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Chapter Text

For the first time in centuries, she stirred.

…before me…

She heard a faint voice from somewhere far beyond her eternal realm. Still half-asleep, she couldn’t think of where it came from. When it occurred to her, she grinned to herself.

“A summoning!” She laughed.

No mortal had called upon her aid for a long time. She had tired of waiting and gone to sleep, but now it seemed the mortal realm had finally returned to the old ways.

She sat up and stretched her six arms as she spread her mighty wings. Every one of her thirty fingers flexed, the vicious brass claws at the end of each one shining as brightly as ever. She reached her upper arms out to touch her iron horns and felt that they were presentable. The golden ornaments that hung from them displayed her rank and power. All with the knowledge to summon her would know they marked her as a Princess of Hell. Her perfect breasts hung heavy and pendulous from her chest but had maintained their full and attractive shape in the intervening eons. Her twin penises hung just below them, thick, erect, and banded with rings of purest gold. As a demon of lust and virility, she was perpetually hard and ready to grant a boon to all who summoned her.

She flexed her legs and felt her hoofed feet collide with something unexpected. She pulled her breasts apart with her middle pair of arms and moved her cocks aside with the lower pair so she could see what lay beneath her. Her confident beauty was spoiled somewhat by a look of total astonishment. Her balls had swollen as she slept. Unable to dispense her blessings during her long rest, her royal testicles had filled and grown to contain her blessings.

“This won’t do,” she hissed.

She raised two of her hands to summon a legion of succubi to tend to her needs but was interrupted as a voice from beyond her realm rang out again. It was stronger and more commanding this time.

I summon thee, Bashan, to appear before me!

She felt a pull and knew she couldn’t resist. The terms of the contract had been met, and she was bound to appear before the conjurer. The scents of incense and fragrant oils invaded her chamber. A gold dish filled with milk and a gold platter covered with fruit and freshly butchered meat atop a bed of yarrow flowers appeared beside her bed. The sacrifices were arriving, which meant she would be forced into the mortal world in a moment.

“Ugh, this is mortifying,” she whined. “At least let me put my face on first.”

She felt herself unceremoniously dragged out of her palace and into the noise and light of the mortal realm. Squinting in the unnaturally bright light, she saw a dim shadow moving in front of her. It looked like a rather tall and skinny male, but she was no good at telling male and female apart when it came to humans. Both were equally shapeless and boring in her opinion. She rose to her feet, or tried, and realized she was pinned by her massive testes. They spread out beneath her and made it impossible to stand without treading on them, so she remained in a reclining position. Done correctly, he would see her as imperious and haughty rather than helpless. Mortals were easy to fool and easier still to frighten.

“Who has summoned a Princess of Hell?”

“ Princess ?”

The mortal sounded incensed and confused. He had clearly expected something else. Bashan sighed and rolled her eyes. This was hardly the first time this had happened. Due to mortals’ narrow and pitiful understanding of the demonic sexes, plenty of mortals working with a badly translated manuscript expected her to be a Prince of Hell. Why mortals thought a little thing like a pair of cocks made her a man, she would never understand. 

“Did I screw up the conjuring?”

“No,” Bashan groaned, offended and annoyed by her first exposure to humanity in centuries. “You did everything right and got exactly who you asked for.”

“Liar!” The man shouted. “You won’t fool me. What are you, really? A succubus? Some sort of cambion?”

“I,” Bashan roared, bracing herself on all three of her right arms and sitting up a bit. “Am Bashan! Princess of Hell, Empress of the Iron Hall of Dis, First Consort of the Morning Star, and Slaker of Lust! Do not presume to insult me , mortal!”

Her gigantic balls twitched, producing a loud gurgling sound as her cocks produced twin spurts of colorless fluid. It splattered over the mortal’s floor and walls, sizzling and steaming with demonic heat. A strange, black, cubic object she could only assume was some new sort of alchemical device let off bright sparks of light upon contact with her royal emissions. She restrained herself from cursing the fool, as that would be a breach of contract and the Shining One would not be pleased. Great as she was, she had to defer to her Lord and Master’s command. In truth, she was His second consort, but they didn’t speak of the first or what she had done to displease Him so.

“The scribes were wrong, then?” The mortal said, his voice laced with barely controlled terror. “You are the Bashan?”

“Yes,” she snarled. “And if you make me repeat myself again, I will boil you alive in my very own seed.”

She could do no such thing, of course, but she hoped he didn’t know that. He had seen how hot her blessings burned within her. For the first time, he seemed to realize that she wasn’t just a pretty face. His gaze dropped below her breasts for the first time and fell upon the throbbing, gurgling masses of her testicles and the twin penises twitching in the cool air of the human world.

“What sort of demon are you?” He asked. “I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“You haven’t summoned a lot of demons, then, have you?” Bashan snapped. “Beelzebub himself has tits twice the size of mine, but you wouldn’t dare call him a woman. Why should you call me a man? Baal has given birth to countless spawn; would you call him a woman?”

“I’ve never heard of anything like this in my life.”

He sounded surprised. Shocked, even. She narrowed her icy blue eyes at him and tapped her claws against the floor.

“Just how misinformed are the conjurers in your world these days? How could you expect a demon to fit into mortal ideas of what is masculine and what is feminine? We defy the Creator at every turn, you fool.”

The man sat down and looked at her as if his entire life had been a lie.

“What is it you want?” She demanded of him. “Despite your laughable ignorance, you managed to summon the likes of me, so consider yourself most fortunate.”

She considered herself just as fortunate. Humanity had grown so ignorant of her appearance that the man would never know that she was in a somewhat vulnerable state. If she could fulfill her side of the contract and return to the Iron Halls, she could have the succubi tend to her. She would have them milk her until she returned to a more natural state, then punish the indolent witches for failing to perform their duties while she slept.

“I hoped to learn more about sorcery,” the man said, looking just as lost as ever. “But now I’m wondering if my books were wrong about all of that as well.”

He looked around at the mess Bashan had made and saw the strange thing she had taken for an alchemical device coated in her viscous fluids.

“My computer…”

“On that note, I can offer some assistance,” Bashan said.

She rolled over and configured herself so the lower half of her legs and her cloven hooves could rest on top of her testicles as she leaned back against the wall. She hoped she looked relaxed, rather than immobilized.

“But if that’s what you wish of me, I require a more substantial sacrifice than the initial ones that summoned me here. Nothing is given freely, you know.”

“What do you want?”

She grinned, showing every one of her sharp teeth, and crossed her legs over her balls. Whether he knew what he was getting into or not, this was going to be exciting.

“Tell me, mortal, are you familiar with the Iron Bull’s Rite?”

He seemed to think it over for a moment and then shook his head.

“Are you a part of a proper coven, or a lone practitioner?”

“I used to be part of a sort of coven, I guess,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I left. They seemed to be more of a social club for sexual deviants than real witches.”

He looked uncomfortable talking about it for some reason, and Bashan licked her lips. Mortals were such idiots. Sexual congress was the key to plenty of arcane arts, especially among the demons that moved in her particular circles. Knowledge was offered in exchange for physical gratification, and—very occasionally—mortals were so greedy that an opportunity to bring a proper avatar into the world presented itself. Bashan hadn’t had one of those to play with since before Gilgamesh made a name for himself.

“Were the women in this coven of passable beauty?” She asked. “Or are you referring to a circle of crones?”

“There were some pretty good-looking women in the group,” the man said with a faraway look in his eye. “I thought I might have had a chance with one of them at one point.”

Bashan’s eyes gleamed as she gripped her one cock in her middle left hand and the other in her lower right one. She massaged her breasts with two other hands until a trickle of milk ran from each nipple. She ran the fingers of her upper hands through her hair and dragged the sharp brass talons over the skin of her face. Once she had luxuriated in the pleasure for a moment, she began to instruct him in the preparations for her rites.

“I will require two human females, both of childbearing age, and preferably younger than thirty. Both must be reasonably attractive, and I prefer the curvaceous type, just so you know. Should you find a pair that meet my standards, we can carry out my rite. Upon its completion, I will grant you a proper book of sorcery.”

A spurt of milk sprayed from her left nipple and she let out a short moan before biting her lower lip. She released one of her shafts and crooked a talon at him before returning it to stroke herself once more. The man nervously approached her, avoiding her enormous balls as they churned and spread out over the floor. A small dribble of precum was leaking from the tips of both of her cocks now, though it didn’t seem to be superheated like the earlier blasts that had made a mess of his room and ruined his computer.

“Sup at my breast, mortal,” she commanded. “And let us make a covenant together.”

She continued to knead at her breast and felt the milk running hot and fast down her chest to pool on the floor. She felt his lips clamp down onto her nipple and latch there, then he began to drink. She smiled wickedly, leaning her head back as her demonic seed and milk flowed out of her body in streams as endless as the river Styx.

Some time later, the man left to retrieve a pair of women that were suited for the rite. Though she had slept for so long, the summoning had woken her up before she was ready, and the travel between the realms had left her drained. Spending time in the human world always wore her down, so she allowed herself to sleep in the mortal’s home for a while. She was perfectly safe, of course. The covenant that now bound them together would keep him from trying to harm her in any way, and no other mortal possessed the protection from her wrath that the summoning granted him.

She awoke when he returned. She could sense someone was with him now, and she stirred from her rest, raising her head from the floor. She could hear voices, one lower one and two higher ones.

Has he returned with the women? She thought, licking her lips in anticipation. So soon? I must commend him for that.

“Where is she, John?” One of the higher voices said.

“I swear, if this is a prank or some wild trick to get us to sleep with you, I’ll hex you,” another voice threatened.

“Just head into my bedroom.”

That was the man’s voice. So his name was John. It seemed rather old-fashioned, but who was she to judge? Bashan sat up and unwrapped her wings from around her body. She wanted to be on full display when the mortals walked through. They needed to see her in all her demonic glory. She spread her enormous, batlike wings to help find her balance and planted her cloven hooves on the floor just above her scrotum, forcing herself to stand. Her balls still rested heavily on the floor below her, but she was at least on her feet. She assumed an imposing and dominant pose, clasping her lower wrists behind her back, crossing her middle arms beneath her breasts, and spreading her upper arms out to present herself to all who looked upon her. Her twin cocks twitched and drooled precum onto her testicles, and it ran slowly down to the floor. Her wings fanned out behind her, the blood-red membranes forming a translucent backdrop.

When the bedroom door opened and the two young women walked in, their eyes widened in shock. On her feet and including her horns, Bashan was well over seven feet tall, so they had to tilt their heads back to take in her full majesty. She smiled down at them, licking her long fangs and relishing their stunned looks of congealed terror and awe. The man stepped into the room behind them and closed the door. Bashan did him a favor and magically sealed it so that no one could leave the room until she deemed it appropriate. She intended to carry out the Iron Bull’s Rite that very night. The females were plush and fertile, and they met her standards well enough.

The shorter one had broad childbearing hips, breasts that were shapely if not very large, and a sweet face. She would make an excellent vessel for her avatar. The other, with her bountiful bosom and sturdy build, would serve as a suitable nursemaid. Their efforts combined would see to it that her avatar grew to be strong and capable until such times as she returned to inhabit them. Mankind would soon remember the terror and glory of a demon incarnate walking among them.

“I’ve brought them, Lady Bashan,” the man said.

“You’ve done well, John ,” she intoned, putting significant emphasis on his name.

He winced when he heard her use it, but she could do little more with it than make him feel uncomfortable. Humans maintained a lot of superstition about their names, but there wasn’t any real power to them. Every mortal was obsessed with their own importance, as if at least two or three others didn’t share the same one at any given time.

“These will do nicely.”

“What’s going on, John?” The taller woman demanded. “You mean you actually managed to summon this… thing ?”

“Tread lightly, mortal,” Bashan said, not really insulted but intent on playing with them all the same. “You are in the presence of infernal royalty.”

The shorter one was still staring at her dual cocks. Each of Bashan’s thick-veined members were thicker than her arm and nearly as long. They continuously twitched and leaked precum onto the floor and her own gargantuan testicles.

“She’s beautiful …” She whispered.

“Marie?” The taller one spun on her friend, confused and uncertain. “What are you talking about?”

“This one has manners,” Bashan quipped to John, pointing to Marie with one gleaming brass claw. “Marie, is it?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the shorter woman said as she gave a small bow.

“Your Highness, actually,” Bashan corrected, smirking in self-satisfaction. “There is only one King of Hell, and He shares power with no one .”

“We should begin the rite,” John said. “I’ve held up my end of the bargain.”

“Bargain?” The taller woman growled. “You’ve sold us to this monstrosity, haven’t you? I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you, you—”

“Silence!” Bashan roared, spreading her wings wider and standing to her full height.

The walls seemed to draw inward, shrinking the room as she filled more space than any human could have managed. Her fierce blue eyes seemed to shimmer as the lights went dim. She looked at Marie and her friend

“You are witches, are you not?” She demanded of them. “Blonde one, what is your name?”

The taller woman looked insulted to be spoken of like a piece of meat at a butcher’s shop, but Marie spoke up for her.

“Her name is Grace, Your Highness. And yes, we are witches, though we’re novices at best.”

“Then you should be honored to serve a true demon, should you not? There was a time when women would have given their very souls to treat with one such as I.”

Grace chewed her lip and looked like she wanted to make a run for it, but Marie’s eyes lit up. She nodded and dropped to her knees.

“Tell us what you wish of us, Your Highness. I swear we will meet your every demand.”

“Marie! Don’t you remember what Demeter said about dealing with demons?”

“Whatever she said, it was more than likely bad advice,” Bashan said, rolling her eyes. “This one could barely pull off a summoning, and certainly had no idea of the forces he was toying with.”

Grace looked more uncomfortable and unsure than ever, and Bashan could tell her resolve was wavering. The woman’s mind would break in the face of a superior being such as herself. She was terrified, and fear was the easiest emotion to mold into loyalty.

“Your friend here, John, has summoned more than he bargained for,” Bashan said. “But I have deigned to enter into a covenant with him. In exchange for the knowledge he so desires, he has agreed to bring me what I need to complete a ritual that will increase my power and influence in your world; an event witches such as yourself should welcome with open arms.”

The women’s eyes were as wide as saucers, though for entirely different reasons. Marie was envisioning a world in which she was a loyal servant to an all-powerful demoness, while Grace feared the apocalyptic destruction of everything she had ever known.

“You need not fear me,” Bashan said, leaning closer to Grace. “Demons such as I see your world as a sort of…playground. We would never destroy such a wondrous place. We merely wish to experience it for a time.”

Grace flashed a nervous smile, then let out a shout of disgust as one of Bashan’s cocks leaked a gob of precum onto her foot.

“How rude,” Bashan said, standing up and eyeing the mortals with a haughty expression. “John, you are to draw the circle. We’ll begin the rite when you finish.”

“What circle?” He asked.

No sooner had the words left his lips than Bashan put out her three left hands and transferred the required knowledge directly to his mind. He looked stunned for a moment and then dropped to his knees, seizing a nearby piece of chalk and drawing a complex magic circle around Bashan and the women with incredible speed. The complicated geometric shapes, esoteric glyphs, and runic inscriptions flowed from his mind as his hand moved as if he had practiced them thousands of times before.

“It’s done,” he said a moment later.

Grace and Marie looked at him in awe.

“How did you—”

“Excellent,” Bashan interrupted. “Remove your clothes.”

She pointed to the mortals with her upper hands and gripped her cocks with the lower ones, alternating the left and right in a perfectly syncopated pattern. Her middle hands reached out, prepared to strip the women by force if they failed to comply. The brightly shining claws glinted in the artificial light, and she considered for the first time just how much humanity had discovered since she had last walked among them. Bottled lightning was no mean feat.

Marie slipped the loose dress from her shoulders and removed her underwear. Grace was more hesitant, but she saw the threatening claws move closer and disrobed as quickly as she could manage. She stood bare-breasted in the cool air. It was hardly the first time they had been naked in the presence of other people; they were witches after all and had taken part in more than a few rituals. Still, Grace felt uncomfortable whenever she caught sight of Bashan’s immense and inhuman genitalia. If she was a she , why did she have a penis, let alone two? They certainly didn’t look anything like a man’s. They were misshapen and rose-colored, like something she would expect to see on an animal.

“You,” Bashan said, pointing to Marie with one claw. “Are to serve as the Matron. Do you accept my blessing and swear to remain loyal to me from this day forward?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Marie said without question. “It is an honor to serve you.”

She was deferential in a way Bashan had thought long forgotten. She hadn’t seen such respect from a mortal since the days she spent with the Druidic circles. Simpler, happier times for her kind. She turned to Grace, fixing her with her gaze. The tall, blonde woman found herself somehow compelled to look up into the icy blue of Bashan’s eyes.

“You,” Bashan intoned. “Are to serve as Nursemaid. You will attend my servant and ensure she delivers my blessing at the appointed time, serving them in turn. In exchange for these services, you will each have health, youth, and longevity the likes of which few have ever enjoyed before you. Your enemies will grow old, weak, and infirm, and you will remain strong and beautiful. Are the terms acceptable?”

Grace’s face lit up like never before, and Marie looked ecstatic. They nodded and spoke in unison.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good,” Bashan said, releasing her shafts and dragging her massive balls along as she stepped back to lean against a wall. “Come forward and know pleasure.”

Marie stepped forward first, but Grace was hot on her heels. They both walked around Bashan’s expansive scrotum and stood before her. Bashan sat down and held each of her shafts in a pair of hands, leaving her uppermost arms unoccupied for the moment. Marie felt instinct take over, and she positioned herself above Bashan’s monstrous cock. She suddenly felt herself grow wet and moaned as a lust the likes of which she had never known burned white hot in her chest. She spread her legs and impaled herself on the demon’s twitching member. It spread her cunt wide, filling it like it had never been filled before. She let out a squealing whine as her legs spasmed and she slipped down, taking more than half of the two-foot-long shaft into her body. Her navel visibly distended as her vaginal canal stretched and deformed to contain its immensity.

Somehow, despite the mind-altering sensations she was experiencing, she managed to reach out and grip Bashan’s other penis. She drew it close to her chest, pressing it between her meager breasts and licking it as she planted her feet and began to bounce up and down. She moaned and babbled insanely, determined to serve Bashan to the best of her ability. The demon smiled and let out a soft chuckle as she pulled the cock not buried up to Marie’s cervix away from her.

“That is not your responsibility,” she told her. “It’s yours. ”

She turned to address Grace, gesturing for her to approach.

“You will aid the Matron, but the blessing is to remain outside of your womb. Do you understand?”

Grace nodded. With considerable hesitation, she reached out to touch the thick shaft. She wasn’t sure how to manage something so much larger than she was used to. She had spent plenty of time in bed with men, but this was far beyond anything a mere human could possess. She felt one of Bashan’s clawed hands grip the back of her head, and she was forced to collide face-first with her cock an instant later.

“Get to work ,” Bashan hissed. “Surely you don’t need me to teach you how to please a demon?”

Grace felt something like a thunderstorm inside of her skull and understood what to do in a sudden flash of insight. Bashan released her as she extended her tongue and licked the shaft from base to tip. She drew a circle around her urethra with the tip of her tongue before slipping it inside. Then she pressed her tits together and worked them up and down with her hands, titfucking as much of the impossibly thick cock as she could manage. Bashan moaned, pleased with their efforts, and decided to release the first blessing of the rite a bit early. As pent up as she was after her long respite, it seemed appropriate.

Marie gasped as she felt something hot beginning to fill her from within. She put her hands to her belly and looked down to see it swelling before her eyes. Her navel bloated up, slowly overtaking the rest of her abdomen as the cavity filled with demon seed. She let out a strangled shout as her body began to shake with an orgasm so powerful every muscle in her body clenched tight. She gritted her teeth, and her breasts, hands, and feet shook bonelessly as a heavy stream of cum forced its way out of her. It squirted out of the imperfect seal made by her labia and Bashan’s cock with enough pressure to hit the floor and splatter upward. It hit John, who was still standing to one side, looking stunned and confused.

“Come to me, John,” Bashan ordered. “The rite requires that I both give and receive pleasure.”

He stepped forward, and she grabbed him by one arm, pulling him to her like a ragdoll. She sat him on her chest and leaned forward to take his throbbing manhood into her mouth. He let out a gasp of surprise that shifted into a moan of pleasure as she snaked her long tongue around his shaft and formed a tight seal with her lips. It was the best blowjob he would ever experience.

She decided then that it was time for the second release. She clenched her testicles and felt her semen flow up to her second cock. Grace let out a shout as she was drenched in steaming infernal cum. Her skin felt pleasantly warm wherever it touched her, and her body tingled in a way she ordinarily experienced only in the throes of ecstasy. She didn’t understand how she could have reached orgasm without any real stimulation, but she found it agreeable. She let the demonic emissions rain down upon her, rubbing it into the skin of her face, chest, arms, and legs. She avoided her most intimate area, however, remembering what Bashan had said about keeping her seed outside of her body.

Eventually, Bashan tired of that configuration. She popped John’s pitiful cock out of her mouth and demanded that Marie and Grace switch. She helped Grace lift Marie off of her penis with a few of her spare arms, and a torrent of cum sprayed out of her gaping pussy as her womb contracted itself in a bid to reduce the pressure within it. Bashan gave her a moment to catch her breath and then sat her right back down on her other cock. Marie screamed as orgasmic bliss overtook her all over again. Meanwhile, Grace took over tending to her other penis, licking it clean and rubbing between her breasts.

Once she was satisfied with their new positions, Bashan enacted the second phase of the rite. She let out a small pulse of demonic energy, just enough to alter her new servants a bit. To start, she turned her attention to John. His disappointing manhood was hardly enough to excite her, so she decided to enhance it a bit. It swelled between her lips and slowly crept further into her mouth. Once that was done, with John none the wiser in his brain-shattering state of bliss, she moved on to Grace.

The busty blonde went on with her task, eyes closed as she licked and sucked as much of Bashan’s cock as she could manage. Her breasts began to grow larger, slowly and imperceptibly at first. The process gathered speed as they swelled larger, and eventually she seemed to sense something was different as she put a hand to her chest. She looked down and let out a gasp, then looked up to Bashan, who pointedly ignored her. If she had been in her right mind at the time, she may have been more concerned that her F-cups had nearly doubled in size. As it was, her mind was overloaded with thoughts of pleasuring the demon and being pleasured in turn. She would have a long and healthy life to grow more accustomed to her larger chest if what Bashan had told her was true. The power of unbridled lust in the bedroom kept her from dwelling on anything for long. She returned to her duties, gripping her enlarged breasts and putting them to work. They were now large enough to encompass the entirety of Bashan’s shaft, and that was all that mattered to her then.

As Bashan turned her powers upon Marie, she considered a few different enhancements for the woman who would one day serve as her gateway back into the mortal realm. To start, she enlarged her breasts, but far less than she had for Grace. They swelled rapidly, growing from formerly modest B-cups to pert and almost unnaturally round DDs. Then she enacted the second change, widening her already generous hips and expanding her ass until even Bashan’s own succubi would be envious. Finally, she made a more subtle change to her womanhood. A normal woman would have been ruined forever after receiving her royal blessing, but she wanted to ensure that her servant could enjoy the fruits of her labors for years to come. To facilitate that, she granted her labia and vaginal canal superhuman elasticity. Now, when Bashan was finished with her, her body would slowly snap back into its usual shape. For the rest of her unnaturally long life, she would enjoy the advantages of a tight and youthful sex.

They continued with the rite into the wee hours of the morning. Bashan eventually got onto all fours to allow John to fill her own holes, placing Marie and Grace beneath her. Throughout the many blessings she granted to Marie and Grace, her testicles never seemed to shrink in the least. She began to think the only way to reduce them would be to take part in a true orgy and redoubled her resolve to make use of every succubus within her palace once she returned.

Finally, as the light of the morning sun began to bleed over the horizon, the rite was completed. Marie was gasping and practically catatonic, her belly swollen and heavy with Bashan’s blessing. She could already sense that her new avatar was quickening inside of her. Grace lay on her back, her enlarged chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath following hours of pleasuring whichever of Bashan’s cocks wasn’t occupied with Marie. Her hair and skin were encrusted with multiple coats of dried cum. John, meanwhile, lay sleeping to one side, having long since spent the last of his energy attempting to pleasure Bashan’s anus.

All in all, it had been a pleasant visit, but she knew it was time for her to go. When the time was right, in a mere seven years, she would return to her servants through her link with her avatar. Then they could begin the work of forming a proper coven to pay tribute to the Shining One. If all went according to plan, He would be so pleased with her that He would call upon her to His court. It had been so long since she had spent time in His presence, and she longed to feel His touch again.

“You…nursemaid…”

Bashan’ struggled to remember the blonde woman’s name. It had been many hours since it had been used by any of them.

“Grace!” She barked once she hit upon it. “I have a simple task for you.”

The woman stirred, lifting herself onto her elbows. Her breasts reoriented themselves slightly but remained impossibly high on her chest as if in mockery of the laws of gravity. Bashan snapped her fingers, and a large grimoire bound in black leather appeared beside her. She snatched it from the air and handed it to Grace.

“You are to give this to John when he wakes up,” she said, awkwardly stepping around her balls. “I must return to my palace to…tend to a few important matters. If you attempt to deceive him and keep the book to yourself, I will know, and you will be punished most severely.”

She smiled wickedly down at the woman, who nodded.

“So I would advise you not to do that. With that, I must take my leave. Give my love to Marie when she wakes up, and see that John receives his reward. This has been a most fortuitous meeting, despite his ignorant meddling with forces outside of his control.”

She took one last deep breath of the mortal realm. The room smelled of sex, just the sort of thing a demon of lust enjoyed above all else. Though the intervening years would pass in the blink of an eye, she couldn’t wait to return in a more permanent incarnation.

Chapter Text

In a world so close to our own that our very words are carried upon its winds, she raged.

“That loathsome pretender has a what ?”

The demonic scribe ducked as his princess threw a solid gold idol of herself at his head. He felt a sharp pain at the tip of his twisted horn as it chipped the iron-capped point off and continued to sail through the emptiness. It only stopped when it collided with one of the large mosaics lining the Hall of the Void. Both the idol and the tiny tiles that made up the focal point of the mosaic were reduced to iridescent powder. The princess let out another loud shriek of rage and spread her vast wings.

“An avatar, Your Highness,” the scribe shouted over her screams and roars.

He experimentally touched the end of his chipped horn and winced as his fingers came away smeared with silvery demon’s blood. It would take months for that to heal, and then he would have to have it recapped in iron as a sign of his lowly office. Unpleasant all around.

“Princess Bashan, First Consort—”

The enraged devil spun on him and cut him off.

“I know her title, fool!”

The scribe gulped. He should have known the “First Consort of the Morning Star” would be a touchy subject. Bashan had earned the title, but her sister concubines clearly thought her less than worthy of it.

“How did a demon of such indolence, such inferior cunning , come by an avatar in this day and age?”

The scribe knelt in supplication and bowed his head.

“Pure happenstance, Princess. Some half-trained conjurer performed a summoning, and she was called to answer.”

“And what of my plans?” The princess hissed. “Was she not indisposed ? I was informed that many among her succubi took our deal. She should have been too burdensome for even one of the old Magi to manage.”

“It seems the human had enough raw talent to make up for his limited knowledge, Your Highness.”

The scribe cringed, his tone apologetic, and the princess wanted nothing more than to crush him under one great talon. She stopped herself, though. She needed information first.

“And what of her new avatar? Do we have a name?”

The scribe barely stopped himself from letting out a sigh of relief. This was his chance to play his one and only gambit. If it didn’t work, he was likely in for another long and painful decade of pulling his essence back together from the aether once the princess ripped him apart.

“I expect my messenger to return with that very information any day now, Your Highness. I tracked Lady Bashan’s vessel and nursemaid down to a small town in the north of England.”

The princess stared at him blankly. She didn’t seem to recognize the name.

“Er, it’s a part of what was once known to us as Albion, m’lady.”

He felt his entire being shudder as one of the Princesses of Hell continued to stare at him. Through him. He had long wondered what he had done to deserve an eternity of service under her rule.

Betrayal of the Creator, to start , quipped a small and irritating voice in his head—the tattered remains of his original celestial nature, he supposed.

Shut up, you , the scribe growled inwardly.

To his surprise, the princess finally threw her terrible, beautiful head back and laughed. Her long obsidian hair swept along the stone floor behind her feet. He allowed himself to hope for the moment. She must have understood his gambit.

“A clever plot, scribe,” she barked. “Worthy enough to grant you clemency for a time. Return to me when you have the child’s name. Perhaps I will forgive your failures if you make it quick. We must move once we have our mark. If I manage to taint them first, Bashan will be unable to bring out their full power. Should I fail, the world will be hers for the next millennium at least.”

The scribe’s posture relaxed just a bit. He stood up to bow once again.

“Yes, Your Highness. It shall be as you say.”

He turned and left, hardly able to believe his luck. He had just survived the anger of Gath, Princess of Hell, Consort of the Morning Star, Queen of the Void, and Dragon of Night. If he played his cards right, she might even be grateful enough to grant him a boon. If that happened, he could take revenge upon every lesser demon that had wronged him over the eons. He grinned as he left Gath’s hall.

Once the scribe was gone, Gath let herself relax. Her wings folded in on themselves, draping around her shoulders like a cloak, but leaving her lush curves fully exposed. Her four breasts heaved as she breathed deeply to calm her residual rage. Each pair was large enough to cripple a mortal woman but sat high and proud upon her chest and navel respectively. The crests of her upper pair, granted extra support by the lower ones, hovered just beneath her chin and swelled outward to obscure most of her forward view. For her, this was hardly an inconvenience, as she was not limited to a mortal’s understanding of sight and was fully aware of her surroundings at all times.

The rest of her body was even more spectacular. Her waist was thin, and her hips swelled outward to either side, very nearly as wide as she was tall. Her thighs were thick, their soft flesh smooth, supple, and scorching hot to the touch. Her buttocks formed a curvature at the base of her spine so pronounced that it created a fleshy shelf, and each one was so huge and round that even the slightest movement caused them to quake and ripple. They were perfectly soft but firm enough to hold an attractive and sensual shape that captivated men and women alike. Unlike so many of her sisters, Gath opted for an entirely feminine form. She enjoyed the aesthetic of human females, and, apart from the extra breasts, she was little more than an obscene exaggeration of feminine beauty. Her singular sex made her something of an anomaly among her kind, but she had always found masculine genitals cumbersome and unattractive. If she truly required them, she could manipulate her essence and grow them, but in her eons of existence, she had never once found a need for them.

Her glorious mane of black hair shimmered like a night sky full of stars, her eyes were dark and seemingly endless as the ocean at midnight, and her lips were as full and shapely as every other part of her perfect body. In a bygone era, men fought and died to possess beauty like hers. They might do so again if Gath was given one more chance to return to the mortal realm.

Her enormous ass wiggled and bounced as she walked on dainty humanoid feet towards her secret weapon. The scrying glass had been a gift to her from a mortal protege. Though long dead now, she was a great philosopher and magician in her day, and the glass was proof of her skill. It was powerful enough that even a devil such as Gath could look into events taking place in the mortal realm. She could even communicate with those she saw in it, although only in a limited fashion. It had been used throughout the centuries to tempt mortals into summoning her to their world, though it had lain long dormant in the modern age. Humans had so little power these days, and, great as she was, she couldn’t manage that trick on her own without an exhausting amount of effort.

Generally, demons were unable to reach across the veil on their own in any physical sense. They could transfer a portion of their essence into the mortal realm, but physical manifestation was impossible without the aid of a human, be they a willing servant or a naive conjurer. More powerful entities, such as herself, possessed such a dense essence that they could transfer enough to appear in a semi-physical form, but at great cost. She had been forced to rest for more than a century after her last unaided manifestation in the Middle Ages. It had been worth it, though. Hecate’s witches thought themselves invincible under her protection. Those that survived learned just how powerless they were in the face of a true devil. Just thinking about it made her wet, and thick juices dripped to the floor between her massive thighs.

“You,” she said, pointing a clawed finger at a lesser demon kneeling nearby. “Attend me.”

The demon, a feminine creature with long golden hair and a deceptively sweet face, stepped forward and assumed an all-too-familiar position. She stood on her knees, stretched her spine out behind herself, grabbed her ankles, and tilted her head back. Her mouth opened wide, and she stuck her long tongue out just before Gath mounted her face. Her massive ass completely enveloped the demon slave’s head. With a contented sigh, Gath felt the demon’s tongue snake its way into her.

“Much better,” she said with a small shudder of relief.

She looked into the mirror and attuned it to her hated sister’s realm. Bashan’s Iron Hall was too well warded to be shown, as expected, but Gath had secret servants within it. She set her focus on one such servant, a lieutenant of sorts in charge of Bashan’s legions of succubi, and the image of a feminine demon with a lush, curvaceous figure appeared in the mirror.

As her kind so often were, she was engaged in sexual congress with no less than three other demons. When she felt the presence of a greater being, she popped a thick, sinuous, and prehensile demon cock out of her mouth.

“Princess? Is that you?” She asked, her voice shaky as she was jolted by a pair of demons bucking beneath her. “Get those out of me, fools!”

The succubus stood to attention, pulling another pair of demonic shafts out of her vagina and asshole in the process. The demons hissed and groaned in disapproval, but she dismissed them with a snarl.

“Your purpose is served,” she declared. “Return to the pit!”

The demons writhed on the floor for an instant before disappearing in a flash of fire and ash. Commanded by a demon of higher rank, they had been forced to relocate to a place outside of the Iron Hall. The succubus, feeling suddenly self-conscious, smoothed her hair and fluffed her massive breasts as she wrapped her wings around her body like a shawl.

“What do you wish of me, Princess?” She asked, unsure where to look.

Gath smirked, but her confident grin was wiped away an instant later. The demon beneath her performed a complicated maneuver with her tongue and stimulated her to the point of orgasm. Gath took a deep, steadying breath, then replied with a single question.

“You have kept your sisters occupied, yes, dearest Vesha?”

She intended to give the succubus more than enough rope to hang herself. A look of uncertainty crossed the succubus’s face for an instant, then she nodded.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Vesha said. “I tempted each and every succubus of the Iron Hall away from their duties. It was easy enough to manage. A simple promise of a centuries-long orgy, and it was done. We are demons, after all.”

Gath considered this. The scribe had told her the succubi had neglected their duties to Bashan as intended. By his account, the only reason the bloated cow had managed to answer the summons was due to the conjurer’s brutish and unrefined magical strength. She would take that into consideration when she punished the failure of a demon before her.

“And so your report is thus: at no point did one of your subordinates tend to Princess Bashan. Correct?”

The succubus shifted uncomfortably in place. Her wings flexed, and her tail swished from side to side like an anxious cat.

“I-It is, Your Highness,” she said. “Have I somehow offended y—”

Her words were cut off as a wire-thin silver line stretched across her throat. Her eyes widened, and she clapped her hands to her neck as her spine went stiff. Her hands continued to cling to her neck as her head fell from her shoulders, landing on the protruding shelf of her chest. It bounced once off of the supple flesh, and then her face rolled into her own cleavage. She was helpless, unable to speak or move, but her body blindly fumbled for her head as if to put it back onto her shoulders. Another invisible blade slashed through the air and severed her arms between the wrists and elbows. Her hands fell to the floor, and her body dropped to its knees. Her head was jostled free from her chest in the process and rolled across the floor.

Immortal as she was, Vesha found her newly headless state to be little more than a temporary inconvenience. She would be able to reattach her head without much effort. Still, she had never experienced that sort of injury before, and she would do anything to keep it from happening again now that she knew how awful it was. Regrettably, Gath had other plans for her.

“The plain truth is that you failed me, slave,” Gath spat in a pitiless hiss. “Let’s see how a few centuries in my direct service suit you.”

Vesha opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t manage so much as a whisper. Her eyes rolled in a panic as she was forced to watch her body twitch and writhe, sending the mercurial vapor-fluid that was her essence splashing around the Iron Hall from her neck wound. It raised its arms as if in supplication before spontaneously combusting. She watched her very essence burn away into the aether and knew that it would take her at least three centuries to reform her glorious body. Worse, her bountiful breasts had been a gift from her previous mistress, and she wasn’t certain she would be able to reclaim them on her own. Demons are soulless and largely emotionless creatures, but Vesha came very close to true sorrow in that moment of anguish.

She felt a pull on the meager remnants of her essence, and her head vanished and reappeared in midair in Gath’s audience chamber. It tumbled to the ground, sending her rolling all over again. Then she felt Gath’s delicate foot halt her rolling, the pressure on her temples increasing to the point of discomfort as her head was squeezed between it and the hard floor. The Queen of the Void stood up, freeing the gasping demoness beneath her and leering down at the helpless disembodied head she longed to stamp into a silver jelly.

“I will give you a chance to redeem yourself,” Gath said as she reached down and lifted what was left of Vesha to eye level. “Serve me well in your new purpose, and I may restore you…in time.”

She flashed a wicked grin, revealing her shining fangs. Then she touched Vesha’s severed neck, sealed the wound to avoid dripping essence on her floors, and carried her over to her personal bedchamber.

“I witnessed your skill with the masculine member,” she purred. “And so I can only assume the talents of a demon of lust would extend to my own requirements.”

Gath crossed her chamber to a vanity in one corner. She stopped before the heavily padded stool before it and held Vesha’s head out before her in one hand. Grinning at her helpless victim, she drove her downwards into the padded stool. There was a brief flash of energy, and the succubus’s essence fused with it. When the process was complete half a heartbeat later, Vesha’s face occupied the center of the stool’s cushion. She opened her mouth in shock, and an audible gasp echoed through the chamber.

“What have you done to me?” Vesha cried out as soon as she realized her powers of speech had been returned.

“Given you purpose ,” Gath answered. “You will attend me whenever I require. You will perform your duties without complaint, and I will show you mercy. I must visit the Queen soon, so we will begin immediately. I would advise you not to disappoint me.”

Vesha’s eyes went wide again as she was forced to watch Gath lower her immense naked buttocks onto her face.

“Now that will never do,” Gath said, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

She shifted herself on the seat and felt something damp slip between her cheeks and into its proper place.

“Much better,” she purred.

Vesha was forced to perform her new duties. Fused as she was to a part of Gath’s Hall, she had lost the ability to change her shape or regenerate her body. She was a part of Gath’s domain until the Princess saw fit to separate her from the stool. If she ever would. Regardless, an eternity in Hell had taught Vesha that it was best to do as you were told and wait to be promoted. There was rarely any real hope of gaining an improved status in the hierarchy, but she knew it could always get worse. A few centuries of eating a Princess’s ass really wasn’t all that bad for a succubus.

Gath enjoyed letting her new plaything get on with its duties for a while as she applied makeup and scented oils in preparation for her audience with the Queen. She could have sat there for weeks at a time, but she had business to attend to elsewhere. She stood up, enjoying the gasps and coughs from the stool that had once been known as Vesha.

“Not entirely awful,” Gath told the stool. “But you’ll improve with time, I’m sure.”

Fully prepared to present herself before the Queen of Hell, she left the room, leaving the pitiable former succubus alone with her thoughts. If she was going to interfere with a fellow Princess of Hell, especially one with a trump card like an avatar in the human realm, she knew she would need a powerful ally. A demon of equal or similar standing within the Court of the Morning Star was a must, but she only trusted a select few enough to even broach the subject. She thought about the Devil Princes she had formed an alliance with in the past.

If she knew him, Beelzebub would be too intrigued by the possibilities an alliance with Bashan could provide to form one with her. A demon with an avatar could provide all sorts of rare worldly delights to their kin in the Pit. They could even pave the way for another demon to secure an avatar of their own. He would be too tempted by the treasures of mortalkind and the potential to walk the earth again. He was too likely to back Bashan and would probably agree to aid Gath so he could stab her in the back later down the line.

Centuries after their brief fling, Asmodeus still lusted after her. Gath just wasn’t sure he would be interested in putting in the work to aid her. Like a lion at the head of his pride, he tended to show up to profit off of the efforts of others after the difficult work was done. She needed someone just as cunning but more proactive.

Then the answer occurred to her: Asherah. She had been bound to her palace for eons and would jump at the opportunity to escape her confines via an avatar of her own. Gath only had to convince her that her plan left room for each of them to inhabit a physical form. Asherah was no fool, but her desperation to be free of her eternal burden for a time might make her overlook the obvious potential for a doublecross. She prepared herself to travel to the Broodmother’s palace. Looking at Asherah always made her uneasy. Gath had very narrowly avoided her fate through careful manipulation and a few choice words in the right ears. If Asherah ever discovered that Gath had indirectly convinced the Shining One to take her as Queen…

Gath shook her head and called upon her powers. In a flash of flame and cinder, she disappeared from her hall and materialized in the Queen of Hell’s palace. Gath shuddered as she took in her surroundings. For all its opulent decoration of silver, gold, marble, and silk, she knew that Asherah was more of a slave than a true queen. The palace was a gilded cage for a king’s bride. She would be in the great hall, feeding and birthing new subjects of the Pit. Gath steeled herself and walked along the plush carpets of the entry hall until she reached a massive marble door. She pushed gently against it, and it swung open seemingly of its own volition.

“Enter,” a smooth, even voice echoed through the hall. “And be ever mindful in the presence of the Queen. The Morningstar jealously defends his bride.”

Gath slowly walked into the enormous hall and saw her former rival just ahead. She was massive and difficult to miss as she was now. Her gargantuan belly, about the size of a bull elephant, rose high into the air, bloated and writhing with the demonic entities that grew within her. Her breasts rested on top of it, each one as swollen as her womb. They were heavy with demonic nectar and leaked constant streams of thick, silvery fluid that ran down her curves like twin waterfalls to collect in a basin set into the floor before her.

Her body, tiny by comparison, rested behind her breasts and stomach on a mass of silken cushions. A pair of long, thick tentacles extended from the floor behind her to her left and right. One was twisted around her right arm, holding it in place before snaking its way down her body to disappear between her legs. The other held her left arm, filling her mouth. Both thrust into her, bulging and pulsating every so often, and Gath knew that they were pumping pure demonic essence into her body. The Shining One Himself was at the other end of those impossibly long tentacles. He copulated eternally with His Queen to create new demonic entities in the hopes that the Promised Prince might be conceived.

For her part, Gath hoped that such an event never came to pass. It would mean Asherah would be freed from her duties as Broodmother and her own likely demotion if the Queen had her way.

Force-fed demonic seed and bred for eternity, the once-mighty Asherah, Queen of Hell, Demon of Wrath, and now Broodmother of the Pit, was a pitiable sight. Her fiery orange eyes darted to one side, staring at Gath like burning coals of pure rage and hatred as her body began to tremble. A particularly enormous gush of essence bulged along the length of the tentacle in her mouth. It filled her mouth and ran into her throat. Her eyes widened, and she began to choke it down, unable to resist in any way.

“I come for an audience, my Queen,” Gath said. “Will you grant my request?”

Asherah’s blazing eyes fixed on her rival once again, this time widening in surprise. She nodded, and the even voice boomed through her hall a second time.

“We grant you a reprieve, My Queen,” it said. “Attend your servant. We will return anon.”

The tentacles withdrew from her mouth and pussy in perfect sync, disappearing into the holes in the floor behind her. Asherah let out a ragged gasp as her tongue lolled out of her still-open mouth. As a demon, she had no real need to breathe, eat, or sleep, but her kind still enjoyed taking part in what they knew as “human pleasures.” They were the nearest things to intoxicants demons could hope for. It felt wonderful to take in a full breath of air and taste something other than her King’s issue for the first time in centuries.

She coughed on the fiery air and looked at Gath, who could tell she hated her for retaining her plush and graceful figure. Gath could read her like a book. While Asherah lay there, bloated and enslaved to their King’s whims, devils she viewed as lesser had risen to a similar station without paying the same heavy price of her “grand ascension.” Princesses and even a few demonic concubines were enjoying their status while the Queen believed herself to be little more than a sex slave. The best part was that she wasn’t exactly wrong. Gath couldn’t help herself. Her lip curled into a wicked smile.

“Why have you come to me?” Asherah croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse and thick with weariness. “I have no help to offer one such as you.”

Gath shrugged and turned as if to leave.

“If you would rather return to your duties…”

“No!”

Asherah’s shout was desperate and fearful as it echoed through her hall. She had tasted a moment of freedom and would do anything to extend it as much as possible. She composed herself and spoke again, rubbing her wrists as she was allowed the use of her arms for the first time in ages.

“I never said I wouldn’t listen ,” she said. “It is as much my duty to attend my subjects as it is to attend my King.”

Gath turned around and put her hands on her broad hips. She cocked them to one side, spreading the cloak of her wings apart with her elbows just enough to show off her slim waistline. She knew it would rankle Asherah to see her perfection more clearly, but she couldn’t resist poking the proverbial bear.

“Very well, my queen,” she said. “I came to offer an olive branch of sorts. Something to bring us back together as we once were long ago.”

Asherah threw her head back and laughed, showing two rows of teeth. The outer row was human in appearance, but the inner was made up of wicked, jagged fangs. Gath spoke of their time before humanity had reached their Iron Age. A time when they served the Morningstar as mere succubi. A time before they absorbed the essence of ten thousand lesser demons and the life force of thousands of humans. Before they grew in strength enough to seduce even the Dukes of Hell. Bashan had been with them then, and it was a simpler—if more dangerous—time.

“Speak,” Asherah demanded, her apparent good humor dissipating in an instant. “I must be quick or be punished.”

“By some base trickery and no shortage of good fortune, Bashan has obtained an avatar.”

Gath let the statement hang in the air. Asherah looked confused at first, then her eyes blazed once again, and she lifted herself from her cushions. Her arms could only raise her head and shoulders from the floor, but it was more movement than she had been capable of for quite some time. The whole palace shook as her legs bent to attempt to lift her immense bulk.

“That third-rate whore?” She roared. “She will walk the Earth while I remain bound here in service?”

Asherah threw back her head and uttered horrendous and ancient curses in languages mankind had long forgotten. Each phrase was so powerful that Gath’s ears rang with them. No demon dared invoke the name of the Almighty, but Asherah called for His blood to rain upon its fires and boil Bashan alive in its purity. Gath’s mouth fell open, and she feared they would be annihilated by a host of angels for her insolence, but nothing happened. Eventually, Asherah calmed down and lay back on her cushions, exhausted by the effort of struggling under her own weight.

“We must act fast,” she commanded. “What is your plan? Tell me now!”

Gath drew closer to her Queen. She planned to give her just enough hope that it would be all the sweeter when she wrenched it away.

“All we must do is find the child before Bashan can unite with it,” she purred. “One of my servants has a lead on its whereabouts, and I believe we can corrupt it before it can be used against us. In so doing, we could create vessels of our own by bringing her spawn to our side. It would have the strength to summon even the likes of us, at which point we could perform our rites upon those gathered to witness our arrival.”

Asherah smiled and nodded. Gath could see she liked the sound of the plan. If she were to be summoned to the mortal realm, enough of her essence would pass through to the other side that she would be able to split her consciousness and ignore her existence as Broodmother for a time. It would never happen, of course; Gath would see to that, but she needed the Queen’s aid to trick Bashan’s unholy bastard wherever it was.

As if she had read her thoughts, Asherah’s sly smile faded. She lifted herself back up to rest on her elbows, shifting her bulk once again and rumbling the entire palace in the process. 

“Why, then, should you need my help?” The Queen asked. “You have your mirror, do you not?”

“It will not suffice on its own,” Gath said. “It costs me a great deal to reach out to the other side, and time is of the essence.”

“And what, pray tell, can I do about that? I must remain here and serve our King.”

“Grant me the use of a Rift. Two occasions should be sufficient. You have that authority.”

Asherah laughed again, her second row of fangs gleaming behind the first.

“I do, but why should I trust you to return?”

Gath had prepared for this question. She reached between her lower breasts and pulled out a strange helical object that appeared to be at once both crystalline and metallic. Asherah’s eyes were fixed on it, and she held a hand out as if to reach for it.

“I will give you this in exchange for such a boon,” she told the Queen. “As you are no doubt already aware, this is a fragment of the essence of Belphegor himself, and it was taken before he succumbed. Its power is unimaginable, and I have taken great pains to preserve and protect it. Long have I saved it for an occasion such as this.”

Asherah’s eyes remained fixed on the container. If she consumed even a fragment of such pure devilish essence, her strength would increase many times over. She might even challenge the Morningstar Himself if she consumed it all, though she would have to do so over many centuries or risk her immediate destruction. Belphegor was a Great Prince in the Age of Creation and believed to be the strongest of the seven before he was laid low by her King.

“How did you come by this?” She hissed. “Why have you not used it yourself if you’ve kept it so long?”

“To answer the second question first, fear,” Gath said without a hint of a lie. “Such power could destroy the likes of us. I would rather use it as a bargaining chip than risk my destruction. The Morningstar sees fit to allow us to possess it, but He may reconsider should we attempt to consume it. To answer the first, I gave myself to Belphegor long ago and recovered this when he was finished with me. It was…quite painful, but worth it.”

“I will have that!” Asherah snarled. “Give it to me!”

“Grant me passage, and it is yours, my Queen.”

“Done! You shall be permitted to pass through the Rifts twice at any time and place of your choosing! Now give it to me!”

Gath relinquished her claim upon Belphegor’s essence and sent it across the Queen’s chamber. It floated directly into Asherah’s palm, and she held it with reverence. Gath smiled to herself. The Queen’s greed had blinded her to the fact that Belphegor’s essence would hardly avail her as she was occupied with her service to the King. It was why The Shining One held her bound as he bred her, by her reckoning. Not because he had to, but to keep her idle hands from plotting against Him. 

“Goodbye, Asherah, Queen of Hell, First Bride of the Morningstar,” Gath said. “You shall not see me again.”

Asherah’s eyes widened as she realized the trick. She began to spew her curses again, but the tentacles returned in a flash, bound her, and filled her mouth and lower holes once again. A moment later, the flat, even voice echoed through the palace halls once more.

“My Queen, I’ve not been away from you for so long in eons,” it said. “It is good to feel your embrace once more.”

The tentacles thickened, and a massive burst of essence filled the Queen at either end. Her belly visibly grew larger as Gath watched in morbid fascination.

“May the Promised Prince come quickly and relieve you of your burdens!” Gath called to the King and Queen of Hell. “Farewell, Your Majesties.”

“Farewell…” The voice muttered.