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The smell of sulfur, blood, crushed bones, and old vellum fills the room's atmosphere. Thin candles delineate the summoning circle brimming with life and energy. Purple ink, a mix of blood with dye, stains the wooden floor. Circle, pentacles, words, symbols, each part is the result of delicate work.

Each serves one purpose as the dye and blood react to the magic and allow the conjuration and potential binding of an extra-planar summon. Of a creature, potentially from the twisting nether.

“So soon, what has gotten into you?" asks the deep voice from the creature standing in the current circle.

The green fire he possesses instead of eyes, the sunken traits, the lipless and toothy mouth, the natural scorn.

The leathery purple skin, the sinewy muscles, the fixed stance, the haughty attitude from someone much taller.

The black metal plates of his helmet, the harness, the skull-shaped belt, the skirt that barely conceals what he possesses.

The Eredar stands and flashes his canine teeth at his summoner. Only a few would dare summon him, inviting a Wrathguard Lord onto their plane. His weapons have been left behind, but magic courses through his green veins. This is a power calling for release within that cramped laboratory filled with shelves, books, pestles and mortars, and alchemical compounds.

Occupied by that human.

An old human with graying hair departing from the top of his head to migrate to the mutton chops on his creased face. The golden eyes glance at the Eredar while a smile draws on those thin lips, unveiling used teeth and golden facsimiles.

“It has been two years already," comments the human, fumbling with his purple robe. A cord is crudely cinched it above his shoulders, clasping the cloth and maintaining it. But once undone, it reveals the simplicity of a mortal's body: a pinkish skin covering those pectorals and that plump belly, the same as the arms and wide legs. The same gray hair is peppering that torso and following a long line descending to the human's groin.

There. Is. The human's “main" organ, an elongated ten-inch shaft pulsating with a foreign vitality. Blood surges within it, delineated by the numerous veins beneath the skin, while the foreskin is pulled and unveiled by the regular throbs. Beneath remains the mushroom tip, clearer than the foreskin with its rubicund color.

“Two years is nothing for us. I have barely had time to deal with the last of your creations," comments the Eredar with a dismissive attitude complimented by the fall of metal.

[I]CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

[/I]The pieces drop and bounce, hitting one another, while the plates are removed and the body unveiled. The same sinewy muscles support a body made for war… However, the surprise exists in the demon's groin, standing almost at the human's head level. Atop of it is drawn… No, is etched a symbol of fertility befitting primitive societies and yet imbued with the green fire of the fel magic.

Below stands a sheath, its folds promising the perfume of demonic musk. Profusing from the flared tip at the center of the fold is the greenish precum the creature produces, a fluid as dazzling as charged with magic. It drops, oozes, moves, and slips over the sheath to follow gravity's course.

It descends, shifts, and then drops onto the Demon's enormous gonads. Round orbs, their presence release a heat even the human could feel despite the distance. The scrotum clenches, as resilient as leather, yet branded by the same symbols ornating the Demon's lower belly. Swirls, lines, and effusions of ornaments and symbols cover the two testicles.

Testicles the human picks up as if it were nothing, stepping inside the circle and scuffing it on the same occasion.

“Our creations, you mean," retorts the human, pushing against the weight of each organ he held in his palms; they are heavy, and lifting them requires more strength than it seems. They are boulders, sloshing and full.

“Our creations," admits the Demon with a sigh while the glow on his gonads increases in intensity from the contact with the caster. “Are we in for another session?"

“Yes. Do not tell me you will refuse it this time?" says the caster, a smirk forming on his lipless mouth. One echoed by the Wrathguard.

“Not at all. I am enjoying our little moments. What is your price?"

In a precarious position, the Wrathguard groans and whispers, his lungs filling with air not sullied with fel and sulfur. One he can enjoy as much as desired, inhaling the perfume from the human. Touches of sandalwood, it seems.

“Ten more years. And another inch, for your pleasure."

“My pleasure, of course," laughs the Eredar while his shaft slowly pushes out of its sheath, oozing over the dirty wood and circle. Its girth is magnificent, its flat and flared end making the organ look closer to a mace. Veins underline its size, too, with a thickness they can be stroked like other parts of his anatomy. Finally, its median pushes along, dragging the tip out to a length of… 6 inches. Potentially less, exactitude doesn't have precedence.

“Your greed will one day spell your doom," comments the Wrathguard with a gasp, his fingers descending on his cock. With his massive hand, he can't hold it in his palm… Rather, he has to dedicate three fingers to it, to stroke it while he kneels, slowly to descend to the human level.

“Yes, yes, same as your lust. Do we agree?"

“Yes."

How this human came to know about the Lord Iterex's needs, about the Wrathguard's unfulfilled and shameful desires, he was and is not able to tell. One day, Iterex was summoned and propounded a sort of contract. Something that would satisfy the needs of both parties without leaving one yearning. The terms were clear, crystal even.

So much so that they each bear a part of the contract. Iterex on his belly, the caster… Inside his anal orifice.

A detail none would know unless they had a hand in it. But no, this is a secret.

One secret both are keen on keeping for themselves as their mouths meet. On one side is the scent of magic, sulfur, power, and flesh. On the other is the scent of mead, meal, perfume, and alchemical preparations.

Their salivas mix and merge within their mouths, coat their tongues, and smear them with that rough and cloying taste. Remains of the kiss the translucent droplets at the corner of Iterex's mouth while he leans back, still on his knees. He is at the human's level, yet he lowers his loins more.

“What do you think of eight, this time?" asks the mage, his voice giving away his excitation while he lasciviously strokes his dick. With one hand, he cannot even hope to cover half of the mast, yet rubs it and pulls on the precum-coated foreskin.

“Nine… I want to feel them," groans the Wrathguard as the human's breath gets closer to his flared dick.

With one hand down, it's with the other the warlock touches the Demon's shaft and, without warning, inserts two fingers within the swollen urethra. The orifice is soft, moist, and filled with many fluids that make it tacky. More than that, with the many penetrations, the opening looks closer to a vulva. Even the corners have swollen, forming two little mounds on the sides of the meatus.

The pink fingers pull and tug, then scissors, while the Demon above lets out a groan of envy and need…. Next, a flow of greenish precum drips out and falls on the ground, marking its scent on the wood floor.

“Hrmphh. Is it necessary?"

“I must check if I'll hurt you," retorts the human with a heaving breath.

“This unnecessary; we don't have all the day!"

The demon scowls, but the human gives in by pulling out his fingers. Droplets of greenish fluids follow, tracing a long line before he lowers his digits on his dick. With both hands and Iterex adjusting his groin's position, the human has nothing to do but approach. Steady, his broad tip nears from the meatus.

The heat, the scent, the pressure, he can feel it. And then more as he pushed his tip within the gaping orifice. He growls, whispers, exhales… But his tip slides inside the Demon's urethra and bulges from within.

Without watching, the warlock knows how the underside of that equine dick bulges out to the form of his manhood. And the further he pushes, the closer he gets to the Demon's primed organs.

“Deeper," groans… No, orders Iterex with his claws shredding the wooden planks. A shiver shakes his groin, revealing his desires and lust. Similar to the Warlock, drooling and heaving.

His mouth waters at the vision, admiring the pulsating tattoo etched on the Wrathguard's belly and imagining it pulsating the same on the testicles… or within his body.

A pulse united by two individuals of different origins and sizes. A pulse that stoles quivers and huffs from the human as he pushes and feeds off another inch to the Demon's shaft… Which seems to throb with more intensity and heat up.

The difference in length between the two is prominent, with most of the Demon's shaft bulging from the penetration. And yet, only a portion of the Human's shaft has been fitted in it. A large portion, certainly, but not its entirety when the cocktip rubs against the Demon's inner reaches.

“Deeper," says Iterex through his grit teeth. The green fire in the guise of eyes has been extinguished, almost as if he had closed his eyelids. His gaunt expression is rigid, his jaw tight. But the human continues.

He pushes further, nudging the slight rim that notes the entrance of the demon's modified prostate. He forces and… Slides in.

“YES!" gloats the Demon, his body trembling with delight and his claws digging further. Before him, the human keeps ramming and guiding his dick. Before him, he sees that old face contract and clench as much as his. They are bound, attached, and linked by the pleasure they experience in one another.

In an instant, Iterex feels his dick being stretched wide and his battered prostate open up, contort and adapt. On the other, he feels the human's dick constrained by the inner walls, by the gland fighting against the invasion and attempting to spurt more green precum out.

Intermingled, their sensations swirl and dance while the Demon's dick keeps heating up and throbbing… And seems shorter.

Just an inch less, just another inch, the human wins over through his thrust and touch.

“Deeper, Warlock," hisses the Demon, throwing his head back so much his fused helmet threatens to slip too. He hisses while biting his tongue, unable to resist the crescendo of pulses going through his spine.

He bites, claws, clutches. He opposes those sensations that threaten him as more of that human shaft is forced inside, enjoining the Demon to reshape his body. Soon, the entirety of that mast would be inside… And he has to accommodate it.

No… He must do it for his pleasure.

A pleasure… A pleasure that unites them, their marks glowing brighter and hotter by the second. His testicles clench, the swirls on them giving off their sickly luminescence. His lower belly shines as he's about to feel his orgasm, and the Human's, too.

Should he give in, the human would, too. But then, what about their pact? What about their offer?

“DEEPER!" he roars, his order heeded and answered. A thrust, a push, and Iterex senses the human's pubes rubbing his flared tip, and the depths of his organ adapt to the Human…

In a sigh, a whisper, a groan, his clawed hands reached for the Human's head to make him lean and press him against his chest as he, they cum.

In unison, the prostates contract, the groins flare up, and the scrotums clench. But only one ejaculation proceeds as white and clear cum pours from the Human's urethra right into the Demon's prostate and overfills it.

Soon, the overfilling tantalizes them both and overtakes their sensations while their legs and arms tremble. But no one moves. The semen pours deeper, swirls, shifts, then descends…

The flow continues and grows even. It is a tidal wave, erasing traces of the Demon's fluids as it plunges and ends within the massive leathery testicles. Their sizes, impressive before, nonetheless augment. They slosh, they swing, they sway.

More than that, the skin is taut from the sudden increase. From hanging loosely, the testicles' masses get them higher and closer to the Demon's groin until they form two rounds and impressive orbs that would easily hinder his movements.

Two orbs that glimmer like two suns, suffusing their heat, pleasure, and sensations through the Demon's body. Henceforth, through the human's shaky body, too.

“Hah… This was good, human," hisses the Demon, stroking that glabrous skin with clawed fingers.

His, their orgasms have receded, leaving their bodies sore from that primal union. Yet, their union is still there, their malehoods joined in a tight embrace, a kiss, a solemn proof of their pact that unites their bloodline.

“How many there are?" asks Iterex, his husky voice followed by a rumbling sigh.

“Nine, at least," answers the human, his knees threatening to drop despite the vitality infused in him and his blood. A blood that would grow greener, influenced by the Fel as time goes on.

“Nine…" mumbles the Demon, thoughtfully looking at the ceiling above.

“No," answers back the human, unwilling to give in to the musing of the Wrathguard. The moment has been propitious, but giving in…

His body nonetheless tense, stimulated by the sensation of Iterex's prostate contracting and, in return, the squeeze given to his prostate.

“Are you certain?" retorts the Demon, offering a sharp smile to the Human. “You got what you wanted. But a few more wouldn't hurt."

To complement this, he lowers his digit from the human's hand onto his lower belly… Then his bulging and veiny dick. He forces him to stroke the folds, sense the tension within them, then descend… To the testicles.

The Human's semen has filled them, swollen them. They slosh from Fel-corrupted and Human semen alike, joined and joining. Soon, the fluids will coalesce through the magic, and an egg will form. Then another. Then another. Until Iterex has no choice but to lay them like a good… Hen, like the mortals say?

He chuckles at the thought, giving the taut skin a caress. He feels it, hence the human should feel it, too. And soon, the Warlock, too, would be bound to the sensation of that ungodly pregnancy.

“Fine. But no more than six," the bald human answers, scowling. Even though both know he's enjoying it to its fullest. For the moment, they remain joined. But in a moment, their union will continue… Until one of the two gives up. And the insatiable Iterex won't admit defeat.