0 comments/  99683 views/  69 favorites

Bride of the Demon

By: Coxswain



Hell makes a small-town college quarterback a Bi stud

*

St. Naphtali State College was under the gun. We had been district champs for years--since before I became a student--but our football record was threatened by money. Money and a legion of robots.

The money was Vazcla College. With a statewide collection of Internet students, it had money. Wallowing in it, in fact. With a huge budget from endowments, it was a temple of the "naturally" rich. The disadvantaged need not apply.

St. Naphtali, on the other hand, was a peaceful small-town school in rural California, more than 100 miles from the freeways of LA, and more than 100 years away from the stresses. St. Naphtali was on the grounds of an ancient Spanish mission. The ruins of the old chapel still stood in a dark copse of trees at the far end of the campus. 

Our football team was young, mostly sophomores and freshmen. Only two juniors and one senior. Compared to St. Naphtali players, the Vazcla team was a meatgrinder. Our coach was wringing his hands and tearing out his hair. I knew because the coach was my father.

The robots of the Vazcla football team were a carefully scouted and recruited platoon of Navy Seals and sumo wrestlers posing as students. Chief of the robots--the only one a genuine student--was Wolf Dante, their big linesman. He rolled across the opposition like a Patton tank, and he earned his name. He was fierce, vicious, and dirty--I saw him break a guy's arm when the refs weren't looking.

On the street Wolf Dante was Agent 007 in a varsity jacket. I saw him in St. Naphtali once. Handsome guy--sleek and chic. Elegant in custom-fit clothes. Neck-length black hair bound in one large ponytail: John Travolta in "Pulp Fiction." Drinking coffee at the campus sidewalk café in a halo of sophistication, charm, and glamour, our small-town coeds came on to him like bees drawn to honey dripping out of a big cock. Walked by seductively, they "forgot something" and had to come back. Stopped and talked to him. Tossed their hair. Smiled.

At the curb was a Maserati Spyder Corsa with "WOLF" plates and the top down. I watched him drive off with one of the local babes. He pulled open her blouse as they drove around the corner.

Locker room legend said Wolf Dante had scored the cherries of 15 or 20 St. Naphtali coeds--in addition to countless pussies plundered at Vazcla. They said he could lift weights with his balls.

As August wore on, Dad grew more nervous, even to the point of muttering, "Vazcla! What can we do about those bastards!--Not fair!--Playing moneyball!"

Mom tried to comfort him, of course, but they were an old, established couple--married long enough that they no longer paid much attention to each other. I was the youngest of their kids and the only one still at home. 

Home was an old house on the edge of the campus, a Victorian mansion built in the early 1900s as the college president's home. Current presidents resided in a modern mansion in the Oak Cove part of town, so the old place was let out to lesser faculty members. It was quite spacious but very obsolete--high ceilings, creaking floors, ancient wiring, etc. Took a lot of maintenance. Dad was always hammering on this or pulling out that. 

But in those days Dad's big worry had nothing to do with the house. He would look at me from time to time and shrug his shoulders or roll his eyes up into his head. Our first game at the end of August was with Vazcla. And I was his quarterback. 

Our first pre-season practice game with Vazcla was a bloodbath. Our blood, Vazcla's bath--a Roman bath featuring first the slaughter of the innocents then the rape and pillage of the village.

I was sacked four times, threw three interceptions, and their final score looked like a miles-per-hour posting at the Indianapolis 500. 

That night, after the trampling Vazcla gave us, our police station was swamped with calls raving about "crazy, drunken Vazcla students grabbing college girls on the street." Emergency rooms and police stations the next morning were full of girls (those brave enough to report it) complaining of rape by "those damned boys," and who knew how many more were sitting at home, crying and gnashing their teeth?

I had no doubt that in nine months, St. Naphtali would have either a brace of unwed mothers in the classrooms or a number of coeds dropping out of school to get jobs as waitresses. 

Last year, St. Naphtali's championship was captained by quarterback Bill Collins, a natural talent. But this year, I was all Dad had. The only quarterback.

And I was a moron, an idiot. Out of my head in love with a Vazcla girl. 

I didn't mention anything about it to Dad, of course, although it was his fault. He told me to drive over to Vazcla one afternoon earlier in the summer to watch their team practice.

While there I saw the most beautiful woman in the world--a Vazcla cheerleader. Damn! As graceful and willowy as a silk streamer in a breeze, she tossed her pom-poms and did flips while I gazed in awe. I found myself quiet, unmoving, watching a beautiful butterfly, holding my breath not to frighten it away. I forgot all about the football practice.

The breeze played with her hair--a shimmering black swirl like a flowing, moonlit river. And that body! Sculpted in soft tan, graceful, sinuous, like a Stradivarius. A masterpiece. Not a straight line anywhere. Perfect breasts, the exact size and shape to accent the rest of her body. A waist so slender and graceful, it cried out for my arm around it. 

So natural and unselfconscious in her movements, every gesture was nimble and poetic. Angelic. Her face was so beautiful, it was holy. She really was an angel, a member of the heavenly choir in a tight Vazcla sweater and a pleated skirt.

And oh, God, that skirt--so short, her every move gave me breathtaking views, heart-stopping glances of tight blue silk, cheerleader panties covering the Pearly Gates.

I was so hard, I felt a little dizzy--all the blood had gone to my cock. God, I wanted to jack off. 

Those legs. Oh, those tanned, perfectly proportioned, long, long legs! My face was hot, and I was breathing harder. Her legs were long enough to wrap around my back. That cheerleader was extraordinary. Like finding the Kohinoor diamond in the middle of the stadium weeds.

I moved casually closer and watched her for the rest of the practice. When everything was over, and the cheerleaders finally flounced off the field, I left. I was so hard I could hardly walk.

Back at St. Naphtali, the report I gave on the Vazcla team was a masterpiece of bullshit. But it hardly mattered. What good is strategy to a mouse about to tangle with a bobcat? St. Naphtali got the shit stomped out of us anyway.

After that pre-season slaughter, as I drove home and got out of my car, I looked up into the sky. Far from the city lights in the Los Angeles basin--where stars never appear in the nighttime sky--evenings over St. Naphtali were jet-black with a mind-boggling panorama of trillions of twinkling lights, almost like the "galaxies upon galaxies" view through the Hubble Telescope.

That late August night I spotted a comet. Right smack in the constellation of Sagittarius, my astrological sign. Shit. A comet means bad luck. I had been warned. 

The first game of the season--the suicide meeting with Vazcla--was in a couple of weeks. I was depressed. 

My parents were out late--they had gone to dinner with somebody from the college. I heard them come in later. A little noisier than usual. A little tipsy. They went into their bedroom laughing and giggling.

Later I heard something I'd never heard before: Dad was fucking Mom. 

My parents were Straight and Strict. No cussing. No smoking. No alcohol in the house. And although my two older brothers and me were proof that they had connected (somehow), none of us had ever heard, seen, accidentally walked in on, or overheard through the wall anything whatsoever to show that my parents had sex.

That's why a few minutes later I was astounded to hear through my bedroom wall: "Harold, stop it! I mean it!"

I held my breath.

After a long time, I heard what sounded like oohing and ahing. Couldn't believe my ears. Then my mother's voice again: "Ahh, God, what's got into you! You're so big tonight!"

That did it. I plastered my ear against the wall. 

I heard bedsprings! And Mom was begging. Couldn't quite hear for what, but she was whimpering and pleading, "Please, please more--" 

Jesus Christ! I rubbed my cock against the bedpost as I listened. 

I heard my father: "Oh, yeah, baby, beg me for it!" More squeaking bedsprings, then Mom's voice: 

"Ohmigod, Ohmigod, Charlie, your cock! Harder, harder!" By then I had abandoned the bedpost and was jacking myself off full speed. 

There was a long stretch of nothing but groans and moans--every once in a while a grunt from Dad followed by a whimper from Mom. Then silence. By then I had blasted my own jizz against the wall and was fretting how I was going to cover it up.

Mom and Dad had been fucking like dogs in heat! Nothing could have astounded me more. I never heard such language from them! Didn't think Mom even knew such words. I jacked off to the memory nearly all night.

When I got up the next morning, Mom was moving around the kitchen, singing to herself. Dad sat at the table like Alexander the Great after defeating the Persians. Proud. Triumphant. And wearing nothing but his underwear. 

I was dumbfounded. Nothing but a tank-top undershirt and his white boxers. Dad was hairy. Coarse fur covered his shoulders and legs, and his pot belly hung out obscenely, also covered with hair. "You, uh, run out of clean clothes, Dad?"

"Naw. Just figured we could loosen up a little around here." Mom was at the counter, pouring him some coffee. She looked back at him and smiled. 

"We met somebody last night," Dad went on, "somebody I think will turn our football program around." Mom served him his coffee. "A dream kid. Like an answer to prayer. Never heard of him before, but he sure knows how to play football. I'll introduce Herald to the team this afternoon."

"Harold? Same name as you?"

"No, not Harold. Herald. H-e-r-a-l-d. Sounds a little different."

Herald? What's he announcing? "But how could you tell he's good at football in a conversation at a dinner table?"

Dad leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "Don't know, really. Just something about him. The way he talked. The way he carried himself."

As Dad leaned back in his chair, I saw something that made me choke on my toast. Dad's hard cock was sticking up through the slit in his boxers. 

Damn! That was something I'd never seen, and I was stunned. Dad had a big cock! Probably six inches and quite thick. Circumcised, just like me, and sticking straight out. 

I gulped. Never saw anything like it. A big, red cockhead topped the shaft like the head of a giant nail, and it jutted proudly out of his white shorts, a clear manifestation of my father's masculinity. 

Mom moved smoothly behind him, reached down, grasped the big thing, and with a quick squeeze, moved it back inside his shorts. Dad reached up to her face, brought it down to him, and they kissed. She moved back to the counter. Neither looked at me.

My cock hardened until it pressed against the underside of the table and I had to adjust it. Something had changed. Maybe the new football guy had restored Dad's confidence.

-==(^)==-

That afternoon in the team meeting, Dad introduced the new guy. "Gentleman, meet Herald Cobalt."

God!

A big man stood up. Damned big. Head and shoulders above anybody else in the room, he outweighed everybody except, embarrassingly, my father the coach. Shoulders so broad, when he sat back down, they touched the guys in the chairs on either side of him. A chest like a jukebox. Muscles like iron.

Fuck! It's Superman!

Out on the practice field, he turned out to be a supernatural being--beyond good. Heismann stuff. I was amazed. A quarterback, he hit every man he threw to. When he carried, he ran perfectly, dodging the defenders, coordinating with the blockers like he could read their minds. They ran interference for him as if they could read his.

We were watching somebody with the powers of the ancient gods--Staubach, Nameth, Marino. This one guy could make us winners! 

When we got to know him later, Herald turned out to be "a nice guy," as they say. Whereas other football "heroes" we'd met were energetic, in-your-face types, Herald was quiet, almost mysterious. 

In spite of his physical might, he had an intelligent air and looked older than he was. Wore his smoke-gray hair in a tangled bush, Einstein-like.

As days went by, in the practices we got to know him better and liked him. Then came the dreaded home game with Vazcla. 

I ran out onto the field with the rest of the team, but at the flip of the coin, I sat on the bench. I was listed as the "main quarterback," but Herald was starting the game. I knew it was permanent. In the next game I would be listed as "backup QB" again. 

The upside was that I was free to look across the field at the Vazcla cheerleaders. Nice. Tight sweaters. Perky tits. I spotted her. Wow. She lit up the whole field. 

I spent the rest of the time watching her. I think there was a football game at the same time; I didn't notice. 

Too bad. It was a historic game. Afterward, Dad called Herald Cobalt the "Robot Killer." Herald almost single-handedly turned the rout of the pre-season game into a triumph The Vazcla score looked like a tennis match. 

The infamous Wolf Dante, for all his size, got knocked on his ass by our quarterback! Nothing could stop Herald. The sacrifice of St. Naphtali virgins would still go on that night, but St. Naphtali guys would pluck the cherries. 

When the game was over, I ran to the other side of the field, shaking hands, greeting people as the happy victor, but searching for her.

I found her gathering up her pom-poms. "Hi!"

She looked up coolly. ""Hi. Congratulations, St. Naphtali boy."

"Ah, come on, are you going to hold that against me?" Anything! Let it be anything, baby, but hold it against me! Rub it against me!

She smiled. "Oh, I guess not, but it's more than just a game, you know."

"It's not? A week from now, nobody will remember the score." I was glad I hadn't played--I wasn't sweaty.

"You know what I mean. School loyalty. School spirit. It goes on, strengthens the college."

I was on pins and needles. "Hey, let me apologize. Give me a minute to get out of this suit, and we'll go get some coffee. I know all the hot spots in town--both of 'em."

She laughed (to my great relief). "Well, I don't usually go slumming. What's your name?"

"Eric."

"Nice to meet you, Eric. I'm Juliette."

Juliette! What else? The beautiful daughter of the enemy. Everything was going just fine when--

--"Excuse me, asshole!" Wolf Dante shouldered me aside and knocked me down. 

He took her hand. "Come on, Juliette, let's go home." He yanked her away down the sidewalk into the darkness. A few moments later I heard the 12 cylinders of the Maserati.

I stared after them. "Let's go home"? She couldn't be his wife. His sister? Juliette Dante? Talk about beauty and the beast. I drove home shaking my head. Back to Square One.

-==(^)==-

As football season progressed, we won every game, and Herald became a campus icon. His big physique was obvious--couldn't hide it whatever he wore--so he didn't try. He became famous for T-shirts that looked two sizes too small and nylon hiking shorts.

One night I slipped out of town and drove over to Vazcla. I found Juliette on the campus. At first she was hesitant. "I can't go out with somebody from St. Naphtali. I mean, we don't know 'where you've been.' Seals could be broken. Ingredients aren't fresh. Could've been tampered with--to say nothing of processed with dirty hands."

I smiled. "Hey, I'm farm-fresh! No artificial ingredients!"

We laughed. And we got to know each other. 

I began a secret life. Nearly every other night I drove over to Vazcla to see Juliette. She liked me, I could tell. And every night when I got home, to the sounds of my parents rutting in the next room, I jacked off to visions of heavenly Juliette.

-==(^)==-

The more football games we won, the more we realized we were in the presence of football royalty. Every time Herald threw what looked like a bad pass, miraculously the receiver would turn in time and actually run to it. The guys he passed to made coordinated runs, blending with their blockers almost like a dance team--literally in step. They moved as one, knocking aside the defenders until the runner reached the end zone. 

It was amazing to watch. Like Herald had mind control. The other players were his slaves. I wondered where the antenna was. He was hell on wheels.

In social circles on the St. Naphtali campus, Herald was also hell on the women--broke a series of hearts and God knows how many hymens. I heard a lot of jealous words about Herald--"She's not good enough for him," etc.--but never anything against him. The girls loved him. In fact, even the mention of his name made many of them shift uncomfortably in their seats. Some would sigh and blush.

I saw secret photos of him circulated among the gay students and spotted a calendar-size shot of him on the wall in a male dorm--a nude picture somebody got in the showers. 

Seeing him in the showers explained a lot. The tall stud was so buff, he looked like a cover model for a wrestling magazine. The shower spray splashed in whitewater rapids over the boulders of his belly, and guys who saw his cock for the first time stared like their numbers had just turned up in the lottery.

And what a cock. No wonder the coeds squirmed. A dong that huge would make anybody ache. The mega-cock fit the guy in scale--if you saw it in a picture and didn't know how big he was, it would look "normal." But anybody seeing (or feeling) it in real life knew that skin cylinder belonged on a horse, and the huge balls that danced beneath it loaded him up with shotgun shells--Herald could knock up a marble statue.

And something else. Something that bothered me: I thought it was beautiful. A beautiful cock. What kind of a thought is that? Am I queer?

But it was true. I saw him once with a hardon--must've been thinking of his date that night. The big cock jutted out of his crotch in a graceful curve like an F-16 taking off from an aircraft carrier. Like a master-crafted Samurai sword. Strong. Powerful. 

And beautiful.

Herald worried me. I didn't want to get curious. Didn't want to turn gay. I was in love with the Vazcla cheerleader, and until I found out what my luck would be with her, I wanted to stay 100% male.

September went by, and St. Naphtali won more games. The appearance of Herald Cobalt was a watershed event--thereafter things were "B.H." or "A.H."--Before-Herald or After-Herald. 

My father A.H. had trimmed himself down from a pot-bellied stove to a hard-bellied stud. I saw him every day in the weights room. He jogged several miles every day. My mother served fat-free meals.

Nighttime at my house was a soundtrack from a porn movie. Every night. "Oh, my God, Harold, you big fucker! Harder! Make me scream!" and "Gonna knock you up, baby! I love your legs up in the air for me. You surrender, babe??" The knock-up bit was an empty threat, of course, Mom had gone through menopause years before.

But none of us got to sleep before very late--intercourse to the max on their side of the wall, nonstop jackoff sessions on mine. I was beginning to think more kindly of the before-Herald days.

And breakfast. Mom got Dad some of those bikini briefs, and he took to coming to the table wearing nothing else. Wore them low on his hips. Wasn't hard to see his cock outlined in the fabric. The head stood out like a big plum. Sometimes wet spots, even a white smear here and there.


Bride of the Demon



A couple of times my mother's bathrobe fell open and I spotted her tits. Mom's naked underneath! Life at home after-Herald was a constant hardon.

One night, on one of my trips to Vazcla, I got my first kiss from Juliette. God, did she ever know how! Our relationship was dangerous, "wrong"--either of us would be in big trouble if we were found out--but when Vazcla's princess of football looked into my eyes, I knew I loved her. Surely she knew it, but that night, holding her in my arms, I told her so. 

Her fingers swept up into my hair and pulled my face down to hers. In turn I cupped her beautiful features in my hands. My jockstrap strained with such a bulge, I could hear the little poppings of rubber threads. When our lips touched, they merged us together. I felt my soul flow into her and hers into me. Like we became one person. 

I closed my eyes, and it was like--like an orgasm without the frenzy. Without the burning, shuddering ecstasy, but pleasure, pure pleasure totally without pain. Complete, overwhelming peace. Happiness. Joy.

I could have kissed her forever. I wanted to. 

-==(^)==-

By the end of the football season, Herald had led St. Naphtali to the championship game. And our competition for the final title? Vazcla!

The week before the final game of the season, which would be Halloween night against Vazcla, Dad called me to his office. "Go find Herald Cobalt, and give him this note. I can't get him on his cell phone." 

St. Naphtali wasn't that big. I could probably find him just by going from one building to another. Sure enough, I spotted him jogging along the meandering path twisting and winding through the campus. He was far enough away that he couldn't hear me call, so I set out to catch him.

Not so easy. He was jogging at a pace I barely kept up with, and I couldn't close the distance between us. Sooner or later he had to stop or at least slow down, so I followed. For miles. Sweaty. Breathing hard. About to quit.

I finally saw him stop on the far side of the campus, past all the buildings. He stepped off the path and moved through the weeds to the distant copse of trees holding the old ruins. I followed.

Everything was deathly still. Not so much as a car in the distance. Jeez, not even a barking dog. No bird. Not even the sound of a breeze. Creepy.

By then the sun was going down in a blaze of red like the clouds were on fire. I thought about the comet. Bad luck.

What's he doing out here? Where'd he go? I heard no footsteps, no rustling weeds, no crunches of footsteps on dry grass. I headed in the direction he did.

When I reached the ruin of the old chapel, no Herald. I went inside. What a place. Dark and shadowy. Collapsed roofs. Fallen walls. Rocks and litter all over the place. 

The only sound inside was the trickling of water, and even that sounded muted, hushed, as if trying quietly to escape the place. 

Once inside, I saw the "chapel" was a hell of a lot bigger than I thought. Never been there before and thought it was like the Alamo, but the more I blundered around inside, the more I realized it was an old stone cathedral, not a mud-brick mission.

I was about to call out Herald's name, but something hushed me. Something about the place was ominous. Uncomfortable. A few of the old walls still had the ancient frescos and paintings. In the fading light, they looked odd, like no church art I ever saw. In a room littered with stones from the collapsed roof, I spotted a fresco on a far wall that looked for all the world like a naked woman cavorting with some huge beast. The fresco was cracked and ruined--but I clearly saw the artist had painted in the beast's cock. A big one. Hard. And flesh-colored, not black and hairy like the beast's body. What kind of a church was this??

By then I decided finding Herald Cobalt was more trouble than I wanted. What happens if I stumble over something in the dark and break my leg? Nobody would find me out here for days. Nobody ever came to the old mission except lovers looking for a quiet place to fuck. And even then nobody ever came here after dark. The place was too dangerous. Snakes. Spiders. 

I'm leaving!

Just then I spotted a faint light and moved toward it. 

In the back, at the far end of one of the transepts, Herald Cobalt knelt at an altar, his back to me. The light came from a candelabra on the floor near him. Wow, Herald Cobalt is religious! But why come all the way out here to pray? The light from the candles was so faint, I couldn't make him out clearly, but that was Herald. I'd know that hunky body anywhere, and it hit me--he's naked!

What do I do now? Interrupt his prayers and give him the letter? I waited. 

He knelt there for several minutes then stood up.

Not quite naked. He was bare to the waist--I saw those shoulders and that famous chest, a Sherman tank with nipples--but he wore some kind of kilt, a white pleated thing like from an ancient Egyptian priest. 

But the pleated linen divided up the middle, revealing his crotch, and there it was, and it was hard. It was eerie, almost supernatural. The huge prick curved up in that long, graceful arc like a scimitar, and it almost glowed. I swear I felt something, a radiation, some kind of waves, pulsing out from it. I could feel it on my face.

In a wild thought I wondered if that thing was the antenna he used to communicate with the team members. 

Then I wondered what that big cock would feel like jammed up inside--then I mentally slapped myself. Idiot! I'm no queer! 

I froze, hoping he didn't see me, but he called out, "Slave! He is here."

The hackles on the back of my neck stood up. Slave? Who in hell is he talking to? I looked around.

Then another voice. Behind me. "Yes, I know, Master." Deep bass. Powerful. Booming. Familiar. A thrill went through me, and I got goose bumps. I turned my head to look back. 

A ray of moonlight shone through a hole in the roof, a ghostly light illuminated--Dad! My father, the coach! 

And he was stark naked. 

Dad was bald--always had been--but his muscular torso was also bare, shaved as smooth as marble. His arms and legs were smooth, too. He shaved his whole body!

And he had a hard cock. 

Another chill went up my back. Dad's cock was huge. Bigger than I remembered. Bigger than I had seen it in the kitchen. It arced up to the sky in a powerful, graceful curve. 

And he had a foreskin! I couldn't believe my eyes!

I looked over at Herald. Jesus God, they have the same cock! 

It was true. I also felt the same pulsations radiating from Dad's cock. He spoke: "I sent him here, Master. He is in this room somewhere." 



Dad calls Herald "Master"??

Cobalt's voice boomed again through the darkness, "Bhajhad ghiski quicefe lepu coski!" 

What??

Another beam of moonlight came through the damaged roof and fell on me like a spotlight! Both men turned to look. 

I cleared my throat and croaked, "Hi, Dad." Long pause. "I found Herald."

The men moved toward me, and, finally forcing my legs to work, I backed up, suddenly very, very nervous. "What's with the kilt, Herald? Dad, you been skinny-dipping or something? What's up?"

I stumbled backward over some fallen brickwork, and before I could get up, they were on me. Herald picked me up--"Hey, I'm okay, Herald, put me down; I'm okay"--but he slung me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and walked with my father back to the altar.

There he put me back on my feet, but he moved behind me and held me, one mighty arm through my elbows, holding me tightly. I looked at my father. "Coach!--Dad! What's going on?"

Dad looked at me with cold eyes but was silent. 

"Snophatu atvari kwuzete," growled Herald.

"What? What are you saying?"

With his free hand, Herald reached around and tore open my T-shirt, ripping it off me with power yanks.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing??"

Then the hand moved to the waistband of my shorts and yanked them down. With a grip at my jockstrap, he yanked that down, too. 

"Hey, turn me loose, you bastard!" I struggled, but fighting against Herald Cobalt was like banging my head against a bank vault.

My father moved closer, and I saw him pick up a long dagger from out of the darkness. I gasped. At first I thought he was going to stop Herald's abuse, but he grabbed the cloth sagging below my hips. With a single swipe he cut through them both, and they fell away. Damn, that fucking knife is sharp!

I was naked except for my running shoes. 

And I was scared. "Hey, Dad, look, what's wrong? Why are you doing this? Are you mad at me? What did I do?"--

--"Cushmorna hoblazique!" Herald picked me up and flung me roughly onto my back on the altar. I tried to get up, but both men quickly secured my arms, buckling my wrists in leather cuffs at either side of the altar, and they locked my ankles into cuffs at the other end. Ohmigod, I'm a sacrifice! Jesus Christ, what is this, some kind of devil cult?

I looked from one man to the other. Both had stepped back, Herald on my left, my naked father on my right. I gaped at their identical cocks--big Arabian scimitars sticking out of their crotches. Somehow Herald had updated my father's cock.

I looked into my teammate's face. "Herald. I though we were friends." 

His hooded eyes were the color of summer leaves. Strangely beautiful. But cold. I was in trouble bad.

"Vaolora!" his voice boomed out.

Dad produced an antique-looking flask out of the darkness. God, what a weird thing--a round brass ball, it had a curlicue handle on one side and a spout shaped like a cock on the other. He poured from it into a shallow saucer, and what came out was night! Pure black. No reflections! I mean, even India ink will flicker and gleam as light bounces off its surface, but that stuff was like liquid nothing. He was pouring the color black into that saucer, and the black stream slithered into the dish like viscous motor oil. It lay there, a black hole, like something was wrong with my vision.

He moved to the altar and brought it to my mouth. 

"No, Dad! Hey, I ain't drinking--Mmmph!" He poured it against my closed lips, and Damn! the stuff penetrated! No matter how tightly I closed my lips, it seeped through into my mouth!

Bitter! Poison! I tried not to swallow, but it was hot, like jalapeño, and I could feel it soaking into the membranes of my cheeks and throat. God! I'm dead! Poisoned by my own father!

Sure enough, I felt drunk. Dizzy. Couldn't think straight. My mouth fell open, and Dad poured more of the Black-hole elixir into me. Damn, no!! I got even drunker.

Couldn't see. Vision blacking out with those little flashing things at the edges like in a migraine headache. Couldn't focus. Barely see.

Fuck! I struggled against my leather cuffs but couldn't move. I looked from my father to Herald. They stood with raised arms, looking to the sky. Waiting. 

Herald chanted, "Puevu finabbu jamadde! Ovoatu Chubog! Chubog! Chubog!"

I looked around. Night fogs had come into the building, making vision even harder, but I saw things. A boom of thunder shook the place--but it was speaking words! "Bajquameni moguretto!" The whole damned building shuddered, and chunks of stone fell out of the walls. 

Out of the dark mist beyond my feet, I saw Him, and my blood froze in my veins. Jesus fucking Christ, it was a huge, black man head and shoulders above even Herald! 

Petrified, I watched the big man move closer. My vision was unfocused, like in a dream. I'm drunk! Drugged! That drink has me seeing things! The brute moved closer, and as he moved out of the fog and mists, I saw his cock.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! At the apex of those mighty legs was a cock as big around as my arm! At least a foot long, maybe more!

So dizzy I was about to faint, I closed my eyes for a second. When I opened them again, I saw nothing. Just big clouds of dark fog. 

But then, faintly through them I saw the red gleams of his eyes. He was still there! The mists parted again and showed me his face. He was even closer. 

A demon! Pointed horns grew from his temples. Skin like hot ashes. Smoky black with intricate traceries that in one glance looked like veins and blood vessels--but in another looked like cracks and seams in a lava flow, molten, red-hot rock beneath. 

I shook my head. This can't be happening!

His face was cruelty in flesh--or what I thought was flesh. Heavy brows, piercing eyes, a broad, flaring, crushed nose. Thick-lipped mouth in a permanent sneer.

A broad face. Totally bald. A square jaw. Pointed ears.

He looked down at me, and the mouth smiled--or what was supposed to be a smile. Basically a snarl. Bared his teeth. Sharp. Filed to points. Daggers.

I would've pissed myself, but every muscle in my body was taut as a piano wire. The mists faded farther down the huge body, and I saw it again. The Cock.

Staggering. Thrusting toward me like an atomic torpedo. The shroud of foreskin tapered to a huge, scooping mouth, and as he drew still closer, I saw the big, molten-lava cockhead within. 

I shuddered. My legs were splayed out, my ass bared, strapped to an altar. A demon is going to fuck me!!

I was helpless. Captive. Prey. A sacrifice. Thunder shook the room again. "Sisnapho!"

My father and Herald moved quickly to the sides of the altar, and Dad smeared some of the Black-hole elixir up and down my ass-crack. As it seeped up my asshole like a squirt of gasoline, I writhed in pain. And got drunker.

I couldn't see straight, but I felt the monster mount me. God, how can he do this?? Like a horse trying to fuck a puppy. But in the dark fog, The Cock nudged against my ass. Locating my asshole, it pressed against me. 

As titanic as it was, there was no way it could breed me, but still he pushed, ramming that thing against me. And it hurt, God, it hurt! 

He kept at it, my screaming growing louder and more desperate, until finally, "Zobyathu!"

The Cock pulled back and disappeared. The pressure was gone. 

While I lay there moaning, Herald moved back to the altar. With a deft movement, he touched something against my asshole, then stuck it up my ass. It hurt, too, and I screamed again. Something was stretching my asshole wide! I writhed, trying to force it out, trying to shit it out of my body--but I couldn't. It was stuck in me.

"You have been chosen," Herald croaked and touched my forehead. "Chubog the Great has chosen you." 

"What? Chosen? What in hell are you talking about? What was that? Why are you doing this to me??"

"You will wear the zobyathu until you are of usable size." As he said that, he and Dad began unbuckling the cuffs that held me a prisoner.

They stood back as I scrambled down from the altar. "God damn it, Dad, what in hell is wrong with you!" I was pissed. "Damn it, I don't give a shit if you are my father! I'll report you for this! I'll call the cops!!"

He smirked. "It is unlikely they will think you anything but a drugged-out student on a binge." 

Herald unfastened his white linen kilt and tossed it to me. "You may wear this as you leave." With that, he and Dad, both naked, turned and walked away. Before they disappeared into the mists, I saw Herald reach down to grip my father's ass.

Shit. Now what? I was scared. What in hell was wrong with Dad? I didn't know him!

Something else: Nobody sticks something up my ass! I don't care who he is!!

It hurt. Whatever it was didn't allow my asshole to close. 

I reached under. A curved metal piece about three inches long lined up with my ass-crack. I grabbed it and pulled. Whoa! It was bigger than the hole I was trying to pull it through.

But I had to get it out. Infection! Rust! Slivers! I thought about going to the infirmary, but how would I explain it? And what about the rumors? I've got to get home. I'll deal with this thing in the bathroom!

I pulled up the white kilt, and a cold, wet mess of slime smeared onto my cock. Oh, God, Herald cummed in this! But the touch of the cold stuff started a weird buzzing in the thing they put in my ass, the zobyathu.

Before I knew it, my cock shot out to a full hard, and I was so horny I couldn't keep myself from stroking my dick. God, I'm still raving drunk. I stiffened, fell back into the rubble, groaning loud and hoarse, jacking myself until I cummed--like it was my very first time! I felt the tidal wave growing, growing, and I was amazed, a little scared, but unable to stop. I felt like a little boy.

Then I drowned in the molten lava of my ecstasy, and big spurts of white slime blasted into the air. I writhed in the dirt, feeling it, the ecstasy in every inch of my body. I was a man. A man enjoying the wondrous power of his gender.

When I finally opened my eyes again, all the fog in the cathedral was gone. Evaporated. I was a naked university student lying in the dirt, jacking off in the candlelight. The buzzing in my ass had stopped.

I got up and staggered out of the ruins and hurried back home, avoiding passers-by, moving from shadow to shadow. When I reached home, Mom and Dad were gone--out for another "college dinner." Good!

I ran to the bathroom, yanked off the nasty kilt, grabbed a shaving mirror, and held it down between my legs.

A metal "handle" engraved with strange hieroglyphics stuck out of my ass, a short, curved piece that conformed to the curve of my crotch. I shivered as I looked at it. Again I took hold of it and pulled. 

Again the buzzing began, again my cock hardened. Instantly the lust came back along with the heavy breathing, and although I fought against it, again I couldn't stop my hand from reaching down to jack me off. 

I fell against the wall, again ejaculating like a teenager. Shit. Tamper-proof! I can't get rid of the thing!

For the time being I had to live with it. I staggered back to my bedroom but couldn't sleep. I lay awake for a long time--until suddenly I noticed the zobyathu was vibrating again. But gently. Softly. Soothingly. It finally put me to sleep.

The next morning, I worried about the morning shit. Now what? I went into the bathroom. Come hell or high water, I've got to get that thing out of my ass! I grabbed the engraved handle and pulled. 

It came out! With a quick yipe! of pain as the wide part stretched my asshole, it slipped right out! I was free.

What came out of my ass was a carved, engraved metal device like a top or a turnip--a pointed end spreading out to a wide diameter, then dropping back to a thick shaft (evidently the max my asshole was allowed to close up to) with the "handle" at the end. 

Weird hieroglyphics carved deep into it looked evil, dangerous. Simple letters I couldn't understand communicated malevolence from their very shapes.

I shook it. Nothing rattled inside. Heavy enough to feel like solid brass. But it had no openings, no screwed-on lids, no interior access. I couldn't figure out what caused the buzzing.

Well, anyway, the thing was finally out of my ass. I dropped it on the floor, settled onto the throne and did my business for the morning.

As soon as I finished and wiped myself off, a terrible, overwhelming, undeniable desire, a fucking craze to get that thing back in my ass swept over me. 

I heard a buzzing sound--the thing had come on, and that sexy, seductive sound made my balls churn and my cock harder than the metal ball itself. No, Goddammit, no!

I panicked! Tried to run from the room, but I couldn't! I fought! Grabbed the towel bar, clenched the shower curtain in my fist! But my legs defied me! Against my will, they shuffled over until I stood over the zobyathu. "No!" I gasped, "oh, God, NO!!" But my knees bent, and I squatted over it. When my ass touched the cold metal, Shluck! the thing sucked itself up against my ass, and with a blinding flash of pain, it popped inside. I had the zobyathu in me again.




Bride of the Demon



And it was bigger! A lot bigger. I got used to it during the night, but with this new insertion it was stretching me again. It hurt. I limped back to the bed.

I looked out the window that morning for a long time. Where in hell is my life going? Would the zobyathu be in my ass forever? What did the demon visit mean? He tried to fuck me but didn't. What did that mean? 

I was sick to my stomach. I knew it wasn't over. Depressed, I decided I had to put some normalcy back in my life. I got up, got dressed to go to the gym. 

Mom and Dad had come home sometime during the night. I heard them at it as I passed their bedroom. The door was ajar. I peeked in.

Inside, Mom posed naked, face-down on the bed, one soft leg on the floor, the other splayed out wide over the bed, a big, black dildo stuck in her ass. Dad spread her pink pussy-lips with the fingers of one hand and with the other pulled back the foreskin over that giant new cock of his. Damn, it was bigger every time I saw it!

The big thing slid into Mom's cunt, bobbing the dildo above--no doubt Dad felt it as he entered--and his cock stretched Mom's pussy like a tree limb. But all she did was growl in a husky voice. "Faster, you bastard, ram that thing up me! Come on!"

Dad did as he was told. While I watched, stroking my own cock through my pants, Dad reamed her out like a horny rabbit. 

At one point, his hips lunging like irresistible pistons, Dad turned his head and looked at me. Drunk with lust, he could think only about his balls and the seething channel of my mother's cunt, but his eyes burned into me with a grim communication: Fucking was what males were born for. Then he looked back down at my mother's sweating back and concentrated again on reaching his orgasm.

I leaned back against the wall, pulled open my pants, and stroked myself in the same cadence as my father's fuck-lunges. God, it was wonderful--we came at the same instant! 

The diameter of my cock swelled in my hand, the flare of my cockhead spread out like an angry red parachute, and giant, spattering gobs of the same stuff Dad was pumping up Mom's cunt slopped up into the air in the fireworks every man on earth could produce. 

At the same time Dad groaned loud, and I saw slathers of cum running back out of Mom's pussy. He had filled her up.

One of my ejaculations made it as far as to splat against Dad's leg. Dizzy with his own ecstasy, he turned to me again. "Happy Halloween," he croaked, barely able to speak. Mom turned her head, too. Her eyes were dilated. Stoned with lust. She said nothing, just looked at me.

When I finally could, I straightened up, zipped up, and left the house, leaving my cum still on the floor.

I went to the gym, my mind buzzing like the zobyathu was in my brain. My whole goddamn life is turning upside-down! What is causing all of this??

I spent the morning in the gym. Then, somehow feeling like a soldier about to ship out to war, I felt a craze to see Juliette again. I drove to Vazcla, a little worried. What if she finds the zobyathu in my ass?

Keep your pants on, stupid.

But I didn't want to. On the other hand, if she went for my belt buckle, I would be a goner. I could hear it: "What in the world is that thing in your butt?? Euww, that's sick!"

Just my luck, Juliette was horny that evening. "Better get those pants off, St. Naphtali boy." Her voice was like honey running over the side of a pancake. 

Who can think straight with an invitation like that? Everything was spinning, dizzy, but good. Right. Religious! Supposed to happen!

She unbuckled my pants and I helped her pull them down. My jockstrap drooled precum through the mesh: I was busted. "Ooh, looks like something might be getting too ripe." 

She pulled it down, and I went crazy. Damn, any second she's going to see that brass handle!

"Lie back," she purred. "Let me take care of you, country boy." 

God. All my prayers were coming true--and I had a ticking time bomb sticking out of my ass! One look, one touch down there, and she would see the fucking butt-plug! This, the most wonderful moment of my life, would evaporate before my very eyes in a puff of outraged smoke.

But I was helpless. How could I say, "Don't give me the blowjob"?

My brain running 100 knife-edge miles an hour, I saw her hand reach down and grasp me. A wave of warmth--and lust--swept over me, starting from that small, lascivious hand. 

"Ooh, look at that big boy." She looked at it with wonder. God. The most sophisticated woman I know. Looking at my ugly ol' cock like she's never seen one before!

And then the Moment of Moments. Lovely, wondrous Juliette lowered her head and that gorgeous mouth opened over my throbbing cockhead. God. In. Heaven! I was in instant ecstasy! A razor blade away from an orgasm.

I wanted to be cool. In control. Hard to get to.

But, oh, my God! Juliette was in control. "Mmmmmm," she murmured, sucking my cock down into her throat. I almost passed out. And she got me.

Raving like an Easter Bunny in a harem of horny cottontails, I lost it. "God, oh God, baby! Suck me! Suck hard!"

Damn, was she hot! Nothing ever turned me on like the sucking mouth of Juliette. "Oh, God, baby, I'm almost there! Faster! Unnh, yeah!"

Then it happened. I had no idea she was such a pro, but she stuck her finger into my ass-crack. To finger my asshole, I guess--nothing better to take a blowjob over the top--but she found it. I felt her touch it--it buzzed briefly. She found the zobyathu.

Shit. Now it's all over. How will I be able to handle this?

But she did nothing. 

Her hand moved away. It went back to fondling my balls and stroking my cockshaft.

I was confused. She had to have felt it! Didn't she think it was strange? Does everybody have a brass handle sticking out of his ass?? 

But she did nothing. Didn't stop sucking my cock. Didn't stop fondling me. Damn, how many people have a brass butt-plug? 

But my body had its own agenda. "Ohmigod, baby, I love you!" I stiffened, petrified with pleasure, and I creamed like the first male on the first day of creation! Gallons of egg-white down her throat, spewing my ecstasy, the physical creation of my love!

Incredible. Her lips were rubber-band tight around my dong, and I realized women rule. Juliette controlled me like I was a TV and she held the clicker.

Man, it was great! She swallowed every drop. Left me like a limp rag, sagging back in the bed like I'd been run over by her brother's Maserati, and when the tender caresses gradually turned to foreplay, I realized we were going on to another chapter--Juliette was a beautiful nuclear bomb, a volcano covered with orchids. 

She lay beside me, naked, fitting up against me like a second skin. When her mouth found mine, I tasted my own cum, then sword-fought with her tongue as my fingers pried between her legs, seeking out that magic Pearly Gate.

When I found it, a thrill went up my back. Wet! God, she's wet for me!

"Yeah, baby," she murmured in my ear. "Bring it on."

Dizzy with lust, I brought my head down to her pussy, stuck out my tongue, and got my first taste of the essence of love. She writhed and moaned as I licked her pussy-lips open, but I was far and away drunker than she. Bobbling my tongue over the horny little preacher in her pulpit, I heard her beg: "God, baby, I'm on fire! I want you! Do it! Now!"

As I rose on my hands, a push-up over her, she raised her legs, spread them out, and grabbed a knee in either hand. She pulled her legs back, rotating her drooling pussy up to total, complete, absolute submission to me.

What else could I do? I nudged my cock to her cunt, it opened for me, and--Jesus!--I slid in. Magnificent. Wonderful. The finest feeling on earth. I'm home! Where every man should be!

Incredible feeling. Sweet-tart. She spread her legs for me, welcoming me, and every ooh and ahh I got from her was like a compliment, love words in the eternal language of fucking.

Lunging in and out, I learned what love is--all I wanted was to drive her crazy. Didn't think about my own cumming. Wanted to see her writhe in ecstasy under me. My whole goal was to see her eyes go glassy, see her stiffen up with pleasure, see her shiver with ecstasy at what I had done to her.

And--oh, God!--it worked! Juliette went from from "Ohh, yesss" to "Oh, God, yes, yes, YES!!" in a couple of seconds. She rolled her eyes back in her head, clutched at me, digging her fingernails into my back, and--Oh, God, her pussy clamped down on my cock like a vise--she let out a primeval, eldritch scream that send thrills up my spine.

And that pushed me over the top. Like 10 shots of Jim Beam, I was nuts, crazy! I shoved everything I had to the depths of her pink valhalla, and I pumped her enough cum to impregnate her and everybody else in her sorority. 

Je-sus, what a cum! My balls actually ached. 

Both of us wallowed in each other, cuddling, hugging, and caressing. Kissing messages to each other. That afterglow was--I'll say it--the happiest moment of my life.

When it finally ended, my cock slid regretfully back out of her, slopping out with a gurgle. I kissed her yet again. 

When I stopped, she murmured, "Eric--I love you."

No fucking doubt. THAT was the happiest moment of my life.

I spent the night with her. Didn't sleep a wink. Don't know how may times we got it on. All I know is that by morning I could still work up a usable hardon, but I was shooting blanks.

Never thought I could feel so triumphant. I was Caesar Fucking Augustus! And Juliette made me feel that way. God, I loved her!

I never wanted to leave her, but we had to play the hand we were dealt. I had to get out of her room before morning. I drove back to St. Naphtali. 

Back home, I slept through the morning. Didn't get up until noon. I had nothing else to do--and nothing else to think about, so I spent the afternoon and evening working out in the gym--finally I was the last in the room. The gym manager stopped at the door, "Eric, lock the doors after you, okay?"

I was working with the barbells when something cast a shadow over me. I turned around. Wolf Dante! "How's it going, you little fucker? Still got the hots for my sister?"

With that, he grabbed me, threw me back onto the wrestling mat, and fell on me, nearly cracking my ribs. Stunned for a minute as he knocked the wind out of me, I was limp as he ripped the T-shirt off me, yanked down my shorts, and rolled me over onto my back.

He lifted up my legs and mounted me, his weight on my legs naturally rolling my ass up, aligning it with the hard cock he had released from his jockstrap pouch--just like his I had done to his sister the night before. 

The leg straps of my own jock were spread wide, like lane markers pointing straight to my asshole, and sure enough, the big bastard found the zobyathu. "Well, well, what's this? So you're a fag after all! Wait till Juliette hears!" 

He grabbed the brass handle, and it started buzzing. "Let's just get rid of this little butt-plug, and you can show me what your ass can do."

With a vicious yank, he jerked the thing out of me, by then as big as a baseball, and I almost passed out from the pain. Then he spread my legs and worked his cockhead into me. 

My brain was going crazy: That's the demon's ass. You're taking the demon's meat, man. 

If all the rumors were true, Wolf Dante was hung like a palomino. But his entry didn't hurt. His cock sank into me like my ass was made for him. The zobyathu had worked. 

God, it felt good! There was a little pain, but the jab was more like a spicy red pepper before a good meal. And as the big shaft slid into me, I shivered with pleasure. Much better--way better than the zobyathu-buzzer and jacking off! Wow, cocks rule!

Thank God for jockstraps, the perfect male underwear. Everything that needs support gets it, and nothing obstructs a lover's entrance. As Wolf's big ram slid in and out, he moaned, "God, oh, God--so fuckin' tight," which surprised me. I thought the zobyathu reamed me out bigger for the demon. 

Then I realized I had been clenching my asshole for him, giving him the best friction, and it hit me--I had automatically strained to give my partner the most pleasure. Like Juliette did with me. In a weird thought-twist, it was almost like my first fuck with her was training for fucking her brother. 

For all the rumors, Wolf 007 wasn't as experienced as he let on--his lunges were so crazed and frantic, he actually yanked himself completely out of my ass at one point and had to pause to re-aim. At that moment, I got up from the floor. 

He growled, expecting an escape attempt--and I swear to God that was my original intention--but I lay back on one of the benches in the locker room. Couldn't help myself. I loved it. I wanted to be fucked in the ass.

Wolf was training me to meet the demon.

When I spread my legs and raised them high in the air, waiting for him, he smiled, crouched over me, plugged himself in, and--oh, what a fine feeling!--started plowing again. I hated the guy--he was raping me--but I went crazy. "Ohhh, Christ, you got me, you bastard! Oh, yeah, c'mon, make me! Let me feel it shoot up my ass!"

But just then powerful hands grabbed Wolf and yanked him off me. Herald Cobalt and my father had "saved" me. His face furious, my father picked up the zobyathu, touched it to my pulsating asshole, and it sucked itself up inside me again. "You have been chosen," he roared.

"Damn," I growled to myself, "he didn't get to finish me."

I got up, picked up my shorts, and pulled them on. Without a word, I turned and walked out of the locker room. As I passed the showers, I saw Wolf on his back, his legs splayed around the heaving body of Herald. Cobalt was plowing the man to the max!

And to my astonishment, Wolf, the big alpha-male, was broken--"Yeahhhh, take me, you big bastard!"--and as I looked closer, I saw Cobalt staring down into his eyes. Laser beams burning into his victim. 

Controlling him. I shuddered as I realized Herald's powerful cock-antenna was deep inside Wolf's body, its radiations enslaving him from his very core.

With goose-bumps, I realized I was a pebble on the floor compared to the power of these men and the situation swirling around me. I couldn't get my mind around it: I had been chosen to be bred by a demon. I tried not to believe it, but the zobyathu was up my ass. And look what Cobalt just did to the baddest bastard on the Vazcla team.

Oh, God, is that my fate? Skewered on the giant pecker of a demon?? I thought about escape. I'll get Juliette, and we'll drive somewhere they'll never find us!

I walked out to my car and took off. 

Later, I banged on her door. "Juliette!" When she opened it, I pulled her into an embrace and kissed her. Hard. 

"What's wrong? Eric, What's the matter?"

"You will never believe this in a thousand years. All I can say is that I beg you to come with me!"

"Wait a minute. Calm down. Come on in. Let me take care of you." She moved out of my arms and stood in the middle of the living room. 

When I stepped inside and walked toward her, Herald and Wolf leaped from behind me. Before I could react, they grabbed me. I was a captive.

Wolf carried me out of the apartment, slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour, like Herald had before, and he threw me down inside the Maserati. Wolf is a slave, too.

Back at the crumbling cathedral, Herald and Dad strapped me onto the altar again, and the dark clouds of fog began to form. 

Soon I was covered with hot, moist darkness. I felt clammy all over. Sweating. In a steam bath. The black-hole liquor seeped into my brain, and I couldn't think straight. Everything around me swirled and moved in and out of focus.

I looked to one side and saw Juliette! Her face was twisted in a frenzied grimace. "Ah, yeah, you big bastard! Fuck me! Pump me that hot jizz! Give me your baby!"

Drugged and dull, I could only watch as the clouds slowly parted. Plowing Juliette, his cock hard and slimy--was Dad!

He looked over at me and smiled. A demon smile. A hell smile.

I rolled back my head and closed my eyes. At that moment the thunder announced the arrival of my groom. Barely conscious, I looked up. The black demon Chubog appeared out of the fogs. Jesus, that is one motherfucking big penis. I watched idiotically as he squatted over me. 

Motherfuck. Guess he kills me now. I was too fucking drunk to care.

But the big thing made it into me. The zobyathu had done its job. I can fuck a demon. As stoned as I was, I felt proud! Chubog's fiery baseball-bat cock hurt like hell, but I had been in training for that moment for so long, I actually like it. My whole personality was transforming, like I was crawling out of a cocoon. "Ohmigod, Jesus! Give me that big cock! Take me, you big, black bastard!"

The pleasure was more than I could stand. Mind-boggling. Like I was about to explode. I heard myself screaming, "You got me, you big sonofabitch! Ram that big thing in me! All the way!" When I went hoarse, I continued to scream in the soft, wheezing voice until my vocal cords were blown. "Breed me, you big monster! Gimme your sperm!"

After one particularly deep stroke, when the sulphur-smelling demon bottomed out in me so deep I felt his cock dig my backbone, the dark clouds closed in over me. Hidden from me, he pulled back. Before the next stroke, the clouds parted, and I saw--Dad! 

"Dad, you're--you're fucking me??"

Dad's big, scimitar cock, curved so perfectly to fit my guts, targeted my prostate and his in-stroke drove me so fucking nuts, I arched my back and cummed, spurting the family seed in big fountains.

I don't know if I passed out or not, but when I opened my eyes, the fucking was still going on. I looked up--into the eyes of Herald! I had the power-antenna in me! "Ugh, God, I love your cock, you big bastard! Fuck me! Do it harder!" Couldn't help myself. Suddenly I realized I had wanted Herald to fuck me since the day I met him.

He bent down to kiss me, and when I felt his lips on mine, again I catapulted a pint of jism, this time against his belly. Never had I been so pleasured by sex. I lay back to let him plow me. "Oh, yeah, you big sonofabitch! Gimme that big cock. Make me your bitch!"

It was fabulous. His cock in my ass was like being tazered in my guts--I screamed, I yelled, I went crazy. I shut my eyes in ecstasy.

When I opened them again, the big cock in my ass continued to drive me to oblivion--"God, yeah! Fuck me forever! Make me your slave!"--until the cloud faded--and I saw Juliette's face! She smiled down at me like a vampire, pulled back her hips, and the huge cock slid out of me. She leaped up, pushed down my legs, and straddled my chest. "Yes, baby, my little cocksucker, do me!"

My mind was totally blown. My gorgeous, graceful Juliette spread her thighs, and the big, black cock jutted out. Insane, I reached up to grasp it--it's real, not a strap-on. I licked my lips, then kissed it. Like I had kissed her. With my tongue jabbing at it, skewering into the piss-hole.

Then I opened my lips and spread my jaws wide. And I sucked Juliette's cock. This is impossible, my brain kept screaming, but there I was, on my back, sucking her cock while I held onto the huge thing with both hands

It suddenly hit me: I was no longer locked into the cuffs. I had been free for a long time. I realized I hadn't wanted to escape.

Sucking and jacking at Juliette's big cock, I got to her: "Oh, yes, baby, that's it! Show me how much you love me!" and a big gush of boiling jism shot into my mouth. Gulping it down and catching breaths in between, I looked up at her, and she smiled. A beautiful smile. A loving smile.




Bride of the Demon



Then she crawled back, grabbed my legs, and lifted them up again. "Look at you, baby, your feet high up in the air for me, begging me for it." 

The huge cock shoved into my ass again, and she gave me a particularly vicious lunge--I felt it all the way to my spine. "You know I got you, baby. You're my property, right?" I said nothing. "Say it!"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm yours! Fuck me, Juliette, fuck me!"

I heard groans to the side, and in my delirium, I looked over. The dark clouds revealed my mother, standing spread-legged, her face lifted to heaven, wide-eyed, mouth open, tongue hanging out. Behind her crouched Herald, his big scimitar-cock lunging in and out of my mother's asshole. Her lover in front, socketing her cunt with powerful, merciless lunges, invading Mom's body with yet another cock, was--Wolf! Mom's arms clutched him to her. "Ahhhh, fuck me to death, you bastards! Uh--uh--uh--uh!"

I turned my head to the other side. There Juliette lay on another altar, her legs lifted high and wrapped around my father's back! "Fuck me, you big soldier," she growled, and I saw Dad's magnificent new cock slide into her drooling slit, his new foreskin pulling back seductively from the head as it squeezed in.

Delirious, I swiveled my head back to see who the hell was fucking me.

Nobody. The terrible cock thrust out of the dark fog, but I couldn't see its owner. The thrustings kept me in the heart-pounding, joyous, intoxicated near-orgasm. Then the cloud parted and I saw Him. 

The Master. Chubog the demon.

I looked back at Juliette. She lurched her hips at my father to force his entry even deeper, and I gaped at my father's cock as it disappeared. Like a horse's. Titanic. Juliette groaned in a happy agony. "Jesus, you old fucker! How you fill me up! Ahhh, God! I'm coming over here when Eric and I are married!--to be your bitch!"

I blinked. Stunned.

Dad bent down to kiss her, and she screamed, "Fuck me, Daddy! Harder! Ram your baby's pussy! Breed me!!"

My brain could hardly function. Chubog was fucking me. I was glad the zobyathu had stretched my asshole open to professional size, but even then it hurt! It was agony. But the very idea that He, the Demon Chubog, was fucking me was 100% pleasure. 

No longer tied down. I submitted to him, a human sacrifice to do with as he wished. Whatever. However. As the magnificent cock sank into me, electric thrills shot through me with every lunge, burning away all my hesitations. The passion grew until, in my own frenzy, I reached down and clutched each of Chubog's mighty ass-cheeks, digging my fingers into the leathery skin, clawing at him like a wild animal. "Give it to me! Give me all you've got!!"

He snarled, brought his ugly face down to mine, and kissed me! A vicious, manly, bestial kiss! The kiss of a predator. A male in control. A bull craving his release. 

I breathed in sulphur as his forked tongue gouged into my mouth. With that kiss he claimed me as his, herded me, drove me, bred me, cemented me forever his property. 

God, it was like a fiery car crash. It burned me up, crushed me, tore me limb from limb. But I was in unspeakable ecstasy! I was His. His property. His bitch. I would do anything He wanted.

The big fucker got to me.

Suddenly all I lived for was to serve Him, give Him pleasure, supply His every need! I clenched my ass-ring even tighter and rolled my hips to give him better access. 

As he gouged in deeper, I knew with a terrible, shuddering finality that He had accepted my surrender and claimed me as His property--to return with him. I knew where I was going. "You big motherfucker, ram it in me! Spit me on that burning rod! Kill me!" 

The roar in my ears grew louder, the tidal wave of pleasure swept over me, and as I felt myself spouting the biggest chug of sperm in my life, I heard my own scream, "Fuck me to Hell!" 

The balls of Hell shot molten lava into me, filling up my body, burning all the way to my brain. It blew me beyond orgasm, a near-death experience. I was a damned soul connected to earth only by the big, meaty pipe of His cock. It was a leash. I would have that rope around me forever. He had fucked me into His willing, eager property, and I never wanted to leave Him. 

Then everything went black.

-==(^)==-

When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. Mom sat in a chair nearby. "Eric, are you okay? What on earth happened to you last night?"

What could I say? She was there. She saw.

"I hope you learn from this the dangers of liquor!"

Liquor? What in hell is she talking about?

A few hours later, the doctor pronounced me "well" if a little hung-over, and I was released from the hospital. The report was that I had been found by Trick-or-Treaters daring each other to go in the old ruin on Halloween Night. They came upon me unconscious, naked, reeking of alcohol, dirty and scraped, but none the worse for wear.

Mom drove me home. She looked calm. Certainly not as frazzled as somebody who just serviced a number of men not many hours before. "How are you now, Mom?"

"How am I? I'm fine. I wasn't drunk last night."

"But I mean, how did you get into all that last night?"

"All what?"

I couldn't believe I was hearing this. "At the ruins! In the dark! In all that fog!"

"What on earth are you talking about? Your father and I watched TV last night, then went to bed. We got a call this morning from the hospital that you had been found drunk and passed out in the ruins!" She looked over at me. "And naked! I had to bring clothes to the hospital for you."

Dad was lying on the couch watching TV. "Well? Are you proud of yourself? Got yourself roaring drunk!"

Mom left the room to let him scold me. When I was alone with him, I lowered my voice. "Dad, how did we ever live through that?"

"Live through what?"

"You know what I mean. The fucking last night! The demon! Herald!" I paused. "and Mom."

He squinted his eyes at me. "What in hell are you talking about?? What demon?" He raised himself up onto his elbows. "Who is 'Herald'?" He slumped back down. "All I know is that you really tied one on. What are you doing getting falling-down drunk?"

I couldn't believe my ears. "But Dad, you remember Herald Cobalt! The football team! The game tonight! The orgy in the cathedral with the demon!"

"Damn, boy, you've got to be careful with the booze. You can't handle it. You're going to burn your brains out. I don't know how you got to the old ruins, but after the celebration at the school, your mother and I came home, watched a little TV, and went to bed." 

"But Dad, I wasn't drunk!!"

At that moment a Maserati roadster pulled up and parked on the opposite side of the street. I looked out the window. The plates read "JULIE." 

Juliette got out and ran over to me. "Oh, Eric, I came as soon as I heard. What happened to you last night?"

Again, I couldn't believe my ears. I took her arm, and we walked out of the house. "Julie, what about Wolf, your brother? Where is he?"

"Wolf? You mean Pup? My little brother, the artist? What about him? Didn't you like the cartoons he did of you?"

"No, your older brother! Wolf! The one the footba--"

--"Eric!" She took my hand. "Eric, I don't have an older brother."

"But the Maserati!"

She looked at me oddly. "The Maserati? It's mine. My father gave it to me for my birthday. I'll show you the registration." She looked up at me. "Don't you remember what we did before you left last night?"

Before I could say anything about being suckered in to be caught by Wolf and Herald, she smiled. "You gave me this." She held up her hand. Showed me the ring.

Omigod. 

She kissed me. "Eric, I'm so sorry for what happened to you--mugged, beaten up, left at the old ruins. I'm just glad you're okay." 

Okay?? I'm a hell of a ways from Okay! I feel like I've been through a hallucination!

-==(^)==-

As a matter of fact, the hospital confirmed it. I had been "under the influence of powerful hallucinogens." That very day a college botany professor out collecting specimens near the house spotted the beautiful flower of Ishopria Profanis through my window, growing in the planter in my room.

Ishopria was a rare Brazilian vine with hallucinogenic pollen, and a few of its airborne seeds had escaped through a greenhouse window left open by a careless graduate assistant. One of them made its way through my open window sometime in July and landed in my planter. It began flowering in August. 

But I couldn't believe a little plant had rearranged my whole world. For weeks I tried to talk to Dad about it--"Dad, what about Herald Cobalt? What about the football game?"

His response was always to look at me carefully and say, "Eric, I don't know who 'Herald Cobalt' is. You played in the game on Friday night, and you were great! We won. St. Naphtali kept the championship." He took my hand. "Don't you remember?"

Everything at home seemed normal. I didn't hear porn soundtracks through my parents' bedroom wall any more. I could see a nightgown under Mom's bathrobe as she prepared breakfast.

But Dad's pot-belly was gone. He was ripped like a pro wrestler, and his body hair was gone. He still came down to breakfast wearing bikini underwear. 

And he had a foreskin. A big cock with a foreskin.

As Juliette and I made love that night, just before I was going to enter her, she reached under her pillow and brought out a dildo. "Put this in my butt," she purred. "I just love to feel two cocks in me at once."

When I was in, grunting, lunging back and forth against the hard shape on the other side of the membrane, she murmured, "Your dad's really quite a stud, isn't he?"

~~~

~~~

~~~