By Any Means
Myster is a cursed soul, looking for some semblence of love and appreciation in his life. He returns to his estranged twin sister, Mysma, looking for some love, but the cruelty she offers him leads them both down a road neither would have believed.
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Mysma stares down at the pathetic creature before her, the heavens-blessed woman's hands firmly against her hips, onyx eyes staring down with pure disdain at the pitiful creature before her.
Myster bows low before her, quivering in his apologetic stance. His horned form trembling, his knees hurting, his calloused fingers scratching against the ground. “Please… Mysma… sister dear… I'll do anything… anything to know the secret of being loved."
Mysma flicks her jet hair back, sneering and sitting on the high-backed chair. She strokes her alabaster lips, staring at the poor creature before you. “You misbegotten wretch," she growls. “Would that One such as I come from the same womb as a monstrosity like you!"
Myster looks up, tears staining his face. Though he has chiseled features and a well-trimmed beard, Mysma can't help but recoil at the sight of him.
This makes him sniffle and look down. “I've tried," he moans. “So many times… to find love… to find appreciation. I've been a philanthropist… and a hero, and yet… yet…"
“Yet, you are a pest, scum, and a waste of space who killed our mother when we were born and ruined my chances at sainthood with your continued existence." She snarls, crossing one leg over the other, bouncing a boot. “What could you ask of me that I'd be generous enough to give!"
He crawls up to her, shuddering, his massive shoulders quivering wildly as he approaches her boot. “I cannot find love in the realm of romance… nor can I find it in friendship. It's driving me mad. Sister, my twin, please! At least find it in your heart to find some love for me now that we are mature!"
Mysma stands up, spitting, striking him on the cheek. “Oh, suck my cock, you pathetic little ant!"
She stomps off, pouring herself a glass of whiskey and watching the pouring rain outside.
There's a moment of silence, followed by a soft shuffling as the man sits on his knees, dabbing his fingers on the spit, wiping it and his tears clean. “Is that what it'll take?"
Mysma stops swirling her glass, her breath catching in her throat. She slowly turns around, her onyx eye a pinprick, and her breath stops. “The hells did you say?"
Myster's crimson eyes wobble and waver as he stares at his angelic twin. “If I… If I rendered that service to you… would you love me?"
The hand holding the cup shudders and shakes, and the heaven-blessed woman grits her teeth, grinding them, the glass shattering, sending a mix of blood and whiskey burning and dripping down her hand. Her next word comes out through those teeth like the growl of some beast. “Are you serious, brother?"
He blinks, sobbing, gripping the knees on his fashionable pants, his face a bleary mess of tears and snot, but through his blubbering, he nods.
Mysma wipes off the whiskey, picking out the bit of glass that cut her. A simple spell heals her perfect alabaster skin before she saunters toward him, standing tall, her thighs right before him.
“I can't believe it, and yet… here you are!" she says, chuckling. “You'd say absolutely anything to get even the slightest modicum of respect, wouldn't you?" She slides her hands down, unfastening her belt. “None of the best tailors, hair trimmers, or horn sanders in the land could make your painfully dull features any more attractive to anyone, so you wish to joke with me? Is that it?"
She hooks her hands on her waistband, pulling her pants down. With her other hand, she lifts up her vest slightly. There, exposed before the fiend-born man, there hangs the own quirk of her birth—a massive cock, veiny and flaccid.
Myster sits there, looking up at her face, his lip pouting, quivering.
Mysma snickers down at him, slowly lowering her top and reaching for her pants. “See, you're so pathetic that you can't even commit to something so gross and disgus-tah!?"
Myster grabs his twin by the thighs and leans in, pressing his lips to the head.
The thing twitches to some semblance of life, leaving Mysma stunned and staring.
“Is this good, my sister?" He whines
“You… you pervert…" Mysma growls, her lip twitching up toward a wicked grin.
“Please, say you love me!" he groans, kissing along the shaft now, his thin mustache tickling at the sensitive flesh.
She slips a hand up to her cheek, covering her face. “How… how filthy…" she groans. “You… you have no future in civilized society, doing such a thing!"
He slips his mouth down to the base, the cock lying upon his forehead. He kisses up along it, letting the tip rest on his nose and soon pressing it down to his lip.
He whimpers as he stares at her, only for Mysma to finally growl and grab him by the horn. “You sisterfucking piece of refuse! You want to tease me on top of damning us for all eternity!?" She says this, shoving him up against her crotch.
Her groans, his mouth finding its way underneath that cock, pressing up against her wondrous balls.
She yanks him away, throwing him back down. Myster stumbles back, falling onto his butt, his elbows supporting him.
Mysma stands tall over him, crossing her arms under her breast. “You touch and taste only what I tell you." She says, raising a boot high and planting it on his chest, pushing him down against the hard, cold floor.
Lightning strikes as Mysma looms over her twin brother. The flash shows her sadistic smile spreading from cheek to cheek, her eyes pinprick with dominating glory.
“You want my love, dear, dear, brother?" she says, her voice cold and sharp. “Then you will have to endure all of my hate!"
As lightning flashes and thunder roars in the old estate, Mysma stares down at the groveling creature sitting beneath her, her shoulders rolling. She finally straddles him, standing in front of his face. Wrenching him by the hair, she pulls him in close. “Let's go again, shall we, you disgusting, sister-fucking freak!?"
Myster puckers his lips, ready to take that cock, prepared to be accepted by someone-anyone. It isn't to be, as when his head is thrown forward, Mysma isn't aiming well, and instead of his mouth, that cock pokes him straight in the eye.
Myster wails, grabbing his face and falling as Mysma drops him into a wallowing heap.
“What a pathetic dick-sucking disgrace," she says, unbuttoning her vest, one button at a time, looking away from the cowering, groveling fool on the ground. “To think we shared the same womb—what a terrible cursed existence it is, even for one as graced by glory as I." She sighs, removing her vest and her top, her smallish but perky breasts freed.
She stands over him, hands on her hips, sniffing. “The fuck are you sitting around for. Undress, or I'll be forced to rip those clown clothes off of you!"
Myster pulls his hand free from his face, one eye swollen from the strike, the other staring wide. He scrambles and undoes his fineries. All the while, Mysma walks around him, her boots thumping along her floor. “For the gods' sakes, at least take off your pants!"
Blubbering, Myster undoes his belt and pulls his pants down. Mysma places a boot on his head and pushes him down, knocking him to the floor.
“If you know what's good for you, you won't pick your head up," she says, hands on her hips. She slides her boot off the back of his head, leaving some particles of dried mud on his hair.
When Mysma gets behind him, she swiftly slaps Mysmer's hide. “Spread them!"
His long chaosborn tail rises up, and his hands reach behind him, spreading his ass before the one and only person who would give him attention.
“And there we have it. Not a single beg. Not an utterance of protest. You just do every last thing I say without respect for your self-worth!"
Myster squeezes his eyes shut, his hips high, his tail trembling, his teeth chattering.
“Still no response, eh?" she says, slapping that cock between his cheeks. “Perhaps then, you are no good to me but as a cock sleeve."
She aims it with one hand, the other digging tightly into his ass flesh. She grunts, pushing it inside, spreading him out, and burrowing deep into that warm, unprepared hole.
“Uuugh…guhn…"
“Oh, shut it, you fucking worm…" she growls, forcing her eyes closed, clenching her teeth. She rocks her hips, burrowing in, slipping inch-by-inch into Myster's awaiting but unprepared hole.
“Grauh…."
“I said, SHUT UP!"
Mysma leans over Myster's body, her naked flesh rubbing against his clothes. Her breath is ragged as her hips roll into him, spreading him out, making him groan and growl and whine.
Her response is swift. Her hand, now freed from guiding her cock, reaches around Myster's much more massive form and finds his own mast hanging down beneath him.
With a snarl, she grips that thing hard and hisses into his ear. “You're fucking serious? Rock hard and at full mast with your fucking twin in your ass?"
Now firmly rooted within Myster, Mysma rocks against him, slapping her body against his own in a dedicated motion. “Is it, ngh… because you… crave attention…? Or…"
Her hand wrenches against his cock, twisting it as she bottoms out into him. His wails rush up through the hall, echoing in a tortured scream.
She lets him calm down, loosening the grip only enough for those screams to become nothing more than a constant whimper.
“Or…" she picks up her conversation again, her lips right by her ear. “Is it because you like cock so much because you're nothing more than a massive f…"
The last word that graces his ears makes him collapse and whine and cry, covering his face and pitifully sobbing.
“I'm not… I'm not… please! I'll do anything. Just love me!"
She sits back up, slapping his ass again. “Oh, I'm going to love this ass!" she snarls, her teeth clenched tight, looking almost like a bear trap with the intensity of her hate. She picks back up her relentless fucking of him, climbing up so one leg is over his back and the other plants her boot firmly on the ground.
She's a relentless machine, huffing and growling on top of him, the sounds of her excursions drifting down to his ears, the feeling of her cock filling his every core, the excitement that she has used him like a toy fills his every moment of being, so much so that his own pathetic moans get higher and higher, and he's ready to burst.
“Not yet!" she snaps, as if through twin telepathy. She grabs the base of that cock, squeezing it tight, cutting off the means of escape for his cum. “You're… nfh… not gonna… fuck… cum… gah… before I do!"
“Gaaaaaaaaah!" He whines, rocking his hips, attempting to stimulate her, to make her release, to get her to cum so that he can finally, finally have that sweet release himself.
Neither of them would have to wait long, for she throws her head back, her eyes rolling in her sockets, her body glistening from the excursion, and she releases, impregnating his ass with her celestial seed. By the time she's done, Myster groans under such pressure.
And as quick as she came, Mysma pulls away from him, leaving him to cum and collapse all the the same time.
When she stands, turning away from him and marching through the hall, she utters one last thing to him. “For an ugly cretin, you are a good fuck… I suppose I will keep you around after all. But," she continues, cutting off his pleading thanks. “My twin brother is dead. He died before he could make such a disgrace of himself."