Jemma’s life had been hard since her grandfather passed. He was an eccentric collector of rare items, a vibrant personality, and a man of great wisdom. Jemma had always been his favorite because, like him, she had the patience and the insight to appreciate the rare and ancient creations of long past cultures. When he had passed, he had left her his collection, which was kept in a basement full of old crates.
At first, her relatives had been livid. They were convinced the room was full of jade statues, gold necklaces, and museum-worthy artifacts, but as they pried the first box open to find it full of moldy, thatch shirts with useless shell beads, they quickly calmed their tempers.
Jemma, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She had spent the last few months slowly perusing through boxes of various junk, reading her grandfather’s handwritten notes on the contents of the boxes. Many of them contained culture-specific legends, warnings, and encouragements. She had found masks supposedly containing dark curses, tokens that granted luck in odd endeavours, and urns whispered to be the homes of wish-granting djinn.
But nothing quite fascinated her like the item she found in a locked box in the back of the basement. It was a horn, black as night, that was curved unlike any she had ever seen. It was a tight corkscrew that was so hard and so thick she could hardly believe it was real bone. The note attached, however, claimed that it was.
The story attached to the horn told that in ancient times, a Levite priest was given a unique vision by God, detailing how the women of his land would be set upon by wandering spirits of long-dead Nephilim, the half-breed children of angels and the daughters of men. These wandering phantoms would overcome the women's' spirits and make them sinful and wanton, tempting the men away from God above. The Levite, having a daughter among the residents, became so distraught that he tore his clothes and wept.
The story told that the Levite’s sorrow was so great that God's heart was softened, and he told the man that he would preserve his daughter’s soul, so long as the man did not step foot from the temple until the day of punishment had come. So it came to be that the Levite stayed far from home, unable to love his wife or care for his children. Each day he would pray to god to spare the town or else to spare him the wait and bring the day of judgment so he might see his children again.
Every day at midnight the Levite would climb to the top of the temple and look out upon the town, praying in silence the same prayer he always did. Two years passed in this way until one day, during his midnight supplication, he spied from the balcony two figures stealing away in the night. They grew closer to the temple, passing underneath the balcony.
In the moonlight, he saw his daughter leading a man away from town. In an instant, the Levite became so furious that he cursed out at God for his perceived treachery, rushing down to the door of the temple and pursuing his daughter. He believed that surely the day of judgment had come and his daughter’s soul had been taken by one of the Nephilim.
The very moment his foot crossed the threshold of the temple he heard a terrible peal of thunder, and the sound of hooves on the ground. The Nephilim came that very moment. Barreling into town upon ghostly horses, the spirits leapt upon those who came out of their houses to see what was wrong. The spirits lunged into the women of the town, striking their names forever from the kingdom of God.
The Levite pursued his daughter only to find her astride the man she had left town with, her body twisting under the influence of the angels' evil spawn. With his walking stick, he struck out at the man on the ground beneath her, believing him to be of the Nephilim, but in a horrible stroke of fate, his daughter threw herself upwards in ecstasy, taking the brutal strike upon the skull. The strike clove a horn from her head that had begun to grow as she fell to the Nephilim spirit within her, and killed her immediately. Her body erupted in black fire, the fire of sheol.
Unable to fathom his act, the Levite threw himself into the fire, which consumed also the daughter’s lover. All that remained was a single, obsidian-black horn, in which the spirit of the daughter and the spirit of the Nephilim had become one.
The very horn now lay in Jemma’s hands, if the story was to be believed. For a moment she thought she could see a dark light flickering around the horn. She shook her head. Imagination is getting to me.
Jemma loved this sort of story and the glimpse they gave into the psyche of long gone cultures. The Levite had simply been human, and yet the lord on high had punished him so harshly. Terrible life view, but makes for a good myth. She stood to replace the horn in its locking box.
But her foot didn’t quite land where she had hoped. The horn tumbled from her grasp and struck the floor, exploding into black powder. She gasped in horror as the remnant black sand swirled outwards.
The old, dust-yellowed lights in the basement began to flicker and Jemma could have sworn that the ground began to shake. The black dust whirled unnaturally around the room, wrapping around her limbs like vines. She tried to scream but she found herself unable to make a single noise.
As her mouth flew open in fear, she couldn’t help but breathe in some of the obsidian dust. She coughed, it was heavy, heady, human, but with something more. It tasted like sex and fire. The powder filled her lungs, making the basement swirl and distort as her consciousness flickered. But she caught herself against some of the boxes.
Jemma fought for consciousness, forcing her eyes open as her muscles screamed against her. The black sand whipped ever harder, clawing into her every breath. But she stayed awake.
Fine! You want to play this game? You will pay for this dearly.
It felt as if someone had struck her skull with a hammer. An alien voice echoed within her mind, speaking a language she shouldn’t have understood. The words were foreign to her, unreproducible by her own mouth, yet pristinely clear in their meaning.
It was then that she first felt the presence. Someone else was in her head with her. Someone who was wresting control. She felt clumsy, mentally, like an inexperienced boxer. But she could feel that the presence was weak, even if it was experienced. She fought, clumsily but fervently, and felt the presence recede.
And then she ran. Stumbling out of the basement and onto the dirt path that ran to the house. The stars were already showing in a watercolor, summer sky, but the hot summer breeze that blew across the hayfield felt like ice on Jemma’s skin. She was cold as stone, but beads of sweat were forming across her skin nonetheless.
She beat through the branches of a small copse of trees that stood behind her house and struggled with the back door. Darkness writhed at the edges of her vision. She was losing consciousness and doing so quickly. She fell again when she entered the living room, falling short of a plump armchair that would have couched her fall. Instead, she struck the floor -- hard. The force knocked her cold.
****
Jemma felt heavy and hot. Attempting to open her eyes proved a fruitless endeavor; they felt like heavy sacks of sand. She groaned and managed to work up the willpower to flick her left foot slightly. Her mind was still swirling in half-sleep. She felt her muscles slacken again as a creeping terror crawled up her spine. She had the distinct feeling that something was watching her. Something just outside of her vision.
Then she heard the laugh. An evil cackle that tore through her head. She screamed and sat upwards. She was sweating and shaking. She pushed herself across the floor, sliding her back against the armchair and taking stock of her surroundings. There was no one in the room but her. Beams of bright morning light illuminated motes of dust that drifted softly. She sighed. Thank god.
She stood up, her body feeling somewhat stiff and odd. Looking around the room, everything looked ever so slightly different than she felt it should. Smaller, maybe? or further away? Her hair, straight and dark brown, had come free from the ponytail it was in the night before. She brushed it out of her face and squinted at the room. Why does everything look so strange?
It was then that Jemma noticed that her hair was significantly longer than she remembered. The last she remembered, her hair was long enough to just pass her shoulders. Now it was easily hanging to the middle of her back. She tossed her head, watching her hair tumble down over her chest. What. the. hell.
And now that she looked at it, her shirt didn’t even seem to be fitting right. The buttons on her chest were straining magnificently, stretched over breasts which appeared to be far too large. Realization dawning, Jemma lunged over to a mirror which hung near the front door.
The changes were noticeable immediately. She was inches taller than she’d been, by her guess, she now stood at five feet and seven inches, up from five-foot-three. Her breasts were at the least a cup size larger, from small b-cups to large c-cups. It was her face, though, that shocked her the most.
She had always been most proud of her face - heart-shaped with a small nose and almond eyes. Her cheekbones were high and fair, but not so much that it took away from her cuteness. But now, it was like every good feature she had had been magnified ever so slightly. Her lips, slightly pouty, were more plump. Her eyes glimmered brighter, and her cheeks had become ever so slightly more defined.
When she ran her hands down her hips, she couldn’t help but imagine how amazing she would look naked. She caught herself letting her hands drift. She pulled them away sharply. What am I doing? Something about her appearance made her feel sexy, strong, powerful...hot. She felt the familiar glow of arousal awaken deep within her. But why?
She shook herself. Surely, this was just her imagination. Maybe sleeping on the floor is a secret beauty practice… She smiled at that thought, but the smile didn’t last. The dreams, the horn, the voices.
Jemma took a deep breath to steady herself, and then went up the stairs to her room, where her jacket and keys lay undisturbed on the bed. The silence in the house as she climbed the stairs clawed at her ears. The house seemed frozen, isolated. She needed to get out. Get somewhere with other people, somewhere sane.
I could go see Liam.
Liam had been one of her grandfather’s frequent business partners and one of his closest friends. He was a professor of anthropology at the state university and was frequently selling or trading rare collectibles with her grandfather. Jemma’s grandfather and Liam had traveled many places together over the years; her grandfather had taken Liam under his wing when Liam was young and had been a constant advisor for him as he advanced through academia. As such, Jemma figured that Liam must be familiar with the items stored out back. He could help her, or point her in the right direction.
Liam was only in his early forties now, and Jemma had secretly had a crush on him all through her youth. She caught herself dwelling on his appearance. His clean beard, heavy jaw, and deep, wise eyes were vivid in her mind. And his tan, lean body kept fit by vigilant insistence on doing work on the ground overseas.
As Jemma climbed into her car, her imagination wandered across his body, speculating at his form, drifting from his chest to his abs, and further...She started the engine of the car, snapping her attention back from the fantasy, but not before a carnal image flashed across her mind: She was straddling him, riding him. She was moaning, sitting upright with one hand holding back her hair, and his hand was gripping her back. In her mind, she looked as confident and seductive as a porn star.
Jemma hesitated in the driveway. This is a mistake. I’m so out of my mind right now. She sighed. If I don’t find out just what is going on I’m fucked. The curse echoed in her head. Fucked. Her voice. Fucked. Something different. Fuck. The voice she’d heard the night before. Cold sweat on her brow, arousal flared between her legs. I need to figure this out. Now. She shifted the car into reverse, backed out of the driveway, and drove towards the university.
It didn’t take her long to arrive at the university archives. Somehow she knew Liam would be there. I didn’t even call. What am I… She strode up the stairs, never finishing the thought. She knew, she knew he would be here. Alone. With each step up her pace quickened, her heart pumped harder. She used the spare key Liam had given her years ago, rushed down the halls and up the stairwell to the third floor. It was like she was being pulled by some invisible force.
Each step drove her arousal further. Each step brought more filthy images into her mind -- her lips being parted, slick bulging veins, her mouth begging for something to fill it. Her hand turned the knob to Liam’s office and she pushed gently through, struggling to control herself. The look of surprise on Liam’s face only drove her wilder.
Jemma stepped into the room, not realizing that the two top buttons of her shirt had burst, putting out a healthy display of her expanded cleavage. On top of that, her bra was sizes smaller than it needed to be now, squeezing her breasts enough to make her look truly sexual.
Liam stared at her for a few moments, his face hovering somewhere between confusion and awe. He swallowed, seemingly unable to find words as Jemma slowly walked towards him. Her mind was a muddled frenzy of rushing hormones. Everything about her felt simply erotic, wrong. With short-lived shame, she realized her mouth was open and she was panting heavily.
Jemma walked towards him without even realizing she was stepping. It was like someone else was moving her body. She didn’t even realize her breasts swelling larger, her ass tightening and toning, her legs becoming even more sensual and lithe. Liam was entranced.
She walked up to him and breathed out a single word:
“Liam…”
Jemma fell towards him, her mind clouding. It was a powerful high, arousal overwhelming every inch of her mind. She wanted to touch herself, to be touched, to be lewd and filthy and carnal. She noticed the wetness between her legs now. It was soaking into her panties and soon it would show through. But embarrassment was out the window. All that was on her mind was need.
“Jemma?” He asked, voice almost trembling, “Why...what are you doing…?”
Jemma lifted her hand, stroking his cheek. Her expression begged for his attention. Her lips parted slightly, her heavy breasts surging with each breath. Liam seemed frozen, stiff, and as Jemma slid her body against his in a most uncharacteristic manner, she found he had grown stiff down below as well. She leaned in to kiss him, drawn by desire.
And then Jemma felt a surge of nausea. Something was swelling within her throat. Gagging once, she opened her mouth wide, as her tongue pushed forward, lengthening, thickening. The nausea passed as her tongue settled into its new size and mobility.
Her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, lashing, twitching, salivating as her brain learned the new nerves. She was shaking with terror, but the desire that bloomed within her was stronger. Maybe this will stop if I can just fuck. She felt the presence in her head again, filling her not with terror this time, but with approval. Yes. I can stop it if I can just have him.
“Please Liam...I’ve waited so long…”
Another surge of nausea hit as Jemma’s tongue grew longer, more lithe, more malleable. Jemma pushed Liam back against his desk, tugging at his pants. She could sense his arousal. Despite his confusion, he wanted her and she knew it. It was almost as if she could see the desire rising off of him.
Jemma undid his belt and pants, then quickly pulled down on her own top, freeing her breasts from their too-small prison. She actually tore the fabric slightly, meaning there would be no hiding them again tonight. As her breasts bounced free, she saw just how much they had changed. They hung off her chest like perfect teardrops, pert despite their size. Liam was staring at them without shame. Jemma caught his eye.
With the confidence of a dancer, she slid down, placing his hardened bulge between her breasts. She undid the folds of his boxers, letting his cock come free. It lifted towards her mouth -- red, bulging, veiny. His cock seemed larger than it should be, harder than any she had ever seen. The thought of her causing him to be so hard only turned Jemma on more. She opened her mouth and let her long tongue slide across the top of his cock. The taste made her pupils dilate.
Her lips only got more plump, more inviting as she wrapped her tongue around his cock, slowly exploring its flexibility, wrapping it around his bulging ridge and across his pumping veins. Needing him inside, hearing him moan, she brought his cock deep within her mouth, sliding her lengthening tongue down around his balls as if to milk him dry. She could feel her wetness flowing down her inner thighs.
Jemma could feel Liam twitch against her tongue and throat. Her gag reflex was gone. She looked up to see him staring down at her, eyes glazed over with desire and pleasure. Smiling as best she could around his dick, she brought him deeper into her throat, loving the heat, fantasizing about his inevitable load cascading into her.
She brought her right hand to her waistline and plunged into her hot, soaked panties fumbling desperately for her clit. It wasn’t hard to find. It had swollen larger than ever before and when her fingers slid gently across it, her whole body tensed, which, in turn, caused Liam to moan out in pleasure.
Jemma, flicking her slick clit, couldn’t get enough of Liam’s cock. With each moan she felt edified, as if each moan was feeding her soul, making her stronger, better, sexier. Then she felt him tense. She knew what that meant. Her tongue wrapped tighter, teasing the tip of his cock within her mouth.
She started to shake as his arousal drove her towards orgasm as well. Her clit was alight with pleasure and she was moaning, muffled by his cock, as he finally came and she came with him. That ethereal desire she had seemed to sense before grew even stronger, flooding into her as Liam began to orgasm, driving her to a shuddering orgasm. He came, crying out as he let loose into her. Jemma felt his cum blast into her throat. She could barely think.
As she came, she snapped her hand out of her pants in order to steady herself, but the orgasm kept coming despite her no longer touching herself. It was as if her whole soul was in ecstasy. Her tongue was alight with pleasure. Her nipples, brushing against Liams skin, were electric. She shook and shook as wave after wave of pleasure rattled her to her core.
But she was waking up, even as the orgasm continued. Jemma realized exactly where she was and her confidence, her desire, evaporated in an instant. For a moment, she was little old Jemma again, except, with a cock dripping cum into her mouth and a warped body displayed for Liam to look at. Shame filled her as she struggled to remove herself from Liam.
Cum slid down her tongue as she lifted off of Liam’s cock, some of it falling down onto her exposed breasts. In embarrassment, she tried to stand, but found that her orgasm was nowhere near completion. Instead, she just stumbled three long steps and slammed into the bookcase. Liam could barely speak. He looked as if he were entranced, enchanted with her.
What have I done?!
Jemma wanted to scream, but she could barely manage a squeak. She tried, in futility, to cover her breasts with her arm as she backed out of the room. What have I done, what have I done, what have I done? She retreated into the hall, still shaking, still reeling from the waning waves of pleasure that danced across her skin.
You’ve made me strong.
It was the terror-voice, the voice of the invader.
And you will do it again.
Jemma screamed and jolted towards the stairwell, adrenaline pushing her into a panic.
No. Your body will obey me!
Jemma felt her body go numb on one side, causing her to stumble towards the wall. She fought back as best as she knew how, but only managed to toss herself towards the stairs. She hit the ground near the top step and writhed, sliding down a few steps. She was growing hot again.
“No, please!” Jemma cried out.
Desire exploded within her, accompanied by pain as the invader had her way with her body. Jemma felt two sharp stabs at the crown of her head and managed to wrest control of her hands. Two hard, bony growths were pushing up from beneath her hair. Horns.
With a feral scream, Jemma wrested control of her body long enough to drag herself down to the next landing, but she felt the invader slam against the barriers of her sanity once again. She lost control. Her hands flew towards her nipples and her cunt, pleasuring, inviting the changes with sexual lust.
She watched in helpless horror as her cunt plumped and tightened, growing twice as sensitive, twice as elastic. She saw her feet curl into an unnatural ballerina-esque pose and hold that way as a cone of horn tunneled out of her heel. Her feet were permanent high-heels. She would never again escape a sexual swagger.
Her body changed more and more by the second, making her into a machine of seduction and sexual power. But she was not finished. Jemma pitched a last-ditch burst of willpower, kicking her new feet against the wall and sliding along the landing towards the stairs. She felt the invader panic, and lose control of the changes. The invader had not expected a good fight. Which left the changes in Jemma’s hands.
Drunk with sexuality and desire and utterly unprepared to control her own body’s form, Jemma tried to imagine a prison for the demon. If she couldn’t throw the demon out, she could trap her. But all she could think of was her needy pussy.
The struggle was over in an instant. Jemma felt an unbelievable heat settle in her crotch, and then a scream tear across her mind. As the demon was dragged into Jemma’s pussy, she lashed out with the last of her power, warping Jemma’s body.
Jemma screamed in pain as her face drastically restructured, becoming angular, angelically beautiful, with dark, lusty eyes. Then she felt two claws rend across her nipples. Nothing could have prepared her for this twisted change.
With a pop, Jemma’s nipples seemed to split in two and stretch. She watched as they reddened and became wet, twisting and churning until they resembled two spotless replicas of her own lips. Involuntarily, Jemma flexed and watched them pop open as sensually as her own lips would. Within them, a wet tunnel not unlike her vagina extended. Her mind immediately flooded with the thought of having them fucked and filled. She smiled drunkenly and moaned as she imagined hot cum dribbling out of her lip-like nipples as cock after cock plunged in and out, jiggling her massive tits as she sucked off another cock.
Jemma’s attention was pulled away from her vengefully warped nipples to her pussy, as the demon’s waning voiced changed into something far more suited for her new position. The mental scream faded into a radically new type of arousal, a constant, unquenchable, unabashed need for sex. In her bleary mindset, she laughed and imagined how funny it would be if the demon’s voiceless mouth physically became her pussy. Then she felt an odd churning deep within her womanhood as the demon’s final change settled in. Jemma became aware that she now had control of a second tongue, hidden within her womanhood. The demon’s voice had been silenced, and her mouth made a vessel for Jemma’s pleasure.
Jemma slid against the wall, shuddering. The desire that now radiated from her pussy was something completely new. As her new tongue moved around within her folds, self-pleasing, she tried to regain composure. She lifted herself from the floor onto her heel-like feet which clicked lightly against the stone of the staircase. She tried to resist the images that came to her mind; of walking into the room and fucking Liam again; of leaving the building and fucking every man and woman that she met; of sucking off a ring of men while sitting on the faces of their inferior girlfriends, but she found them as persistent as hunger, as commonplace as thirst.
She fingered her clit as if it were completely normal. She contemplated her position, swaying her hips with each step back towards Liam’s office. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I look different, but I’m essentially the same inside, right? She ran her extended tongue across her breasts, catching up the leftover cum, somehow loving its flavor.
With a shrug, Jemma licked her pussy lips with her second tongue and proceeded back to the room. Just need a quick release, then I can figure this all out. Maybe two quick releases…
Needless to say, it was hours before she finally left the archives, each of her recently virginal holes thoroughly used. And she needed more.