Herthrimdaz emerged in a new and strange realm. Lush greenery and rolling low hills greeted her, the waft of pollen and fresh dew gracing her. 

She sneered. Too fresh and too clean for her. Wastelands and the smells of death and misery on the wind were far more appealing than this. 

There was the smell of iron, the soothing scent of freshly split blood. Those she knew well. 

There was a tightness around her hips. She looked down. 

A crimson portal formed in the earth like a bleeding gash. Her ass was too big, her hips far too wide to fit through. Small shadowy figures examined her cheeks. Herthrimdaz wiggled, grunted and her prodigious hips. Curse her thickness for letting her be wedged. After straining, she popped through the portal. The little figures scattered as her plump cheeks smashed onto the earth. Everything down from her knees was still submerged in the portal. 

Herthrimdaz sighed in relief. The pressure on her hips faded. 

“Great one?” came a raspy high-pitched voice.

The imp glared downwards. 

A hooded figure stepped forward from a crowd of their likewise garbed kin. Black robes lined with deep red, a shadow obscuring their faces. They were small. Insiginifant would have been a compliment to their stature. Herthrimdaz couldn’t hold her grin. A tingle of excitement raced through her like lightning. Herthrimdaz reached forward to grab the figure. Playthings for the taking. A blood rune flared sparking red energies which burnt the tip of her finger. “Ach!”

“My apologies great one!” The figure bowed, “We haven’t completed the summoning yet!” 

“Well hurry up then!” She demanded whilst nursing the sting. The crowd cowed, stepping back. Her voice was deeper now, powerful, commanding. That tingle was starting to overwhelm her. 

The leader bowed and turned to a subordinate. “How many more?”

The crowd exchanged glances. Murmurs and chatting abounded. One of them spoke up, “I think we’re out.”

“Out of virgins!?” The leader cried, throwing their hood back revealing his pale skin and tattooed face. He looked like a corpse given life. Sunken eyes dark eyes, hollow features. He was so gaunt you would have thought he had never seen a meal in his life.

His subordinate shrugged. “You try finding the chaste in this land.”

“What about the nuns or the monks? The priests? Did you check the countryside for any maidens or bachelours?”

“We tried them all. Those monks you wanted were all into buggery, and the lads didn’t know if that broke the rules or not so we left them. The nunneries were worse. Whorehouses didn’t see as much as trade as those nuns, and  we are talking about them-”

Herthrimdaz rested her head on her hand. The argument went on. How she so desperately wanted to squish them just to stop their incessant high-pitched back and forth. But the barrier prevented her from silencing their prattle. She was the one who meant to inflict torture, not to suffer it. Her mind drifted in order to spare her. These humans were the perfect height for many things. She wondered how long that leader would last as her personal dildo or pressed up against her nipple. Herthrimdaz crossed her legs, her imagination running wild. Better to zone out than listen a second longer.

“Nevermind!” The leader roared, pinching his forehead. Herthrimdaz snapped to attention. It looked like the debate had finally concluded. “Right, pour out the remaining blood and we’ll make do. Get into position again! We’ll take it from the top!”

The gathered cultists shuffled around the portal. Others brought out drugged prisoners from the back of a nearby wagon. Deep chanting filled the air. Herthrimdaz now realised there were drawings carved into the mud. Pentagramic icons with the markings of hell. There were animal entrails tied around upturned crucifixes. Goats' heads were stitched onto the beheaded and then tied to stakes. The ground was flooded with blood. It stained the cultist's robes, their bare feet splashing the red puddles. 

The imp bobbed her head. She was thoroughly impressed by the sickening display of cruelty these humans inflicted on their own kind. They really were going all out. 

One brought a heavy tome to the leader. A Necronomicon, its pallid cover a mass of writhing faces stuck in a perpetual howl, its pages made of flayed skin. He flicked through its contents. He scowled for a moment and looked to Herthrimdaz. “Wait a minute. You’re…” He inspected the page carefully, squinting hard and leaning in before shooting an accusatory glance back at the imp, “You’re not a succubus?” 

Herthrimdaz scoffed, her cheeks quickly turning red. “Course I am!”

The leader did not look convinced. He flipped between two pages. He looked at the page, looked at the imp, flicked back to the other page, looked again. He was whispering to himself. “Squat form, full-bodied physique, turquoise-skinned with black markings…” His voice trailed off. 

Herthrimdaz grinned. It was true, though full-bodied was a rather poor description, especially for her. Her ass and breasts would make a full-bodied woman look like a stick in comparison. She could already sense the arousal of the cultists. Those behind her were enamoured judging by the aura they were giving off. She wiggled her hips, her ass jiggled, the aura went crazy for a moment. Herthrimdaz tittered. If only the barrier didn’t exist. She could give them a face full of what they so desired.

The comments from the leader continued whilst he analysed the pages. What he said about her skin was true enough. If only she could scratch out that deplorable word. Squat. If the damned were forced to endure endless torture, she was there alongside them in suffering being squat. It reminded her of all the times the succubus’ would call her shortstack physique vile or that her short nature was freakish. Always making those insults right before crushing her. Jealous whores.

The leader’s boney features sunk. He slapped his face with such vigour it left a throbbing red mark on his cheek. He dragged his taut skin down to alleviate his frustrations before he bellowed a loud and infuriated, “An imp!? We poured out an ocean of blood for an imp!?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Herthrimdaz retorted.

“Fuck it! Just… agh! I can’t be bothered to do it all again!” He pointed a finger at her, “What is your name imp, we tried summoning a Jeridell, but I guess I can’t read demonic scripture to save my damned soul! Give me your true name and I can try and salvage this fucking mess!”

The name of her tormentor stung. To think it could be that putrid cunt of a demoness up here suffering these morons. She thought about giving a false name for a moment. A true name was a powerful thing. She didn’t know if to trust these bumblers. Still, it was better to be here than down below dealing with that infernal cunt of a demoness. “Herthrimdaz.”

“Right! We can get back to summoning.” The leader coughed to clear his throat. The chanting grew in strength. Prisoner's throats were slashed; blood runes glowed hot. The sacrifices gurgled and thrashed against their bindings, a stream of warm blood pooling down their naked chests. The cultist pushed the bodies. They passed through the barrier and were swallowed by the portal. 

“We, The Coven of Sanguine Subliminity, call to you Herthrimdaz! Heed the call of the faithful! Heed our sacrifices! May their screams draw you from the depths, may their anguish lure you to our world, and may our prayers herald your coming and the dawn of the apocalypse!” 

Herthrimdaz felt a surge of strength. She could sense it all, comprehend the madness around her, how the corpse mounds all around oozed lingering emotion from the freshly slain and sacrificed. Anguish, pain, fear. Pure and decadent. Wisps emerged from the dead and flew into the imp. Their souls. The essence of the humans coalesced into glimmering dots. They were drawn to her body, landing on her skin and fading away. She had never tasted something like this. Each soul tingled. Each one she could savour the despair and horror. It was a flood of emotion, a storm she could feed upon. 

And she drank deep of it. Her arousal was maddening. So many humans, so many fears and terrors. Every soul trapped within her crying her name in despair and hatred. Her body was coated in warmth that made even the fires of hell seem cold. 

Then the prayer stopped.

“A- oh, I can’t be bothered. How did we fuck this up? Is she even powerful enough?”

The souls danced within her, then they converged downwards, collecting around her womanhood. A red marking above her pussy glowed. A womb tattoo that pulsed. She felt out her labia. The imp moaned, ramming her fingers into her soaking pussy, threw her head back. The fire turned into an inferno. 

Herthrimdaz’s form expanded outwards, her ass pressing against the barrier. The imp's thick hips struck the sides with such force that the magics wavered. The cultists stepped back as the imp’s physique threatened to engulf them. They saw the blood runes light up and strain, desparetly attempting to withstand the pressure placed onto it by the imp's sheer thickness. The dark magics employed buckled further. Herthrimdaz, once seated, was now forced to stand. There was simply no room left to accommodate her. Her shoulders hit against the invisible walls, her head bumping against a ceiling of thin air. Sparks crackled from the runes, trying as they could to hold back the growing imp. Yet still she grew, ballooning up in height, towering even further over the cultists. The faltering energies gave out a desperate whine building up into a crescendo. 

The barrier erupted, a corona of red energy blasting out that sent the gathering flying backwards. 

Herthrimdaz rose, finally able to stand. She held her head, dazed and lost. Disorientated, the imp fell onto her backside. Her ass, more engorged and larger than ever, landed onto a portion of the gathering. Twenty men cried out, their screams cut short when the colossal cheeks collided with them. The weight and force of the giant imp pulverised them in an instant. Trapped between her ass and the earth, the cultists were smothered for a moment, enveloped the next, then obliterated after. The men were instantly reduced into a pile of shattered and torn viscera which stained the immensity that was Herthrimdaz’s cheeks. Yet when she landed, her ass spread out as her fat shifted. With her cheeks sprawling out further, more cultists were caught in the onslaught. Those unable to escape were swiftly overwhelmed and they too shared the fate of their brethren. Another ten were taken and found their end as a bloody broken mess beneath the imp's immensity. 

The ground shook and ruptured from the weight. Ruptures and cracks split the earth, her ass jiggled and then at last, the chaos settled.

The imp awoke from her stupor. The rush stopped. How she longed for it now. The souls she felt in her were a drop, and yet the power they bestowed made her feel invincible.

She felt something poking at her butt. Herthrimdaz looked over her shoulder. She grabbed a handful of her ass, revealing to the survivors what remained of those unfortunate enough to be beneath her. "Oops~" Herthrimdaz tittered.

Herthrimdaz picked herself up. Behind her were two craters carved into the earth in the shape of her plump cheeks. Blots of gore decorated the light brown mud. Herthrimdaz wiped the crushed remnants from her buxom body. Her ass felt fatter now, more rounded, perkier. Her hips and thighs were thicker as well. Herthrimdaz licked her lips. She imagined the face of that succubus. How that demoness would quail at the sight of the bustiest and thickest imp that had ever graved the hells.

Now at her new and terrifying height, she found that the humans around were even more minuscule, their leader barely taller than her big toe. The energies swirled and reformed, containing the imp. The cultists were starting to recover from the uproar. There were groans and murmurs. Then they beheld her. They saw how tall the imp had become, how pathetic and small they were to the demoness they summoned the pits of hell. To this being, they were nothing. They fell onto their knees, their cursed prayers a spine-shivering symphony to Herthrimdaz.

The imp giggled. This was the power she craved. This was how all the demons saw the world. At last, she could know how it feels to look down on vermin, to know how a simple footfall spells doom for all those unfortunate enough to be caught in its shadow. 

She squatted down, leaning forward at the frail and cowering human that led this miserable cult. “Do you doubt me still human?” Her thunderous words rang out. The prayers halted. Mere utterance now forced the cultists to cover their ears and tremble before her. Herthrimdaz tittered. These humans were such weak, contemptible things. Moreso now. After a paltry offering, they were so far beneath her. The thought that this was just the start and that the more sacrifices awaited was peaking her arousal to levels she never fathomed before. 

The leader stood up, trembling. His stunned face turned into one of pure joy, a twisted grin leering his yellow rotting teeth full and bright. “Okay! This can work!” His shocked laughter washed away his anxiety, “We were trying to make a pact with that succubus who’s her face but you Herthrimdaz! We are blessed to have you! All hail Herthrimdaz the imp! We have marked and bound the Kingdom of Olisilatih to you!”

“Marked them?” She tilted her head in confusion. “What’s all this about a pact?”

Once the gathering recovered from the strength of her voice, the leader elucidated, “We of the Coven seek to wipe the slate clean. Those of purity have been removed, and those who remain are those deemed too wicked and vile to be left alive. With every moment, they despoil the sacred earth and so we, agents of the righteous gods, have called on the torturers beneath to bring punishment! Those in the Kingdom have drunk tainted waters, now marking their souls for oblivion. Whomever you claim will be dragged back to the abyss, yours for all eternity!”

Herthrimdaz blinked. A kingdom of humans all for her. How many souls could be that? How many thousands would she have, how many hundreds of thousands were now her rightful property? She wanted to scream with laughter. To think Jeridell could have had this bounty, this feast! Now it was hers. Hers! Herthrimdaz, the once lowly imp, now allowed to grow fat on the misery she met out! She never knew what would happen if an imp was given any inkling of power, but with a tiny helping of souls, she glimpsed what awaited. 

She had entered the mortal realms a giant. Small enough to still see a human. When the pact was fulfilled, she would be tall enough to make the world tremble beneath her. Mountains would be crushed under her foot, lands engulfed by her ass. Continents rupturing and dying beneath her gait. All those hundreds of thousands, the humans crying her name in fear and terror! These cultists would get the apocalypse they wanted. For once all these souls were hers, they would have the gargantuan eradicator they sought. 

“Brilliant!” Herthrimdaz boomed.

The leader rose his hands, roaring with maniacal laughter. “Great One Herthrimdaz, we pitiful worms offer you it all. By way of guidance, there is a city close by the name of Varudin. As this pact is made, so will it be your first target. Cast down the false idols, eradicate the cathedrals besotted with mortal trappings rather than the veneration of the Gods! Let the death of Varudin herald the end of days for the Kingdom!”

“Yeah yeah,” Herthrimdaz waved her hand dismissively at the pomposity of his speech. “Let's get on with it!” 

The leader bowed his head in deepest reverence. “By your will, Herthrimdaz. We must fulfil our oaths. Once this is done, you will be anchored in this realm. If you stray from the pact, you will be banished back to the hells.”

“So keep focused on the job?”

“More or less. Attacking another kingdom will terminate the pact as well. You’ll also encounter some…” He winced, “Angelic issues if you try it.”

“A-Angels?” Herthrimdaz stammered. The last thing she wanted to do was provoke an angel’s ire. Even the weakest was on par with the mightiest demonesses. Devouring the souls of an entire kingdom would still not be enough to last but a few seconds against one of heaven's champions.

“Fret not great one. This land is marked for desolation, for the peoples here are beyond redemption. The angels will not intervene.” 

Relief washed over Herthrimdaz. Yet it did stir questions. For a leader of a coven committing such heinous acts, he knew far too much about what the pure and noble angels were doing. “And how do you know this?”

A thin smile. “Who do you think sent us?”

Herthrimdaz's jaw dropped. “You mean…”

“Oh yes.” He took a full-blown grin, happy to be revealing the full details to the imp, “Evil begets evil. All here, all our coven, we are but humble servants of the angels. Who do you think gave us the Necronomicon, who do you think supplied our coven with the knowledge to summon demons, who do you think escorted the faithful and pure out of the kingdom before your arrival?” 

“Huh…” Those angels were right devils. To think they were orchestrating this slaughter. But for what reason?

“My contrition great one, I have been sidetracked.” He bowed again. “We must perform the final sacrifice. Our lives shall break the shackles that prevent you from partaking in righteous slaughter.” 

“You? You would die for this?” 

The leader clicked his fingers. The cult reformed around the circumference. Chants and unholy prayers. He flicked the Necronomicon open. But before reading the final rites, the leader stared at Herthrimdaz. The imp felt pierced by his look. It was hard, stoic even. Not the look of a crazed zealot, but a pragmatist. “All here are the damned. The angels ask of us, and we obey. If we do not, the rot of this kingdom shall spread. Their deaths will serve, as will ours. Our souls shall not survive the perils of breaking the runes which prevent you from wandering the mortal realm. Breaking such bonds requires willing sacrifices. The angels have tasked us and we submit ourselves. Those of the coven will never know the hells nor the heavens. Our afterlife shall be a void. No fires, no light. The still darkness awaits us.”

Unnerving. To accept death so willingly. Odd little humans. Still, Herthrimdaz was happy to oblige. She did mourn their loss inside. She wanted their souls most of all to torture. A shame they would cease to exist, but they were a drop compared to the ocean that awaited her. If their purpose was to die, then they were taking their time in reaching their end. “Well… get on with it then.”

The leader nodded. In black eldritch tounges, he recited from the Necronomicon. Otherworldly wails abounded. The blood runes spasmed around her. Then, one of the cultists popped. They showered their fellows with their entrails and gore. None of them were moved. Their prayers continued. Herthrimdaz could see the barrier. It was like glass shattering. A red crack. Then another. A cultist exploded and another crack. Now she could make out the invisible barrier formed by the cracks and searing runes. One by one, they popped until only the leader remained.

The walls of her cage strained. The leader rose his hands; the Necronomicon caught fire. The leader bellowed, his voice trembling in awed rapture at the final line, “We beckon oblivion; the blood dawn breaks!”  

The leader's fleshed bubbled. He swelled, laughing in insane delight and then finally shared the fate of his cult. A great whining sound reached its crescendo. Crack after crack formed.

The barrier shattered. An aureole of energy raced out. An explosive boom echoed over the rolling hills, announcing the completion of the ritual. 

Herthrimdaz licked her lips. She took one step forward. No burning. No runes. Her foot squelched in the blood-soaked earth. Her first step on the mortal plane. 

A wisp danced around her face. “A straggler?” Herthrimdaz giggled, ready to consume it. She reached out and it zipped away across the hills. When Herthrimdaz did not follow, it returned. She rolled her eyes. It was a guide. No doubt it was directing her towards the city the leader was rambling on about. “Well then. A pact is a pact.”

The wisp darted off and Herthrimdaz followed.