Story description: Four men, not exactly friends, visit a demon and get transformed.
What to expect: urban-fantasy-type magic and transformations and some of the aftermath of dealing with demons that do not give people exactly what they want.
Muscle, height, cock transformation, pussy, dub-con, magic, demons, harsh language, big dick, straight to gay, sex slave, nullo, centaur,
This is kinda weird shit!
Enjoy~
~~~~~
Four men donned robes and masks as they entered the Warlock's Mansion on a clouded, full-moon night. They had no flashlights or phone lights and the house had no lights at all. The mansion itself was derelict. Broken here and there. One of the men noticed a hole in the floorboards and pointed it out to the others on the way in.
"Dammit I would have stepped in that," said the second in line, his voice kinda squeaky.
"Shut up, Pete," said the third man in line, the tallest one of the bunch.
"No names!" said the fourth one, the fat one, trying and failing to be quiet.
The guy in front shushed them all. He was the only truly authoritative one in the bunch, and two of the guys listened to him.
The third one said, "Fuck all of you, fags, we should be able to use our phone lights."
"No lights," said the first one.
The third one grumbled and they stumbled on a raised floorboard. He caught himself but a litany of curses escaped him.
That's what truly woke up the demon of the house.
Malsabolg watched them, smirking in the shadows. They would be fun to play with, tonight. His cock was already achingly hard as he held to the ceiling, as the college men walked under him. He jacked his cock a little and came, sprinkling them all with little drips of cum that none of them noticed at all, though they did notice his wailing moan.
All of them shuddered.
The second guy, Pete, squeaked, "I didn't like the sound of that."
"That means this is happening, if we do it right," said the guy in the lead, walking faster.
Malsabolg liked the one in the front. He hoped the guy got what he wanted, though no one ever truly did.
The boys made slow time, avoiding the problems in the house that would have made them turn on their phone lights and solve, lest one of them die due to injury and blood loss, or whatever. Holes in the floor, missing staircase steps. A low beam that might have cracked open a skull. Little things. Just tests, to make sure they were paying attention and that they were truly frightened. Frightened souls were easier to mold, after all.
They were all fucking terrified already.
This was great!
Malsabolg floated through the shadows, the dark, looking at his new prey.
Running a hand along the shapes of their souls, Malsabolg found ingress with the second one, with Pete, the most. One of them had foolishly said the boy's name, after all.
Pete was terrified of many things; of girls, of boys, of men, of women, of himself. Oh! How he hated himself. He wanted to be someone else. Well, that was good. That's what Malsabolg did, after all. Pete was very much omnisexual, too, though he was scared of that fact, and so he had let that part of himself languish, not giving into any fantasies real or even imagined.
From there, Malsabolg moved to the leader, the first in line, using what he knew about Pete to find out about...
Leon.
That is what his soul told Malsabolg. The first boy was Leon.
Leon was a man with several physical conditions. Skin, hair, eye, bone. He was the ringleader. He wanted this more than anyone else. He'd probably die at age 30 due to those various conditions, and he saw the writing on the wall, so he wanted to change it. He was who Malsabolg had to thank for getting the others involved.
If only 1 person came to the house on a moonlit night, then they got well and truly fucked.
But 4 at once was the proper number, to spread out all the transformation magics that Malsabolg liked to inflict upon the petitioners. 4 people allowed Malsabolg to do much bigger magic, too, which was always fun.
Malsabolg was looking forward to having fun with them all, especially the third one, the tall one, who was named...
James.
James was the utter asshole. The one ringed into this because he sought power and prestige and demons could give that to a guy, but James didn't want to come alone, either. He knew he'd end up poorly
He was rich and tall, and in any normal world that would have done everything for him that he needed done, but he was...
Oh.
Everyone in the group hated him, and he hated them, too.
He wasn't a friend at all.
Oh!
That was delicious!
James had blackmailed his way into this group by threatening to--
James spat at the entire group, "This is just some fucking joke, isn't it. I got those fucking pictures on a timer. If I don't stop the timer then everyone will know you're all a bunch of fags."
The group paused, each of them in their own way. The first guy tsk'd. The second one's cock stood hard and desirous, but its owner was scared. The fourth one was just fed up.
James smacked into Pete because they had all stopped. He slapped the back of Pete's head, saying, "Don't shove your ass at me!"
Pete defended himself, "I didn't!"
James snorted, "You want my cock that bad eh, faggot?"
Pete stepped forward, squeaking, "N... no!"
Oh. My. Gods.
The degradation! The shaming! The pure lust in Pete's eyes, and the hate in James', though neither of them could see it!
Malsabolg almost came again, right then and there.
In fact!
He did so, spurting down the back of James's robe.
The fourth guy in line, the near-morbidly-obese one, noticed the fresh slick of liquid dropping down James's robes.
The fourth guy glanced upward to look at the ceiling, but he said nothing about that.
Instead, he tried to play peacekeeper, "It's real, number 3. The documentation on the internet--"
"Probably just AI fakes, Derick," James said.
Derick!