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Existence as a demon wasn't mindless. Not even close. If anything I'd say my mind was more active than it ever had been as a mortal, supercharged with fel. It was disorienting at times; I could focus on several things at once and give them all equal attention, although I tended to be more easily distracted. Still, it didn't stop me from learning.

One of the first things I learned was that "male" and "female" didn't refer to sex like they did with mortals. All of us were largely amorphous, our bodies rearranging themselves or snapping into new, different configurations, should we not devote a certain amount of thought to staying in our current forms. Rather, male and female were, for the lack of a better word, _approaches._A male lust demon did indeed try to take his lovers by force, either physical or mental. They were, like the order had told me, raw and primal sexuality and passion. Meanwhile, I - and my corruptor - were apparently "female", preferring seduction and mental manipulation to get our partners to take the initiative, submitting willingly. Those particular terms were just what mortals tended to use; there were better and more descriptive ones, but there are no characters that represent those sounds in mortal languages.

The second thing I learned was that we aren't evil. Yes, I am aware of how false that sounds when coming from a demon, but I truly believe it. Of course, the Order and other mortals will generally dismiss anything we say as lies aimed towards corrupting them as well; a convenient strategy for not confronting uncomfortable truths. "All a demon wants is to corrupt you, and anything it says is lies towards that end," as they said. After all, what I write in this journal could simply be an attempt to get you to seek me out and submit to my advances, rather than simply telling a story, because storytelling was exclusive to mortals, claimed the mortals.

The third was that resisting impulses was difficult, if not outright impossible. Yes, I could reason, but the second a twinge of arousal was felt, for any reason, it was like gravity itself pulling on every fiber of your being. To give you an explicit example, over writing this single page I've had to stop several times to masturbate, typically by sucking my own cock until I'm gulping down my thick seed in delicious mouthfuls, helpless in the throes of sexual abandon and release, only further inflaming my passions until I'm fully spent. Our recovery time is extremely short as well, which does_admittedly make intellectual pursuits hard. My partner has told me of demon monks in the distant corners of earth who have successfully channeled their passions into other things, like slaking intellectual lusts, something the Order would never admit to being possible, but I saw no reason not to believe it. After all, I _am writing something while my partner is using my body like a vulpine breeding toy.

So, we can conclude that you - whoever found this journal - are at least willing to entertain the thought of demons having a life of the mind. Otherwise you'd have burned it a long time ago. There is no magic preventing you from doing so. With these stories, I hope to demonstrate that we're not what various groups say we are.

I laid the pen down. My demonic mate seemed somehow excited by the fact that I still wrote, but then again, he was excited by everything. Granted, so was I. The fact that he was unusually turned on by something meant that I was unusually turned on as well; arousal begets arousal. This tended to lead to us taking turns mounting each other until we were completely exhausted, not getting much done. He finished inside me with a shuddering climax, most of his seed spilling out despite the knot because of how full I already was. The warm, gooey sensation of it leaking out of me might've been my favorite part of our matings, although it was hard to say for sure.

I managed to resist the urge to turn the tables for the dozenth time in a row. Yes, our recovery times were short, but there were certain physical limits; at some point, when utterly drained, resisting the urges became tolerable. The body could only climax so many times in a short period of time. But there was more to it, this time; I was feeling some sort of deeper hunger. An itch somewhere inside me that wouldn't go away no matter how many times my mate fucked me.

"Oh, yes. You'll have to seduce mortals occasionally," he explained, panting where he laid in a puddle of our combined fluids. His foxfires resting on various rocks in the cave, mirroring his exhaustion.

I told him I didn't know how.

"Well, your body knows. All you have to do is find someone with unsatisfied desires," he explained, and then paused to bend down and clean up the remains of his cum off his retreating, softening cock. "The men are usually the easiest and I think they're more enjoyable, at that. Or perhaps _entertaining_is a better word; you whisper a few words in their ears and present yourself, and they're usually terribly eager to do all the work for you," he continued. "They just can't resist a warm hole, you know."

"Even if I'm..." I began, questioning him.

"Even if you're 'male', yes. Though it might take more coaxing, like I did to you - oh, just thinking of your adorable innocent expression, totally lost in lust..." he purred, his cock twitching visibly, even though he hadn't recovered quite enough to grow erect again.

"The fel?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm sure you remember, unless I fucked all those memories out of your cute little head," he smiled. "You could always _present_yourself as a female; almost all of them will eagerly breed you without a care for the consequences," he went on. _Present_was one of those words with a different meaning for us; it referred to changing your form in order to seduce someone.

Somehow, that was the one hangup I still had. My mate assured me it'd fade with time as I became more used to my oddly amorphous body. "He" - I'm using male pronouns as that was his preferred form, most of the time - had been a woman as a mortal, but found the added perversion of male on male sex too alluring to resist. Even though there was no functional difference or any real moral one, he'd told me, getting mortals to break their own taboos felt better for us. His favorite was presenting as a feral and slowly influencing men with the fel until they were begging for him to mount them, since that went against three typical taboos: coupling with animals, homosexuality, and of course, being the submissive partner as a man.

It was a very strange world I'd been reborn into. Explaining all the intricacies would take more pages than there are trees in the forest. Effectively, we "fed" by corrupting mortals, and the more of their own rules we managed to coax them into breaking, the more satisfying it was. We didn't need_to, but for almost all demons, the urges were too strong to resist for any length of time. Mating with other demons only provided temporary satisfaction, as I was intimately familiar with at this point. Regardless of how many times I spilled my seed with my mate - his name was _Lethe, the thoughts are difficult to keep track of - I would recover in minutes. Mortals provided more lasting fulfilment.

Lethe had already claimed this area as his own, and from here he preyed on Order recruits and traders, anyone who came through alone. Nobody suspected his presence this close to the stronghold, which is why he'd managed to keep it up for so long. It did, however, mean that I had to seek other hunting grounds. Of course, I'd be back, possibly with someone new for us to have fun with.

So I left the cave for the first time in... days, I believe. There had been a blizzard while I'd been lost in Lethe's mesmerizing presence, and the winds were icy cold. I couldn't well leave tracks to the cave, but my wings weren't developed enough to carry me through the skies yet. I flapped them experimentally, trying to get used to the new limbs, completely unlike anything i'd had before. They wouldn't carry me, but before the icy wind numbed and slowed my muscles, I might be able to...

I took a few steps back and took a running start, jumping just before my feet touched the snow. It was a bizarre sensation, like I was suspended in air for a moment, and then gravity reasserted itself. I went crashing down into the snow perhaps half a dozen meters from the cave. It should be far enough for nobody to make the connection. Perhaps. I didn't have much choice but to proceed. I did that run, jump, "fly" routine down the side of the mountain, likely looking utterly ridiculous. It was exhilarating, but the extreme cold did wonders sapping all the joy right out of me. It'd likely be a little warmer down in the forests; from what I could see from up here, there was no snow there, and the temperature would probably be above freezing. Just as good; all my clothes had been completely ruined by Lethe's affections. Other than my fur, I was naked.

While I continued my dance down the slopes, I had some time to think. Focusing on two things at once like that was still alien, but it didn't feel like a distraction as it had as a mortal. Rather, I was fully focusing on both my downward descent and the thoughts. My priority would have to be cleaning myself, first of all; while the dirtiness had worked for me, I had effectively been forced to get close to Lethe despite my initial repulsion. Out in the open, anyone who saw me like this would likely recoil in fear and disgust. I remembered there was a spring in the forest. It'd likely be cold, but perhaps I could handle it, or heat it up with the fel. If not, I'd have to think of something different. Priority two was getting clothes, ideally a robe that hid my horns and wings as well as could be done. I might have to tie the wings to my body to keep them from bulging out, but there wasn't much I could do about the horns except cover them.

Perhaps you wonder, dear reader, why I wouldn't simply present myself without wings or horns, given our amorphous bodies? A good question. It took even the most ancient of demons and enormous amount of willpower to hide away our inherent characteristics; the wings, the horns, whatever emotion it was that controlled us. I was nowhere near that point yet, and all I could change were the "arbitrary" parts of my body, and even those, just barely. I couldn't grow out my fur to keep myself warm, nothing of the sort. Lethe had offered to teach me how to change my gender, at least, but I hadn't felt comfortable enough with that. Even demons have some inhibitions left.

Priority three, which felt refreshingly distant after almost three days non-stop sexuality would be finding a "victim". You have to understand, dear reader, that I only sought such contact out of necessity. I had no particular desire to- well, perhaps I did, but I had no choice in the matter, no more than you have a choice of eating or drinking. Not at that point.

By the time I reached the edge of the snow, I couldn't move my wings anymore, even with the infernal fires raging inside of me. There was nobody around, which wasn't surprising; I was still far from any towns I knew of. It was barely warmer down there, but I knew that I at least wouldn't become the world's first demonic ice sculpture anytime soon.

The woods seemed different, viewed through my newfound eyes. Lethe had told me that my mind could only truly appreciate living, warm and sexual beauty from now on, but it wasn't entirely correct. Yes, the trees seemed grey and lifeless, but they still had aesthetically pleasing forms, even if not all of it was registering in my thoughts. There was still a certain majesty to natural wonders. I found my bearings and made my way towards where I remembered the spring being, along the very bottom of the cliffside, carrying water down from the high mountains through channels deep within the rock.

I only understood what he had meant when I saw a fox. A regular red fox, not a humanoid one like myself, slinking between the trees a fair distance away from me. At least, I thought it was a normal fox, despite having a brilliant firey red appearance to me. I watched it move, every muscle just barely defined under a luxurious coat as it hunted, ears swiveling, one keeping track on me and the other on possible prey. I could smell it too; a wild, feral, mossy scent that threatened to drive me wild. It was too far away for me to affect, and so all I could was watch, as if hypnotized. That fox, animal as it was, was the first mortal thing I'd seen since I met Lethe. If this was how demons saw all of them, I knew it'd be impossible to resist.

But the fox disappeared into the undergrowth and abrubtly ended my reverie. I found the spring soon enough after that, and it looked just like it always had; a small hole carved into the cliff by thousands of years of glaciers melting, flowing, as it seemed, from the mountain itself. I stepped in, and my paws instantly went numb. The water was absolutely freezing, as anyone but me could've guessed. I let out a gasp, and suddenly a ball of foxfire appeared before me. I instinctively recognized it as my own, sparked into existence from the cool night air by the shock of cold. It felt like part of myself, but much hotter, like a small star suspended in the darkness. A pure manifestation of fel.

I lowered it towards the surface of the water, watching in fascination as the spring reacted to it, bubbling, heating, evaporating as if trying to get away from the light. I couldn't feel the foxfire's heat directly, but I could feel it spreading through the water as normal warmth. I knew, somehow, that mortals who drank from it in any of the following days would experience sudden uncontrollable lusts, and the thought sparked that everpresent lust within me. Before I even realized it, I was stroking my growing vulpine maleness, wet with the springwater, huffing and moaning. I wanted to suck myself again, but the idea of tainting the spring with my seed was even more delicious.

I submerged the fireball into the fountain entirely. As expected, it didn't go out, but rather it evaporated water around itself so quickly that it formed a bubble of air. It'd still take ages to actually make the water hot in this kind of weather, but it did make it tolerable, and so I started grooming myself. I wanted to masturbate, but the foxfire was draining my own energy, and I had to actually finish cleaning myself before I let it go out. This was the unpleasant downside of indulging in every single sexual urge; my fur was tangled, matted, absolutely filthy with cum and plain dirt, and I must've spent an hour gradually getting it all to loosen up, running my claws and fingers though every inch of fur. At the end of it I was too exhausted to do much, my flame flickering, threatening to succumb to the water surrounding it. I reached out to touch it, and it disappeared into me, what energy remained quickly reabsorbed back inside my body. When I attempted to create another, it failed to manifest. It seemed that I was drained for the moment.

The spring was still lukewarm, however. There wasn't much meltwater coming from the mountains given the cold, only a small stream, so it would take some time to become freezing again. I sat down on the edge of the basin, licking my lips as my arousal reasserted itself. I looked down at my maleness, and for a brief moment I just admired it as it grew, once again pushing out of its warm sheath. The transformation hadn't really affected it much, beyond making it grow to an impressive eight or nine inches of wonderful stiffness. I squeezed myself at the very base and shuddered, moaning quietly as it twitched in my warm grasp, clear precum dripping into the water. Not that it wasn't plenty contaminated already, with how long I'd spent cleaning myself, but the idea of someone getting a drink and finding themselves halfway transformed into another lusty demon excited me, so I kept stroking myself, imagining it happening. Perhaps a wolf would come, and then drink more and more of the tainted water, until so overcome with lust that they'd paw themselves to completion, adding their cum to the mix.

It was nothing but mindless self-indulgence, really. Infusing the water with demonic essence wouldn't really satisfy me for more than a few minutes, but I felt that I've earned some relief after working so hard to get myself clean, and so I kept stroking, biting my paw to keep from moaning too loudly. All too soon I felt my heavy balls pulling tight against my body, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I imagined knotting some helpless villager, pumping them full of thick, warm cum, full again and again until they reached the point of no return and turned into a demon too.

My body tensed and I shivered, thrusting my length into my paw and clamping down behind my knot, stimulating a tie. That was all it took, and I watched, hungrily, as my thick cream shot out in heavy spurts, each accompanied by a spasm of pleasure. It splashed into the formerly clean spring, clumping up at the bottom, but I knew it'd dissolve soon enough, hopefully setting off a chain reaction of males having a drink and befouling it further in their blind arousal. Even after my orgasm waned, I made sure to stroke out every last drop, cleaning my member before letting it soften.

At that point the water was starting to get cold again, so I stood up and stepped out. At least my upper body was almost dry again. Suddenly, I heard a roar behind me, so loud it hurt my ears, causing them to instinctively flatten against my skull. I knew what it was before I even turned around, somehow. A rage demon.

A small aside, reader. One of the things mortals don't understand - or at least the order didn't - was that demons did not work together. Not for the most part. Pride and sloth hated each other; one found that the other was useless, passive, inactive even, and vice versa sloth thought pride was wasted effort, focusing on an emotion that some were entirely immune to. I'll tell you more about the various types later. For right now, suffice to say that rage had no love for my kind; we only sought to corrupt, rage sought to utterly annihilate everything. Our pursuit was therefore deemed pointless in the grander scheme of things, even counterproductive, as those madly in love and lust wanted to protect their fixations. Rage demons had no attachments, not even to each other, but they particularly disliked us.

I can't say that the feeling wasn't mutual. Destroying everything was mindless, hopeless even. There was plenty of beauty in the world worth preserving, plenty of positive experiences to seek. I had always thought along these lines, even before my corruption, but if anything, they had only intensified. I had no desire to destroy anything but inhibitions. But getting back to the encounter...

The creature behind me was a bear. Or it had been. I couldn't tell if it had been humanoid or feral, rage corruption utterly mangled form until it was barely recognizable, focused only on destruction. It was vaguely bear-shaped_at this point; shadowy, shimmering, impossible to focus on except for two eyes glowing green with fel in its most destructive form, true demonfire. Not gentle like our lights, but ablaze with hell. The lust demon I had seen on the mountains with the order, that one had used the destructive aspect of fel as well, but it was _nothing compared to this. It threatened to tear apart my very thoughts, and only my own corrupted nature allowed me to resist it.

I knew there'd be no talking. No cunning way to seduce it. Rage burned away all other emotions, except perhaps fear, and that was no domain of mine. I was no match for it physically, that unnatural mass of spines, horns, claws, fangs, and pure muscle. I had no choice but to run, and run fast. So I bolted away in the first direction I looked. The demon had far too many maws and limbs, but it was big, and the only plan I'd had time to formulate was to run where the trees were the densest, hoping that it wouldn't be able to follow me directly. Instead, I heard the trees - massive old things with trunks thicker than my torso - snap in two with cracks loud as thunder. Rage never went around; it went through.

Still, it did slow the demon down somewhat, which barely allowed me to keep my distance. It was a matter of staying away from it long enough. Unlike most emotions, rage burned itself out relatively quickly. But was it quick enough for me to get away?

Barrelling through the forest with that thing so close to me would haunt my nightmares for quite some time. And the sounds it made; grunting, roaring, howling, yelling._It was saying things, I was certain, but I couldn't understand any of it. I hadn't realized that I could feel emotions other than lust this intensely, but I was afraid. Absolutely horrified. I had no idea where I was going, and I came to the terrible realization that I wouldn't be able to keep this up. It wasn't just stronger than me, it was faster too, despite its enormous size. With the scenery around me looking the same regardless of where I ran, it felt like one of the mortal nightmares; that one where you're running from something evil, but not going anywhere, as if in mud or on ice. I had to think of something else, and _fast, but I was panicking, unable to think. Fear-

Fear was what gave men wings. So it was with demons. Lust might've been what powered me, but the sheer terror - of that blurred mass of destruction incarnate - that I was feeling, it was the catalyst I needed for actual flight. At first I flapped my wings to give myself a boost, but the demon was gaining on me. It'd only be seconds before it caught me and I'd be gone in an instant. No more pleasures, no more Lethe, only oblivion. I flapped my wings again, and again, harder, and suddenly I didn't come back down. Instead of the panicked, leaping run through the forest, I soared up. Every muscle in my body was burning with adrenaline, or perhaps with fel, but for a few seconds, I flew. Through a gap in the thick canopy and into the night sky. Up there, everything was peaceful, even silent. The stars glimmered above and the forest seemed almost tranquil. I was thinking of so many things at once, but one quickly eclipsed the others; I might've thrown off the bear, but I had to get down somehow. My wings wouldn't carry me for long, quickly weakening and becoming sore, like the feeling of carrying firewood for long distances. At first it had felt easy, like I could do it forever. But my muscles were tiring.

I knew I wasn't far from the village of my birth now. There was a lake bordering it, and while I didn't want to alert everyone to my return, I had precious little choice. Despite the darkness, I could see where the water was, but I couldn't see where it was at its deepest. But I was already falling. I folded my wings and held my hands tightly to my sides. There was a brief piercing pain - perhaps a broken toe - as I hit the surface of the water, and then I was under it. I let out a sigh of relief before remembering that I couldn't breathe underwater. Frenzied, I clawed my way to the surface, sputtering water.

For how much the Order taught people that we were monstrous and cunning, I certainly didn't feel very much of either at that moment. Some things are, perhaps, universal constants; in my case, stupidity and fear.

On the positive side, the rage demon was nowhere to be seen. By now I imagined it must've burnt itself out trying to find me and returned to a more docile state in some deep place beneath the earth or wherever the hell they lived. Another positive note was that I would certainly be sparkling clean by the time I reached the shore, and this far from the mountains the water was just cold, not _freezing._Swimming was downright relaxing after my panicked flight just moments ago. Despite how windy the mountains were, the water was almost still, with only gentle ripples beyond the ones I caused.

So, good reader. Hopefully by this point I've convinced you that demons aren't what they would have you believe. We have our own ordeals and feel most mortal emotions, even though they're somewhat dulled. We're not always in perfect shape, ready to seduce the unwary. By the time I made it to the shore I was so exhausted that I couldn't have fucked anything even if it climbed on top of me. I bring this up to perhaps give some perspective considering what I'm about to tell you next.

I crawled up on the rocky beach and promptly passed out, simply too drained to carry on. When I awoke, I was somewhere warm. Relatively speaking. It was certainly warmer than the outside had been. For a moment, I thought I was home, with my parents. I had ended up fairly close to the village, after all, and so I wondered, my eyes still closed, about how they'd react to my new shape. No doubt they'd be horrified, but maybe, just maybe they'd accept my side of things. There was a curious lack of lust_in my thoughts. It had to be a lingering inhibition from my mortal days, but I couldn't imagine seducing my parents. Anyone - almost any_thing - else, yes. Lethe had told me about these strange hang-ups. He had never found it in him to mate with women, having been one in his previous "life". The corruption wasn't, despite what others thought and even we might prefer to think, a total erasure of the former self. Some aspects remained.

I imagined smelling food, in my strange state just on the edge of the waking world. Maybe my mother was cooking something for me. A fresh pie, perhaps. Hot and dripping with jam, with the crust just the right amount of crisp and flaky. I could just about feel it in my mouth, the taste triggering a warm sense of nostalgic happiness. Yet, my mind fixated on the dripping blueberry jam. Drip, drip, drip. Like cum from a softening cock. No, more like... water. Dripping.

I forced my weary eyes open. It took me far too long to realize that I was back in the Order's stronghold. Water was dripping from the stone bricks above me. I was in a cell, with bricks surrounding all but one side of me, the last having thick iron bars instead. My own village must've turned me in, I realized as I sat up on the lumpy, ragged blanket I'd been afforded for my imprisonment. It might've even been my own parents that did it. For a moment, I pretended to be asleep still. I wasn't sure how they'd taken me here, or why. The wards must've been deactivated somehow, or perhaps they didn't stop demons from being forced to enter. As for the why, I imagined they'd want to execute me in public. Show the rest of the recruits what happens if you give into the demons.

Despite that realization, I didn't feel fear. Fair enough. After my encounter with the rage demon, I doubted anything else could scare me again. Instead, I felt _excitement._This was my grand opportunity to corrupt every single one of them. The leaders were trained to resist my kind, yes, but the recruits weren't. The fel surged within me, filling every fiber of my being with its delightful tainted flame. What I had to do was figure out a way to get started, to start that wonderful chain reaction of the entire Order collapsing into a mindless orgy of corruption.

Just then, my opportunity walked in through the prison doors. Silvermane, or whatever his name was. That horse I thought I'd killed. I saw him in a different light, now. Sure, he was probably more evil than most demons, but he was _beautiful._He was positively aglow with intense physical wonder, his tall mane flowing as he walked, his proud stance despite having recently having had his skull cracked. I could see the faintest hint of the bulge of his sheath, too, despite the armour he was wearing. Leather armour. Very sexy. He snorted as he approached me, in a very equine way. I wondered if he'd do that when I buried my knot in his shapely ass. It was somehow ironic that he was more or less fine, when since thinking that I killed him was what got me into this situation to begin with. Granted, I didn't really regret getting into it, just like I wouldn't regret getting into the horse.

He looked at me with a pathetic attempt at derision. There was no way the Order would've approved him to visit me, we had far too much... history. That, in turn, meant that nobody knew he was here, which gave me plenty of time to break his mind.

"You were right," I lied.

"Yeah, as if I didn't know that. I knew you'd be the first to fall for corruption," he replied. His voice sounded weak, like he'd just regained the ability to talk. Didn't matter, he'd certainly be fully healed after I was done with him.

"I wish I'd just listened to you..." I continued. Mortal me would've found it difficult to take that submissive position, but the present me had no such qualms. After all, it didn't really matter what he thought about me, as long as he got close enough. I leaned into the bars, feigning a look of defeat.

"At least the others will, when they see you hanged in the morning," Silvermane continued, sounding utterly smug, triumphant. He took a step closer. I highly doubted they'd try hanging me, given that I had wings, but my former tormentor didn't exactly have much in the way of intelligence. Nor cunning. He had come here to gloat, to soothe his wounded pride, and while a pride demon might've done a better job, I was very much able to take advantage of it.

"Just want to get one last look at your sorry runt face before dawn. You really are a useless piece of-"

He reached through the bars, probably to raise my head so he could look into my eyes. The idiot. I grabbed onto his arm and yanked him towards me, into the bars. He let out a surprised or fearful whinny, struggling and trying to pull away, but with the fel coursing through my veins he wouldn't have been much of a challenge even if he was in the best shape of his life.

So, being the kind fox that I was, I gave him some of it. It was the first time I'd breathed out fel, at least in this amount. It felt somewhat like vomiting, but oddly euphoric, like a climax shooting through my upper body. A gout of green flame burst forth from my open maw and into his dumb, surprised face. It wouldn't burn him, not literally. He started coughing. Didn't even try to hold his breath.

I watched his expression change. From startled and afraid to blank. His pupils dilated. I could feel his blood pressure rising, his heart beating faster. I knew exactly how he felt. Just like I had, only a few days ago. I took his arm, now limp, and placed it on my crotch. I could see him growing too, his undoubtedly huge cock straining against the thick fabric of his pants.

"You want it, you idiot," I moaned, grinding my swelling cock against his hand. "Get me out of here and you can mount me like a slutty mare too, you-"

"Just what the hell is going on here?" Someone shouted. I must've missed the door opening in my eagerness to fuck the equine. I grabbed his slack jaw and forced him to look directly into my eyes. If that man was the prison guard...

"Kill him," I commanded. "Kill him, and you can have me any way you want. Take his keys and open this door, and you can sink that beautiful cock of yours into my warm body, fill me with your seed over and over and over."

His blank stare turned into something resembling determination. He looked at the guard. The guard looked at me. He was one of the older wolves, but he was smaller than my new slave.

Silvermane charged at him with a furious neigh. The guard drew his sword but before he could ready it, the horse's massive body slammed him into the wall, a dull thud resonating through the cells. I heard the other prisoners wake up and start shouting. I had assumed I was the only one here, but this, this was wonderful. I'd have my own small army by the time I was done, an army drenched in fel and cum.

The guard pulled a dagger from his boot with shaking arms even as Silvermane began choking him. Of course everyone here would have more weapons, but the horse was too dumb to realize it. I'd have to step in. I focused my will into a foxfire outside of the cell, pouring as much of my energy into it as I could muster. It glowed brighter and brighter, like a small star. Truthfully, I had no idea what I was doing; it came naturally, like a demonic instinct. I shielded by eyes the moment before the inevitable happened. Silently, the light exploded with a blinding brilliance, visible even through my hand. The equine wasn't facing it, but the guard was, and I heard him let out a panicked scream of pain, as did several of the prisoners. The dagger fell from his grasp with a clatter as the steel hit the stone floor. I briefly wondered if any of them would ever see anything again, but truth be told, I didn't care. The Order was obviously corrupt and all the prisoners were here for good reasons.

I fell to my knees, breathing heavily. The energy would slowly absorb back into me, but until then, I'd be helpless. Luckily, the horse didn't have any further trouble. He focused on his grip on the wolf's neck, and then snapped his head sharply to the left. There was a sharp crack, and he went limp. Frantically, my eager slave began to search his pockets, eventually pulling out a ring of keys, and he quickly dashed back to my cell door. I could tell just how desperate he was; a wet spot was forming where his flared cock pushed into his pants, and he fumbled with the keys, jamming each into the lock and whinnying with frustration and arousal as one after the other failed to open it.

I had planned to fuck him first. I still would, but I realized I'd have to let him mount me first. Forcing him to murder someone was one thing; he was already a violent, nasty person. But forcing mortals to do something they absolutely did not want to was a much trickier proposal, I recalled Lethe telling me. It risked them breaking free, expelling the fel already into their systems, and I was too weakened to force Silvermane to do anything right now. I had to let him corrupt himself by using my body.

I turned around, getting on all fours and raising my tail, smirking as I heard the rattling of keys intensify. I wagged my ass invitingly for the horse, like a fox in heat. I suppose I was, in a way. Just not female. Not right now, at any rate.

One of the keys clicked and he almost tore the door off its hinges, desperately slamming it open with bone-rattling force. He was on top of me in an instant, panting and whinnying with his hips moving against me of their own accord, humping like a feral animal. And he'd called me weak. There was a delicious irony to it, but my mind was more preoccupied with getting his delicious shaft inside me. I heard the fabric tearing as he forced his pants off, unwilling to consider delaying our mating by a single second. His hot equine shaft fell onto my back. I wanted to caress it, taste it, but time was of the essence. Any second the rest of the order might come pouring in. He was almost as thick as my forearm and just about equally as long. No wonder he couldn't think, even without the fel influence it had to be hard with that much blood missing from his brain.

"Hurry. Fuck me, make me your mare," I coaxed him, feeling his shaft twitch with each word. He smelled intensely musky, typically equine. He clumsily positioned himself under my tail, against my warm, bare hole, his hips never ceasing their humping motion. For a moment I wondered if I could take him, and then shook my head. I was a lust demon now, I could probably take an elephant. I didn't know how, but I _knew._So I braced myself, and then pushed back against him. For a moment, my tightness resisted the massive flared head of his breeding tool, and then, with only a twinge of pain, it popped inside me, spreading my pucker wide and setting my nerves alight with pleasure. Silvermane mumbled something. I couldn't tell what. He was little more than a mindless animal now, a breeding stud single-mindedly focused on a single task.

He was a much different lover than Lethe was. Instead of his rapid bucking, Silvermane thrust into me brutally, hilting himself in one mighty shove. He slipped all the way inside without any resistance from my body, which seemed to fit around him like a glove. I had no idea how there even was that kind of space inside me, unless the physical amorphousness somehow caused it. But I couldn't deny that it felt wonderful. He rode my ass with hard, deep thrusts that rocked my entire body, his thickness sawing through my sphincter and the flare thumping over my prostate each time. I was already fully hard, leaking a steady drip of watery precum onto the cold bricks.

A realization came to me at that point; with how aggressive Silvermane was, he'd probably become a male demon. In our sense of the word. Aggressive, dominant, primal. Not much for thinking even after his arousal faltered. Just what our budding little cabal needed. It'd take a while before he was fully a demon of any sort, but after he was finished with this he should be sufficiently influenced to help me corrupt the other prisoners, and then the rest of the order.

But he needed to hurry up. As much as I wanted to stay beneath him and get fucked hard, savagely, for as long as he could keep it, I had to speed the process up. I clenched around his turgid shaft, gyrating my hips around that length penetrating me, milking and caressing him with inner muscles I'm pretty sure mortals didn't even have, and soon enough he was snorting again, huffing, his rhythm breaking down, growing more and more spasmodic and feverish. And then, he slammed into me, hard, sending me sprawling on the floor as I lost my balance even with all four limbs working to keep me up. He bit my neck - it didn't hurt much with those blunt teeth - huffing and puffing into my nape. I felt his cock jump inside, not just throb or twitch, but jump, the tip flaring to the point I could feel it somewhere deep inside, and then he came.

I always thought that foxes like myself came a lot. Then I thought demons came a lot, what with the pools of cum we produced, but horses? He was like a firehose. I felt a torrent of hot, sticky cum pour through his cock, erupting into me with a wet heat, much more of it than I'd felt with Lethe, and that was just the first spurt. His balls rubbed against mine as he spasmed again, grunting, neighing, even roaring. I could feel my belly bulge out with the sheer volume of seed being pumped into my body. It didn't worry me - the felfire within me would break it down very quickly - but it amazed me just how full I felt. Like a pregnant female. And he kept depositing more of it into me, fully giving into the desire to breed. The sheer intense eroticism of it brought me to climax as well, and I shuddered as euphoric release surged through me once again, my knot swelling even without being tied to anything, as I spilled my seed onto the prison floor. I shuddered, rhythmically clamping down on the equine length, my body milking him for all he was worth. I made a mental note to try this as a female - in the mortal sense - at some point. Then again, I didn't really know it my insides would be any different. Lethe hadn't gone into great detail on that.

Finally, after what felt like several minutes, he collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily. His weight pressed me into the ground, flattening my wings against my body. As much as I had enjoyed the romp, I had to force him off; with my energy recharged by raw sexuality, it was surprisingly easy.

I stood up, feeling a good amount of the still warm cum gush out of me, getting my tail and legs all messy again. I suppose it was a good look for what we were about to do. I couldn't wait to have another one of our smorgasbord of mortals to lap it up. Hell, I wanted to do it myself, and it took all my willpower to focus on the task at hand. I took a brief glance at Silvermane's body. He didn't seem physically changed yet - it'd take a little more time in my presence - but I could sense the corruption starting to take hold. It was somewhat funny, the fact that he'd seeded me very thoroughly, but it was him that my seed had taken root in.

Of course, I still didn't particularly like him. I gave him a sharp kick to the ribs.

"Get up. There is more to be done. Pick a prisoner and fuck them, or let them fuck you," I ordered him, harshly. He had never even gone soft. Instead, his huge ebon length bobbed in front of him with each step as he stood up and left the cell. He wasn't reacting the way I thought he would, but rather, he seemed to be moving as an extension of my will, with little in the way of agency beyond a desire to mount, fuck and breed. I'd have to ask Lethe about that. I had thought he'd become like me, but that was clearly not the case. I watched as he approached the first cell, following behind him.

This prisoner was yet another wolf, the Order's favourite species to recruit. He was trying to hide in the corner, cowering, pressing himself against the unyielding wall, shielding himself with his arms. He couldn't even look at us. Silvermane grunted, clasping one of the thick bars of that cell door, and yanked it off like it was made of paper, startling even me. I saw - sparks, I think, of fel, outlining his veins with a dull green glow. Yes, he was definitely becoming a male demon, but what I couldn't figure out was why he was so... mindless. Certainly they were single-minded, but they weren't dumb. Silvermane was acting more like a zombie.

I called him back; his approach wouldn't do us any good here. Instead, I ordered him to guard the door into the prison while I took care of the pleasantries.

I knelt down next to the wolf. Yes, I could've had him presenting himself in the blink of an eye, but he was afraid, and like I told you, dear reader, I wasn't evil. The wolf refused to look at me.

"What'd they put you in here for, hmm?" I asked, reaching out to run my fingers through his long, unkempt head-fur.

"I... no-" he mumbled, recoiling at my touch initially, but soon enough leaning into my warm paw as I scratched him behind his big lupine ears.

Now, reader, I'd like you to imagine being this wolf. He was nobody important, a blank slate for the purposes of this story. No doubt you'd react similarly to him if you met me. Afraid of the kind of instincts I'd unleash in you. But since you're still with me, you must be curious as to what it'd be like. We can explore that together, later, if you seek me out, but for now, put yourself in his position, and I'll tell you what it's like to be with a demon. Just a small taste.

So imagine yourself there. You didn't know why they took you. You hadn't done anything wrong, but for days they'd left you to rot in this moist, miserable cell with no explanation. The first time you even saw anyone else was when all hell broke loose and that huge horse tore the cell door right off. So it's no wonder you were afraid, anyone else would've been, too. But then, he retreated, and you saw something else; me. You could tell what I was, of course; there was no mistaking the curved horns, the leathery wings folded on my back, or even the fact that I was completely naked.

You didn't dare look me in the eyes, and yet, you couldn't look away either. Instead, your gaze fell on my body, the striking orange fur that covered my sides and most of my face, and the snow-white fluff on my belly. As your eyes fell you noticed just how big my sheath was, how swollen it looked, and the very tip of my vulpine cock peeking out from it, wet with ever-present drops of arousal. You could smell me, too; like a mixture of musk and brimstone, distinctly fox-like, but with a melange of arousal, both mine and that of others, and a subtle scent of the forest, of something wild.

You recoiled in fear when I first touched you with my sticky fingers, running them through your rich grey pelt and letting some of that scent rub off on you. Yet, the touch was warm, almost like a weak sort of lightning, causing your fur to stand on end. It was the first encouraging, comfortable thing you'd felt in almost a week, and so you couldn't help but lean into it, still shaking, you poor thing. My claws dug gently into your fur, just enough to scratch the skin beneath, and it relaxed you just a little bit. Somehow, you knew you didn't have to be afraid despite my obvious demonic nature, and when my soft fingers gently began rubbing, almost pinching the cartilage of your big ears, you even let out a soft whimper of pleasure. You couldn't answer my questions; why they'd taken you, even if you knew where you were, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I, a demon, was the first thing to show you any sort of affection instead of a distant coldness.

So you looked up, into my fiery emerald eyes, and it instantly made your head swim, made you feel dizzy and light-headed. A strange sensation, yes, but it made you feel more relaxed. Somehow, you knew you could trust me. Somewhere deeper in your mind, you even felt that teasing itch of arousal like a spark about to be stoked into a full flame. Your eyes fell onto my full crotch again, and you saw my crimson length hanging halfway out now, and you knew it was for you. Just for you, that alluring foxhood was swelling up, readying itself for breeding. It was strange at first, the thought of being desired enough to cause that kind of reaction in another male, but the realization made your own body heat up in an unseen blush.

I leaned closer to you, until our noses were almost touching, and as you watched, I exhaled a faintly glowing green mist; another gift for you, you knew. It tingled against your black, wet nose, a prickling sensation, not unpleasant. So, softly, you inhaled, then suddenly gasped as that faint burning strangeness was pulled down your nose and into your lungs. That was when you suddenly realized what it smelled like; pure, primal arousal. The same lust I was feeling now infusing your body, rapidly spreading through every vein and muscle. You could feel your wolfhood swelling, almost jumping out of your sheath, making your arousal plainly visible for me.

I stood up, fully erect now, in front of you, and you didn't hesitate. You scrambled to your knees and grabbed me by the hips, burying your nose into the damp fur of my groin, letting my hardness rest on top of your muzzle and you sniffed deeply at my scent, giving my full orbs a few eager licks, as if feeling for how heavy with cum they were, cum that you suddenly desperately needed. You looked up at me, looking adorable with your wide-eyed look of lust. I nodded, and you wrapped your muzzle around my cock. Almost immediately, you felt a squirt of warm precum splatter against the roof of your mouth, doing nothing but fanning the fires of that overwhelming lewd lasciviousness that you'd already surrendered yourself to.

In your submission, you didn't think in the slightest about the fact that you were sucking another male canid's cock, worshipping it even, running your tongue all over the slick flesh, accepting me deep into your throat all the way up to my knot. It just felt right, despite you never having felt this kind of desire for another male, that desire reinforced each time I throbbed, depositing more of my salty, tangy preseed straight down your throat. After all, I wanted you just as badly as you did me, and each moment of you suckling on that length brought you closer to your reward. And it felt so good feeling my hot length pass through your pursed lips, causing you to shiver and shake and moan around my masculinity.

But you needed more, ever more. Even my sticky load coating your tongue wouldn't do. No, you needed to submit to me fully, to let me take you, and realizing this, you pulled off my length, turning around and raising your tail for me, just as I had done for my equine friend earlier. That universal gesture of invitation, delivered with the slightest wag of your tail, the unmistakeable canid presentation of your body for me to do as I wished with. You felt a surge of pride as I accepted it in kind, moving into position behind you, ready to cover your body with my own, to mount you and sink my length into your warm body.

Wordlessly, I moved on top of you, the feeling of my body pressing down against yours like a promise of pleasures soon to be seen. I took one of your sensitive ears into my mouth, licking along the edges, and you bucked against me.

I gave a few tentative thrusts, wanting to take you like a feral fox taking a similarly feral wolf. My pointed glans jabbed into the side of your tight sphincter a few times, and you gave a quiet little yelp of pain, before I finally got myself aligned properly, watery precum shooting against your naked flesh as I got more and more excited. And then, with a slight sting of pain, I was inside you, halfway buried in your previously virgin body, claiming you just as our bodies wanted, a crescendo in our animalistic dance of lust, the climax yet to come. And oh, you sang out as I pushed deeper into you, hitting all those secret bundles of nerves and spreading your clenching, squeezing hole wide, causing you to squirm and then howl as you felt what it was like to be properly taken.

Your tongue hung out, your expression one of mindless pleasure, even before I started thrusting, grinding my hips against your ass, pushing my knot in just a few millimetres further each time. Before we were done I'd have it locked inside you, even if only for a brief time before I had to force it out again; we couldn't afford waiting an hour for it to go down, not in here. Still, you begged for me to knot you between huffs and moans, and I wanted to tie with you just as badly, in our shared lust.

I was gritting my teeth soon enough, holding back my climax. The first time with any particular mortal was always beyond amazing, the way they squirmed underneath me, crying out their pleasure for everyone to hear. It was a risk here, of course, and when you started getting too loud I wrapped my paw around your muzzle, quieting your moans as the end of our carnal union grew closer.

You came first, your body not used to this kind of mating. Then again, nobody was, when it was lust itself doing the mating. I felt your tight body clamp down on my length, and as your hole relaxed for a brief moment after the first squeeze, my knot slipped into you. I could feel and smell your seed erupting into your paw and spilling down onto the floor through your fingers. I wasn't far behind, and soon enough I dug my fingers into your chest, holding you tightly as I held back a roar and then erupted into you, spraying my thick, ropy seed deep, deep inside you, my knot ensuring that almost all of it would stay there, at least for a few moments, corrupting you with my demonic taint. I was already imagining how I'd make you lick up your own cum, smearing it into your fur, but you beat me to it, turning your head to give me a profile shot as you hungrily cleaned your paw, lapping up the strands of the sticky stuff connecting your fingers to each other, visibly luxuriating in the taste with each glob you scooped up. It was almost too much, almost enough to make me restart our mating, but we had no time.

For a few minutes, we laid there on the bricks, my cock still drooling semen into your guts even as I rubbed what remained of your load onto your muzzle and face. The look suited you. You winced when I had to slowly pull my knot out, but soon it'd stop hurting. Then, you'd grow those wonderful wings and we'd do this so many more times, once we were done with this place.

Oh, but ultimately it wasn't you. Regardless, you liked it, didn't you, reader? Wished that it had been you instead of just another wolf who'd soon become a demon like myself. No doubt your paws are messy with your seed, just the way they should. You're probably still panting, basking in the afterglow. You should lick your paws clean, take in that raw taste of your sexuality. Imagine if you could feel like that all the time. You could, with me. I'm sure you know where the Order's former stronghold is, if you'd like more than just a taste, to truly give yourself to your lusts.

That's a bit of an early reveal, isn't it? One story remains to be told; how we managed to take that place over. I could tell it to you in person, or perhaps, one day you'll find the third and final part of my journal. But I'd much rather have you with me to help me write it.