Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Urotsukidoji - Presidential Duties.	By : Nickamano Category: +S to Z > Urotsuki-doji Views: 94 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Neither Urotsukidoji or any related materials are owned by me. This was created for entertainment purposes only, and I am not profiting financially from the creation of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Karen and Sam were pressed firmly together, torso to torso and lips to lips, adding a visual dimension to the four-person orgy they were now the filling of. The two astronauts were using them from behind, kneeling between their spread thighs, hands gripping their hips, thrusting cocks between gym-honed buttocks.
Karen had her hands all over Sam’s full breasts, squeezing and stroking the smooth goose-bumped flesh while she gently flicked and rolled her stiff nipples. Sam’s hands were encircling Karen’s lean lithe body tightly, holding her in a warm, sweaty embrace. The two men’s animated rampant thrusting was slamming the women’s bodies together while Sam and Karen continued to French kiss voraciously, lips locked, tongues dancing, circling and spooning.

Immediately before this, the two women had simultaneously sucked off the men, half taking a rough face fuck, half working a female-controlled blow job, sucking and licking with passion and energy until the men had noisily emptied their balls. The women had kept the collected seed in their mouths, coming together on their knees and joining lips, allowing the semen and saliva concoction to mingle and mix, snowballing from mouth to mouth back and forth. The agents, moaned and whimpered in their mutual embrace. Still, hard and unsatisfied, the men knelt behind them, spread their taut buttocks and pushed ruddy looking erections back inside the girls for yet another turn. Groaning in mindless pleasure, the two female agents kept up the free-flowing semen and saliva back and forth, as well as their frantic dancing of tongues and mouthing lips, while they got solidly fucked from behind.

Sam had the hairy guy’s cock in her ass again. He seemed to like it there, a kink maybe. It was the third time he had made use of her back door so far, and Sam was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Karen had the blond guy pounding her pussy. He was quick and almost belligerent with his hard fucking combined with a strong possessive manhandling of her body, but that’s what they were there for. It had been their instructions from their master, to give the men what they wanted and exactly how they wanted it. No matter what. And working hard to adhere to their master’s wishes, the women were having the time of their lives, happy to be fulfilling his commands, while silently looking forward to the promised reward in due course.
Even though they both understood that his reward was somewhere down the line. Perhaps even as far ahead as the following day. They had a long time to go yet and they needed these two essential but lowly guys utterly fucked out of their minds; satiated and utterly loyal to their new master, until he was ready to make use of them.
No, there was plenty more fucking and sucking to get through yet. Though Sam and Karen knew all too well that their skills and their bodies were up to the task and their eventual reward, once attended to, would be nothing less than divine.

The President had fucked Ali’s face for more drawn-out minutes of what had become sheer torture. Eventually, he had tossed her on her back onto his desk and fucked her throat some more. While rapidly pumping his hips, he casually finished unbuttoning her dress so that it was held in place, like a robe, only by her belt.
Yanking the top half wider, scooping back off her shoulders he exposed her magnificent breasts, already well lubricated by her overflow of saliva. Having squeezed, hefted and slapped the delectable and impossibly pert teenage orbs for a few seconds, pinching and pulling at her nipples, he somehow bent to suck and nibble at them.
Ali continued to shiver under his assault, gagging on him each time he invaded her throat, her eyes rolling back in her head due to his raw, passionately unconcerned attentions.
Having enjoyed his fill of gorging on her swollen nipples, he had climbed up on top of the broad desk, straddling her and sliding his big angry looking cock into her cleavage, snatching up her perky boobs in both big hands to tit fuck her.
She was sweaty, panting and moaning continually, half out of her mind with want, desire, need. She had already climaxed twice just by his aggressive touch and his obvious rampant lust for her. But the necessity to have him inside her pussy was too much for her to take. However, she couldn’t even vocalise the request. It felt demanding of her better, her President. So, she just knelt there, or lay there, taking his lust and his inflictions of pain and discomfort until he decided he was ready.

When he was finally prepared, Kennedy climbed off her, off the desk and put himself back onto his feet. Unlike Ali, who was quivering all over with fatigue and probably dehydration, the President appeared to brim an inexhaustible charge of vigour. Tossing clear the length of his robe to the back of his bare legs, he casually slid down into the plush oversized office chair, waving at her to join him. His cock was jutting, swollen and blood filled so it took on that purple-ish hue with the solid beet-red crown she had seen before. It was very much a fifth extremity, jutting up from its pubic nest, itself glistening beautifully under the lamplight, mostly with her own bodily secretions.
Ali couldn’t believe she hadn’t brought him to climax yet. His big manly balls were still full, heavy and swollen, from her perspective in desperate need and deserving of being emptied. Well, that was what she was about to do next with her tight little teenage pussy.

She had wanted to strut sexily across the carpet and tease him on her way to his lap. But the dire intensity of her own desire and that ravenous look in his eyes had her hurrying, her exposed boobs quivering enticingly in the ‘V’ of her unbuttoned neckline. Her nipples were achingly hard and appeared to have caught John’s attention, his Elvis curled mouth spread into a smile.
She straddled his thighs, leaning in to kiss him, moaning as his hands cupped and squeezed her breasts hard, almost with cruelty, before his grasp slid down her sides, around her narrow waist and then under the back of her dress to grab a hard two-handed grip of her smooth little buttocks.
They kissed, his breath surprisingly saccharine, his lips warm against hers. She teased his tongue, drawing him into her mouth but then he drove his thick organ deeper into her mouth just like he had his penis, filling and stretching the orifice, making her choke, tickling her uvula, even lapping in a swirl around the entrance to her throat. It all made her cough and groan and shiver with shock, but she didn’t pull back. She was his to enjoy after all. He was her President. He pulled back, squeezing her ass more tightly as he lifted her body up a couple of inches. Their mouths parted and she found herself staring down into his upturned face.

“Turn around, Ali. I want you the other way. Slide yourself down onto my Johnson.”
“Yes John.” She gasped.

She slid off him, and quickly flipped up the rear of her dress, showing off her perfectly rounded young ass cheeks, enjoying the little groan that he unleashed at the sight she gave him. He crossed his thighs, reaching forward and grabbing her hips in both powerful hands, helping to guide her back toward his waiting erection.

It was throbbing so much that it ached more than ever, anticipating the satin sleeve of her tight young cunt. The heat of her as, using the fingers of one hand, she held her vulva spread while the other hand gripped the root of his erection.

In fact, feeling it in her hand, barely able to contain its girth between her fingers and thumb, she marvelled that she had somehow contained its shocking proportion inside her mouth, never mind down her throat. For a moment she wondered if he had somehow grown bigger since then. He certainly felt like he had, as she felt her labia parted and spread around that searing hot head. But that couldn’t be true, could it? Sure, cocks could get harder and bloat a little when they were close to climax but not to any notable extent.

Her thought process was slammed straight out of her head as the hands gripping her hips abruptly pulled her down onto that big impaler. Her whole overheating body started to throb bewilderingly as he filled and stretched her pussy more than she had ever experienced before. Her walls felt over-stretched over-loaded, over-filled. And then he instigated the bounce of her body on his cock, silently voicing his requirement, and she lost all ability to think consciously.

Sam was taking a little break while the two astronauts took a turn at gangbanging Karen. She was sore, bruised and full of cum. Her influence on the men, via her master’s gifts, had given the guys superior stamina and enough seed to fill both girls a dozen times over. She didn’t know the how or why and she didn’t care, the feeling of that hot plentiful load being violently blasted into whichever orifice was better than anything she had experienced before.
Worth the admission price in itself.
She watched them sandwiching Karen, enjoying the rutting pleasure vicariously. The blond guy breaking in Karen’s ass doggie style while the hairy guy lay beneath her allowing the blond’s vigorous thrusts to shunt Karen’s pussy back and forth along his shaft. He had also, somehow shifted himself about beneath her so he could get a nipple into his mouth.
Meanwhile Karen’s face was a picture in itself, twisted up features, wide open mouth, drawn back lips, nostrils flared, eyes screwed up tight. The face could have been agony or ecstasy but the pronounced flush to her cheeks and neck revealed the pleasure she was experiencing.
Sam, though sore and bloated felt envious and wanted to get back into the fray. She stood up and went over to the blond guy, slid in against him and turned his head so she could kiss him.
Instantly it brought out a moan from Karen, as though Sam’s lips on his had done something to his cock that Karen was responding to. She intensified the kiss, shifting herself to allow the astronaut’s questing hand to reach around and cup one of her full breasts, thumbing the nipple so that Sam gasped into his open mouth. He thrust his tongue in deep and she locked her lips around it, devouring his deep probing kiss.

Kicking off against one of the big turned legs of the Presidential desk, the big office chair wheeled across the carpet, drawing them into a new position in the centre of the room. Once stationary, Kennedy slid his hands up Ali’s ribs and captured her boobs in his big palms, cupping the soft orbs firmly while she thrust herself up and down, using her grasp of the padded arms of the chair to aid her.
She worked herself along his erection, her shoulders already starting to protest at the weight they had to take as she lifted and lowered herself and at a pace she would not have described as leisurely. Kennedy shifted his cupping grasp of her boobs a little and used his forefingers and thumbs to snatch up her stiff nipples. He pincered them, stretched them out, rolling them like radio dials, making her gasp and whimper all the more. She noticed that her vocal response seemed to make his cock harden further inside her, pressing against her gripping tunnel walls.
All too soon though, John was jerking upward with his hips. And shockingly powerful in his exertions She found herself thrust bodily upward by a good six inches, before dropping back down onto the hot brick of his meat. His bloated head punching at her cervix each time, and snatching additional whimpering gasps out of the teen’s slender throat.

It took a few seconds for the couple no take note that the Presidential hotline was ringing. The rhythmic thrusting staggered to halt and then, before Ali even knew why, she was lifted up off his lap and his erection. And powerfully so, as though she was weightless. She couldn’t help the little moan of disappointment at the feel of his big, pussy-stretching length abandoning her, and even more so as John slid out from under her the casually plonked her back on the seat in his stead.
That was the moment her attention registered the noise of the phone console, and belatedly understanding why her pleasure had been so cruelly interrupted. She instantly felt cold and alone. She pulled the sides of the crumpled and sweat-soaked dress loosely around her, as she watched Kennedy cross the floor, pulling his robe closed as he strode over to the side table. He picked up the phone receiver.
Ali sat and listened, her body slowly cooling and calming of its recently heightened erotic heat. She forced herself to pay attention to the phone call in order to lessen the hurt that was suffusing her body by the sorrowful loss of all that sensual pleasure. It was not an easy task.
Still, it was so quiet in the room - the lack of background noise, birdsong, wind in trees, growl of passing vehicles, the intermittent blaring of car horns, shouting - it allowed her to listen into both sides of the conversation easily.

“Hello?” Kennedy said,
“Mr President.” Came the tinny reply. “The rest of our wing arrived in the target area. We are ready for the attack. Please clarify the target, Sir?”
“The City of Osaka, Japan.”
“Japan, Osaka, Sir?”
“We have located the Infernal thing’s origin there.”
“As you command, Sir. Target Osaka, Japan. Specifics, Sir? Particular location?”
“I want Osaka Castle designated as ground zero, I want that thing bombed into oblivion.”
“Roger that, Sir. Crosshairs on Osaka castle. Osaka, Japan.”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you, Mr President.”

Kennedy replaced the receiver, grinning like the Cheshire cat. The grin quickly turned into a full-on belly laugh. Ali watched him, as bewildered as she was still aroused.

“My mission is complete.” He said, though it didn’t feel aimed at Ali.
“John, what are you...?” She asked.

He didn’t answer her at once. He starred at her, holding her eyes for a moment but he really seemed to be looking through her. Then his gaze slowly dipped, taking in her throat and collar bones, her chest. She shifted herself, deliberately allowing the top of her dress to belly open, freeing her boobs for his hungry gaze. His eyes continued southward. She halfway wanted to spread her thighs for him, to hook one leg over the chair arm, to offer her still drooling and swollen pussy to his fiery gaze, but she held off.
Again, she found herself liking the idea of teasing him a little more, of not immediately giving into him, a refrain from giving him everything of her. Even though she was all his forever, and they both knew it. Instead, delaying, she left her legs crossed but idly used a caress along the top of the upper thigh to draw back the length of her unbuttoned dress, so that her entire leg from toes to hip was exposed in one long, supple, creamy display.

As though choosing to raise the stakes, Kennedy casually slid a hand down the side of his own pink robe, the motion of his smoothing hand flowing down his ribs, in at the waist and then over his hip and upper thigh, parted the fold-over united the loose belt and allowed his burgeoning penis to reemerge, thickening and lengthening before her eyes; once again highlighted by that table lamp. Keeping his gaze on her, he moved over to the drapery covered window, so strange to think of one on a space station.
Ali hadn’t really thought about it. However, she might have assumed it would be a mock-window, some large painting underneath, perhaps a view across the White House lawn or something. Yet, she wasn’t thinking of that, she was thinking about how powerful, yet graceful John had moved in those few steps from the phone to the window. How his glorious cock, rather than swaying and bobbing around as she might have expected, actually remained still, jutting forward as though it had an actual bone inside it, as though it was another limb.
Her mouth watered. She wanted him to pound her throat sore with that thing all over again. She wanted him to make use of her, to take her roughly, to bend her to his will, to dominate her. To use her in whatever way he desired.

He drew back that deep red curtain, revealing it as a real life square-shaped glass panel. A God-almighty window in space, and not one of those little thick porthole things they have on the ISS. It was at least five-foot by five-foot. And the view outside was truly breathtaking. A segment view of the earth. Clouds blanketing much of the spherical shape, sunlight reflecting off those dense white puffs of cotton candy, while the boundless cosmos filled in the background.
It took her a while, peering through and between clouds to make out the landmasses that were visible beneath. It took longer still to understand what she was seeing. Foolishly, she had assumed it would be the east coast of North America, but it wasn’t. It was entirely the opposite side of the globe. And it was inversely oriented too.
She noted the curve of China, no, that would be Russia, Siberia. She recognised the jut of the Korean peninsula. So, the banana shaped Island cluster off it would be Japan, though most of it was covered by dense grey clouds.

She remembered John mentioning Osaka, and remembered analysing maps back in High School geography, or had it been history? She remembered at least that Osaka was at the tip of an inlet on the southern coast, roughly southwest of Tokyo. Even as the thought sprang into her head, the clouds above Japan were lit up from beneath, as though by some huge fireball. White to yellow to orange bursts, the cloudscape in turmoil, roiling and then beginning to dissipate, to be replaced with dense black smoke, shot through with red. A second similar explosion close to the first appeared, and then a third, evaporating and displacing more of the cloud as roiling black smoke, touched with flame, emerged from beneath, like a poisonous mushroom breaking through its surface soil.

“There is not any ‘back’ anymore.” President Kennedy said. “He has risen and He will destroy everything.”

His words, though not obscured by his continual laughter, still made no sense to Ali, but that didn’t matter to her, because he had turned back to look back at her from across the room.
His eyes were inexplicably glowing red. She assumed it was just reflected light from those explosions over Japan. Which was when it also occurred to her, all of a sudden that those explosions must have been gigantic! To be seen from up in space like that? Surely, they had to have been nukes? Had they nuked Japan? Again?

The terrible thought didn’t last because John, smiling, had allowed the curtain to drop back, mostly concealing the view from the window. And yet his eyes were still glowing red. And not just reflected or some kind of metaphorical inner fire of passion; this was full on glowing like “Ghostbusters” SFX red.
That grin was also taking on a whole new aspect that Ali didn’t much like. Unable to look away, she felt herself shiver.
She became intimately aware of the two dead Secret Service agents lying on the carpet near the door. The female agent that had shot one them in the back and then walked away. Leaving her and the President alone. Alone. Up in space hundreds of miles above the Earth with no way to get back without his by-your-leave. She felt all the blood leave her face, her mouth felt dry and gummy, her hands shaking.

“Let's do it... one last time.” He said, still laughing.

The laughter was almost annoying for Ali, it was practically manic, not Presidential at all. However, almost at once, that mild grievance was forgotten. A flicker of light revealed something, somewhere deep in the back of his open mouth. By the time Ali had noticed it and frowned, it had filled the cavity behind his perfect teeth. A black orb, like he had a Magic 8-ball stuck in his mouth. His teeth bent forward, pressured by the glistening sphere’s advance. From then on everything Ali witnessed became utterly nightmarish. The tendons in his neck bulged and twisted, taking on an almost inhuman appearance. His eyes lost all their humanity, their life, dulling until they resembled glass doll’s eyes. His mouth opened wider, teeth tumbling from his gums, then his cheeks split apart. The Magic 8-ball thing shoved itself forward, knocking out the last of Kennedy’s teeth, and making the lips bow convexly.

Ali was rooted to her chair, sickened and horrified yet unable to voice her terror, or to flee it. She had realised what that Magic 8-ball actually was. It was an eye, a big black pupiled, grey-white irised eye, bigger than a baseball. The President’s toothless gums had been shoved out of sight, and his previously kissable lips now resembled eyelids.
His neck began to stretch out again, this time lengthening and twisting, while his head started to roll around jerking this way and that, but inexorably turning onto its side. His human eyes, those dreamy eyes she had creamed over for years, were again glowing that demonic red. His pupils and irises no longer visible at all, just the blood red glow.

She could barely drag her eyes from the twisting monstrous alterations to the President’s face, but peripherally she was noting additional changes to his body shape, movement and bulges beneath the twitching robe.
His skin began to darken, an all-over bruise, turning from tanned Caucasian to a reddish-brown hue. Though, over the next second the red-brown deepened to a pinkish-purple. By the time his skin had mottled to that purplish shade, his head had somehow managed to turn fully horizontal - from the neck up, lying on its side, from the neck down, standing upright - however misshapen and distended he appeared beneath the robe.
She realised he was also taller. The misshapen neck had lunged that side-on head up as high as the ceiling. She could almost see further movement on the carpet, in the shadows around where his feet were, movement, slithering. However, she couldn’t bring herself to look down, the revulsion she felt while his face transformed was ensnaring her whole attention.

His original eyes, still glowing red, were now little more than slits while his hair no longer bore the styled TV newscaster look. It now appeared to have lengthened, hanging limp. It had lost all colour, becoming a dull parchment-white. The head was also fully flipped over, inverted and no longer held any resemblance to the human that had once been President Kennedy.
There was a crunching pop as his nose was abruptly sucked back into his head. Leaving a black hollow in its place. Even as Ali saw it happen, the red glow of his human eyes faded, his eyelids split apart becoming one wide ragged slit. It fattened and bulged as though pushed out from within, lashes flitting free like dust. Solid white columns appeared behind the single ripped eyelid, forming rough stalactites and stalagmites. The one-time eyelid stretched wider as two huge tusk-like stalactites burst from the outer edges of that split in his skin. Ali finally realised what she was looking at, a new mouth, the white columns fangs, a wide slack maw overstuffed with rows of teeth, bursting from new gums like weeds while a thick tongue-like appendage filled the rear of the gaping cavity. Beneath that vile new mouth, rolls of flesh that had previously been his brow ridges were now a flabby bulging double chin.
Its shadow caught the ceiling, making her realise how tall it had become. But the shadow was in constant motion, things writhing and whipping around. It drew her eyes southward again just as the thing that had been her beloved President yanked open his half-ruined robe.

Large hornlike spikes curved upward from its shoulders, stretching the silky fabric of the robe to the point of breaking, the sharp looking tips already piercing its tightly woven threads. There was a hint of a tail to the rear, or maybe a cluster of flicking tentacles.
His still human, though mottled purple hands were extending beyond the robe’s sleeves, lengthening and thickening like the rest of him.
He threw the front of his robe open, revealing a new ‘torso’ that was unlike anything Ali had ever seen before. It was ghastly, folds of flesh in putrid garish colours, like some brightly hued tropical flower, the kind that enticed live prey.
The centre from the ribs down to the groin, or what had once been ribs and groin, was now a great sagging orifice, a shadowy hole, practically oval shaped, perhaps perfunctorily vaginal.
The robe finally fell away, shredded from within. Revealing the thing’s body as a pulpy bulb, like some fleshy man-size tuba, surrounded by writhing tentacles.
Maintaining the strange connection to a tropical plant, a large pistil-like appendage emerged from the depth of that hot pink hole, a pale stigma emerged from its tip, a fat hood surrounding a phallic like shaft, itself as thick as Ali’s wrist.
It pushed forward, revealing something like a dozen thick stamen surrounding it, tendrils, that writhed like squid tentacles around the fat pink central pistil. The stamen didn’t have bulbous tips instead she saw glimpses of sucker mouths, maybe even miniature tongues within, maybe even a little blinking eye inside the mouth.

She didn’t utter a scream, she wasn’t ready for what happened next, despite how obvious it should have been to her. By the time she recognised those stamen launching at her like a collection of bullwhips, they had already slammed into her, knocking her right out of her chair and onto the floor between it and the President’s desk.
There was no defence from that stamen, she had deliberately removed her underwear and there was only one button on her dress, right behind its buckled belt. She was momentarily stunned as she toppled down to the thick carpet, almost thumping her head against the hard wood of the desk. She did crack her right elbow on one of the four aluminium feet of the office chair, but it was a glancing blow. And by the time she had regained her awareness, she had stamen tentacles all over her body.

Both arms and legs were ensnared. The tentacles were warm and dry, definitely fleshy and pulsing with a life of their own. While the sheer strength in them was staggering. They coiled around her, from her calves up to the tops of her thighs. The one around her waist coiled tight, pressuring her stomach and intestines. She felt it at the backs of her thighs, and the back of her short skirt was flipped right up, baring her naked bottom.

She tried to reach back but immediately found it impossible to pull against the grip of those stamen. They let her struggle a little but she was unable to gain any more than an inch of movement before they pulled her arms right back to where they wanted her. One whipped around her throat and she expected to be choked by it, however it slid down her sternum, right between her breasts and then encircled her left boob twice, starting to squeeze. Hard. The sudden pressure infusing her breast made the breath catch in her throat, and her engorged nipple ached with forced bloated, stiffness.

By this time, she had been lifted up off the floor, completely under the control of the stamen and suspended in the middle of the room. She was dragged back into the ex-president’s personal space, on her back, legs uplifted and spread wide apart. Her already well fucked and still drooling pussy, was opened and exposed for him… or it.

That new inverted face leaned in close, looking shockingly disgusting and disturbing, like a demonic clown’s face, with that perpetual grin on the fang-toothed maw. The tongue, big as her forearm flicked out like a serpent, and attacked her uncrushed boob. It lashed in fast whipping circles, coating the whole orb in its monstrous drool. But all too soon it switched to assaulting her engorged nipple exclusively, ultra-fast flicking whips, working the stiff bud hard, flicking it every which way with its rapid tongue-tip attack.
Finally, Ali found her voice. She wailed, a breathy high-pitched warbling that held pace with the monster tongue-action on her flesh. But soon enough her pitch warbled up into desperate high scream.
However, it was as much a scream of immoral pleasure as it was the horror of being a sexual target of a no-shit monster. She felt a throbbing hot sexual desire from the feel of being ensnared, squeezed, possessed, sexually tormented.

She was dragged pussy first toward that thick pulsing pistil-thing. The phallic looking stigma emerged from its centre. She knew without a doubt what was going to happen but at the same time, she couldn’t believe it. Up close the pistil was probably about as wide around as the thickest part of her forearm. She was pulled onto it. It felt strangely spongy and yet firm, dry, but there was a slickness, and it made her flesh tingle, a not-quite-itch. It pressed against her swollen vulva, spreading them, apart, the constant tingles brought about a shocking burst of her own lubrication, which allowed her lips to spread wide safely, her tunnel mouth accepting the end of the pistil without it ripping her pussy.

Shivering all over, she felt the John Holmes proportioned stigma sliding into her slick tunnel. The pistil plugging her entrance, teasing the surrounding nerves clusters that gave her such pleasure, while the pale pink fleshy shaft drove in deep. Her tunnel walls gripped and clung to it, despite her overflowing lubrication.
She could feel every movement with complete clarity as the monster started to rape her. It was almost as though she could read its intent, picture what it was doing from a third party’s perspective.
The Pistil began to twist and throb and vibrate against the entrance of her blatantly splayed pussy, teasing and manipulating her nerves constantly, hiking up her orgasmic ascension by leaps and bounds. While the large and bloated shaft pistoned back and forth against her slick yet grasping walls; adding more and more intensity to those lustrous waves of eroticism already threatening to overwhelm her. All while the smooth blunt head of the stigma slammed against her quivering, oversensitive cervix with each and every full length thrust.

She peaked, a detonation of sexual pleasure that enveloped her. She blacked out, and there was nothing but a distant thrumming pulse, a vestige of what her body experienced, while her mind was wrapped in a soft thick blanket of divine sensual joy.

Eventually she slipped back into her body, the delightful joy and calmness that had taken her, replaced with heavy, gut wrenching, organ churning, sickening reality. However, it came in hints, belated sensations that were slow to coalesce. The positions of her restricted and spread wide limbs, the weight of her hair against her scalp, the rawness of her open mouth and sore throat, followed by the realisation that she had been shrieking continually since this had begun. The tightness gripping her in multiple places, serpentine and restricting. The pull of gravity on her body.
All those sensations sketched in, tell-tale, hint by hint, her current situation. Her position and what was still being done to her.

Her surroundings were no longer wholly familiar. The room looked the same, though there was a mistiness to it, as though some kind of fog had descended on the room or over her vision. It had a grey or green tinge to it. Other than that, within the confines of the shadows - in the corners, up in the ceiling, beneath the desk - there was something there, in those shadows, also tinted that same dull grey or green hue. They might have been structures or growths, bulges with tendrils of a secondary material, like veins and muscles. The inhuman substance almost reminded her of molten wax, or something volcanic, molten lava that had solidified. She didn’t understand any of what she was seeing. And then, all of a sudden it didn’t matter anyway, because the sexual pleasure was beginning to peak again, tearing her attention away from anything other than that. And what was being done to her.

She was still on her back, limbs spread, held up above the ground at waist height to the monster. Still being raped, a mind-bending concoction of pain and pleasure, each fuelling the other so that, loathsomely, it was still having that unwanted effect on her body and her mind; still feeding her advancing sexual ecstasy, still forcing her to want more of it, to enjoy it.
All Ali could do was take it.

She spent a moment getting herself reaccustomed with her own predicament. Her thighs were spread wider still, knees up, toes pointed up at that strange otherworldly ceiling. The stamen tentacles still encircling her whole body were pulling at her, almost as though she was being stretched on a rack, though never quite to the point of painful.
Her arms had been stretched out behind her head, stamen wrapped around her upper arms, forearms and wrists. One of them even had a grip on the hair at the back of her head. She had a fistful of stamen flesh in each hand, squeezing as though her life depended on it, but no matter what she did, if appeared to have no effect of the monster’s extremities.
A stamen wrapped around her neck and forced her jaw back, pressing the back of her skull toward her shoulders. The tentacle gripping the back of her hair pulled, helping out, keeping its sharp grip taut, and turning her view completely upside down.

She realised that her left boob was no longer suffering its own sadistic constricting attention, the stamen that had wrapped itself around the orb had let go while she had been lost in her orgasm. But they weren’t bouncing freely either, and she could feel fat fingers and broad palms covering both her boobs, pressing into the soft flesh, squeezing firmly, and presenting her with a whole new form of sweetly-cruel breast constriction.
Inside her ravaged, throbbing pussy, the stigma cock was pumping away dramatically, deep and powerful, shunting punch-thrusts that were doing indescribable things inside her. Overwhelming things.
All she could do was be that instrument of pleasure for the thing that was using her. Her constant high keening moans neither deliberate or even conscious, nothing more than a mindless expression of terrorised, unwanted joyous sensation.
All Ali could do was take it.

The stamen around her throat released her, uncoiling, letting her suck in more of that green foggy air. It went to her straight to her head, like an ice water bath. But then the uncoiled appendage slid back into her view, pointing at her like a cobra ready to strike. The pucker-mouth tip had rolled back like an uncut cock and the thing within that she thought might have been an eye now resembled a pinkish ball, smooth and flesh-like, with a hole in the middle big enough to get the tip of her pinkie into. Another demonic approximation of a human cock.
Of course it aimed at her open mouth. She frantically turned her head this way and that, to try and fend it off but, as though reading her thoughts, the orb shaped tip followed her movements with frightening precision. Choosing some arbitrary moment it suddenly launched itself at her mouth, plugging the ‘O’ of her lips, forcing her tongue flat and then sliding in deep, probing beyond her uvula, making her gag. And then it advanced onward, penetrating her throat and slithering deeper and deeper along the tight tube of her gullet. It started to frolic around inside her body, wriggling, thrusting back and forth, bulging outward to forcing her throat muscles to grasp tightly around it.

Cackling, a freakish, inhuman insane tremolo, it expressed its monstrous delight as it thrust, and squeezed and fucked her throat. And it made her cum again. And made her lose herself.

The final time she came around, drawn slowly back into her body as though waking from the most delicious erotic dream she found out that, in the interim she had been flipped over. Still held up in midair by a dozen demonic tentacles, but she had been hefted about, repositioned doggie style.
It had always been her favourite position, giving herself to her man, totally under his control, made to take his dominance and his power.
But now she was a trussed-up victim of a rape. And a multiple penetration rape at that. Her mouth was free and clear to wail and moan. But she could barely manage it. Her throat felt swollen shut, clogged and there was a saccharin sweet yet horribly acidic flavour that coated every tastebud she possessed. No doubt, the phallic stamen had dumped its load into her stomach and the residue had coated her throat on egress.
Her legs dangled, still wrapped in tight controlling tentacles, the one around her waist and lower ribs still half throttled her internal organs in its passion. Her arms were stretched out away from her body.
The stamen was once again constricting her left boob, squeezing it so hard it felt like it might pop like a balloon at any second, while the nipple felt like a hot coal with so much blood trapped inside it.
The big, unnaturally meaty hands were gripping her buttocks just as tightly as it had her boobs the last time. Worse of all though was that, even with the rapid pummelling of the stigma still slamming her pussy, she could feel something big and dense was also up her ass. It was strangely ridged like two of the things… Yes, that must be it…
She could picture it in her harried mind clear as day - it had taken two of the stamen and twisted them together into one plaited shaft. And that was currently shoved deep inside her rectum. It was all too much to take…

It let go of her sore, bruised ass with one hand, instead grasping a fistful of her skull - hair and scalp alike, all gripped by those too-fat-to-be-human fingers. It dragged her head backward, arching her spine. But she barely acknowledged this fresh torture. She just took it as she had been doing all these hours. At least, it felt like hours.
And even as Ali took it, her mind practically melting at the horrific realisation, she reached her peak. A pink bubble of utter uncomprehending sexual ecstasy once again enveloped her, whipping her mind away like a tornado, upward into that beautiful place of lovely, sweet oblivion.
A sexual heaven.

<><><>

Kyukei-ma enjoyed the reward of its labour. Though his Lordship was deceased these twelve rotations, Suikakujyu’s plan had worked like a charm. He had tasked Kyukei-ma with positioning himself in the place of the most powerful human on the planet and then using all of his craft to destroy the Chojin.
It had chosen the American one, because he had a hotter female mate. It had been tedious to only be allowed to make use if the female, and others he could get his phallus into, while remaining in his human disguise. But still, it had been a lot of fun too. As had using his Presidential powers to bring in more and more females. The positioning female bodyguards had been a stroke of genius. As had been picking this sweet young morsel as a replacement for his personal servant, after he had absorbed her. Her own actions, had made room for this young intern to step in. And now it was her turn to be taken and used. Eventually absorbed.
And of course, once now that the Chojin had been destroyed, they would be able to return to the new earth, an earth they would control. A new demon-realm, with two billion females to take and use for their pleasure. And perhaps even to breed. If that proved possible. It would be a lot of fun finding out.

Right at this moment the US President’s orders would be under commencement. The naval fleet’s ICBM’s had already detonated, right on target - as he had observed through the President’s eyes from this very space station. And right now, they would be sending in planes to confirm the destruction of the foetal Chojin inside the teenage human whore where he grew, all within the perceived safety of Osaka Castle. And once that success had been confirmed, President Kennedy would issue the final order - A nuclear strike upon Japan itself. To vaporise the last remaining Beast-kind and the hated Amano siblings. And any others who might stand in the way of Demon-kind’s new world order.

For now, Kyukei-ma would remain on the space station. He had three females under his control already, the two agent morsels currently keeping those essential pilots entertained, and this little morsel currently its object of pleasure. Plus, there were two others at his disposal, including his own beloved wife, the famously stunning First Lady, Heather Bach-Kennedy.
That particular vixen and honey pot, it had enjoyed plenty of times over the last two weeks, while safely disguised as her human husband. She had been thoroughly bent to its will, used for hours on end after dark, exhausted over and over again.
But its attentions had also made her frightened and then suspicious. And so Kyukei-ma had not been able to make use of her the way it had really desired.
However, that would now change. It would no longer have to hide behind a human disguise. And it would be able to unleash its full unadulterated lust on that lovely young body. And when it had exhausted her, while she recovered, there would still be Christina Kirschner too. This was going to be so much fu… …Wait a second, what was that?

The demon whipped its head around to squint through the big satellite’s Presidential window. The drapes parted enough to reveal a sliver of the precious though thickly clouded orb of the Earth. But there was something more there. Something glowing. Something approaching… fast… too fast… too big… Oh hell no!

<><><>

The Destroyer God ‘Nagumo’, having taken his final form, resembled a perverse version of an Lovecraftian ‘Old God’. Gigantic humanoid body, gigantic bat-like wings, but instead of tentacles around its mouth, it bore tucks and fangs and horns. Instead of tentacles it sported perhaps half a dozen, giant prehensile penises, one of many weapons in its arsenal. Afterall, before the Chojin could complete the process of creating a new world of harmony, the old worlds, the three realms, had to be brought down, utterly crumbled to dust. However, the Chojin, the God of Gods himself - slumbering in Osaka Castle - had been targeted, and it was the father’s job to protect his son.
And so, the Destroyer God took to the wing, breaking through the atmospheric barrier at many times the speed of sound, and careened straight into - actually through - the orbiting satellite that housed the US President’s emergency bunker.

The satellite exploded. Everything organic and inorganic, within its structure was vaporised in a microsecond, the structure itself crumbled like a sand sculpture, and was immediately dragged back into the Earth’s atmosphere where it began to burn.

By the time the last of PEOC had burned to ashes in the atmosphere, the Destroyer God had returned to Earth and devastated the last of America’s naval fleet, then set about locating its nuclear arsenal to destroy that too. Of course, nothing the humans possessed, none of its heralded technology was a threat to the Chojin, or to the Destroyer God. But it was fun. And all those thousands of nuclear missiles abruptly detonating across the continental United States made its long-term job that little bit easier.

Perhaps it should repeat the process in Russia, China, India, Australia and Europe.

The End.
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Urotsukidoji - Presidential Duties.