Jane's Demonic Breeding

WARNING! AUTHOR'S NOTES APPROACHING!

Hello, friendly readers! Please note that everyone in this story is 18 years of age or older. Also be aware that this story contains a variety of kinks, including breeding, cum inflation, and overly large penis. If that's not your jam, let us part as friends. But if you're into it, read on! It's my pleasure to present this infernal work of erotic fiction, inspired by numerous classic (and vastly superior) writings on hell.

AUTHOR'S NOTES CONCLUDED. WE HAVE COME TO TERMS.

~~~~~~~

Jane sat at her computer, doomscrolling through the postings on an online classified ads site. It was midnight, and the only light in her studio apartment was the glow of her monitor. The text on the screen was reflected in her oversized, dorky, hipster glasses as she leaned in close, desperately hoping that one of the listings might contain the solution to her woes.

At age 19, and a freshman in college, Jane was only really sure about two things: one, that she was probably never going to fulfill her parents wish that she become a lawyer. And two, that she wanted more than anything to be a mother. Her parents were both well-educated professionals, and they insisted that Jane start a serious career before starting a family, but for her, a family was all she wanted -- damn the career.

However, due to a tragic quirk of her genetics, she could never get pregnant. Years of doctor visits as a child had confirmed a small but obvious defect in her reproductive system. It wouldn't impact any other aspect of her life -- she was in fabulous health in every other respect, in fact, and in fantastic shape for her age. But the fact remained that, medically speaking, she could never be a mother.

Her friends had suggested surrogates or adoption, but Jane's dilemma was that she wanted -- needed -- to carry the baby herself. She wanted to raise a child of her own, of course, but that was only part of it. Jane wanted to feel life quickening within her, and her belly swelling as her baby grew. In fact, the idea of being bred got Jane so turned on she couldn't think straight. The notion consumed her waking life and haunted her dreams.

More than once, Jane had to excuse herself from class when her perverted thoughts became too intrusive, so that she could sneak off to the girls' restroom and frig herself silly. Given the cute, nerdy hipster persona she projected in public, she wondered what her professors and classmates would think if they knew her secret little kink.

Her perverted side had eventually turned into a full-blown alter-ego. It had started as her just posting lewd photos online with her face hidden, often with titles referencing her desire to be impregnated, and she'd developed a small but loyal following. Over time she'd even grown adventurous enough to post gifs and even videos -- for those generous fans willing to pay, of course. Her fans were well aware of her little fantasies, as she tended to end many of her recording sessions by screaming out her need to bred while she masturbated herself to a series of explosive orgasms. In fact, she was still recovering from just such a recording session as she sat naked in her computer chair with a discarded and well-used vibrator nearby.

Her camera was still on, in fact, though she wasn't recording, and Jane caught sight of herself on her second monitor. Seeing her ripe, nubile young body, Jane thought what a shame it was she was unable to conceive. Her breasts were perfect little handfuls, with wide, puffy areolas, and nipples that jutted out like two hard erasers. Her skin was pink and smooth, shiny now with sweat from her self-induced bliss. Jane had wavy blonde-meets-brown hair, her natural color, and it hung loose and unkempt now, though she often wore it in a tight ponytail in class. Her little mouth had just the slightest pout to it. Jane was short in stature, and a quarter Japanese on her mother's side, giving her brown eyes just a hint of an exotic cast. All in all, she thought with a bit of vanity, why wouldn't any man love to put a baby in me?

And many had tried, of course. Since going away to college at Great Midwestern University (Go Rivermen!), Jane had dated liberally. Her upper-middle-class parents had paid for her to have her own tiny apartment off-campus, which gave her plenty of privacy with gentleman callers. Her boyfriends usually balked at the idea of cumming inside her, but after Jane explained her unique situation, they were all too happy to blast away. Secretly, Jane hoped one of them might manage to fire the magic bullet that got her pregnant, but none of them had proved up to the task, and none of them lasted very long.

So, Jane's typical nightly ritual, after she finished a recording session and waited for the video to render, was to scroll pathetically through online classifieds, looking for any kind of miracle treatment or therapy that could fix the little problem with her ovaries. She'd turned to the mystical and the occult, even going to visit a few so-called shamans and witches, but they'd all turned out to be fakers and charlatans. But she kept at it, hoping beyond hope that one day, her prayers would be answered...

Jane stopped scrolling. An ad had caught her eye. In large, bold, all-caps text, she read the headline:

TROUBLE CONCEIVING? I CAN BREED YOU... FOR A PRICE.

She was intrigued. Many such headlines had proved bogus before, but the simple brash confidence of this one pulled her in. She clicked on it and read the text of the ad:

"If you are reading this ad, your predicament must be this: you wish to be a mother, but human science and your own meager flesh have failed you. Do not despair, for I possess the solution to your problems.

If I deem you worthy to carry my spawn, I will breed you over the course of a single appointment. Whatever ailment or impediment you may be suffering from is of no consequence -- I will overcome it. You will absolutely, without a doubt, fall pregnant, and your child shall be perfectly healthy.

The price is this: the child shall be mine, to raise as I see fit, and to be visited by you, its mother, as often as I decide, or possibly never.

Serious applicants should reply to this posting, and address their missives to Azalok. A reply will follow directly."

Jane chuckled as she finished reading. He was certainly confident, this man who called himself Azalok. She figured it was probably just some nerd who watched too much anime having a laugh, but she figured, what the hell? It couldn't hurt to reply. The board was anonymous, anyway, so it wasn't like this person would be able to find her. She clicked the reply button, and a message box popped up, addressed to the user called "Azalok."

"Okay," Jane typed. "You sound pretty cocky, Mister Azalok. Tell me, have you ever actually been with a girl? Or are you just some dork in their mom's basement? Well, I'll tell you what: I'm in need of your services, as unbelievable as they sound. If you can back up your big talk, then you've got yourself a deal."

She signed the message "Madrigal_Counterpoint," the username she posted her nudes under. After reading over the message once more, Jane clicked Send.

Sitting back in her chair, she chuckled to herself. I'm so pathetic, she thought. After all, would she be up past midnight replying to random classified ads if she wasn't pathetic? Oh well, she thought. No harm done.

Jane stood and stretched, yawned hugely, and turned to head towards bed. Her tiny apartment consisted of just a single room which contained her bed, computer, and television, with a kitchenette and a small bathroom adjoining. She might have been supported by her parents, but they weren't about to spring for the life of luxury. Still, it suited her needs well enough. She flopped down on the comfy covers of her unmade bed and snuggled in, ready to drift off to dreamland.

That was when she heard the knock at her door.

Jane startled, jumping a foot in the air. Who in the hell would be knocking at this time of night? Her first thought was that it was her last boyfriend, Brad, coming to beg for her to take him back. She'd dumped him after he got too drunk at a party and started hitting on her best friend, Alahna. But Brad was a stuck-up frat boy, and he didn't seem like the needy type.

Her next thought was that Alahna was here, and in some kind of trouble. But surely Alahna would have texted first. When Jane glanced at her phone and saw no new messages, she doubted that was the case.

A neighbor, then? Locked out of their apartment and desperate for aid? She didn't talk to her neighbors much, and in the complex she lived in people didn't tend to socialize outside of basic pleasantries when they passed in the hallway.

As she was running through the possibilities, the knock came again. It was a steady, firm knock, not too loud, but far from meek. Not a cop-knock, but the knock of someone who was confident they were in the right place, and did not like to be kept waiting. It was then that Jane remembered she had a peep hole, and kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner.

She padded on bare feet across the soft carpet to her door and brought her eye to the narrow peephole. Through it she saw a clear, if distorted, view of the stranger who had come knocking.

And if she'd had on socks, they would have been knocked off.

Her caller was a man who looked to be either in his late twenties or early thirties, but he had a certain ageless quality that made it hard to tell. The clothes he wore seemed effortlessly chiche, like he'd just tossed on whatever he had. A black leather jacket hung open over a tight black shirt that seemed painted onto an extremely well-defined chest. He wore faded denim pants with a tear over one knee. It seemed he was a bit behind the times as far as trends went, but she wasn't complaining.

His clothes were one thing, but it was the head on his shoulders that really captured her attention. A light dusting of jet-black stubble dotted his solid jawline. A pair of provocative lips curled in a slightly sardonic smirk. Thick, expressive eyebrows were set about eyes colored a piercing cobalt blue, so dark they were almost black. His hair was dark as midnight and swept up and back, with the same thoughtless allure as his wardrobe.

He was, in short, one of the most attractive men Jane had ever seen.

For a few moments she forgot who she was as her heart thudded in her chest, entirely transfixed on this mysterious hot guy outside her apartment. Who is he, she thought, and what in god's name is he doing here? Already her brain was imagining kissing those sultry lips and peeling that skintight shirt off of his rippling abs...

"Ahem," said her visitor, clearing his throat. His voice was a bit muffled through the door, but she understood him clearly. "Are you going to let me in, Miss Madrigal, or just stare?"

Jane gasped. How had he known she was watching him? She panicked, suddenly feeling incredibly rude and voyeuristic.

"Just a second!" she called back instinctively.

Then her brain caught up with her mouth and she realized that the mysterious stranger had just called her "Miss Madrigal" -- the name of her internet persona. Immediately she thought of the classified ad she'd just answered, and the words "I will breed you" reverberated in her mind. There's no way this could be Azalok -- right?

Jane backed up into the room and realized she was still completely naked. She grabbed a silky, cream-colored robe hanging on the back of her desk chair and threw it on, cinching up the belt. It was short and thin, leaving little to the imagination, but in her addled state she thought little of it. Returning to the door, Jane caught herself about to undo the chain and open it. What am I doing? she thought. He could be a serial killer for all I know!

"Who is it?" she said, her voice coming out meeker than she intended.

"You know who I am," replied the man. His voice was a rich, commanding baritone, like that of a Roman senator used to addressing halls full of aristocratic nobles. It was a voice that was neither harsh nor angry, but brooked no dissent.

"Umm," said Jane, hesitating. "I do?"

With an exasperated sigh, the man said, "You summoned me here, Miss Madrigal. Or do you prefer Jane?"

Her heart jumped into her throat at the use of her given name. How does he know my name? I've never met him before in my life! She was terrified now, and thoughts of stalkers raced through her head. Alahna had always told her the whole e-girl thing was a bad idea, that it was bound to attract creepers and weirdos. Now there was one right outside her door.

"Just who the hell are you?" Jane demanded, finding her voice. "Don't make me call the cops, dude!"

She set her eye to the peephole again, wondering if her threat would send him away. Yet a part of her was relieved to find him still standing there, rolling his brilliantly dark eyes as he blew out another sigh. "Miss Madrigal. You do me a great disservice. Are you not the one who accused me of being, and I quote, 'just some dork in their mom's basement?'"

"Ohmygod," sputtered Jane. This was too crazy. Those were her own words, typed into a computer message not ten minutes ago. "How can you know that?" she asked, less of a demand this time and more of a plea.

"You replied to my posting, Miss Madrigal. I offered a service, and you said that if I could back up my claims, then we would have a deal. Well, I am he, the one with whom you communicated: Azalok."

Her fingers acted without instructions from her brain. Trembling, Jane undid the deadbolt on her door, but left the security chain on. She cracked the door open and peered out into the hallway. Her mystery man's dreamy eyes lit up at the sight of her, and he stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully.

"Ah," he remarked, "Even more beautiful in the flesh. I am a fan of your work, you know."

"You... are?" she squeaked.

"Of course. Artful, playful, seductive. You are a cut above the other... what is the phrase... 'internet thots,' I believe?"

She couldn't suppress a mad giggle at hearing this man with the stentorian voice and precise elocution say the word "thot."

"Did I say something funny?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Umm... no, not really. I'm just frazzled. Look, this is so weird, man. Even if I believe you've seen my pics, and even if I believe you're the guy from the classified ad, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Did we not strike a bargain?" he replied, brow knitting in confusion.

"A... bargain? What?"

"I offered a service and you accepted. In fact, I believe your words were: 'you've got yourself a deal.' Offer and acceptance, the basis of a contract, no? I believe it is customary to honor one's contracts, in this realm."

Jane's mind was racing as she focused in on just what sort of agreement they had made -- on what, exactly, he had offered. She felt a guilty tremble in her loins, and couldn't help biting her bottom lip as she fought down the excitement coursing through her.

"Say it," said Azalok, his midnight-blue gaze suddenly turning predatory, his voice taking on a commanding timbre.

"Say what?" she stammered in response.

"What you want from me. The service I offered, which you accepted. Say it."

"I... I didn't... I mean..."

"Say it," he ordered, and this time his voice seemed to deepen and echo with otherworldly force, buffeting her soul with its insistence.

The words were practically ripped from her throat: "To breed me," she whispered.

"There, now," he said, his expression softening, an eager smile spreading across his face. He flicked his hand up in a casual gesture and the chain on her slipped from its track as if by magic. Jane stumbled back into her room as the door swung inward, and Azalok strode into her home.

He shut the door behind him and surveyed the apartment. It was small, but Jane had furnished it as well as she could, even hanging a few prints of her favorite paintings by Leonardo and Bruegl on the walls. Azalok made a shrugging gesture as if to say, not my style, but good enough.

Jane was suddenly feeling very vulnerable, noticing now just how tall and muscular this man was. He towered over her, and she realized he could easily overpower her if he wanted to. And then there was the matter of how he'd undone her lock with a flick of his hand...

As if sensing her discomfort, Azalok grinned disarmingly and said, "Aren't you going to offer me something to drink?"

"I... oh. A drink. Of course." Jane's hospitality instincts kicked in. "Would you like a beer?" she asked, striding over to the fridge in the kitchenette. "Sorry the place is such a mess."

"No no, it is perfectly cozy," he replied charitably. "And a beer would be most welcome."

Jane got a couple of hoppy IPAs from her fridge and opened them. "Do you want a glass?" she called over her shoulder.

"Just the bottle is fine," her guest answered.

Jane returned to the main room and handed him one of the bottles. She gestured over to her empty computer chair, and Azalok gratefully took a seat. Jane sat on the bed, facing him, and took a drink of her beer. Somehow, going through the routine of offering a guest a drink and a place to sit took the edge of the massive weirdness of the situation. She realized that she'd left her vibe out sitting nearby the chair Azalok was lounging in with his legs crossed, but if he notice, he didn't comment on it.

A few moments of awkward silence passed while they both sipped their beers.

Then Jane couldn't help herself any longer.

"Just who... what are you, man?" she asked.

"Hmm," he mused. "A good question. The answer is actually very simple, but probably will only raise more questions for you. Let us say... I am a servant of one who fell. Once my kind dwelt in paradise, but now they tred a baser path."

She let those words sink in, and the lessons from Protestant Sunday School she'd been forced to sit through as a child came back to her. "You're... a demon?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes!" said Azalok, grinning and snapping his fingers. "You have it exactly -- I am a demon!" He chuckled, as if never having realized it might be put in such simplistic terms. "But forget what you read in your holy books about good and evil. The truth is not so simple. My master, Lord Morningstar, quarrelled with he who dwells above. Of course, neither side was without folly, but in the end our faction lost, and so we were cast down. It is what it is. Still, better to rule in hell, than serve in heaven, no? I have found this existence quite liberating, to be honest."

"So... wait... you're a literal demon... like, Satan is your boss... but you go around posting online classified ads?"

Azalok took a pensive swig and tapped one foot absently, composing his thoughts before he answered her.

"You know, it seemed odd at first to me, as well. But, one must keep up with the times. Our only real recreation is in playing with mortals -- hell is terribly dull, take it from me. It used to be that I had to appear in clouds of smoke, with the scent of brimstone in the air, and go through this dreadful pageantry just to convince a mortal to promise me their unborn child. The internet has made things so much simpler, to be quite honest. The amount of young women with a breeding fetish is almost unbelievable." He grinned, and added as an aside: "And I also enjoy the videos of cats."

Great, thought Jane. A literal, immortal demon from hell, who posts online and likes cat videos. This is officially the weirdest day ever.

"Ah, but I digress," said Azalok. He stopped tapping his foot and fixed Jane with his alluring cobalt-blue gaze. "Let us get back to the matter at hand. We made a deal, conditional of course. I agreed to breed you, should I find you acceptable, and you agreed to be bred, should I be able to back up my claims. I assume that you are unable to conceive by traditional means?"