Chapter 1

A cackle erupted from the throat of a smoke-shrouded man as he waved his arms in fluid circuits above the dun-colored stone floor. His face was adorned with black eye-paint made from tar that had suffocated a virgin. His nose and lips were pierced with rings forged from molten metal harvested from the charred wreckage of a fatal house fire. Though nearly hoarse from chanting the invocations of direst wickedness, neither pain, fear, or any lingering vestige of morality would deter Erebus Cain from his blasphemous objective.

Channels had been pain-painstakingly etched into the floor, which allowed the blood of tortured goats to flow into intricate pathways of arcane symbolism. The dark red candles that flickered as they emitted their slow heat came from wax that had been rendered from the fat of seven condemned mass-murderers from around the world. Each one had escaped prison to kill again before being recaptured and finally executed.

A burning brazier to his left hissed with burning coals and red-hot metal. It contained an amulet inscribed with an arcane rune written in a forbidden language whose last speakers had been slaughtered for Witchcraft in a distant eon before the Egyptians raised their pyramids.

""Esh' Ult-kra' athrah! Esh' Ult-kra' naka thok! Sarai'erothkok! Sarai'erothkok!" Howled Erebus Cain in the same forbidden witch-tongue of ancient horror found in blood-inscribed texts thought burned in the great library of Alexandria. Erebus took the red-hot amulet from the fires and looped the sizzling chain around his own neck. Laughing, cackling in delight - knowing the power that would soon be his.

He knew that sexual excitement was necessary to resist torture, and through years of grueling preparation and mutilation, he was able to muster up his arousal despite the roasting of his own flesh. He must keep the burning medallion in place for six-hundred and sixty-six seconds. His mind partitioned itself as Erebus enveloped himself in the suicidal certainty of the insane. He laughed yet again in delight at his own power and control as his mighty penis surged yet fuller, harder and longer in the midst of this withering torment.

It was working; the pool of mingled blood in the center of the Circle began to bubble and swirl as his penis lengthened. The blood burst into flames suddenly, and without thermodynamic provocation as unwholesome shapes thrashed and rippled within the sanguine mass. Then, the shapes changed. They became more human-like, arms? Was that a shoulder? Soon a head appeared. The blood oozed as if flowing away from a form within it, yet not a trace of skin could be seen beneath, it was a face formed entirely from blood itself. A face ... a woman's face rose from the pool.

For no logical reason, the room grew dangerously cold in mere moments. The temperature seemed to drop at least fifty degrees in less time than it took to say it. As if some dreadful, lurking power was displaying utter contempt for the pathetic laws of nature. And so from the pool emerged a bust of a glorious woman carved in blood. A perfect sculpture of an impossibly beautiful woman carved in an equally impossible medium.

Now was the test, all would be lost if Erebus could not maintain his male prowess for the proscribed length of time, all the while the skin of his chest charred. But in moments more, his mental count concluded, and it was time for the next step to begin. Chest heaving, skin flush with heat and sweat, Erebus Cain stepped forward and pressed his hardening cock to the plump lips of the unnatural sculpture. The mouth made of solid blood opened, and bitter cold assailed him as the form began to suck him off. His every nerve screamed out in delicious torture from the diametric contrast of these physical extremes; flesh burning as his manhood froze. The anguish was almost sufficient to dampen his male resolve.

Almost.

But then she arose.

He had never seen a woman so voluptuous and yet so tall, the she-devil stood a few inches short of seven feet in height, yet the sweeping splendor of her gorgeous form was more ripe and randy than any porn-slut could hope to achieve. She emerged from the center of the circle, the blood did not drip off of her, but rather seemed to ... become her. Erebus's willingness and ability to remain aroused under such extreme conditions secured the magic, and summoned this feminine abomination from beyond space and time. The pool of blood was barely two inches deep, yet the demoness somehow emerged as if climbing an invisible staircase up to her full, unearthly height.

After centuries of evil and seduction her skin was still every bit as silky and supple now as it had been a millennia ago. Her breasts were massive, high, perky and temptingly round. Erebus's eyes were riveted to her devilish endowments as they defied both morality and physics as the massive melons swayed brazenly before his eyes. Only with both thumbs touching would the summoner be able to encompass the mammalian grandeur of each tit. He snarled with an animal urge to bury his face in that pencil-swallowing natural cleavage that her bosom maintained even without the benefit of a bra. Cascades of ruby-red hair trailed onto each sweeping breast like lava down a volcano slope.

Bat-like black and red wings unfolded luxuriously as she swayed her red tail. It was not the mythical arrow-pointed devil's tail, the end was more like a scorpion's stinger.

"Mistress of Flame and Lust..." Erebus began.

"I am yours to command..." The demoness purred in a voice to send tingles along the penis.

"Now demon, you will submit to my will as I bind you with a mighty ritual!" Erebus Cain pointed threateningly at her bosom. The demoness smiled coyly and shifted her ripe hips to accentuate her fantastic curves.

"Through the great working of sorcery I shall conceive, you shall aid me in bringing a new, dark age of lust and mayhem upon this benightedly mortal world!" The achingly perfect face of the horned she-devil nodded slightly, but was there a hint of skepticism in her expression.

"You doubt me, Mistress of Flame and Lust, but I am privy to the deepest mysteries of the cosmos, wedded to magics both dark and terrible in a way that the petty, scurrying mortals dare not imagine!" He clenched his fist with frothing-mouthed megalomania.

"And ... what role am I to play in your sweeping plans of Earth-shattering importance?" She cooed. Before responding, Erebus put his hand upon her generous hips to caress the thighs and ass of the sultry sex-devil. A growl of lust erupted from his lips.

"My spell ... will plant my Sigil upon you, binding my fate to yours; after which..." He licked the underside of a massive boob, thrilling at the throbbing heat of her sumptuous flesh. "I will then plant my ... seed within you, succubus ... and you will grow ripe with the half-breed young I shall father upon you; each child born shall be a demonic seductress, that I shall use to create an invisible army of magic and enticement, that will allow me to squeeze this world of every scrap of wealth and power, whilst delivering yet more souls unto you!" Was that a momentary flash of anger upon her flawless face?

"From your womb, I shall spawn a coven of hell-whores that shall serve as my personal harem and agents of seduction and assassination! You should be pleased, succubus. By breeding half-demon spawn to be released on this Earth, you shall be responsible for much mayhem in the world of mortals." Erebus thought it strange, the ravishing harlot of hell nodded, but raised her eyebrows in an expression one might reserve for a beloved dog that had just vomited on the carpet.

"The task you propose ... is a daunting one." Her voice was like acidic honey. "For me to breed a harem of demonesses under your control ... it would not be easy to - satisfy the appetites of a - of my kind." She caressed his shoulders, and began to smother his stripe-painted face with her voluminous boobage. "If you cannot satisfy the fiery cravings of young demonesses, your fate will be - other than what you suspect."

"Dare not underestimate my resolve, succubus!" He jabbed a finger into her soft tit. Of course, as close as she was standing, it was difficult to make any movements that would not at some point involve touching her breasts. She caressed his leg with her own soft, feminine foot with red, clawed nails.

"Do you truly know what it is feel a lust so strong that you would destroy yourself for gratification?" That was when the musk hit him. The sinister, brimstone-hinted musk that at once repelled and attracted. An odor at once unwholesome yet compelling; promising vile ruttings and sweat-stained sheets, with urges that neither could deny. Erebus quivered, his penis bobbing, yet when his fluttering eyelids opened once more, his expression remained resolute.

"I have the power to compel you, succubus. And why should you resist? Is this not why you exist? For lust, and sex, and mayhem? I grant you the chance to bring fresh souls to your burning realm of tortured brimstone with rivers of blood and flame! My forbidden sorceries have created an opportunity for you to birth a new dark-age from betwixt your shapely thighs!"

"And we shall see, wizard ... whether you are the man ... whether you are - up ... to the task." She brushed his rigid, wildly erect penis as she walked around him in a circle. She returned to his face and began an indecent posturing, bending over deliberately as she used her tail to caress and accentuate her impossibly curvaceous ass. Hellish musk assailed Erebus, causing him to gnash his teeth in lust. His hands upon her flesh. He moaned as he palmed and kneaded skin more supple than he could have imagined. To touch her seething flesh! Her skin was like milk woven into fabric, and made into a pillow. The slightest brush, or a feverish grip was absolute female perfection.

The demoness Sarai'erothkok, was not at all on the same page as this cackling psychopath. But she had eons of experience with men in general, and his type of man specifically. He had to be handled quickly, but indirectly. That was the problem with being summoned; any half-way competent mage would put all sorts of wards preventing her from directly harming him. She needed to get back to her 'burning realm of tortured brimstone'. It was her turn to drive carpool from the daycare center.

By allowing herself a more youthful and sensuous body, the demon's clueless husband had responded with even greater vigor than she'd hoped; and it wasn't long before the disguised demon had another bun in her oven. Two buns. Twins, it turned out. She had cast spells to ensure that they would be born human, and as her real-world family grew; she found herself with absolutely no desire to sow demonic mayhem in the community. She caressed the wizard's shoulders as she put on a lying smile. She had no wish to be summoned, did not want to rip open portals in reality to accommodate armies of evil, nor was she interested in seducing the powerful to plunge the nations of man into ruin.

She'd dealt with summoners before, and would have to handle this one accordingly. There was just no way she would put up with being magically yanked out of soccer-games, PTA-meetings, or her bake-sales to turn into a demon and allow this freak to get his rocks off. Yes ... centuries ago, she had relished this sort of thing, now it was beyond annoying.

She never allowed anyone to summon her twice.

First, she would give him a taste of what he wanted, then she would overwhelm him. Despite his control and maniacal strength of will, the sight of her, the feel of her in the flesh was overcoming his restraint. Quivering with lust, the crazed wizard poised his manhood at the moist slit of her sex, preparing himself for the narcotic pleasure that would result from copulating with this most potent of sex-demons.

There were still other spells he would need to accomplish what he wanted. And she couldn't allow him to cast them, or summon her again. If she had to breed a harem for this creep it could mean almost a dozen more manifestations before she could magically birth enough demonic nymphomaniacs to kill this fool with heart-failure from orgasms. (It wasn't like anyone hadn't thought of this before, down through the ages.) But it was the nature of men to bite off more than they could chew. But it would take too long to give this fool the means he needed to fuck himself to death; she needed a faster solution!

He was so close, his cock near enough to feel the radiating waves of infernal heat from her diabolically delightful sex. That was when she struck. Over the eons, she had mastered the sexual responses of both male and female bodies, and so it was with perfect precision and effectiveness that she thrust her tail directly, swiftly into his ass. The point struck his prostate gland with just enough force to provide maximum stimulation with no tissue damage, followed by the potent release of her erototoxin. The scorpion's stinger on the tip pumped out an incredible protein that triggered immediate, overwhelming enhancement of human sexual organs, in a way that would have confounded the most experienced modern doctor.

Erebus Cain shrieked in surprise, arching his back and raising his face to the ceiling. Cheeks reddening, heart pounding as the orgasm ripped through him. His seed splashed uselessly against the firm curves of the demon's silky ass as he spasmed in hellish ecstasy. She found herself content to reject his sperm. Sarai'erothkok had worked out a rhythm over the years with her husband. She could give him the best sex of his life, without bursting a blood-vessel, and his cum was enough that she could sustain herself with her powers at a low ebb. Despite the twist of hunger in her groin, she had the willpower to resist feasting on the wizard's semen. If she needed more than her husband could provide, she could always shape shift and go drain the collective balls of the local Sigma-Chi frat house. Always eager to provide enough spunk to sustain a demon for almost a year of constant activity.

So Erebus collapsed, wracked with explosive orgasms, his dick raging, ejaculating beyond all control. Sarai'erothkok gritted her teeth, again burning with the need to feast on his male release, despite herself. But she had other problems. She raised her arms, casting a spell of her own as the wizard went out of his mind with toe-curling delight. Around the room where blasphemous arcane texts centuries old, most written with blood as ink, some substituting papyrus with human skin. She knew which ones she needed. Fingers of mist reached out and began to corrupt the writing. Her spell would subtly alter the placements of the words themselves on the page, ensuring that any future summoning would go wrong.

A skilled mage would have enough text memorized to spot obvious changes, so instead she simply switched around accent marks and apostrophes on several fourteen-syllable compound words written in the forbidden witch-language. A casual glance wouldn't even catch the changes. Even an in-depth scrutiny would likely be clueless. But the effects would be ... similar. Except that it wouldn't be her that was summoned!

When Erebus cast his spell again, he would actually be targeting another demon of her lineage. Except that there weren't any others of her kind bound by the wards that would be substituted! He would think to summon her, but if all went well, all he would do was open a gateway to the outer-darkness! Her red lips furled in a pleasant smile. Perhaps NASA would detect his desiccated corpse orbiting the International Space Station!

"For next time, we don't like being called Succubi. That's a myth. I am Lilim. I am the reality!" She growled at the thrashing figure. Common misconception.

But next time would be more difficult; for now all the wizard would notice would be his cock. Her erototoxin was having a dramatic effect in mere moments. Already, his seven inches had grown to eight and a half, his balls were tight and swollen, and his orgasm had been an ongoing eruption of paralytic pleasure. The sultry demoness chuckled to herself. So he wanted a harem did he? Just as well, her demonic venom would send him into a spiraling overload of virility. His dick would grow ever larger, and his sexual capacity would sky-rocket beyond belief. His body would make sperm faster and easier than spit. He could screw a dozen women and not go limp. He could spend eight hours a day ejaculating into whatever cunt fell into his clutches and it would not be enough. And with the size his cock would be, he would never be able to wear pants again. It would take a drug breakthrough just to get him to stop being erect!

Most importantly, if he could ever get control of his supernova sexuality long enough to cast another spell, he wouldn't summon her. It would be some other demon.

A demon she was sure didn't exist.

Eleven. A lousy eleven. Heather Cox had been doing gymnastics since high-school, but despite experience, she could feel her control slipping. And she knew why. Or ... thought she knew. Here and now, at the collegiate level, they had moved on to a new scoring system that the Olympic committee had developed, one that went up to sixteen. The greater range of numbers was intended to reward athletes that attempted more complicated routines, in addition to how well they actually jumped and twirled.

Heather was excellent on the pommel horse, but her grip had been weaker and she'd lost the rhythm she'd established earlier as her legs pirouetted and twirled in the florescent light.

She knew what the problem was.

It was the audience.

She panted as she bobbed up and down on her toes, stretching the sheer white fabric of her spandex leotard, seeming uncomfortable around her breasts again. But that was nothing unusual, even in high-school she'd been a busty gal. With her darling double-D's, there had been a lot of doubt as to whether she had a hope of performing serious routines! Hah! Who was she kidding; her chest was waaaay beyond the D-range! Her balloon-like boobs were positively pornographic in dimension! The couch had laughed when Heather had first tried out. Best female athletes were pretty flat by comparison. Yet Heather had always maintained an almost preternatural dexterity and control of her body. Her toned legs had only gotten stronger, more shapely since high-school, towering and sculpted. She was developing the figure of an ideal work-out babe, yet with the largest tits on the gymnastics squad her womanly charms were growing beyond formidable.

Up close, most guys seemed to want to bob their heads up and down like yo-yo's as they tried to decide whether to stare at the shapely power of her perfect legs, or the ripened boobage that fought against containment in her spandex leotard. And she always wore white, as often as possible. Her curves were more pronounced.

But more than becoming athletic, she felt that she was - becoming ... growing ... she was on a path that needed to be brought to final resolution. What she hoped to achieve or become ... she couldn't be sure yet. She was sure that she relished the electric thrill that came from having men ogle her. A little taller, since high-school, strange though - her breasts seemed ... perkier, than in the past. Twin globes of ripe womanly splendor jutted fiercely from the thin white fabric, almost as if her boobs wanted to thrust forward yet further to make up for the restraint imposed by the tight top. Her mountainous G-cups seemed to rise upwards with the passage of time; as if her plump mams were dissatisfied with the attention received from the groping hands of high-school guys, and wanted to jut upwards to prominence to attract yet more admirers.

Other things had changed since High school as well. Her hair was getting positively ... redder. It had begun to grow out a deep, almost blood-like color. Weird thing was, even when she dyed it different colors, she could always detect a trace of that intense ruby hue seeping back in, and not in the roots either! The hair dyes she used must be too cheap.

But her performance was slipping lately.

Luckily this was just practice, but the whispers would begin; ' ... just too big for this sport!' or -

" ... getting in the way of her routine!..."

But Heather knew what she needed. The stands were sparsely populated, and that was part of the problem. Well, her turn was done, now she had to wait and reflect on what went wrong. Oh look, here mom was back. Should Heather be more worried about her mom's weird behavior? Well, after all these years it was becoming the new normal. Sarah Cox returned to the stands with a smile and a wave signifying the boundless enthusiasm that only a parent can muster. But Heather could detect a faint brown spot on the front of her floral-print dress.

Yeah, a couple of times every month, mom would get this frantic look on her face, as if she'd just eaten the world's spiciest hot pepper, then she would run off to the bathroom - if in public, or the basement at home. When she emerged, she often had strange burn marks on her clothes. She would mutter something about being clumsy with cigarettes and try to change the subject. Heather had never been able to work out just what she was doing. Oh well, the busty young college sophomore certainly had secrets of her own! Cheating on Dad? Naw ... it was clear that much of the time she was sealed up in locked, empty rooms. No way anyone could be in their with her.

Then her appearance changed; four years ago she'd been a totally flat-chested frump of a has-been. Middle-age having taken any shred of glamor she might once have possessed. Then, she disappeared for a surprise trip out of town, where she'd undergone some sort of super-experimental plastic surgery. She'd breezed back into their lives with the body and face of a mega-milf. At least ten years younger, incredible tits, even her hips were wider! How was it no one had heard of the doctor she'd gone to? Heather had been totally flummoxed for months after.

Dad ... didn't seem to mind much. They went at each other twice a day, like newlyweds again! Mom's new figure could have won over a stud half her age, but no. It was all for Dad. After the way they were, it was a surprise Mom didn't get knocked up sooner. Now Heather had two baby twin sisters to help out with - not leaving much time to snoop around and figure out what the hell was up with Sarah Evans Cox.

Oh look, next up for her routine was a girl that made Heather growl with disgust. Tina Terwiliger sprang happily upon the mat and began a series of cart-wheels used to catapult herself into a graceful back flip as energetic, pump-you-up music began to bark from the speakers. Tina had beaten the odds; got knocked up in High-school, given birth to twins, but still managed to attend college and keep up with all her classes. The curly blond made no secret of her disdain for Heather; scarcely believing that the girl could rival her own dexterity with those mountains on her chest. Tina's own endowments were scarcely more than a slender B-cup, tips of her nipples barely more than two inches from her chest

"Little Miss Terrible-Two..." Heather breathed mockingly in a low voice. Despite the moniker, Terwiliger's skills were exemplary, speed and grace magnificent as she cavorted and twirled legs, hips, and arms in a swaying rhythm of dexterous showmanship (or womanship).

Ah - but look, across the mat on the other side of the Gymnasium was a guy ... yeah - that was Barry - a somewhat uninspiring fellow that attended the local community college - out of Heather's immediate social circle, which was a plus. There was really no reason for Barry to be here.

No reason except her.

Heather had made it clear that he was welcome to all her practices as a gesture of -whhhooah!!

Heather gasped sharply as her spine tingled. Yes! This was it! She knew, she could feel what was coming! Barry. His eyes upon her. Well, her tits at least. Apparently, it wasn't like this for all girls. Heather had found that when a guy really looked at her, really stared at her with the kind of raging lust that tempts a man to try date-rape, that it did something to her - inside her. She didn't really feel it if a guy just politely found her pretty - but when a man craved her - hungered for her - wanted to drag her down and rip away the mocking garments that he might indulge in a fuck-feast of her ample female charms - that was when she felt the Rush.

All the sudden, she was stronger, faster, more ... alive. Her mind worked more efficiently, her every sense heightened. Other people - Tina included seemed slower, clumsier by comparison. It was like Meth, Speed, and Ecstasy rolled into one - but her it was a natural High. No drugs needed. She just felt a raw current of sensual power jolting into her when a guy wanted to ravish her hard and long. It would be so easy, she could just scamper on over, tackle Barry and rip of HIS mocking garments while she rode him to completion. The first few times she'd felt it, it was amazing how close she'd come to doing exactly that!

There was a core of power inside her - like Barry's lust had just ... fueled her? Somehow? Heather somehow knew that she had a force inside her that could ... do things. It didn't make sense, but there was no doubt.

"Heh, wish I could spoil Tina-Terrible-Two's routine without having to touch her." She joked. Yet at that moment, a rush of heat seethed in Heather's groin, and she felt her nipples tingling, hardening. And from under her white leotard, it was patently obvious to anyone daring to look.

Barry dared.

But that only made it worse.

Heather had to back away, into the tunnel between the stands that lead back to the lockers to prevent the rest of the team from hearing her grunt of passion. Barry wanted to fuck her even more now that he could see just how hard her nipples became, and that just turned into a vicious cycle - the Rush grew stronger, and Heather got hornier, and the potential - the power inside her - the urge to do something to -

"Ulp!?" It was Tina! Her face widened in shock as she stumbled and fell off the pommel horse. Her hips spasmed fiercely, and even though her leotard was blue, Heather thought she could detect a trace of ... moisture ... near her groin? It could only mean one thing. Heather knew that somehow, someway, the power inside her had ... triggered this?

It meant that Heather had forced this girl to have an orgasm just by thinking it.

Tina Terwiliger scampered away from her shame and ran into the locker room.

But was that the limit of Heather's potential?

Or just the beginning?

The movie made her tingle. Would Jimmy think it odd that Heather would pick this movie? They had not gone to a fancy multiplex, but rather a smaller, urban theater whose management had a love for spicier, horror-tinged fare. Heather didn't want society to label her as a slut, but at the same time, she needed Jimmy to make a move. It was that delicate, timeless balance, causing a man to lose control with craving for her young, hard body - but without being branded a wanton whore.

She just had to get every man who dated her so flustered that they ravished her delectable body. The movie marathon in question was the Species series - the busty gymnast felt a throbbing sympathy for the main character - the alien human-hybrid hottie with a thermonuclear breeding instinct. The hot blonde on screen was in a night club cruising for sperm-donors. She went home with a diabetic guy, and realized his condition at the last minute - rejecting him as a mate. Heather's eyes studied her own prospective partner - wiry, head a little too big for his shoulders.

Strange, as her pussy throbbed beneath her deliberately too-tight red knockoff cocktail dress, it was as if she herself possessed some kind of sixth sense about the potential of a mate. Jimmy gave her a strong Rush, meaning he craved her with a violent passion.

That was another beautiful anomaly she had found within herself - since these strange urges began a few years ago, she had never needed to trade furtively-scribbled notes in class to determine whether a boy liked her, she had been able to simply FEEL a man's libido coming at her in palpable waves of nipple-hardening energy. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, debating the need to set up some padding system for her wet, drenching cunt. Her womb began seizing, as if her womanhood was hungering, straining for cock.

But Jimmy? There was something ... lacking about him. Yes, he liked her well enough, but Heather had an ... instinct that Jimmy wouldn't ... last long. As if his physique and endurance weren't enough for a great stress she needed him for. It felt good, she could feel his eyes raking her curves - but there was a certainty that she would need ... more man - or men.

Odd that if never seemed ... possible to resist the urges. She could feel it inside herself; she was already a flaming nymphomaniac, and her urges had just grown stronger over time. Heather Cox could feel in her bones that trying to fight the fires in her groin was a losing battle. It would be like training herself to give up breathing. Losing Battle. Something told her not to even try.

She would have to make her nymphomaniacal pussy work for her. Not as easy as it seemed - she was starting to crave the Rush, and her body felt impatient for ... cock. The silly strictures of clothing and morality aggravated her. How long before Jimmy went crazy and seized her by the boobs to satiate the lust radiating from within? Adding to her present difficulty was the fact that, in addition to feeling the lust of her date, she could also feel the libidos of any nearby men that might crave her! She had savored a cloud of cock-hardening energy entering the theater, and now she could pinpoint three men who craved hot, animal sex with her. The theater was dark, but she could make out a guy with a date - listing after Heather!