#demonic breeding

[hush-writes-stuffing]

Got this ask over on my pregnancy blog, hush-writes-preg, but it seemed more suited for this one. So I'm gonna post the ask here instead.

You'd taken great care to prepare your summoning circle, determined to remain in control and force the demon to do your bidding.  You wanted power, a link to the infernal, but without the risk of losing yourself in the process.

Unfortunately, you bit off a little more than you could chew.

Instead of summoning a lesser demon, a greater demon appeared in your circle and quickly made you its bitch.  Rather than demanding that it share its power with you, you keened and ground yourself down on its massive cock like a shameless harlot, your eyes rolling back in your head when the first few spurts of unholy seed spurted into your womb.  You'd lain on the floor like a cream-filled pastry afterward, your swollen stomach sluggishly leaking fluids out onto the floor from your savage fucking, and the demon had laughed at the sight you made. 

'You'll get what you wanted,' it sneered, leaning over you with its burning eyes.  'But on my terms.'

And your power did increase, to be sure, allowing you to cast spells that you'd never even dreamed of before.  But with it came a hunger unlike anything you'd ever known.  You tried to tell yourself that you were just compensating for the raw power you expended, but as time passed and your waistline continued to expand, you knew that there had to be something more.  Something diabolical.  But without knowing the demon's name or nature, you couldn't be sure.

Months passed.  The holidays loomed on the horizon.  You'd recently realized that you'd gotten pregnant, though you couldn't be sure who the father was since you'd been with several lovers.  But you don't even consider the idea that the demon could possibly be the father, for that would only lead to questions you were afraid to answer.

Halloween came, and you found yourself going through bags of candy at a time.  Thanksgiving rolled around with its plentiful bounty, and you did your best to brush off your family's disbelieving comments about your pregnancy as you dug into your fifth heaping plate of turkey and stuffing.  By the time Christmas arrived, your stomach clamored for food around the clock, and you ordered a family meal for eight to be delivered to your house from the local supermarket because you'd grown too large and ungainly to cook or fetch it yourself.  

As others set off fireworks to celebrate the New Year, you sat in your kitchen at a table piled high with food, gorging yourself with nearly anything you could grab.  Your body, once slim and well-toned, had now grown incredibly soft and corpulent, while your near-term belly hung almost obscenely distended from your middle.  Movement could be seen just under the skin as your demonic spawn wriggled and squirmed, but you barely paid it any mind. 

All thoughts of gaining power had fled in the face of your obsessive need to eat, and all you could think about was the next thing to stuff into your mouth. 

You had no idea that the demon of gluttony watched you in great amusement, pleased to see its offspring growing so well within your ever-expanding body.  It would only be a matter of days before you'd bring its spawn into the world, and you had to be well-fed to give it healthy children, after all.

(A Spooky Season response.)

[hush-writes-preg]

I imagine myself being the town's coming-of-age virgin and being offered to the devil in exchange for the prosperity of the town. Every week i got tied up for the devil to use me for its pleasure until i was with its huge offsprings. It was then that i got offered to the devil every night, letting it feast on my body to its heart's content. Every night, i got fucked till i passed out.

It was that one night when the devil breaks my water. It was tradition that the sacrificer will be tied until the baby is born and the sacrificer are not to give birth without the devil's presence. So, i was in labor for the entire day. The entire town all could see my naked laboring form. The guards were put to see and stop me from pushing.

Finally, the night came. I had never been more glad because i was finally be able to push. But the devil had another plan. It enjoyed tormenting me and hearing me scream as it fucked me over and over again, reminding me how i got knocked up with its huge bastards.

You'd been a little hesitant to be the next fertile 'sacrifice' at first, never having known the touch of a man before, but the devil's enthusiastic attention quickly cured you of that.

Eventually, much to no one's surprise but your own, the devil's potent seed germinated in your womb. Even then it continued to fuck you in front of the entire town on a weekly basis, driving into your quickly-swelling body until coherency melted beneath the onslaught of pleasure and you were little more than a senseless, screaming whore.

Until the night came when its punishing cock broke your water and sent you into labor.

Seemingly pleased by the torrent of fluid that gushed from your body, your devil lover dumped you back onto the altar with a cry of victory. You couldn't figure out why, at least not until the townsfolk approached to tie your outstretched hands to the far corners while they bound your legs together.

You lay there through the following day with your friends, family, and neighbors passing by to watch you twist and scream from the torments of unproductive labor. The devil had decreed that its property could not give birth unless it was present, and no amount of begging and pleading from you would convince them otherwise. Even the guards ignored your cries, coming every now and then to tighten the bonds around your legs so you didn't come free.

Finally, the night came. You nearly cried in relief at the thought of finally being allowed to push, but after slicing open the bonds holding your legs together, the devil promptly mounted you. You wailed as it forced its way into your channel, stuffing your laboring cunt to its limits. "That's right-- scream for me, little human," it laughed in its dark, echoing voice. "Show everyone how much you love being filled with my huge offspring. Perhaps, if you're enthusiastic enough, I'll let you spread your legs and whelp my children before they grow... impatient."

(A belated Spooky Season response.)

[hush-writes-preg]

[recipient he/him, creature they/he. Spooky Season prompt - please feel free to do whatever you want with this idea!] - imagine that i've performed a ritual to summon some supernatural companion; the text of the summoning language isn't clear on who it is and what they do, because the specific word for the kind of creature it is a triple entendre for king, lover, and something i don't recognize. i perform the ritual and nothing happens, seemingly. only i realize as the days go by i'm being hunted by something - or someone. they're cloaked by shadow, bigger and stronger than i can comprehend, and are testing the waters by caressing my skin when they think i'm asleep. as the nights go by i start to reciprocate, curiosity balancing out my raging hard on, but nothing seems to progress past heavy petting. the night his patience runs thin, they eventually wrestle me (willingly) into a breeding press, their throbbing heavy cock filling my cunt like it was tailor made to fit into me. it's in that moment that i realize the third meaning of my visitor's title; Sire. they've found me a suitable lover, fit to rule by his side, and he now claims me as a worthy vessel for his progeny. i take it and beg for more, infernal heat coursing through my veins where we're joined; they grin and laugh, speaking to me for the first time to promise that i'll look like i'm 3 months along by the time he's done with me.

It's been three nights since your failed ritual, and you're still angry at yourself.

What could have possibly gone wrong?  You completed all of the runes, prepared the circle with utmost care, and you know for a fact that your pronunciation was relatively clear.  Sure, you were working with an old grimoire written in an equally old tongue, but you're a scholar, damn it!  You don't just cast magic willy-nilly! 

You aimed to summon a creature as a companion, an intelligent magical being to bolster your power, and its secondary attributes meant little to you as long as it fulfilled its purpose.  The spell mentioned a word which meant both 'king' (which you felt indicated your power over it) and 'lover' (which you interpreted to mean that it would be under your care); there might be other old meanings to the word, but they hardly mattered.  All you needed to do was conjure up the creature and secure its loyalty, and you could have claimed complete success.

But you didn't.

You're so angry at yourself that you barely even notice the shadow at the corner of your vision, and when you finally turn in that direction, it's already gone.

Four days pass, then five.  You keep sensing a shadow that you can never quite focus on, a large and imposing phantom that leaves the skin at the back of your neck prickling, but it never interacts with you.  You can't help but wonder if something did something come through the failed rift from one of the hellish planes. 

On the sixth night, you finally make contact, but not in the way you expect.

You're laying in bed, sorting through your mental library for the possible identity of your intruder with your eyes closed as you breathe steadily.  It takes all of your willpower not to stiffen when something lands against the bedcover, an unexpected weight that slowly, carefully climbs its way up your leg.   The touch pauses at your hip before vanishing, and the sudden loss makes you feel… strange.

On the seventh night, your assailant returns, only this time their fingers grow bolder.  Their hand slides under the sheet to curl over the front of your groin, lightly inspecting the warmth of your mound and teasing between your legs.  You have no idea who this is or what they want, but the attention leaves you wet and throbbing in a way you haven't felt in ages. 

You nearly let your thighs fall apart to welcome them in when the touch disappears yet again, leaving you achingly hard and frustrated beyond measure.

For three more days you receive these nocturnal visitations.  By the next, the very thought of bed leaves slick dripping down the inside of your thighs, and you feel like you just might go mad if whatever-it-is doesn't fucking touch you.  You can't jerk off when your stalker is always around, watching you, but you can't go on feeling like you're about to explode from lust, either.

So that night you forgo your usual sleepwear and crawl under your covers naked as the day you were born.

There's nothing subtle or careful about the invisible touch this time as it boldly slides up your leg and almost possessively between your legs.  You cry out, rocking up against those unseen fingers as they hook into your cunt and flick purposefully over your raging hard-on.  A few beams of moonlight flood the room from your bedroom window but fail to reveal the identity of your shadowy intruder, though you find it very hard to care when they're making your eyes roll back in your head. 

But before you can tumble over the edge of your first climax, someone is on top of you.

They're big and impossibly strong, their weight easily pinning you in place as they yank your legs up and back, exposing your cunt to view.  You flail at them, instinctively searching for something to latch on to, but your hands pass through their shadowed form like so much air.  Something hard and thick rubs purposefully over your entrance, the blunt head dragging against your sopping, lust-swollen lips and your own straining arousal, before plunging inside of you in one purposeful thrust.

You cry out, feeling them fill you up like their cock was custom-made for your body.  You're babbling, begging to see them, for more, for them to take you harder--

Sire.

The word appears unbidden in your head, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place.  Oh, how badly you'd interpreted that spell!  You'd summoned yourself not an infernal servant but a mate, and a noble one at that.  Fucking them would seal the binds that link you together and leave you as their lover, co-ruler over whatever plane they call home, and provide them with a fertile womb to bear their heirs.  Namely, yours.

You shouldn't want any of that, but in this moment, you do.

"Please," you cry out, your hips bucking up to meet theirs with wild abandon.  "Oh please, please take me!  Please make me yours!  Give me your seed and breed me!"

A sudden rush of infernal heat fills your cunt as they give you what you want.  Abyssal magic winds you in its clutches and courses through your veins as your ill-begotten spell finds its inevitable conclusion, and reality itself seems to shatter as you're yanked into one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

In that moment, their shadowy cloak falls away.

Dark, smokey laughter fills your mind as they lean closer, glowing blue eyes fixed on your face as moonlight catches on sharp fangs, long pointed ears, and the curves of majestically clawed wings.  The sound curls around your consciousness like a sensual caress and leaves you shivering.  "Oh, I shall," the incubus purrs, his full lips curling in a wicked smile.  "By the time I'm done with you, you'll already look about three months along with my first broad.  The first of many, hmm, my sweet?"

(A Spooky Season response.)

[hush-writes-preg]

another semi-spooky request: from the POV of a monster (demon, vampire, something mostly humanoid ideally), who is reluctant to do anything that might hurt or endanger their partner. they’re partner, on the other hand, is insanely horny, wants nothing more than to be hugely pregnant, and doing everything they can to reassure the monster that it’s okay, relax, they want this, they aren’t scared…

they/them pronouns preferred

As a demon, I'm used to having the upper hand.  To being in control.  To having mortals and lesser demons alike cowering at my feet and obeying my every command.

But you've turned out to be another kind of mortal entirely.

"Please," you beg yet again, grinding your bottom against my cock in increasingly desperate need.  "How many times do I have to tell you-- I don't care."

The size difference between us is almost comical, for my height and sheer brawn leave you looking too small for this sort of play, and you can barely wrap both your hands around my erect shaft, but that hasn't stopped you from lubing up and trying to take it anyway.  My balls lay heavy with the seed you so fiercely want jetting into your fertile body, but you're not made to carry my large, active young. 

"I don't want to hurt you," I whisper, my clawed, red fingers sliding over your much-too-fragile human skin.  "What you're asking could damage you beyond repair."

But instead of answering, you pull one of my hands over to rest against your belly.  "I want you inside of me, right here," you murmur, the burning flames of my eyes reflecting in your own.  "I want you to ruin me for anyone else.  And I want to carry your babies."  You lean close, curling your fingers around my horns as you rock back yet again.  "Fuck me and breed me, my beloved fiend.  I can take it."

I might be able to hold my own against the king of Hell itself, but I cannot resist you.

So with a little more lube and a lot more patience, you finally manage to seat yourself, my cock bulging prominently from your otherwise flat stomach.  I am enraptured by the look of pure bliss on your face and the feel of your tight sheath clenching around my shaft.  And I know without a doubt that I will be fucking you full of my seed tonight, just like you want me to.

(A Spooky Season response.)