The Demigod: Citrine 02

Please read chapter 1.

Please think about leaving me a comment if you rate. Helps me do better.

This is a work of fantasy and fiction. Any coincidental resemblance to actual places or persons is just that, coincidence. Copyright 2019, Coyote Howard.

The Demigod: Citrine 2

Roland got in his car and left, having his plan and intent now. He knew of a weed dealer close to here.

Several blocks over he parked his car and got out, knocking on the door to the small home.

"Yeah?" came the reply from the skinny white man that answered.

"Do you sell drugs?" he asked.

"The fuck?" the skinny white man said.

"I order you to answer all of my questions and do everything I say, but remain yourself," Roland said, irises faintly glowing orange and the uneasiness he'd felt in his chest now in his stomach as well, but faintly. "Now, do you sell drugs?"

"Yes," he said.

"What kinds?"

"I sell weed and some ecstasy sometimes."

That wasn't what Roland was looking for, and the "off" feeling taking his thoughts for a moment.

"I need something harder. Meth. Cocaine. Do you know of anyone that sells that?"

"Yeah, ol dude over on 5th and Gerald St. He's usually there after midnight," he said calmly.

"Awesome, thanks," Roland said, about to issue an order to forget he was even there.

"Hey, if you're looking for girls, he has a hookup. Young ones too, if you're into that."

Roland stopped and looked back at the man.

He was a deviant Roland was. He honestly had nothing against younger girls knowing and wanting sex. He even thought the current minor age limit was, maybe, wrong. Nature said a girl was a woman as early as 10 or 11. Now that didn't mean he was attracted to that. But the logic of it was an argument he'd have with friends.

This however, was a man using these girls. USING them, which, granted, he'd done just before, was technically still doing as she was still under his command, but this felt more malicious. More evil.

He'd used Kayla for his own enjoyment, but she'd ultimately enjoyed it too. He planned to erase her memory of it, make it her reality that she'd never done any of it, but give her the money to change her LIFE. Generational money was what he planned. He thought that might make his transgression at least a bit better.

But this, this was different, in his mind. This was slavery in the worst way. And now he could do something about it. Suddenly the idea of justice hit his mind. He was on a mission of making things right to Kayla, but now he felt a stronger sense of right and wrong.

"What's your name?" Roland said, turning back to the front door.

"Christian," the man said.

Roland suddenly noticed more about the man. He was white, skinny, maybe 150 pounds. He had shaggy light brown hair, a good several days of facial hair on his face. He was wearing basketball shorts, flip flops and a dark green graphic tee, "Old Navy" printed on the front in faded white letters.

"Christian, I find it interesting that not only do you sell drugs, but that you help in the exploitation of young girls."

"Hey man, I just put in a word for Big G, I don't run the girls," he said, putting his hands up slightly.

Roland walked towards him and pushed him into the house suddenly, shutting the door behind him.

"Well, you're about to do a lot more than that," Roland said, to which Christian looked at him slightly curiously. "I order your body to be that of an 18 year old woman's. Hot, sexy, whatever you would want to fuck. The hottest piece of ass you can imagine. You're going to feel pleasure as you change, the thought of sucking cocks, taking them up your pussy and ass, making them knock you up, their babies making your tits leak milk all over, it's going to fill your mind. Your mind is going to change to know that you used to be a man's, that you don't want to be a cock-worshipping slut, but everytime you're around a penis you won't be able to help yourself from being a fuck toy because you're just a slut that wants to give your treasures to anyone that wants them. You're going to do this because I order it."

As Roland said his words, Christian smiled and mouthed, "what the fuck?" because this guy was crazy, until he saw his eyes flash a bright orange, as Roland finished and Christian himself saw his world through a faint orange filter.

While that was weird, the true look of uncertainty hit him as he shrunk to 5'1". He lost more weight, going down to a hair over 100 pounds, his shorts and boxers held up by his male body hit the floor as his structure changed.

Roland slightly doubled over though, his arms crossing over his stomach as intense pain pulsed in his guts and chest. It was like a really bad stomach ache, with someone having punched him, hard, directly in his heart and lungs.

"Oh my god," the unnoticing Christian said, his new, smaller, feminine hands going to his chest as his hair cascaded down to stop just below his shoulders, the facial hair vanishing. His face shifted as he spoke, his voice raising several octaves to a sexy, girly voice.

His hands were holding two new mounds of flesh as they filled and pushed out from his chest against his shirt.

Roland's pain was fading quickly, enough for him to straighten, see the strange being in front of him halfway through transforming into a sex machine, the orange glow he'd seen before now unmistakable.

"Oh, holy fuck!" he exclaimed as he looked first at his new DD cup breasts, then forward to his cock, still there.

His hips swelled slightly as his waist pinched in, creating a perfect hourglass figure, the changes continuing down his legs. The hair retracted, the flesh going from slightly muscular to smooth and soft, the kind that should be spread. Then, his ball sack tightened, his cock shrunk, eliciting even more moaning from Christian as the final vestiges of male began to turn female and sucked up into his body.

"Oh! Oh!" he exclaimed as his testicles sucked into his pelvis.

"Fuck, ooooo-hhhhh shit. God damn! Oh fuck, I can feel my nuts settling." He was rubbing his taut, flat stomach around the level of his now cute belly button as they nestled into place as ovaries, ripe and full of eggs.

"Oh god, it's sucking up into me, geesus. No, I don't want a pusssssss-y," Christian said, finally becoming Kristy, her cock finally vanishing completely, melding into the skin of her crotch and forming into a set of lips, already swollen, ready to be split open and used.

Her sex was horny and wet, not being fully formed for a few seconds before a drop of wetness dribbled down her left inner thigh.

"OH god! I can feel it! I can FEEL myself getting deeper!" she said, dropping down and squatting there in the entryway of the house.

Her hands went to her new hole, a sudden desperation to find her clit, to find her opening, her eyes shooting open in wonder at the new sensation of touching her clit for the first time, her little hips bucking forward, trying to find something, anything, to give her what her body lustfully wanted.

And as the orange glow dissolved into nothing around her, Roland was able to maintain his code yet use his powers. This was justice. And it was only the beginning, the horror on Kristy's face apparent as Roland let down his fly, stepping up to her, her mouth opening automatically and against her will.

"Oh fuck, no no no, I don't want to do this," Kristy said, the order still there in her brain.

"Suck on my cock you fucking whore," Roland said, pushing it fully into her mouth, her eyes looking up at him pleadingly as her body reacted as instructed. "Oh that's a good girl," Roland said, "Yeah your mind might not want the dick, but that hot mouth sure does doesn't it? You're just a fucking slut, newly formed, with new equipment that wants to play huh?"

He was throat fucking her, not taking care at all. it had only been a few minutes, but as Kristy's hands dropped to her new left tit and pussy, wholly submitting to his humping of her face, his balls cut loose their load.

He grabbed her head in his hands and shoved as deep as he could, not giving a damn if this asshole of a person gagged or not as her nose pushed against his stomach.

He wasn't sure if she even swallowed or not. He verbally issued his order to his own cock, then began thrusting again. Using her.

Using her body for whatever he wanted, and right now he wanted to break her in properly.

He pulled out of her mouth and said, "Get up against the mirror and watch your deflowering."

She did and Roland got behind her, finding his power working, she already had her ass out, offering up her new cunt to him.

"No, please. I'm a man," Kristy said, her girlish voice and lust filled tone betraying her. "Change me baa-ack. Oh shit man, I can feel your head rubbing my slit, it's just barely going in. I shouldn't want this, but I like, need it. Ahh-hhhh! Holy fuck!"

Her words were dragged out as he plunged his steel hard cock into her new pussy with zero regard for her hymen, stretching her tight cunt to the point where he had to grab her hips and slam her back until her ass cheeks hit his own pelvis.

Her face was precious, sexy, amazing to watch. Minutes before she was a man who in no way could comprehend the idea of taking a cock, and here she was bent over with a rod pounding ruthlessly into her brand new, achingly wet vagina.

Roland wasted no time. While he did now have another appointment, he wanted to exact sweet justice on this being.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," Kristy said, moaning as the order continued its assault on her mind.

Her female parts were loving what was happening to them. Thoughts of cocks cumming in and on her filled her mind involuntarily, sending more and more heat to her meat sleeve, more and more lube with which to fuck her with. Suddenly she felt Roland double his efforts, looking back over her shoulder at him, the thought and programming really taking over her mind.

"Please, please, cum in me! Oh, fuck, I want to be full!" she said, her hands on the mirror in front of her and to the side of the front door squeezing and flexing with her passion. "I need your cum! I NEED it!"

"You need it?! Cause here it comes slut!" Roland said, reaching forward and grabbing a handful of her hair, pulling her head back into an obscenely submissive pose.

Her tits moved with her fucking, under her shirt, but rubbing still and causing her more pleasure, causing her cunt to tighten on the cock inside her, her inexperienced body not knowing what to do, but loving the sensations anyway.

Then suddenly, Kristy felt the thing inside her stiffen even more, swell more as well, as Roland pushed as far into her as he could, unleashing his cum as deep as possible, right against her cervix.

The sudden heat from the liquid, the slightly different feeling as the second load ever was deposited inside her body, the realization that he could be knocking her up at that very moment reacting with the original order that had started all this: it sent hundreds of images through her newly female mind, and caused her impending orgasm to crash upon her.

Her voice meanwhile had gone from moaning 'oh' with every breath and thrust to a high pitched 'ah' that drew out as she felt him begin to cum, then climbed to a high pitch squeal as the first orgasm originating from her pussy hit her.

Her body's muscles clenched up along with her tunnel, her eyes squeezing shut as her feet stayed apart, her knees shooting open and banging shut over and over. The weight of her body was mostly held up by Roland's hands and cock, a hand still full of her hair, the other on her hip and his shaft inside her still, cum rocketing into her.

They came down together, both breathing hard, the carnal mating between them completed.

***

Roland drove up into the east end of town as that's where Christian, now Kristy, had told him this "Big G" was.

It occurred to him that he had no idea what he was doing. Not really. He'd never done more than a social hit of pot, let alone harder drugs like cocaine or heroin, as Big G was probably dealing. Roland had asked Kristy and she'd offered up Big G as one who did, and he had nothing else to go on.

He was driven forward though by the words of Kayla at his apartment. She'd cut him to his core, her truths pummeling his conscience and threatening to overwhelm him.

Would he feel differently if he hadn't allowed her to yell at him? Would he be blissfully ignorant?

He shook his head slightly as he drove into town proper. It didn't matter. He'd done what he'd done.

"You're a sick fuck Roland," he said, the self-loathing tone dripping off his voice.

He turned on to 5th St and anxiety gripped him. The realization yet again that he had no idea what he'd do when he got there was creeping in on him, and his fear was presenting itself as he gripped the wheel more tightly.

All that were going through his mind were questions:

5th and Gerald? That's not very specific.

What if they had guns?

What if they killed him before he could speak?

What if they didn't have cash?

What would he do with the cash once he had it?

How would he protect himself from all this? There's bound to be blow back.

The answer came in the form of resolve, as he came up to Leonard Ave and crossed it. He saw a girl on the corner, and while she was dressed in slim fitting jeans and a dingy white halter top, these hung off her body in an unhealthy way. He got a glimpse of her made up face from his seat, and her sunken, hopeless eyes didn't look alive, they merely looked at the world.

"Fuck it," Roland said to himself, pulled his 2002 Accord up to the curb and got out.

He walked to her, and it only got worse.

She was white. Had dirty, greasy, sandy blonde hair that was slack and touched her shoulders. She was tan, probably from standing on this corner, or others like it, all summer long. She had on Walmart-cheap, dirty white shoes. And her empty eyes looked at him as he came up to her.

"I order you to do as I say, but still act like yourself. You will not try to alert anyone. You will not try to run away. You will answer all my questions. Understand?"

"Yes master," she answered meekly.

He blinked, and took a breath.

"Why'd you call me that?" he asked her, putting his hands on his hips.

"Mr. H says that's what the people like. And if I don't he hurts me," she said, barely looking up at him.

His temper flared.

"Where's this Mr. H?" Roland asked her.

"He's in that house over there. It's where I'm supposed to take anyone when they want to fuck me," she said, pointing to a house north.

"Take me there," he said, following her as she immediately started walking.

"Hey boy! What the fuck you think you doin'?" he heard from behind him, making Roland turn.

He saw the girl look back and finally there was an emotion on her face, abject fear.

"I order you to do nothing but as I say," Roland stated.

The man, latino, stopped in his tracks. He was thin, with dark skin and about five foot seven. He wore a deep blue tank top, tan cargo shorts with Cortez sneakers and over the calf white socks. He had no hat, but his hair was shorn almost in a buzz, with an attempt at a goatee on his face.

His eyes panicked though, and Roland realized, as his body began to convulse and his eyes bulged, what the problem was.

"You may breathe," Roland said, yet nothing.

Damn it.

"I order you to do normal things but do what I say," he said.

The man inhaled a large breath and hunched over. Roland looked around and swore again.

Damn it!

"Hey! Stop!" and the girl stopped, as she was about to step off the curb. He was going to have to get a system.

"What's your name?" he asked the man.

"Rodrigo Estebar Fernandez," he said.

"Come with me," he said, and walked towards the girl.

"What's your name?" he asked when they got to her.

"Rebecca- something- Symonds master," she said.

"What do you mean 'something'?"

"I'm trying to remember my middle name master, but can't," she said.

Roland's temper flared again, this time in his throat, making him want to scream.

"Rebecca, watch out for traffic, but keep going. Rodrigo, go with her to where Mr. H is."

They looked down the street, a car just passing, and crossed. Roland followed several meters behind them, following them up the sidewalk.

He needed to be specific. He needed to not have to micro-manage. He needed them to still use their brains and think. And in the situation he was walking into, he needed to keep himself and anyone else safe.

They approached a normal looking, two story home and walked up to the door, going right in.

Roland came up and in as he heard Rodrigo start talking.

"Yo, this guy is ordering us around-"

"Shut up!" Roland yelled, slamming the door behind him.

"I order everyone in this house to come down to the living room immediately and put any weapons on this table! I order you to not say anything unless I ask or tell you to. I order you not to do anything besides normal bodily functions unless I tell you to."

The house was a wreck. Unlike how it appeared from the outside, a normal rundown home, the inside was disgusting. Some of the wall's studs shown, there were holes in the floor, paint was peeling, and the smell was god-awful.

Several people were coming down the stairs, as a young black woman, in tan shorts only, came from another room, presumably the kitchen.

On one of the couches was a white girl with black hair, whose head had been bobbing in the lap of an overweight, ugly white man in his middle years. Her emaciated frame immediately stopped and sat up, looking at Roland with those same empty eyes as Rebecca had.

As the men came in, they put all manner of knives and guns on the table between the stained and well-used couches. Roland saw several handguns, ARs, and shotguns.

After a few minutes, with no other sound, Roland looked at the room of people. Three men. Two of which he'd seen and one he hadn't had come from upstairs. He was white, probably mid-20s, and looked like he belonged in a frat back at the college. He'd made it with his pants around his ankles and still had his pastel polo on.

The girls though... Rebecca, the black topless girl from the kitchen, the too thin black haired girl, and three others now.

One was latin, under 5 foot, emaciated as well with unkempt black hair, and was in a t-shirt only.

The second was a tall white girl with a deep auburn head of hair, but was completely naked, covered in bruises from her face to her feet. Her nipples especially were an angry red.

The last was another latina, a hair over 5 foot tall and plump, wearing a ratty black skirt and red, graphic t-shirt.

"I order all of you to answer any question I ask, as best you can," Roland said. "Who's in charge here?"

The ugly man with his dick still out spoke up.

"I am."

"Who are you?"

"My names Horatio, but everyone calls me Mr. H."

"All the girls, go upstairs and find clothes, then wait there," Roland said, and they all moved. "What do you do to the girls?"

"We find em, we promise em we'll take care of em, and then fuck em or shoot em up with heroine. Or we do the heroine first for the stubborn ones. Then we turn tricks on their ass after we break em in good."

"I'm so fucking happy to hear you say that you piece of shit," Roland said, smiling openly. "How much cash do you have in this house? And put your dick away."

"There's about $42,000," he said, stuffing his cock back in his shorts.

"Where's Big G?"

"I don't know. But he comes by every week. He was here two days ago."

Fuck.

"Do you have a way of getting a hold of him?"

"Of course. I got his number."

Smartass.

"Text him that you need to see him right away. Don't say anything else."