Chapter Text
“Listen up, dipshits. We’ve got another job and I’m going to need everyone on their A-Fucking-Game, alright?” Blitzo’s effort at rallying his three employees around the meeting table had been only marginally spoiled by the bejewelled riding crop he had begun slapping across its surface. His new ensemble featured similarly tasteless boots and matching encrusted gloves that sparkled with an eye-watering glare that shouldn’t have been possible with what little light had penetrated through Pride’s air-filled smog and the cheap-blinds that adorned I.M.P’s office window.
“Sir.” Moxie began in his usual measured tone, looking briefly back toward his ever-smiling Millie, taking strength from his wife’s immeasurable optimism before squinting back into the broken disco ball that was Blitzo. “May I ask if the client has already paid in advance, or are our finances falling into the red for the fourth month in a row?”
“Of course the creep paid ahead, he's a Goetia. And I got him to pay triple so that I'd put my best team on the job, AND keeping things confidential.”
“But Sir, we have one team, and our contracts are always confidential.”
“Look, Mox, I have horse-riding lessons in about 15 minutes. So either ask me questions about the job or kiss my ass for getting you two lovebirds a real chode bonus this month. His daddy's bank account probably thinks our pay is a rounding error anyway. So decide, the clock's ticking.”
“Ooh. Ooh ooh ooh!” Millie waved her raised hand with palpable excitement, honestly more interested in the mission than the payout. It had been a few weeks since they'd had any work and she'd been looking for any excuse to swing her axe into something other than her target-board.
Her infectious mood settled her husband and her boss's tempers, though at the furthest corner of the table, Loona remained steadfastly disinterested as she continued to scroll through her Sinstagram.
“Yes, Mills, you may kiss my ass first, unless you have a question to ask.”
“Does this mean we'll all be on this job together? A real company outing? It's been a while since we all did a little bit of team-building.” She asked in her eager and slightly bloodthirsty Wrath-circle twang.
“Nooope. I'm just assigning you two, M&M, for this one.”
“Ah, dang.”
“Sir, as much as I appreciate your faith in us, shouldn't we bring everyone just as a precaution if we're earning top dollar on this mission.”
“Ordinarily I'd agree, Mox, but the client asked specifically for ‘the least horny people’ we had whilst also mouth-breathing down the phone like he was watching me in the shower through a peep-hole. Guy gives me the ‘uses the term females unironically’ vibe and even if he's got money, I'm not putting Loonie anywhere near a freak like that. I'm so hot, he'd probably bust a load just looking at me and I already booked the only kind of riding he's paying for today. So that leaves our favourite hand-holding, missionary-only couple for the job. Don't fuck this up, you two, but also pack some air freshener. I'm reading ‘basement dweller’ all over this guy and I don't want you both coming back and stinking up the place.”
***
Blitzo's assumptions had mostly been spot-on, only the client Malphas's den was more ‘mother's guest house’ than basement. Even the fourth son of a lesser house still lived in a level of opulence no imp could ever hope to achieve. It made Blitzo's bill padding suddenly sit much easier on Moxxie's chest as he and Millie waded through the imp-knee high debris that covered the Goetia's floor. Lewd magazines – many infernal but far more from the living world – lay scattered in open-paged and slightly sticky distress, whilst figurines of large-eyed, poorly clothed girls poked out from the sea of hentai like drowning sailors. If the client's parents had ever sent a cleaner to his den, they had likely succumbed to an ignoble fate beneath the crushing volumes of imported doujinshi.
Malphas was crow-like in appearance, rather the sleek owl-form of his richer cousins. If he could shapeshift, he was long past caring about his own appearances, at least in the company of hired imps. His shirt was streaked with food and other fluid stains, and although he still towered over the couple that followed his wake, there was an undeniable hunch to his posture. He led them both to the cleanest-looking spot in his entire 400 ft square bedroom, his reading desk, where a familiar looking tome sat. Gilt pages bound in a deep red cover, fitted with a large opal across its leather spine. Its front cover depicting the Goetic seal of his house that Mille and Moxxie quietly agreed looked a little like a torpedo with a couple inverted ‘V’s etched upon it. An arcane grimoire, a means for the damned to travel up into the world of the living.
“Oh, don't you worry about that, Mr Malphas. We have our own ways of getting topside.” Millie beamed at the young crow.
“Not to this place, ya don't.” He replied with a sneer, a contortedly ugly act on a beaked face. “This grimoire is a dud, it doesn't go to the living world. It's linked to some other place, where souls can't be tempted down into Hell. So it's useless to most demons. Which is crazy because it's filled with the hottest bitches in any universe!”
“Eh?” M&M both let out, looking up with confusion at the distant-eyed client.
“Cowgirls, Goblin girls, Furry girls, Lich girls. All of them in this one highschool, stuffed to the brim with big titties and huge asses, the kind that make that porn stars down here look like a sack of shit. I mean, how many times can you watch bad acting and cheap cosplay before you just get sick of it all.”
The couple shot each other a quiet look, frowning as the serial coomer continued to describe his hyper fixation. They were avid enjoyers of dress-up, role-play and tuning into some amateur porn during their own love-making but both sensed that their client wasn’t interested in a healthy discussion of preferred kinks. This was already part of the job, validating the desires of Blitzo’s newest cash-cow.
“So I thought that if I had a human-sona and tried to join the school, I’d fit right in inside some tight monster girl pussy. Everyone is so horny over there it's like the air is made of aphrodisiacs, I thought it was a sure thing. Maybe a little action in the girl’s locker room, when I ‘accidentally’ walk in on the volleyball team whilst they’re all getting changed. Hit on the substitute teacher so she has to hold me back for ‘detention’ but she knows and I know what she really wants. Or maybe just you know, make a gloryhole somewhere and have the babes all line up for me. Going around and initiating is a lot of hard work. I should be able to stick my dick in a wall and relax to some sucky-sucky and ball-play when I’m the hottest guy around, you know?”
“I'm sorry, Sir.” Moxie raised his hand politely. “Do you actually have a target for us to kill for you?”
“I'm fucking getting there, imp.” He said, bristling Moxxie who otherwise held his tongue. “There's this one guy, so fucking wannabe chad who's busy fucking ALL the girls so they're too tired to fuck me. It’s fucking not right, putting this one guy in my perfect porn universe, you get me? Dumb fucking bull boy with giant ears and a so-so dick. Looks like a bad rip off of Cyberpunk Edgerunner's David or maybe even that one Narnia guy.”
Neither of the imps understood what the hell Malphas was talking about now. All they did know was that he would keep talking until the lordling felt he'd sufficiently expressed how cruel the multiverse was for not catering to him in all dimensions equally.
“I'd have killed him myself, got close a half dozen times without him even noticing, but it didn't feel right murdering another dude with an erection going on. Because of all the shortstacks and muscle-mommies walking around. Like, I'm not fucking gay or anything, you get me?”
M&M resisted rolling their eyes, saying nothing.
“So instead you two are going to murder him instead. You can do it however you want, but don't let anyone see you do it. If everyone starts thinking that strangers from out of town have got a murder boner on, they might suspect me! But otherwise, however you want. Oh, and keep it subtle, like a poison dart or drowning in a lake or smothering him in his sleep. Nothing too brutal, I need those girls to be crying on my shoulder for comfort, not checked into an asylum because you pulled his spine out his ass. Again, other than those things, however you want. Here.”
He threw the grimoire at Moxxie's chest, the force hurling the unfortunate imp into the pornographic sea with the thump.
“Use that and bring it back when the job's finished. I'm not even supposed to have it, so my folks would have you both killed if they found out imps were using an undocumented grimoire.”
“Don't worry, Sir.” Moxxie winced. “Like our new motto says: ‘Satisfaction at better than average odds.’”
***
The faulty Grimoire of The Crimson and The Pale deposited a pair of red-skinned teens to the client's jerk-off dimension without issue, giving ‘Moxxine’ and ‘Millerd’ a moment to readjust their disguises before the roaring portal snapped shut behind the pair. One, a freckled girl with high-pigtails and high-waisted jeans that rested on Moxxie’s surprisingly supple thighs that bloomed out from his waifish waist. The other, a cargo-shorted boy in the baggiest shirt the couple owned, the huge garment swallowing Millie’s sleek figure entirely as she squared her posture to complete the illusion.
It was imperative that they distract and isolate the target in order to make this execution as clean as possible. Between Moxxie's vast mental catalogue of cheesy and sleazy pick-up lines, and Millie's natural approachable-bro energy, they'd have him eating cyanide out of their hands in no time. Fashions seemed mostly similar between the living world and this dimension too. If anything, their disguises seemed tame compared to what else was on display in this tawdry train station they'd been deposited on to.
Waiting on old plastic seats and standing along weathered platforms, mixed in amongst otherwise normal looking humans, were women of ludicrous proportions. Shirt buttons strained valiantly against cup-sizes too deep into the alphabet for accurate measurement. Skirts transformed into belts as they rose over smooth, furred and scaled flanks of impossible thickness and underwear was visibly devoured by more cake than all the bakeries in Hell could ever make. A few such girls gave passing winks to Millard and Moxxine both, which the couple quickly waved and smiled at in good nature. As irregular visitors to the circle of Lust, the couple weren't unfamiliar with practically naked folks walking around, rubbing up against strangers and the like. The only thing different here was the far higher concentration of attractive ladies to men. Malphas had clearly opted to make himself a big fish in an otherwise tiny pond, not that it would help. Even if you could shapeshift away body odour, you couldn't hide a caustic attitude.
Doubt however was slightly beginning to sink into the two hired imps.
As Moxxie readjusted his boob-tube, he couldn’t help but notice how even some of the passing boys lining up at the platform were packing far more rear than the twinkish assassin. What few times Moxxie had enjoyed a male partner, some decidedly more than others, he hadn’t felt so in direct competition with an entire porned-up universe. Moxxine was an identity that let him indulge in the dream of being popular, desirable, sexy in a way that he'd let go to his head before. But that want to the wanted, a greedy and selfish want, even if he already had his perfect Millie by his side, it still lingered deep within. Rejection was an inevitable risk for the mission's sake but that wouldn't lessen its sting.
Millie's eyes were wandering over the busted shirts of the busty passers-by, her hand moving up to press against her own boyish chest, easily concealed in the long shirt. She'd never wanted anyone's validation to look one way or another. If this bull fella didn’t feel like becoming fast friends, it'd be a shame but she'd get over it once his body was safely mulched into pig feed. But when the saying goes ‘Everything's Bigger in the Wrath Circle’, it sometimes left her wishing that puberty hadn’t stopped at her waist. Between her hubby's fine ass and her own, it certainly made clothes swapping an easy gig as some comfort. But even if only for a day, Millie sometimes dreamed of moving up the alphabet herself, of getting some real milkmakers that could smother her Moxxie and any lesser chests that got in her way. A dream only, but one brought into stark relief as a kobold girl only a shade shorter than Millie herself walked past with enough dairy to feed the entire farm.
“There’s our train,” Moxxie pointed at the arriving carriage. “The client said the 8:12 goes to the target's school. Come on, ‘Millard’. We might be able to scope him out en route!”
The press of flesh that most commute trains devolved into were always a minor hurdle for the lean imps. Better yet, it was clear that cloven hooves and demonic tails were hardly of note to most folk, allowing the married assassins to relax a little bit as they freely used their extra appendages to whap aside any passengers resistant to moving.
“You know, Mox. I know the client warned us about this place being made of aphrodisiacs, but aside from looking at your sugar-buns, I gotta say, I ain't feeling any different.” She whispered as they slipped beneath a stern looking teacher's dark skirt and out the other side.
“Most aphrodisiacs are baloney anyway, Mills. Ground-up endangered animal parts only arouse the kind of person who already was going to get a boner from animal cruelty. The client was probably just overcompensating for his closeted erection. Good luck to the poor prong-owner that helps him figure that out about himself.”
It was at that moment, Moxxie noticed the shift in the stuffy air of the train carriage. It had long been warm from the summer morning and the overly curvy occupants taking up precious space. A little bit sweaty, a little bit plasticky but other all very normal scents.
Something was different now, pushing past and smothering the other smells beneath its heavy tones. A musk, one that had Moxxie warming at the cheeks. For a second, he forgot his mission and simply pushed further forward, nostrils huffing the masculine spice that was creeping into his brain. Hand reaching forwards through the press of bodies until it grasped at some unseen passenger's leg. Or at least, what Moxxie had thought was a leg until his fingers reflexively gripped the hidden length and an unmistakable throb issued back with another hit of that mind-ruining aroma.
“Good morning to you too.” Said the target, looking down at Moxxie with a coy smile.
An olive-skinned bull boy who at a glance could seem almost human if not for the two very unimpressive horns sprouting barely an inch or two from his forehead, just beneath a thick mane of mohawked hair. He appeared handsome enough, at least a foot taller than the pair and dressed in the dark uniform of his highschool, exuding a confidence that suggested perhaps Moxxie wasn’t the first person to have approached him so forwardly before. Puberty had been very kind to this minotaur from the belt downward, in ways that even the imps’ mutual-ex Chaz would have hesitated to challenge. Just the moment's touch before Moxxie retracted his roaming hand had conjured a sudden heat in his stomach that only seemed to grow as he nervously giggled back towards the target.
“Oh-ohh, oh! Ahm so sahrry.” ‘Moxxine's’ valley girl accent was only slightly less tortured than usual. Moxxie tried to collect himself to make a better first impression whilst suppressing sudden the urge to surreptitiously breathe in the lingering bull musk on his offending hand. “Ahm n-new here, just transferred schools. Hoping to maybe make a friend with another girl or perhaps a d-dashing young boy like yourself?”
“Well, I'm always happy to make such a ‘forward' friend.” The target replied, unfazed by the term ‘dashing young boy’ whose use was solely the purview of octogenarian women regardless of dimension. “But what about your friend behind you? Is he okay?”
Mille was only a couple paces back from her stumbling hubby, having been similarly lured more by scent and instinct, but her eyes remained locked on the behemoth in the bull's trouser leg. He had a Dragon-Driller 5000 stuffed down there, flaccid but stirring like some terrible beast at Moxxie's touch. A set of equally imp-ruining testicles had to be hidden somewhere behind her honey-pot husband's silhouette, likely the size of his own head at least if they were to scale with the rest of the bull's equipment. Poor Moxxie wouldn't stand a chance if that weapon was turned on him, an idea that wickedly thrilled Millie as much as the idea of it being turned on her as well.
“Ah said, ‘this is my brother, Millard .’” Moxxie strained his words, trying to grab his wife’s distant attention. “Millard, do you maybe wanna introduce yourself to my new friend, Cole here? He's really polite. A real one to look out for .”
‘Millard’ wiped the drool from her mouth before squaring up to the taller minotaur. “Yeah, dude. I'm Millard, if your school needs a sports guy, I'm your Joe. Sorry for staring, lot of cock- I mean not a lot of minotaur dudes where we're from, mostly hellhounds and imps like us.”
“Oh yeah, what do you play?”
“You know, baseball, volleyball, soccer, bit of everything.”
“Lots of ball games, huh?”
“Y-yeah. But like, I’m not picky. We mostly had whatever sports that didn’t need funding for more than a single pig-skin per class.”
“Well, it must be a pretty great place if it's made up of folks like you and Moxxine here. I could show you both around sometime if you'd be interested.”
“Ahm so, like, glad a nice guy like you is willing to help us out.” Moxxie said, placing a hand on what he was certain was the minotaur's leg this time with another nervous titter.
“If you have something in mind, Moxxine, say the word.”
Cole only placed a hand of Moxxie's shoulder, yet in the assassin's mind, that hand was already wrapped around Moxxine's pigtails before forcing the poor freckled imp to huff and lick every inch of that breeding-musk-soaked cock. Just a touch, just a sniff wasn't enough. Being commanded to suck this stranger's cock with Millie watching him flooded Moxxie with a perverse pleasure that spread out from that hot need in his stomach and into his own growing imp-dick. An imp-dick that Moxxine was definitely not supposed to have.
“Thatsoundsgreat. TalktoyoulaterCole.” Moxxie babbled as he dragged Millie away from the scene, his pants tenting with a traitorous erection that he prayed to Lucifer neither she nor the target had noticed.
“Looks like he's already eating out of your palm, Mox.” Millie said, slipping back after Moxxie under the same teacher's dark skirt a second time, earning them both another frown. It had been for the best that Moxxie dragged her away when he did. Any more words from her were guaranteed to collapse into a Freudian avalanche of dick-synonyms.
“Of course! Exactly as I’d definitely planned, Mills! In fact, I've already got the Perfect Plan in mind to kill him when we arrive.”
***
“Class, this is our new student, Moxxine. She'll be joining us from today. I'm sure she won't disrupt things so long as someone doesn't mind a lab partner.” The dark-skirted teacher gave a tight-lipped smile to her newest pupil, gesturing for ‘her’ to find a place amongst the chemistry lab.
Bunsen burners were already flicking in the pyromaniac delight of the assembled teenagers. Each had their own standing table prepared for the upcoming experiments and many were now rattling the little beakers of powders that had been set aside for the lesson with far greater interest than they shared for the new girl.
“Thahaanks, teach.” Moxxie replied, slinging a backpack over his svelte shoulders whilst throwing a wave towards the smiling bull boy standing at the window-side table, currently sans partner.
In about five minutes, Cole would taste the sweet release of death at the tip of one of the dozen poison syringes and darts stuffed into the inconspicuous schoolbag. Just a prick of this stuff could make a hell hog's heart explode. It'd probably turn the target's insides into soup but to any non-infernal medical examination his death would appear the natural result of a lifelong amphetamine addiction. Perfect Plan A. Absolute subtlety as the client ordered.
“I'll go stahnd over by that window there then.”
“Ahbupbupbupbup.” The glaring teacher grabbed Moxxie by the bag, lifting him off the ground to look at her unamused expression again. “Stow your things by the door. No bags at your desk when we're working with open flames.”
Moxxie gave an awkward smile to the rest of the staring classroom before doing as ordered.
“It happens.” Cole said, trying to reassure the dejected imp. “New school, new rules. Have you done any experiments like this where you’re from?”
“Oh nah. They keep things real boring back at my old school, no fun at all. But it looks like there's more than one hot thing at this desk to play with, am I right? HahaHAHhehe.” Moxxie's laughter continued on, hitting every note except the ones that sounded natural as Perfect Plan B began.
With his own lethal injections currently sitting at the other end of the chemistry class, there was only one other route to smuggling them inside.
Laughing longer and longer, testing the limits of believable humour, Moxxie kept the target's attention squarely on the giggling preppy in front of him and his back squarely away from the window sliding open behind him. Millie scrambled through the opening, the back-up poison dart between her teeth, and dived beneath the pair's workstation, just in time for the last gasp of air in Moxxie's lungs to be forcefully chuckled away.
Moxxie took a deep breath, immediately realising his error. Another lungful of the nearby studly scent produced a fresh wave of smaller, more nervous chuckles from the cross-dressing imp. There was something about this softly smiling idiot that stirred things within Moxxie, things he had taken the effort to secure down with a belt against his thigh this time. Regardless of Blitzo's constant jabs about a ‘babydick’, the married imp possessed a generous thigh-slapping length of his own that Millie certainly never tired of rodeoing. Now back in Cole's presence, he could feel that traitorous boner starting to swell against the leather belt, threatening his feminine disguise one more with each growing throb.
“So Moxxine, we’re testing powder compounds to try and measure the content. We’re allowed to burn a little at a time to try and get our balance right. You can take the first turn first, I’ll try to record the colour mix.”
“Oh my gawd, you’re so kind like that. You’re probably like really smart at this, right?”
“Actually I’m really bad at the measuring side of this.” He said with a dumb smile, slightly bashful whilst he scratched the back of his mane of brown hair. “I get a little nervous around the burners so I’ll often spill too little or too much. I’m really glad you picked me as your lab partner.”
Moxxie felt a little silly, tittering at the bull boy's off-hand comments, feeling himself sashaying his soft hips and flicking tail to draw this stud's attention as the conversation continued. There was a certain promise that the minotaur emanated this close. Perhaps it was the relaxed smile or the ease at which he stepped closer beside to hear your silly jokes. Or maybe it was simply the two-foot-long-and-counting slab of trouser-meat that exuded his heavy sexual pressure. If there was even a speck of truth in the Goetia's words, it was that this horned figure that towered over the lithe imp could fuck any girl in this school he wanted. Maybe he already had. Maybe he was staring down his next prey right now, with grabbable pigtails, a ruby tail winding around his ankle and a freckled face begging for him to paint with his creamy load.
‘Oh crumbs. If I keep teasing him like this, he's going to end up wearing me on his cock like a red condom. What's taking Millie so long?!’
From beneath the desk, the lady imp was undergoing a trial of her own.
Her husband’s bashful acting had given her the perfect opening to slip through the window and into the three-walled enclosure of the laboratory table's nook. She was perfectly hidden on all sides, short of the target bending down to inspect the space near his hooves - an unlikely problem with her theatre-quality hubby maintaining a distraction. Too effective a distraction one could argue, as she watched Moxxie's handiwork in action.
The outline of Cole's flared length was continuing to strain against the meagre confines of his pant leg. It bucked like a hellbronco every time Moxxie's tail ran along the failing fabric, like he was almost jerking the minotaur off with bashful teasing, taunting the growing girth to try and reach its full, devastating hardness. Seams were already beginning to open as the imp-ruining member stirred and prepared to hunt the kind of stretchy hellspawn holes that it deserved.
Millie slapped herself across the cheek, fighting the strange thoughts that were building up inside her mind and the needy wetness between her legs. She was here to pump this teen stud full of heart-exploding toxins. She was not here to fantasise about him pumping her full of his own fluids, as hard as it might be.
‘Keep him steady, Mox.’ The dart was ready in her right hand. It would take only a moment to prick his ankle and then it would be ‘bye-bye jerk-off dimension, hello hell sweet hell’.
Scooting closer like a red-skinned viper in the grasses, Millie had tuned out any other distractions or voices. All that was left would be to look up once to confirm Moxxie still had Cole's attention, and then she'd strike.
‘It's funny,’ she thought as her eyes drifted up heavensward. ‘This lug maybe sporting a stallion shamer alright, but by the fold of Moxxie's little pants, it almost looks like-’
“Oh my stars.”
“Did you hear something?” Cole asked, looking around for the source of the sudden voice.
Moxxie had heard it too and he knew where it was coming from. With no other option, he rolled the dice and laid his lithe hand on the monstrous bulge down the minotaur's leg. “Just the sound of my pussy dripping for this beast. Or maybe just my stomach growling for a meal of breeder cum, which do you think, big boy?”
A bullish snort warned Moxxie and Millie both that the target was eager for both. Further danger to Moxxie's holes would become apparent as the minotaur took a firm handful of the teasing imp's rear as if he was ready to rip the all-too-thin layer of denim off in his imminent rut.
From Moxxie's perspective, time was rapidly running out. Either Cole would fully succumb to his teased out urges, or the imp would fall to his knees first and Mille would see him visibly drooling over all this meat before them.
From Millie's perspective, her eyes could only dart between the bestial bullcock choking her confined nook with his virile musk, and her hubby's thigh-tied boner, leaking pre-cum down his darkened pant leg.
Both Millie and Moxxie were veritable size queens. It had been that fact which had lured them into ill-fated relationships with their mutual-ex Chaz. Both of them loved a fat cock being used on them, their dildo collection would probably make even Blitzo hesitate, and right now Millie found herself kneeling inches away from the most delicious pair of hole stuffers she'd ever seen. There had been hope, that even if Cole's fat, horse-flared megadick had been in front of her eyes, that she could take strength from Moxxie and power through her aching womb's promises of mind-breaking sex. But instead of imagining Moxxie as her eternal rock, she could see now that he was simply rock-hard for this slab of beef.
The thought of her husband yearning for another man may have turned some women towards cruel jealousy. Instead the dart fell from Millie's right hand as the offending palm found itself stuffed down her boy-shorts to bring desperate relief to a clenching, wet pussy. Her husband was an absolute slut for giant teen horsecock, he wanted to have his tight little ass absolutely stuffed with gallons of breeder seed whilst his own cock fired ropes into the open air, or across his face, or across his wife's. And Millie couldn’t stop rubbing her painfully needy clit to that thought.
She closed her eyes as the idea of hothusbanding out her Moxxie to hung studs washed over her in oh so sinfully delight. An image of his sweet features contorted in pleasure as Cole ploughed Moxxie's juicy ass filled her mind and soaked her shorts past what she could take.
Her core was tightening, desperately clawing towards an orgasm that she needed more than sense, more than air. She opened her eyes to look at those perfect cocks once more, Moxxie's beauty and Cole's beast. Just one more look and she'd be able to scratch that desperate itch.
Moxxie was looking at her, eyes locked with hers as he was bent over the desk, hands grasping the edge for support as he looked about ready to pass out. Or take Cole's cock in the middle of the class.
Moments earlier, Moxxie had taken a precious second to breathe as Cole excused himself from the lesson, whispering into the imp's ear to meet him in three minutes behind the sports shed. It disturbed and excited the assassin how long it had taken himself to remember not to actually follow the target at his word, his own belt-clad stiffy threatened to unbuckle if Cole had said one more word before departing.
Remembering their mission, Moxxie stooped to see if Millie had managed to complete her side of the task. Instead the couple looked each other in the eye, both on the verge of climax from overstimulation, and in that moment all was lost.
“Oh c-crumbs!”
“Oh f-fuck!”
****
It had been a very quick exit from the classroom after that point. Even if this world was like a porno, the imps still felt little need to remain in chemistry class after both cumming to the sight of one another and the lingering Cole musk between them.
Moxxie's plan had been a bust in more than one sense of the word. Now it was Millie's turn, and so now the pair found themselves piloting the boat club's yacht into the centre of the school’s vast lake. It had been easy enough to procure. Keys under the clubroom welcome mat, works every time.
The warm midday sun shone down upon the pair of red-faced hellspawn, their cheeks both several shades darker not from the summer heat, but from their silent, shared embarrassment. They didn’t know how to talk about it, how despite their initial assumptions that they’d be fine, the horniness that saturated this world was seeping into them with each passing minute but they still had a mission to focus on. How if they decided to bone right now to try and take the edge off, they might fantasise about the target too.
An unspoken agreement had been made. To not discuss the matter further until they could get home and break out the collection to cool their aching loins. Fair terms, if the minotaur would just die already and stop haunting their imaginations.
At least for the moment, Millie could distract herself looking over some of the local dimension’s fashion magazines left behind by the boat’s owners. A depressing sight as nothing smaller than a D-cup threatened to explode off the pages at her, even if the dresses trying to keep them under control remained mighty ‘purty’. Another little sting at how easily she could maintain the disguise of Millard. Never in a million years would she claim that Moxxie wasn’t always DTF her, she knew she was one hot bitch. Yet the slightly wistful imp couldn’t help but envy the more full-figured hourglasses and curves in the same way that the girls who read this magazine envied the models within.
“Sorry I took so long. The cabin’s all yours, Millard. And look what the team left behind.” Cole emerged from the lower cabin, uniform folded under his arm and replaced by a bulging set of swimming shorts. His other hand carried a freezer box that had been procured from below, which he quickly cracked open to reveal its bounty, putting aside his day clothes on an empty bench.
The sloshing sound of half-melted ice met the imps’ ears as the contents bobbed lazily with. Colourful cans and drinks bottles emerged from the thinning slush, each still frosted with chill. Cole tossed one his host, leaving Millie to quickly catch the thrown vessel, twisting it to read the label.
‘FRTL-UP. The only energy maximiser that promotes characteristic growth.’
Whatever that meant, just another brand slogan like all dimensions had. The drink seemed fairly ubiquitous with how easily Cole had tossed it to her. Asking questions would instantly out herself as some sort of fringe weirdo. Like that Raid-Blade Sallie-May drank that promised increased bloodlust, bloodgreed and of course bloodwrath. Bloodpride flavour was discontinued outside of June.
Millie shrugged and took a deep swig, finding the flavour peculiarly spicy that reminded her of peppercorns. A weirdly earthy flavour that she found herself enjoying more with each sip. It certainly beat killing this fool with a parched throat.
“Thanks for inviting me out here, you two. I don’t get many offers to go lake swimming.”
“What?” Moxxie asked with faux shock, one hand at the controls. “A good-looking da- ahem, I mean a nice guy like you? I thought you'd get tons of offers.”
“Oh I get plenty of offers to come out here, but not to a lot of events where I still keep my shorts on.” Cole almost seemed to purr that last response, leaving Moxxie's knees suddenly weak. It was a quick recovery though as the bull boy moved on with a knowing smile. “Though I'm sure it's much the same from your old school too? You two probably got a lot of action yourselves.”
Moxxie tittered, relishing the flattery and attention. A part of him had been worried things would be strained, what with leaving Cole alone behind the shed whilst the imps quickly changed into their back-up non-cumstained disguise. But clearly this brute had caught Moxxie's scent and seemed just as eager as ever. “Maybeee. I've ‘danced’ with a few big boys in my time. Who knows, I might already have my eye on my next target.”
“I hope so.” Cole said, flashing back a hungry grin before turning to Moxxie's ‘brother’. “What about you, Millard? You ‘danced’ with a few girls back home?”
“Oh sure, sure.” Millie replied, draining her bottle and wishing it was filled with something harder. “I fucked a lot of bitches, all big tits and yaddayadda. Like everyone else around here. Let's just get this started, okay?” She got to her feet with a quiet huff, tossing aside the container with a lick of her lips and pointing out onto the open lake. “First one to do five laps between here to that buoy ten yards out. Winner gets whatever they want, Loser pays up. Agreed, bro?”
“Agreed.”
Her plan was even simpler and more cunning than Moxxie's. Under the guise of this contest between two young, competitive men, she had lured the target far away from all but the most keen-eyed students on the distant shore. A fight might attract attention and Malphas had made clear the body was to be preserved as intact as possible. So when the bull boy would inevitably grow tired swimming back and forth, trying to catch the fatigueless Millie, that is when the trap would be sprung. The trap being Moxxie hitting Cole with the yacht. A simple accident brought on by a careless new student. Tragic and clean, just like the client sort of ordered.
“You’re not losing the shirt or anything?” The bull asked as he watched Millie perfectly dive into the water, earning her a round of applause from her pair of onlookers.
“Nah, bro. You'll need to work harder than that to catch me in one of those banana hammocks of yours.”
“Oh, so like winning this race?”
That did set a warm flush through Millie, despite being submerged up to the neck in cool lake water. “Uhm, if you can win, that is. I'm not carrying an anchor around in my pants.”
Cole didn't so much dive as cannon-ball but nevertheless he and Millie soon took their positions, one hand each on the yacht, ready to launch towards the buoy at Moxxine's word.
“Alright boys, I want a nice, clean race. No shoving or pulling, got that?”
Both nodded, priming for the moment to kick off from the boat.
“Then 3. 2. 1. Go!”
Millie tore like a bullet through the open water, her sleek form cutting forwards the floating marker with effortless grace even when weighed down by a soaking shirt and cargo shorts. Behind her the target had already fallen two strokes short of her initial push, a gap that would only widen with time. His relatively steady strokes were less cutting through water, and more shovelling armfuls behind his back.
‘Cattle ain't great swimmers,’ Millie thought as she made her first touch of the buoy already, and gazed back at her less hydrodynamic target. ‘Best take it a little easy on him, in case he gives up instead of exhausting himself. Don't want to crush his spirit too hard before Moxxie crushes his head with the yacht.’
“Come on, Cole.” She yelled, cutting back past him as he approached the buoy. “I thought cowboys were made of tougher stuff than that.”
“Race has only just begun, Millard. The new meat in town shouldn’t underestimate the competition. Those little legs of yours are going to be all tuckered out soon enough.”
“The only thing I'm tired of, dude, are your excuses!”
Moxxie gave a sigh from atop the deck, shaking his pig-tailed head. They were going to be like this the whole race. At least this plan was going off without a hitch, even some small part of him felt it was a terrible waste of good dick. But that was the job, and Moxxie was ever the professional.
“Maybe I'll get myself a little drink. This is all thirsty work and it's just a flick of the switch to make the boat kick forward.” That FRTL-UP Millie had been drinking looked a little too processed for his tastes, but maybe the yacht club had kept something a little more mineral water-esque alongside their energy drinks.
His nose wrinkled slightly at the options available. Monstergirl Energy, Blue Bull, Lycanzade. Nothing remotely refreshing or approaching something as simple as iced coffee. He shut the freezer box, his nose wrinkling again as something else lured his senses. An already familiar, masculine tone like earth and sex had fucked to create the perfect air of virility. Cole's folded uniform, upon the top of which lay his pants. The same pants that had been stretched over that beast dick of his all day long.
The traitorous erection began to inch down Moxxie's leg once again, threatening to ruin these clean jeans as those before. The imp sighed and shook his head with a smile of smug satisfaction. “I've learnt my lesson. Even if he had been wearing those all day and they were suffused with his musk, I'm not so weak as to fall to my knees before a man's clothes. I've got plenty of respect and self-control, in fact, I'm going to put these below so they're out of sight and out of mind.”
With renewed pride, Moxxie grabbed the folded clothes and pulled them against his svelte frame, pleased with his quiet display of self-control.
“Yeugh!” He let out, as something unexpectedly warm and viscous pressed against the smoothness of his bare waist. Moxxie pulled away the clothing to examine the offending substance. It was a clear fluid, thicker and more copious than any of its like Moxxie had ever seen before, but unmistakable in nature as the raw scent of aroused horsecock invaded the imp's brain once more. Pre-cum. Delicious, fresh pre-cum, made by a horny bull who had boarded this yacht in pursuit of the tease known as Moxxine.
“Oh crumbs.”
As Millie kicked off from the yacht once again, she was amazed at how good she felt. She knew all about a runner's high and that inseparable interplay of murder and sex, but this felt like something bigger than both combined. Like she was fucking the entire lake with every stroke or perhaps she could feel how badly the lake wanted to fuck her. Either way, she didn't want to stop. Every inch of her body was alight, like the water was licking every place she needed. It splashed against her ass, it pushed along her pussy. Even her clinging shirt felt like wet tongues begging at her nipples, like Moxxie on her right and maybe that bull on her left.
Speaking of which, even if he still had no chance of winning, Cole had maintained a steady pace on her since the start. Of course, that had been because Millie let him close the gap as much as he had, enough to keep on luring him with the promise of . . . whatever he wanted . . . She would have been impressed, if the imp wasn’t already too high with the promise of her certain victory. The only thing making this remotely challenging was how much water her clothes had taken on, getting heavier and heavier, little by little with each lap. Even now as she touched the yacht on her fourth and penultimate lap, it felt like she was dragging a dozen axes behind her, a soft ache across her entire body that felt strangely just as good as the rest of the lake-fucking.
Grabbing the draped rope-ladder, Millie couldn’t resist the urge as she pulled herself just enough out of the water to show-boat. “Hey cowboy! If you’re going to drag that anchor around all race, why don’t you just give up now. I’m going to own your ass after this is done anyway, might as well surrender whilst you’ve still got your dignity!” She made to slap the rear of her shorts with a locker room mischief that would surely prove her place as top boy. Instead of the muted thunk of wet clothes, Mille’s hand collided with a fat red ass-cheek that clapped loud and clear, more ass than she had ever remembered having.
This had been the extra water weight she’d been dragging, a pair of extra spankable imp cheeks? She looked down at the pressure that had followed her chest out of the lake, only to find a pair of tits. Not the small ever-budding tits of a girl who’d never needed more than a pair of tapped X pasties to cover her chest. These were the hefty milk-jugs of a woman that could wring a cock dry with her breasts alone, that could snap a when-will-it-ever-stop-training bra in half, that. . . shouldn’t be on the body of a teen male athlete.
Millie slipped back into the water, no time to think about what ill-timed miracle had just happened to her. For the first time since slapping an extra ton of ass in his direction, she turned to face the bull.
Usually a bull seeing red was meant to enrage him, so the adage went. Patently false, Wrath-bulls were furious even in their sleep. Sure they had a tendency to be slightly more blood-spittingly mad whilst awake but when you knew that destiny had offered you a path in life that ends in either burgers or short ribs, you’d be angry too.
This bull on the other hand had seen the crimson shine of Millie’s wet rear. And he liked the view, clearly enough to start throwing stronger and stronger arms strokes across the lake in order to get a second look. The waters were churning around the hungry-eyed minotaur as he pushed forward. Despite the fact that ‘Millard’s’ ass was the one he’d seen, that clearly wasn’t an issue for the young stud. A thought that Millie could feel sending a tingle of exquisite danger between her legs.
Moxxie had been clearly in more ‘danger’ than they’d anticipated, and now so was she. He’d rut both their holes given the chance, and Millie had more for the brute to fill. More opportunities to take her again and again if he got his hands on her. This was no longer just a race to lure him into their trap. It was a desperate stand against him shredding her disguise off and fucking her into a cum-filled mess on the deck of the yacht!
With a nervousness that she wasn’t used to, Millie kicked off of the yacht’s hull, eager to finish this one last lap before Cole got his clutches on her. This time as she moved through the water, she felt less like a bullet and more like a sack of grain tied to another sack of grain. It was all extra weight she wasn’t used to, throwing off her motions, making some parts of her oddly buoyant as other areas threatened to drag her down.
It was hard enough having to curve her swimming arc around the bull’s hydraulic-charge, for fear that he might reach out and grab her before the race was over. And that she might not fight him off if he did.
Keep moving. Kick those legs, work those arms. Don’t think about the word breast-stroke. Don’t make any more ‘anchor jokes’. That was all she needed to do and Millie would be home free.
Her arc bent back towards the buoy, and for the first time as she laid her hand against the metal marker, Millie took a moment to breathe.
This was it. Only a few short yards of water to cross and then it’d be over. All she needed to do was get there and Moxxie would do the rest. In fact, where was Moxxie? He should be waiting for her signal to fire up the motor and finish this mission. Instead he was nowhere to be seen. There was only the ominous shape of the bull growing closer.
If Moxxie wasn’t ready, all this scheming would be for nothing. The soaked imp climbed a little higher atop the buoy, clinging to its bobbing frame as she tried to stretch an inch taller in search of her wayward husband, absent from the yacht's controls. ‘Dang it, Mox. Do I gotta keep this buck's attention while you hunt for the bathroom? Please get back soon, I don’t know how long I'll be able to hold him off.’
“Hey cowboy,” she started again, her newly sized imp chest still hidden by the oversized shirt and Millie strategically keeping her back to the approaching bull. “Hope you're not feeling too tired already. Maybe we could make things interesting? How about another couple laps, double or nothing?”
“I don't know, new meat.” Cole fell like a wave against Millie, grasping the buoy on either side of her, leaving the anchor in his shorts dangerously close to the shrinking floss of her own bottoms. Up close, water glistening of his body, she could see the subtle definition of his muscles. Not the roided freakshow of a bodybuilder, but a certain firmness that droplets trickled down oblique outlines and subtle sculpting. The kind of body that could carry an imp like hers — even with a few extra pounds of ass and tit — and do also sorts of terrible things for hours on end. The sorts of things Millie was imagining as he pressed closer against her, his equine bulge digging into the cleft of her fattened cheeks.
“I think I'm ready to bring things to a close right now. It's obvious anyway what's waiting for me when I swim back towards that yacht.”
“W-whatever do you mean? This is just an ordinary guy race between two guys. No other schemes here!”
“Come on, it's clear what this is all about.”
“It-it is?” Millie let out a loud gulp as her mind raced. ‘Assassins or fucking my ass. Assassins or fucking my ass. There's no way this hung brute hasn't either figured out that we've been suspiciously getting close to him or that he's planning on ploughing my ass the second we get on that yacht again. If he doesn't start right now. . .’
She couldn’t help but push back against that tree trunk currently splitting her new dump truck apart, feeling how much more of her there was to wrap around him. Like a big girl like her was made to take a big cock like his.
“You two. . .”
Moxxie too, this beast clearly had no limit to his hungers.
“Wanted me . . .”
Here it comes.
“To introduce you to the local swimming team!”
Millie took a moment, still registering that Cole was definitely still inches away from fucking her through her shrinking shorts and yet he thought this was some kinda schoolyard swimming try-out?
“What?!” Was all Millie could muster.
“I mean, it's obvious when you think about it. The boat. The race. The offer for me to slam your ass on this buoy. You wanted to butter me up before I asked the coach on your behalf.”
“. . . How is the fucking-my-ass part of this entire plan a minor part?!”
“Well, I mean everybody fucks their new friends, if they're inclined that way. Though maybe I assumed a little too much?”
“No! I mean, yes! I mean-”
“Look, don't worry about it, Millard. The coach likes me, I'm sure I can convince her with a good word and a bit of extra credit. And if afterwards, if you still want me to show you what I really do to keep in shape, we can still fuck as bros.” Cole slipped away from the pinned Millie and began to lazily drift back towards the yacht.
Millie remained stuck to her buoy, unwilling to move in case this surreal dream took another term. They really did just think about fucking in this dimension, like it was as natural as breathing or stabbing the guy who cuts you off in line. Such a strange place. Who could imagine all this as normal?
Regardless, this world had already started to change her too — mind and body. If some fucker had tried to slip his dick between her behind in Hell, he’d be breathing out of an iron lung before you could say ‘Is this seat taken’. Instead now there was an emptiness where that massive piece of bull meat had once rested.
Even the food here was as horny as everything else, blessing her with the heavy milk jugs to flaunt like she was a shortstack Verosika Mayday, and the cushion to match. And they felt gooood, like they were waiting for a firm set of hands to properly give her what she needed.
Eventually she returned to the yacht, only to find Cole had already left. Probably swam to the shore with energy to spare, that rowdy bull. Looking around for her absent husband, Millie eventually found him below deck, hand on cock in the ship’s bathroom wearing the target’s pants like a mask. The dark marble of the yacht’s bathroom tiles had all been painted in imp-jizz-white, Moxxie’s legendary aim having managed to hit everywhere except the toilet bowl thanks to his new headgear.
A note had been tapped to the outside door, likely left by the bull where it was clear ‘Moxxine’ was too occupied to answer. It was short and attached was an address.
‘I win. Come visit my place sometime. Both of you are invited.’
***
“Mox, I got something to tell you.”
“No, please, Millie. I have something to confess myself.”
“I think our target’s weirdly hot.”
“I think our target’s weirdly hot, maybe more so than Michael Crawford.”
“. . . that bad, darling?”
“Yeah, about that bad.”
The two hired killers had managed to find another set of dry clothes for Millie, and were now sitting together on the same train they had boarded this morning. The carriage was thankfully empty, letting the married couple talk frankly for the first time all day since the mission had begun.
Moxxie’s erection had only started to get back under control when they’d finally managed to find him some mineral water at a vending machine. The taste of horse-pre-seed was still dangerously present on the imp’s tongue, haunting his brain with a narcotic-like craving that at least he didn’t need to hide in front of Millie. She had sucked him dry on that yacht shortly after finding him, and then again as he mineral-washed his mouth behind the sheds. She’d blown his imp-dick more forcefully than he’d expected in all honesty, like she was starved for cum in ways that he could certainly relate to.
A part of the lithe imp wondered if he was meant to feel jealous or ashamed that the minotaur they’d been sent to kill had nearly started fucking his wife, whilst he had scampered away to jerk off in secret. The tell-tale twitch of Moxxie’s ruby cock told him that wasn’t the case. If anything, it excited him to know that his wife, his wonderful, strong-as-hell-steel, Maestro-with-an-axe Millie, was so dick-achingly hot that she could stir a man’s appetites regardless of what gender she dressed as. It was a kinky sort of pride that brought forth the idea of the pair of them, the couple of naughty cock-teasers that they were, taking on some big, hung, bullish- ‘No! The mission. We have to stay on the mission.’
Millie was in her own quandary. An ache within her pussy that hadn’t settled since Moxxie had eaten her out when they’d changed clothes, and then again five minutes ago when they realised the carriage was empty. Her little MoxMox had certainly stirred up some wicked thoughts inside that stud that had nearly been turned loose on her. Her husband could certainly be a right menace when he caught someone’s eye, and there was no arguing why. Even if they didn’t see his kind soul or musician’s heart, he could ride a strap-on like he was trying to put Angel Dust out of business. And that tongue, ooh, any girl or boy would be lucky to get even two minutes with him in a closet. If only they could ignore the effects of this infectiously horny universe, how it had made this hot new body of hers which was begging to be used right. If they didn’t do something, Malphas would start asking questions, and all explanations in the world wouldn’t be able to stop an angry Goetia.
“I know this may sound preposterous but there’s more. I’ve also been getting . . kind of . .” Moxxie’s voice shrank into a mumble as he rubbed his knees together, looking down at the carriage floor.
“Worked up at the thought of him and me going for a bare-back ride?” Millie answered with a cocked brow, before shrugging in admittance. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve been thinking the same thing about you too.”
“You . . like the idea of me calling him daddy as he chokes me from behind?”
“Honey, that’s our Tuesday dinner plans after the new episode of Dancing with the Sins.”
“The choreography is so good this year, and it doesn’t hurt that the men are in their tightest outfits yet.”
“If they don’t let up soon, those boys are going to suffocate in their sequins.”
“If only their tailor would answer my phone calls!”
“I know, Moxxie, I know. She’s a real bitch” She said, grabbing her husband close by the shoulder, pulling him in conspiratorially. “But now we gotta focus up. We’re running outta time to kill this big, dumb hunk.”
“Yeah, with his stupid face, and those soulful eyes and massive-”
“Honey.”
“Hair! I was going to say hair!”
“Well, I’m glad we’re both fine knowing that we both think he’s maybe a little bit attractive and also just a smidge happy to share him together.”
“If he wasn’t the person we came here to murder, that is.” He tactfully added.
“Yeah, aside from that little detail.”
“So, Mills. My plan failed, as did yours. So now it’s time for Plan C?”
“Yep.” Millie pulled the address from her shorts pocket, waving it like the ticket to the last show in town. “Let’s just hope he’s a deep sleeper.”
***
Midnight was always the ideal hour for nefarious work. The off-campus dormitory bedrooms were now uniformly absent of light or sound, besides the few snores leaking from open windows. The one window that the imps cared about was similarly ajar in an effort to beat the summer heat, providing the married assassins a perfect route into the target’s bedroom.
Moxxie’s cloven hooves hit the carpet first, a pair of throwing knives readied in both hands. He swept the dark space for any signs of life, you could never underestimate security measures on a mission, especially when moving into the deepest parts of enemy territory. A sigh of relief passed his still painted lips, slipping the blades back into the holsters hidden with Moxxine’s pants. It was just an ordinary dorm room. Cheap desk, cheaper cupboards and an occupied single bed.
Millie joined him a moment later, delayed slightly by the extra mass she was squeezing through the open window. Millard’s shorts had failed her entirely but his baggy shirt still covered enough that she could pass for a very chubby boy. Not that it would matter much longer, now they were about to end this.
The couple nodded to each other and approached the lone bed at the room’s edge. There the figure lay, the damned minotaur who’d been running them ragged this passed day. Blanket half draped across his olive chest and across the large bulge below his waist that both assassins knew wasn’t the shape of his knees alone. Even asleep, the teen had a slightly wry smile as if he could sense the murderous voyeurs in the room with him.
“I’ve realised a slight miscalculation in Plan C,” Moxxie whispered, barely louder than a breath, an act all the harder as his heart began to race. “What do we smother him with?”
“You didn’t bring nothing to choke him on?” Millie hushed, trying to smother her nervous panting and avert her eyes from the blanket bulge.
“I thought he might have a spare pillow.” Unfortunately the only such pillow remained squarely pinned beneath the horned-head of their target. “Maybe instead we could just grab something else.”
“You thinking about his pants again, darling?”
“No!” Moxxie blurted out, causing both imps to freeze as Cole muttered in his sleep before finally settling again. “Sorry. I was thinking instead we should try the blanket. It’s so warm for mortal folk right now, he won’t notice a thing.”
“Alright then. You grab that end, I’ll grab this one and we’ll just take it off real slow like.”
The couple nodded to each other and took their places.
Both hands on the nearest corners, they slowly, carefully, painstakingly inched the covers further and further off of the target’s body. Once or twice, he seemed to stir again, mumbling in response to whatever dreams a horny bull like he enjoyed. But, with plenty of care and patience, the blanket was soon finally lying on the dormroom floor.
‘Of course’, the imps quickly realised, ‘he sleeps nude’.
Those toned forearms that lay picturesquely against his sleeping head. Those subtle abdominals that Mille had seen highlighted by the lake’s paintbrush. They all stood in stark contrast to the display of fat equinehood before the self-confessed size-queens.
Now finally free of the confines of uniform and swimming shorts, the beast was laid bare.
As both had anticipated and fantasised, the shaft was blessed with a monstrous girth that could easily stretch the accursed holes of even the naughtiest imps to their blissful, eyes-rolled-back-into-their-skull limits. After at least a full foot-and-change of cock up from the dark root, their eyes met the mottled medial ring of a true horsecock, already slightly engorged with warm blood even in the midst of Cole’s dreams. Like this stud was always aroused and eager, waiting for his next hole to fill.
Onward and onward they followed the vein-etched length of that weapon-of-a-cock, resting on a pair of equal impossible testicals that looked swollen and tight with seed. Shifting and clenching ever so slightly in the slightly cooler night air, they looked ready to breed any number of intruders. It was a wonder the bull could walk, let alone swim with such a set of cum-factories resting between his legs.
Finally, the flare. By now the dark shades of Cole’s base had long transformed into a lustful pink head, devoid of mottling and similarly engorged akin to its medial ring. It was no wonder with all cum churning away inside his overfilled balls, the poor boy must be ready to blow his load at a moment’s notice. Even as he lay asleep, his breeding pole rose with a gentling dipping arc, the spongy flare at its tip slightly wet with the same viscous substance that had left Moxxie redecorating the yacht, the same way this cock would no doubt redecorate the imps’ insides too if it had its way.
The blanket fell from Moxxie and Mille’s grasp, hitting the ground alongside their jaws. What little plan they had managed to hold together, quickly disintegrating as the heady musk washed over them, undiluted by clothes or water. If they had any hope left for completing the mission unscathed, it was shattered as a satisfied sigh escaped Cole’s dreaming form.
“Mmm. Moxxine.” The beasthood twitched, its scent intensifying. “Millerd . . welcome . . to the . .team.” His cock twitched again, throbbing higher and higher as the minotaur’s dreams grew in detail.
Moxxie slowly turned his head to Mille.
Millie turned her head towards Moxxie.
“I was thinking . . .”
“That it’d be a waste to put him out to pasture without a taste for ourselves?”
The couple nodded to each other.
With their thong-shorts and skinny-jeans quickly discarded, the two imps sat side-by-side atop the narrow end of the bed that wasn’t already occupied by Cole’s massive nuts. There was a facade of carefulness they still shared, as they pressed their cheeks together and began to run their forked tongues over the leaking flare, but it was soon shattered as the heady flavour took control.
Moxxie’s eyes grew glossy and vacant as he made out with the musky head, leaving lipstick kisses across its spongy texture. The narcotic high was even worse than last time, and once again the imp couldn’t resist wrapping a fist around his own thickening, pre-soaked member, desperately beating his dick like it owed him money. The taste was so fresh this time. So hot. So . . manly, in ways that the femme imp boy wasn’t. It wasn’t like making love to his wife, it was closer to utter mindless submission before a higher, heavier, muskier power. This wasn’t love. It was barely even lust. This was worship.
Millie couldn’t keep her eyes open, instead clenching them tight as her fingers jammed inside her gushing pussy to try and plug the leak. Not that her husband or her sleeping lover would be able to see, having positioned her head directly beneath Cole’s oversized bollocks, smothering her head whilst her tongue whipped out wildly around each fat nut in turn. These fat nuts that had nearly been slamming into her new shortstack ass if she hadn’t held back. These fat nuts she should have been choking on beneath the chemistry desk instead of fingering herself silly to their outline. These fat nuts that were now bouncing against her heaving tits, threatening to smother and suffocate her if she lingered for too long. What a way to go though . . .
The couple both moaned into their respective mass of giant horsecock as their climaxes struck. Fem-squirt and imp-cum shot with violent force into the musky air, spraying each of their partner’s bodies in lusty juices as well as splattering against the huge girth that lay between them. Moxxie locked his lips around that delicious vessel of pre-seed as his thick ropes streaked across Millie’s shaking thighs, whilst she in turn came like a waterfall against his waist, trying to imitate a fiery squirrel stuffing its cheeks.
A moment of post-nut clarity washed over them, both imps panting for air as the fat cock only seemed to grow more rigid and erect, feeding off of their lusts. They gazed up at the engorging flare, their holes hungry for more.
Moxxie won the coin-toss, leaving Millie to return to her spit-shining whilst her husband began to climb the rising peak of cock.
His heart was beating a frantic rhythm in his chest now, the imposing heat of the minotaur girth looking oh so much bigger as Moxxie grasped the lipstick-coated head and started to guide the beast towards his own generous asscheeks. They were nothing on Millie’s new cushions, but the gunman had always believed his butt to be especially round and smackable compared to most. He could feel his – what was the term Blitz used, oh right – red bussy tightening in anticipation. Winking and tensing as it prepared to wrap around a cock that had yet to arrive.
If only the damned thing would bend right so Moxxie could fit it inside, but this thing was so hard now, he’d had an easier time trying to bend iron. It didn’t help that this Cole-pole looked about the size of the diminutive imp’s torso.
Moxxie tried to keep his balance as he placed one hoove onto the Millie-smothering balls, then the other, letting the horsecock slide alongside his meaty cheeks, practically burning against his imp-hole it had grown so hot.
“Almost got it.” Much like the immovable nature of this cock, Moxxie felt how weightless he was to the dark nutsack that was currently reducing Millie to a frothing mess. Good, just get a little higher and finally he’d finally be able to feel this thing inside him before they were-
“Need a little help there, Moxxine?”
“Wuh?” Was all Moxxie had time to say before a pair of firm, olive-dark hands grasped his tight waist and lifted him up the remaining inches to finally sit against that leaky flare. He could feel that wicked precum already dripping against his asshole, lubing him up for the final push.
“You know, you could’ve just knocked. But if you want to be a bad girl like that . . .” One of those hands slipped up to Moxxie’s throat, tightening just enough to make his ruby cock start hardening all over again. “Then I’ll have to punish you like one.”
The other hand tugged Moxxie down and his vision turned to stars. For a moment, he thought he might be in Heaven, a victim of auto-erotic annihilation like the celebrities you read about who somehow orgied themselves to death. But Heaven didn’t smell like breeder musk nor would it have Millie already there, slamming her fingers between her legs as she watched him return to reality.
A flared bulge jutted against Moxxie’s stomach, filling him with a warm sensation somewhere between hard drugs and a weekend-long turn on the Dragon-Driller. That was new. Before his sex-fried brain could consider this further, he felt himself rising again as the bulge only slightly lessened. ‘I am going to die on this thing’, Moxxie thought with a mad smile across his lip-sticked smeared lips. He felt gravity and Cole’s grip move him once more, ramming the monstercock even deeper inside his guts than before.
“Who’s a bad girl?” Cole whispered into the imp’s ear, exquisitely stripping the air from Moxxie’s brain.
“I AM, DADDY!” Those were the only words the imp could scream now as he felt the massive girth begin plunging back and forth, pounding his ‘bussy’ like Cole was the male lead of some sordid harlequin romance, ripping open the bodice and claiming his desired partner as passions overtook them both. “DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!” The only word the femme imp could even remember as he rocked up and down on ‘Daddy’s’ fat fucking horsecock that was ruining him so good.
It had been too long as Moxxie had felt a real cock in his ass, and this was the most ‘real’ cock he knew he would ever take. Being pegged felt good and the ever-cycling toy collection meant things always stayed fresh. But there was something about the twitching veins, the throbbing heat, the press of a leaky cock head against his prostate that made Moxxie just melt differently when a big slab of man was inside him.
He felt the cool wall press on his freckled cheek as Cole started to take him against it, those giant cumtanks of his clapping Moxxie’s red cheeks even redder as he humped the naughty imp into mush. The sudden change was just enough to shake a little sense back into the femme killer and say something. Tell Cole to stop? Never, not in a million years and especially not with Millie cumming her brains out only inches away. Then what?
“I h-have a-a d-dick!” He struggled, gasping each letter as he felt Cole try to fuck him through the wall. Moxxie wasn’t sure if he’d said that as a matter of courtesy or if at least it might make the rutting bull stop a moment to let the imp breath. Instead he felt the hand around his throat squeeze just a little more, sending spots dancing across his vision, as Cole’s other hand grasped the traitorous erection jutting beneath the shadow of the flared bulge.
“More of you to punish then. Be sure to take Daddy’s load like a good girl now.”
Moxxie’s world turned white as his cock exploded in Cole’s fingers. More so than all his loads he had spilled within the yacht or his pants today combined, the minotaur somehow knew exactly how to milk every last drop of seed from his smaller mate.
At the same time, as if in response to Moxxie making a mess of his right hand, Cole swelled deep inside the imp’s tight ruby hole. It was inevitable now but still Moxxie could now only degenerate further into begging.
“Give it to me, Daddy! Give it to me give it to me giveittome!”
The flare’s outline ballooned then disappeared as the equine distention in Moxxie’s stomach was replaced by a boiling hot balloon of daddy-cum. His eyes rolled epilepticly to gaze into his own skull, unable to handle the orgasm ripping through him, his ejaculating imp-cock and well-battered prostate both Cole’s to ruin whilst dumping an entire theatre’s worth of semen inside Moxxie’s ass. He could feel those humongous balls pulling tight against his clapping cheeks, the only warning before another load swelled within the imp, painting his guts like the inside of that yacht.
Moxxie’s legs had long given out, but still Daddy held him upright, Daddy was still inside him, punishing him for being such a wicked tease, for trying to fuck his massive cock without asking for permission. Daddy needed to still empty his big, heavy balls into his good girl’s tight, grasping hole and that’s exactly what Moxxie would let him do!
The last load had reduced Moxxie into the bloated twin of a red-skinned water-balloon, or a Moxxie-patterned condom would be a better analogy. Either way, he slid down the bedroom wall, freckled features locked into a still ongoing ahegao, the weight of his cumflated stomach still causing his well-milked dick to dry-orgasm against the virile burden. A last full-body shudder wracked his ruined form when Cole finally unsheathed from him, proving the imp was still alive, merely deep in brain-rotting bliss.
“Whew, your sister is really something, right, new meat?” Cole turned with a smile, his engorged hole-wrecker now aimed towards the prone Millie who for all that was unholy still couldn’t stop stirring up her pussy.
It was like there was some impossible-to-reach itch deep inside her. Fingers couldn’t touch it. Cumming had somehow only made things worse. But this stallion cock staring her down, she knew that could reach it.
“C-Cole, I g-gotta tell yyou some-thing.” It was hard to speak with her fingers still knuckle-deep and the taste of his stud-brew infecting the air around her. Maybe if she could just come one more time, then she’d be fine. That’d make everything easy again. No more hard words or urges telling her to rip off every shred of clothing on her body. She’d be normal, ordinary Millie again, a content housewife who wouldn’t be jilling herself senseless to the thought of her husband getting railed by a cock half his entire size.
“Is it that you have a pussy, bro? Because I’m honestly not that shocked by this point. Or is it that you and your sister like to share partners, because I’m okay with that too.” He shifted closer, dropping the weight of his girthy shaft against Millie’s pussy, spreading her lips like an axe through wood. It would be insanely hot how he just pushed her fingers away with just the heft of his cock if he wasn’t also so at ease with everything!
His energetic flare squished back and forth against her trembling clit, so thick and meaty, with only a hint of give following the act of destroying her husband. The cockhead continued to grind along her soaked cleft, looking for a way to fit inside her, sensing how she ached to be crushed by its unstoppable need.
A shot of viscous pre-cum, so virile that she could smell its potency, unexpectedly ejaculated from the cunt-frotting beasthood. It splattered across her lower torso, tracing the location of her womb as if to foreshadow the approaching deed. Or perhaps the horsecock could sense her needy core and like a mindless beast would be content to mark the spot with its seed on instinct alone.
Millie’s cunt let out another sudden spray of needy squirt over the husband-wrecker preparing to destroy her in turn. Okay, maybe it was still insanely hot.
“N-no, n-not th-th-that. Its-its that, its th-that we came here, not j-just for sex.” Millie licked her dry lips, trying desperately to maintain her train of thought whilst at the same time she knew a fresh load was being stirred inside those obese nuts to feed her hungry cleft.
“We-we came here al-also to- . . . to, to k-kill you.” That did give the minotaur a moment’s pause, though nothing about his throbbing cock seemed to wilt at the sudden revelation.
“I see . . . Are you still going to kill me after this?”
“Wha? I-I mean, n-no!”
“Not even a little?”
“Only if it’s because I’ll smother you to death with the fat ass those weird energy drinks gave me!”
“Good enough for me!” With no further warning, that fat flare thrusted forward, burying itself in Millie’s womb with no respect for decency or her cervix. Not that she was complaining, instead wrapping her shortstacked legs around Cole’s waist in the single-minded desire that he never exit her body.
Rather than taking her against the same wall her husband had shot with his own ropes, Millie found herself getting fucked harder and deeper downward into the mattress. Her fattened ass pancaked into the bed, rippling with each pussy-breaking thrust of this massive stallion trying to rut her like a mare. Finally scratching that itch with his rampaging bullcock, fucking a flared outline into her torso that bucked angry up into the cleavage of these new dick-smothering breasts.
“We-are-al-so-hus-band-and-wife!” Her words shook on each syllable as each thrust drove the remaining air from her lung, cramming her with so much cock in its place.
“Brother and sister and husband and wife? That makes sense, I mean I did detect a hint of a southern accent.” Cole began to drive even harder into the increasingly delirious imp, his cock visibly swelling within her at the taboo taste. The dormroom bed began creaking louder with these hungrier thrusts, shuddered as the bull seemed all the more eager to fuck a Millie sized crater into his mattress. If there was any doubt of this homewrecking brute stopping his tour of the couple's holes, it was now long gone.
The stretched walls of her cunt tried to squeeze and milk more of the vein-riddled inches with powerful kegels that matched her surprisingly sturdy build. Even if it was now wrapped in this new cock-stiffening mantle of ass and tit.
Millie grabbed her bronco's head by his oversized mane and shoved it down into her chest-melons, motorboating the bull's face with demanding strength. “Stop talking. Now suck my tits and don't stop fucking me, cowboy!” She ordered even whilst still dangling beneath his body like a rodeo clown trapped beneath a steer, desperately clinging to life. Or in her case, clinging to her next orgasm as the rutting beast began fucking pealing off the X-tape pasties that protected her nipples with his long bull tongue alone. He spared no time attacking her hardened tips as commanded, each roll of his dextrous mouth-muscle setting off another set of fireworks down into her clit.
It must have looked ridiculous to an outsider, the smaller curvy body of the imp attached like a limpet to the larger beast, skewered on a horsecock that looked like it was trying to use her stacked breasts as a second pussy. The bedframe wincing with each heavy-nutted slam downward into the overstacked imp. And yet still she was throwing her cunt back against his medial ring, eager to tame every inch of his brute even if it meant she'd have to wear him down by using her womb as bait!
Cole could utter no words as he continued to suck upon Millie’s milkers, but still a hoarse voice called out to her. “He's gonna cum, Mills. I can see those fucking giant nuts of his pulling higher, get ready to empty inside you.” Somewhere the voice of her husband called to her before the familiar sound of Moxxie stroking his cock replaced any remaining speech he possessed. It didn’t matter now, she was finally about to get her share of premium stallion jizz, $10k a bottle, all about to unload directly into her womb.
She threw her body one last time against the bucking cock, feeling her tenderised cunt finally accepting the enormous girth of that medial ring. The bull could do what he will to her body, she had already won.
“Do it, stud. Turn me into one of your mares. Reshape my insides. Fuck your horsecock into my soul!”
Breeder spunk instantly bloated Millie’s torso as each thick rope after thick rope poured another gallon of virile minotaur cum into her torrentially squirting pussy. But whilst Millie's toe-curling, obscenity-spewing orgasm was plenty satisfied with the growing amount of her body mass that was now horsecock and cum, there were limits even for this infernal shortstack. Whilst imps were naturally stretchy and fuckable by their hellish physiology, it seemed even the makers of the Pit had not prepared against this kind of rutting power . Pressurised seed that had nowhere further to fill blasted back across her thighs and the failing bed, as each thrust seemed to throw even more cum inside her and produce a new, audible crack in the wooden frame.
“I LOVE HORSECOCK!” Those were Millie’s last words before the first bed leg splintered, dropping her down a sudden half-foot of elevation before the rest of Cole's cock caught up with her and slammed home. She couldn’t feel anything else, not her fucked-silly face nor her sheet-ripping hands, all she was was her pussy and that fucking monster cock still cumming inside her. The entire building could collapse from the force of these ass-bruising testicals for all Millie cared. She barely noticed the rest of the bed breaking apart beneath her. All she wanted was this cock to keep churning her up until she begged for mercy.
***
“Now. Seeing as we’re all finally on the same page about this whole murder business, I feel you two still need to go a little further to show me you’re not just waiting to start murdering again.”
On the remains of Cole’s bed, Moxxie and Millie now laid side-by-side. Or more accurately, Moxxie was currently balls-deep in Millie’s cum-soaked pussy as they laid on their sides, offering a pair of juicy imp-asses for Cole to plunder.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. Please take our asses as an apology.” Moxxie apologised even as his hips thrusted wildly into his wife. He’d couldn’t stop himself, she looked so fucking hot, filled with another man’s cum like she was nine months pregnant. It only made him love her more, even as he simultaneously was just as eager for another round with the same man whose cum Moxxie’s smaller-but-sizable impcock was churning up inside her.
“Yeah, stud. Mwah . We’re reeaal sorry. Mwah. Hopefully fucking a naughty husband-and-wife at the same time can make up for our little bit of trying to kill you. Mwah mwah mwah.” Millie also did her best to apologise whilst feverishly kissing her husband’s darling face. Something about feeling how hard he was right now, even as he smelled like a hellbronco’s breeding mount, made her want to fuck him all the more. Moxxie never got this hard, he was really trying to damage her right now and she loved it. And now they could truly hold nothing back, they were both a pair of horny, minotaur-fucking sluts and learning that about one another had only brought them closer together. About another inch or two closer together, if Moxxie’s new hyper-aroused length was anything to go by.
A lustful snort escaped the bull as he grabbed a wobbling flank each with one hand, feeling the different consistencies. Millie’s firm muscle hidden behind a sudden influx of thick, tender ass meat that could easily squeeze a dick to completion alone. Moxxie’s naturally slappable rear that was all jiggle and give and ready to please, the product of regular pegging to create such a fat cushion.
“I accept your apologies.” He didn’t give the horny couple a moment to think, plunging his ramrod into one quaking imp hole before switching nearly instantly to the other. Moxxie and Mille shared increasingly frenzied lips-stick-smeared kisses with one another, hands grabbing tits, fingers around throats. Their moans rising as one as they were simultaneously ploughed by the same fat cocked brute.
“K-keep fuckin’ me M-Moxxie. Really fuck me up! Give me another wombful of cum. Empty everything you got left inside me!”
“I love you so fucking much, Millie. I can’t hold back much longer, you feel so good, like you were made for me!”
They watched each other in turn, their loving spouse being suddenly bulged by the invading horsecock, drooling from the mouth at the moment of absolute deepest, soul-smothering penetration before it suddenly became the other’s turn again. And so the three each bucked their hips faster and faster. Occasionally an errant shot of bull-seed struck Moxxie’s freckled face or Millie’s heaving chest, but that only gave the other the opportunity to turn their passionate kisses into face-devouring lust, their forked tongues hungrily cleaning any mess that Cole made.
“You two are so fucking romantic. It’s gonna make me come too, if you keep tightening up like this.”
“Breed our asses, cowboy!”
“Fuck us harder, Daddy!”
Three climaxes hit at once. The two imps locked like soulmates in what could only be the most degenerate equivalent of couple’s missionary sex that had ever been conceived – Holding hands, kissing in classic dick-in-pussy intercourse, whilst a horsecock larger than either two of their legs combined pumped a flood of extramarital seed inside their respective assholes. The couple could only feel closer as their cumflated guts pushed together in wedded bliss, Moxxie dumping his own ecstatic loads into Millie’s waiting cunt with a creamy tide of horse jizz covering them both inside and out.
“Whew.” Cole said, wiping his brow before gazing down at the off-white ruins of his two prospective killers, both equal parts still trying to eat each other’s faces alongside licking any trace of his cum remaining spilled from the menage-e-trois. “Anyone tired yet?”
“No!”
“No!”
***
“Listen up dipshits, the client’s on the phone and– wait a second.” Blitzo left his bejewelled riding crop half raised in the air as his usually uncaring gaze suddenly focused on his two employees, both seated before him with a little more glee than he liked. He took a whiff of them both – an act who usually just saved for Moxxie in his sleep – before clutching his nose.
“You two smell like a orgy that crashed into a sperm clinic and then had another orgy with all the clinic staff inside and next-door’s jockey club. What the fuck?”
“Apologies, Sir.” Moxxie replied, a dreamy look in his eyes telling unpresent he was in the moment.
“Yeah . . we’re real sorry.” Millie added, ending with a pleased giggle that she couldn’t quite suppress.
Blitzo knew the look of someone who had been well-fucked, he was something of a conissuer when it came to giving people the time of their lives. But even after presumably a shower, a change of clothes and the chance to walk through Hell’s prevailing smog, the happy couple reeked of sex.
“That’ll probably be this.” Moxxie offered, pushing a stained grimoire across the table. To Blitzo’s expert eye, it had clearly been at ground zero to a thirty man bukkake. Was this what married couples got up to now? Is this what Moxxie meant by having a book club? “It belongs to the Malphas client, but we may have had a little too much fun with it.”
“Oh, that creepy perv crow, right? He’s on hold with Loona right now, said you two stole something from him.”
“We did, Sir, but you have to understand. We couldn’t help-”
“Shut up, Mox. I didn’t ask for your life story. Hey Mills, was the sex worth screwing over this hoity-toity bird?”
“Yeah, Sir. It honestly was great!”
“Then you two go be all gooey somewhere else. I’ll take this and store it in the safe. And I’ll deal with the client, fucking idiot already paid anyway. Just make sure if you need your orgy book again, it doesn’t interfere with work, got it? Booking a fucking Lay-cation next time, instead of getting up to your book clubs on the company’s dime. Understood?”
The tall imp strode out of the office with a satisfied swagger, throwing the ruined grimoire to his bored hellhound of a daughter. In her defence, she was trying to look like she cared about the asshole client’s complaints even if all she’d done was keep the receiver off the base and let the crow squawk into the open air.
“Throw this in the safe, would ya, Loonie?”
“What the fuck is on this thing?” She said, disturbed by the book that looked like it was carrying enough DNA to be the victim of a special crimes division.
“Probably the unborn children of the entire Phantom of the Opera theatre crew. Just put it in the safe and give me the turkey.”
“Gladly.” She said, offering Blitzo the receiver which he gladly took with a polite clearing of his throat.
“Ahem.”
“-And another thing, if my father hears about this, you can be sure that he will rain so much hellfire on your shithole of a business, you won’t be able to wipe without tasting ash!”
“I said, ahem!”
“So, who cares, imp. Where’s my fucking book?”
“Oh, you mean the same fucking book that I’m currently wiping my ass with. That fucking book.”
“You piece of shit,” Malphas screeched from the other end of the line. “If you don’t return my property, I’ll break your legs myself, after I’ve sent over my-”
“Oh I know you won’t be sending anybody, dumbass. I know an illegal grimoire when I see one and let me tell you that I’ve taken craps that were scarier than people like you. You think Daddy’s money means you matter? Well newsflash shit for brains, it doesn’t. And I know when some basement-dwelling, tissue-wasting asshole is trying to bluff. If Daddy hears that you lost his – no wait let me try that again – if Daddy hears that you first stole AND THEN lost his shitty grimoire, the only thing you’re going to hit is the poverty line!”
Loona stepped away from Blitzo’s increasingly bullshit-riddled threats, but she smiled as the client grew quieter and quieter with each new lie the imp fed him. Now she just had to dump this dumb book in the safe.
It had a strange smell to it. Something that lingered around her powerful canine senses with potent promise of its own, producing a tightness in her furred chest.
She looked behind herself as she stepped into Blitzo’s empty office, making sure no one could see what she was considering. Surely one deep breath of this mysterious musk couldn’t hurt? Surely not.