Empire of Flesh

; ; A secret story I've had for awhile, but was saving for release this Halloween.

; ; He could still hear her moaning; from just outside the bathroom door, where he had sealed himself, he could hear the gleeful grunts and ribald snarls of his latest conquest. It wasn't supposed to be this way, of course. He had taken precautions; or...thought he did. Clencing the towel rack in frustration, he reminded himself of his Vow, that he would never again transform a woman. It was a lofty, beknighted goal, his Vow was the sort of goal that made you feel better for having said it; although deep in your heart, you know that it cannot be. ; So it was with Harrison. He should have known better, in retrospect. Darcy had spent over 24 hours in his company; more than enough time for the Curse, yet he'd only agreed to meet her in public places, where nothing untoward could happen. That's what he told himself.

; ; "Am I such a fool, that I didn't believe she could have followed me?" He shook his spiky blond head in disbelief. No...he could not afford the luxury of such delusions, there was every reason to guess what would have happened tonight. Harrison's squared jaw clenched as he bit his lip and moved the handle of a nearby mop to wedge it between the doorknob and the toilet to try and jam the door. That should hold her for the moment. ; His victims didn't seem dangerous; But those afflicted with his Curse seemed capable of the impossible, to sate their consuming passion. The frantic knocking, pounding on the white door made it difficult to concentrate.

; ; "Darcy...listen! You need to get to a hospital! You're not well! This isn't like you!" Harrison shouted, as if by protesting enough, he would undo the damage that was already irreversible. "You are an educated young lady! You've made the Dean's List! You told me you wanted to found a Historical Preservation Society someday! Remember your dreams! Remember who you are!" he pleaded.

; ; The initial response to his entreaties was a girlish twitter. "Silly Harry! I know who I am! I'm Linda Bordeaux! See, I know how strippers pick their names! You take yer....middle name.....aaannnnnnd...the street you grew up on! And that'll be my name when I jiggle my titties in front'a all the guys down at Titopia Triple X!" more giggling."But then, after I've saved up enough fer my first boob job, I can get a big titty name! Liiiiiiike...... Jolena Juggs! orrrr maybe... Titania Titmouse!! *te-he*"

; ; Harrison grit his teeth, knowing that his words were futile even as he spoke them. "Your name is Darcy Linda Morgenstein! You're a Classical History Major! You're doing a thesis on Cultural Dissemination of the linguistic patterns of asiatic barbarians after the collapse of the Roman Empire!" Harrison insisted.

; ; "I'm through with dumb, boring, old history. And I don't need any hospitals! I just need you to come...come out of there....come...out....in...." Strange grunts could be heard from outside the door. Was she pleasuring herself right here? "Cum....on me...cum...in me.... cum...on my tits! On my ass! On my face!!!" Her words, already muffled by the door, descended into incoherent murmurings.

; ; Nodding stoically; Harrison knew what he had to do. Darcy or....'Linda Bordeaux' as she would now call herself, was going to need help. After his Curse, Day-to-Day living could become an insurmountable challenge; but Harrison was prepared, he'd dealt with this exact situation many, many, many times before. It was not only the giggling, indecent woman who was in denial; he had tried to ignore the truth himself. But no longer.

; ; His penis reminded him of what had to be done. His stone-washed denim jeans tented and began to thrash as a phallic monster of obscene strength arose within those pants.

; ; He gripped the rampant cock through his pants, snarling with frustration. "It won't...can't....go on like this...I will NOT be ruled by you! I will escape this Curse! I will stop destroying lives! But....for now....Darcy needs help.... the kind of help that only I can give her." His ice-blue eyes shone with resolve as he unjammed the door, grabbed a tube of lipstick, and went to face the horror he had wrought.

; ; ---

; ; It had started innocently, as all his encounters did. Each time he Cursed a woman, Harrison Coxswift told himself that this was the last time. And each time, his flinty blue eyes looked back and analyzed what he coulda'shoulda'woulda' done differently. So it was now, now he had to retrace his steps, look at the mistakes made, and Vow to not let it happen again! There were....how many?

; ; Ultimately, Harrison had never hurt anyone, physically at least, yet he felt like a serial killer for the lives he had destroyed. After a while, he had just lost count of the many, many women, all over the U.S., and Europe too. (Why did I believe that the Curse would be any different overseas?)

; ; For years, Harrison had simply fled. Running, always running away from the horror his life had become. But the women in Italy proved just as susceptible to the Monster that thrashed inside his pants - he had ruined the lives of...of...how many Italians had he corrupted? In the end, he had to leave that country sooner than he planned; the women were less inhibited, and that allowed his Curse to work even faster!

; ; But over the years, he'd worked out a....rhythm as it were. There was a means to minimize the damage done to the women that fell under his spell. The shame of it! The disgrace of what he had to do to help his victims made him loathe himself just as much as the aftermath of the Curse itself!

; ; There were warning signs; as there always were. He had agreed to help tutor Darcy mainly to assuage his conscience; for despite the wreakage his life had become, Harrison could acknowledge honestly that he was a near-genius in a wide variety of academic subjects.

; ; Not that Darcy really needed tutoring, but she was weak in a few subjects and was determined to do whatever necessary to not lose her high average. But then, in a terrible twist of fate, the subject matter turned to her specialty of Classical History.

; ; "It's the University library, very public." Harrison thought. "We're out in the open, on a couch in the central lobby on the first floor, here below all the ghosts and witch Halloween decorations. What could happen? There's no danger." That was it, that was always the lie he tried to feed to himself. No danger. No danger....

; ; "....But this degree of fixation is just too extreme to be explained by the age difference between her and her husband Claudius!" Darcy insisted. Thumbing through hastily-scribbled history notes. She blinked her eyes as a loose strand of long, mouse-brown hair fell between her eyes and glasses.

; ; "It's enough to support a tentative hypothesis that there was some form of neglect or abuse within the Messala family." She adjusted her plain, white T-shirt, her slim chest evidenced not a trace of bosom underneath the crisp, white shirt.

; ; "Hmmm.... not necessarily," Harrison began. "Pre-Christian Roman Culture was rife with sexual license that might be considered perverse today. For instance, there was no conception of a difference between hetero and homo-sexuality; it was a more of a free-for-all. A wealthy Roman could have sexual relations with all of his female employees, or slaves, and it would not be considered a vice. This attitude surely influenced the women as strongly as the men."

; ; "But like this!?" Darcy exclaimed, her hazel eyes widening behind coke-bottle glasses. " According to rumors at the time, The Empress Valeria Messalina was known to have worked her way through the entire, thousand-man Praetorian Guard. She was known to have bedded all of the most attractive men in Rome, and perhaps most of the least attractive as well. Think of it! Sex with a Thousand men!" This was the first stage; unbridled sexual curiosity would afflict women prior to their surrender to Harrison's Curse.

; ; "In our c-culture, that would certainly be considered pathological, but other societies had different...standards..." her tutor stammered. What were the odds that this conversation would strike so close to home!? He knew all there was to know on this subject; Harrison Coxswift had learned more than he ever wanted to know about the corrupt Empress Messalina.

; ; Fingers nearly trembling with barely suppressed, vicarious enjoyment, Darcy read on from her notes.

; ; "But her most famous exploit was sort of a sexual olympics against Rome's most famous prostitute; a woman named Scylla; after the mythological sea-monster with an insatiable appetite for sailors.

; ; "Messalina challenged Scylla to determine who could satisfy the most men in one night." Darcy's narrowing eyes and labored breathing betrayed more than simply academic interest as she read further.

; ; "By dawn, the contest was a draw, each woman having pleasured twenty-five men each. Yet Scylla, unable to defeat the Empress was shamed, and in disgrace retired from prostitution that very day. The Poet Juvenal said that as Messalina returned to the palace, she was exhausted, but never....never satisfied!

; ; "I think she'd be worth a research project in her own right!" remarked Darcy. By now, Harrison knew that the situation had gone too far; he excused himself for a moment, and discreetly fled from the library, never intending to return. Just a quick trip back to his room to pack his bags....

; ; Such a hasty departure was necessary; because there was more to this story: It was known only to a tiny circle of experts in forgotten lore that Valeria Messalina had dabbled extensively in Eastern Sorceries before her untimely death. And Harrison's first research fellowship had led him to Italy, where he had chanced upon an ancient, hidden and forgotten vault.

; ; It was after that day that he lost all desire to uncover secret lore and the arcane mysteries of the ancients. What he had unleashed inside that decaying, mouldering catacomb had made his life the living hell that it would be forever more.

; ; ---

; ; "Ashley! Ashley! Yer the Best! I...l-love you babe....*unnnhh*" gurgled her latest prize, as the blond surfer released both praise and spunk into the writhing feminine form quivering above him.

; ; "I never....it's never been like this....cum...so many times..." he rasped, as sweat poured down his chiseled face. Ashley smiled and yelped in womanly passion as her pelvis, slick with sexual juices shuddered once more. While it had never been this good for the man, it had always been like this for Ashley. Not her real name of course; but one she preferred in this day and age. It might attract undue attention to call yourself Astarte these days.

; ; The cool streetlights beaming in out the third-story window cast blue pools of luminesence on her perfect skin, and her perfect mane of luxurious hair - which seemed blond at first, yet also a reddish-copper. While her lustrous tresses seemed as perfectly groomed and pampered as her silken-soft skin, neither had required any real grooming in three hundred years. But these days, the humans could do wonderful things in their salons. Perhaps she should change her style.

; ; "I....I need more...m-more..." gurgled Surfer Dude, weakly reaching towards the sleek canteloupe-like breasts that dangled inches away. But then, after the third orgasm, her men always seemed even more lustful than before they'd first cum in her. That was the effect she had. She could keep the surfer happy, for a long, long while, and herself as well. But Astarte didn't want to leave this city just yet, and therefore the last thing she needed was a trail of bodies wherever she spent the night.

; ; But before leaving, she bent low, running her moist, pink lips over her man's chest, trailing her slender tongue over his hardened body, going from navel to throat. Not merely a titilatting gesture, for she now had his scent, and could track this man from many miles away if she decided to finish him off sometime.

; ; She rose to leave, sleek curves glistening in the wan, ambient light. Astarte would have a bit of fun; she put on her pink-lace panties and custom-made bra.....and decided to make the long walk back to her car alone, at night, clad only in her underwear. She giggled with glee at the prospect of what might happen! If she was lucky, perhaps a gang of young toughs would try to rape her! That was always worth a chuckle!

; ; "Wait...I....*unnnnngh*" Surfer Dude was trying to rise, trying to follow her, but despite his youth and health, he found himself unable to muster the strength needed to push himself off the bed.

; ; "Whoa...musta had...one too many....down in the bar...tonight..." he wheezed. What an amusing century this was; Astarte mused. A thousand years ago, her male prey quickly realized exactly what was happening to them! But there was no room for creatures of myth and legend, like her. Back in those days, she'd had to simply eat and run, as it were. Feed upon no more than two men, before fleeing, or hibernating for a decade or three. But now, now Astarte could simply travel, travel the world over, gorging herself on men and their essence like never before!

; ; She chuckled as she turned back to regard her bedmate. Her sparkling blue eyes held a note of bemused cruelty.....or was it green eyes? At first, the man watching her had thought they seemed blue, or blue-green, yet now they seemed almost violet. She closed the door behind her to the cheap motel they had rented. His feelings needed no mollifying.

; ; So she strode boldly, clad only in the briefest underwear as she left down the rear stairwell to the backalley exit. The sharp nails and traces of broken glass meant nothing to her as she strode barefoot by a round-about route back to her parking lot, gliding through the darkness and dampness like the dream of a fitness model photographer come to life.

; ; Suddenly, she smelled a faint dose of a familar male essence, and heard hoarse breathing from around the next corner. Centuries of human observation told the ancient being that this was a man preparing an ambush, for her no doubt!

; ; Her smile glistening shark-like as she shuddered with anticipation. Her breasts throbbed, and began to surge upwards in the lacy cups that bound them. In moments, silky slopes rose like yeast-laden bread-dough until the jutting mounds above the lacy hem seemed as large as oranges....no...more like grapefruits...and still swelling upwards -

; ; "Slow down, Astarte..." she whispered, rubbing her bust in an attempt to control the reaction. "If I keep getting excited I'll be too top-heavy to walk to my car!" But she did not begrudge the hot moisture in her groin, as her body tingled in expectation of what was to come.

; ; Backalley muggings and rapes were the best; the same factors that criminals depended upon to catch vulnerable victims also ensured that they themselves could be vulnerable. By now, she could see the hunched shadow of the man waiting to surprise her. It was past 2 A.M., and there was no one else around these streets; that meant Astarte could feed! Truly feed! She could indulge herself without restriction or worry! Not like the half-hearted partial efforts she used with men like Surfer Dude. She was unable to stifle a low snarl in her throat as her erogenous centers came alive with heat and desire!

; ; "Y-you! I've found you!" stammered a balding, fortyish stock-broker with beady eyes and pudgy fingers. Ah yes...she remembered this one! From...two days ago...

; ; "Please! I don't know what....It doesn't matter how, but I....." through his murmurings, the she-devil gathered his meaning. He reached forth a hand, pleading....hoping....begging without words for another brush with paradise.

; ; "I remember you..." she cooed. Her violet eyes widening as she ran a delicate finger up the sumptuous curves of her ageless, womanly hips. The man also, did not care about the hard debris of the alley floor, nor did he care about the breeze tonight, as he was wandering the city clad only in a hospital gown, with the remnants of a bandage in his right arm that must have once connected an intravenous tube.

; ; "Yes....I know you. But you must tell me...speak the words...what do you wish of me?" she hissed in the darkness.

; ; "Take m-me...again...like before...but for longer....mate with me....I need to feel you....need to be inside you.....I'll do...I'll give anything..." those beady eyes widened like a deer in headlights as sweat poured down his brow. "ANYTHING!" she had no doubt.

; ; And this, this was another reminder of why Astarte had long ago put aside any notions of guilt for the final fate of her victims. Surely, the doctors must have told this man that whatever he'd been doing had placed an incredible strain on his metabolism, that he would have surely died without prompt medical attention. Surely, they would have told him. Yet he had escaped, fled while still hooked up to their equipment. Because once he had tasted her, embraced her, even the threat of death seemed hollow, if it was death in her arms. Every once in a while, there was a survivor of a long-term feeding. They always wanted the same thing. Again.

; ; Her breasts pulsed, growing yet larger, as she opened her arms wide. This survivor would get what he craved, how could she deny him?

; ; ---

; ; He had relived the terrible moment in his mind, several times. And his excursion into the buried vault would haunt him for the rest of his life, no doubt. Yes, it dated back to at least 40 A.D., but.....these markings....no language that Harrison had ever seen, and he was fluent in ancient aramaic, latin, phoenician, and two Egyptian dialects. So this mouldering, decaying bastion could be....even older? His radio was still malfunctioning, but so great was his enthusiasm that he decided to go forward anyway, and investigate the site without waiting for his supervising professor.

; ; The chamber was simple, a star-shaped open area with an altar in the center....wait....these walls; they were imbalanced, assymetrical. At first, Harrison assumed that some of the walls had partially collapsed from eons of erosion and pressure....but no. The walls were intact, but built in accordance with the architectural design of a madman.

; ; And these etchings! A fluid, perverse script coated the gray-green walls like a smear of pestilence. The loopy icons were clearly the deliberate writing of an intelligence, yet they seemed more like a swarm of maggots than any human language. Nonetheless, like any proper student of archeology he began to take photos, and copious notes.

; ; But further into the chamber the vermiform script changed into other languages; these must be translations. Eventually, he found one at the base of the central altar written in an archaic heiroglyphic variant prevalent near the end of Egypt's Old Kingdom period.

; ; "Eihort, Eihort, Eihort - escape thy Bargain, yet borrow your power we must; ; For Shub-Niggurath has awakened, sealing dooms with its Lust."

; ; What the Hell? There were no Egyptian Pharoahs or Deities by those names! Under other circumstances, the intrepid researcher might have considered this some huge, insipid joke. Yet regardless, with the great age of this structure, it was a very old joke, if that. And still of great value.

; ; What was so puzzling was that this insane crypt would have anything to do with a pampered princess of Imperial Rome! Still, her private, lost diary which Harrison had scrupulously translated named this precise location as her 'Place of Passion'. Harrison was expecting some sort of cushy, 1st-century love-shack or pleasure palace! Instead he got....but wait; there in the wall at a right angle from the dusty altar - there were eight skulls deliberately embedded in the mortar.

; ; This put a new light on things; it was not uncommon for despots to use skilled craftsmen and learned scholars for special projects, then execute them. Her sexual indiscretions notwithstanding, Messalina was ruthless enough for that. These dead men had held knowledge that archeologists and anthropologists of today might consider killing for themselves! Yet no doubt, the vile empress had decided either to silence them, or ensure that there could be no repetition of the task they performed for her.

; ; The altar was dusty on top, yet he could see some straight, tall object protruding from the center of the silt and debris. With a gentle brush, not unlike the sort used by paleontologists and anthropologists for cleaning delicate bones, he brushed away the detritus to reveal....

; ; More writings; in an a strange form of Latin, chiseled in a rim all around the square altar:

; ; ; SUM ES DIA DE INCOITUS
; SUM ES DIA DE INCOITUS
; SUM ES DIA DE INCOITUS
; SUM ES DIA DE INCOITUS
;

; ; "I am the Goddess of Sex?" Well, that sounded more like her. But as he brushed away more dust, the object at the center was suddenly visible.

; ; Inspite of himself, Harrison felt his cheeks blush as he beheld what could only be described as an ancient dildo. It was studded with glittering rubies, yet it was wrought with gold-leaf that seemed to flex and ripple like living tissue! The craftsmanship should not have been possible at the time to produce -

; ; There was a jarring as the walls and ceiling began to shudder. Apparently from Harrison gently moving the golden phallus. What is this, some kind of Indiana Jones movie?! Tombs and temples don't just collapse just because you touch an artifact! Yet this one apparently was! It made him wonder what use Messalina intended for -

; ; It must have been a fairly large piece of mortar that slammed into his skull; because he blacked out almost instantly!

; ; ---

; ; He should have suspected what was happening from the way the nurse was eyeing him. But Harrison forgave the young Italian nurse her curiosity, aside from the head bandage, the hospital had also called in a urologist to examine him. Not surprising; even before he had managed to dig himself out of the wreckage and dirt of the collapsed vault, he had felt something strange, something unnatural.

; ; And now, clad only in a hospital gown he and the doctors had discovered that his penis had attained a stature that could only be described as legendary. His great shaft was longer than his forearm, and seemed to throb a deep, menacing red - as red as a ruby. The Golden Phallus of Messalina was nowhere to be found, with no evidence it had ever existed, except within him.

; ; The doctors seemed content to discharge him with a prescription for a mild sedative designed for chronic erections, they seemed assured that his condition was only due to temporary swelling.

; ; But the young nurse, he should have realized that the fire burning in her eyes was more than just morbid curiosity.

; ; The first disaster, the first emergence of Harrison's Curse became apparent that night; since he'd been held overnight for observation.

; ; She was around thirty, olive-skinned and with high cheekbones. It was long after hours, but it was the ripping of her bra and buttons that awakened Harrison that night. There were no words, no explanation. From the expression in her eyes, the woman was clearly in some form of...anguish? Torment?

; ; Her perky C-cups hanging in the open hair, the nurse tackled him, straddling her groggy patient. His great, enhanced cock had softened only slightly, but sprang to attention yet again when touched by that soft flesh. Half-growling, half-moaning she ran her breasts around his shaft, cushioning his angrily red member between her soft curves as Harrison grasped her by her hips.

; ; Nurse snuffled harshly as if the aroma of his raging cock was a perfumed bouquet. It seemed to have an effect upon her, her brown eyes rolling back into her head as if intoxicated. Finally, she could stand the torture no longer, and thrust her pelvis forward, tore away her panties as if they were a plague. And finally, finally, she impaled herself upon his swollen manhood with a beastial shriek.

; ; As the rising tides of passion and orgasm arose ever higher within him, Harrison was consumed not only by a mounting lust, but by a sense of power. It was a sense of control, influence, the ability to exert his will over flesh and the works of men.

; ; As his penis slid and thrust within and without her, there was suddenly a sense of conquest, as if he could possess and copulate with any female that pleased him. As the first jet of semen blasted into her hungrily-yawning sanctum of womanhood, Harrison felt like an emperor!

; ; Was he dreaming? Or where her breasts larger, higher, fuller? Her face, already attractive smoothed and flowed into a polished beauty of lustrously curled ebon-black hair, her skin seemed to shine with a hale and healthy bronzed glow. Was the voice he'd heard next in his mind, or ears?

; ; "Vivo...Vivo.....Vivo...." And she began speaking in Latin. Odd certainly, but not impossible and yet...what she was saying...

; ; "Flesh..and blood..and life again...after millenia of darkness. Through the lives...of other women...I shall taste the pleasures of the Flesh forevermore!" There was a dim shaft of light falling into the hospital room from a crease in the door, it began nearly six inches away from the Nurse, yet as she spoke, her energized breasts surged forward. Growing, thrusting, enflating with unwholesome powers of fertility and lust. Soon, the tips of her nipples touched that shaft of light as both partners continued to slam into each other. The nurse - he never did get her name - continued to drone on in Latin in a cultured voice that did not seem her own.

; ; "I shape this vessel; into a form of my liking....and others...and many others....Their desires will be as great as my own! And death shall not quench my orgy!" The crazed slut clenching his spasming rod was forever changed. Her physique was almost comical; breasts as large as motorcycle helmets, hanging loose yet with hardened nipples that jutted upwards proudly. Her hips had grown far wider than her own shoulders, and as she slid off of the great, red rod Harrison could catch a glimpse of her ass, firm and large and thrusting behind her sharply enough that her patient could have set down the remote control for the room's T.V. upon the top of her butt cheeks. Her hair had lengthened impossibly, like a glossed waterfall of liquid ebony curls.

; ; "Men...MEN....MEN!!! " snarled the metamorphed slut. "All men...." The furled lips of her hot cunt slickened her crotch with a manic arousal more intense than any of societies' taboos, as she fled the room utterly naked, apparently to begin a life of enthusiastic prostitution. But it was after hours, and Harrison soon fell back to sleep, and it seemed that the hospital administrators never really understood what had happened that hot and sweaty night.

; ; And there were others, and others, and still others. No one truly believed in the magnitude of Harrison's discovery; the cave-in had damaged much of the evidence, but the photos would certainly be worth analyzing. But he dared not tell anyone of the change within himself.

; ; The next time occurred on a train ride back to the airport. On of the stewardesses had been paying him undue attention and courtesy. And he should have predicted what would happen when she asked him in a serious tone to speak to him in private.

; ; The auburn-haired stewardess dragged him into the men's room at the back of the train car, almost pulling his lip off with the frantic intensity of her kisses, licks and lovebites. But this time, as she thrust him against the wall, his curse cock took action. The woman hadn't had time to pull down her panties before the enchanted penis thrust outwards, ripping sword-like through the lacy fabric, and Harrison's head swam with the heady sense of tyrannical power that suffused him each time he penetrated a woman.

; ; Snarling, sweating, and grunting like a bitch in heat, the nameless woman's back arched as her blossoming breasts finally exploded through her deep-blue uniform and buttons. And he had cum...and cum..... and still cum. Even in his delirium, it was apparent that he was producing far more sperm than the average whale.

; ; He didn't see, and was afraid to ask what had become of that female attendant, she had fled after at least a dozen orgasms, fully transformed into a sex-fiend almost unrecognizable as herself.

; ; ---

; ; The years since the day of the Curse had been filled with discoveries, pieced together from the secret journals of forbidden, arcane rituals that the empress had recorded. There came the realization of the magnitude of the plight that had been put upon him. Valeria Messalina had been unable to have enough sex during her life. Not that there weren't willing men, but as only one woman with only so many hours in a day, her wicked cravings were endless. It was as Darcy had said; exhausted but never satisfied. But now, she had found a way to finally feed her nymphomania - from beyond the grave. Those skulls he'd found, they were the remains of sorcerors who had been murdered after doing the Empress' bidding, (and probably doing her as well) Through forgotten magics, some shadow of her essence, a dark spirit of Messalina yet lingered.

; ; That wretched phallus had been imbued with the powers of primordial demons of an ante-diluvian age from before the advent of writing itself. It inflicted horrible transformations upon any woman that partook of Harrison's sperm. It shaped, molded each victim into a vessel pleasing to Messalina, and now that the Curse had been released, The spirit of the nymphomaniacal empress could exploit modern women to fulfill her perverted hungers. In his dreams, Harrison could see and hear brief flashes of the ancient slut and her dark intentions. This phallus was her ticket to immortality; after a fashion. She lived and felt and lusted whenever one of her corrupted women gave herself to a man. But to do this, the ancient demon magic warped and twisted mind as well as body. Each woman was battered into idiocy, the transformative sperm stole all but the most rudimentary intelligence, replacing it with the licentious urges that had driven the dead empress beyond the heights of sexual excess.

; ; But why? Why did all of these women assault him! They always made the first move! He remembered when he'd been in the hospital that first time, there had been puzzling electromagnetic interference with the doctor's MRI machines, there seemed to be some kind of weird magnetic field emanating from him. The doctors were baffled, but could find no medical explanation nor a reason to hold him indefinitely.

; ; Once, he'd read some rumors that military weapon engineers were theorizing that the right frequency of energy could alter the electrochemicals in the human brain, some believed that it might be possible to create a mind-control weapon with such means. Is that what he was? He didn't know, but it might make sense. There was no magical guidebook that explained the Curse of the Demon Phallus, no fairy godmother had appeared to guide him. So it seemed that his body was putting out some exotic radiation born of forbidden sorceries that altered the female brain, enough to make them so hot for his cock that they just couldn't help themselves.

; ; Most women, who just passed him on the street would feel only a twinge of desire, but repeated contact, or prolonged exposure would whittle away at the firmest resolve.

; ; What made it worse was that he ultimately couldn't stop. A woman throwing herself at him consumed him with such irresistable longing, that it was almost impossible to fight back. It was so easy, so easy to just lie back, and allow these crazed women to impale themselves upon his rigid rod - so easy to just enjoy the encounter, and grant them a full dose of his accursed semen.

; ; If he had real character, he would find a way to save the lives of these women; but he wasn't strong enough, too afraid to ever really hurt himself. So another married housewife would wrap her legs around his pelvis, and thrust her boobs in his face, and he would simply let it happen, grunting as loudly as she did as the Demon penis of Messalina spurted within its latest victim.

; ; The feeling of power, or dominance he experienced during sex was no doubt a calculated insertion: Whatever man first triggered the Curse would become instantly addicted to the sensation, relishing the corruption of as many women as possible. He was not intended to resist this abomination; he was supposed to thank his lucky stars and create a legion of giggling sluts for Messalina to tap into, that their orgasms might become hers. Death it seemed, had only increased her libido.

; ; ---

; ; Darcy Morgenstein was lost. It was difficult to remember the last twelve hours. There had been her consuming obsession with her new tutor, Harrison. His presence had sent electrifying chills up and down her spine, and the fire...it was as if there was a burning hot coal deep within her, deep in her cunt. The hotter burned this passion, the more she began to forget. She just knew that she had to screw him, it was more important than anything else, more important than....eh....er...

; ; That was part of the effect; she just started to forget anything that might have stopped her from spreading her legs for Harrison. She felt as though she were in limbo. After following Harrison back to his room, (unable to remember a reason not to) an incendiary craving had gripped her body, and it was like a walking black-out. She knew she was doing incredible, sexual things to him, she knew she was ripping off her bra, kissing him, inhaling his scent, begging for his cock. Yet her mind was in a cloud, like moving through molasses, until finally after the second orgasm, she seemed to lose herself in a hot, dark void.

; ; She was still alive, yet disconnected from reality, like being in the womb.

; ; "Darcy.... do not fight it....accept it, and it will be more wonderful than you could have imagined..." hissed a sweet, alluring female voice.

; ; "Who..." the voice used an accent unfamiliar to her, yet it seemed....old....ancient.

; ; "You know me....but you have been.....deceived..." hissed the strange voice. "Scylla gave up the contest at dawn, after twenty-five men, yes. But I saw no reason to end my coitus - my...sexual couplings.... for many more hours, well into the morning of the next day!"

; ; "Then...y-you are -"

; ; "I am the same as you. We are both the same! And I am here to give you want you truly want, to unleash your inner nature...." Darcy felt a fiery spasm in her vagina, it was more than simply a desire to be penetrated by a man, it was a raging frenzy that would torment her until the fires could be quenched!

; ; "No...I'm not...like this...I'm not...that kind of girl..." she murmured into the black void.

; ; "Of course you are, we all are. You can claim what all women crave, whether they choose to deny it or not...." argued the sibilant, exotic voice. It seemed to come from all around her in the featureless blackness, like a disembodied ghost of cynical lust.

; ; "It....it's wrong...it is..." the writhing girl protested.

; ; "Why? Why is it wrong to surrender to your deepest urges?"

; ; "I know...I can't....I can't remember..."

; ; "Because nothing that feels so good could be wrong! Yes...the changes...they are nearly complete!" the voice was exultant.

; ; "You're trying to make me...turn me into...into..."

; ; "SAY IT! SAY THE WORDS!!"

; ; "I'm not...I'm...I'm...I'm..." Darcy's muddled mind was laboring with torrid urges and closed off memories; struggling to retain her identity, yet rapidly loosing any motivation to do so. "I'm...I'M A SLUT!!!" she shouted into the void.

; ; "We all are, dear one. Deep down, we all are......and it feels soooooo good. Doesn't it? It feels good to be the slut!"

; ; "Oh yes...yesssss......"

; ; ---

; ; It was time to survey the extent of the damage. The new Darcy rushed Harrison as soon as he left the bathroom, plastering his face with lurid enticements that were in between licks and kisses.

; ; The Curse changed women in different ways, no two responding to exactly the same degree. This time, her hips had gotten most of the attention sweeping outwards from her pinched in waistline that sent a tingle to his groin from the promised fertility. But over the years, he had discovered that some women still retained a functional intelligence that might permit them to still remain largely independent. Would that be the case with Darcy?

; ; The ninety-pound, mouse-brown haired, academic wallflower had blossomed into a platinum-blond bombshell with ripe breasts that jutted halfway of the distance between her shoulder and elbow. Her new face was a glamourous visage of haunting, bee-stung lipped beauty. But sure enough, Harrison could detect the truth; he'd seen enough of these transformations before; and recognized patterns in her new facial features. The aquiline nose, the tilt of her eyes; yes. Many books contained photos of a sculpture once made of Messalina, and he could see that the spell crafted by the Imperial nymphomaniac was imprinting her own face, at least in part, upon each victim.

; ; And there would be a wave of depraved whoresluts brought on by diabolical sorcery; and Messalina's image would survive to the present, and attract the renewed lust of a planet of men. The despicable egomania of the act never failed to repulse him. Almost preventing his apprecation of the elegant beauty of each woman he corrupted. Almost. ; But for Darcy, her fate was sealed, even if she could be coaxed into wearing normal clothing, all would recognize that she had the body of a Porn-Queen.

; ; But there was one way, one sure-fire way to determine how much of her life the Curse had stolen: Harrison buried his face in the buoyant bounty of her bosom, his face wallowing between the chasms of her spectacular cleavage, until his probing mouth found a nipple. He tried...tried to keep his cock away from her - more sex with him would only compound the bimbifying transformation. Instead, as he suckled her mountainous juggs, he thrust his thumb and middle finger down below, to tease her hardened clit and pinpoint her G-spot. Years of intimate experience yielded a yelp of surprised glee as his skillful hands enflamed her already thigh-slickening passions.

; ; Then he felt it....hardening nipples soon spurted into his mouth a creamy sluice of sweet ambrosia. Spontaneous lactation; one of the final warning signs. Women that succumbed to the Curse to this degree would have had their entire personalities erased. At this stage, it was clear that the woman had become the quintessential whore, inside and out.

; ; As he continued to suckle from her copious tits, and fondle her drencing cunt, Harrison's lip quivered in sadness from what had been lost. Her family would never gain closure, Darcy would not have enough childhood memories left to care about them, nor would she care about her plans for a future, a career. Her life was sex and lust now; she was a giggling, slutty vessel for a sex-crazed, sorcery-dabbling empress who would share her lurid joy each time a man - any man, spurted his wad inside her womb.

; ; But....if she retained even a shred of her real personality, then he had to keep her away from his cock, any more sperm would ensure that -

; ; *NNNGH!* The demon penis! It leapt out of its own accord! The swollen, reddish member seemed to act with a mind of its own! Like an unerring smart bomb, it cruised deeply into the target zone, a wet squelch was heard as her vagina was reamed yet again.

; ; At this point, the Curse was too strong to resist, for either of them. When his demon cock became fully active, the ensorceled scholar was lost in that heady dream of power and sexual omnipotence, it was as though he were the Emperor; presiding over an infinite realm of female flesh.

; ; To women, the Curse gave stunning beauty and removed all inhibitions. But to its male carrier, it fullfilled a primal male power fantasy that resonated with anyone who'd ever carried a Y-chromosome!

; ; ---

; ; "Yeah, it's me Lou. I got another prospect for you."

; ; "Harry! You're making my day! My production's been needing a shot in the arm! What'cha got for me?"

; ; "Platinum blond, about 5'5. Wider hips than the last one. Blow-job lips and ice-blue eyes. Boobs.....I'd say about bowling-ball sized. And trust me, she's enthusiastic!"

; ; "Heyhey! They all are! Everybody you send to me acts like its her lifelong dream to strut around naked fer my camera! I dunno how you dig up all these delicious sluts, but keep 'em comin'!"

; ; "Yeah....yeah, but with this one, she's really, really horny. Most girls like to talk dirty for the audience, but this one; she really means it! You'll need somebody with a big cock to keep her in line."

; ; "Harry! Harry! You say that with every girl!" Lou reminded him. "I know the drill, she needs it at least four times a day, more if she can get it. I've handled your girls before. And I hope for a lot more! I'll wire your usual headhunter's fee to the same account number as before. I gotta tell ya kid, partnering with you was the best thing that ever happened to the Titopia Triple-X francise!"

; ; "And a reminder of the worse thing that ever happened to me...." bemoaned Harrison as he hung up. And that was how he'd survived so long without a steady job. He couldn't simply abandon his victims; they would face abuse, disease, and unwanted pregnancies on the streets, or wind up with brutal pimps. A girl that gave in completely to the Curse, like Darcy, would not only crave sex, she would find it simply impossible to refuse her body to any man.

; ; The only hope for his women was the adult entertainment industry. Here, they could thrive creating media that glorified what they loved more than life itself. The owners of skin mags and porn studios could give the girls direction and focus for their lusts; so far this option was the best chance for survival that his victims would get.

; ; But it wasn't supposed to be this way; not forever. In fact, it was Harrison's plan to escape from this cycle of transformation and pornography that led him to meet Darcy in the first place.

; ; He sought to give something back, in response for all the lives he'd destroyed. He still possessed an almost encyclopedic knowledge in a variety of academic subjects, and was struggling to slowly build a career as a professional tutor. It was in this way that he hoped to no longer have to rely on his vast network of contacts in the porn industry, and their fees he received for providing them with a steady stream of new talent.

; ; His eyes fell upon his latest disaster. Unconscious, sleeping the sleep of the sexually exhausted, lay Darcy....or 'Linda Bordeaux' as she would be calling herself. Her gleaming skin was awash in hot sweat and speckles of cum. Beneath her ample bosom, was a series of backwards numbers written in lipstick across her slick skin. When she awoke, she'd find a similar set on her ass. When viewed in a mirror, a phone number was revealed in the proper order. Most Curse victims still retained enough memory to use cars and phones, so he was usually safe in assuming that they could make contact with her new employers.

; ; Her eyelids....they had begun to flutter rapidly, as was typical. The evil spirit within her always bombarded new converts with a torrid avalanche of erotic dreams, intense fantasies that seared away any lingering vestiges of morality and inhibition. When she awoke, the new female would be a depraved, hollow she-creature, so whorish in demeanor and desires, that it seemed an insult to call her a woman, for not even the most wanton natural women could not match her on-coming perversity.

; ; Soon, it would be time to leave this city and move on, before too much suspicion was raised. The Southwest was nice this time of year.... plus, if anything went wrong, he had another agreement with the owner of Boobageddon Productions; who was predictably, very satisfied with his prospects.

; ; ---

; ; "Astarte! Astarte! There is none other! None to.....compare to you! *Nnnngh* My love is yours forevermore!" grunted the naked Canaanite priest as he thrust into the woman who was more than woman. The priest's lust had only increased after the third orgasm, and Astarte relished the ferocity of his rampant libido as he pinned her against the jewel and gold-encrusted wall, struggling to thrust his member ever deeper in her welcoming chasm; whilst her legs wrapped around his pelvis strained to grind him tighter against her sex.

; ; She could no longer see where the Priest's hands would rove next; for her breasts had blossomed to a width so great, that they seemed close to the diameter of an ox-cart wheel. Her sensitivity increased as her mammaries enlarged, but adding yet more to her pleasure was the surprise: would her mate tweak her clit next? Or perhaps his nails would graze the inside of her thigh? Not being able to see his hands over the ponderous swell of her bosom added a mysterious thrill that only added to her pleasure.

; ; The Qedeshots kneeled and chanted before her, row after row of the cultic temple prostitutes bowed before the raised dias at the back of the temple - her temple. Her nature had so impressed the priests of Jericho that they named her a fertility goddess! It was the most ideal outcome possible for her; here Astarte had comfort, safety, respect, and was regularly supplied with all the male essence she could handle! Nearly every night she limped back to her private sanctum from the well-used soreness in her pelvis!

; ; But with the feeding so easy, she had also grown careless, complacent. She had not made contingency plans, had no escape routes from the temple nor emergency contacts in case of disaster. She simply presided over daily worship that the people of Jericho might be blessed with virile cocks and fecund wombs; and her own womb was engorged with the rich seed of men! She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be hungry, to feel that gnawing heat, the rasping tingle in her groin, the labored breathing, that only a hefty dose of manseed could satisfy!

; ; But she would indeed remember what that hunger felt like in the years to come! Her paradise lasted three centuries, before the Hebrews swept through and destroyed everything; she was nearly killed in the attack. The best thing to do was to return to hibernation; only for a century at a time, and await an age when sex was again considered sacred, and when men did not ask for unreasonable commitments after they spurted themselves within a woman.

; ; That long-lost eon, the Bronze-Age smorgasbourd of Jericho had been Astarte's oldest memory. Everything was hazy, and indistinct before that rutting with the fertility priest all those milennia ago. She sat now in a hotel room in the ritzier part of a city thousands of miles and years from that time. She was thumbing through a worn and weathered pink diary that she had often used. Not to record her thoughts and memories, however.

; ; It had troubled her for centuries that she had no recollection of a childhood as humans consider it. Had she ever been a bumbling, stupid little girl with a head too large for her body? Did she ever meet her own parents? She had no idea.

; ; "...October 29, and it looks like California dodged a bullet this time;" came the voice of a female journalist over Astarte's portable radio plugged in an outlet in the corner. "Yes, seismic readings confirm a Great Quake has occurred just hours ago, but far off the coastline on the ocean floor. In other news, California Adult entertainment industries have experienced record profits - " but she had ceased listening.

; ; "What am I?" she whispered out of her window questioningly to the glittering skyscrapers, and neat avenues of palm trees common to large cities on America's West Coast.

; ; "Am I some freak of nature? Some long-lost species from a rare evolutionary path? A modern scientist might describe me thus." Am I an extraterrestrial? Was I deposited on Earth ages ago by some sort of....flying saucer? Why, what possible purpose could that serve? And where are the rest of my kind?" her demands were angry; as if by her protests she could intimidate the universe into providing an answer.

; ; "Is it true what the followers of the One God would say of me? Am I a supernatural fiend spawned by some fallen angel to bedevil mankind? If I was, would I know it?" She had never known; never met another of her kind, and found no source of answers or information. She massaged her breasts as she petted the small, pink book.

; ; "Freak, Alien, or Demon, what are you, Astarte? All I know is that I am old, impossibly old. Do I have a destiny? A purpose for my endless existence?" Being denied these answers caused her fear in the beginning, then torment in later millennia....now? She felt as though she'd been....swindled. As if the universe had cheated her of a rightful prize.

; ; If there were no answers about her past, then she decided to create them. Trying to integrate into human society would be impossible if she claimed to be incapable of remembering her childhood. So she had decided to create one. After listening to more lovers than there seemed stars in the sky, she understood the basics of childhood, enough to falsify stories of her own.

; ; She filled the small book with wholesome fictions of precocious, play-time messes, bee-stings, and wise sayings from her long-suffering mother. She kept it neutral with respect to technology, so it could be easily updated. This catalogue of false memories gave her folksy anecdotes she could add to conversations with normal humans. Letting her blend in just enough that no one would divine her true nature; yet her beauty was stunning enough to arouse man's basest instincts.

; ; But ultimately, it was not enough. Feeding prospects in this country had been improving steadily since the 1960's, but in the last few years, she'd become increasingly dissatisfied. But why? despite the moral foundations of this society, a point had now been reached where she could freely couple with hundreds of men with little or no social consequences. But it was not like ancient Canaan; here her predatory libido was merely tolerated, but there she had been worshipped!

; ; Would she ever have that blessing again? Would there ever be a time and place where women would submit to her will without question, and where she could command any man she chose to her bed without hiding her nature?

; ; Likely not. As liberated as these Americans were becoming, if it were discovered that an ageless being lurked among them that fed upon the sexual energies of men, she would be hustled off into the dark of night to a secret bunker to be poked, prodded and violated. These modern humans would never accept a living goddess among them. What was the answer to her dilemma?

; ; ".....Professor of Geophysics at UC Berkeley says that a Quake of this magnitude will indeed have repercussions, even though it did not occur on land - " But Astarte flicked off the bothersome radio broadcast, doubting that the distant tremors would affect her.

; ; Take a lover? But lovers had always failed her in the past; how could she keep a man alive long enough? What then? What then?

; ; ---

; ; It was a pleasant enough cafe, and the Wi Fi link was working nicely, and so Harrison was able for a time to forget his troubles and enjoy the simple pleasures of people unburdened by magical curses of nymphomaniacal monarchs. Buses and cars whizzed on by outside, and an atmosphere of casual relaxation prevailed within. True, this cafe was a little close to the risque` part of town, but there was nothing in here to remind him of that.

; ; " Lorebabe69: lol, but the pyramidal influences in the architecture of the Mayans should be a clear enough indication." flashed the words across the screen of his laptop. A classic argument, he thought, as he debated with the other intelligence via instant messenger. It was so refreshing, so invigorating to have a stimulating, intellectual discussion!

; ; "Brainiac360: But you have to consider the beliefs of the ancient Egyptians at the time, their status in the afterlife depended upon a proper burial in their homeland; to leave it on some incredible voyage across the ocean would have put their souls in jeopardy." Finally! A conversation that didn't involve boobs, pussies, or how strippers picked their stage names!

; ; " Lorebabe69: Essentially true, but there are many plausible vectors for dissemination. Some have theorized that Phoenician merchants might have once attempted an extended ocean voyage that might have led to the Americas. But the technology and seamanship at the time prevented them from being able to return; a ship was most likely marooned. And it's not certain that Egyptians couldn't have been involved; a part of their mythology also related to a Western Paradise beyond death -

; ; "Brainiac360: And you think one of them might have tried to make a voyage to find that Paradise?

; ; "Lorebabe69: Unlikely, true but perhaps not impossible. "

; ; "Brainiac360: But very nearly impossible; it's a fascinating theory, but the Egyptians never demonstrated nautical expertise beyond what was needed for simple river barges. It wasn't until the Middle Kingdom that they even possessed knowledge of the wheel! They just didn't value innovation of that sort; there was a strong focus on the order of the universe, and the maintenence of stability."

; ; "Lorebabe69: So you believe that Mayan architecture was simply an original product of the culture with no foreign influence?"

; ; "Brainiac360: Certainly, you have to remember that this culture also produced accurate astronomy, and a system of mathematics."

; ; "Lorebabe69: Unless their other achievements were also a result of ideas imported from foreigners!"

; ; "Brainiac360: Hah! well now we're getting into shaky territory...."

; ; But Harrison saw it then. It was becoming dark, and the street lights were starting to turn on. That also meant that neon signs and lighted marquees would also begin their electric emanations. He didn't notice it before, but when the Greyhound bus pulled away, a sign up the street became visible:

; ; ; LIVE TONIGHT!
; DEE-DEE CUPS
; DANCES AT THE
; G-SPOT!
; ; ; No...oh no....not her! His online conversation forgotten, Harrison felt a tear rolling down his face. Once again, his accursed past rose to haunt him. Just a few years ago, she had been an accomplished surgeon at the Mayo Clinic, at which Harrison was briefly able to secure admittance at great personal expense for an evaluation of his bizarre condition.

; ; Dr. Denise Halloway was an a brilliant physician who took an immediate interest in his case....but mainly in his cock. Detailed scans produced baffling results that provoked words from the doctors such as, 'unprecedented'.....'findings inconclusive'.....' diagnosis uncertain'. Their probes and tests were thorough, but medical science simply wasn't up to challenge of whatever the Curse had done to him. And Dr. Halloway wasn't up to the challenge of resisting the impossible allure of his penis!

; ; She'd hurred to catch the same elevator Harrison was in, and when they were alone she hit the Emergency Stop button, tore through his pants like a woman obsessed, and suckled upon his penis as though it were the a font of ambrosia. She was greying, middle-aged with dark hair. Not what he was used to, but she made up for it with enthusiasm.

; ; He should have, could have stopped her, but her mouth! It was so good! Such warmth and pleasure! He was almost delirious with lust as she inhaled and deep-throated his member! His hands gripping her head, he tried at first to push her away, but his grip become more of an encouragement after the first few licks.

; ; Before he knew it, he was quivering with post-orgasmic aftershocks, and the fine-lines and wrinkles of a woman approaching fifty had smoothed and flowed into an incorrigible whore at least twenty years younger.

; ; Those screams, he would always remember the unique tone of her screams as her ripening, youthening breasts burst with health, vitality and sweet milk. It was like laughter mixed with animal slaughter - but clearly Halloway was gripped by a delight so profound that her mind was unable to cope with the onrush of power and pleasure brought by the sorcery.

; ; Near the end, she hunched topless on the ground, supported by her elbows, and panting from the pleasure. But her breasts were still growing, still enlarging, and from that position, they came to touch the ground in less than six seconds, and still they grew!

; ; Of course, he had to help her disappear using his network of contacts, and she was greedily snatched up by the Porn industries. Oh yes, she had been missed! Investigation after Investigation. Harrison had been brought in for questioning time and time again. But he was weak; too weak to allow himself to be incarcerated forever! He was....well, what could he have done? No one could have possibly believed the truth of what had happened to Halloway, and there was no way to build a criminal case against Harrison, so the matter just began to fade away.

; ; Now, with the stripper name Dee-Dee Kups (though her bosom had truly grown far in excess of that!) and decades of valuable medical knowledge locked away from her conscious mind, the gorgeous ex-surgeon delighted audiences across the country with her blond-streaked red hair, jade-green eyes, massive melons not unlike halloween pumpkins, and an impressive ability to flex her ass-cheeks in rhythm with Notorious B.I.G. 's 'Hypnotize'.

; ; How many diseases might she have cured? How many lives might she have saved had it not been for him and his damned selfish cock! Harrison logged off...he needed....needed to forget... to forget how much he loved the personality behind Lorebabe69, after all their years of chatting. She was starting to pressure him to finally meet her; and he was torn with how to put her off without putting her off. Their debates, while contentious were more precious to him than sex with 10,000 transformed whoresluts. The conflict, the dilemma weighed upon him too heavily....had to get away...forget.....end......needed it to end....to end.....

; ; ---

; ; The last man gripped her hips firmly, fingers clenched against her firm ass as the svelte figured woman writhed and rutted atop his naked pelvis. Over the hours, his grunts had turned from passionate straining to a crazed, almost manic laughter. That's how it always became when she let herself simply go wild. When she fully indulged herself in a virile man. But this...this was purposeful. This latest one, a meaty construction worker with a stubbly beard and burly muscles that gave an aura of strength and heartiness despite an ample beer-belly.

; ; "Oooh....that was....eleven...." she crooned, feeling that liquid fire of nourishing bliss that she never, could never grow tired of. The seed of each man, every man down through the millenia, was a unique cocktail to her. The orgasming laborer spasming himself within her had a deep, salty, brothy tang; but she had only a rudimentary understanding of how humans experienced their foods. To her it was sperm, rather than food that was most important to her sense of taste. And her lower lips flexed with surprising agility to encompass and suckle the spewing rod within her clenching slit as she pressed her hands into his hairy chest, grunting as she strove to tease each last sperm cell his equipment could produce.

; ; She thrust, and ground her hips against his groin yet again, only to be met by gurgling, giggling laughs. The man's eyes rolled back into his head, his face twisted into a rictus of impossible joy. Not unexpected.

; ; "Three...two.....one..." Astarte counted, a cruel grin crossing her plump, moist lips as her prey jerked suddenly. "That would be the heart." His heart exploding, the strain too great to bear. Not uncommon for men near forty; that was the conseqence of her feeding venoms. After poisoning a man's body like this, forcing it to produce enough sperm for nearly a dozen ejaculations in less than an hour, the human metabolism was bound for disaster. And yet, while her male prey were surely aware of the strain they were under, the narcotic high also caused by her feeding venoms caused desire to increase just as the danger did.

; ; 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.

; ; It was apparent, however that a night with him had only deepened the Curse laid upon them years ago. And thanks to his intoxication, he had not been able to flee after the first three orgasms. The corrupted women had finished an entire evening of supernatural sex-play with a demonic penis that never seemed to run out of juice; furthering their own damnation. For he could see that either pair of breasts rose upwards at least seven inches when lying flat, larger than either had been before, but breath and movements during sleep allowed the hemispheres to swell and wobble beyond that.

; ; He tried to remember, hard as it was getting to tell the pair apart. While both had the silky-young skin of the cheerleader that Brianna had once been, one pair of teats seemed more pointed, conical. The soft mams gave a decidedly confrontational image; as if to point accusingly at all men that dared lust after them. (which seemed to be everyone) But the other set had upturned nipples resting upon a broad, expansive cushion of sweet, soft tit, conveying youthful perkiness despite the crotch-tingling voluptuousness of the endowments.

; ; He tried...pointed to the more aggressive...more pointed set of breasts... remembering the name...

; ; "Fool..." said the soft pair of lips to his right, the slut speaking still seemed asleep.

; ; "Fool who resists the Gift..." spoke the other to his left, also apparently asleep.

; ; "What the - what are you..."

; ; "SUM ES DIA DE INCOITUS!"

; ; "SUM ES DIA DE INCOITUS!" Both women chanted simultaneously in Ancient Latin, eyes never opening. There was only one who had seen that writing...only one entity....

; ; "Empress Messalina..... A fool am I? Well, I'm a man with a conscience; to one as ruthless as you were, that might seem foolish indeed." He said, in the same tongue.

; ; "A man of conscience?" said the lips to his right, speckled with strange, pale stains of suspicious origin. "Is that why you sell women to pornographers to fund your wanderings?" asked the left pair of lips, also covered with whitish film of dubious nature, as she mocked him.

; ; "That....I.....you left me no choice! With this Curse!"

; ; "But now...." said the right lips, "I give you a choice;" said the left pair. "Go...go to the Hilton Hyatt on 42nd and Main," instructed right. "Seek out room 1769." left lips said.

; ; "What...now you want to give me marching orders?" He was as incensed as a man could be after a night of God-only-knows how many Tequilas who wakes up in a bed with two naked strippers.

; ; "In serving me..." said right.

; ; "You serve your own ideals...." said left. "For I do not allow competition!"

; ; ---

; ; Donna didn't think there would be a problem. She'd made herself very clear to Cody; who was otherwise a nice guy, but had gotten too desparate and clingy for her taste. Still, he was the jealous type, and that had her worried; but she wasn't about to hide out in her apartment for the rest of her life. And it had been a while since she'd been to a real Halloween Party!

; ; She was expecting more of a nerdy gamer type of crowd, and wondered if anyone would recognize her costume of purple hair, lavendar leotard, leather jacket and stocking boots.

; ; Still, the neighbourhood around here must be getting weird or low-class; she swore there was a blond chick and a huge black guy going at it with each other in the narrow alleyway she just passed; and it wasn't even dark yet! Strange....it seemed like the smaller girl was the one pinning HIM to the wall. Well, she wasn't about to gawk.

; ; Unless it was at the huge flight of black bats fluttering overhead in a purposeful swarm. Well, on any other night of the year, so many....seems like hundreds...would have given her pause, but now? Probably just some fancy, sophisticated prank or illusion to spice up the Trick or Treating.

; ; Yet, if it was a trick, those three people inside that Buick LeSabre with the door open were missing it; the car in question had its front passenger entry ajar, allowing anyone and everyone to see frantic couplings between two honey-blond sluts with breasts larger than their own heads, who were grunting, thrusting upon the body of a non-descript boy who probably couldn't be older than eighteen; could be a college freshman having the time of his life. Here...in public....without a care for who might see!

; ; "WHOA!" One of the mysterious bats swung low, and seemed to collide with a street lamp above her head! Immediately, there was a burst of greyish smoke with gold-flecked sparkles that descended on her. No sign of the bat. Huh! Must be some sort of fake thing which...er...eh...some trick of....uhmm....Donna really couldn't explain it, nor the tingling sensation she felt.

; ; "Well, it is that time of year, I guess..."

; ; While the neighborohood might have deteriorated, this was a bit much:

; ; "I.....gotta take you girls....in for...for...solicitation.." Grunted a pantsless police officer with a salt and pepper goatee, as a writhing woman churned upon his naked member. Her blond hair was streaked with black, and the way she ground herself into her mate made it clear that it was naked lust, rather than money, which drove her.

; ; A silky smooth, female crotch sat upon the officer's face; stifling any further pleas.

; ; "Twelve....so far tonight...." grunted a woman with wild eyes as....golden? As her hair? Must be contact lenses.

; ; "Only...twelve? An amateur....you are...*Urrnt*" Snarled the first female in between her ruttings. "Sixteen for me..... "

; ; "You've not....beaten me yet!" snarled the newcomer; quivering with libido as the protesting tongue and mouth of the man drove her to a sloppy orgasm upon his face. She then leapt off of him, and ran naked into the backalleys; perhaps to find more men to ravish that she might even the score with her new competitor.

; ; "And why shouldn't she?" Donna wondered, feeling a bit light headed. Sex is pleasure; it is life. It would feel so good...to mate with a man..." She clutched her warming cunt, heedless of who might be watching.

; ; As she continued, Donna began to feel a mounting urge to surrender herself to the next male she saw; to begin to produce young.

; ; "Procreate..." she grunted, nostrils flaring. Career.... freedom....independence....those fleeting goals she had sought in the past suddenly seemed vain and hollow. What mattered was squeezing out as many offspring as possible.

; ; "So....unfair," she grunted, patting her flat, trim belly. "I want...want to swell, grow, I want to burst with young!" Her new sense of clarity enveloped her mind that it didn't seem worthwhile to ponder the suddenness of the change that had crept into her thoughts. It was like waking up from a bad dream, and she didn't want to think about anything but how to get a man to impregnate her.

; ; "Ohh...y-yes...I'm...I'm ready!" There were a series of tingles, ripples, and throbbing bursts of velvety pleasure centered in her sex organs. The lavendar leotard creaked as a creeping tide of wanton boobflesh began to assault it from within with fabric-punishing inflation.

; ; Her inarticulate cry was a triumphant squealing more primal, more obscene than true language. She felt the shaking, the stretching...her hips and ass, they were expanding, widening to contain the young she must bear!

; ; "Oh...uh hey Donna!" it was Cody...the fool. She had arrived at the white, two-story rental house now occupied by four of her old college friends that shared the rent; festive orange and black streamers festooned the porch and windows.

; ; "Ohh....I get it; 'The Major' from 'Ghost in the Shell', right?"

; ; "Hurrnh...yes...costume..." she grunted, golden eyes narrowing as she studied the male before her.

; ; In the end, though. She knew that Cody was a weak boy; much too weak to keep her from claiming every drop of sperm he could shoot into her! Like a pouncing tigress, she landed in his embrace; pressing his surprised face into the cleavage of perky breasts three times larger than the modest C-cups she'd once had. Yes! She could feel it! He was hard for her.....

; ; ---

; ; "It's fair weather all the way, and officials are predicting a safe and happy Halloween." Confirmed the attractive local news anchorbabe, a coffee-skinned, asian-featured beauty with long cascade of mahogany hair and a mixed ancestry.

; ; "However, there are disturbing reports of some Halloween Hijinx that may be more than just good, clean, fun. Officials report a preponderance of public nudity and indecent behavior, ranging from... *ahem* " Her narrow eyes almost visibly widened from some of the reports that she could not read on the air. Who would send her smut like this?

; ; "There have been a number of bat-sightings in the city tonight; but offiicials remind the public of just what day this is, and assure us that there is no evidence of real bats anywhere near the metropolitan area.

; ; "Here's wishing all of you a safe and happy night! And tune in tomorrow, an oceanographer from Berkeley has an unorthodox theory concerning the recent earthquake off the Pacific coast earlier this week. My name is Lei Ames; you're watching channel 11 news tonight!"

; ; "And we're clear." said Bob, the cameraman.

; ; "Oh, Bob. Stay a minute, It's important that I speak to you...privately." Ms. Ames asked.

; ; He hoped she wouldn't see him swallow. Bob Weintraub was a broad-shouldered guy, but he had a little too much of a gut and a not quite enough hair left to give him real confidence with the ladies. Lei unattached her microphone, and waited patiently until the other staff had left the set.

; ; She was...seemed unusually tense. Was it his fault? She'd never been overly critical of his shooting, and there had been no problems tonight. Still, she seemed.....now that was odd; her eyes seemed....golden? When did that happen? They'd been dark brown like usual when the broadcast began, had she slipped in contacts when he wasn't looking?

; ; She was definitely uncomfortable about something, kept adjusting her red blouse, and closing her eyes...breathing heavily. What was up? Maybe she knew; maybe she'd figured out how he really felt about her, and was here to set the record straight. Bob had always had a thing for exotic flowers, like her. But his approach turned off most women. So here comes the part where she sets him straight about where they stan -

; ; "MMPH!" With a feral snarl, she pressed her wide, glossy lips to his. Inhaling his breath as she panted, beast-like, whilst tearing off his pants.

; ; She had him with his pants down, there upon the table, where Channel 11 news was broadcast to 5 million homes every weekday. She sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his pelvis, pushing her heels against his back, to provide friction that would propel his hard 7 inches ever deeper into her flooding pussy. Though having discarded most of her clothes, she'd kept on her lacy, frilly pink bra. And Bob could see it straining, straps tightening almost as if...as if her breasts were expanding! It seemed impossible that Lei had ever managed to wear a C-cup bra with E-cup tits that bulged outwards 5...maybe 6 inches from her chest! How much further would the wood-brown boobs expand, if not constrained by that frilly prison!

; ; Bob decided it was best not to think about it; here was his dream, coming true at last. Better not to question, not to think too hard. When a fantasy you've jerked off to for years comes true, don't look a gifthorse in the mouth, unless its a woman, and she swallows. So closing his eyes and thanking every god he could remember, he simply thrust his hips forward, aiming his meaty rod ever deeper, the wet squelches were even stronger testament to Lei's savage arousal than the grimace of lurid indecency plastered across her asiatic features.

; ; The doors to the set slammed open! Bob glanced over; certain that his career (and Lei's) was about to end abruptly!

; ; Instead, there was a black guy with dreadlocks being tackled by three statuesque blonds, tearing his pants from him. It was James, their chief engineer! Very, very distracted from his duties. As the quartet tumbled into the room, the woman seemed unable to decide who should have the benefit of his sperm; so James was assailed by the slippery bombardment of three pussies, one after the other, each taking no more than two strokes of his meaty rod inside them before another pulled her away!

; ; But when Bob's attention was drawn, he also noticed a sharp, red light.

; ; "M-Ms. Ames! Th-The camera! It's on!" And if the chief engineer was distracted like this....was it possible? Was it possible they were still broadcasting? There was delicate, musical laughter.

; ; "Good....I want them all to see....I want the entire city to see how large my breasts have become!" Turning to the camera, Lei Ames arched her back, and the bra snapped! Though understandably distracted by the tremulous canteloupes swaying before his eyes; Bob also could not help but notice, in the metal rafters above the studio set, flying fluttering.....bats?

; ; ---

; ; She was full, she was ripe. Astarte struggled to move her hips under her new girth. The vast dome of her gravid belly was now visible even beyond the fertile swell of creamy bosoms that easily matched the size of any ball used for professional athletics.

; ; The room was barricaded, but the staff wasn't immune either! The open window of the hotel room faced her naked, slick cunt, quivering expectantly.

; ; "A city like this; the best place I could hope for.....to breed. Always before, my larvae could find only a small range of hosts, soon to be destroyed by demon-fearing humans. Now...now..." she grunted as her belly twitched. "My larvae can spread further than ever before! It will take more than an angry mob with *URRRNT* torches and pitchforks to stop me now!" The contractions began again. Faster! Faster than before!

; ; For her kind (whatever that might be) The birthing was equal parts pain and pleasure, the two sensations mingled together to make the entire process more stimulating. In truth, there was nothing more sensually pleasing to her than spawning. But it took her kind many centuries to mature enough, and even then, she'd discovered that she was only capable of reproducing once every two centuries - regardless of how many men she'd consumed.

; ; "*HUURRNNT - AHHHHHHRRGH!!!*" They were not true bats, of course. The creatures that erupted from between her legs had four wings, and where really more like fungus puffballs, and they carried spores, all important spores..... And this was the third swarm already! Already, chaos would begin to grip the city. Those implanted with her spores would begin to grow and change; while spreading the glory to others.

; ; "I will never....understand, my origins..." Astarte snarled against the rush of larval spawn birthing and rushing out the open window. "But.....whatever I am.....after tonight, the mortals will have no choice but to deal with my kind!"

; ; ---

; ; "If....If I d-don't survive the night, I want the world to know w-what happened tonight. My name is Carson Stevens, and I'm an Investigative Report- ah no....that's not true....I'm just a Journalism student. But this tape....this tape will change everything. This camcorder will hold a record of the chaos that overtook the city tonight.

; ; "Whoever gets this will be able to hear....and see everything. I've tried to document several different areas affected by the plague, but....everywhere its the same. The bats must be the key; I've seen them.....everywhere.....they seem to explode, release some sort of....poison....contamination....perhaps some virus. And it...it changes people!

; ; "There....you can see them out the window now....blond hair, or hair streaked with blond....and and their breasts! Far...far too large! The smallest one I've seen....her m-mammaries were about the size of party balloons! they're gorgeous, all of them! Almost...impossibly so!....Look at the way they move...shambling, lurching through the streets, like...like zombies....it's like some kind of perverted Resident Evil knockoff! The transformed have gathered into rape gangs, but....they're all female! They corner and capture men....forcing them to...to copulate. Most don't resist. And they end up....like Bradley!

; ; "You can see him now, on the bed next to me. Grey, bloated, lifeless. He didn't resist; thought he was lucky when two of the zombie bimboes cornered him! I could hear him, the best sex of his life! but they...they drained him! It's like....he orgasmed all his life into them! And now he's just this grey, dead shell. Swollen in some rigormortis.

; ; "They're closing in on me; I think they can smell men....our scent...our hormones...they've been tracking me, for hours now. I....no, but look closer at them. It's not like the movies! In fiction, you get these zombies that are clumsy, awkward because they're half-dead. But not this time; these zombies are alive and gorgeous, but they shamble when they walk.....not because their bodies are falling apart; they shamble because they can't stop....m-m-masturbating themselves! Even for a second! Their hands...inside their own vaginas.....constantly! Until they can capture a man!"

; ; *K-THUMP*

; ; "They're at the door; I've barricaded myself inside....don't know how long it will hold them. Not forever; they're too horny! Too aroused! What...what happens to the city now? Not sure...There are no trick or treaters that I can see now; it's the spores. When they infect a child, he enters some kind of weird, dormant chrysalis, like a cocoon. I guess....to sexually mature....so the zombies can use them later.

; ; "C-could...could we have done anything to prevent this? I can't imagine what. The bats...the spores; they spread so fast; it's like they were everywhere at once! Those not infected were soon raped, like....Bradley. The changes....quicker than I would have thought possible. Everyone in power, the decision makers that might save us, before they knew there was a problem, they were on their backs with blond bimbos straddling them, having the sex of their lives....the last sex of their lives.

; ; Fires, looting....you can see it now through the window. The battle was over before it began. The roads....all blocked....phone lines....dead.... emergency services....they're on their backs getting serviced no doubt! ; I...I have to believe this was some sort of attack, but who -

; ; *POOOOM*

; ; "They've almost broken through! I'll look for anyway to resist; anything that can -

; ; "BRADLEY! You're alive? I.....he's moving...moving...in the chest...I thought he was dead, he seems so lifeless but....NO! His...his chest...splitting open! A hand, a feminine hand....emerging...blond hair...a head rising...emerging like a butterfly from a cocoon....I see now; the men....they are infected, and will eventually become zombies anyway! Everyone!

; ; "NO! YOUR NAME IS BRADLEY! KEEP AWAY FROM ME! I DON'T WANT YOUR TITS! I DON'T - NAAAAH!"

; ; ---

; ; It took a few precious moments to force open the barricaded door to room 1769. But Harrison was not attacked as he entered. His shaky fingers gripped a loaded 9 millimeter, but he was uncertain whether to use the weapon on whatever lurked behind the door, or on himself. There were two dead bodies; pale and anemic, but both men's faces where frozen in a rictus of absolute joy and bliss.

; ; "Everything leads back to you; these....bats...the transformations....they all start from this point. I saw the bat-things, coming from this very window. You're responsible for all this chaos." It was a simple statement of fact.

; ; "My worst nightmare come to life.....a city....perhaps an entire world overrun by mindless, sex-crazed bimbos." Harrison announced to the panting, glistening naked woman whose belly was shrinking back down after spawning a horrific legion of infectious spores.

; ; "Nehahahahah! The Host of the Corrupting Phallus of Shub-Niggurath does not like meaningless sex?" twittered the nude brood mother, her coppery-blond hair matted in ringlets to her sweat-laden brow. No....it seemed more like red hair...

; ; "That name! It was in the vault where I was...Cursed....and you know of it...." Harrison was unsure, hesitant. Who else would know that name?

; ; "Oh....I know a great many mysteries, boy. But I never thought to encounter the Corrupting Phallus! How I regretted it when the Phoenician Pirate who last possessed the magic got lost at sea, in the Americas. I never knew if there had been a new host after Valeria Messalina anchored the spell to her own soul." Harrison paused...thinking. He'd known that the wicked empress had borrowed her knowledge of sorcery from an older source, perhaps one even more vile than she was.

; ; "The last man who carried that monster between his legs brought technology to the Mayans and Aztecs, and was the source of the legend of Quetzalcoatl."

; ; "N-no....you have to remember that this culture also produced accurate astronomy, and a system of mathematics." Harrison recalled.

; ; "Hehahah.... Unless their other achievements were also a result of ideas imported from foreigners!"

; ; "N-now we're getting into shaky territory...." Harrison narrowed his eyes. The naked she-devil pursed her lips.

; ; "So you believe that Mayan architecture was simply an original product of the culture with no foreign influence?"

; ; "Lorebabe69?" Harrison asked, afraid for the answer.

; ; "Brainiac360!" she mouthed in awe. The gun dropped from nerveless fingers as his world collapsed around him. Tense silence. Though exhausted, the sleek woman arose from the bed, her body rapidly recovering from pregnancy, she fell into the habit of a seductive pose.

; ; "I have everything, at last. I have spawned finally. It takes centuries for me to produce young, but when I do....they mature so fast....in mere hours. My true children are being born even now; as the sex-vessels become pregnant by whatever men they can catch. And in a city this size, I will create not a handful of young, not even dozens....I can spawn thousands! And in this city, with so many people.....perhaps millions? The world will be a different place on the first of November."

; ; "I...I..." words failed Harrison, it was all too much to take in. But his cock, the dread phallus of ancient gods and slutty empresses thrashed madly! His wicked penis wanted this sex-monster like no one else!

; ; "And now, I have you. The Host of the Corrupting Phallus of Shub-Niggurath has limitless male stamina. And I believe that I cannot drain you; no matter how much seed you give me, it will not harm you. At last.... a man I can keep! For as long as you live, I shall be your companion - I'm not like other women, I believe I can survive the powers of the phallus. And one way or another, I'll not leave until I find out!"

; ; ---

; ; There were islands of consciousness. Brief flashes when Harrison's rational mind briefly emerged from the mad frenzy of the supernatural copulation. The she-devil had learned thousands of positions, but all that mattered was the bliss when he melted into her. The universe had become a sweat-slicked wall of sleek legs, toned thighs and vast breasts.

; ; During one such island; he decided to make the sacrifice. Yes, the demon that was his Internet love seemed largely unchanged after repeated, vast doses of the transforming seed from his cock. But her control was slipping....He sensed it within her, as he gripped her legs, holding them to his hips as he ground into her, with the wall for support.

; ; She could survive the Curse for awhile, but in her mind there was building a raging cauldron of female urges threatening to sweep away reason and memory - it just took much longer. And he lost himself again in the rut.

; ; Was it hours, or minutes later? Another flash of reason amidst the sea of beastial estrus. Harrison knew he could finally have his heart's desire. Imagine, a woman who directly experienced thousands of years of history! He'd already given her more sperm tonight than in a normal month! And her intellect was not yet gone! But....she was destroying an entire city! This....breeding cycle....was doing on a massive scale what he'd done individually, secretely. How many lives had already been lost?

; ; He committed himself then; finally embracing the full power of the dark magic, and jetted it all into her eager slit!

; ; ---

; ; She was limply sucking his penis when he awoke, but not from her ministrations, from the sound of a thunderous roar. He scooped up his ravished and exhausted lover as she screamed, cackled - her face twisted with more lust, more pleasure than even her mind could withstand. The roaring....outside.......

; ; But Astarte was in trouble; it was all too much; there were forces in the cosmos far greater than her few millenia of experience could fathom, and she had taken on too much...too much. With a last burst of lust-laden laughter, her heart stopped their, in Harrison's arms. As she had done to ten-thousand men down through the ages; now it was she who had died from pure pleasure.

; ; The roaring...thundering...like a herd of freight-trains....outside the window...Harrison carried his limp lover to behold a wall of blue.

; ; The ocean itself had risen up, and was about to crash into the city! It was....ahhh.....yes....that was it! He'd heard reports a few days ago about a Great Quake, but it was in the ocean, far from California, so he hadn't worried! But he remembered from some obligatory science classes that earthquakes underwater can cause tremendous waves not apparent at sea, but which rise higher, and higher near shore - tsunamis.

; ; This one, it was much greater than that which caused the disaster in Asia a few years back. This...twice as high as....no...more than that!....An azure wall enveloped the city and rushed forward like the hammer of Poseidon! Below, teeming legions of blond zombie-bimbos masturbated themselves and gathered in mass to assault the hotel. They must sense him! The strange interference he produced that drove women insane; it must be attracting the zombies! Right in the path of the tidal wave. Normal cities should have detected the disaster, and perhaps evacuations and preparations could have been made, but the transformed urban dwellers cared only for filling their wet cunts.

; ; It was an odd peace Harrison felt. He kissed the forehead of Lorebabe69 as the torrent hit the window.

; ; ---

; ; The bearded man walked with a pronounced limp, and was lucky that was the worst he'd suffered, after the disaster he'd survived. Still, he carried three different hats, his trenchcoat could be turned inside out with a totally different color, and he carried two false beards, and a false moustache. He'd gotten his incursions down to a science. In and out, without attracting attention. The bouquet he carried marked him as just another visitor come to visit sick loved ones.

; ; He could do his work and be long gone before the screaming, accusations, and investigations began. From within the bouquet of pink chrysanthemums he produced a syringe full of milky, pearly fluid.

; ; "Mildred Stein.....age 79...Cancer...stroke..." he read from a document he carried. An aged hag clung to false life supported by advanced medical technology, she grunted incoherently, too weak to react. The syringe came out, and a milky fluid - just a small fraction - entered her I.V. drip. And the man was gone.

; ; There was one other to get before he left: Bertha Mayhew, age 85.....Trigeminal neuralgia, receiving surgery for that conditon, which triggered excruciating agony from gusts of wind or the touch of clothing. That....and her second myocardial infarction. Her life essentially over - until her I.V. tube was injected with a precise, controlled amount of that pearly fluid.

; ; That made 18 in this hospital alone; and he was out the door before the staff could figure out what he'd -

; ; "IT WAS YOU!" snarled a gruff voice behind the man. Firm and pudgy hands grasped viciously and yanked at him, causing him to stumble....the syringe jammed into the head-nurse's wrist as she grappled with the criminal intruder.

; ; "No...you BASTARD! You've....poisoned me....like you did....our poor....patients....." her hazel eyes glazed over...and a smile stole across her lips. She was a stocky woman, the type still able to do heavy lifting into her sixties, built like a Sumo-wrestler with a face that a walrus might find attractive - but she'd done good work for many decades, and took pride in that.....until now.

; ; He hustled her into his waiting Ford Taurus as her body began to quiver.

; ; "No...not like your patients...you've accidentally injected yourself with half a syringe full! The women in the hospital received a measured, precise dose that I've tested thoroughly." Seated in the passenger side with no protest, the head nurse stared wide-eyed, gurgling in response, her body seeming to....contract?

; ; "My Curse is....well to some extent a chemically-mediated phenomenon, that means that dosage plays a role. Miniscule parcels can reverse sickness and aging, and I now have the right amount. The doctors will not find shriveled crones where their patients were; instead they will find vibrant women near 30 years of age, their breasts will be no larger than a Double-D cup, and their sex-drives will be no greater than a mere clinical case of nymphomania.

; ; "But for you....you will be a reminder of my dark days, when I had no purpose, wallowing in misery from this Curse." It had started; The stocky figure morphed as though she were melting; waist cincing, breasts perking, hair darkening, skin tightening.....younger.....younger.....

; ; "There's a good chance that some of these women - your former patients will be able to resist the temptation to be strippers and whores. They now have a new lease on life." The pair left the parking lot, heading for the highway.

; ; "I've made my lemons into lemonade; It's my plan to use this Curse to heal the sick, restore lives that are damaged, near their end. I've taken.....ruined so many...so many women.....now, I know how to make up for it." There was a girlish squeal next to him. A comically over-sized nurse's uniform was draped around a freckle-faced redhead with skin as smooth as oiled slik, and breasts large enough to contain a few highschool textbooks. Her face had a cute, button nose, but the rest of her visage mainly resembled Valeria Messalina, a fact no one else would notice.

; ; "I Want you....all of you...I need you..." the girl cooed, as she longingly undid his zipper, and freed his cock that she might suck it.

; ; "Go on...suck as much as you want. That makes one more....

; ; "I've got to make up for the women's lives I destroyed in the Old Days. Those near death, helpless, injured or hopeless. The crazy bag-lady who lives out of a shopping cart....women dying of terminal diseases.....perhaps an escaped convict even! I will travel, and transform doomed women, my Curse, in order to change them into lusty sluts, must also heal them. And someday, the number of women that have been given a second chance at life will surpass the number of women whose lives I've altered.

; ; "I will build an Empire of Flesh from those that society had discarded, the hopeless and lost. And with every women given a second life, I will conquer my guilt.

; ; "Ohhh...oh yes....that feels so good! Are you sure you haven't done this before? You suck like a pro!" A feminine gurgle was the reply, as toned, soft legs spread out over the seat. The girls eyes closed from the sublime, simple bliss of sucking upon the enchanted member.

; ; "I can't really remember how many women I corrupted, so I'll transform the sick for many years to come, to make sure that I've more than balanced the scales....oh....oh that's good......I've got a friend in Dallas who'll want to put you in some of his movies...I'll write his number across your breasts so you won't forget."

; ; "Mmlmmph...mmmm." so happy, so content.

; ; "I've got a lot of work to do....." ; ;