Chapter 8
Demon Queen's Notice: The following piece was commissioned by T-GF, whose DeviantArt account can be found HERE. In the near future, 3D art by T-GF will be added. Please enjoy!
Emil’s hands shook as he tried to prepare dinner. He was driven by the urge to please Caydee, to make her happy, to earn any mysterious rewards that would come from doing so. Even as he worked, he was aware of the dissonance in his mind. The memories of his life before all of this screamed out in protest of the idea that he was so pathetically excited to have sex with two women, especially that bitch Priscilla. His body, however, betrayed his protests. His cock, small as it was, was almost painfully hard. He actually wanted to go upstairs.
Emil had to consciously control himself to ensure he made the best dish possible. If he didn’t keep his mind on the task, it would shoot right back to thinking about sex. He almost forgot two steps of a dish he’d made dozens of times for Cod…Caydee. It didn’t help that his exposed panties, which looked completely out of place on his hairy, masculinized body, were uncomfortably wet from his earlier embarrassing and touchless public orgasm.
As Emil was finishing up the dish, he heard a spank and a moan from upstairs. With his cock twitching in response to the moan, he rushed to get the plates together, put them on the tray, and get up the stairs. He hesitated at the door.
Should I knock?
Emil honestly didn’t know what was expected of him. No matter what, though, he wanted to please Caydee; that need was preeminent in his mind.
After a few more moments of hesitation, Emil decided to open the door. The sight that met him almost made him drop the tray. Caydee was sitting on the edge of the bed, her feet not even touching the floor. Priscilla was on her knees with her head between Caydee’s legs, her face red and her lips swollen from stimulation. Caydee had a handful of Priscilla’s hair clutched between her fingers, ensuring Priscilla would stay right where she was.
Emil flushed. His legs were suddenly shaky. Caydee looked over at him, smiling darkly.
“Oh! About time you joined us, you little thing. Put the food over on the drawers and then go wash up. No touching.”
Emil nodded, too nervous to disagree. Wide-eyed, he watched as Caydee pushed Priscilla’s face back between her legs, then rushed over to the bathroom door, breathing heavily as he shut it behind him.
He was immediately confronted with an image of himself. There was no doubting it; he had changed utterly. His body was totally unlike his memories of the past. He was slightly taller, significantly heavier, and hairier than he could have ever predicted. Hair now spread up his round belly, up the middle of his chest, and across to either one of his heavy man-boobs. His ass had lost its feminine shape, as had his thighs and hips. He was, in short, almost completely the opposite of anything he had ever been. Dark, rough hair spread out from beneath his arms, and even his forearms were covered in dark hair.
The last detail to greet his eyes was the outline of his diminutive cock stretching the tight material of his ill-fitting panties. Emil sighed, disappointed in himself for still being aroused by every single aspect of the situation. Even as he stepped into the shower, he couldn’t get Caydee’s last sentence out of his mind: No touching.
He shuddered, his skin raising into goosebumps from the clash of the cool air and the hot steam of the shower. He washed quickly but meticulously, being especially careful around his crotch. One errant scrub nearly sent him over the edge. The level of arousal…the hair trigger orgasms…if he kept up like this, he’d be forced to live the life of a horny pervert forever. How could he even go outside when everything made him think of sex? When any sexual attention pushed him over the edge?
As he washed his hair, he realized how out of place it must look. Long, well-cared-for hair on such a hairy and short body. He could even feel stubble coming in on his face. Emil felt like he was in a dream, but the sensations were all too real. The alien feeling of his thick fingers rubbing against the rough skin of his face only seemed to enhance the exotic sexuality of the situation he had found himself in.
Emil heard a loud moan rise above the sound of the shower. His cock twitched involuntarily, and his heartrate picked up yet again. He needed to hurry. He needed to…
To what?
His mind filled with a cascade of fantasies. Subservience. Humiliation. Worship at the feet of his beautiful, dominant, slut of a wife. His post-shower routine was a blur. Towel drying, blow drying, brushing; all of it was lost in a blur of sexual heat.
Emil hesitated at the door, his undersized cock throbbing under the towel. He listened, completely silent, for almost a full minute before he finally worked up the courage to turn the handle.
The scene before him was stunning. He felt a surge between his legs, then the feeling of his cock and balls contracting. It took everything in him to hold himself back from cumming himself again. He was so close to the edge just from seeing his wife and her mistress on the bed.
Carefully tied knots and loops of red rope spread across Priscilla’s bare skin. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her legs were slung upwards such that her dripping slit was exposed constantly. No manner of wriggling would let her conceal herself. Priscilla’s face was flushed; she was panting.
At the end of the bed, Caydee was standing with her legs wide – a dominant stance. Her graceful feet were exposed, covered only by the spiderwebbing pattern of fishnets. Her nipples were hidden behind crosses of black tape, and she wore a deep black g-string. In the low light of the room, Emil could see that it was slick and wet.
Where did she even find that?
Emil was shaking. He was speechless. Before such a sight, he was utterly powerless. He wanted to fall down on his knees and beg for release, but he simply couldn’t move.
Caydee looked over her shoulder, straight into Emil’s eyes. That sexy, cruel smile crept across her face again.
“Come here, pet,” she said.
Her words were neither loud nor soft; they were clear, commanding, all-encompassing. Emil stepped towards her.
“No, no. That’s not how my pet will approach,” Caydee said, with the slightest hint of reproach in her voice.
Fear of displeasing Caydee flooded Emil’s mind. He got down on his knees. He crawled toward her. As he got closer to the woman who had once been his boyfriend, he couldn’t help but whimper. The strangest sense of Déjà vu crept over him. He turned his eyes upwards to see Caydee’s legs extend up above him. Above that, the silhouette of her small, tight breasts framed her darkened face. Emil moaned.
Dropping his gaze downward, he watched as Caydee lifted her left foot off the floor below his head. Pressing her toes against his face, she smiled.
“Lick, pet.”
Emil obeyed immediately, extending his tongue to meet her skin. Ecstasy surged through his body. The raw sexual heat within him grew stronger than he could have ever imagined. He had never been so aroused in all his life. He hadn’t known it was even possible to be so aroused.
Emil’s mind went blank. All that he could focus on was the sensation of his tongue sliding across the soft skin of her toes down to her perfectly manicured, painted-red nails. He had forgotten how shaky he was, and he had forgotten to keep control of himself.
Laughing softly, Caydee pushed her toes between Emil’s lips. Emil’s face contorted as he felt his arousal reach its peak. As Caydee pulled her toes out of Emil’s mouth, Emil hung his head. Looking down he saw his impossibly hard little cock twitch and then spurt. Pleasure surged across his body. He thrust his hips toward the floor involuntarily, shooting another line of hot cum onto the floor. He couldn’t stop. Caydee’s laughter was only making it hotter and more arousing.
“Touch yourself, my lovely little pet,” Caydee said softly, bending down to his ear, “perform for me.”
Emil couldn’t help but obey, even as he saw Caydee smile and turn away from him. Caydee laughed softly one last time before she traced her fingers across Priscilla’s bound legs, eliciting a moan from the quivering bisexual that Emil had once only known as an acquaintance. Emil lifted himself off of all fours, staying on his knees, so that he could watch and obey.
He slid his hands down his new body, his eyes locked on the scene that was unfolding on the bed. Priscilla was moaning. Caydee was running her tongue across Priscilla’s thighs. Emil felt every inch of his body from his chest down to his cock. Dark, thick hair now covered his belly, especially thick from his belly button to his bush. He could barely feel his cock reaching out of his pubes.
His fingers made contact with the shaft of his shrunken cock just as Caydee flicked her tongue across Priscilla’s feet. The girl on the bed moaned as Caydee’s tongue, surprisingly long, danced across the soles of her feet, up to her toes, in between each toe and then up her ankles. Finally, Caydee lifted her tongue away from Priscilla’s skin. For a brief moment, she simply seemed to be surveying the scene that she had wrought. Then she bent over and placed her thick, shapely lips over Priscilla’s swollen, aroused cunt.
Emil was granted a perfect view of Caydee’s ass, swaying in rhythm with the bobbing of her head between Priscilla’s spread legs. He was hypnotized by his mistress, pumping away at the cock that now resided between his hairy legs.
As Priscilla moaned louder and louder, Emil found himself in an almost transcendent level of arousal, an oxytocin high that filled his mind with images of gentle, rich pleasure. His strokes across his little, hypersensitive cock fell into sync with the sway and jiggle of Caydee’s perfect ass.
Drifting through the muddled haze of post-orgasmic bliss and rebuilding arousal, Emil’s thoughts turned, at last, to his life beyond the room. His life. He was not who he once was, his now-wife believed it had always been this way, and the man who caused it all had likely skipped town without a trace. His wife was a nymphomaniac who had no problem fucking another partner in front of him. What was worse was that deep down, beneath the fear and the resistance and the apprehension, he didn’t mind.
Each stroke of his cock brought Emil closer to orgasm and brought more fantastical visions into his head, yet each vision seemed to hold a piece of truth, perhaps even a shred of what lay in the future for him. He saw himself being used as a footrest while Caydee’s girlfriends took turns painting their nails. He saw himself sucking the cock of a much more attractive man while Caydee looked on and ordered them both around. He saw his hairy body being teased by the feet of all of Caydee’s partners; some of them had faces he knew, others were unknown to him.
He felt his balls tightening again. Priscilla was cumming, her moans growing ever louder at the intense workings of Caydee’s tongue. Emil’s eyes were locked on the girl’s feet, tied in place over Caydee’s back. Her feet, soft and flushed, arched and flexed with every moan.
With an involuntary moan, Emil felt himself reach climax again. His body shook with pleasure, and he felt hot cum on his fingers. Priscilla was gasping in the glow of her own orgasm, and Emil could see that Caydee’s fingers had found their way down to her own wet slit.
Emil’s body felt weak, but he had never felt better in all his life. He simply stared forward as the afterglow of his second orgasm alleviated his worries and concerns. He was his wife’s hairy, submissive, tiny-cocked lover. He would get to worship feet every day for the rest of his life. He would be loved even as the hairy pervert he had become.
Emil slumped back, watching in awe as Caydee rubbed herself to orgasm, her legs shaking as her wetness slid down her legs. As she came, she tilted her head back, glancing at Emil and smiling that devious smile. Emil knew that somehow, everything would be okay.