With a rush of dark, lustful energy, the ritual completed, sealing the pact, and with it, Martin's fate. His frail, weak mortal body dissolved into smoke and his soul was pulled away from the world.
He'd worked for years for this moment. No longer would he be mocked or rejected. His pale skin and tiny, waifish proportions would never be the target of derision again.
He was no beta, and he would prove it to the universe now, once and for all.
Shuffling voluntarily off our mortal coil is a complex process, but souls are like sponges: whatever you immerse them in becomes most of their weight, and once unbound, souls float or sink to one of many places based on how the cosmos interacts with that weight. Your actions make you, and you are what you consume, whether willfully or not.
Martin knew this, and had actively cultivated his soul toward a certain buoyancy. The hungry, grasping lust, the burning jealousy, the white rage of unsated revenge, and an endless depth of perversion had all stained him deeply, and as he shed his earthly body for the first and last time, he was a bloated, fainly glowing mass of a deep, dark purple, twisting and convulsing in on itself.
Martin remained for a short time in the ritual circle, its sticky wet bounds defining his reality as he searched and grasped and felt for his way out, or for a tendril of energy that would signal the attention of a divine being that wished to use him as a pawn on Earth, but felt nothing besides a growing, gnawing hunger that he had no means to address.
Then, he felt a pull, and saw the rush of ten thousand stars fly past, streaking as an odd feeling overwhelmed him, like free falling but faster somehow, and no longer at all localized in his incorporeal state. Before him, the stars streaked toward a deep black starless void, which kept growing larger and larger until it filled his vision, completely surrounding him in featureless darkness.
It felt warm, somehow, and Martin felt himself begin to sink. Over the course of a few minutes he realized that he seemed to be stretching against something as he sank. It felt warm and relaxing, and Martin, possessed of the self-assurance that only a novice sorcerer could possess, surrendered to it readily, willing himself to sink even further into this waiting embrace.
He was the first of his kind in a hundred years. He pieced this ritual together himself, carefully picking and choosing which entities he honored and commerced with for maximum personal benefit. He had filled his mind with such endless filth, beating his slender, insignificant little cock until it was raw and the empty pleasure had deeply stained his soul. He was here for what he deserved, and he would be rewarded.
As his soul bathed in its own smug arrogance, suddenly, the stretching around him hit his limit, and he fell, through the void, out of the void, into somewhere entirely new.
He came through, the same purple mass of corrupt soul-matter, and fell out of an inky black sky, streaking violet and screaming down toward the landscape below. It looked like low rolling hills, black as the sky, dotted with what looked like small lakes. The ground and the lakes both seemed to reflect light, but, from where? No sun could be seen.
Martin was confused. This didn't look like where he expected to end up. Where were the hanging towers? The great portal square? Even the heads of Cerberus would have been welcome, given his carefully cultivated self-corruption. Where was this?
As he fell and the landscape grew larger, he looked around, but still saw no features besides hills and thousands of small white lakes taking up the lower spaces between hills. The closer he got, the less it looked like water. It seemed devoid of life. Worry began to rise within him, compounded by his realization that his fall was accelerating. What happens when a soul hits the ground, anyway? Do they even have mass?
A sudden force caused his course to swerve directly toward one of the lakes, the last few seconds of his fall a streak of startled terror.
He impacted the white surface of the lake, expecting pain, but feeling only a soft, total embrace. His emotions relaxed immediately and he once again surrendered to a feeling without much thought, sinking slowly into the lake, which he now realized was only a few feet deep. He felt safe, comfortable, and warm.
As soon as he came to rest on the smooth bottom, though, a massive jolt of pleasure unlike anything he'd ever known shot through his being.
What was that?
Another massive jolt, this time far more localized and familiar. It was almost like...
A third jolt, and the sensations became clear. He had legs again. He was being given a body. As his form coalesced, in jolt after jolt of blinding, overwhelming pleasure, he brought his legs underneath him, and at long last, stood.
He pushed himself up through the surface of the lake, standing proud and tall, his arms apart, and his head thrown back. The fluid in the lake was slimy and viscous, oozing down his new form in big gooey drops. Martin ran his hands over his face, wiping the slime from his eyes as he took in his first breath of this new world.
His new body was nothing short of incredible. He was tall, solidly muscular, and tan, with light hair and eyes. His abs were a perfectly defined six pack, his pecs were strong and imposing, and his huge muscular arms could probably have ripped his old body in half. The bottom of his abdomen was sharply defined, pointing down in a V toward a truly astonishing cock.
As soon as Martin became aware of his new cock, it began to grow and throb. It hung between his legs, already a foot long when flaccid, easily sixteen inches or more after a few pulses of blood, and showed no sign of stopping. He stroked its length in amazement, his big hand just barely able to close around it as he worked its sheath up and down. It reached its full hardness rapidly, throbbing in his hand and leaking a bit from the tip. It was over two feet long and as thick as a horse.
Martin moaned and started to stroke his huge cock in earnest, his other hand caressing his pecs with the delicious slime that covered him. The sensuality of this moment was total, and he was quickly stroking his whole length with both hands, unable to contain his moans.
As he picked up speed, he could feel his orgasm getting closer and closer, a hanging threat of mind splitting ecstasy just barely out of his reach. He needed a mouth. Or an ass. Anywhere to stick this, to feel it squeezed and engulfed in a way his hands could never bring. Anything. He needed it worse than he'd ever needed anything.
"Enjoying your new body, I see," a woman's voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"Ungh please... help..."
"Help you cum? Is that it? Help you with that massive, throbbing new cock of yours?" Her words were like drops of pure blinding bliss, driving Martin mad but still keeping his orgasm out of reach. His mind swam for the filthiest thoughts he could find, his hands frantically worked his huge erection, but still he found no release.
"I think I see the problem," the voice said. "You aren't quite finished yet," an ethereal giggle rang through the air, and Martin's enormous cock throbbed intensely, nearly doubling him over. After a few such throbs, it started to grow, getting just a little bit longer and thicker with each beat of his corrupted, selfish heart. Martin's mind was overwhelmed, he started using his forearms to help stroke the enormous amount of delicious, sensitive cockflesh he now possessed. It was easily three feet long by this point, and Martin was completely infatuated with it.
His invisible companion only grew more amused. "What's the matter, you horny horny boy? You sat here for such a long time, frantically jerking that wonderful new cock of yours, praying to anyone that can hear about how badly you need a mouth to stick it in. Now it's so big, you can just use your own."
The realization hit Martin's obsessed mind like a freight train, and without a single thought he pulled his enormous cock up against his chest and took its head into his mouth. The feeling of his lips and tongue on his own cock head was incredible, and he was shocked at how hot the taste of his own pre was. His cock somehow got even harder, and he hugged it close against his pecs, getting as much of it into his mouth as he could.
"Good boy," the sultry voice said. "Now show me what a good little cock loving whore you are and cum."
Part of Martin recoiled at being accused of submissiveness, but the rest of him just came, more intensely than anything he'd ever experienced. The feeling of his mouth was incredible, and as spurt after spurt after spurt of his hot cum shot into his mouth, he gave no thought at all to spitting or taking his mouth away. How could he possibly interrupt this feeling? He would keep his mouth on this cock... *his* cock... no matter what. As his mouth started to fill, he started to swallow just to avoid interrupting the sensation.
"What a good little slut you are," the voice cooed, but Martin remained unaware. He was frantically swallowing his own cum, working both hands up and down his huge cock as he hunched over its length, swallowing desperately. "Here, let me make you more comfortable."
With that, Martin's orgasm finally came to a close, and he removed his face from his cock, moaning as a drool of his cum slid down his face onto his chest. Martin immediately moved his hand to rub it around his pecs, but stopped himself in confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be on the other side of this kind of sex?
