Looda Fucks the World Pt. 01

But today he would introduce her to the sex she had been born with. He drew her hand upward, over the bridge of flesh separating her asshole from her pussy, and used her index finger to part her nether lips. His saliva spilled forth in stringy streams and pattered against the tent's floor. How easy it would be to enter her like this, to fill her needy opening as they both craved. But not now. Isabelle held her breath as Looda traced her finger up her vulva, across the opening of her vagina, and up to the fleshy nib of her clit. Her legs jerked as a shock of unfamiliar bliss coursed through her. Looda dragged her fingertip in lazy circles around the base of her clit. It was suppertime, and this was his main course.

"I shouldn't--" Isabelle whispered through pleasured gasps.

"But what's the harm?"

Looda loosened his control, and Isabelle's finger continued the circular stroking.

"I won't--"

"But you are," Looda rumbled.

And she was. Her fingertips touched and teased her sensitive sex all on their own, without a hint of coercion from the demon inside her. He relaxed, basking in the waves of pleasure as Isabelle's movements sped up and slowed down. She tried other types of strokes, experimenting and uncovering caches of undiscovered ecstasy. Ah, he thought, she is a natural.

Looda fondled her bosom with her free hand, stroking and pinching her thick and supple nipples until they stood proudly erect in the cool air. He lifted one of her breasts, craned her neck, and popped the turgid teat into her mouth, lips and tongue kissing and flicking as she continued to work the other hand between her legs.

Their pleasure gained momentum, hurtling toward a climax. Isabelle, afraid of the unfamiliar sensation, slowed her stroking, but Looda knew better. He urged her onward, full speed ahead. It was time to feast.

The orgasm hit them like a tidal wave. Looda plunged into the ocean of her quintessence and guzzled greedy mouthfuls of her exquisite essence. Isabelle's mouth yawned in a strained and silent scream of ecstasy, her muscles jerking and tensing with each orgasmic pulse. Her tongue, frozen halfway through a lusty lick, began to tingle and throb. The touch of her nipple against her tongue sent sparks down the muscular length into the depths of her throat. As her climax began to fade, she resumed her lapping and relaxed her neck, finding the stretch to reach her breast less and less difficult to achieve. That was when she noticed it.

Her tongue was growing.

Inch after inch of freshly formed flesh spilled past Isabelle's lips as Looda's spirit filled the void he had created. It twitched and curled around her breast as she lifted her head to the sky, lost in the bizarre, otherworldly sensations flowing from her newest erogenous zone. Now it was long enough to lick the salty sweat from her cleavage, and there it stopped its growth. Fully extended, the thick base nearly filled her mouth.

Slowly, Isabelle's breathing returned to normal and her eyes regained focus. Then, she hit a critical point of consciousness and her breath quickened once again. She curled the weighty length of her tongue up in front of her vision, staring with eyes so wide Looda was worried they'd pop out of her skull. She sucked the obscene muscle back into her mouth, inch after inch disappearing impossibly, settling in the depths of her throat, all the way down to her upper chest. Fully retracted, her tongue felt normal in her mouth, but when she moved it, he could feel it shifting deep within.

She tried to scream, but Looda caught her breath. She spat the monstrous length of her tongue free, and grasped it to yank it loose, but he froze her hand into a gentle caress. Her fingers still tasted like pussy. Delicious.

Calm down, he thought, don't be afraid! It's only your tongue.

Isabelle collapsed onto the ground and clenched her eyes. "I'm tainted! I'm cursed!"

Looda made her whisper between sobs. "Possessed, actually."

"Oh. So I'm mad," she whined, tears welling up.

"Quit talking to yourself," he hissed. "Talk to me."

Isabelle paused, then shook her head. "It can't be. You're not real."

Looda stuck out her tongue and slapped it across her cheek. It stung. "How's that for real?"

Isabelle sat shocked, then scrambled for the tent door. "I have to tell the conservator!"

Looda laid her face-down, spread-eagle on the ground. He was much stronger with a full belly. Her attempted screams never got past a peep.

What will the Order do if you tell them?

"Tainted members of The Order are consecrated."

We'll be sent to the abyss?

"To preach the word of Zi-- Z--" she swallowed the name. "The word of The Purifier"

Looda chuckled with her voice. Preach the word of a god you cannot name? You'll be gagged, bound, and bred by the archdemons. It is a honor reserved only for humans who were hosts on the mortal plane.

Isabelle swallowed. "B-bred?"

Incessantly, constantly, Looda thought, conjuring into their minds images of men and women strapped to the infernal racks, swollen with hellspawn, moaning in agonized ecstasy. Yes, yes, you will be living the dream, but I will be punished! I'll be in the chastity cage for centuries. Can you imagine the torment?

Looda let her wipe her eyes. "No. That can't be my fate. I've been pure my entire life!"

It is. It is inevitable. But we can delay it. As long as we exist in this realm, we are free.

For a time, they did not speak. There was only the sound of twilight crickets and the oxen munching the grass outside the tent. At length Isabelle spoke.

"In all the texts about possession, the host's corruption was immediate and complete. Why do I still feel like myself?"

"Because I need you, Isabelle," Looda whispered through her lips. "I would have been exposed a dozen times today if you hadn't stopped me."

"You need me? So I am to be your tool?"

"Not a tool," Looda struggled for words. "A lover. Alone we masturbate; together we fuck."

Isabelle gagged. "I think you mean to say we're a 'team.'"

"Yes. A tag team, but without the tagging! You see, this is why I need you."

"We are no team." Her voice dripped venom. "I hate you. I hate what you've done to me."

I am what I am. Besides, you're the one who fell on the butt-plug.

Isabelle scoffed. "So what, I'm just supposed to turn my back on The Order? My friends? My humanity?"

You enjoyed your first orgasm, didn't you? You want to do it again. You want to try new things, to feel a man inside of you, to sample the pleasures of another woman. And Andry. You want him more than anything, don't you?

The hairs on Isabelle's arms stood on end. Her lips moved, silently forming the word "yes."

"Then we should flee to the nearest town tonight. We can enthrall the townsfolk, transform them into beasts of sex and war. If we're quick, by the time the king and the Order send their armies, we'll have our own army to defend us!"

"You want to take on the king and the Order directly? Are you mad? They'll crush us."

"You underestimate our power."

"I'm not going to help you turn innocent people into vile beasts."

"Taint a few humans in this realm or birth endless hellspawn in the abyss, that is your choice. I feed on quintessence. We have to eat."

Isabelle rolled over onto her back. She made no move to flee. "What if there was another way? I met an old hermit metaphysicist who studied quintessence on my pilgrimage. Maybe he can help us find a different way to feed you. It will be easier to hide if we don't leave a trail of tainted monsters in our wake."

Looda narrowed her eyes. "But would we still get to fuck?"

Isabelle nodded bashfully.

"Then perhaps." He lit up her face. "Or, instead of waiting for the Order to find us, we could go to them! You could penetrate their temple or barracks or whatever you people have, and we could take them down from the inside! Once they're gone, nothing stands in our way."

Then Andry's voice rang from outside the tent. "Isabelle! Dinnertime!"

"I'm coming!" she called back. She reached for her robe and whispered once again. "Whatever we do, I deserve to know the name of my doom. What do you call yourself, demon?"

Her face split into a maniacal smile. "I am Looda, hellion of carnal pleasure, and together, we will take over the world!"

=== PT 2 ==

Where had Isabelle learned to sneak like this?

She moved like a whisper under the cover of the new moon, tiptoeing past Andry's tent, dodging the dried leaves and noisesom pebbles around the wagon. A silent knife slashed the reigns of the Oxen, freeing them to wander and graze. Then it was back to the tent to grab the bag she'd packed full of clothes and more of that 'food' and 'water' she'd been guzzling at dinnertime. With that, they were away.

As the distance between them and the campsite grew, her cautious steps relaxed into a quick trot. They did it! They were free of the Order, free to descend upon the unsuspecting town Isabelle had chosen. Looda giggled with delight, and Isabelle shushed him.

"Are you as excited as I am, human?" Looda churred through her lips.

"No,' she hissed. "We should have gone to the hermit. Corrupting an entire town. . . this plan is insane!"

"But it will be so dellectible, you will see. And perhaps we'll find a metaphysicist there after all."

"That is the only reason I agreed to this."

"How far is this 'Dill?'" he asked impatiently.

"A day's walk at least."

Looda groaned and scowled with Isabelle's face. He extended her tongue, stretching it down her robes to slide slickly across her breast. Oh how wonderful it will be, Looda thought, to plunge its sensitive tip deep into an eager victim, to feel their insides clenching around the muscular length, milking it like a giant wriggling cock.

Isabelle slurped the tongue back into her mouth. "Stop thinking stuff into my brain like that," she snapped. "It's difficult to tell which thoughts are mine and which ones are yours."

"Who's to say they weren't your thoughts?" Looda chuckled. "I can only guess what lewd fantasies you have about that Andry boy."

His mind wandered between lurid fantasies. How delightful would it be to take his dick into their mouth, tasting the fresh musk of his under-appreciated flesh, wrapping their long and sensuous tongue around his length until it was cocooned in a writhing spiral of muscle. He'd wonder at the strange sensations, but he wouldn't scream, only moan--

"Isabelle?"

Isabelle's breath caught in her mouth. She spun around to see Andry standing high above them on the crest of the previous hill.

"Andry!" she gasped. How long had he been following? What had he heard? "Andry, what are you doing here?"

The boy jogged down the hill to meet them. "What am I doing here?" he asked between breaths. "What are you doing here? I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about you. I know it sounds crazy, but those things you said to me earlier, the way you looked at me, I couldn't get it out of my head. went to your tent, but you weren't there. I looked up and down the road, over the meadows. You were nowhere to be seen."

"How did you find me?"

"I don't know. Intuition? Smell? Something told me to run in this direction." He lifted his hand to her shoulder, and she froze. "Isabelle. I don't know what's going on, but I want to help you. I want to be with you."

Isabelle caressed the arm that touched her shoulder. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. He returned the kiss, then initiated the next. Their passion made up for their inexperience.

Looda drooled with anticipation as he watched the scene unfold. It wouldn't be long until he was feasting on this one's humanity. He wondered what the boy would become after he'd freed his inner beast. Sluts and thugs never changed much. It was these pious sorts, the ones who made a habit of depriving themselves that got the worst of it. Perhaps he'd make a powerful, demonic steed and they'd be able to ride the rest of the way to Dill on his back.

Isabelle brought her lips to his ear. The stubble of his cheek prickled against her own.

"You can help me," she whispered, nibbling on his ear lobe. Her slender hand slid down his stomach to his belt, then lower, until her fingertips grazed the hardness growing between his legs.

Looda could feel the boy's heartbeat through his trousers. He was so proud of Isabelle for seizing this opportunity. He couldn't have done it better himself.

"I'll do anything for you," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Isabelle curled her tongue up behind his ear, slowly, sensually. She opened her lips to whisper, and Looda wondered which seductive words she'd say.

"Run."

Andry turned to face her. "What?"

"Rrr--" she strained against Looda to form the word. "Rrrut-- Rrrut me-- Run! Get away!"

Andry stepped back, shock and confusion on his face. "Isabelle. What's happening?"

Isabelle dropped to her knees as Looda pumped her full of lust. She would fuck him! She had to! He groped her breasts and pawed at her pussy through her robe, straining and groaning as she fought his influence with all her might.

"Go!" she struggled.

Andry stepped backwards, horror on his face. "I will, Isabelle. If it is what you want, I will." He turned and sprinted back toward the camp.

Looda screamed as their prey disappeared over the hills. This stupid human! What was she thinking!? He plunged her hands into her robe and began to masturbate furiously.

✠ ISABELLE ✠

Even as the demon's frustrated roar erupted from her mouth, Isabelle's lips lilted into a smile. She was victorious.

Exhausted, she acquiesced to the demon's will. Her hands danced across her body with a frenzied mind of their own, tweaking her nipples and slicking against her pussy. Her tongue lolled a foot from her mouth. One hand wrapped around its length and started stroking it like a cock.

She wasn't enjoying this shameful display of lust. No, despite the mind-numbing pleasure, despite the sought-after relief, despite the profound fulfillment, she hated it. And if she did feel some tiny inkling of joy, of bliss, of pure unadulterated ecstacy, then surely it was because she had saved Andry, and certainly not because she'd just discovered that, if she curled her back, her elongated tongue could lick her clit.

Isabelle came with a guttural, desperate moan. Whether it was her or the demon that made the sound, it was difficult to tell. The terrible ecstacy inundating her mind began to ebb, leaving her huddled on the ground, panting. She withdrew a shaking hand from her crotch and pulled her femcum-soaked tongue back into her mouth.

Then, with a sudden impulse, her voice rang out. "What was that? Are you trying to blue-ball me to death?"

It was the demon.

"No," she said, speaking as calmly as she could manage. "I wanted to lay with him, but I couldn't."

"What do you mean? He was ready and willing! You felt how hard his cock was. He would have bent us over the stump in a heartbeat!"

Her stomach flipped at the sound of her own voice saying such vile words.

"I couldn't bring myself to taint him. I love him."

"Pft!" Looda spat. "How can you love someone you've never fucked? You humans make no sense. You said you lusted for him back in the tent. Now you pull out at the last second! You better not be going limp on me."

Isabelle gazed back toward the empty path. "Don't worry. I don't love anyone in Dill."

She stood and continued down the moonlit trail. Dill had a reputation for being filled with drunks, swindlers, other disreputable types. She didn't relish the idea of corrupting it further, but what choice did she have? If she outright refused, the demon inside of her would simply corrupt her beyond recognition and do as it liked. The longer she retained her humanity, the more control she had over the creature.

That was the reason she marched down the trail, not because she was excited about this new adventure or the pleasures it promised. She'd had no trouble ignoring the siren's song of her lust in the past. Why should it be any different now that she'd had a bite of the forbidden fruit? Yet the taste, figuratively and literally, was still fresh in her mouth, and the memory of burying her tongue between her legs made her skin flush.

Isabelle rushed down the trail. Was it her own excitement driving her or the demon's? His influence was subtle: an increased libido, a stray invasive thought, an sudden impulse. Sometimes it was difficult for her to tell where Isabelle stopped and Looda began.

It wasn't until the sun's burning rind peered over the mountaintops that she thought to stop for food and sleep. She was not hungry or tired, despite not having eaten since dinner or slept in over a day. Now she was certain it was the demon motivating her legs to keep their aggressive pace.

"We should rest."

Looda was not concerned with hunger or exhaustion. He informed her that she'd abandoned those particular human traits back in her tent. Now her body-- their body-- was fueled by quintessence, hers for now, others' later. Her stomach had been replaced by the furnace of Looda's spirit, and the loaves of bread in her pack could not feed the hunger growing in their loins. The thought made her skin crawl. Was she even human anymore?

Looking at her, the other travelers on the road saw a human girl. None could know that every time she spoke a passing greeting, each time she swallowed nervously under their stares, she felt her snake of a tongue shifting deep inside her throat. They did not see a woman who'd taken a butt-plug so recently her asshole was still swollen and tender. The swelling seemed to be getting worse as time went on. Now she could feel her engorged pucker shifting between her cheeks with each hurried step. Every touch brought a tickling tingle that only stoked her arousal. No, she realized, not arousal. Hunger.

Each fork pitched the road upward into the foothills of the looming mountains. The unkempt rural path soon gave way to a wide, well-traveled highway paved with shale slate gathered from the nearby cliffs.

So, at last, they came to Dill, a wood-walled township tucked into a great canyon at the base of the mountain pass. The setting sun warmed her back as she approached, casting a long shadow onto the town's main gate. The barrier was intimidating but dilapidated, indicating the town's long-forgotten strategic significance. Those days, the gate was used to keep out wild beasts, the undesirable, the dangerous.

They passed through with a grunt and a nod from the gatekeeper.

It didn't often work.

Isabelle crept down streets lined by timber and stone buildings with steeply pitched roofs. She tried not to draw any attention, but Looda was like a wolf in a flock of sheep. He pulled her head this way and that to ogle the breasts and asses of all the people bustling to and fro, cleaning up their market stalls and returning to their homes for the night. He licked her lips, using perhaps a few too many inches of her elongated, demonic tongue. She slurped it back inside.

"Oooh, let's fuck him," he urged, speaking of a middle aged man hauling cart of melons down an alleyway.

Isabelle wrenched her eyes away. "No! We can't just accost a random citizen in the streets. We need privacy."

Looda grumbled, looked about, and swept her over to a nearby candle-lit window. He pressed her face against the glass with all the yearning of a child gazing at a bakery's sweets. "Then, let's go in this building and fuck the people inside!"

The woman inside snapped her head toward the sound of their voice. Isabelle ducked out of view. "No!" she whispered angrily. "Those are just ordinary people going about their lives. If we're going to do this, we have to find someone who deserves it."