How NOT to Summon a Demon
Lesson Six: One can never be too cautious when dealing with hellspawn. Particularly when whatever task one has brought them into this world to perform is completed, and it is time to conclude one's dealings with them. Even when everything has been amicable with them thus far, one must--must!--not let one's guard down for a single instant. Doing so might well be the last mistake one will ever make.
Never let it be said that I don't eventually learn from my mistakes. I'll be the first to admit I'm not the smartest creature in creation--any creation--but happily, I am more quick-witted than the average demon. Blame my unorthodox upbringing, having more of the tutelage of my mother or my mother's spirit after Father destroyed her, or else more of the abuse my father could apply than the demonic establishment normally allows, with the usual routine of throwing us into boarding schools to get dragged into infernal society as soon as we're old enough to stop soiling ourselves; or else blame our long lives for my peers' dull-wittedness, how we're not forced to pack lifetimes of learning into a paltry few dozen years or so as mortals are...and thus normally don't do as well in our education as I had. Odd as it is for me to think of myself as a prodigy among demons, I suppose I am.
At any rate, I couldn't help snorting at my earlier foolishness, when we rode in comfort through the snowy streets of the town. Why slog through all that ice, with wonderful heated magically-propelled carriages like this one to take us anywhere we wished to go? Even if the driver, who sat in his own separate cabin up front, allowing us some privacy, would be surprised to see that I had pulled the grate from the little firepit set into the floor and had pressed my hooves (what he would see as feet, of course, thanks to the glamour I wore, again impersonating a more normal bunny rabbit) into the red-hot coals. Possibly some magic was also at work there, since heat came up, but no more than a few wisps of coal-smoke rose to my nostrils.
The driver let us off at Logan's, the same tavern where I had met Martrena, and I filled his palm with conjured gold, waving away his gratitude at my generosity. It was easy to be charitable, when I could literally wave a paw and produce more money. Ignoring the sizzling sound and the steam that came up as my hooves crunched into the snow, I led the way briskly to the door, wanting to get back out of this frigid climate--but stopped just before my knuckles could rap on the wooden doorframe. "I just realized...we're sure to be asked. What is your name?"
Blinking beneath the veils I'd wrapped her in, letting little besides her luxuriously-long tail peek out, the white vixen gave what I could barely recognize as a grimace before answering, "Claude."
"Claude," I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Claude? Claude. Not much seductive mystery in that one, is there? That'll never do for a vixen... Very well, you're now Claudia. Claudia, Lady of the Clouds. That should do nicely, I think. Do you agree?"
Smiling this time, she nodded, and I knocked on the door to be ushered inside.
We followed the tavern keeper's directions to a private room off the main floor, quite a large and sumptuous room, as it turned out; Martrena had hired the best Logan's had to offer. A fireplace, piled high with burning logs, made it warm enough even I was only slightly chilled. Dominating one section, in lieu of a bed, was a set of mattresses that took up about half the floor, with Royal-blue dyed sheets and piled high with expensive silk cushions, an inviting space practically begging someone to fill it with orgies. Wines--two or three kinds, it looked like--rested in chilled containers atop nearby tables, as did various meats and cheeses on pewter platters, and a truly decadent tub, amply large enough for a dozen furs to bathe in it (though now empty, by no surprise, as few would want to take a bath in a pub in the wintertime unless the water was very hot indeed) took up most of the remaining area.
That was where Martrena was found, sitting on the edge of that tub; I clearly heard the gasp of recognition and desire from my veiled companion. Which was followed by another noise from the chestnut mare, who immediately leapt up from her perch and clopped toward us. "Thank the gods...I thought I'd burst waiting for you to get here." She rubbed her crotch, which was covered by heavy leather pants, and bound up with hemp cords besides, all the lizard-hide stretched taut by...rather formidable, but cramped shapes. The lady, who danced around almost frantically, looked pained by more than just the improvised fetters.
Chuckling, I doffed my outerwear, revealing a slightly more weather-ready flannel outfit; now that I wasn't trying to impress anyone, I'd been quick to borrow something warm from Claude's--err, Claudia's--wardrobe. "It hasn't been that long, I was summoned from your harem this morning, and it's barely nightfall--"
Martrena, still standing--bouncing in place, almost--crossed her legs. "I haven't been since last night," she protested, placing emphasis on the 'been'.
"Been? Oh!" At once understanding, I shook my head. "You didn't need to hold *that* in, only the semen I filled you with! There was no need to hold your water, for the change I made in you to be permanent! Ugh, you must be ready to explode. We'd better get that off--" I started forward, then stopped. "On second thought. Claudia, dear one? Perhaps you'd like to...um..." I giggled. "Help Lady Martrena with her problem?"
Claudia smiled at me, radiantly, I could tell even through the silk veils. She quickly removed them, and her coat's hood, letting her silver hair cascade down to her tail; I heard a different gasp this time, from the equine, and knew I'd crafted the vixen well. She strode forward, then gracefully knelt before the taller femme. "Shall I, Mistress? By your leave?"
After a swift nod, Martrena groaned as Claudia's small, deft paws undid the knots--then groaned again, in relief, when the stitches at the front of her leathers split, the pants ripped open, and out came a massive shape. Ebony, the swollen tip of it almost a purple color as it pressed forward brazenly--pressed forward a good two feet at least, for all that the member it was attached to was flaccid, still--it was a shaft any stallion would be proud to own, too thick for my paws to curl all the way around, the veins wreathing it already throbbing even though it wasn't filled with blood. Knocked sprawling below it by its emergence, Claudia was thoroughly anointed by the clear stream of urine that sprayed from it, while Martrena whickered in blissful release.
And then whinnied in embarrassment and re-aimed herself, shooting the flow into the washbasin, the sound of it hitting the metal sides of the tub loud in the quiet room. "Sorry--couldn't hold it anymore--sorry," she apologized lamely.
"That's all right, Mistress, think nothing of it," the vixen told her as she got up, shivering slightly in what my trained senses soon recognized as not embarrassment or even cold, but lust. "You may use me in whatever way you wish. I am yours--if you will have me. Please forgive me," she bowed as she undid the fasteners of her coat, laying it across the side of the tub, then began to remove the rest of her clothing as well, "it wouldn't do to drip everywhere on our hosts' floors."
Without even seeming to notice the vulpine's modest words, while she finally finished peeing--it was lucky Martrena hadn't burst her bladder, a gallon of fluid must have left her, by now!--she watched as Claudia undressed. I did, as well, getting a vicarious thrill from watching, knowing that I had done well in building her new form. From a slightly portly, plain male fox, I'd formed a very fetching snow-white vixen, only about five feet tall but quite strong (my own bias there, as I've never been fond of the slender, willowy type that look as if you'd break them if you tried sex with them, preferring some muscle on my partners, but it ought to serve her well with an equine for a prospective mistress) but with ample flesh atop the corded muscle to give her a lush, voluptuous appearance, her hips supple and wide enough for birthing any litter, her rump nicely rounded and dimpled, her abdomen flat, her breasts firm and proud, not sagging a bit, larger than my own (even if she only had the one pair to deal with), her nipples red enough to look rouged as they immediately sprang erect in the air.
But she was more than a vixen, of course, even if proof of that was still hidden. Or nearly so, as there was no possibility of completely concealing that part of her nature. She wore a pair of oiled black thigh-length leather shorts whose crotch- and rump-area looked to be covered by a shiny steel chainmail bikini, but those metal links were really part of the garment, joined to the leather by heavy steel rivets. I hadn't asked why the former Claude had such a thing in her wardrobe, but it proved very useful, once we both had magically altered it to fit. Below that, drawing the shorts taut across her, was a rather formidable-looking protuberance, or rather pattern of them, an oblong one that pushed the chainmail a few inches forward, and two rounder ones below it; there could be no doubt in any viewer's mind that the shapes were a canine sheath and a set of testicles, if ones on a far grander scale than normal. Larger than one might normally see on a horse, in fact.
Claudia didn't remove those shorts, leaving the heavy padlock at her right hip closed, though the key dangling from a silver chain around her neck proved that she could if she wished. Glancing my way, Martrena asked, "Why...all that?"
Lounging on the mattresses nearby, I churred lazily, "Her new gifts are a bit less...controlled than yours. Her choice, and mine, though I confess I modeled that part of her after a pet of mine, back home. Take off that, or anything else without some iron in it--cold iron interferes with demon magic, as you probably know--and she'll be perpetually erect, never able to go soft no matter how she's used; put it on, and she'll stay in her sheath until the next time. We've modified those shorts so she'll be able to open slits to let her...avoid the sort of trouble you had," I chuckled. "It's not perfect. Tease her enough, that chainmail can be burst. But it keeps her fairly well under wraps. If you keep her, you can devise other and better ways to do the same thing," I concluded. "Assuming you don't want an always-horny vixen with a phallus similar in size to your new one loose in your harem, at least."
Martrena looked down at herself, then toward Claudia's nether regions, taking in this first view of her own new maleness far better than I might've expected; perhaps being a sorceress herself, and accustomed to magical changes, helped. Or she'd dreamed of being partly stallion for long enough that she could take this all in stride. The mare murmured, "Similar to mine...we'll have to see that...oh, Goddess above!" she swore. "I can't believe I need to go again, already..."
"Oo!" Claudia yipped, looking up at Martrena brightly. "May I help, Mistress?"
Taken aback, the horse gaped at her. "Help?"
Pointing to her fur, which still dripped in places with her earlier dousing, Claudia explained, "I already wear some of your blessing, Mistress. I'd be most pleased to help further relieve you. And wear the rest proudly." At a mute nod from Martrena (who plainly wasn't sure what to think or say), the fox stepped delicately into the tub, kneeling there, then, with a quiet, "By your leave, Mistress," grasped the equine's thick length, deliberately aiming it at herself, and began stroking along it, starting at the base and rubbing forward to the tip. I would've thought the action more likely to create an erection than urination, but Martrena evidently really needed to pee again, for soon more of the pungent fluid was spraying the vixen's fur...and several gulps of it being swallowed, as Claudia treated this yellowish rain as if it was the most wondrous thing imaginable, boldly putting her open muzzle right in the path of some of the jets.
At a quiet tap on the door, I stood, turning from the scene with some gratitude to answer. I confess these 'golden showers' have never held much appeal to me; I understand the liking, in some ways, and I'll admit I've both given and received such things with partners who did love them, but my desires lay in other areas. And I preferred to have other fluids bathing me than urine.
As I'd expected--having made a comment to the barkeep that I'd like some companionship brought to me, so Martrena and Claudia could get acquainted without my interference--behind the door was something feminine and lovely. But in quantities I had not expected. Grinning at them, I churred, "I must remember to give Logan a very large tip," as I led the foursome into the room. Mice they were, each a head shorter than I was, young, from the looks of them just a few years into adulthood, all of them blonde, blue-eyed, grey-furred and delectable, so alike in appearance I could tell already I'd have trouble telling them apart. Sisters at the very least, quadruplets most likely; multiple births were even more common among mice than among lapins.
They all smiled at me as they entered, each one looking proud and happy to be here, the third one glancing down at my crotch, then coloring scarlet about the ears. An odd fact about murines, at least all the ones I ever met; most, if not all, seemed to be what in later centuries would be called 'size queens', enamored of those...with endowments like mine, actually. Marriages between bulls or stallions and mouse-femmes were fairly common. At least some thought it odd. Having similar likes myself, I found it quite understandable, and having seen the cocks of some mice--who, if one was grown somehow to bull-size, would often make those bulls look puny--it was little wonder they sought something large in their lives.
Seating them on a mattress with me, I took off the rest of my clothing, revealing the illusion I wore--white fur instead of my crimson, no horns, large rabbit-feet instead of my true hooves, but otherwise identical to my lapine avatar--though I think they were more interested in what soon dangled between my knees, at least before it began filling with blood, growing erect and throbbing. "Greetings," I churred, drawing their gaze back to my face. "I suspect you've been told, but my name is Chessia. And you are?" I invited, carelessly lounging again, peering at them all past the rising spire of my cock.
"Missy," said the first, who couldn't take her eyes off that prominent feature of mine, her dainty tongue carressing her lips.
"Mitzy," was the second, the one who had been third in the room, I noticed, and the first to glance at my crotch; I was already considering a reward for that boldness.
"Millie," was the third.
Sensing a pattern, before the fourth could speak, I pointed to her, and suggested, "Minnie?"
Frowning, she shook her head. "Margaret."
I laughed gently, and grinned at her. "I knew it had to be an 'M' name. Your parents must have had trouble coming up with names for you four."
They all nodded, and Mitzy offered, "Daddy started running out, I think. Of names, I mean, by the time we were born. You should hear our younger brothers' names." They all giggled at that.
"Large family," I murmured, nodding my approval. I scooted up, to look at them more easily, without my phallus getting in the way. "Makes me want to visit a mouse village sometimes, and avail myself of...family hospitality."
They laughed, until Mitzy, apparently noticing that my body had a top half for the first time, pointed at me. "Look, they told the truth! She does have four tits!"
It was my turn to laugh, while they all stared at my chest. "Do you have..." Mitzy again, hesitantly, "...milk?"
Nodding, I replied, "I do. Why, would you like to--" That was as far as I got, before they were on me, about bowling me over while I laughed at their enthusiasm. Each of my nipples found itself engulfed in a soft mouth, and a chorus of mouse-ish chirrs sounded as they tasted the sweetness of my milk, each greedy rodent obviously enjoying this family suckling.
Turning my head, I looked over at Martrena and Claudia, grinning when I saw they had naturally gone to the next obvious step, the horse having grown erect--'grown' being the proper word, of course, that shaft now nearly four feet in length, and twitching with desire--and instead of urine, spurt after spurt of precum was now decorating the fox's white fur, well on its way to covering her. That kind of 'shower,' I definitely favored. As did Claudia, apparently, who two-paw-stroked that huge cannon with abandon, nuzzling it while purring vixenishly, eyes closed as more gobs of pre glazed her fur.
"Why don't you use your tongue, Claudia?" I called. "I think Martrena would love it. Show all you can do."
The vulpine nodded, and effortlessly elongated her tongue, winding it around and around the object of her affections, the equine member soon looking like some parody of a peppermint stick, bearing a spiral of pink against its black. Giving a lurch as if she could hardly stay on her hooves, Martrena whinnied raggedly, a particularly large dollop of preseed splattering Claudia's shoulders and chest. "You gave her that, too?" the mare gasped.
"I try not to miss a trick," I churred, giggling. "You'd be surprised--" I giggled again as the horse gasped even more loudly, for Claudia had opened her mouth wide, and jammed that length right down her gullet, swallowing as hard as she could, as fast as she could, intent on sheathing as much of it as her body could manage, obviously. Claudia would never be as adept at cocksucking as the youngest succubus, but I'd done all I could with her skills. For all her submission, she was definitely the one in control, now, and Martrena would soon be depositing the contents of the magnificent balls I'd given her in the fox's belly. "You *are* being surprised by what she can do, I see. Never mind," I chuckled.
Just as well, for my mouse guests, apparently having drunk their fill, had released my breasts and wanted my attention again. One of them--Mitzy, I believed, though I was already having difficulty telling which was which--stroked my own phallus, not as overgrown as Martrena's (yet), but impressive in its own right. "Too bad there's only one of these, and so many of us," she teased, giggling, squeezing my bell between her fingers. "I hope you can keep up with all of us."
They all laughed then, but I merely grinned, slyly, toothily. "Oh, I can keep up. And if you think there's not enough of me to go around..." They gaped at me as my sheath, where it clung to my shaft's base, suddenly swelled, looking as if it should split, and a second cock, which started off small but quickly became equal in size to the first, pushed its way outward below the first one. My testes, too, suddenly seemed to multiply, a second pair that had been hidden inside me dropping down into my sac, and quickly swelling to match the first, filling with semen in the process. "...I'll just have to push myself, won't I?"
Mitzy (perhaps), her mouth forming a little 'O' of amazement, nonetheless filled both her paws with a lapine cock apiece, stroking them up and down and beginning to prize a generous flow of precum from me. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" she trilled, licking at my pre--then shuddering, eyes closing as the taste slammed into her senses.
"You have no idea," I chuckled as I spread my arms wide and pounced on them all, knocking them to the mattress below me, all four giggling girlishly. "Let's have some fun, and see what else comes up," I went on as I sought lodging for both my shafts in Mitzy's sex and tailhole, pushing both slippery bells at the orifices that would soon contain them, while my short tail twitched above my hindquarters, releasing more of my pheromone-scent into the room.
--TO BE CONCLUDED
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Chessia's Home Away From Hell
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