic glamour from which he couldn’t escape. Julius gaped pop-eyed, utterly paralysed and for a moment, unable to produce any sound. The hugely-endowed, invisible body below the ugly face continued thrusting. Now all that could be heard in the room was the demon’s occasional grunts, the tap-tap of drool as it dripped from the slightly open crimson mouth onto the lad’s toned chest, and most of all, that wet squelching of the member moving inside him. Suddenly the demon laughed broadly. The cackling visage was truly revolting to behold. The entire face crumpled. The cheeks jutted up and dragged the corners of the lips with them, leaving only that mouth stretched fit to bursting, a wide slash. Those wild, strange eyes gathered into two glowing wrinkles. The husky chortle slowly rose into a surprisingly high-pitched screeching laugh. With his upper and lower lips peeled away, the monster’s long killing teeth, projecting out of pink gums, were on full display.
Julius’s body broke out in gooseflesh and trembled uncontrollable. His own, much smaller member lashed and slapped helplessly in time with the monster’s weighty plunges, before slowly stiffening into a stretched-to-bursting, nodding erection. The demon’s rod was repeatedly rubbing against his prostate. Blubbering and snivelling as tears welled up in his eyes, he finally punctured the quiet by incoherently whining a command that, by the power of Jesus’s name, the demon puncturing his body name himself. The demon obliged, revealing at the same time that his deep, resonant bass voice was capable of an almost deafening volume. “My name, little dog, is King Morgag the Heinous! Remember it, piteous creature. For it is the name of the one who shall sabotage you from end to END!” drops of demon spittle flew into the flustered youth’s blinking eyes and dotted his cheeks and brow. This was also the point when, inconveniently for the flustered lad, he could no longer hold back his stuttered, lurid sequence of pleasure groans, which were particularly high and rapid, and especially loud. He covered his mouth, attempting to muffle his vulgar squeals and yelps.
“No!” The devil effortlessly plucked Julius’ hand away from his face and pressed it into the bed sheets, the squires hand held under the huge paddle of the demon’s rough palm. “Let the little dog bark. Ruff! Ruff!”
“But they will hear!” blustered Julius.
The demon hunched his back, craned his long neck below. He thrust forward his heavy head, still flashing those great, bone-crushing, meat-ripping teeth. He opened his jaw and reached out his tongue. He slipped it into Julius’ mouth, followed it with his churning, gobbling lips, choking and then pacifying the squire’s whimpered questions and worried piping with a strong extended smooch. Initially Julius still kept trying to talk, but with his mouth plugged and pleasured he couldn’t form proper words. The neighbour’s light went off, and again they were in total darkness. After a while the devil released Julius’s mouth, letting him moan and druggily babble once more. But soon he shut him up again, this time with his shocking extremity of demonic lust, allowing only a deep gurgling sound to vibrate from the lad’s throat.
Once more Morgag upended Julius vertically to reach the superb bottom. From the pitch-black room burst the most appalling and monstrous succession of howls as the demon pile-drived the young man and jet propelled his seed inside him. He completely emptied his pendulous and billowing scrotum, the wrinkly sack expanding and contracting like a pair of lungs, the dreadful squeezing and pumping so powerful it too was also audible. Then the demon lifted his looming form off and let Julius collapse quivering with fatigue. The youth’s chest was covered with the white slime of his own smaller but copious ejaculation, which had happened at some point. Upon finally pulling out fully, Morgag shook the drooled strands of lingering semen from his member and swung and wiped them onto the youth’s blinking, stupefied face, over his slack-jawed mouth. Blobs of sperm flopped and slid down the young man’s cheeks and lips, trailing threads of wetness, the residue of evil.
And just like that the demon sat up on the edge of the mattress and clicked his fingers. His pointer finger lit up like a match, a red flame at the tip. In the firelight the puffed-out Julius could see his strange guest once more. The smug demon presented an odd, gawky picture. His features were indeed a grim portrait of withered sagacity. Seen in profile, the face looked like something carved out from a rocky mountainside. He resembled a grotesque caricature of a regal roman emperor cruelly beaked with a large aquiline nose. Like all meat eaters, his head was quite large. Particularly prominent were the heavy bags of sagging skin beneath his big red eyes, but greasy creases of haggard skin corrugated all over the skull-like face. Nothing but white stubble was growing on his pointy, bony jaw, and not a single hair was left on the top of his head. Running along his neck, between his chin and collar bones, were two flaps of loose skin, the sac-like folds of a sagging dewlap neck. Julius could discern that in the case of Morgag’s pair of backward arching head-spikes, the fine growth rings that usually lined the surface of demonic horns had been worn smooth by time. He also noticed that the spinous processes of the demon’s spiked vertebrae were particularly pronounced on what seemed to be a slight dowager’s hump. But a knotted, coarse terrain of ectomorphic musculature clung firmly to his jutting skeletal structure. Except for the demon’s drooping face and neck, the overall tautness of his fiercely stiff frame – that pattern of huge inflated blisters that formed strong biceps, triceps, pectorals, abdominals and so on – was only occasionally disrupted in parts by the loosening that comes with age. He noticed the demon’s firm muscles were smaller in the upper body, the chest muscularity he carried being proportional to his narrower frame there. Despite having just had Julius, the demon still seemed to have an abundance of energy in reserve, his posture imbued with the pent-up tension of a coiled spring.
Morgag’s figure was not the only one illuminated by his pyromancy. Reflections shimmered and flickered on the dark bronze surface of Julius’ sweat-coated skin, so likewise the demon took the opportunity to ogle his handsome and well-shaped lover in the flattering light, as the youth swept away the spindles of gleaming white slime that hung from his chin. It had taken great restraint on Morgag’s part to preserve the extremely delicate young man’s life during and after the sex act, as the demon had a predilection for crushing his lovers to death. Indeed, part of Julius’s terror had come from the memory of him and Jason entering a seminarian’s bedchambers only to find an unrecognisable red, pulp-like thing on the bed. Looking down at the unmoving, lifeless mush that no longer resembled anything human, it had filled Julius with horror to think that but a few hours before that same mashed corpse had reportedly been a naked, loudly moaning man.
Now upon closer scrutiny, as the pliant softness of warm skin met his eye, Morgag was pleased that he’d managed to leave Julius unflattened. If he had, he would’ve missed this opportunity to admire that fluid play of light on the youth’s smooth form, how it rendered him in a truly unforgettable manner; the polish and silkiness of his exquisite flesh, his dark abs bepearled with droplets of semen, droplets slipping and running now, pooling in the creases between separate muscles. Morgag was tempted to command the supply-slender man to roll over, so that he could inspect the satisfyingly round rear once more. With his burning finger the demon lit a huge cigar he’d materialised from under the bed and began smoking, shaking his finger to put out the flame. Again, they were plunged back into darkness, save for the red embers of the sizzling cigar tip and the demon’s eyes. Idly puffing away on his cigar in the dim, he leaned in closer and whispered snake-like to the entranced squire, explaining the wish-granting nature of his sperm.
“You must be very careful what you wish for,” warned Morgag. “Even at my great age, the magical potency of my seed remains strong.”
He assumed the simple youth would request to be taken to Jason. Despite the squire’s perfect beauty, the demon was quite ready to move on to another human prize, eager to devour another young virgin, and was only lingering because he was faintly curious to hear if his prediction regarding the squire’s wish was correct. He was already getting distracted thinking about his next conquest, a princess in some far-off foreign land, when he was suddenly brought back into the room at the shock of hearing the squire’s wish: to bed Morgag again the following night. Julius turned onto his belly and looked over his shoulder. Glowing, sparkling semen started to spit in irregular arching streams out of his scrunched-up asshole, like shooting stars in the night, as if the magic fluid had immediately gone to work granting his wish. Soon a sticky puddle of the shining white foam and slime was thickly oozing out of his bottom, a puddle getting larger by the minute. In this new light, as his defiled body wallowed helplessly in a warm, widening pool, he could see that finally the grin had faded from the demon’s ugly, timeworn face.
“Fine, another night won’t hurt, let it cost me what it will.” The miserly Morgag agreed, his wrinkly brow knotted.
The interrogation
Somewhere in the distant, submerged lands, in a dark and gloomy region of the underworld, is a terrible place haunted by gruesome figures, a den of horrors. Only the faces of its inhabitants outdo the utter gloom of the scene. In this miserable world, one of the disgruntled denizens that served Queen Valga, a goggled and queerly-garbed figure, slunk through the tall, narrow corridors. Lifting his eyewear to his forehead, he pressed his bulging and glossy eyes between the bars of a cage door, and peaked into the large chamber beyond. There was Jason in the torchlight, naked and bent over a stone table, bound in chains. The spying fiend reached a slimy hand down his pants and began stroking a nubbin that was his own small, mucous-coated member.
A buxom, spoon-billed demoness named Shyyss, glazed in pink waxy skin and clad in a red leather bikini and red stilettos, repeatedly spanked Jason’s rear with her large paddle beak. The closed beak seamlessly extended from her face, and was the same colour as the rest of her body. From the distance the lowly demon voyeur was watching, he judged the round oars of her upper and lower bill were about the size of a large wooden spoon, or perhaps ping pong bats. She was able to angle and swing her neck with incredible ease and force, creating a loud slapping noise upon making contact with a cheek of Jason’s muscular rear.
A bright blue, lanky, one-eyed demon named Sorgon closely watched over the procedure. Jason seemed intrigued by this blue cyclops, looking up at him even as he winced with each new smack. His taut blue musculature was marked by correspondingly shaped plates of coarse, embedded bone; a flexible and protective coat of armour that reminded Jason of a lobster’s exoskeleton. This hard, prickly carapace supported and stiffened each long limb and muscle. The powerful muscles that operated his limbs were attached to these great bony plates in a manner that suggested this physical defence had organically formed on his body. His neck was encased in rings of bony armour that ended in a large, spiked club, a skull-like box of sorts, covered with horny plates – the demon’s hard head. Several large interlocking plates formed a face shield that followed the flowing lines of jaw, cheek, and nose. All of the rough, curved segments that covered the demon’s body ended in spikes, ridges and protrusions like spider conch shells. The red g-string that covered the demon’s crotch and flossed between two firm cheeks (likewise contoured with two cups of ribbed, barbed armour), was not really necessary, considering his phallus was encased under its own retractable shell fortified with crotchal denticles.
“It’s quite large for a human, mmm, I could enjoy that” remarked Sorgon as he licked his lips and drew his glistening eyeball closer to Jason’s phallus, stiffening below the table.
“Valga has commanded us to extract the truth from you. Tell us everything, swine!” Shouted Shyyss.
After hours of valiantly enduring the spanking torture, Jason’s buttocks became ruddier and rounder than ever before. The incessant smacking caused the gluteal tissue to tumefy into two spherical, cushion-like paddings. The hairless skin coating these inflated globes was rubbed raw. The blooming rash colours blended to form gorgeous hues, ranging from pink to scarlet to crimson. Jason finally relinquished. He disclosed how he was able to find and materialise in front of Vexan via the magic semen of King Morgag. After learning this particular piece of information Shyyss abruptly halted her spanking. Instead she beckoned the cyclops closer and whispered, “with your excellent eye, look inside him whilst I hold him open.”
She used her beak as forceps to slowly force Jason’s tight anus wide as he groaned. Sorgon crowded in and pressed his eye to Jason’s now-gaping orifice. It was apparent that Morgag’s magical seed was not the only one the cyclops was searching for. A fiddling hand down the front of his own g-string pouch, as the segments of bone cupping and guarding his genitals slid up and away, suggested he was also hoping to draw out his own monstrous offering.
“I see it, glowing inside him! So pretty.” exclaimed Sorgon.
As if to corroborate this claim, a trickle of radiantly shining sperm slugged its way out of Jason’s orifice and embroidered the central seamline of his perineum and hanging scrotum, before drooling onto the ground. The spoonbill-headed demoness snapped her beak shut and Jason’s hole closed tight once more.
“Now hold his cheeks asunder” she instructed the cyclops.
Once Sorgon firmly separated Jason’s butt cheeks, she slid her tong-like beak into him. Jason moaned in relief as once again his itch was being scratched. The demoness scraped and scooped with her bill. She spooned out long, sparkling chains of Morgag’s glowing semen from Jason’s hole, devoid of any unwanted matter, as though the sperm had some innate, magical cleaning quality. She tilted her head and let the thick strand of enchanted slime slide down her throat. From the demonic spy’s distant position at the cell door, it looked as though Jason’s anus was spilling out glittering pearl necklace after glittering pearl necklace, which the spoonbill was immediately shovelling up and swallowing.
“Hey! What about me!?” protested the cyclops.
“Break the curse on me” Shyyss wished.
She turned away as her body grew taller and paler. The straps and heels of her stilettos snapped under her weight as her feet swelled and lengthened, the central toe enlarging into a hoof as the others shrunk away. Her bikini also stretched immensely before finally tearing apart. For a moment Jason was intrigued by the swelling breasts, inflating buttocks and expanding thighs, but then the figure stretched and morphed beyond recognition. As she fell onto all fours, her spoon-bill reformed and congealed into an equine muzzle, and suddenly she was a white horse with red eyes. She bolted out of the chamber, kicking the barred door open, crushing the big-eyed spy underneath before he could buckle up his pants and get out the way. She galloped away down the corridors, the echoing of her hoof-falls soon disappearing into the distance. Sorgon got down on his knees and frantically licked the smiling Jason’s haunches and deep inside him. After doing this, the cyclops closed his eye and wished for his Queen Valga to die a painful death, so that he could rule in her place. Jason saw an opportunity and took a page out of Morgag’s book.
“Is killing Valga you’re only wish? If you set me free, perhaps I can grant you another?” Jason offered.
Sorgon grinned. He picked up an axe that rested along the wall beside other tools of torture and dismemberment, and lifted it high over his head. It came down on the chain of Jason’s shackles. He led Jason down many stairs until they reached what looked like a vaulted stone crypt.
Once inside the dimly lit private chamber, Jason ran a hand over Sorgon’s chest, made abrasive by hundreds of tiny, forward-pointing teeth. A pair of large bony plates, fan-shaped like scallop shells and terminating in pointed tubercles, covered the demon’s broad pectoral muscles. Jason kissed the demon’s spiracle-bearded lips. The human’s one-eyed snake fulfilled his end of the bargain. The demon’s supple asshole, found cautiously between two domes of prickly shell, felt like the sucking insides of a shellfish. From time to time, as the cyclops sat on the demon slayer’s crotch and bounded up and down, his thorny cranial plate would scrape against the ceiling of the cramped cave. It was tricky for Jason to avoid the dense series of sharp belly spines on the animal’s abdomen, or the horned plating that capped the back muscles and spine. Afterwards, as the cyclops snored, Jason picked the demon’s red g-string off the cold stone floor and slid it on before creeping away, grateful his sore buttocks were exposed to the cool air and not rubbing against fabric. He had no idea where Vexan was, but he had heard many a legend of where Morgag dwelled.
Forty nights
When the sun passes from the sky at the end of the day and darkness falls, there comes a time when all evil is permitted to walk the earth unchecked. It was on such an evening that a shadowy form flitted eerily through the portal beneath Julius’s bed. Here was Morgag, having clambered up from the underworld for the second night in a row. Quickly did he let himself into Julius’s room and then into Julius himself. The squire, however, liked their second round so much that he longed to bed the demon again, twice as much as before. And as the demon’s semen was once more winding through the youth’s insides like a ribbon of liquid metal, the wish was granted. And so, in the gloom of the following evening Morgag once more obliged; after waiting for the cover of night, and using his powers to conceal them both from the gaze of other demons and gods alike, he returned to the human world to find the bare-bottomed lad, a well-prepared and ample meal, awaiting him. The repugnant, loathsome genie patiently performed his wish-granting duty, and once more the same wish was made. This intense pattern of behaviour was repeated night after night. Like clockwork he would extend his lengthy penis to root Julius voraciously, crashing again and again into the exhausted young man, strongly impregnating him with wish-granting ectoplasm. He’d grind out one intense round after another, pushing himself and his lover to the limits of pleasure with the spine-tingling, seam-splitting workout. And at the same time, each night Julius was overcome with an incredible urge to satisfy the hoary demon’s ancient, coarse, muscular needs.
Despite the loud mournful cry Julius would utter when smitten with the firm blow of the demon’s member inside his most tenderest of regions (and despite the fact that after their first few encounters he was so weak he had to shuffle and drag his body to the bathroom on his bare chest, pushing and pulling his limp, naked form across the carpet with trembling arms) the nightly sodomisation seemed to gradually strengthen him, rather than weaken or wound him. Over time he noticed a significant increase in his muscular endurance for their very vigorous and at times dangerous activity. Greatly improved was his ability to withstand the maximum physical load of the towering demon’s body on top of his own petite form, with that huge member making deep, pulsing incursions inside him. He was perpetually calling upon the pool of libido his body manufactured, and that pool seemed to be positively brimming at all times.
Morgag relished engaging in struggles with human opponents, and this included the more pleasant strife, the more rigorous pursuit, of lovemaking. But nevertheless, the evil emperor made many attempts to free himself. For night-time was demon-time, when the walls between the human world and the spirit world stretched thinner than the crotch fabric of his black thong, which almost stretched to breaking point when occasionally during the day he filled it with extended, pointed thoughts of the squire (Morgag, far too calloused and hideous to quibble about fashion, removed his royal attire before climbing up from hell, and wore nothing but this same, minimal undergarment each visit). Indeed, during the day the beast’s heart beat with a strange, unfamiliar quickness at the thought of the beautiful human being he met each night. And when the time came to leave after each encounter, he’d reluctantly turn away his outstretched neck, his back humped more than usual, his feet trailing. Likewise Julius realised this demon, who undertook the impressive and hideous climb through the unfashioned realms of darkness to his bedroom night after night, had started to hold a truly special significance to him.
But both the squire and the demon were acutely aware of how they were neglecting and violating their other duties by spending the night making love in the human world. Julius was sure the neighbours had deduced that the plaintive, anxious moans and the rumbling bull-roars that filled the street each night were emanating from his humble abode, and worried that eventually someone would confront him about it. In day-to-day life Julius held himself in a rather buttoned-up, strait-laced and stiff manner, but at night he arched his back and surrendered to Morgag’s much more pleasurable, curved stiffness. Sometimes Morgag would attempt to abstain from inseminating the squire and instead try to spill his seed on the carpet, for the seed must be inside an orifice for the wish-granting magic to work. But then Julius would coo and croon at his touch, his thrust. The demon would suddenly give in and release the burden of his heavy load inside the young man’s tight entrance before he could frantically try to pull out and leave the youth’s back or chest streaked and barred with the last strands of his luminescent ejaculate. Another time Morgag slid on a jumbo pigskin condom when the squire wasn’t looking, but the young man noticed the difference immediately and refused to continue unless he removed it. The squire seemed to be attempting to gather inside him as much as possible of the powerful, mystical arcana that was the demon’s semen.
Each evening when the demon’s slinky underwear was peeled off and his more than ample member slid out and inside Julius, the squire would wonder: what was the secret to this old horny devil? Afterwards the large demon liked to rise, deep red and darkly lurid in the bedside lamplight, and creep around the room, studying the various artefacts, books and furnishings that cluttered the small space. He walked with a strange forward-back swinging of his head, his neck bobbing like that of a tall crane in a marsh. Julius would get distracted by the pair of weighty lobes and the long, fleshy nodule hanging between the demon’s legs as they ponderously swayed in time with his movements about the room. The flesh-sock and bag of his long penis and bulbous scrotum, lugged about between the legs of that living red skeleton, often dragged across the surface of a shelf or table as he turned, knocking over some prized ornament, and the young man would remember that aging is supposed to produce those all-too familiar debilitations and infirmities, including the loss of sexual vigour. His eyes fell lower still to gaze on the monster’s large feet of deep carmine, as they ambled back to the bed. What was the magical key to this demon’s seemingly boundless endurance, strength and vitality that was now imbuing the squire’s body as well?
When the horrible devil man replied to Julius’s questions, he spoke with a toothy smile. “When you see top athletes prostituting their bodies on television, saying that chocolate candies are good, that is my doing… …when you discover that truly clean water is now a rare commodity, that even the high Sierra Crystal springs are now contaminated with parasites, spread from human filth, you have me to thank… …each night I go to spread evil and wickedness among your kind. While I am around, deviltry and cunning will remain on Earth. I feed off it… …I shall make all the universe wild and primitive… ….to me, humans are hairy bags of salty water, nothing more. Well, you’re not very hairy, you’re a smooth bag, but you understand my meaning.”
He affectionately stroked Julius as he said this. The young man was lying on his stomach, the angle of the light in the room accentuated the fullness and perkiness of his buttocks, making them resemble two high hills, with a valley dipping down in shadow to that dank hollow, from where the gurgling, insidious trickling sound of his own supplanted white waters reached his ear. In that moment it occurred to the ancient fiend that he was cosying with the squire post-coitus for the fortieth night in a row. Thankfully, he had noticed early on that he was at risk of being outsmarted by a human man-child of only nineteen years of age, so in the thing’s foul and distorted mind, a vicious plan had taken form. It had required the demon’s strange genius, and his enchanting penis. For you see, sodomy has a spiritual component, far more sinister than most recognize. But to the people who are in the know, it is the ultimate rebellion against God Himself – the only way to receive the Light of the Morning Star. This is what Morgag and his kind hoped to use to gain the whole human race for their side. A spiritual implant of sorts. To make a totally devoted satanic servant requires sodomy because sodomy changes the way the mind works; it affects a man like nothing else can, opening him up to the spirit world in new ways. This claim can be corroborated by many a scholar, who have repeatedly traced back this possession process to anal sex – the way it attacks the nerves at the base of the spine and causes a sort of mutation to ensue within the brain. It creeps up the spine, over the back of the head right into the forehead. For this kind of mind control programming to be truly effective, the act of buggery needs to be repeated over and over and over. And as Morgag had secretly appointed himself as Julius’s programmer or ‘keeper’, their nightly rendezvouses were the perfect way to pull and keep the squire in line. Each night Julius would go into an aroused, hypnotised mind-control state to be sodomized, and then Morgag would program into the squire’s mind what he wanted to program. There is often a deep bond that forms among men because of sodomy; sodomites may develop a romantic, almost familial attachment with their sodomized. In a sense it’s a sort of twisted kinship – sometimes a brotherhood, other times one of fatherhood and sonship, and Morgag had found that their connection had gone the way of the latter.
So perfectly did Morgag impregnate Julius’s thoughts, that finally the squire was arguing his qualifications as not only a sex-slave, but also a manservant, craftsman and even hard labourer, imploring to be subjugated and quickly coming up with the all-too reasonable terms of his servitude. The devil smiled – It had taken longer than expected to reduce the youth to blind obedience and infatuation through the ultimate sexual humiliation of being repeatedly, sensuously reamed. But now, finally, he was possessed. Having made a show of contemplating the price, and examining one final time the fine strong limbs of the naked lad, Morgag purchased him without much further ado. And with the pact now made, the squire laid his right hand in the old demon’s large palm. And as the monarch used his free claw to playfully fondle, squeeze and tug, like a contact juggler, the pair of lolling testes nestled in the youth’s thin and silken scrotal membrane, the demon secretly thought to himself how masterful was his jugglery of the human’s little mind.
Before the sun rose, Morgag lifted the quilt to expose the dark recess beneath his new slave’s defiled bed and instructed him to “follow me inside, my child.”