Author's Note: This is smut and assumes you're over 18 in reading it. Tags: Dungeons & Dragons, Forgotten Realms, female human x female glabrezu demon: sizeplay, (messy) cunnilingus, large insertions, age regression, loli, unbirth “How dare you utter that name, woman? How dare you speak so lightly such power?” The growling, bestial tone that projected into the Thayan demonologist’s mind is many things. Angry. Incredulous. Desperate. Pleading. Curious. Definitely angry, though. Zula doesn’t waver, however. How dare a demon summoner of her skill and experience, indeed, use the True Name of a demon to control it? How dare she use her absolute, ruthless resolve and the results of years of research, carefully conducted behind her masters’ backs and on the curtails of their efforts to bring about this great, powerful Tanar’ri? How dare she speak the name that controls a malice made monstrous manifest so utterly with such casualness? “We are alone, for one, oh Merciful one,” Zula’s soft, rich voice spoke, a harsh contrast to the deep and booming voice that all but screamed in protest to her mind. The Thayan woman stands dressed lightly in the rather cramped confines of her personal research laboratory, lit only by the glowing seals and the candles surrounding the summoning and binding circle of the great demon contained by the magic the demonologist has mastered. The wizard’s posture, though upright and straight, is almost reverent and disarming. Her hands are held low, the palms open and empty towards her summoned guest. Her robes are simple, even for a Thayan wizard, not at all what such a powerful call would usually entail from a summoning. No rich fineries. Simple work robes, light and airy for the clime of the workspace. The bald-shaved woman’s age could be anyone’s guess, though the signs of age show along the crows’ feet along her eyes and the tiny creases along her mouth. Her scholastic tattoos marking her forehead and brow almost disappear in the bright flicker of light from the summoning circle before her. The figure in the circle shifts posture, the massive, clawed paws thudding into the tiles of the lab, pressing long and sharp nails deeper against the stone but not daring to break a single wax or blood-drawn line. Forced to stand hunched by the sheer lack of space, the dog-like figure stands easily fifteen feet tall otherwise. Ruddy lush fur stands out starkly from pale white muscular flesh along the great beast’s body, coating the outside of her limbs, her broad back, and the slope of her canid and pointed head. Arms as thick as a man’s torso tense at stomach’s height from the Tanar’ri when she flinches at hearing that accursed title. Arms two times as thick yet inch back cautiously above the lower pair, with two bony black ridged claws clicking together nervously like a scorpion’s pincers. Despite the sheer size, the sheer animal brutality the great Tanar’ri possesses, her figure is markedly rounded and with a certain softness to it. Each pectoral is dotted by a breast that would make a lesser succubus green with envy still. The thick coat gives rise to softer locks dangling down her neck and shoulders. And those dark, red-pointed eyes keenly looking down at Zula look positively enchanting and small framed by the jutting (and rather neatly kept) teeth rising up from from her lower jaw and under that heavy brow of pointed, curving black horns ridged much like her scissor claws. It’s obscene how enticing something so frightening can appear. One would think demons do this to themselves intentionally. “I *hate* that title, mortal,” the glabrezu speaks with a weary tone. “You would do well not to speak that title again.” “Would you rather I speak your Name again? Risk spreading it further?” Zula offers back, a taunt that’s sweet and laced with honey. The red-coated demon relents, her lower arms slowly parting and motioning back towards the Thayan woman in mimicking her stance, palms held low and facing Zula. “I would rather not. Speak your will and desire. I would like to cut this visit as short as I could.” The Thayan woman slowly nods. “Naturally, oh merciful Atdzeri,” she says, bowing her head a moment towards the glabrezu. “I would not dare to waste your time from the machinations of your eternal efforts in the Blood War. I seek, after all, only you for this one wish I would have of you.” Figures. A mortal seeks a wish granting entity out for their own gains. If it isn’t a djinn that is called upon, it is an efreet. And if it is not either of them, it’s a devil or demon. Atdzeri usually has her lessers provide such tasty morsels, as few have the stones, or the guile, to call upon a demon of such a high standing themselves. In that regard, it’s interesting to learn how Zula could unearth so much that she would learn Atdzeri’s greatest secret – or any demon’s for that matter. Not just her appellation and titulature, or that dreaded kindness her peers and enemies have given her for her swift, merciful acts of violence and decision making. Her True Name. The glabrezu’s voice projects into Zula with a worn tone. “A wish? Such must come with a price. Though I suppose with this much control, I can only but obey.” The ruddy-coated demon rolls her glowing eyes a moment. “What is it you seek, Zula of Thay? Eternal life? You’d be not the first to ask of such, one way or another. Soldiers? I can offer power unlike your mortal dreams could fathom,” the demon slowly starts to lisp and ooze with friendliness in her mental tone. “I am not wishing yet, merciful Atdzeri. I must make an offering, after all,” the demonologist replies calmly, her voice still even and sweet as can be. Clever. A little gift to sooth the angry heart of the demon, and to smooth over a deal so she won’t be caught screaming down to the Abyss the moment the Thayan’s kicked the bucket. Well, not immediately, for this, probably. She knows this one’s soul too well already. Not a single Thayan has a clear conscience, some less so than others, and Zula’s tally of sins is already juicing up her soul quite a bit for any demon worth her salt. Zula slowly steps aside to her right, motioning with a left hand. From the dark shadows cast by the tall bookshelves Atdzeri notices movement, making her uneasy. They were alone, Zula said. In a sense, they are. A well-kept but still very dead and dried corpse servant carries forth several tomes and bound scrolls towards the circle, setting them down besides Zula. “That will be all. Return to your alcove, slave,” Zula says coolly to the reanimated corpse, which then shuffles off without a conscious sound. The wizard sets her left hand on the stack nearly half her size tall, planting her palm down on the collected works and notes. Her shoulder lowers, the robe falling along her arm to bare her left breast and flank to the light of the circle. There is a slight sag to that bust, but it looks firm still. The dark areola is crinkled and wrinkled in the pleasant chill of the shadows from the otherwise cloying heat outside. And there is no shame or surprise to Zula when her robe falls – she simply lets it hang from her arm as it is. “These,” Zula starts, walking slowly ahead towards the edge of the circle, “are the collected works relating to you. To your own. To a smattering of demons the Zulkirs have gained the means to control as I do you, now.” Zula licks her lips. The words must be specific, after all, for her goals and the demon’s to more align. Atdzeri, for her part, stays unmoving, though even her dark eyes cannot hide the greed and hunger she shows for the gift Zula is tempting her with. “These will be yours to use as you see fit. To destroy. To devour. These are the only mentions of True Names I have access to in our libraries. I will be the last to call you by any other name than Atdzeri the Merciful, my lady.” “I am no fool, mortal. You give me freedom. What is the catch?” The glabrezu lowers on her haunches, her large face hovering closer towards the edge of her much too cramped summoning circle. “Do you believe this gift to absolve you? That this will appeal to my kindness, my mercy?” The words are laced with disgust. “I’ll grant your wish either way. Make it worth your while.” Zula swallows, hard. Then she shrugs off the rest of her robes, letting them fall to the ground. The older woman is thin, her limbs not quite as thick as the robes would imply otherwise. She has no bearings of a mother, just age. Her hairless body, however, is not at all unpleasant to look at, Atdzeri finds, even barring the few scars her limbs carry from punishments and spells suffered long before. “I seek death. I seek oblivion. I seek Zula of Thay to exist no more. Where this life ends, another life begins. I will be Zula of Thay no more, and I will never again suffer Thay again. And if I can strike a blow to Thay before I die, I will do so happily.” The glabrezu blanches back. Death isn’t one wish she hears often. A merciful end, sometimes, certainly, when someone powerful is brought before her. But as a wish from her summoners or her targets scouted by her underlings? That is new. “You seek to die and be reborn?” Atdzeri asks, uncertain how to twist the words to her benefit. Her mind is working feverishly, however. Few demonologists would willingly offer themselves on a proverbial platter like so. And this isn’t a novice summoner, either. “I seek to die, yes. To be born again, but not as Zula. Not with the memories. Not with the crimes I committed. The crimes I witnessed. The things I saw and done. A clean slate. You will make this happen, merciful Atdzeri. I wish for you to bear me this chance.” Zula approaches the circle ever closer, shuffling towards the binding seal, the safety net she has that prevents the demon from being freed. “A soul is a canvas, not a slate I can wipe. What you wish for is but a temporary measure,” Atdzeri warns. She considers the words of the Thayan wizard carefully, a few ideas sparking in her head. Yes. A useful tool to mould and shape. She might not create a fresh slate, certainly, but she could create a fresh start. “Then I submit myself to your mercy. You will bear me this chance. I will be gone. I will start over. Away from Thay. Away from that all,” Zula says with a sad note to her voice. Then she turns her hazel eyes up towards the hunched demon, her gaze steeling itself. “They won’t have you or your ilk anymore. Thay will be dealt a wicked blow with this, and my final preparations. My contingencies are in place. You may act upon this freedom as you see fit when you have granted me my wish.” Zula’s tone takes a deeper tone as she speaks syllables unlike any that Draconic or Rashemi or Abyssal or Infernal produces. It causes a spark of terror in the great glabrezu demon. She listens when the name, her True Name, is invoked flawlessly. “–You will bear me... You will bear me a new life,” Zula speaks crystal clear. “I will break the circle.” The woman steps just over the border of the summoning circle, and in so doing, a metaphysical lock, a magical cage, shatter. Every precaution and every safeguard is gone. Atdzeri could easily wrap her hands around the Thayan’s neck and snap it. Crush her head between those massive ebon pincers. The great demon, instead, slowly spreads her thighs to regard the older woman with narrowed eyes, putting her massive hands to the delicate, thinner hands of the sun-tanned mage. “I am not certain if you are very foolish, or very certain of your fate, mortal.” That bestial snout bares its teeth when she smiles. “Do you wish to test against my mercy?” the demon taunts with a low, silken voice in the back of the Thayan woman’s mind. Bear her a new life? An idea is planted in the demon’s mind. An idea that she soon presses into Zula’s. Yes, bear her a new life. Bear her. Her flesh, her soul, entrusted to the supposed ‘Merciful.’ Imagine the demon’s surprise, then, when that idea is already there. “I sought you, Atdzeri. The Merciful. The Broker of Identities. Pathmaker.” Zula slowly presses herself up against the demon’s lower abdomen, her hands curving beneath the demon’s pubic mound and into the lush fur hanging from her lower body and groin. Atdzeri hisses through her clenched teeth. “I am no succubus, woman,” Atdzeri remarks. “You would have a more soothing end like so, I am certain.” Her threat, however, seems quite hollow. Atdzeri slowly sinks back on her massive, clawed arms, regarding the woman at her groin. “But if this is your wish, I will bear you. A new life.” The demon reaches past the Thayan’s body with a left arm, pressing the massive black claw against her naked back. The bone is hard, warm, like sun-tanned obsidian. “Earn my mercy,” the glabrezu intones. Zula obliges. Her hands brush through the warm, soft fur of the demon, brushing the long hairs aside from the outer lips of her vulva. Humane, if not already human, except for the sheer difference in size – easily three times as large. And oh so soft compared to the toned flesh of her limbs, her abdomen. The woman pushes with her weight against the swell of the demon’s vulva. Atdzeri, in response, parts her legs a little further, causing her lips to spread just a little more. The glabrezu snorts through her nose, suffering the mortal’s indulgence of the carnal for now. If this is her gateway into her wish to be granted, who will she be to deny Zula just that? The Thayan draws her face into the pitch black flesh of the Abyssal beast before her, drawing low on her knees. The tip of her nose, the bottom of her chin, press against warm curtains as dark as oil, until her very face is smothered by the demon’s nether lips. Zula slowly rises, grinding the palms of her hands against the furry lips of the glabrezu while her face draws upwards across the Merciful’s entire slit. It’s enough of a jolt of sensation that it makes the she-demon bark out her surprise at the woman’s insistence and willingness. Or the fact that she doesn’t stop at a facial grind across her moistening slit and even dares to suck at the warm, oozing flesh of her oversized quim. A kiss is placed at the rim of the demon’s urethra, before Zula meanders down the glabrezu’s slit all the way down to the junction of her lips again, kneeling before Atdzeri to kiss and suck where the folds are joined. Atdzeri hisses low, keeping her monstrous claw pressed to the back of the wizard’s body. She angles it between the Thayan’s legs, pressing the ridged and oval edge of the left pincer up between Zula’s cheeks. Zula shivers, her slow sucking and light teething at the unyielding skin of the demon’s outer lips pausing a moment. Then she presses back into the demon’s claw and rises up again, feeling the ridges of the claw’s dactyl saw so pleasantly in between her own folds. Zula stops once more when she stands on the balls of her feet and sucks the source of the tangy and bitter liquid slowly weeping from her esteemed guest’s slit. More bitter and coppery than blood. Up and down Zula moves, every time earning a deep sigh from Atdzeri above her. And every time, she is pushed all the closer towards her dark cunt, until Zula is pressed with her chest against the warmth and the moisture. Her hard nipples grind down across the oddly bumped and then smooth again lips of the demon, and back up again when she presses herself bodily up against the glabrezu. The claw pressing up in between the Thayan’s thighs parts slightly, pressing the ridged outer edge closer up into her puss. “You are quite insistent, mortal,” Atdzeri rumbles into the back of the Thayan’s mind. “Make these last moments as you worth your while.” For all the threat and grandstanding the mental voice of the glabrezu invokes, however, the beast is tensing where she sits, absolutely drooling her enjoyment over the wizard’s body. She leans forward just slightly, easing the she-witch’s work some. Atdzeri’s massive hands, easily the size of Zula’s head each, lower towards the glabrezu’s own lips, slowly spreading them further than the aged woman herself could keep. Her hands so freed up, Zula lets her flat palms wander across the moist, glistening oily flesh of the demon, until she cannot even grind her own body down and up across that seeping slot and instead is faced with the jutting protrusion of the demon’s hooded clitoris beating almost overhead. Without prompting, the Thayan draws her slick hands up towards the pale prepuce covering the demon’s tender flesh, working her slender fingers underneath the skin and towards the positively beating swell of the demon’s pearl. “Bite my flesh, mortal,” the glabrezu commands. Zula replies with a low, smothered moan when her jaw parts just slightly to clench down on the folded skin underneath the demon’s clitoris, pulling at the frenulum. Mortal teeth cannot harm a demon of such power, but the sensation is still very much pleasurable to the giantess, the beast huffing and growling, while the mental voice of the wish-granting mistress hisses its approval into the sodden wizard’s head. Once more Zula’s teeth clench, until she draws her face back to push her lips against the swell of that engorged pearl, sucking it tenderly. It is preparation, of course. Atdzeri braces herself against the wall just past her broken circle, biting at her own lip in anticipation. “More,” the dark, dire voice demands. The Thayan’s teeth press into her flesh, pressing inwards, but never tearing. Thick, jutting horns knock heavily into marble as Atdzeri rides out the pressure, the pleasure, pushing the hairless woman ever closer into her sodden cunt. Fingers, hands, and then lower arms actually work along the inner labiae until they slip into her drenched, oozing quim, working upwards and into her intimate flesh. Zula is relentless in her assault, nudging with her face along the swell of the demon’s clit and back to sucking and kissing the pearl itself once more. All the while, her hands draw back and forth into and out of the glabrezu’s sopping slot, the walls of the demon tensing and twitching slowly on every caress. “Your ways would be wasted on a mere succubus,” Atdzeri the Merciful intones. Zula looks up from the demon’s nethers, smiling under a silvery coat of the glabrezu’s lubrication covering her hairless head, her face, her front. “I know what you are thinking,” the demon retorts before Zula could even speak a word, “and no, it is not enough.” Zula, for a moment, looks struck with anger. “Yet,” Atdzeri the Broker adds with a bestial smile adorning her glowering face. Her dark eyes narrow greedily. “Let us enjoy our solitude just a while longer. That much you deserve. That much I would want. I will bear you a new life,” she adds with a low, sultry implication planted into the woman’s head. The massive pincer draws back from Zula’s wet thighs, slowly spreading wide until she neatly grabs the human by her waist, the broader, fixed claw carefully scooping the woman up. The squirming, naked Thayan witch is such a vulnerable little morsel, after all. “You look delicious, master,” Atdzeri rumbles into the woman’s head, the demon’s face looking all the more dangerous as she parts her jaws, lets her huge, slavering tongue loll out of her mouth. She brings the wizard towards her chest, towards her face. But she’s on edge – the first time she is called master by this powerful creature, after all, and then brought to her maw? “I will invoke–“ Zula warns. “I seek to return the favour. To grant your wish,” the demon returns to the woman’s mind. “One ample lick at your aged body at a time.” Fear still grips Zula’s heart when she is sat on the demon’s plush upper mounds, held back by a giant pincer claw. That thick, black tongue slowly oozes its way across her naked chest, lashing Zula’s breasts with sticky warmth and the demon’s heat coursing through her veins through that muscular tongue. Every lick to her breasts cause them to firm just slightly. Cause them to grow tighter and just a little more sculpted. Until Atdzeri’s tongue draws over Zula’s face and licks away the age one crease, one crow’s foot, one wrinkle at a time. Zula shivers, whimpers, struggles in her bonds, until she feels the demon’s maw near her face. The sight is as terrifying as it is arousing, the beast’s breath hot against her slick skin. Zula’s hands shoot up towards the glabrezu’s jawline, sucking at the tongue’s tip for a kiss that would do more than seal her fate. She feels herself grow lighter in her head. A terrifying worry lighter. A terrible memory of dread necromancy that the demon savours, before she returns the embrace and lets the silly wizard drain herself of every sordid and terrible experience, by her own hand or by another’s. Lets her drain away her guilts of her own or by association. Ah, so the spell begins. Each lick a day from her life. The wizard is tenacious in hanging on to her thoughts, but ultimately, she surrenders herself to Atdzeri’s mercies. Her body slowly lies limp between the demon’s breasts and against the claw bracing her, only jerking and tensing when the glabrezu begins to let her oversized tongue wander across Zula’s smoothening, tightening belly. Zula’s figure slims, but grows firmer. Her body shrinks ever so slightly. And when that heated, burning tip of the tongue slips against her hairless lips, prying between them, the woman bleats out with a cry so much higher than her tone was before. Zula’s thighs spread wide as her lower body rocks up to meet the demon’s snout, feeling the flesh of her tongue fill her with a deliciously pleasurable heat. The glabrezu’s size means there is no penetration, only delicious heat filling her hairless lips and lapping at her tightening and slightly shrinking puss. Zula grinds herself closer against that tongue until the jaws are close between her thighs, Atdzeri’s lips curling back until she is putting her pointed snout between and over the wizard’s lips. A suck, a lash, there and there and there again until the woman is screaming like a girl and the mortal joy drips from her as if she was a wet little rag. It’s no soul, certainly, but with the tinge of her actual juices, the pleasure is undeniably tasty to the great glabrezu. The woman has shrunk considerably. Her features have grown softer. The marks of punishment and of failure have noticeably been slavered off of her hide. She’s shaking with her every breath when her conscious thoughts return to her, watching how the demon regards her with a devious smirk across her inhuman face, licking at her chops. Zula must have lost two decades, maybe more already, in size, in experience. But the furthest and the most recent memories still remain. She pushes herself up from the glabrezu’s breasts and claw, regarding her own body with both admiration and trepidation. Yet still Zula looks back down to those lidded, dark eyes with the red pinpricks burning into her very soul. Still she licks her own lips to moisten them and speak. “More.” “I would gladly do so,” Atdzeri replies into the younger woman’s mind. Carefully, the Thayan is twisted about on the demon’s chest until she’s up with her rump into the air. Zula embraces the demon’s left breast in her arms, nuzzling into the firm flesh of her tit with her face, her ass slowly swaying to and fro. Her motions are halted when sharp, warm teeth press into her lower back. Once more, that heated tongue draws across her naked folds, slurping at her dripping slot. Zula’s cries silence themselves when the Thayan wraps her lips around the pale nub of the demon’s nipple atop her breast, fiercely biting down when that tongue lashes at her flesh like firey spells from long before, until even those nasty memories of carelessness and retribution turn to the pleasurable reality of now. The glabrezu eats Zula’s puss tenderly, her licks more reserved and calmer, but no less enjoyable than before. Every slow lash earns a shiver from the woman, another quarter-inch stolen away, another month from her life. Zula’s voice returns to fill the room only when the woman’s size is that of a girl but on the cusp of womanhood. Zula is slowly drawn away from the demon’s chest, carefully hoisted and lowered towards the demon’s swollen, actually grown vulva. That demonic cunt’s size was obscene before, surely – now it is as if the spell shaping the Thayan’s wish affects even the glabrezu herself. Zula is seated atop the demon’s puffy lips, held in no less than three arms that could wrench and rend, but show tenderness beyond compare. Gingerly, Zula is ground against Atdzeri’s lips and pointed clit. Zula, size change notwithstanding, picks up on the demon’s intentions, gripping the glabrezu’s uncovered clit lightly enough to guide her towards her shrunken pussy. Both slowly move. The tip of the demon’s pearl draws up and down the Thayan’s slit, her body twisting despite the age regression to meet the organ ready to pierce her. Her cries are strained and pained, but the little bald harlot is holding on to the demon for dear life, bucking and grinding to meet the demon’s flesh. Even as the days further regress, she humps and sinks to meet the glabrezu, flesh trying to knit, and failing to restore around the oily pearl filling her. The glabrezu licks down across the girl’s tender chest, licking at the pinkening areolas of her nipples until she’s touching tongues with the eager Thayan once more for another obscene kiss. A rush of thoughts and memories sink into the glabrezu. The magic fueling Zula’s wish, however, continues on, even when the glabrezu realises the memories, the knowledge of Atdzeri’s True Name, have all but disappeared from the Thayan. The demon smiles wickedly down at the worn young wizard, regressed through the decades until barely over a decade of life is left to Zula’s physical form. A vulnerable worm. A weak little target. An easy mark. But she enjoys this too much already. And there is still the last portion of Zula’s wish. “Now I will bear you,” the glabrezu intones to the panting, tensing teen straddling the demon’s swollen lips and rock hard clit. Zula barely struggles when she is gently pulled off the demon’s body, licking her lips. The closest and furthest memories still linger. “Please,” the child all but begs. The massive hands guide the shrunken girl’s feet towards the open, drooling vestibule of her black as tar cunt. Slowly, her pale feet disappear past the vaginal opening. Zula’s chest is heaving with her breathing quickening as the heat around her feet creeps up her ankles. Her toes splay out and her feet press into the warm, spongy flesh of Atdzeri’s inner walls, rubbing along the sensitive flesh. “You are only prolonging this,” the glabrezu rumbles into the Thayan’s little head, though Zula pays it no more heed than her earlier veiled threats. She simply sighs and squirms and laughs nervously at the new sensations washing over her with every slow inch of her legs disappearing into Atdzeri. “Mother Merciful, please!” Zula cries out once more, her hands lowering, pawing at the soft, squishy lips of her executioner of her fate. Atdzeri smiles, though the wicked edge disappears. After all, the magic is altering her, too. Straining against the spell of the mortal’s wish changing her perceptions and her form, Atdzeri slowly pushes the girl closer into her yearning, relaxing opening, her slender hips passing the demon’s lips without a hitch. It’s only when those feet press against her cervix that the demon pauses. How often she suffered before from stronger demons their lusts. Imagine her surprise, then, when pain doesn’t greet her, but instead a delicious relief fills the demon’s core as her body accepts the mortal offering of flesh so willing. The dull ache of her cervix being parted and straining around a squirming, tensing body fills her with a joy that literally oozes from her cunt, drenching the young, regressed Thayan even further. Stomach and chest slowly follow, parting the demon’s vagina no further than the rest of the young wizard has done. Zula holds on with her arms and hands against the moist, swollen lips, however, actually floating and undulating atop the distended and bloated flesh, drawing her legs and feet and the length of her body back and forth against the glabrezu’s inner walls. Atdzeri hisses, her mental voice a warble of confusion before it asserts itself again. “Do not deny me, little tease,” the demon warns. Her expression, however, is one of greedy lust, needing the touches just as dearly. Up and down the Thayan pushes herself, the walls of the demon clenching rhythmically, threatening to draw the child in. A cry of surprise leaves Zula when her shoulders are submerged in the tender, juicy flesh, her breath almost choking out of her. She breathes ever more difficult with the weight of the demon’s walls pressing closer on her. Her mortal eyes show desperation, and then resignation. A thought of desperate thanks. And with a final deep quaff of air, Zula submits. Atdzeri slumps back, her clawed arms holding back at her legs, her smaller hands gently pushing the bald girl further in until even her hands disappear. The girl struggles but for moments, the demon’s walls slowly drawing the hapless mortal in. There is but a small bump visible, protruding from Atdzeri’s stomach when the tiny human fills her cervix to the broadest, and then closes back around her, trapping her in her tainted, dark vault. Zula feels only warmth, moist and cloying warmth, every conscious thought slipping away from her. The life slowly shrinks as well, as if choked off from light and hope itself. The mass in the demon’s uterus slowly recedes, fuelling Atdzeri’s desire unlike anything the mortal has done to her before. The soulstuff of the Thayan burns inside of the demon, making her buck with a joy that borders on the orgasmic. And yet, despite needing this release, this soul claimed, there is still the final part of the wish settling in. Atdzeri tenses as she moves her ridged right claw towards her lips, grinding its saw-toothed edge against her lips up and down across her slit. Her distended pussy shrinks back slowly, dark red fur slowly hiding away the dark, damp flesh of her quim with every sawing motion of her pincer arm. The tiny life is choked, but then nurtured, carefully embraced in heat and warmth and a promise of a new life. Blood rushes through growing veins in the glabrezu’s flesh. Never before had she felt this kind of change on such a conscious level – of flesh moulding to shelter and feed this tiny pinprick of a life deep inside of her. The realisation, the sheer influx of power and of life, all come to an explosive release. Atdzeri howls out with an unholy sound, grinding into her own claw until she has absolutely drenched her own coat of fur between her thighs with her release. The wish isn’t fulfilled, Atdzeri realises as well. Panting for breath, the demon slowly sinks back against the wall. She’s still in Thay, after all. The memories she’s devoured from the Thayan wizard fuel her imagination, however. Thoughts that could do well to fulfil Atdzeri’s side of the bargain. A quiet little life on the Moonshae isles, perhaps? Away from the skulduggery and politics of the Blood War? Atdzeri the Merciful smiles peaceably as she sifts through the thoughts of her recent acquisition. And then imagines some of her own. She imagines images of a childhood without a care. Images of raising a glabrezu-horned girl to become a powerful young wizard again, refining the very spells she has mastered once before. Images of innocence nurtured at a bedside by the light of a candle, reading stories of her own writing. What’s fifty years of mortal life to her, if she can forge the little life growing inside of her to a nasty instrument of her own making? A loyal, beloved daughter? Atdzeri rubs at her lips with her left lower hand, licking at her chops. Thoughts of vengeance fill her for a moment, upon her foes mentioned in Zula’s tomes and notes. The great demon slowly sits up, already salivating at the prospect. Atdzeri can certainly look forward to a life of anonymity and motherhood, for a while...