Empire of Flesh

And this man, he had been no different. As he plunged himself into the hot feminine juices of her womb, his life slipped away even as his lust increased. Men his age, before the twelfth orgasm typically died of pleasure; the strain too much for their hearts. As thousands before him, the construction worker perished with a smile on his face, laughter on his lips.

Astarte disengaged, and stretched her naked, languid body on the four-post bed. Her soft toes teased with his steely cock, which would never deflate now. It was time to -

"Aaahhhhh! Yes! Yes! After.....*hrrnnnh* Four Centuries...I feel it...my womb...life!" The flawless, bronzed skin below her navel seemed to jerk...as though a strawberry was beneath her skin...no...more like a plum. "It has taken....the full life-force of ten men...but now...now I shall try again..." Of course, Astarte had attempted to reproduce before. The first time had resulted in the extermination of three German villages during the Spanish Inquisition. Her most recent attempt had caused the Salem Witch trials and subsequent executions. But now, in this more libertine climate, the odds were far better. But nonetheless, even in the best of circumstances a daunting task, to be sure.

As she squirmed in nude splendour upon the bed, she let out a brief, happy laugh at the life that would soon be born. There was no remorse over the men whose lives she had consumed; nature was like that, some must die that her children might live. Plus, they'd never been happier. The risks were not to be undertaken lightly, though. It required so much semen for her to become fertile that ten men usually orgasmed themselves to death before they had jetted enough of their pearly essence into her femalia. The needed deaths had caused her failure in Salem by stirring up far too much hysteria, and she had failed to successfully conceive. But these modern cities were packed with millions of anonymous, agnostic, sexually-available men!

She believed at last that any further pretense of humanity would fail to bring her true satisfaction, she could not go back; would probably never be a goddess again, so to go forward she would change the rules.

"I....am sick of living in the shadows..." she gurgled, as a brief wave of nauseu fluttered through her, as the pregnancy in her womb began to throb, and grow, at an impossible rate unheard of in the natural world. " I am not...like them....I am not...never will be normal...I...*nnggghn* will have a place in the world!" The sensations changed to pleasure, her belly bulging towards more of a volleyball size, her sinuous spine arching as she writhed amidst the linen. "If I fail....I will keep trying...again....and again....as soon as possible....and someday....I will succeed! I will spawn!" She would get further this time, she felt that she had learned much over the centuries; while the humans had forgotten! The humans were no longer peering under every bush for witches and deviants to burn at the stake!

The next twelve hours were crucial, she would be vulnerable, but the police hadn't had time to be alerted to the deaths, and the staff in this hotel would respect the 'do not disturb' sign she -

*POOOM*

"What? Who could it be?" A heavy shoulder slammed into the door, beginning to splinter the wood! Police? So soon? Was it possible? And here she was with a dead body!

*C-CRASH*

A muscled, male arm with dark skin tore through the door; the corded sinews of an athlete shattered the wood enough to swing wide the door, and a snarling figure clad in a beige trenchcoat discarded the garment, and with only underwear briefs, lurched into the room.

Another Survivor! This one was far heartier than she had imagined; she was truly intending to drain his body of all it could produce, and yet he lived. er...almost. His ebon-black skin had an ashen, pale cast; as if suffering from severe anemia. But there was no mistaking the chiseled strength, imposing stature, and prominent jaw of the college basketball star she'd drained this afternoon. But you wouldn't have guessed that from the size of his cock! An unmistakable tent in the underwear thrust over nine inches forward.

And here she was; nude and panting, a dead man slumping at the corner of the bed. Belly pulsing with new, obscene life - why, she must have seemed past six months pregnant by now! And yet an observer could see her belly quiver, anyone could see the fecund, female bounty gestating with impossible speed within her! The folds of her seething pussy unfurled like a blossoming flower, lips engorged and agitated at the prospect of yet more rutting. Her breasts....they had grown since he'd seen her last; by now each jutting mam was easily more than half the size of one of his fully-inflated basketballs!

"What...what are you..." his sweating face clenched in a passionate intensity that was between rage and hunger. Most likely, this man had never been mroe volatile, more unstable than he was now; with the urges burning in his blood from the effects of Astarte's feeding venoms.

"I don't know....I never knew." She answered, truthfully. Able to do nothing but lay naked in bed, belly and breasts growing tighter with her insidious gravidity. A struggle across the broad, weathered features of the Survivor's face, until came his final, throaty cry.

Heedless of the noise, the corpse or of who might happen by, he tackled the ancient creature, flipped her on her back, and lanced into that glistening, ripening slit with a piston-like phallic thrust. Mounting her doggie-style, hands groping her belly, and pendulous breasts, his cries were almost a keening wail, as a lost child might make; or a condemned prisoner - a prisoner to his own lusts.

This...this....this was unknown to her! To spawn young and to Feed all at once! It enhanced the rapture coursing through her to beastial heights (or depths) her rational mind could never have imagined! This man, he must have felt the draining away of his bodies' energy reserves as he ejaculated more than was humanly possible....(he'd given her sixteen loads before she thought him dead!) He must have seen the drained body slumped, and falling off of the bed, but the torment that seethed every cell in his body was such that not even impending death could thwart his lusts! Astarte's growing belly rippled visibly as the next load of seed jetted into the feminine maw that gaped for cock.

He made it to an even twenty.

**********

It was a wonder he hadn't thought of it sooner. It was a well known condition. "Another tequila; keep 'em coming." Ordered Harrison to the balding bartender, as he drained another shotglass, allowing the raucous atmosphere and potent drink to cloud his mind of the troubles and torments he wrestled with.

Of course! Liquor! Enough alcohol, and any sort of sexual performance became almost impossible! Wistfully, he mused that this was a better fate than his aimless wanderings as a pornographic vagabond. It was decided then; he needed to keep his brain pickled in alcohol, and hope that such intoxication would thwart the arousal of the demon phallus. He would pursue alcoholism the way one would a career, better to wreck his own life than to destroy the futures of anymore hapless women. But then the music took an almost salacious turn...

Over the din, he heard a loudspeaker announcing the main event:

"Pleeeeease give a warm welcome tooooooo....The Juggly Sisters!" It was with some annoyance that the bartender wiped clean the bar after Harrison spat forth a mist of his drink. That name! No....it wasn't....he hadn't even bothered with the name of the bar he'd wandered in! He'd just charged into the first place he'd come to that served alcohol. But that name...

The circular stage filled with mist from a smoke machine as two sinuous forms became visible as they emerged from behind purple curtains. The hair...the hips...the boobs...it WAS them! How many women had he corrupted!? (He'd lost count two years ago) Was there anywhere he could go and not be faced with the bitter fruit of his accursed loins?

"The Juggly Sisters.....it's a lie....they're not...not sisters at all...." One was marginally taller than the other, but both had scultped figures of lithe athelticism that belied the plump bounty of jutting boobs. Both had center-parted, shoulder length hair, the smaller 'sister' had auburn-brown tresses on her left side, but pure white on her right side. The taller stripper was the reverse: White hair on her left side, brown on her right - forming a salaciously symmetrical match. Tonight, in honor of the season, each wore an orange gossamer teddy, under which each seemed to have a bikini with the design of a Jack O-lantern. And the music cued:

"....dont'cha wish yer girlfriend was HOT like me...?"

Lip quivering, his eyes misted over as the sight of the sleek sluts took him back to his original crime.... "No.....not sisters...."

**********

Surely, Harrison could be forgiven for catching a game at his old Alma Mater, the mid-western high school where he'd first discovered his love of ancient history. But he certainly appreciated a good football game now and again. But he should have anticipated the problem! He should have known what would have happened sitting too close to where the cheerleaders performed!

He hated himself for not resisting more fiercely as the black-and-orange skirted Senior dragged him to a secluded corner behind the bleachers; eyes glazed over with a fiendish frenzy beyond desire. He'd seen it, rued it so often before. He'd noticed her amongst the others due to her pie-bald color, brown hair with a shock of white near the front. After cheering on the Central Tigers, she had been the one seated closest to Harrison's position; though he'd tried to sit only around men. Her proximity seemd to have doomed her.

The girl would be feeling a sense that some awesome gift beyond measure would be hers, if only she could bring him to orgasm. The eerie emanations that his body seemed to produce would cloud her thoughts, causing her to simply forget reason, propriety.........dignity. She would forget why she should not suck his cock, and be filled with an impression of joy and excitement at the thought of the impending sexual favors.

There must be a way to stop her! But in truth, if a nubile eighteen-year old is that determined to suck your cock, it is very hard to stop her. What could he say? What words could warn her that would be believed? As her slippery tongue wove a moist heaven around his demon-possessed member, he became as desperate as he was aroused; he needed a way to stop himself, something to scare her, a way to escape a way to -

"BRIANNA!!" shrieked a raspy, aging voice. The older woman with a crow's feet face and sunken eyes had no doubt come to congratulate her daughter on a successful routine, and had followed her, unsuspecting of the true reason for her hasty departure. The mother was dressed in grey sweats with a whistle around her neck; no doubt an experienced gym teacher herself.

There were no words; no pleas. How could he explain himself? Brianna certainly couldn't explain the mind-numbing madness that had seized her. All the gym-teacher-mother could do was simply yank her daughter free, simply pull her away from her lurid servicing - but it was far too late....or perhaps, too early.

The ensorceled member spurted; almost deliberately, and some of the wickedness landed smack in the middle of the mother's gaping wide mouth! Clenching her teeth in revulsion, she tried to spit out the....the......oohhhhhhhhh.... and her too....her eyes glazed over as the sorcerous taint of forbidden deities warped her soul and began its insidious violation of her flesh. The daughter, for her part, had lost none of the frantic compulsion that had twisted her brain chemistry; discarding her panties she thrust her pelvis against the straining, red-swollen carnal member. And all the while her mother jerked and twisted like a severed marionette, as the flesh-bending powers of eldritch horrors from beyond time went to work against her....recasting the aging body into a corrupt vessel of libidinous excess.

But by now, the urges....the pleasure of the demon cock had enslaved Harrison as fully as the two females. Thoughts...fears...doubts fading away.... he grunted and allowed the wanton women to rut upon his rod. The mother, morphing into a voluptuously enticing shape more pleasing to the wicked spirit soon began competing with her own daughter for the creamy reward between Harrison Coxswift's thighs. But the daughter, Brianna secured the most semen, as the mother spent several seconds holding the creamy flesh of her new breasts, swelling with burgeoning fertility, no larger than tangerines when first the youthening orbs appeared from under a hastily torn sweat shirt, and in the time it took for Brianna to make two thrusts of Harrison's cock within her sopping depths, the quivering orbs of her mother sprouted more than an inch.

Brianna dug in, pressing Harrison against the small stone structure of the sports field's restrooms. Her cunt clenched the beefy prize captured by her strong thighs and stronger sex appeal. The way in which she clenched his ass, combined with the tight heat of her envoloping pussy gave a sense that even death might not be enough to compel her to release the sperm-spewing bounty between her legs.

But mother's sleek, now young-seeming flesh now sported a pair of jiggling whoppers that had progressed into mammalian mounds to put a grapefruit to shame. And the struggle began; she grappled with her own daughter from behind, for her own chance at the addictive male member. Yet it was not until the mother's sleek bosom had surpassed the size of party balloons, at which the two females seemed nearly equal in bust, before the mother got her own cunt around the spurting reward.

The daughter, before Harrison had been able to flee, sported a wider pair of luscious birthing hips to promise her fertility, yet the mother's bosom was more than a little larger....

***********

"Not sisters...." he murmured, returning to the present. "Heh, more Vodka over here!" he ordered.

"Thought you were having Tequila?"

"I'll need 'em both."

"Yer the Boss."

The Juggly 'sisters' had become a mother/daughter Adult entertainment team. The Curse had mutated both of them into youthful-seeming dream women as fresh-faced as college co-eds. Both had been utterly consumed by the will of Messalina, and served her as lust-vessels that existed in a whorish limbo somewhere between prostitutes, strippers, and skin-mag centerfolds.

"....Brianna and Bonnieeeeeee!!!...." came a voice over the loudspeaker, barely rising above the hoots and catcalls.

"....don'tcha....don'tcha baby....?"

The smaller one, the daughter Brianna tore off the orange gauze covering her partner. The athleticism of both women was clearly etched in the muscle-illuminating lights that revealed the shapely tone of champion gymnasts, and the sultry eyes of the town slut. Ah, but it was not truly bikinis they wore; it was in fact orange sugar icing in the shape of Jack -O- Lanterns.... The pair decorating Bonnie was slightly more distorted; her larger breasts jiggled as they retained a shape and size much like that of standard footballs, while Brianna's hemispheres were more buoyant, yet sized more like cereal bowls.

Below, each vagina was painted with black-cat shaped icing, with glistening yellow rock-candy eyes. Sinuously, they danced around each other, legs and arms sliding into and between the thighs of the other, blowing kisses to the audience each time their hardened nipples brushed against each other in naked embrace.

Brianna fell to the ground in a sitting posture, legs spread at an agonizingly sharp angle, sitting up. Bonnie faced away, spreading her legs also until their feet met, forming a diamond-sillouhette of sculpted muscle. Bonnie bent her spine backwards while Brianna arched her back, and with perverse athleticism, the older woman positioned her face beneath the perky breasts of her partner...and licked a sensuous trail....up...up...to the lower curve of the breast...to the nipple, as her tongue smeared the icing as Brianna traced circles with her fingers around the icing-paint of Bonnie's own, pendulous boobs.

This....this shameful reminder of Harrison's Curse would serve as an excellent test of his theory; so far he felt only the slightest twinge from his devilish crotch - the seven shots of Vodka were indeed dampening his response...or was it Tequila? *urp*

".....don'tcha wish yer girlfriend was a FREAK like me..."

Grunting with a highly credible tone of lust, Brianna used the athleticism of her prior life to perform the beginnings of a handstand with her legs wheeling above her, held far enough apart to do the splits, but upside down, in a manuever that resembled a human helicopter, with toned elbows and shoulders strong enough to balance her. While Bonnie performed the same technique, only right side up, with her head in the air, and legs held at perfect 90 degree angles that none but true gymnasts could master. In a shocking move that seemed not entirely scripted, Bonnie moved her mouth closer to Brianna.... and began to lick...

The painted black-cat icing designs not-quite concealing the modesty of both women rapidly began to lose cohesion as the stripper-team mutually licked each other's pussies; in a literal and figurative sense, in an erect '69' type of posture, all while doing the splits. And finally, there came a faint thrashing from within Harrison's all-too-tight blue jeans.

"No....no...you will not rule me....my penis is not my master...." he hissed, taking up a full bottle of 80-proof Vodka Shmirnoff and chugging it down, desparate to drown the demon cock in a river of alcohol. We wasn't sure how much longer their routine lasted, but he was only able to remember one more perverse spectacle before the liquours seething through his blood stole memory and sensation from him.

".....don'tcha wish yer girlfriend was RAW like me...."

The last he could remember was both women, sitting on the stage with both arms behind them, supporting them. Each raised her hips, interlocking sleek legs together, and the strength in their arms allowed them to form a table of female flesh, with hands for legs, as their pelvises ground into each other. Amidst the moaning and music, the Juggly sisters seemed to be pleasuring each other from the sloppy collision of their own decorated pussies as they arched and raised their pelvises into and against each other. They seemed to mean it, they were serious! These women were hell bent for leather on trying to bring each other to climax here on stage! If the gleaming of their aroused labia left any doubt, the passioned grimaces on their straining faces confirmed it!

Two pairs of breasts bobbed and danced amidst the thrusting with only slightly less agility than the performers themselves, nipples bobbing like lost sailboats on melon-sized cresting waves of jiggly, wiggly titflesh. While it seemed that the entire audience of lumberjacks and bikers were riveted by this perversion, every few seconds one of the hairy men in attendance would jerk suddenly, adjust his pants, and after quivering for a tense moment, he would excuse himself to the Men's room.

But their eyes were the worst, dark orbs that Harrison knew...could sense were singling him out....out of all those present, it was clear that they knew him, remembered him....craved him! After that....things became blurry.

**********

He could only hope he didn't remember everything. But he knew now, for certain that while alcohol might have put him under the table, his treacherous, sorcerous penis was able to adapt. And that was the first sight that greeted Harrison Coxswift as he awoke in...eh....some trailer out back? On a fold-out bed it would seem. Though covered by white linen, the tent of his otherworldly manhood arose slightly more than 12 inches straight up. Naturally, on either side of him slumbered the nude, sexually exhausted Juggly sisters-who-were-not-sisters. There, in the dimness of dawn, it was not easy to tell the slumbering pair apart.