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Pleasure of the Storm

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Atemisk

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When Atemisk wanted to, he could take the form of a human, though it was not something the storm spirit usually took for himself. Sure, he could pass for one of them, those little lives milling amongst one another, but there would always be someone that paused at the depths of his deep, black hair or who would catch the sheen of red in his eyes when the light hit them just right. He would rather expose himself for who he was of his own free will than deal with side eyes and looks.

And that was why he was up in the sky, a dark, swirling storm of wind, twisting and winding back into himself. He held no fixed shape as the tornado of sorts, though Atemisk was all manners of wind, of course, all at once. Slim tentacles of winding wind curled in and out of the tremor of the storm and he rumbled softly, as if echoing thunder.

There were so many women down there, in the city below, from the ladies in the office blocks to the freshmen in the dorms, even the quiet college librarian who was going about her work. His eyes saw all, penetrating buildings and winding through corridors to find his targets – not that he was going to do anything bad to them, of course not, but he wanted to reveal them for the beauties, inside and out, that they truly were.

His winds fluttered and flickered around him, offering him a gleam of sensation, even though it was with others that his winds played the best. Atemisk breathed with the flow of wind, sweeping down, his attention on the mall.

He saw them all, greedy yet lustful fingers reaching for them – the woman who would be amenable and wanting of his attention. Of course, there would always be some who would not want his attention, even when he brushed cool, chilling tendrils of wind against them, fluttering through their clothes and offering them untold lust and pleasure. He would never force someone, of course not, so he chose carefully as he swept down and down and down, the mall roaring with life before him.

He slammed the doors to the mall open, even where they should have been on sliding tracks, banging off the walls and shuddering in the frames. Yet they were not enough to hold him back as he barrelled into a coffee shop, a chain that had caught his attention before, with a plethora of female furs inside.

They turned to greet him, lips parted, even if they could not truly understand his influence, the delight he offered them. His winds swirled through the coffee shop with a tentative lick of force, knocking over the tables as a couple of the women, who didn’t want his attention, slipped away.

They were not his focus. Oh no… No… Atemisk’s winds toyed and teased with the cashier’s skirt and apron, flapping under it and making the fabric ripple along her body.

“Oh!”

The lioness moaned, her fingers digging into the counter where she stood, tipping forward over it, her breath caught in her throat. Although there was a mix of humans and anthros in the world, he chose her first for the fire in her eyes spoke to him, heat rising from her. Even the warmth of milk steamer seemed to have got to her, the fur on the back of her neck and down between her breasts ever so slightly damp.

Atemisk teased her softly, playing tendrils of coaxing breeze up her skirt as her fur shivered under his touch, sometimes flattening to her skin and sometimes puffing up, allowing the slenderest of his wind to tease between the individual, fluffy hairs. The anthro leaned forward even more over the counter, pushing her backside up for him, and he took the form of a massive cougar to her back: close to her species but not exactly.

It was all she needed, his form dark-furred like the deepest, most dangerous of storms, and Atemisk rumbled a low growl, like thunder building on the horizon, tainting the edge of the crowds. His cock was more than big enough for her – but he would not stretch her out unduly, not beyond her natural needs, of course.

That wasn’t the kind of shapeshifter, the wind spirt, that Atemisk was, no. He wasn’t there to ruin a woman for any other, even as he pummelled his winds around the coffee shop, sending an adult student’s paperwork flying, paper, takeaway coffee cups dancing and bobbing on the winds, all around the room. But no one in there minded, not as the other three females left in there took their liberties with their own bodies, fingers sliding into jeans and under skirts, though Atemisk wasn’t concerning himself with them.

It was not needed, not in the slightest, taking his pleasure with the lioness as his thick shaft speared deeply into her pussy. She stretched around him, taking him easily but with just the right amount of friction, the velvety walls of her pussy gripping him tightly. The lioness moaned and Atemisk growled, tail lashing with a flicker of building, rising wind, the edges of his form undefined. Even though his dark-furred cougar’s body was more than solid enough to take her, he was still a wind spirit and there was no reason for him not to embody that, even in a moment like that.

She gripped him as he toyed with her clothes still, her panties pushed to the side as his winds sent her apron flapping, skirt whipping around them as if he was trying to tear it from her body. And yet that was not what Atemisk was about in the slightest – not yet, at least. He had to wait until his winds had built even more, savouring the moment all the way from a light breeze to a tornado-like frenzy, tearing apart even the fabric of the city itself.

It would be rebuilt, of course, like it always had before. Though he never caused harm to anyone, not in the pursuit of his lust for the wind, the passion that carried him through his life, directionless and yet knowing exactly where he was going.

Yet he had to claim every woman that would have him, his cock spearing deep, thrust after thrust claiming the lioness first and foremost. She clawed at the desk, yowling out her pleasure as orgasm thrummed through her, her sex clutching and milking his cock, twitching erratically around him. Atemisk groaned, long and low, driving his wind up and under her clothes to caress her breasts, even if she was wearing a bra. Such things would not stop him…

He pulled out, not yet having orgasmed, and turned his attention to a woman with long, black hair that fell in a curtain-like sheen down to her mid-back. It was the perfect hair for his winds to play with, sliding fingers of wind through it as if he was a lover to her, though the human woman only arched into his touch, her chest rising with every snatched breath, called to his passion.

“Oh… Oh, yes…”

Atemisk murmured his response to her, one massive hand going under her back, taking the form of a brutish, huge bull. Even though his partners usually liked him to match their species, at least in part, her desires were more illicit, dwarfing her in height by at least three feet if they had been standing side by side with one another.

But they were not, not as he curled his hands under her buttocks and lifted her right up and on to his cock, his winds fluttering up her dress and curling into her underwear. He ripped her panties from her, his wind filling her underwear with wind until they could not help but flutter free, tearing from her hips. They were not needed, not in the slightest, not as his winds filled out her dress, sending it flowing and spilling around them as she sank on to his shaft.

“Ohhhh!”

Her moans were half lost in the air as her black hair danced back and forth, almost as if it had a mind of its own. And yet the breeze controlled it, at least in that moment, threading through to separate sections and then close them back together again, the blunt cut of her hair almost becoming rough and lively with how it tangoed with his wind.

Her legs wrapped around him, her high heels digging into his backside, though that only served him to thrust on and on, the doors rattling and banging back and forth, as though they were none of their concern. The moment was about them, even as he stroked his wind around her red heels and between her toes, the tiniest of tendrils seeking the smallest of crevices, nipping and sucking at her feet. It was as if the tendrils of wind were mini wind tunnels, playfully dragging at her skin to suck at it with little, popping twitches.

The bigger tendrils, the ones that were to come, well… They would have far, far more to do, all in due time.

Her pussy gripped him, pulling around the full length of his cock, which had taken on a smooth, bovine-like shape with a rounded tip. It was just what she needed when he was in one of his preferred forms of a dark, primal bull, thrusting and grinding, his lips and muzzle twitching with raw passion. Yet it was the winds dancing around the edges of his form that gave him a sense of the dark ethereal, large horns rising from either side of his head as he pounded her, her fingers clinging loosely to his shoulders.

Atemisk bellowed as she climaxed, her pussy tightening around his cock, teasing him, pleasing him, milking him of everything he was worth. And Atemisk, in the form of a bull, exploded inside her too, thick ropes of cum painting her pussy and even drooling back out of her pussy along the length of his thick member. It was not the focus, however, not as Atemisk fed their lust and his with his winds, flowing around the coffee shop, rattling picture frames, even tugging at the bandana on the top of a wolf anthros head.

Any fabric he could toy with, he did, letting his passion fly, leaning into the moment, not caring for anything else. Nothing else mattered, not in the slightest, not as he pulled out of the woman and left here there to revel in the aftermath, the afterglow to last for hours upon hours.

His form disintegrated again into a swirling mass of dark wind, billowing from the coffee shop and powering down the primary avenue of the indoor mall complex into a women’s department store that spanned several levels. With subtle relish, he flowed through the many racks of clothes, letting the long folds of skirts ruffle against one another, even flowing blouses fluttering and waving.

Yet Atemisk’s winds picked up more and more, knocking hangars off racks and took his liberties with the changing rooms, each individual changing stall with a curtain hanging across it. They were meant to be for privacy, but that didn’t matter to him, not as he was welcomed by a wolf woman with a challenging gleam in her eye, as if she wanted him to do his worst to her.

She was not like some anthros, however, who did not have hair on their heads, boasting long, curly locks of brown hair that fell beyond her shoulders. The wolf woman whimpered as his winds funnelled around her, begging him to take her as he transformed into his primal, feral-like wolf form, head and shoulders taller than her. Even then, he was still born of the wind, the storm raging inside, his true nature aching, oh so deeply, to come out.

Her curly hair bounced as Atemisk threaded his wind through it, lifting her moans as she turned her back to him, allowing him to run his large hands down her body. Dressed in a smart suit top and pencil skirt, the kind of thing that would have been suitable for an office job, the wolf anthro was not able to even get undressed before Atemisk spun into her life like the whirlwind that he was.

“Oh, yes… Please…”

He slid his cock, complete with the typical knot of a wolf, already engorged, up under her pencil skirt, though it was his wind that tore it up the side: a neat slice up. For his wind was powerful, more powerful still than a casual breeze, and he huffed and heaved, blowing warm billows of air over her back and the back of her neck and head as he slammed into her.

The storm rose, swelling within him, and Atemisk greedily took her, his passion rising, more and more and more. It had to come, there was no way to hold it back – and neither did the storm spirit want to hold it back, no, not in the slightest. His wind blew up under her suit jacket, popping off the buttons so they pinged off the mirror before the wolf, her heels soft around her hind paws so she was pushed up on to her toes. Alas, they were not of the open-toed variety so he could not see her feet, though Atemisk could still swirl his wind down and around, teasing into every little gap and crevice to be found down there, all to admire the glory of her body.

Her cries were drowned out in his rising winds, battering against the inside of the changing cubicle, sending the curtain flapping wildly, back and forth, back and forth – until it was ripped from the rings above entirely. Her hoops earrings swung madly, though still remained tucked into her ears, her hair fluttering over her face and then streaking away, torn first one direction and then the other as need trembled deep.

Atemisk only wished she had presentable stockings on her legs too, darkening the fur with a more professional sheen, as it would have added to his enjoyment of her feet. Yet he had to penetrate her more and more deeply, not knotting with her but grinding the knot right up against the folds of her pussy, threatening to stretch her further than she ever had been strained open before.

“Ohhh… Yes!” She moaned, her words barely audible even though she was shrieking them, her hair wailing around her face, covering her muzzle and then twisting away in the next moment. “Blow…harder! Give me moooorrrreeee!”

She cried out and climaxed on his cock, her hands slammed into the mirror, the walls of the changing cubicles at the department store wavering and shaking. His wind curled under them as he spent himself inside her, breaking them down, knocking one wall into the other, though no harm came to anyone. They had better things to enjoy than being crushed, after all, and the pleasure Atemisk sought was shared with all, spreading tendrils out through the department store.

Even as he knocked down the entire changing area with his wind, shaking the foundations of the building itself, the wind tendrils, like mini twisters, spun out into the rest of the store. They whirled up under skirts, sending them flying upwards, teasing fingers over cold, open shoulders of blouses and billowing long, flowy sleeves that were simply begging to be filled with all the air and force he had to offer.

Pulling out of the wolf, he left her there, transforming into something akin to his human form, though there was still a flickering shudder of the wind in him. His skin was pale, in the centre of the storming hurricane, but his eyes shone red with his innate, unsatiable hunger.

Atemisk took his time within the department store, taking every female, whether they were human or furry, on a whim, greedily claiming them all, one after the other.

First a woman with a sunhat on, which was swiftly whipped off with a blast of wind as she dropped to her knees before him. She took his cock into her mouth as he thrust, letting her gag on it, though it caused her no harm, clothes rattling from the racks, tumbling down, one after the other. Her blonde hair shocked out from her head and then bounced back in again, as if it was able to float, like she was underwater, no longer obeying anything akin to the call of gravity.

Second, there was a cow anthro with a soft, velvety nose that his tendrils delighted in playing across, her eyes wide and shining with adoration. She tried to take his cock into her mouth next but Atemisk wasn’t ready for that, no, not as he sent a blast of air and energy at her, a hurricane-like wind sending her flying up and back, head over heels. Even as the cow flew through the air, in a blur of black and white, her dress flung up around her hips, she bellowed in orgasm.

And then there was another woman with tall pumps on her feet and hair that cut across her shoulders, the shaggy cut just what he wanted to play with. He didn’t need to penetrate her, not as he settled back into his wind form alone, a dark, swirling mass of air and energy, but he caught her up in a twister, spinning her around and around.

She whirled and whirled and whirled as he turned her around, his winds encasing her, sliding around her heels and up again to her sundress, flinging it up and wrenching it down, the long, flowing fabric rippling and shuddering as he toyed with it.

Yet his winds were building and they had to come, spinning the woman out of the tornado as her roughly cut blonde hair spun out around her head in a golden halo. Yet it was only still for a heartbeat of a moment as she was flung aside, praise for him on her lips, begging for attention that he had to share.

For Atemisk could not stay with her, oh no. He had to move on, spearing his wind into every corner of the department store as he swung open doors, launching them off opposing walls, even streaming into the office and sending paperwork raining down in a fluttering hail.

He was done with it, however, flowing out of the department store once more and channelling his energy down. Atemisk didn’t enter any more stores there, not as he sought sweeter pickings, sending tendrils of winds spiralling out to penetrate partners, taking their wet heat just as readily as he took every open maw that was offered to him. They didn’t know what form he was in and neither did they care, not as their cries were lost on the wind, tangled in desire forevermore.

The mall shook as he squeezed himself into the ducts, shrinking his malleable form to fit into the smallest of gaps, infiltrating the air conditioning system. Cries and moans followed in his wake as he forced his hurricane-like winds to grow, to strengthen, to swell with every breath and pulse of energy in him and his lust.

No more was he a breeze, no. Atemisk was so much greater than that as he shook the walls of the mall, wrecking them, forcing them to crumble, though the many lives inside would be more than okay. Yet the cataclysmic events he was capable of setting in motion were not something Atemisk had any will in himself to resist.

There was no need. There never would, not as he funnelled out of the mall, having had his fill, streaming into an office block, several storeys high. It was different from his usual pickings, though Atemisk enjoyed the corporate types too and the wolf in the changing rooms had truly whet his appetite for that kind of thing.

Businesswomen, whether they were meek and learning or confident and in control – they all appealed to him. A mix of women greeted him in the office block and he sent a blast of wind through, taking the form of the bestial bull again, but smaller that time: better for their tastes. He did not have to absolutely dwarf them, after all, unless that was their inclination.

Anthros and humans alike howled as a hurricane blast swept through the office, blowing out the glass windows on the opposite side and filtering through the ducts to the other floors. His wind tendrils twisted and sent out mini tornados to wail through the multi-storey building, but they would wreak havoc, wrenching cables out of walls and pummelling computers off desks, books off shelves… Yes. They would do that work for him while Atemisk got to focus on the women he was taking.

First, a hot beauty, her hair up in a tight bun. She smiled at him and sat up on her desk ready, spreading her legs. Her skirt was too tight for her to part her legs enough for him and he caught it with his wind, hurling it to the side to rip up the right leg, her underwear meeting the same fate. Not that her undergarments would have managed to fight back against the brutal pummelling of his cock either in a crude, rough fuck that was all the women wanted and more.

“Ohhhhhh… Please… Take me…”

Atemisk did just that, baring his teeth in a blunt grin as he hungrily took her, his cock powering into her cunny as her folds needily suckled on his shaft, hugging his length as the wind-bull drove deep. His red eyes blazed in the mass of darkness that was his form, though there was tint of blue in there too, threatening and warning of the rising storm. For Atemisk was nowhere near done, oh no, not as he shook the building, wrenching the foundations back and forth, bellowing as he claimed her furiously, stroke after brutal stroke.

Yet his time was done with her as he unwound her hair from the bun, sending the long, flowing strands bouncing on a wrenching wind, the kind of wind that tried to go through a body, rather than around it. Sometimes, it was called a lazy wind, and the woman he was fucking even clung to his body desperately, closing her legs around him as her heels bumped his sides and buttocks, crying out for him to blow harder, to raise his winds.

Her hair flung about, covering her eyes and then streaming away again as he bellowed and she climaxed on his length, the primal wind-bull having all of her he could ever have wanted. His seed streamed deep, spreading his lust, though they were ignorant to any droplets splattering from her pussy, even as he pulled out.

He moved on to his next partner: a tall mare with a mane all wrapped up in braids. Oh, that would not do either: he wanted her but, of course, the braids had to go. Perhaps that was the corporate fashion at that time, but the black and white horse moaned as he swept her skirts up and out of the way, exposing her and making the silkier, softer fabric pull and drag against her legs.

“Ohhhhhh… Yes… Me… Me next…”

She begged for Atemisk’s attention as he lay back – but not really. He was there, floating, using the power that was his to wield as she sat astride him, taking his big, bull cock deeply up into her. Her skirt should have flowed and fallen over his hips, covering what they were doing, but the strength of the wind raged through the office, sparks flying, the electrical system deeply compromised.

She too had big hoop earrings on, perhaps a little too large but they suited her thicker neck and pricked ears well, his winds playing with them. The hoops strung back out from her ears, bobbing and twitching back and forth, gravity lost to them while they hung, horizontally, in the air. Only the piercing through her ears kept them in place, though Atemisk would never have used his powers to rip them from her ears entirely.

He was better than that. He was stronger than that. He was so much more than what they thought he was as she rode his cock, powering up and down with the flow and pull of his winds, her skirt whipping around her, flowing and pulling back and forth, back and forth. There was no rhyme or rhythm to Atemisk’s wind, the bull bellowing as his cock twitched within her pussy, flowing forth with jet after jet of virile cum.

They could remain, those women he impregnated and allowed to swell with his offspring, yes. Maybe Atemisk was greedy in his claim of each and every last one of them, to be fair, but a wind spirit like him came with no bounds.

Air could not be caged. Even if boxed in, it could flow and twist, seeking the smallest of gaps to curl into, begging freedom. He was wild and he was untamed as his storm raged through the building, ripping cables out of the walls, any windows that were remaining shattering, though no one there seemed to mind.

They, at the very least, were safe, the wind ripping at their clothes, even making great tears through some skirts and even down the blouses of some ladies, popping buttons off. Yet Atemisk could not linger there, not when his lust surged, wanting to call forth gale force winds, those that could bring down entire buildings.

The breeze was tempting, but that was only foreplay to him as he swept from that floor and went to a higher level, leaving the mare behind with her hair flowing freely. His winds raged and swelled, growing in force with every passing second, moaning and groaning as if his winds themselves were a living entity.

Atemisk spun into a wind form again, disintegrating, sliding through an air duct to get to the next level, though there was nothing to hold him back, no, not in the slightest. Funnelling out into a floor that seemed to be a fitness centre, he threw exercise balls around, his winds even lifting dumbbells from racks and knocking barbells askew.

The receptionist behind the desk was dressed lightly in a short skirt that also had a pair of shorts underneath, though the fabric was just a little more restrictive around her thighs and hips, which allowed him to play with it differently. She was human, her hair bouncing and swinging in a ponytail dangling behind her head, though Atemisk swiftly tugged it loose from its tie, all so it could flow freely. It looked like she’d straightened it that morning and he relished in the silken nature of it as he swirled around her, feeding a wind tendril into her mouth, which substituted for his cock for her to suck on.

“Ohhhhh…”

She moaned around him, her brown locks swaying and flowing, dancing on his wind, whipping across her face and then away once more. Her lips parted wide and, if one was watching, they would still have been able to see her tongue and teeth through the blustering tendril of wind that was penetrating her mouth. It was not conventional – but what had to be so when it came to Atemisk?

They would all be left with pleasant memories of his time with them, bodies aching in delightful orgasm, tremors rolling through with ardent delight.

Ah, but he could not stay there, pummelling his way out of the top of the building in a wind tunnel, dragging bodies along with him, though their moans were only of the sweet variety. Harm was not what he lived for: destruction, on the other hand…

He flowed into his wind form, billowing larger and larger, swelling as he absorbed the force of the very air around him, rising above the city once more. He grunted, a low, rumbling thrum of thunder coursing through him, but there was more to come.

He had to dive again, plummeting in a screech of his form diving by still air, until he was back in another office block, whirling around and around the skyscraper, until he had trapped it within its very own tornado. The inhabitants inside moaned and clung to one another or the desks within, whatever was on their floors, clothing rising and falling around them, no longer trapped by the call of gravity.

Perhaps that had never been so, not in the first place, no. His winds spun around and around with such force that he ripped chunks out of the building, his heart rising with the fury of the storm, need drawing upon him more and more. Oh, Atemisk had so much lust to build, but there was only destruction ahead of him, laying the entire city – and even beyond, if that was something he wanted – to waste.

His bellow rolled through the building, spreading out across the city as his influence rose. His winds tore through other office blocks and high-rise buildings, regardless of their use, too, tendrils of wind swirling around women, toying with bandanas and hurling up skirts to expose all they had to offer to him. He howled, his cry rolling out across the city, his need to destruct finally reaching its peak.

And then it could not be held back, no, not in the slightest, not as Atemisk sucked out inhabitants of the office buildings and more, adding them to his funnel of wind. They may have been safe, but they still spun around and around, swirling through his winds at a speed that, normally, would have caused them injury.

But his passion transcended even that as he spiralled lower, sweeping through the streets and overturning cars, the trees that had been planted to make the city “a little friendlier” ripped from their pots and places in the ground. Their curved, jagged roots reached for the sky but they were hurled that way anyway, Atemisk tiring of them too swiftly as he played with them.

Inanimate objects, such as the cars, however, were merely a side effect to the funnelling blast of his wind roaring down the streets, crunching the foundations of buildings and even ripping up the tarmac. He flowed forth, buildings rumbling and crumbling down to his wake, sucking out all those little lives into the flow of his wind, dancing and bobbing as if, to them, it was nothing more than a light breeze.

His wind was the life force that sustained so much, too much, a power unlike any other. He blasted his force into the hills, where the biggest mansions lay, the richest of the rich. But their power in the world did not mean, in the slightest, that they were infallible or indestructible.

The most powerful of his winds flowed around the mansions, rocking the foundations and twisting pillars where the mansions were over built and gaudy. Shrubbery was torn from the ground as if it was no more than a passing thought to him, yet it still feel prey to his passionate wrath.

He steadied himself into the form of a tall, well-built man as he finally stood before one woman who he had coveted for some time. She was the wife of a banker typhoon, though such insignificant human wiles did not mean all that much to him, no, not in the slightest. He howled as his storm swelled around her, shaking picture frames on the wall, ripping away wallpaper and burrowing even into the walls themselves as he sought to bring her under him. She was tall, a fitness guru with a body to die for, though she was glad in a long, flowing dress that day: something light and airy, suitable for lounging about at home.

“Ohhhhh, yessss…”

Her cries were felt rather than heard, trembling to him through the vibrations of the storm as the mansion itself was brought down around them. He lifted her on his wind and seated her on his cock with no effort at all, a smirk on his lips as her wet pussy slipped down around his length.

“Mmmmm…”

Atemisk’s groan rose like another rumble of thunder – yet it was not so. He wasn’t bringing that kind of storm as his winds notched up higher, the city shaking, tendrils darting into buildings to suck out people, funnelling them into the black holes the wind tendrils created as if their lives were then going to take on some greater purpose still.

Her hair flowed against him, wrapping around his head and neck and then pulling away again as he shifted through his forms.

First the bull, big and strong, his cock powering smoothly into her as her body stretched to accommodate him. And then the wolf, primal and fierce, his chest broad and perfect for her to lean against, her hands on his shoulders. Finally, he slipped into his wind form only, penetrating her roughly, crudely, her pussy trying to grip him – but even though he had enough strength in his wind to penetrate her, she simply could not hold on to him back.

No… She simply had to let go, her large, hoops earrings bobbing back and forth, tugging at her earlobes. Her long dress flipped up and down, dragged back and forth by a wind that wasn’t yet willing to release her, no, not when it had her in its grasp, well and truly. The mansion fell around them, allowing grey daylight to spill into her abode, but no one would remember it. Structures like that, after all, gaudy and pretending to be old-fashioned, were never meant to be remembered.

She moaned as he played with her hair, though his winds attacked her with such fierceness that it was a wonder that his wind in her hair did not harm her, considering it was being tugged so brutally. Yet she was within the eye of his storm, in close enough to him that she was not affected as much as the outside buildings, her hair coiling and twisting around her, so long that it would have naturally fallen to her waist if it had been free to do so.

His winds shattered through other buildings, sweeping the grass flat, hurling expensive fountains into the air. The more modern ones came with a look of glass about them, allowing those within to see out but those outside not to see in, and he cracked them with glee, even as he fucked the woman, making love to her in the only way a storm god knew how.

Atemisk was who he was and he was not to apologise for that, no, not in the slightest, not as he howled and filled her, slamming deep, again and again, tendrils wrapped around her as the rest of him sucked lives out of the city, claiming them for himself.

And, when he did finally pull out of her, having staked his claim, his winds flowed into the sky again, pummelling through every mansion in the hills and sweeping back through the city, just to make sure every last building had been crushed down into dust. Even the underground train system, the subway, fell prey to him, ripping up the tracks and decimating all that those smaller lives had built.

He may well have been part of them, once, but that was not anymore. The time had come to leap ahead of the station he had taken on as a human, playing the part of one, claiming and sucking up their bodies and lives, spinning them within his storm.

As the hurricane raged and he flattened the city on a cataclysmic scale that had never been seen before, he roared out his triumph, bellowing through the howling blast of winds, lust in his heart.

Everything came through…in the pleasure of the storm.