(DISCLAIMER: The following story is highly explicit. 18+ readers only.)
*****
Looda cursed his rotten luck. He was a prisoner, and his captors were taking him to be consecrated. The ritual would expel him from the earthly plane, banishing him to the infernal abyss where he'd remain for all eternity, slaving away in the profane breeding pits, submerged in the Great Rut's undulating sea of tortured souls.
Not that he minded the breeding pits themselves. He was, after all, a demon of carnal pleasure. The pits were his home, and he remembered them fondly. Working with the breeders, breaking in the new arrivals, stoking their libidos, joining in on their mating sessions-- he should have been content with his life in the pits. But alas, his lust was too great. Fellow demons whispered tales of the human realm, a paradise with cities full of untainted souls, ripe with luscious, unplucked fruit. Looda craved to visit, but crossing over was a rare privilege reserved for the archdemons. One day, he grew tired of merely masturbating to fantasies of the fertile realm. He schemed and snuck and stole the next summoning to the earthly plane.
And when he returned there would be hell to pay.
All that plotting for a shot at conquering the human realms, and he'd blown it on the first day. Or, rather, he'd blown the prince of Emeria under the banquet table and been discovered. The court had a paladin of Zin on staff, and it wasn't long before Looda's body was destroyed and his spirit bound into the object that happened to be closest at hand.
The covered wagon hit a bump and he wobbled, nearly falling over. He was a silver butt-plug now, completely immobilized and helpless, stuffed into a cargo net with a collection of other demonic artifacts on their way to be destroyed. Being a butt-plug might have been an entertaining experience if he wasn't in the possession of these Order of Zin prudes. They were no fun at all.
One of them pushed through the canvas flap and entered the wagon. She was a pretty thing, right in the prime of her beauty, with fair, blemishless skin and ample curves. Such a shame, Looda thought, that she kept her best assets hidden under those long, white robes. She was searching for something. Her eyes passed over the obscene butt-plug protruding from the net, and she scoffed. He tried to cat-call, but alas, he had no mouth.
"Do not dally in there, Isabelle," called a stern voice from outside.
"Yes, Conservator," she replied, her voice as fresh as a mountain spring.
Isabelle reached for the storage hanging high above Looda. She stood on her tippy-toes and stepped over him, giving the bound demon an excellent view up her robes. Unfortunately, her underwear kept her privates well-hid, but Looda appreciated the rounded bulge of her ass and the smooth, pale skin of her thighs.
Just then the wagon hit a crevice in the road and gave a mighty jump. It rocked and wobbled, assorted artifacts bouncing and clattering against each other. Isabelle's shoe slipped on the polished wood, and she fell backwards with a surprised yelp. Time seemed to slow for Looda as he watched her bottom, in that plain underwear, collapsing down upon him. Her cheeks funneled his narrow tip into the crevice of her crack where he caught against the hidden divot of her anus. Her weight crashed down, and with a audible riiip, butt-plug Looda tore through the thin fabric of her panties and sank into her ass. The bulb at the base of his shaft slowed her fall for a split-second before it too popped in, and she settled, sitting on his flared base.
Isabelle gasped, and Looda felt cold air rushing into her lungs. He saw the wagon's clutter grow blurry as tears welled in her eyes, and he felt the burning soreness of the plug lodged in the girl's tight, uninitiated ass.
I can't believe it, Looda thought, I'm inside her!
Isabelle glanced about. "What's inside me?"
"Just a harmless sex toy," answered Looda.
"Just a sex toy." Isabelle groaned.
Looda marveled at the strange feelings of this new body. He'd never been a female before, and as the wagon jolted down the bumpy road, Isabelle's breasts shook with it. Her generous rear absorbed most of the chaos from the rattling cart, bouncing and vibrating, awakening twinges of pain from her stuffed asshole. He liked it, and he grew giddy with excitement. This was his second chance! Now that he had a body, he was free to spread his lust across the land, and there was nothing in the world that could stop him!
A young man's face appeared through the wagon's canvas flap door. "Isabelle!"
He had a handsome, boyish face and silver-blonde hair. He looked to Looda like an ideal lover, but then Isabelle's eyes caught the glint of his silver brooch, a circle circumscribing a square, the symbol of Zin.
Panic gripped him, and Isabelle jumped to her feet, her robe concealing the metal plug lodged in her rear. "Andry! By the light, you startled me."
"Sorry. Is everything okay in here?"
"No, I--" she started.
Looda snapped her mouth shut. Everything's fine! he urged.
"I'm fine," echoed Isabelle.
Andry relaxed. "Good. I was worried about you. There's lots of dangerous artifacts in here."
"I know," she scoffed, her ass clenching around the plug.
"Of course you do," he smiled. "But demons will be the least of your worries if you don't hurry up with that waterskin. Conservator Renout is getting impatient."
"I'll be right there."
Andry nodded and disappeared back outside.
Isabelle sighed in relief, her heart beating fast enough for both her and Looda. That was a close one.
"Why didn't I tell him?" she muttered, reaching back to feel the cold hardness nestled between her plump cheeks. The touch brought a hint of pleasure that was more tempting to Looda than the scent of a freshly baked apple pie.
Isabelle was brimming with delectible, untainted quintessence. Pure human essence. He wanted nothing more than feast right here and now. He'd spark her dormant libido, kindling it into a raging fire that she couldn't ignore. Then she'd do the work herself: throw off her robe and plunge those delicate fingers between her legs. She'd stroke and moan and when she came, he'd consume all of her quintessence in a single glorious gulp. He could picture it now, her muscles writhing and clenching in orgasmic bliss as her virginal human body transformed into a stunningly exotic demonic figure. Oh, and when the prince's warriors saw her, they'd reach for their cocks instead of their swords.
As he fantasized, the ache in her ass faded into throbbing bliss. Isabelle's face flushed. Her breathing quickened.
But he cut the thought short. That sort of greed had been his mistake last time. The conservator and that fresh-faced boy Andry would have his spirit bound back into that butt-plug before he could seduce a single soul. This time he had to be subtle. At least to start.
Isabelle withdrew her hand and stepped toward the exit. "I should tell Conservator Renout."
Looda halted her feet, straining in his weakened state. You'll be punished!
"It's forbidden to be penetrated. I could be demoted."
"No one needs to know."
"I could remove the thing myself. . ."
"Yess," Looda hissed, "it was only a harmless accident."
"Just a momentary lapse," Isabelle breathed, "nothing serious."
She took a squat and reached her hand up her robe, glancing furtively about the inside the the wagon as if she half expected to find the conservator crouched behind a barrel. Her slender fingers wrapped around the base of the plug and gave a pull.
Youch! That stung, and the plug was still lodged in place.
Gentle. . . Looda thought, Relax. You're fragile; coax it softly. Work it back and forth, loosen yourself up.
Isabelle closed her eyes. Her hand twisted and tugged the toy with a deftness not her own. Now that felt good. The taste of pleasure was on Looda's tongue now, and oh, how he wanted to feast. He drooled, and Isabelle's pussy dripped with his saliva.
Now, take a big, deep breath, and when you exhale, we're going to ease it out. Ready? Breathe in in in-- hooooold it-- and let it go.
Isabelle's breath turned into a sigh of relief as the plug slurped free and clattered to the floor. Looda, exercising an unprecedented level of self-control, shaved only the most meager sliver of her honey-sweet essence into his mouth. As he swallowed, her anus flushed with tingling heat, puckered, and swelled permanently larger.
The more of her quintessence he consumed, the more his own spirit filled the void, the more her body would express her developing demonhood. It was inevitable, but he could slow the process, feed only to sustain himself, lay low until the time was right.
Does she even know I'm here?
Isabelle jumped and hid the plug behind her back. "Who's there?"
Once again she checked for intruders. Finding none, she grabbed a rag, wiped the plug clean, and shoved it back into the net. She then reached into the upper storage and retrieved a leather sack with a small nozzle that looked, to Looda, like a disembodied breast. Holding the 'waterskin' under her arm, she pushed through the wagon's canvas door and into the brightness of the world beyond.
The sun blazed the chill from Isabelle's skin. Recent spring rains had coaxed the first green sprouts from the fields of broken, unkempt straw. This world was nothing like the abyss. Birds chirped, leaves rustled. It was alive with purity and hope. Isabelle hustled around to the front of the wagon.
"There you are, Isabelle. I thought I'd die of thirst."
Conservator Renout's voice was as high as a child's but breathy and harsh. He trudged beside the oxen, flicking the reigns to motivate them through the dirt-road muck. Isabelle hurried over, bowed her head, and presented the waterskin.
"My deepest apologies, Conservator."
