Bloodmoon Resort: Satan’s Trip
Time for Satan to finally take a break from Hell
Bloodmoon Resort: Satan’s Trip
Time for Satan to finally take a break from Hell
A gong echoed in the distance, completed by a running river, fluttering birds, and winds rushing through the leaves.
“Deep… Breath. Deeeep… Breath.”
With one inspiration, the whole room seemed to be lit afire. Perhaps it was the fire itself echoing each breath, or the magma flow that intensified with the heartbeat. An exhalation barely did nothing to handle the tension in the air, the unanswered questions, the tension, and…
The fists closing.
“Remember, sir. You are your own temple. The foundations are strong. The columns are supporting the peripteros. The stone endures the sun. You are a majestic temple above all, a king sitting atop his throne. Deeep breath.”
Deep breaths. Yet, the tension remained in the muscles coiling underneath the red and yellow scales. The four eyelids might be closed, but the small tremors indicated it was not from relaxation but from more effort. Even the lips were tight, too tight to be comfortable when he held his breath.
Not only that, but the tail smacked against the stone.
“Sir… Is there something on your mind?”
“What? No. Nothing.”
“Sir. What did we say about the lies? They are…”
“The festering wounds of our psyche. Yes. Yes. I am aware.”
A hand waved, and the music stopped. Even the gong disappeared, same as the wind, the birds, the running water. Remained then a blob of magma exploding and… A grumble.
“Sir? What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Another grumble.
“You are bottling up, sir.”
“I am not.”
“Yes. You are. Anger is not to be crushed. It is harmony.”
“I… Fine!”
With a roar, Satan stood up from the oversized yoga mat and stretched. His legs ached from keeping the posture for at least one hour, and his wings flapped by releasing the sulfur scent.
His eyes, the four of them, focused on Yogirt… And then, away as he closed one hand into a fist and punched the dedicated punching bag, Satan-sized and provided by Mammon.
Even his money-hungry face had been painted on the punching bag, but it gave the perfect opportunity for Satan to unleash his frustration as he released hit after hit.
“Sir.”
A grumble.
“Sir. You must voice your frustration. Give it your voice. Let it out.”
“That… DAMNED! LUCIFER! HE KEEPS PUTTING ME ON READ!” roared Satan, clasping his hands together and smacking the punching bag with his two hands!
“WHAT A HIT! YOU SHOULD GET SICK SWOLE BY BUYING MAMMON’S PROTEIN POWDER! AND GET BIG AND STRONG LIKE A DEAD-“
“Fuck him!” shouted Satan, delivering another punch. This time, he managed to detach the punching bag from the stalactite and sent it spiraling into a pool of magma. A second later, the bag burst into flames, and Mammon’s recorded voice turned into white noise.
“Another punching bag. Noted. Now Sir… What if we talk about your frustration?”
Without a punching ball, the humongous, Dragon-looking Deadly Sin started to strut back and forth. He strutted, snarled, and made sure to kick any human-sized rock on the way.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. I am aware of your frustration about Lucifer. Have you tried to voice your concern more constructively?”
“YES! I did my best to tell him to move his ass back from his little fantasy with the sinners. But so far, it has been nothing. Mammon is just as obnoxious to handle. And Belphegor! Do not start me with Belphegor.”
“May I see how you worded your… Plea, Sir?”
An oversized phone was sent his way, and Yogirt scrolled down the sea of slurs and insults thrown at Lucifer’s face. All were left on read, before it ended with a please. Quite an improvement, the Imp would say.
And so, the phone was given back, though Yogirt had to fight to carry the phone. Since the phone was as large as he was.
“I can see you have improved. But maybe they are not yet receptive to those changes and requests? Plus, lately, you have been busy.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tribunal. Goetia. Imps. Urgh… So much on my plate.”
“Then… What about taking a break? You could leave for the Bloodmoon resort.”
“Wait? Really?”
Satan’s eyes widened as he fetched his phone and glanced at his ‘therapist’. As usual, Yogirt was helpful. And the small Imp was flying around, producing his own phone to show to one of Satan’s eyes the resort’s pictures.
“Yes! The portal to that world was recently renovated. I did not tell you because I wanted to make it a surprise. Plus, they opened it to new realms, and I am certain, you could find there the rest you need.”
“New realms? Like… New clients?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I checked with your friends who go there, and they told me the ambiance is positively better! You should go! You deserve some me-time, Satan!”
“That’s true, I have been… busy. And overworked.”
“Yes! Take a full week. Do not bother yourself with Hell, your imps will handle it.”
“Urf… As if they could.”
Satan huffed and frowned, though the photos of the renovation were tempting: new magma pools spa, sulfur vent for breathing decongestion, new bungalows, a new route through the Demon-hunters’ ruins. It got more staff, opened a new mall, the community center got renovated. Indeed, if Yogirt wasn’t selling it, the photos did.
“Maybe I should take that break.”
“Do it. I will oversee everything. And if you need to take more days, you can warn me.”
“Well then! I will go there! Tell the imps to prepare for the handover. And I will prepare my suitcase.”
With the fist closed to his chest, smacking the red scales, Satan turned swiftly and began to stomp towards his private room. But his steps were lighter… And so was Yogirt’s attitude as he breathed and resumed his meditation.
“Little steps.”
-
“Bloodmoon, here we are!” chuckled Satan, raising his double pair of glasses from his eyes, his eyes adapted to the sight.
Sight that was different from the hellish red and the magma that covered most of his circle.
No, the sky above the resort had that purple coloration with rose and blue clouds mingling in, as if they were constantly stuck at early dawn.
Beyond that, the air was iodine, and the sound of the nearby sea was pleasing to the ears, almost instructing everyone to relax.
“Sir. Please sir. Leave the portal area and proceed at a more convenient size, please.”
And just like that, a bit of Satan’s relaxed attitude broke down as he stepped away, his tail leaving the portal’s threshold before it closed.
Then, with a sigh and a growl, the humongous Deadly-Sin began to shrink. It was not a spectacular process, though it felt like Satan was squeezed into a form that wasn’t in, like a volume of water compressed and put under pressure.
His weight was the same, his power was the same. But now, he was at a ‘convenient size’ for the Bloodmoon resort. Eight feet and a half tall, the Dragon-like Demon was still towering above most of the workers around the resort… Especially the helmeted receptionist at the edge of the portal area, stuck behind a counter and typing on a computer.
“Sir… Satan? Is that right?”
“You recognize me?” asked the Demon, leaning over the counter while having a hand on his duffel bag.
“Yes. You are a VIP member. We are glad to see you return to the resort. The reservation was put in your name by Yogirt for two weeks. Is that right?”
“Yes! Two weeks? Oh… He must have planned for more,” mumbled the Deadly Sin, his claw dancing on the wood surface.
“Great! Then, our staff will show you your room. Do you also need a guide for the accommodations?”
“I can handle that on my own,” said Satan, chuckling.
“Perfect. If you may, Steve will guide you,” said the receptionist, raising his hand to Satan’s right, right to another helmeted Human.
That was one of the particularities of the Bloodmoon resort.
All the staff looked like humans and were as such. Everyone wore a helmet, a gold-like helmet that covered their faces from the top to the neck. Some of those workers also wore a bow tie or a tie, indicating whether they were assigned to a client or a manager.
Nevertheless, Steve was a mere and almost-naked human. Muscular, hunky, hairy with gray hair, much like his peers. His skin was peppered with scars. For his garb, Steve wore the typical red silk loincloth with the Bloodmoon Resort’s name embroidered on it.
Without being asked, Steve offered to grab Satan’s duffel bag. The Deadly Sin handed it to the Human, who had to fight against the training weights inside. Even then, he guided Satan across the threshold to the resort.
From the outside, the resort only looked like a massive white-walled structure settled on an island with a portal pad outside, allowing for all entities to come.
But once through the door and the security check, the place revealed itself as an adequate resort.
Stilt bungalows peppered the sandy coast, joined by boardwalks crossing through forested sections, through rocky outcroppings, and even above the sea to join a few isolated bungalows that were dedicated to the high-paying clients or VIPs.
Between those stilt structures, a few more concrete-based buildings served as restaurants, community centers, mall, spas, and then more. If the name Bloodmoon resort was known, it was due to being a little town away from the chaotic clients’ lives.
And Satan was almost relaxed, and fitting, with his Bermuda shorts, his Hawaiian shirt, his sunglasses, and the flip-flops that hit the boardwalk.
“So, Steve? Are you new to the place? I have not seen you before. Is John still around?”
“I joined the crew one century ago, sir. And John is still working as our primary masseur. Should I ask him to visit you?”
“No. Let him be. He must be overworked,” said Satan with almost a joyful glance as he pulled his sunglasses up to admire the sight of one of those helmeted Humans acting as a pilates instructor, stretching on the beach while a few of the resort’s clients were following the instruction on their towels.
“My therapist told me you've made some improvements since I came here.”
“Oh. Maybe? When was the last time you came?”
“Seven centuries ago. Or eight? It was the bubonic plague, and Hell was chaotic during that period because Lucifer was playing around… Urgh.”
“Sir?”
“No. Nothing. My therapist told me not to bring my problems here,” grunted the Deadly Sin, his wings flapping and his shoulders dropping as he was led to one of those isolated stilt bungalow.
Located right by the sea, Satan only had to take a few steps down to take a dip. Plus, those houses had a private pool if he so desired, all with a lovely view of the blood-colored sea, contrasting with the pearlescent sandy coast.
As for the stilt house, once Steve opened it with a pass and handed it to Satan, the place inside was comfortable. It was a suite, with three bedrooms, one living room, all the amenities, and even a private kitchen.
On the opposite side of the entrance, a bay window opened to the sea and the private pool, and the master bedroom had a similar bay window.
“Here. If you need anything, you can call the reception, sir,” said Steve, back from putting the duffel back on Satan’s bed.
“That’s good, Steve. You can leave,” mumbled Satan, hand-waving the Human away… And soon, the door closed behind the Demon as he examined the place, checked the mattresses, the closets, even the full minibar. It was comfy enough. He started to open his Hawaiian shirt.
Knock! knock!
“Mhhm?”
Opening one eye out of four, Satan frowned, then turned to the door. Someone was there.
“If that’s Steve because he forgot something,” growled Satan.
He stomped ahead, the fire in his eyes almost growing when he passed by the many brochures by the door… And opened it.
“Satan! Finally taking a break?”
A pair of purple arms, covered with fat but still muscular, closed the distance between Satan, and soon, the Deadly Sin was stuck in an embrace with another Demon. A fiend whose head was adorned with the remnant of a helmet, akin to a Tiara. The face was burned, the flesh was somewhat attached back due to a partially working regeneration. The lips were missing, keeping that demon in a never-ending snarl, though those gold eyes were glimmering with joy.
“You’ve been keeping yourself sparse for the last seven centuries! You couldn’t even visit us one day?” asked the broader and larger Demon, yet smaller.
Enough for Satan to pat that head and smile while pushing against one shoulder.
“Doom,” began the Deadly Sin. “It has been a while. You have… Changed.”
With that, it was indeed surprising for the Deadly Sin to see Doom, the lord of the seven Hells in his world, to appear so… Comely. Instead of the crimson armor, the Demon was showing a curvy body, both in ass and bosoms, barely restrained by what looked to be a … Bikini?
Or so it was as the poor fabric was presently digging into Doom’s oversized and purple chest, while the lower part was almost digging into his sizeable genitals, whether his uncut cock, or his scrotum.
Even the Demon’s belly seemed to bulge, with a glowing tattoo etched onto that belly with runes.
“I do. You should have seen me a few decades ago, I was a mess,” roared the wider Demon, stepping inside the house and whistling.
Without any footwear, Doom waddled like he owned the place, and Satan almost felt comfortable in closing the door and letting Doom do as he wanted. The curvaceous Demon pulled the glasses from a cupboard and a bottle of imported firewine from the mini-fridge.
But in doing so, he displayed his rounded bottom, the enormous cheeks with the underwear’s string digging right into the Demon’s donuthole, pulled slightly on it as it oozed with… Lube and cum.
“Hmm. It’s not the best year they’ve had, but it will do. Where shall we drink?”
“The pool.”
A moment later, and without his attire, Bermuda shorts, flip-flops, and shirt away, Satan slunk into the pool.
Even with the lack of sunlight, the temperature outside was hellish… And the almost chilly water was deviously pleasant while bubbles escaped from the Demon, due to the sudden transfer of temperature.
A similar situation for Doom as he poured Satan a glass of firewine.
“So. What brings Satan, the new overlord of his little hell, back to Bloodmoon?” asked Doom, handing out the glass and pouring one for himself.
“The same troubles. Lucifer has been hiding in his corner with his ducktoys, trying to fulfill his little fantasy. The heavens are still drumming at our door once a year… No, no, twice a year. And they’ve almost managed to stab a Goethia. And the backstabbing. And Mammon, who tries to squeeze himself in my circle and to take MY DAMN DOMAIN!” shouted Satan, smoke escaping from between his clenched teeth while the pool burst into bubbles before he stopped and relaxed… Deep breaths.
“Whoa. I am not the only one who has changed,” said Doom, sipping his wine. “Seven centuries ago, you would have told me you wanted to turn everyone else into meat paste. You still have that fire, Satan. But you control it now?”
For a moment, Satan sniffed his firewine. With the temperature, the liquid was bubbling, and a gulp later, the magma-like substance was perfect to consume. It was not wine for the mortals. But to demons? It was a delicacy that led Satan to lick his lips and reach for another service.
“Yogirt?”
“Yogirt?” asked Doom, pouring again.
“My ‘therapist’. The Goetias suggested it, mortals have inspired them. He is somewhat useful.”
“Somewhat useful? You appreciate him, then.”
“He’s always on my shoulder, literally. But he helps me calm down. The meditation works with my temper.”
“Seriously? Do not let Trigon know that. You won’t hear the end of it,” chuckled Doom.
“You won’t tell him a thing.”
“I am silent,” said Doom, mimicking closing his mouth with a zipper. “But it’s good to see you back. Plus, they’ve renovated the place. We even got a few new paths. Like a place named Lordran. But you might appreciate Capra.”
“Pass. I plan to relax, take it easy, listen to the waves, sample blood, and maybe visit John.”
“Forget John. There is a new masseur in town, Armand. His hands are divine. They can pound the stress out of you in one minute.”
“Better than John? I doubt it.”
“You can believe me.”
Satan scoffed. But then, as he scoffed, his eyes noticed something. A ring on Doom’s finger… And then, the Deadly Sin put the glass on the pool edge and let himself sink… Right until the water was above his shoulders.
“Oh. I missed this.”
“Next time, you will follow up on our invitations and messages?”
“Perhaps… if you tell who managed to put you in that sorry state. Ring? Tits? Ass? If I didn’t know more, I would’ve questioned who I was talking to,” laughed Satan, shaking his head.
“Balanar.”
“The Balanar?”
Satan watched with raised brows, the four, and saw Doom nod. Then he whistled.
“You two had a thing, but he bred you?”
“More like I am his broodwhore. Our relationship is open, but I can bear his eggs only.”
Another whistle.
“He knows you’re here?”
“He knows?” laughed Doom, pouring and emptying the bottle. Always so egotistical. “He sent me here so he has the time to murder a few demons making advances on me.”
Again, another whistle.
And the Deadly Sin dropped entirely underwater, making the water burst into bubbles with his two horns sprouting above… before he emerged again, and had his arms on the pool’s edge.
“It’s true, though,” added Doom, tilting his head.
“About?”
“The invitations. Rakdos, Molag, and Be’lakor are angry at you.”
“Wait… They’re here?”
“Yeah. It’s our outing. We’ve been planning it for the last fifty years!”
“Wait! So… They’re all here? And they know?” asked Satan, his eyes widening and his fingers on the pool’s edge.
“No. I was the only one to notice you because I was ordering a drink.”
“Fuck… They’ll probably see me and ask me to explain everything,” groaned the Deadly Sin, facepalming. “I’ll have to buy them cocktails to keep quiet, and answer to the invitations, and the murder parties.”
“That’s on you for leaving us on read.”
“Oh… For fuck’s sake!” shouted Satan, hitting the water with his clenched fist, the liquid exploding in steam when in contact.
For a moment, Doom remained still… Then stood up, not without giving Satan a preview of that fat ass… Of that hole, the Deadly Sin had plundered before, or watched plundered by one of the many workers in the Resort. An ass that had even gotten better with the years, and so the rim was just… Begging for his attention.
“Where are you going?”
“Returning there. You reminded me I was supposed to have a fist-fuck party with Be’lakor,” said Doom. “But it was good to see you.”
Just as Doom’s feet got out of the water, Satan reached for one of those cloven feet, holding Doom by the ankle.
“Hmm?”
“It’s been good to see you. And… Let's do something again.”
“Really?” asked Doom, turning so he faced Satan… So the Deadly Sin could see the front of that underwear… Of that string digging into Doom’s cock and balls.
“Really.”
“Well. I’ve got something to try out, but most people here are bottoms,” said Doom, approaching and kneeling, almost pressing Satan’s muzzle against that round belly and those tits.
“That’s why everyone missed me,” scoffed Satan.
“That’s why everyone missed you,” confirmed Doom, passing a hand on Satan’s head, stroking the scales. “You and your big cock.”
Satan felt the water around him bubbling again, with more intensity, though he wasn’t angry. Far from it, as he smiled and leaned forward, kissing Doom’s mouth, merely going for the snarling teeth since Doom didn’t have any lips.
Doom answered with a similar kiss, stroking Satan’s neck. Their tongues coiled, danced, exchanged. The aroma of firewine was intense, similar to sulfur. But both enjoyed it. No… everyone in the Resort enjoyed it, even the staff.
And as the kiss continued, Satan’s hands rushed along Doom’s curvaceous body. He touched those nipples, erected within the bra… The belly. And then that cock as it dripped precum over the floor and into the pool.
“Get yourself ready. I’ll clean up the pool,” ordered Satan, his voice almost purring.
“Don’t make me wait another century.”
A scoff, but Satan watched that powerful ass sway away, tempting the Deadly Sin to rush after. But rather than doing so, he followed Yogirt's indication: a clean home is a clean mind. Glasses, bottle, and all were recovered. The bottle thrown and the glasses cleaned, it was with his erection pointing forward that Satan entered the master bedroom to see Doom with his legs open.
It was Doom who, somehow, made Satan discover the existence of the Resort. And it was Doom who invited Satan, who led him to strike friendships with the other overlords of other realms.
And today, Satan was rewarding the plushy and delicious Demon lord by climbing on the bed and having his cock, hard like steel, press against Doom’s swollen and aching asshole.
A purr came from the Deadly Sin, his tongue sliding out to lick Doom’s face, the remnants of his burned skin, and then plunder his mouth while he aligned his hips.
“Hrmph… Sat-Hrmph!” moaned Doom, surprised by the display of lust and desire.
But Satan was far from stopping it, even as he listened to Doom’s moans.
His tongue continued to ravage that mouth, to push into that throat, into that gullet, into it would bulge through. And his fingers were on Doom’s thighs, digging into the leathery flesh with his scales while he had his organ at the ready.
One cock, almost as wide at the end as for the tip, except for the glans, which was somehow thinner and had a spade-like tip. Along the whole length, the Deadly Sin had soft spikes that were there to poke and tease and pull on any hole he’d take.
If that organ, almost as wide as an arm, was standing proudly like a veiny spear, the Demon wasn’t ashamed of his testicles, which were adequate in size and volume.
And it had been decades since Satan had emptied himself.
“Shut up, Doom. Take it like a whore,” groaned and ordered Satan, smacking the fatter Demon’s ass, leaving a red mark on that right cheek.
“Fu-Fuck… Satan-“ continued Doom, only for another smack to silence him.
“Who told you you could talk, Whore?” asked Satan, his voice sultry and deeper than before, more… Primal.
The kind of voice that made any of the slutty Demons around melt. And Satan smirked, seeing Doom’s lustful eyes and clenched teeth.
“That’s right. No one told you you have the right to talk. You are a whore. A toy for me to unleash my frustration. I could have spent it playing with the mortals. But you are a better tool for that,” chuckled Satan.
He chuckled more as, with his clenched fist raised, a leash appeared as well as a collar around Doom’s neck.
The first was his. The second was Doom’s.
And the result was that Doom wanted it. He wanted the feeling of that leash pulling on the collar, strangling it the more Satan pulled.
And Satan pulled, his veins popping on his arms from the pleasure and sadistic glee he experienced.
For one, after a long time, Satan smiled. Smiled in a way that would have made Yogirt shudder and tell him to stop that course of action.
But not now.
Not when Satan had another overlord with his fatty ass begging to be taken. The other Deadly Sins were not to Satan’s taste, not even Asmodeus. As for the Goetia, there were a few. Paimon’s feathery ass was pleasant… but that bastard was a blabbermouth far too interested in himself.
Doom? No. He was another one whose presence had been struck by the conflict, by the yearning for battles and war. Even though they’d been softened, both, it was the moment for Satan to… get what he desired.
A yank and Satan’s mouth met with Doom again, with that fat-assed Demon’s mouth he filled again until that throat bulged.
“Take it bitch. But not a word. Or I’ll punish you.”
Doom got the implied threat and nodded. Though his composure broke down when Satan’s cock was at his asshole’s entrance. When that spade-like tip pressed against the hole and slipped inside.
It seemed that asshole had been cratered before. Perhaps from the spawn. Or from the dick.
Nevertheless, Satan wasn’t one to bother with it as he slipped his cock inside. One inch. Two… Three… Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.
Nine entire inches that were pushing through and punching through Doom’s guts, making the already swollen belly gain a rounder shape from the pleasure inside.
And Doom’s breathing was getting rowdy. He exhaled through his nostrils; he hissed through his teeth. But so far, the fatter Demon wasn’t even speaking.
“Good slut. Keep quiet,” ordered Satan, adding another inch and feeling his groin was about to meet with Doom’s ass.
His testicles were practically resting against that sweaty posterior, and the cushiony presence was wondrous… Pleasant as Satan smacked that ass and felt it close up on his cock, squeezing and massaging it.
“Hrmph! That’s better! Keep it tight!”
The Deadly Sin grinned, feeling in control as he had his hand free to pull on the leash or smack, as his body was free to act. And underneath, Doom seemed ravished.
The eyes rolled, and the teeth were finally opening… Oh, and snort kept flowing from that nose.
A radiant vision, one Satan compared naturally to those plushy tits already leaking inside that bra and forming two rivulets dripping from the bra and right onto the bed on either side.
“Those tits suit you better. You never needed all that muscle, Doom. You were a slut, through and through,” said Satan, yanking on the leash and watching the vice close on the neck, closing on the airways.
But silence.
So far, much to Satan’s satisfaction, Doom had been keeping quiet.
A silence was maintained when Satan’s groin finally met with Doom’s asshole, and sensed that asshole clenching and trying to suck on Satan’s base… Trying to get more from the Deadly Sin as he was entirely inside.
“You can… Speak. Doom”, said Satan, delivering another smack on Doom’s ass. And then sighing when he felt that asshole clench on his dick.
“Fuck… I… Missed that from you, Satan. Keep… Keep going,” mumbled Doom, his voice a whistle.
“That? I will do,” laughed Stan as he yanked on the leash and almost heard a squeak.
Doom’s throat was getting crushed by the leash… But neither Satan nor Doom seemed to stop.
None seemed keen on changing the situation when Satan pulled back, slowly, steadily.
The rim was so tight, it slowed him. But in return, the sphincter, the clenching muscles, the walls, were massaging him thoroughly.
That smile, that deviant smile, remained plastered on Satan’s face. His teeth glimmered as much as his eyes, and that sadistic glee only grew and grew… When Satan’s shape seemed to throb.
Entirely.
“I will stuff you. Doom. If Balanar hadn’t stuffed you with eggs, I will,” laughed Satan as he continued to pull… And felt the rim straining to keep him inside when his cocktip was at the edge of slipping out.
But no… Satan didn’t pull out.
He rammed back inside, making the bed rock… Almost the bungalow from the applied strength.
The resounding smack of his testicles on that fat ass was delicious. But better was the increased sensation on his organ when Doom’s hole seemed to be tighter.
Or rather, Satan grew bigger.
The staff allowed Demons to use whatever size suited them as long as it didn’t involve the staff and was in private. At that moment?
Satan had no problem releasing his shape, steadily, slowly, in bursts. Burst of growth that made his cock bigger inside Doom, making that already round gut bulge even further.
“Fuck… Keep… Keep getting bigger,” moaned Doom, the eyes rolling and the tongue lolling out.
His prostate was certainly crushed, and his cock, still locked in that string that could, started to explode in a musky and steamy cumshot. The organ, despite the string digging into the urethra and glans, could still release it… And shoot all over Satan’s belly, coating the red scales in white and the sheets in that musky liquid while Satan… Whistled.
Whistled, chuckled, and delivered another smack on Doom’s ass.
“Oh yes! I’ll keep getting bigger until you’re my little condom, Doom. I’ll stuff you until you are round and begging me to stop,” laughed Satan, unafraid of the consequences.
Unafraid, as his growth bursts increased in frequency. Faster, faster… Until there was no separation between the burst and, instead, Satan was steadily getting bigger.
His muscles, glistening with sweat, bulged with renewed strength. His legs were getting so big and long, his feet dangled from the bed’s edges. And even the bed began to creak. Satan was pouring power into his stature and shape, getting bigger and ‘better’.
A heavy presence that was right against Doom’s prostate, inside his guts, and crushing him from above until the horned Demon had the Deadly Sin’s sweaty chest above him.
“My… Favorite fuckhole. That’s what you are, Doom.”
Again, Satan was not lying.
He appreciated Doom for his sluttiness, his willingness to go further. It was with him that he tried to fuck a cock for the first time. And it was with Doom he learned the joy of egg-laying. It was justice, but to make Doom break like a good mortal whore.
And so…
The Deadly Sin’s hips pistonned back, impaling Doom faster. The Lord might have cried or begged for release, but the Dragon-looking Deadly Sin was not merciful.
Smoke escaped from his nostrils as he exhaled, as he penetrated, as he stuffed that hole until their hips met and the bed almost gave out.
The bed even crashed against the walls, leaving a mark on the paint, while Satan resumed and gave another thrust. Another powerful, earth-shattering thrust.
The bungalow seemed even to wobble, and the sound of crashing glass indicated the moment wasn’t an illusion.
But Satan continued, his wings unfurling and his tail smacking against the mattress as he roared, smiled… And finally, came.
But even then, he wasn’t done moving.
Though the Deadly Sin came, he continued to thrust in and out. His red-hot semen, with the color and the smell of magma, poured inside Doom.
With the movements, some of it spurted free, dripping over the fireproof blankets, on the mattress, and then on the floor. Instantly, as the burning liquid dripped, the fire extinguisher activated. A clean mist landed on the two Demons. Satan’s horns almost pierced the ceiling, but he continued to thrust and move his head left and right, not without delivering hefty smacks on Doom’s plushy asshole.
An asshole that kept clenching and milking Satan, while the Demon Lord was happily cumming over himself, his belly, his tits, and his face.
“S-Stop.”
“Why would I stop? I am not done with my favorite fuck-toy,” chuckled Satan, feeling his vigor coming back as his ejaculation abated. By then, Doom’s belly had grown rounder. But Satan was ready for more than one round.
Though this time, he was taking it easier as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Doom’s face, his horns scraping the wall.
“Come on, Doom. We are not done. Not by far,” said Satan… Smacking that posterior again… And again… And again.
By the time they were done, the Deadly Sin had unleashed six orgasms and stolen eight from Doom. Surely, the two were on the bed, but the others had occurred all over the suite: inside the guest rooms, on the sofa, against the kitchen island. By the end, the two Demons were locked together.
Satan’s cock was firmly locked inside Doom, and the Demon Lord had his body pressed against a counter, unable to peel free.
But despite the rounded belly, as if he were expecting a dozen eggs, Doom wasn’t bothered.
His legs quivered a bit, but he managed the composure to take another sip of firewine from the bottle since all glasses had been shattered.
“Shit… That was the best sex I had had since my last breeding.”
“Ouch. Not since your wedding?”
“You can shatter my hips, not my mind,” said Doom, defiant and handing the bottle back, right to the whistling and chuckling Satan.
“Oh yes. You have changed in that aspect, too. The marriage suits you well, Doo-
Knock knock!
“Shit, it’s the staff?”
“Maybe? You called them?” asked Doom, surprised and pushing on the counter, bending over, to detach Satan from his plump posterior.
“I didn’t. But maybe they noticed how I wrecked the place,” said Satan, stroking his chin. “They are still covering the damages when you pay a premium?”
For an answer, he got a side-eye from Doom, and Satan stepped back, one hand raised.
“Fine… Fine. You should take the opportunity to see the boys. They must be waiting for you.”
With Satan pulling out, and without that massive dick to plug that asshole, Doom’s donut gave out against the musky red cascade. Certainly, the liquid was colder now, and it did not burn against the wooden floor. They’d already turned one of the guest bedrooms into a wasteland of fire and ashes; it was enough.
Enough, though Satan did not resist the appeal to finger that hole and test its flexibility. Or rather, the “talent” Doom had in sucking phallic objects with his sphincter.
Knock knock!
No mortal could do that, and only a handful of succubus had that talent. None Satan fancied compared to the Demon Lord, he leaned closer to kiss on the neck.
“I must leave.”
“I know. Will you come back tomorrow?”
“A lord doesn’t make promises.”
It was a given, then. Doom would return.
And so… Satan smiled, releasing the embrace and following Doom to the door.
“Well then. I’ll stay here for the moment. If I move, I’ll warn the staff,” said Satan, almost ready to return to the relaxation of an entire week in that little bungalow without any trouble. No Mammon, no Asmodeus, certainly no Lucifer. And no friends want him to explain himself.
Well… That was the idea as Doom opened the door, not on the staff.
But on a group of horned Demons, carrying bottles and a plethora of cheap, greasy, and much enjoyable appetizers.
“Satan! You should have told us you returned,” began Trigon, the first of the many demons to pass through and push Doom back onto a sofa. “Don’t be so sour, it’s been centuries!”
A sultry remark, certainly mocking, as Satan smacked his forehead and groaned.
“Here we go.”