Zycra's Inferno

 

A rumble shook the entire palace as the enormous gavel struck down on a metallic plinth.

“NEXT!” resounded a terribly strong and powerful voice.

The eternally long waiting line, awaiting to be judged, slowly advanced by one step. All of the damned souls were waiting to pass through the Doors of Misfortune, where their fate would be decided by the Supreme Judge of Hell: Menocles.

Under a hellish dark sky and a horizon filled with gray, lifeless clouds, Gaziv Nopakchupak-vril-Nayolik nervously clutched a fold of his stringy beige tunic as he wondered how he could have landed in such a terrible place. The most terrible place of all the Creation, he recalled. On his shoulders laid an onerous burden which had plagued his life. Never a moment, in all his life, did he stop regretting having done that mistake. And now that he was in Hell, he was forevermore chagrined by his misfortune.

“There must have been an error,” he murmured out loud.

The person in front of him, a villainous obese man, tired of his sempiternal complaints, turned at him.

“You've been repeating the same thing over and over again since you arrived here! Three more people and you're next on the hotspot, fella. Is this really what you're gonna say to defend yourself?”

“I didn't ask for your advice,” calmly replied Gaziv with empty eyes.

“Jeez, you're done for, man. I've had a lot of time to prepare my plea and I will get away with it easily!”

“If that's what you think...”

“It's not what I think, it's what I-”

“AAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

“NEXT!”

The line mechanically made another small step forward.

“The poor gal. Well he ain't gonna take a piece of me that's for sure, or my name isn't Ytoff Meyachev. Hear me pal? My plan is perfect, all I need to do is get his attention.”

“And what if you don't?”

“What do you mean 'What if I don't?' It's completely out of the question. I will get to him, and he will send me to heaven. I deserve it; it's my right.”

“What have you done to land here?” Gaziv asked to politely continue the conversation, not really caring for an answer.

“Eheh, I was the most reputed gambler in all my homeworld,” he said with obvious pride.

“You're here for gambling money? That's not too bad.”

“I didn't gamble money, idiot. I gambled slaves, any kind of slaves, working slaves, house slaves, deluxe slaves, sex slaves. Slavery is a big deal on my planet, everyone does it. Well, if you're not a slave that is!” he laughed out loud.

“What world would that be?”

“Balfrezagg. You certainly have heard of it. A charming red-sunned planet.”

“Doesn't ring a bell.”

“Come on, you must have. We are reputed for our mines full of precious stones, mines stretching as far as the eye can see.”

“Nope.”

“Anyway, there I was famous. People would come to me to get advice on their slaves. You know, hidden signs that only an experienced eye could see. You know what I mean?”

“Definitively” Gaziv rolled his eyes.

“I tell you, what's the difference between an obedient slave and a runaway slave?”

“Tell me” Gaziv said after a moment of silence.

“No, no, you gotta guess!”

Gaziv gave a desperate look filled with impatience – Ytoff, finally relenting, answered:

“Okay, okay: the eyes! A runaway slave will always have that strange, odd-looking gaze. You know, one filled with hopes and dreams? The work of a slaver is to break these eyes, so they can become just as lifeless as... well, as you!”

“Balfrezagg seems like a wonderful world. Remind me to never set foot there, ever.”

A woman's scream pierced the air, followed by another loud rumble, comparable to a thunder strike.

“NEXT!”

Gaziv saw the man in front of Ytoff slowly advance towards the judge, trembling from head to toe.

“I hope he warms him up for me. I can't believe I'm next. I'm finally getting out of this never-ending line of tightly packed jerks and morons. No offense to you.”

“I'm sure he'll see you're as innocent as a newborn puppy,” Gaziv said, sarcastically.

“Aren't I? Plus I've practiced my sad face and my happy face. You know, to stir up emotions?”

“Yeah, judges have a reputation of making emotionally passionate decisions, especially this one, I'm sure,” said Gaziv, pointing at the tremendously tall, indestructible Doors of Misfortune, made in a strange alloy of dark bronze and sinister steel. Faintly, they could hear the words that were exchanged inside.

Menocles, officially referred to as Menocles the Great Judge, or the Supreme Judge of Hell, looked more like an ancient deity from a forsaken pantheon than an actual judge. Always wearing a red and blue gown and a golden amulet around his collar, Menocles was easily distinguishable by the two dark holes he had where his eyes should have been. He was also one of the oldest being of all the multiverse. And yet, he had the strength to smash his gavel strong enough to make the whole place tremble. Lost in his thoughts, Gaziv quickly came back to reality when he heard the man crying over his fate.

“No! No, you can't! You can't! I've done nothing wrong! Nothing wrong, you hear me!? NOTHING!”

“May you suffer in peace,” concluded Menocles.

“NO WAIT! I SAID WAIT! I-I-I-WILL DO ANYTHING! DON'T SEND ME THERE, DON'T! DON'T!!!”

Menocles banged his hammer on his desk, followed by another earthquake. The Doors of Misfortune slightly opened in a loud creak, and Gaziv got a good view of the Great Judge. He was a very old-looking, very long bearded man. His hands and wrinkled face withered abominably with countless pustules. Sitting behind a monumental desk, he held a gavel in his right hand and a feather in his left, ready to write in the biggest book he's ever seen. A small cloud of smoke floated in the middle of the auditorium, where the previous soul has been sent to his damnation. Ytoff looked at Gaziv, suddenly unsure, but then they heard:

“NEXT!”

Instinctively, Ytoff advanced towards the massive desk, gulping down his saliva, ready to face his destiny. The heavy doors closed behind him. Still, Gaziv could clearly hear the entire discussion.

“Hello sir-judge. I am Ytoff Meyach-”

“Ytoff Meyachev the 402nd, you've been summoned before me for gambling, slave trafficking, murder and adultery. What do you plead?”

“I-eh what? I-what? M-murder? I've never, in all my life...”

“What do you plead,” insisted the cavernous voice of the judge.

“Eh well err- I... Well... Not guilty?”

“Not guilty. An expert will examine your case, then.”

“Oh... great. May I speak with him then?”

“You are speaking to him.”

“You? But you can't be the expert, you're the judge! That-that's a conflict of interests! Where's my lawyer!? I want my lawyer! A court official!"

“You don't need a court official.”

“Yes I do! Yes I do!”

“The balance will now scale your soul, if you'd be patient.”

“Patient? What do you mean, patient? This is a court of justice and I demand to be represented fairly and squarely.”

“You are. What better representative than your very soul, filled with all the good and bad consequences of every actions you took. I'm more of a functionary than a judge, if you want my opinion. I file the sentences and finalize them.”

“File? How can you file them when you have no eyes! You can't even see me!

“The balance finished weighing your soul. I will now render the sentence. Any last words?”

“Wha-last words? I didn't even have the chance to defend myself! What is this masquerade!?”

“Ytoff Meyachev the 402nd, you are hereby sentenced to an eternity in Hell. May you suffer in peace.”

Menocles raised his gavel and, understanding his precarious situation, Ytoff tried to run. In vain, as Gaziv heard a loud “BANG” followed by another earthquake. The Doors of Misfortune opened:

“NEXT!”

Gaziv was close to fainting from his nervousness. Nevertheless, his legs found the strength to make him advance before the enormous desk of the judge. He heard the doors shut behind him. In the vast circular auditorium, a ponderous silence almost made the ambiance unsupportable.

“Gaziv Nopakchupak-vril-Nayolik,” began the blind judge, listing his one crime in an empty voice before adding: “What do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

“Guilty? This is rather surprising.”

“What will happen to me in Hell?”

“An eternity of suffering, maybe less, probably more.”

“And what after? asked Gaziv.”

“I do not have the authority to answer this question.”

“You do not have the authority to answer this question, yet you can sentence people to an eternity in Hell?”

“It is the authority I've been given, yes. Or I wouldn't be sitting behind this table.”

“And who gave you this authority?”

“I do not have the authority to answer this question. I will now render my sentence. Any last words?”

Gaziv mummed the same words he has mummed since his arrival in this realm, remembering the details of his horrible crime:

“There must have been an error...”

“Gaziv Nopakchupak-vril-Nayolik, you are hereby sentenced to an eternity in Hell. May you suffer in peace.”

And in the blink of an instant, Gaziv disappeared from Menocles' Palace.

 

***

 

Hell was recognized as the most dangerous realm of all the multiverse. By far. Demons of all sorts, lustful succubi, dreaded elementals, fallen angels, obedient minions, everything in this dimension were suitable for providing an eternity-long calvary. Originally comprising of the Nine Circles of Hell, the realm expanded over the past millennia. Satanic warlords were granted ever-growing palaces on the only condition that they fulfill their “demonic duties”, many of which interpret them differently. In other words, demons were free to roam around Hell as long as they respected the moral obligations underlying such a place of torment and eternal suffering.

All of Hell is interconnected through a vast network of portals, like many worlds. They are easy enough to cast that any demon knows how to summon one instinctively, if one knows where to go. Sizes and colors of portals always varied from one demonic entity to another, a science not yet theorized but ordinarily explained as being due to the caster's personality. Still, they all served the same purpose: fast, easy travel through the immensity of Hell.

Hell was also known as being home to the largest black market ever imagined in all the dimensions. Not only did souls gather to Hell, but also some precious artifacts filled with magical powers naturally eventually found their way in the hellish pits. All of which, sooner or later, ended up in the hands of the powerful warlords tyrannically reigning over their heavily guarded palaces. However, Hell was created as an infinite labyrinth, and only a few knew their way around. Unfortunately, getting your hands on a coveted object was practically impossible as demons are renowned gamblers and many artifacts changed hands quickly.

Castles, dungeons, palaces, all these places could make a good, lasting shelter for wandering souls; as one would think it was easier to hide inside a palace than outside in open-land. There lies one of the terrible illusions of Hell, as these were the most terrible and most dangerous places of the Land of Eternal Fire. Hungry succubi particularly loved it when a prey would present itself at their doorstep, followed by a ton of fun toying with them before gobbling them up in their cavernous mouth, completely consuming their soul through painful digestion. Being swallowed alive was probably the most common way to die in Hell, although what would eat you was subject to variation. Many gigantic monsters also roamed in the devastated wastes, some of them ending up tamed and used for sporting events (the most prestigious of these events being the Wild Hunt, where every demonic entity would gorge itself up of many souls as it could support. The succubus Menyssan has been the undisputed champions for centuries, her stomach making short stuff of the hundreds of thousands of souls she has devoured). But one thing monsters and demons had in common was a mutual enjoyment of bite-sized squirming humanoids sliding down their throats. A feeling many other dimensions also shared.

The Gloomy Plague was home to a well known demon named Gryjiel the Nefarious. Since he was amongst the first demons to have gained the rights over a domain, a few eternities ago, his house was also home to one of the most notorious black markets in all of Hell. Some demons even claim to have visited the red market, Gryjiel's own and very secretive collection, hidden deep in his castle. The demon was also a monster collector, keeping hundreds of them in his personal dungeon.

It is not far from the main entrance of the Gloomy Plague that a pale orange portal appeared in mid-air. A bare foot, followed by a bare leg and then a giant, naked, brownish body emerged from it. Zycra Zordford was the daughter of the infamously strong and powerful Dragon Arch-Demon Zoreng Zordford, from the Branoos realm, and his evenly terrifying wife Laleiss, a silver succubus known for her persuasive skills in rhetorical arts and charming trickery. Zycra, much like her father, had a golden-brown skin and was a fire succubi. Thus, she was a particularly skilled fire spell-caster and possessed immunity to heat. Always in a happy mood and cheerful humor, her optimism was rarely disturbed. Her cheerfulness was equaled by her perkiness and pestiferous arrogance. She also owned another particular trait of fire succubus: her very, very long and stretchable tongue. Zycra was remarkably skilled in manipulating her tongue in all sorts of serpentine motions, easily twisting it in impossible ways. Almost acting as a third arm, she found it easier to catch her prey, any of them, by wrapping her tongue around her snacks before bringing them straight back into her mouth. Large, dark, demonic wings decorated her back, just as black as the long ponytail flowing down to her buttocks. Two pairs or small gray horns peeked from atop her head, as sharp and pointy as her pearly white fangs. Her ears were much like that of the Dark Elves, long and leading to a sharp point, with few round edges. A tribal tattoo, representing her family's crest, decorated her left arm. Her appearance was completed by a pair of hypnotic amber eyes and a tall, slim body well in shape and health.

On her shoulder, keeping his balance by grabbing a lock of her dark hair, was a human. Named Konta, he was one of the rare humans Zycra preferred to keep than to eat, although their history together demonstrated the exact opposite. Dressed in light-armor, Konta was easily recognizable by his blood-red hair and a scar that lined up vertically over his left eye. He also had a remarkably powerful fire-sword, capable of cutting through practically anything. All around him, an aura of a pale blue light protected him from Hell's harsh atmosphere for a mortal not dead yet, a simple spell cast by the giant succubus. Not particularly skilled in magic, Konta could still manage casting a few spells by himself, like fireballs or simple telekineses. When she was in the mood, his succubus friend would help him refine his techniques. Before meeting Zycra, Konta was a fierce soldier until his arrival in Felarya, where he chose to become a merciless mercenary, mostly working alone, participating in many different operations throughout the jungle-world. Then he met the amber-eyed succubus, under the form of his actual sword. Careless, the succubus got herself trapped inside the magical weapon. After he freed Zycra, his role suddenly changed. They befriended each other, both growing used to the presence of one another. Gradually, a mutual bond of respect emerged between the two, and from that day on, they considered each other as equal beings or, more simply put, as friends. And it is in such a friendly manner that Konta, right beside the giant succubus sharp ear, kept saying:

“It's a bad idea. A very bad idea. Bad, bad idea.”

“Oh stop it,” replied Zycra as she advanced towards the closed gates.

“You've had many bad ideas in your life, but this one is clearly the worst of all. It's a really, really bad idea.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I will find exactly what I'm looking. And maybe you'll never get a piece of it, if you continue.”

“Yeah, if only I knew what it is you're looking for, I could tell you how much worse of an idea it is, and how much we should go back where we came from. I don't say that often, but I feel much safer in Felarya!”

“If you were so scared, you shouldn't have come. All I did was extend you an invitation for a fun lil' trip.”

“You didn't invite me for a trip! You told me you had a surprise for me. You... You tricked me into coming to Hell!”

Konta, from his point of view, could clearly see Zycra grinning with all her teeth bared, her cheekbones stretching happily.

“Maybe I did. So what? Hell is a wonderful place to be! It has a lot of amusement parks” she counted on her fingers, “and lava, and castles, and slaves, and food and... food. It has everything for a demon's basic need!”

“For a demon! I'm human! This place is not suited for mortals!”

“I didn't know you could be so easily scared, Konta-the-Warrior. It's my home! Nothing bad will happen to us.” Then she gently poked his tiny body. “You need to relax!”

“Relax? Relax? I... You... Look, just try not getting us killed.”

“We won't die,” she reassured him, before adding, pensive: “At least I won't. Maybe you will. It's not important. Remember Konta: death in only the beginning. Have I ever told you what would happen after your death comes?”

“You've told me a thousand times, at least. And my answer stays the same: later.”

“Suit yourself,” she smiled.

All around them, the extremely dried land occasionally spat poisonous, sulfuric gazes in the air. The black clouds and glaucous horizon affected Konta's moral, giving him an impression of endless despair. A few meters away, he assisted to a bizarre scene. A deep red toad with black spots and three horns noticed a rat-like creature with chicken legs and long pink tail. Immobile, the half-demon half-amphibian shot out its sticky tongue at the smaller evil being, successfully hitting its prey. It quickly brought the squealing rat into its maw and savored it, the tail of its morsel squirming frantically outside of its mouth. From nowhere, an infernal half-bat half-eagle passed like a shadow over the toad. Sharpened talons grabbed the red and black creature and instantly flew off with its dinner. Not far from there, a three legged small cat with owl eyes accidentally fell off in a crevasse which spat an opaque heated-gas in return, instantly consuming the mutant animal.

“So, where are we heading, exactly?” asked Konta, slightly disturbed by the scenery.

“Gryjiel's domain, The Gloomy Plague. I'm looking for something that is there. I think...”

“You think? Why don't you know, instead? Why don't you ever know! And what the Hell are we looking for!”

“You'll see. And watch your mouth, some demons are pretty... sensible of the ears. Especially Gryjiel. Don't say the H word in vain.”

Konta mumbled a few words and sat on Zycra's shoulder.

“This is a bad idea.”

“We're here!” she cheerfully announced.

In front of them stood the entrance of Gryjiel's domain, a metallic gate twice as big as Zycra. Either side of the entrance, a fence stretched indefinitely to the horizon.

“Why don't you just use your wings and fly over?” quipped Konta.

“It's not as simple” she responded. “There's a magic field all around. And there's something I got to do first...”

Zycra put Konta on the ground and concentrated for a few seconds, using her innate fire power to engulf her whole body in fire, before casting it away an instant after in a flash. Her body was now covered in a hellish black and infernal red dress that covered her breasts to mid-thighs, highlighting her feminine curves. She curiously decided to remain bare-footed.

“Nice costume. Planning to scare some child?”

“Gryjiel is a perverted, dirty old demon, and an eccentric one too. He always wears flashy colors and dresses the succubi he employs as housemaids and other weird things. This,” she showed her demonic dress, “is only for mystery. Last time I saw him was when I was almost fully grown-up and... The less he sees, the better, trust me.”

She gently picked up Konta and put him back on her shoulder. Then Zycra casually knocked on the gate. After a few instants, a voice, coming from nowhere, addressed to the succubus.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“Zycra Zordford. I'm here to meet Gryjiel the Nefarious.”

“Do you have an appointment with master Gryjiel?”

“Nope,” she said with a naive smile.

Konta face palmed himself.

“A moment please.”

And after a moment...

“Mistress Zordford” continued the invisible voice “master Gryjiel is honored to welcome you into his humble residence. He'd like to greet you personally in his Hall of Despair.”

“I gladly accept his invitation! Care to show me the way?”

The gate emitted a metallic cling before slowly opening, revealing a little, dwarf-sized flying imp, a bit smaller than Konta. When he spoke, Zycra realized the voice she was hearing was his, only he was hidden behind the magical gate.

“Welcome to The Gloomy Plague, mistress Zordford. I'll be your guide for today.”

Then the imp noticed Konta on her shoulder and winced.

“And this is...?”

“A friend of mine,” Zycra said casually. “Is there a problem?”

“I don't think master Gryjiel will be pleased to hear that-”

“I don't care what Gryjiel sees fit or not. This human is with me and under my protection. You better tell that to your master.”

“As mistress Zordford commands” bowed the imp.

Then he motioned at the immense castle behind him, which the fence surrounding the property had magically hidden from view unless inside its perimeter. Zycra smiled as she followed the tiny imp. She was certain to find what she was looking for.

 

***

 

Gaziv momentarily traveled through a tiny split in time and space, traversing many dimensions in a flash of colors before being sucked back in his soul-body. Instantly, he was tossed around in a very unpleasant manner as he was being squished in the bottom of a what seemed to be a leather sack. There was absolutely no light, but he knew he was with other doomed souls, in the same bad position as he was. All of them were squirming in fright, anticipating the worst. So was Gaziv, who, in his unexpected position, could barely imagine what could happen to him. This was Hell, after all, the great land of eternal suffering. He sighed as he remembered his fetish words:

“There must have been an error,” he whispered.

They were all bulging and squirming like helpless, frantic flies caught in a spider's web. Being on the bottom was probably a good thing, he thought. At least he would not suffer first, that was for sure. It slightly comforted him, though he presumed he probably wouldn't last very long.

Suddenly, they all felt the feeling of being lifted into the air, as they realized they were being carried. Some screamed, some cried. The whole pack was scared to death. Reason had left them. Then, they heard someone whistling a merry little tune. Light filled the pear-like sack as a demon opened it, not even taking a look at its contents. He plunged his hand in the sack and lazily closed it around two souls.

Gaziv couldn't see a thing, but he clearly heard a door opening by itself in a loud creak. The poor two souls frightfully screamed, and then were cut short by a slamming door. Everyone heard it, everyone knew something horrific just happened, and that they were next. The sack wiggled about from their desperate movements, but that didn't stop the demon from taking three more souls. This time, Gaziv saw the red hand with dirty, pointy nails wrapping around the damned, lifting them up in the air. Next, he heard another door opening, followed by a cavernous gurgling sound. And then an ominous silence. A long one. The door quietly closed and locked itself in a calm, disturbing way. They could only guess what could have happened to the three souls who mysteriously disappeared in total silence.

A now slightly more agitated Gaziv could see the red-brick ceiling above him, meaning he was potentially a candidate for the next door's monster. The hand didn't pluck near him, but it did get a grasp on three new souls. Another door opened and this time, Gaziv saw the horror.

The demon just held the two women and one man above his head. All of a sudden, two very thin tentacles emerged from the open door. Gaziv gasped as he saw purple stings emerge from the dark yellow tentacles. Swiftly, it pierced through two of the bodies the demon was holding, causing them to shriek in pain as they were lifted in the air and quickly drawn in the chamber, disappearing forever. The sound of bones crunching echoed in the passage whilst the poor, lonely soul cried in fear as he saw scene from his point of view, as well as the monster itself – clear as day, as it emerged to feed. Then his eyes widened in fear and before he could make a single noise, the last soul was thrown in the air by the demon. Gaziv, immobile in the bag, saw a much bigger, wider, hairy tentacle with teeth at the edge engulf him in mid-air. And the door closed itself softly.

Seven of them were left, Gaziv counted. It was now easier for him to notice everyone, even if it would only be a matter of minutes before they all disappear. He was surprised to recognize a few cubits away the obese Ytoff Meyachev, the one who was in front of him in the line, in the same bad position as he was. Ytoff had seen him too, but none of them were able to sustain Sunday courtesies. Beside him, another soul had succeeded in piercing a little hole in the bag with a small knife. It wasn't enough to escape, but it was a good start.

The dreaded sound of a door opening happened again, and this time the demon took two of them, including the one with the knife, carrying the precious weapon with him. Gaziv shivered as he felt the heated skin of the demon against his leg. Being right next to the hole, he got an exclusive view on the next torture scene.

Unlike the others, the demon chained them and, snapping his fingers, grew them to the same size as the red-skinned satanic figure. Noticing the knife, he confiscated it and threw it away. At first, they didn't understand; the demon forcefully pushed them into the room, laughing through the process. He entered the room with the sack, and Gaziv only got glimpses of what was awaiting inside, but what he saw frightened him even more. An enormous pale red dragon in an enormous room filled with high pillars made of marble. The dragon had white and yellow colors on his belly and big black bat-like wings on its back. The beast was awakened by the noise, but its eyes immediately focused on the new treat it was being offered. The demon, still laughing, snapped his fingers once more, creating a magic barrier between him and the souls, trapping them with the dragon. Gaziv saw, image by image, the fate of his companions. Not waiting one more second, the dragon hurled itself at the two morsels and opened its mouth wide. Before they could move, the dragon completely engulfed one of them in its gaping mouth, breaking the chains at the same time with its sharp carnivorous teeth. The dragon straightened up, its prey still in its mouth and, with a few pushes of its forked tongue, swallowed the screaming soul whole. The remaining treat had nowhere to run as the room was circular and the magic field created by the demon covered the entire room. He nonetheless tried to run behind the dragon as he heard the soul being swallowed with a very unpleasant gulping sound. The dragon's tail tripped him up and he fell down on his side. The last image Gaziv saw of him was the extreme fear that passed through the person's gaze as the immense, watering mouth of the dragon, filled with sword-like teeth, towered above his tiny figure, ready to eat him alive as well. Then the door closed.

Laughing and whistling at the same time, the demon realized that there was no other doors left. It happened sometimes, doors appeared randomly in the passageway to feed the multiple creatures his master possessed, before disappearing after some seemingly random period of time, though he rarely knew what to do with the remaining souls each time. He sighed as he grabbed the human right next to Gaziv and opened a portal.

“There,” he said, throwing the soul into the portal, “Second Gate of Hell. Have fun!”

He looked in the bag and, smiling, took another one in his hand.

“Let's see... Oh yes!” he laughed, touching the portal. “The freezing desert of Acheron! Eh eh eh, they say a soul can't die of freezing, it's just an endless suffering, save that you are alone, and no one will ever find you. It has been kinda snowy these past millenia...”

And he threw the poor old man into the portal.

“And for you,” he said, picking up Gaziv. “I think I have just the right thing for you...”

The poor soul tried to break free of the grasp of the demon, but there was nothing he could do. He had abandoned hope when, surprisingly, the demon straightened up in a kind of military way.

“Yes, master!” he said out loud.

He was listening to a voice inside his head.

“No master, only feeding your pets some souls, master!”

Then Gaziv saw him roll his eyes and agree with his superior.

“Alright, master. I'm on my way, master.”

The demon looked at Gaziv and said, before tossing him in the almost empty bag:

“You're lucky master Gryjiel is receiving a host. I had better plans for you.”

 

***

 

The Hall of Despair, Zycra found, wasn't far from the gates. She followed the little imp to the main doors of the castle, which the small creature opened for her, then he guided her through the palace until they arrived in a great red hall filled with golden tapestry, all harboring motifs of great military stories. Zycra could sometimes feel Konta sighing or mumbling inaudible words. She knew he wasn't scared, but she also knew, by his vibe, that he was a bit ill-at-ease being in this particular place. Konta was maybe a warrior, but against magic, particularly from demons, he stood no chance. The succubus laughed inwardly at the thought of all the impossible situations she had put him through since he delivered her.

Zycra marched behind the little winged-demon on a soft carpet with yellow, red and blue patterns. She resisted the temptation of crushing the tiny Gustave (the imp's name) under her bare foot, just to make him shut up about all the glorious things Gryjiel the Nefarious had accomplished in his past and his rambling description of each stone they passed. While they were walking, she could sense Konta's curiosity as she too noticed all of the small animals and insects that swarmed the floor. Most of them were directly looking at Konta, smelling his fresh blood, but wouldn't dare approach Zycra.

“What are they?” asked Konta.

“Cursed spirits, for the most part, sometimes we call them pawns. There is an infinity of them in Hell. They wouldn't hesitate tearing you apart for dinner,” she answered with a smirk, torturing him. “I don't think you'll be bothered.”

Konta sighed as he grabbed the handle of his sword in a defensive manner.

Halfway through the hall, Gryjiel appeared in a cloud of pink smoke right in front of his majestic red and gold throne, elevated from the rest of the hall by a small staircase. Gryjiel was taller than Zycra by two heads. His face barely had any remnants of recognizable features or figure due to all of the scares that butchered his face. His demon horns were huge, violently winding above his head. Dressed, as Zycra had guessed, in an eccentric manner, he wore a light blue and flashy yellow gown, with a red and purple chain around his waist. He had dark glasses before his eyes and wore no shoes, too. Gryjiel seemed very pleased about the succubus' presence.

“Mistress Zordford,” exclaimed the demon in an elegant manner, bowing to her. His voice sounded like a steel flair striking a metallic eructing tonorion. “Such a delightful surprise to greet you here between these walls. You should have warned me of your visit, I feel bad for such an improvised reception. A member of your illustrious family deserves much, much better.”

“I'm not here on behalf of my family, Gryjiel. I only represent myself,” she responded warmly – with a slight hint of her naive smile.

“But you do possess the name of your family,” he insisted, disappearing from his throne and then reappearing beside her in another pink cloud that almost made her cough. “The only child of the mighty Zoreng Zordford and steel-minded Laleiss. You even bear your family's coat of arms.”

With a claw of his, he softly stroke Zycra's shoulder, admiring her beauty. It was then that he noticed Konta, on her shoulder, who was looking at him in a strange way.

“Yyyuck!” exclaimed Gryjiel in disgust. “You brought your human pet with you! These things stink!”

He pinched his nose and waved at the air around him while Konta smelled his armpit in confusion.

“He's not my pet,” replied Zycra, stroking Konta's body.

“Maybe, maybe, but I don't want him around. Just put him there,” he pointed at a shelf not too far from them, beside his throne.

She nodded picked up Konta, asking him: “You gonna behave?”

“Sitting my ass on a giant-sized demon table, I don't think I'll have a choice.”

She warmly smiled at him and carefully deposed him on the surface turning her attention back to Gryjiel. Alone on his promontory, Konta noticed that many of the creatures were amassing beneath him, on the ground below. He looked at Zycra, who was already walking away, not giving him further attention. Looking back at the creatures, he saw that a goo-like human-sized spider was climbing the shelf. He unsheathed his sword.

“What can an illustrious representative of your family be doing so deep in the nothingness of this part of the world? And how can an humble demon like Gryjiel the Nefarious win the favors of the Zordford clan?”

“I'm looking for a particular object,” she simply responded with a sly grin, glancing towards him.

“Ah! An object!” he disappeared then reappeared a few meters ahead of her, leaving small clouds behind him. “How many times have I heard this? You've come to the right place, Zycra Zordford! I have a ton of objects. Objects that people would pay a lot to have.”

He gazed at her, searching for any flinches or signs of hesitation; but she remained firm, still grinning innocently.

“But first!” he clapped his hands and teleported himself right in front of her. “Let me offer you some refreshment before we conduct business. Thirsty, hungry?”

“Mostly hungry,” she hummed, stomach rumbling in agreement.

“It's on it's way,” he said, taking a few moments to communicate telepathically with his servant. “Now, tell me more about this... 'object' of yours.”

“I'm looking for a Jar of Silkurnis. You must have heard of it.” The prospect of food made her empty belly gurgle.

“Yes, yes, I have,” he said, stroking his right horn. “Magical artifacts created by Arch-King Silkurnis the Gluttonous so that he would never die of starvation. He made a ton of them just to be sure. They can materialize any food you can think of... Only once per jar. You're looking for a rare treat, aren't you?”

“Yes, precisely,” Zycra's eyes shined. “I need one.”

“I think I have a couple somewhere, I'll have to send a demon to fetch it. Oh, speak of the angel!”

A demon carrying a small leather sack appeared from a vortex next to the throne. Zycra's eyes suddenly flashed with freshly born voracity, as she heard noises coming from the bag, her mouth instinctively watering as her pointy ears twitched.

“You summoned me, my master?” said the demon, kneeling.

“Yes, yes, put the bag there,” Gryjiel pointed at a table not so far from Zycra, close to the stairs leading up to one of the palace towers. “Also, I'll need you to check the vault. I'm looking for a Jar of Silkurnis. Do it quickly.”

“As you wish, master.”

The demon set down the bag, bowed once again and disappeared through another vortex.

Konta, in his precarious situation, was slashing with all his force through the goo insect crawling towards him. Every time, it was like slicing through water, and Konta was running out of solutions. A fall this high would probably break a few important bones of his and he couldn't resort to calling Zycra for help. She'll never cease to harass him. He faced the mutant spider, but then it was distracted when, behind the arachnid, something that seemed to be a strange mixture between a felaryan chlaenas and a neko's hair ball also made its way on top of the shelf. Konta, even though he wasn't a skilled magician, managed to cast a small red and yellow fireball in his hand and quickly threw it towards his new foe, burning it painfully – causing it to fall off the shelf to its doom. Konta looked down below and saw the hundreds of enemies coming towards his position in a chaotic and eager manner. He sighed and held his flaming sword with both his hands, ready to face them all.

Further from Konta, Zycra was completely unaware of her friend's problems. The succubus wasn't far from the slightly bulging bag, filled with tasty prey, and she had her eye on it. While Zycra was distracted, Gryjiel approached her once more.

“As for the price...” he started.

“We'll talk price when I see you have the object, not before,” she retorted, her attention directed at her future lunch. She could have sworn she heard someone using the H word.

“As it pleases your grace,” he nodded, slightly annoyed by Zycra's bad manners. “If I may not be too indiscreet, may I ask why you want a Jar like this?”

Zycra was about to answer, but her eyes caught a small, interesting detail on the table to her left. She did see, indeed, a hand followed by an arm making its way out of the bag. Losing interest in Gryjiel, she opened her mouth and lashed her elastic tongue out, striking at the small arm trying to make an escape. She vigorously wrapped her tongue around the arm, trapping her prey. With the strength of her pink muscle, Zycra, smiling as the taste of the soul already filled her taste buds, lifted out of the bag a frightened woman who was utterly shocked at the sudden attack. The succubus lifted her prey high into the air, the human-soul screaming, and tossed her into the air to get a better grip on her next meal. Stretching her elastic organ even more, she reached for the falling human and, dexterously, coiled her tongue around the poor woman, reducing her chances of escape to zero. Completely wrapped around by the succubus' wet, warm tongue, she groaned in frustration as Zycra quickly drew her inside her awaiting mouth. Happy with the renewed taste of a delicious soul, Zycra happily sucked on the woman. She looked towards Gryjiel - who had seen the entire process - and sucked on her prey harder, gazing right into his eyes in a very sensual manner. Wetting the little human inside her mouth with lewd sounds, she partially parted her lips, revealing her glistening teeth and, behind them, a small, panicked creature who immediately crawled towards the light. She did make it halfway out of Zycra's maw but, in a moan of enjoyment, the succubus wrapped her prey within the grasp of her serpentine tongue once more. Taking her time, she slowly brought back her meal's legs inside the entrance to her giant-sized body, then her belly, then her torso. Her flailing, waving arms came next, her head turning this way and that as she desperately wriggled her shoulders. Casually enjoying her meal's frantic movement, Zycra completely curled her tongue around the woman, thoroughly licking her face with the tip of her tongue. A muffled scream echoed, only to disappear forever as Zycra entirely drew her back in, this time sealing her lips shut. She enjoyed sloshing her before knocking her entire body on the roof of her palate, heavily sucking on her taste. The flavor was that of the sins that earned her a stay in Hell, but had not justified a prolonged punishment reserved for darker souls. Spicy, tangy, juicy, the taste was amplified with the fear the woman's soul emitted. When mixed together, they produced a one and only taste set to that person's specific taint. After having thoroughly explored every inch of her body with her skilled tongue, she knocked the woman against her palate again, just for the fun of it, before swallowing her whole. A lump passed down Zycra's throat as she exhaled in satisfaction.

“Quite impressive,” noted Gryjiel.

“You don't know how much I missed their taste” she licked her lips. “Here, humans always tasted so differently, so...”

“Unique. Yes, they make a remarkable treat. Especially when one is starving. There is more, if you like.” Gryjiel was unsatisfied with the way this transaction was going, but he felt he had to be the most excellent host to maintain his reputation across Hell.

“Oh thanks! Actually, one is never filling a stomach. It just hints at how much another one would be perfect.”

“Be my guest,” he pointed both arms towards the bag, bowing slightly.

Zycra licked her lips, tasting the last remnants of the woman's sin. She then stretched her tongue, just like she did before, only this time she plunged her tentacle-like organ directly into the bag. Laughing as she felt the humans inside struggle for their souls, she circled her tongue around an ankle and withdrew it from the bag. Genuinely curious about her new prey, Zycra noticed how fat he was. She smiled even more, his unique flavor filling her tastebuds, so different than the previous she had, and yet still excellent. But this human wouldn't be eaten so easily, she noticed, as he rapidly broke off Zycra's grip and fell on the table, beside the leather sack. Enjoying her fierce opponent, Zycra told him:

“Beaf my tsongue in single com'bat, n' y'u're free to go!”

“Wha-”

The man was brutally punched in the chest by the succubus tongue, falling again. He quickly got up and readied his fists as his pink, quivering foe was about to strike again. He nimbly dodged her frontal attack, punching the spongy surface. He sighed as he saw how little damage it did. Zycra launched her tongue at him again, purposely missing his left flank. The man, gaining confidence, never saw his error until it was too late. Zycra's tongue, much more agile, came back behind him, passing between his legs. The poor soul realized how easy he has been defeated and could only prepare himself as the giant, wriggling member pushed his leg aside, making him fall on her wet tongue. Laughing at her easy victory, she lifted him high in the air, like he was laying on a deadly red flying carpet and malevolently surrounded his whole body within the grasp of her moist muscle. In all her lustiness, Zycra was slowly, carefully bringing him into her gaping mouth, awaiting his butterfat body. She recognized the salty taste of slavers, with a touch of adultery - an exceptional treat. Her lips mischievously curled into a seductive smile, as the man frantically fought against her tongue's solid grip on his body. Giggling, she only straightened her clutch around his body, amused by his spirit. He continued fighting as he fully entered her enormous, wide-open mouth, strands of saliva decorating the pink interior of her deadly, cavernous maw. The man had a burst of energy when he noticed the uvula hanging above her throat, and the dark drop leading deep down her body. The succubus unrolled her tongue off his body and began tasting him more thoroughly. She welcomed his arrival into the entry of her mature body with a long, thoughtful lick. To her delight, her prey continued his wrestling match atop her tongue, thrashing around vigorously. She merrily replied to his attacks, coating him in the same time with her sticky fluids, constantly swishing him aside within her mouth, wrestling back and winning easily. She had full power over him, and there was nothing he could do to avoid his fate. Zycra drained more and more of his energy, exhausting him, sucking dry his strength. Above all, his delicious taste was putting her in a joyful mood. She pushed him to the front of her mouth and let his head slide between her lips, slithering her tongue underneath him as if it were a mattress. She exercised a pressure with her youthful lips over his head, as a goodbye kiss, and slurped the obese man back in. Zycra kept playing with him all around her mouth for some time before she tossed him inside her cheek, swallowed her accumulated saliva, brought him back on her tongue again, only to knock him hard a few times against her palate again, to mock him, to let him know she was the victor and him, the loser. She swallowed his squirming body without giving it any further thought. She put a finger on the big lump he created when traveling down her esophagus all the way down to her stomach, where he would meet his other friend already waiting for him. She sighed in contentment.

“Now that was tasty! Where did you find these?” she said, patting her belly.

“A little deal I made with Menocles. An offer he couldn't refuse.”

“And he fills your domain with fresh souls?” Zycra was genuinely surprised.

“Much easier than gathering them from out there, in the wastelands, don't you agree?”

“I guess it's a good idea. You won't tell me how you did it, will you?”

“You're a demon yourself, miss Zordford. You already know the answer. In Hell, everything is possible if you have..."

“...the right thing to trade,” she completed, mocking his saying with a movement of her hands.

“Speaking of trade,” he said, putting both his hands on her frail shoulders. “Don't you think maybe it's time to negotiate the price? A Jar of Silkurnis is a very rare object and-”

“I already told you, Gryjiel, when I see it with my own eyes, we'll talk. Besides...”

“Besides..?” inquired the demon.

Zycra's stomach gurgled.

“I wouldn't mind another soul. Just one tiny itchy-pitchy last,” she said, pinching her thumb with her index.

“Even if you're attitude is unpalatable, by all means, miss Zordford,” he said bowing again.

It is then that Zycra let out a small shriek of surprise, while Gryjiel stroke his horn in confusion. On the table, the leather sack containing the last soul had just disappeared.

 

***

 

“I'm Holena, who are you two?”

“Ytoff Meyachev.”

“Gaziv.”

The only three remaining survivors were still agitated after all they've seen thus far. None of them knew what “Acheron” or “Second gate of Hell” meant, but they knew they could have to face a similar fate. Being transferred somewhere else would give them the time to plan their escape and be effective about it. The top of the sack, with their strength combined, was reachable. But not while the demon was walking. They had to wait, so they talked about a step by step plan.

“I have an idea,” began Holena. “We will make a human ladder. Ytoff, since you're the heaviest, you'll be at the bottom, with Gaziv on your shoulders, and me on his. Once I reach the outside, I'll find a way to save you two.”

“Sounds like a stupid plan,” said the obese slaver. “What's in it for me, huh?”

“What tells us you'll come back for us?” added Gaziv.

“I don't think we have a choice. I know I can't support either of your weight on my shoulders, and certainly not yours,” she pointed at Ytoff Meyachev. “I'm sorry guys, I just think it makes sense for me to get out first.”

“Don't take me for a fool, girl! I'll have you whipped for you insolence!” he said in a burst that shook his triple-chin.

“If I were you, I'd escape first chance. Why should I trust you?” dubiously asked Gaziv.

“If you were me, what would you answer? Come on boys! I mean, what choice do we really have, here? You've seen what awaits us all. It's probably our only chance to get the hell out of here.”

“And then what?” asked Gaziv.

“That's a problem for later. But first off, we need to get out of here,” Holena clapped her fists together, pumping her energy up.

This is when they heard the demon's voice speaking:

“You summoned me, my master?”

“Yes, yes,” replied a cavernous voice, “put the bag there. Also, I'll need you to go check in the vault. I'm looking for a Jar of Silkurnis. Do it quickly.”

“As you wish, master.”

The three survivors felt they were being carried before abruptly landing on a solid surface. The demon walked away from them, lighting a fire in Holena' eyes, a fire that spread to Gaziv and Ytoff as well. This was their chance. They were so little, they would probably all go unnoticed. Holena's plan could have a chance of success, after all. If she was true to her words.

They heard a portal being cast, and then a discussion began between the weird-sounding older demon and a younger, more normal, feminine voice. But they didn't have time to listen, as every second was precious.

“Once I get out of here, I promise I'll help you two,” solemnly said Holena. “On my honor.”

“Enough of that and get on my shoulders already,” Ytoff grumbled, kneeling slightly to help Gaziv.

Gaziv nodded at him and easily climbed on the sponge-like shoulders of the Frezaggi slaver. Holena had a more complicated time finding her balance and climbing her two companions, but she was finally able to precariously stand up on Gaziv's shoulder. Freedom was nigh.

“I can almost reach it,” she said, stretching her arm to its maximum. “So close, so close...”

Ytoff rose on his tiptoes in an ultimate effort, giving the woman a few more centimeters. These were just enough as she was able to grab the edge of the sack.

“I made it!” she whispered at them

“Great, now get the Hell out of there and help us out!” replied Ytoff.

Holena nodded as she grabbed the edge with her other arm, pushed herself up and was able to get her arm past the edge of the sack. She was almost out when, suddenly, out of nowhere, a pink, serpentine tentacle quickly rolled itself around her arm, causing her to shriek in surprise. She panicked when she realized she couldn't get her arm out of the grip, and let out a high-pitched scream when she was quickly lifted high up in the air. Both Gaziv and Ytoff were shocked when they saw Holena being tossed in the air like a mere toy, before seeing her whole body being wrapped with what they now saw as a giant tongue. A moment later, she was being carried out of their field of view, but they clearly understood where she would end. Their ears caught the noise of a feminine laugh as Holena was being devoured alive.

“What now!” yelled Ytoff, shaking Gaziv's shoulders.

“I...I...we...”

“Let's just push the damn thing with all our strength! Just push! Ready? 3,2,1, ram!”

Ytoff was slowly losing it, Gaziv noted. Still, they rushed with all their might on the opposite direction where they saw Holena disappear, hoping they were close to the edge of the table. The first hit did nothing, but the second time, they noticed they had pushed the bag for at least a few centimeters. Ytoff's weight was a great help to their desperate plan. A spark of hope was still visible in their eyes. They continued, unaware of the discussion happening in the hall, and mostly unaware of the female's lethal intention. When light disappeared from within the bag, Gaziv and Ytoff looked above to see, in horror, the enormous tongue entering the bag, searching for a new meal.

“NOT ME! NOT ME!” screamed Ytoff.

And then he punched Gaziv hard on the stomach, making him fall on his knee.

“What the hell are you-”

“I WON'T DIE LIKE THIS! YOU ARE!”

Ytoff threw another punch at him, but Gaziv, much smaller and quicker than his opponent, was able to dodge the slaver's attack. Gaziv responded with a kick right between the legs of his new foe. His face turned blue and his eyes widened in the pain. Gaziv knew he lacked honor, but his opponent was way bigger than him - in Hell, there were no more rules. He jumped on Ytoff, dominating him and about to punch him more when he felt the tongue stroking his legs, searching for a prey. A shiver ran through his entire body and, quickly, Gaziv switched place with a still wincing Ytoff Meyachev. The latter now had his back facing the opening, and the dreaded moist muscle. The smaller soul felt crushed by the slaver's heavy weight, but his plan worked as the tongue wrapped itself around Ytoff's ankle. His eyes widened again, but this time in fear as he realized he was caught. He screamed in both fright and pain, trying to hurt back Gaziv, but it was too late. He was quickly lifted up in the air, madly squirming against his fate.

Gaziv heard the feminine voice talking briefly to Ytoff, but he couldn't give it any attention as he was absolutely certain that if there was to be a next prey, it would be him. This time, he had been lucky, lucky and disloyal, but still alive and with a chance of escaping.

With all his might, with all his strength, he continued to push on the leather sack. He could hear the woman enjoying Ytoff's taste and it almost made him gag. He continued pushing, and pushing, and pushing, tackling the bag as hard he could. One centimeter at a time, he was getting closer to freedom, he knew it. Then it finally happened. Under his feet, he could feel the bag give way to open air, meaning he was at the table's edge. With one final effort, he pushed with all of his weight against the leather, and gravity did the rest. The fall did hurt him a little, but surprisingly, he was still well enough to move. The sack had fallen on its length in a muffled noise; he crawled until he reached the exit and, without even thinking, ran straight to the staircase in front of him.

It would have been easier to go down, but Gaziv could only go up – and he had a very bad memory of what he saw in the dungeons. Fortunately for him, the stairs were easy to climb even for a tiny like him in a gigantic palace. When he was about to reach the top, he heard a terrifying discussion happening downstairs:

“Look, the bag is under the table! Clever little soul, it probably escaped that way.”

Few words were quickly exchanged before the feminine voice added with a playful giggle:

“Be right back.”

Gaziv nearly fell as he saw the shadow of a succubus heading directly into the staircase. He shook his head and ran until he reached the top. From there, he could go left or right, down two seemingly identical halls. Having no clue and no time to think, he headed down the left side. It was a corridor, filled with many dark doors in a dreary mix of red carpet and hard brick, with color shades varying from plum to aubergine. So few torches lit up the way, it was impossible for his human eyes to see if there was an end. The same thing applied when he turned back. Trembling, unsure of what do to, he just ran straight until he found, quite by miracle, a gap on the wall on his left, just big enough for him to enter. He looked back another time, making sure he hadn't been seen. Seeing no one, he entered the gap quickly.

The small gap revealed itself to be a small tunnel leading into one of the many rooms. When he reached the end, he allowed himself to smile. He was under a table and on the opposite wall to him was a four-poster bed draped with red and blue silk, many, many pillows scattered across the room on the soft red carpet surface and, it almost brought a tear to his eye, a window. Reaching it was probably very dangerous, as it was directly over the shelf beside the bed. Strangely, there was a maid costume lying on the shelf, but he brushed the thought aside. He couldn't just wait there inside a wall for the impossible to happen. He had to risk it. He breathed in and ran on his tiptoes.

He didn't even make it two steps when a large, warm hand scooped him up from above. Squirming in protest, and cursing himself for being so stupid, he quickly rose, finding himself face to face to a fire-succubus. Green eyed with short blonde hair, with red streaks mixed in, she was hungrily looking at him. Tall and slim, her body was that of a young woman in her twenties, only she had two silver wings with blue reflections decorating her back and a pair of pointy horns emerging from her head. Crouching on her knees on the table, she had been waiting for him to move out the tiny tunnel. He probably wasn't the first one who fell for the trap.

“Well, well, well. What is this?” she grinned. “A lost little soul seeking refuge?”

She poked him with her free index finger, causing him to tremble.

“Let me go!”

“Oh, I'll let you go, don't worry about that. Do you know how delicious you smell, lil' mousie? I smelled you the moment you came upstairs.”

She stroked her tummy as she rose up, giving Gaziv a sudden burst of vertigo. She was enormously tall, and to notice he could fit perfectly into the palm of her hand made him feel completely powerless. Was this the end? Was it over? He couldn't think much about his ongoing fate as he suddenly felt being slowly licked over the back of his head. He quivered, frightened, as big strands of saliva came down under his neck and over his face, covering his eyes and blinding him.

“Oh, I'm sorry little soul,” she said with false apathy. “Here, let me help you.”

She lay on the bed, and held him above her face. She playfully opened her mouth and let out her elastic tongue, this time licking him all over his tiny body, wetting every part of him very slowly. She clearly enjoyed toying with him, as she saw he was losing hope more and more. Gaziv's chances of survival were dramatically falling. The dark equation behind Hell. He was bound to end terribly and suffer for his sin, his haunting error.

“I don't think you'll be needing these anymore,” said the succubus with a giggle as she tore off his clothes with a very sharp claw.

When she let out her long, stretchy tongue from her mouth, Gaziv didn't react, even when it came tickling his feet. The succubus, trying to get him moving, gave a few slaps on his legs with her tongue, making him dangle like a bell. Then she wrapped her serpentine member all around his legs, stabilizing him. She enveloped him until the muscle reached his arms, curling her tongue upwards across his naked body. She released him from her fingers, leaving him completely at the mercy of her pink third-limb. She rocked him from left to right, laughing in the process. She clearly saw she was making him dizzy, and decided to coil her long tongue all the way up to his torso. He could only move his head and arms, which he held high, as if he was sinking in quicksand. He could clearly see her very sharp fangs, as sharp as those of a dangerous predator, and squirmed in fear as he recalled the horrible bone-crushing sound he heard while in the dungeons. He tried, in a last attempt, to break free of her tongue. But it was already too late for him. Or was it?

All of the sudden, the door slammed open, almost exploding, and a feminine silhouette wearing a black, elegant dress erupted from the passageway. At first Gaziv only saw a long, dark, flowing ponytail falling from her back. Both hands seated on her hips, she was of a golden-brown skin color with amber eyes. On her left arm sat a strange tattoo, that he would never get the meaning of.

“What the heaven are you doing!” yelled Zycra at the blonde succubus.

“Zycra Zordford?” the blonde succubus recognized the heir of arch-demon Zoreng Zordford. Her elocution was altered due to speaking with her tongue around Gaziv. “Vwhat are you-”

To her surprise, Zycra lashed her frog-like tongue and quickly enveloped Gaziv's head and arms within her own wet grasp.

“He'z mein tso eats!” said the chocolate-skinned succubus, her mouth already salivating from Gaziv's unique taste.

Completely trapped between the two muscles and left in darkness as both tongues tightened their grip on his body, Gaziv couldn't even move a thumb. Sticky saliva coating all over his body, he could only hear the omnipresent noise of dripping water rubbing his eardrums and a faint discussion between the two fire-succubi. And, Gaziv realized to his own dismay, he wasn't able to hold back the stiffening erection of his manhood. Strangely, a depraved part of him enjoyed the feeling of such an intimate feminine body part being all around him.

“No he'z nots! I'h sfsound its sfirsts!”

Gaziv felt he was being pulled by his legs, but was immediately brought back by a vigorous, humid twist. Suddenly the tongue holding his arms pierced through her foe's defense when the tip of Zycra's organ snaked all over his torso, worming its way across his belly, then passed over his erected member and went between his legs, climbing up his back. With a flick of her tongue, she freed Gaziv from the other succubus' grasp, raising him high in the air, claiming him all for herself. Noticing she was losing her snack, still-blinded Gaziv heard the blond succubus run towards her rival, only to be knocked out by a spell he never got the chance to see. The blond succubus' tongue shrank all the way back into her mouth as she fell on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, it'sf you n' me now!” The victorious feminine voice of the pony-tailed succubus hummed.

Gaziv washed his eyes and gulped as he was carried back in front of the large smiling face of his “savior”. She was twenty times bigger than him! His gaze was instinctively attracted to her big, deep eyes. The succubus slightly tilted her head, gazing back at him curiously. Inadvertently, due to her hypnotic powers and natural magnetism, she easily found her way into his mind. Gaziv felt a cold presence piercing through his head, eerie and chaotic, but kept on staring into the obscure warmness of the succubus seductive eyes. His entire life was summed up in the flash of an anachronistic kaleidoscope. Zycra got access to the atrocity he had committed, as well as his short trip in Hell. All his hopes, his desires, his weaknesses, his most intimate secrets and memories were presented to Zycra in a succession of rapid images. The totality of his very soul was filtered by her demonic leer. She got a taste of the very essence of Gaziv's being, and it instantly made her salivate in sheer excitement. She jokingly winked at him, breaking the spell, and told him while closing her predatory eyes in joyful ecstasy:

“Mmh now I undersftand why yo're ssso tasssty! I'm gonna endjoy you!”

She leaned her head back, raising her tongue high in the air. Gaziv, still trapped, felt for the second time an unpleasant fear gripping his intestines as he was carried so far up that he could almost touch the ceiling. He was unconsciously curious and amazed at how stretchy her tongue was. Maybe it didn't have a limit. In front of him laid the most mortally dangerous slide of all, one leading all the way directly into the dark drop of her throat, the exit door of her red, enormous maw, the interior of which was decorated with many strands of saliva in her mouth. The watered stalagmites and stalactites shone as light entered the damp, abysmal cavern. A breathtaking view that made him shiver. She giggled, as she felt his body tremble, getting more and more impatient to get a full taste of his sinful, enticing soul. The aura he emitted was much more appetizing than the previous fat man she ate, although she hoped her new delicious prey could struggle just as much as he had. Gaziv saw Zycra stroking her loudly eructing belly, the same way the blond succubus has done before, and felt the pressure around his body loosen. Seeing what she was doing, Gaziv muttered “There must have been an error” one last time before he tried to hang himself onto her undulating slimy flesh, but all his efforts were vain as she dexterously flipped him with the tip of her tongue, making him fall headfirst directly towards her wide-open, awaiting mouth. Sliding with both his hands in front of him, as if it could slow down the inevitable, he slid faster as he was gaining speed on the very soft and slippery surface. His entire world had become the rose, dripping interior of the alluring entrance to her feminine body. Saliva splashed against his face as he was heading towards the gaping darkness. Time slowed, and after what seemed like a terribly long fall, he entered her youthful mouth. Zycra immediately clamped her soft, luscious lips around his waist, imprisoning his upper body in his new waterlogged prison cell. She let him hang there while she rolled up her tongue back into her mouth in a very wet noise. Gaziv felt all the soggy, vigorous muscle pass under him between his legs, over his belly and face as he witnessed, first hand, the elasticity of her unique attribute. Plunged in complete darkness, Gaziv could only move his hands and legs in protest of his fate, of which she replied through a moan filled with desire towards his taste, with a subtle giggling sound. When her tongue got back to its normal size, she felt on her lower lip the erected member of her little prey. She was nicely surprised by this, as she thought about how Konta would react if she were to put him naked in the same position. Gaziv heard another moan of enjoyment echo in her mouth followed by a chortle and she began to lick his face and torso, doubling the intensity of his squirming. He tried to push back her powerful muscle with his bare hands, to no avail, as they would only slip on the slithering member that continuously splashed all over his body. Gaziv could only hear saliva sounds washing all over him in the hot dampness of the succubus' humid mouth. His hair was already as wet as if he had dove into a lake. Then, in a single movement, the succubus opened her mouth, letting the light in. She firmly jolted her head back, engulfing in her mouth the last half of Gaziv's body, before shutting her lips behind him, sealing him in the confines of her oral cavity. Fully inside her, Gaziv extended his arms on both side of her lusty tongue, in the hope of getting a better balance in his very precarious situation, to no avail, as she had complete power over him. Droplets of saliva often trickled from the roof of her mouth onto him. She shifted him around, sloshing him thoroughly, rolling him over and around her meaty muscle. Zycra was cheerfully exploring every inch of his body and there was nothing he could do, except letting himself go as her mere object of amusement, her little plaything – her literal amuse-gueule. She took advantage of his inferiority, squishing him hard on the roof of her palate, forcing him to hug her quivering tongue, extracting more and more of his flavor with overly audible slurping sounds. Her warm breath embraced his thick, heavily sticky skin, entirely covered in her dribbling liquid. He couldn't even open his mouth to catch his breath without swallowing huge quantities of her saliva and choking on it. Gaziv continued to be sucked on as he noticed, in his calvary, her breath changing its pace. He was bouncing on her soft plump tongue, meaning she was probably walking. Where? Why? His body was pushed to her front teeth, slipping under her tongue which made a good fun at smacking his skin while he was leaning against the limestone surface. Disoriented in this shaky, unstable and utterly dark environment, the poor lost soul was being thrown around aimlessly, hitting his head on her gums and teeth, although each time he was nearing her molars or her sharp fangs, he made sure he crawled in the opposite direction, fearing to suffer even more as a tiny bite of hers could cut off his arm. Zycra deeply appreciated the efforts her prey displayed, as he was unconsciously spreading his flavor over her taste buds. Breathless and overwhelmed, Gaziv's erection reached a summit he never thought possible. He felt the succubus must have noticed, as she took a particular joy in lubriciously sliding her smooth, sleek muscle over his private parts. Being naked in her mouth, Gaziv was almost living a synesthesia, minus his sight, although some light did pierce through Zycra's teeth. It was still very close to being imperceptible. Plus the fact that he couldn't even get his balance for more than three seconds before being tossed around again. Most of the time she preferred having him lie face down flat on her tongue, pressing him hard against her palate, wetting every millimeter of his epidermis. He did manage to extend his left arm far enough to pass between her two shut lips. He heard her laugh echo all around the enclosure of her mouth. She slurped in his wriggling limb, but he was more resistant than she thought as he unexpectedly grabbed her pointy fang. She smirked and pushed him inside her cheek, forming a big lump. She almost chewed on him, but chose to tease him by letting his right leg pedaling frantically outside her mouth while he was glued to her inner wall of slick flesh. She continuously laughed and giggled in a very cheerful way, enjoying every bit of it, and firmly sucked him back inside, sealing him in total darkness. Suddenly, he felt gravity changing. He prepared for the worst as her tongue slowly tilted him back towards he throat. She moaned in satisfaction, sloshing him for a few more moments, drenching his already soaked-wet body with her sultry saliva before tossing him to the back of her throat. Gaziv tried the best he could to find a grip, anything, but all his efforts were in vain. She parted her lips once more, letting the light illuminate the entire interior of her dank and very wet oral orifice. He saw the perfect row of her glistening pearly white ivories, the red carpet that was her tongue onto which his feet were resting and, finally, her uvula, dangling right above his head. With one hand, he tried to reach it in his last desperate attempt to live, but that was the moment Zycra chose to end her little game and swallowed him, mouth open. Helpless, Gaziv was suddenly being dragged down her esophagus, towards her internal pit. Squirming with all his might, he never stopped fighting as he was overwhelmed by the strength of her peristalsis, bringing him all the way down her body. Extremely uncomfortable, unlike when he was riding on her tongue, this time he was constricted all over by the muscles that were conducting him to his last stay: her already gurgling stomach. He looked up and saw the light fading; Zycra was closing her mouth and he was traveling deeper into her body, leaving behind him a bulge descending down her neck and disappearing through her rib cage. Unable to breath, unable to move for what seemed like an eternity, Gaziv finally popped into a damp, hot-air filled lair. The wet ground had a foot high of stomach acid already pooled. The tickle he felt around his ankles made him gasp in pain and he crawled back, hitting someone whilst doing so. He felt against his back the breasts of who probably was Holena, the woman he was trapped with in the bag, who got eaten first. They exchanged a few words and, when Gaziv inquired about Ytoff Meyachev, she told him he had fallen unconscious because he was exhausted and couldn't match his breathing pattern with their new hostess. She pointed with Gaziv's arm where he was supposed to be, laying in the stomach acids, already being digested. She too was feeling very uneasy as there were very few places where there wasn't acid already, and these places were slowly diminishing minutes by minutes, the acid-level rising. As Zycra continued walking, acid sometimes splashed on them, slowly burning them bit by bit. Gaziv was trapped, with no way of escaping.

 

***

 

“You did what!? How dare you!?” the voice of the master of The Gloomy Plague echoed loudly all over his tremendous domain. “Why did you have to hit her with your spell? Oh, my poor, sweet, sweet Velmedra! For one damned human soul!”

“Yep,” Zycra licked her lips, “and it was worth it!”

Gryjiel was walking fast around his throne, in the Hall of Despair. He felt terribly sorry for the succubus he had been employing for some eternity, now. This will also give him a bad image if it were to be known. His reputation would suffer from it.

“She never complained!” added the demon. “She will remember this episode, oh yes, she will! And who will have to make her comfortable, now? Me! A bit more of this, a bit less of that! Grrr! I should cancel our deal!”

He waved his both arms alongside his body and a sudden fire erupted from all the pores of his skin, making him look much more dangerous than before. He was, after all, a loyal warlord of the satanic legions. Beside his throne, on a small shelf, stood the Jar of Silkurnis with Konta sitting just next to it, an army of dead monsters on the ground all around the wooden furniture. His face was red of bother and frustration, both his arms crossed over his chest. Zycra gave him a fake apologetic smile for forgetting about him, even though she always knew nothing would happen to him. He replied with a scornful stare.

“You can't cancel it. Not now that I've seen the Jar,” replied Zycra to Gryjiel, slowly marching towards the demon who had returned to normal.

“I am the master here! I'm the one who give commands! And I command-”

“We can talk price, now,” cut Zycra.

Gryjiel's attitude suddenly changed, as he came back to normal, only something was different in him. The demon was stroking his hands together and playing with his finger with anticipation.

“A price, yes... For a prized Jar of Silkurnis. What can a Zordford offer to Gryjiel that Gryjiel doesn't already have, I wonder?”

“It depends. I suppose Gryjiel does not need weapons?” she falsely inquired.

Gryjiel shook his head. Zycra was walking towards him.

“Nor does he need power..?”

Gryjiel shook his head again. Zycra climbed the small steps leading to his throne.

“Or another palace?”

Gryjiel was still shaking his head. Zycra crossed the few meters between them.

“Then what can a Zordford offer to the mighty, the ever-so powerful, the titanic Gryjiel the Nefarious?”

Gryjiel froze. Zycra was now touching him, nose to nose, breast to torso, tummy to belly.

“Maybe something... that can only be felt?”

Gryjiel gazed deep down the succubus' eyes. Zycra's amber iris were all of a sudden overwhelmingly alluring, and the demon's mind slowly drifted away as Zycra was emitting a strong impression of lust. She felt he was already resisting her demonic charm. Without giving him time to question what was happening, she grabbed his chin, touching his disfigured face.

“How about that?”

And she violently kissed him. Gryjiel was melting internally as he kissed her back, enjoying the fresh feeling of her youthful lips. Zycra grabbed his collar and brought him closer to her, kissing him deeper, overpowering him through his most basic instinct. She slightly parted her lips, allowing her tongue to go on explore Gryjiel's own mouth. The succubus let out lustful growls, which directly echoed in Gryjiel's head.

Unfortunately for Gryjiel, as Konta knew from experience after passing so much time with the succubus, Zycra possessed a secret weapon. She had hypnotic eyes, it was true, but these eyes had no power on a high-ranked demon like Gryjiel. She had to change her tactics, which is exactly was she was doing by kissing the demon. Zycra had the ability to suck dry the entirety of someone's magic if she were to kiss him. Draining her opponents' forces always has been easy for Zycra, due to her natural charm and exotic beauty, surpassing the majority of other succubi. A squall was circling around the two satanic beings; the succubus' long dark hair were flowing in the air, swinging in every directions because of the violent winds. Konta had to plant his sword in the wooden surface to not fall off. From his point of view, the human warrior could only see half the face of his friend, but it was enough to notice a dark green flame illuminate Zycra's iris as a great quantity of power rushed through her entire body. Her wings spread wide-open in a sudden blast, scattering the dead mutants bodies across the Hall of Despair in a single blow and extinguishing half of the torches. She had him. Gryjiel realized, too late, what was happening to him. The demon tried to break free of the succubus deadly kiss, but she held him tight against her body, emptying him, sucking his magic sources dry. At some point, Gryjiel fainted, and Zycra released him as he fell on the ground.

“That's two demons you knocked out in the same day,” Konta said sarcastically. “Planning to make some new friends after that?”

“When we get out, maybe I can present you to my mother. She'd probably love to have a moment alone with you,” she jokingly replied.

Zycra went to the Jar of Silkurnis and touched it with her left hand. She closed her eyes, thinking hard, and then Konta and her heard a small “toc” inside the Jar. She immediately plunged her hand inside it and, happy with the result, cast a spell and destroyed the object.

“What are you doing?” asked Konta. “I thought you wanted that jar!”

“I did, and now that I've used it, it's empty. Jars of Silkurnis can only be used once,” she remembered him.

“And what did you use it for?” asked Konta.

She did not answer. Instead, she opened her large demonic wings in a sudden burst of wind. She presented her hand to Konta, who, without questioning her, jumped into her palm.

“No time to explain, guards are coming. Get on my back, we're in for some quick flying.”

She brought him to her shoulder and immediately flew off. Portals started to appear in the Hall of Despair and demons emerged from them, sensing something wrong about their master. Zycra, not staying there a minute longer, flew towards the exit, making her way through the labyrinthine castle. While flying, Konta asked her in her pointy ear:

“Why don't you use a portal like them and be done with it?”

“I don't have enough privileges. I'm only a visitor, here. We need to get out of the property.”

Taking a left, then a right, and another right, Zycra was flying very fast, as if she already knew her way. After taking a left, Zycra was heading straight into a dead-end. Grabbing his friend's hair, Konta feared for the worst. The succubus spit in her hand a ball of fire and, at the last moment, threw it directly on the wall. It exploded in a cloud of smoke and debris. The instant later, Zycra was flying outside, heading straight to the gates, the only exit of the domain. A ball of frost missed her on her left and, when she looked back, she could see inferior demons casting frost spells at her. Some of them attempted to catch her by flying, but Zycra was too fast. She could hear Konta yelling insults at their incompetence and ineptitude and it made her grin.

When she arrived at the gates, she noticed the dwarf-sized imp that served as a guide when she first arrived – Gustave. Mischievously, she brutally landed on him, squashing his entire body under her foot, as a way to say goodbye to Gryjiel. Gray, dusky clouds escaped between her pretty toes and vanished in the air. She looked under her sole and, as she expected, there was no trace of blood or Gustave's corpse still glued to her arch. She hadn't killed the little demon, though, as every imp that “died” only disappeared in a small cloud of smoke before reappearing in Antarioch, the lava realm, where they were created. In her youth, Zycra had a great fun with her friends in crushing under their feet every little imp they met, before seeing them resurrect in confusion not far from there and crushing them again.

Fortunately for her, the gates were easily opened from the inside. The instant Zycra crossed the gates, she cast a portal to Felarya and, without hesitating, walked through it.

When they reappeared in the voracious never ending forest world of Felarya, Zycra sighed and laid down, resting her head in her hands. In a snap of her fingers, she got rid of her dress and allowed herself to relax. She could still feel movements in her tummy, tickling her from the inside, but her snacks had mostly become tranquil, accepting their fate. She felt Konta crawling up on her tummy, prodding her to look down upon him.

“Yes?” she asked innocently

“Don't mock me, you know exactly what I'm gonna ask,” he replied dryly.

“Then ask,” she smiled.

“What was all of that for. What did you get from that stupid Jar?”

“Oh, you still want to know? It was nothing...”

Konta jumped on her belly, causing her to laugh.

“You're impossible!”

Konta walked up her body, passed between her mountain-like breasts and went directly above her sternum.

“Show me, and we can play another round of hide and seek if you like.”

“A 2 out of 3. I'm seeker, non-negotiable!” she immediately responded, blow for blow, biting the challenge.

“As if it'll help your statistics. You're trailing far behind. Now, how about you tell me what you brought back from Hell?"

Zycra laughed, and opened her hand in a small burst of fire. There, she was holding a shiny red and silver wrapping in her left palm. A red wrapping on which black letters were written. Letters which said:

“Cho-co-late Bar. Chocolate Bar.”

Fury erupted in Konta's mind, his skin turning a shade of dark red as veins visibly strained and pulsed. The entire trip to Hell, all of the dangers that could've attacked them, the army of monsters he had to fend off... Them risking their lives, for a simple giant sized chocolate bar?

“You know how rare they are, don't you?” Zycra said in an effort to calm him.

“Oh I know, he slowly replied, reddening even more. I know a lot of things. I know that... you... are... going... to...”

Zycra couldn't help letting out a sneer.

“SUFFER!!!”

And she ran in the forest, laughing out loud while being purchased by an anger-filled Konta, his fire-sword, unsheathed, flaming high above his head.

Psychanimavorous

 

It was the boldest move of their afterlife. Stealing food from a demons party, who else could have thought this was a good idea?

Adam and Mirabella had only recently met in a minuscule cracked opening down below a wall in the cellar of tremendously large castle. While trying to find safety, they stumbled on each other and decided, from a common agreement, to share the small space and team up for a better chance at survival. They had access to limited elements of food and drinks in the cellar, but were still able to develop their tiny habitat into a more livable one, enough for both of them to at least survive many days in relative comfort.

Mirabella was well on her way to become a demonling. In Hell, there are no markers of time. You think you can still have some grasp of time, but it is an irrelevant matter in the unholy realms. For a lost soul, the path to demonlingness grew faster when a concept like time evaded its perception. Slowly, tranquilly, they were becoming a part of the infernal fauna. Demonlings did remain human-like in terms of thoughtfulness and foolishness, some kind of failed attempt to fight their demonized state by being overbearingly keen and protective of fresh new souls arriving in Hell. Such was the case of Mirabella who signified with all the warmth possible for her that Adam could share her tiny safe spot. She offered friendship and trust to a terrified and still unadapted Adam who, in his blind confusion, gratefully accepted.

They shared their story. Adam was distraught at first by Mirabella’s lonely knife-like horn that was poking out of her forehead. It had a slightly rounded end, not yet usable for defense. Her eyes, though, had turned into cold, dark yellow, a clear manifestation of her ongoing mutation. Mirabella had to explain the gruesome fate of souls in Hell, and then deviated to all the kind of things that would hurt Adam in Hell, as there was many. Hell was meant so that souls would eternally suffer, not die. Although this was true in some case, in a few other cases, souls did actually die in Hell. When this happens, the soul disintegrate and becomes floating energy, becoming a natural part of the hellish environment and contributing to its always expanding realm. But, specified Mirabella, there were cases where larger, bigger, immensely powerful and terrifying beings…

“… eat you all up! Sluurrpp, gluuck, gone!”

“What!” exclaimed a stunned Adam.

“You heard me right,” continued Mirabella. “We were lucky when we got here, it was almost too easy. But listen to me: this place reeks of… tremendously titanic evil demons and succubus! They’re not like your casual predator on whatever world you come from. These bloody beings are born to torture, that’s what they all do.”

“I mean…,”perplexedly started Adam, barely able to comprehend what was really at stake, “surely, there can’t be so many demons here. I mean-”

“This is a demon palace,” interrupted Mirabella, “not just some lowly ranked minion’s house. It’s a goddamn demon hive. There’s a demon king and queen here… and we live right underneath them!”

“As long as they stay up there, and us down here, I don’t mind. we’ve had it safe so far.” Adam scratched his head, thinking about trying to think right. Everywhere seemed to be so dangerous, everywhere except where they were.

“You didn’t let me finish. I said, they eat us all up, but that’s not all...” Mirabella let the mystery float a moment to allow Adam to envisage true horror. “They consume you. Not just like a snack or something. Well, sure, we must be tasty and all, but they… consume us. The energy we are, they eat it as well, not just the body you and I are at the moment. It’s the energy within. They eat that as well, which is probably why they’re so powerful. They’ve been eating the likes of us since… the beginning of existence.

“That’s cold.”

Mirabella used the pause in her tale to scramble up closer to Adam.

“There’s something else I didn’t tell you.”

“What, now?” Adam was growing tired of all of Mirabella’s scary stories.

“The Feast of the Dead is coming.”

“The wh-wha-”

“It’s a recurring event where all the demons and succubus forces gather with their kin and feast on a particularly large amount of soles. Kind of like a ritual, I don’t know. It’s one the greatest holidays in Hell for a lot of demonic factions. And we-” she added by poking Adam’s chest and his, “are going to rob them of their food!”

“Robbing the demons? Are you mad! That’s-that’s just too bold!”

“We face a crucial food shortage, and I’ve been thinking about it and, well...” she was thoughtful for a second and Adam jumped on the occasion.

“I don’t want to hear it! Stop it with your foolish ideas! I’ve been here for.. uh…” Adam started to count in his head, but got lost in his calculations. How long has it been, again…? “Ah, gosh! Whatever, I’ve been here for some time now and it’s been peaceful thus far! I don’t see why we should take such bold and radical actions. Surely we’ll find some more food and… carry on the way it’s supposed to be. For us. It...”

“Look around, Adam. We’re in their cellar. There’s nothing for us here, we have no tools and we’ve mostly eaten everything that was edible for us. Anyway, soon enough, this place will be crowded with succubus maids that they will gladly exterminate the rats if they find them. We need to make a move, or we’ll be too weak to undertake anything. We’ll just dry, here.”

Adam had a hand on his chest. Everything he could hear coming out of Mirabella’s mouth was danger, danger, danger, and he felt afflicted by his condition, his miserable and pathetic condition, doomed to suffer. “For a long, long time,” he thought as images of his past re-emerged in his mind. All could have been different, everything would have worked out eventually but no, there he was now. In Hell. Because of his stupid decisions. He remembered how the judge who sent him to an eternity of suffering wondered about his case for some seconds, as if maybe didn’t belong in Hell, after all. Then he was sent in Hell. It made him wonder since he arrived in the Unholy Lands that maybe he was innocent, maybe some angel would come and save him. It was mere vain hope, as it has been weeks now that he was slowly burning in a lava realm before finally arriving at some big castle. He hadn’t really faced mortal danger since the beginning of his calvary. He just kept walking while slowly, slowly burning. The weight of survival had been slightly brushed away when Adam met Mirabella, but fun time was over, now.

“What do you suggest?” Adam asked, still unsure.

“We need food, first and foremost. I didn’t tell you these demons stories for fun: the risk will be ten times greater, but for a ten times better loot. I’ve explored this place a bit before coming down here and I know where they receive their special deliveries – main course, dessert and such. Actually, it’s how I made it here, but that’s a story for another time. We get in there and grab as much as we can from the deliveries they received last, so it’ll give us some more time to act before they’re processed. Then we’ll have to make our way outside and find a new home or wait out the feast and-”

“Wait out the feast,” immediately said Adam, who really didn’t want to lose his safe spot.

“Alright then, we’ll find a place to hide and go back down after the party. Oh, another thing: we can’t save anyone else. Lots of horrible things happen during these events and there’s absolutely nothing we can do.”

Mirabella prepped for a nap and before slipping in another round of nightmares, she added: “No one can be saved in Hell.”

**

Mirabella and Adam slipped through a tiny gap in a wooden door, and now they were out of the cellar.

Their perilous adventure started with the darkest of symbolism : a giant-sized half-naked maid, who was carrying a plateau, stealthily grabbed a squirming human coated in a strange mixture and quickly tossed him in her mouth, savoring the succulent creature as she passed by a stunned tiny duo she never noticed.

Adam was too shocked to move, while Mirabella, more used to the cruelty of Hell, tried to encourage her partner. The move had been too casual for Adam not to feel the urge to vomit, but it just wouldn’t come out. He was disgusted, felt horrible and wished so hard he could change anything in his past life just so he wouldn’t end up in this awful place. He came back to himself when the ground around him began to shake again, and Mirabella urged Adam to follow her.

They ran as fast as they could to the other side of the corridor and hid behind a large pillar. Mirabella explained that they would have to make their way to the first floor of the castle, where they would then have to find a path through the kitchen to the special delivery room. They only had to reach the far end of the hundreds of boxed and, with a bit of luck, they will pass unnoticed.

“We just need to be careful of-”

Mirabella’s senses twitched. Did she just hear wings flapping? A pair of powerful wings… could it be… An ear-piercing growl ended her thought process and she immediately grabbed Adam by the collar, bringing him in a desperate run. Adam bombarded her with questions and all she could say was:

“A fucking dragon!”

They heard a soul screaming for help, possibly being chased by the dragon, but they certainly would not wait around to see if they could lend a hand. Mirabella had been very clear about that. They reached a staircase but Mirabella proposed they hide behind it instead, and wait for the right moment. The instant Adam joined Mirabella’s position, the door opened and a maid came down the stairs with empty boxes. She made her way to the cellar door, opened it and entered, disappearing from their view.

Then they saw the screaming soul, a young man, looking barely twenty years old, frantically running for his life. He was far away from them in the corridor, but they all too clearly saw what happened. Before the poor young man could even reach the cellar door, a flying red dragon turned around the corner and growled again at its prey, who had been a good sport thus far. The dragon managed to spit a ball of fire right in front of the running soul, cutting short his futile attempts at escape. The young man turned and surprisingly drew a human sword, courageously facing the threat before him. The dragon loudly landed on the ground, which slightly unbalanced him and-

Adam and Mirabella’s eyes widened as the dragon critically stroke the poor soul with a single swing of its long and powerful tail, sending him straight to the brick wall where he brutally landed, then fell on the floor. Badly injured, he couldn’t even crawl away from the dragon, who now knew it had won. The young man moaned in a painful manner, loudly hissing because of his injuries. Despite his efforts he was most certainly doomed. The huge dragon lowered its head to the ground behind its immobile fleshy meal and skillfully placed its tongue under the man’s body. The dragon was so big and its mouth was so wide that the soul’s entire body fit in the winged reptile’s maw. The immense beast then jolted its head back up, completely engulfing the young man in its mouth and muffling forever his last, desperate cries for help. It’s at that moment that the maid came out of the cellar with her hands full of what looked like wine bottles. She noticed the burned carpet and quibbled at the dragon.

“You bad, bad boy! You know the rules: no dragonfire on the carpets of Master Zorengorion’s palace, especially not during the Feast of the Dead! Go away, now!”

She feinted to kick at the dragon who, anyway, was already planning on enjoying the prey it had just caught somewhere else, untroubled.

The maid walked towards the stairs and Mirabella told Adam that this was the right time. They waited for the maid to put her foot on the first step, and then they hurried along behind her. There were only a few steps, but for each of them, they had to stop, help one up and then help up the one left down, run to the next step and repeat the process. The maid opened the door and went out of their view while they were three big steps away. Fortunately for them, the door was heavy and slow to close, but they really had to hurry up. They doubled their efforts and did actually succeed to cross the door before it closed behind them. They were on the first floor, now.

“Who was that guy?” murmured Adam at Mirabella.

“Some food that miraculously escaped. Or just another lost soul like you. You stumble on them from time to time. It’s likely we’ll see more of them.” Mirabella then thought for a moment and added: “Listen, ehm, I didn’t know where we were until now, and I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is the Zhordfhor’s palace. They’re highly ranked demons, like, top archdemons. They’re extremely dangerous killing machines, in fact, and I suspect their guests are just as dangerous so… be extra careful. They’re complete maniacs and the dragon you saw...” Adam nodded in approval. “It was just a pet. A lizard eating a fly. The Zhordfhors are the real fucking dragons.” And today, dragons were having a meaty feast.

The hall was far away from them, and it was good news since it meant less chance to meet bloodthirsty demons who were then escorted to the second floor, where the real feast was being given. Still, they had to be very careful of the maids, as they were in constant movement, serving their masters and their numerous guests, doing the impossible: satisfying demon lords.

Another episode of infernal violence happened before they entered the kitchen. A soul, an older man, was simply walking the corridors, disoriented, confused. He had a cane and had difficulty to even make one step forward. Mirabella had told Adam that they must have released him because he wouldn’t taste good anyway, old and decrepit he was. Adam was curiously watching this strange individual when he had to hold a scream: the old man had just been stepped on by a rushing and unaware maid. It happened so suddenly, Adam nearly laughed absurdly. The image now imprinted in his head was just too weird. He felt even more weird when he found there was no body at the place of impact, only a broken cane, which meant, Adam concluded, that the impact had been so violent that the old man was now stuck under a running succubus maid who didn’t even flinch after having stepped on yet another poor soul. Adam needed a moment to come back to his senses. Mirabella didn’t have the heart to tell him that any soul would easily survive this kind of treatment and that the old man was actually very well alive, only just stuck underneath a sweaty maid sole, each step strongly damaging his soul-body but certainly not killing him.

“You die a long time, in Hell,” murmured Mirabella for herself.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Get up, now. We’re almost there. It’ll be over soon.”

When they reached the kitchen, Adam nearly collapsed. It was a gruesome festival of screams and pleas for help and mercy. So many souls were being prepped for the self-serve buffet given just one floor above, it was hard not to feel pity for them. Mirabella guided Adam behind the counters and they navigated their way between junk and rubbish.

At some point, a handcuffed soul managed to slip between the fingers of a succubus cook and landed hardly on the ground. He noticed Mirabella and Adam and they exchanged a look. The soul got up with difficulty and managed to dodge a scooping hand. He attempted to run at the pair of lucky survivors, but was abruptly stopped by an unseen force. His eyes widened, first in incomprehension but then in fear. Mirabella knew what was going on and pulled Adam with her, promptly walking away. A silver succubus was dragging the unfortunate escapee back towards the cooking table. The poor fool should have waited they take off his handcuffs, thought Mirabella, but then again it would have been too late for him. From the beginning, he had already lost and now he was going to be feasted on.

“Hurry up, will you?” she said to Adam in a reproachful manner.

They continued their little journey under the numerous counters when, finally, they arrived at the special delivery room.

Mirabella wasn’t lying: there were literally hundreds of boxes all piled up on one another. There were so many, in fact, that it went all the way up to the ceiling.

“Are we really going to climb up there?” asked Adam, slightly stressed.

“Of course not. Just two or three and then we make our way deeper; open up boxes until we’re satisfied.”

Just like they did in the staircase leading to the first floor, they had to help each other up and they climbed three large boxes before making their way amid the immense stack of packed food. They eventually randomly settled on one box and Mirabella made a small hole with her knife, enough for both of them to get in easily.

Adam didn’t quite see what kind of food was lying before him, as he was plunged in darkness. It is only when Mirabella lit a small lighter that he let out a sound of surprise, shocked.

“What is it?” asked Mirabella, putting a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“It’s… it’s...”

Adam cocked his head, confused and shaken.

“What?” pressed Mirabella.

“It’s a…” it took Adam another moment to finally say the words, “a chocolate cake.”

“A what?” asked Mirabella who noticed she’s been saying what three times now.

“A chocolate cake. Ehm… it’s a kind of food people eat on Earth.” Adam saw that Mirabella’s curiosity was still unsatisfied. “Earth is the planet I come from. We have a recipe where we mix up many elements together like flour, sugar, eggs, milk and the result is called a cake. Only this one has chocolate in it. It’s, huh, another edible thing that grows on Earth. Actually comes from a plant named-”

“Is it any good?” asked Mirabella who gave the lighter to Adam and passed her hand over the creamy icing.

“It’s one of Earth’s most famed dish,” Adam heard himself answer.

Adam’s words, although quite innocent, just reflected how much humankind knew nothing of the universe as it is quite well known that chocolate is the tastiest, sweetest, most praised delicacy of all worlds… and our pair of fortuitous adventurers has just, purely by luck, found a box containing an enormous cake that was full of it. Of all the boxes they could have stumbled upon, it had to be the one containing a bloody chocolate cake.

“That’s quite funny,” said Adam as he too passed his hand over the icing and cautiously licked the brownish frosting. There wasn’t any doubts now: it couldn’t be anything else than a gigantic chocolate cake. “How strange… I never thought...”

“This,” said Mirabella with cake icing all over her mouth and hands, “is the tastiest thing I’ve ever tasted in all my existence! Mmh, what the… it’s so… MMH!!! Heaven in Hell!” Mirabella continued to stuff herself with the cake while Adam couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Then Adam froze. He couldn’t quite hear it at first, but a loud, authoritarian voice slowly made its way to his ears. It was really a powerful voice, impossible to not listen to it.

“...on’t worry, Lady Zhykharah , I know exactly where I kept it.”

“Stop it with the ladies, Ursula!” replied a younger and much feminine voice. “Just Zycra. How can you know where my special delivery is, exactly? There’s always a ton of special deliveries!”

“We gotta get out, now!” whispered Adam. “Where are you, Mirabella? We need to go!”

There was no response. This was strange, but there was no time to lose. He began to run around the cake, hoping to find his companion, only he found no one. Did she abandon him? No, she couldn’t have. She was probably waiting for him outside. He nodded to himself, turned around and began to run for the small hole they carved up themselves… then fell and lost the lighter in the cake’s icing.

“Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

Without the lighter, he could not find the entry so easily, as he was now once again plunged in total darkness.

“Mirabella, where are you? I can’t find you!”

Adam could not hear any answer as he heard once again the loud and authoritarian voice talk to its interlocutor:

“Right around the corner, Lady Zhykharah. I’ve been responsible for this kitchen for over four thousand cycles, long before you were born. I know exactly where everything is, from the largest piece of meat to the smallest dust of spices! Here, let me show you.”

A crumpling sound came to Adam’s ears as boxes were being moved around. Surely their box wasn’t the one they were looking for. No, it couldn’t. He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe it-

“Agh!” he exclaimed as the box he was in was lifted up. Too high, way too high… “Oh no, it can’t be...”

Light finally filled the box when the hole they made faced the lit up kitchen.

“There you go, Lady Zhykharah. As you requested. It was very difficult to find, you’re quite lucky to have it all for yourself. Hope you enjoy it. Here, take it. And merry Feast of the Dead!”

The box was once again shaken as the precious package was given to a new pair of hands and…

“Wait, what’s that?” whispered Adam to himself as he saw golden tanned flesh with a navel in the middle moving closer to the hole they made. “That’s a… belly button?” And where the Hell was Mirabella? Shouldn’t she- “Woah!” he exclaimed as skin entirely covered the only source of light, plunging Adam, once again, in total darkness. “Mirabella, where are you, for the sake of G-” A loud, boisterous gurgle echoed all around the box, echoed inside Adam’s head, a long and deep and famished one. Adam got closer to the source of all that noise as it slowly toned down. “That was loud.” Lady Zhykharah, or Zycra, whomever she may be, had put the box right over her stomach. Obviously, she was digesting something.

Adam could now clearly hear but could not see Mirabella frantically eating as much cake as she could, but something else got the attention of his hearing. It sounded like cries… He slightly brushed his cheek against Zycra’s soft, warm skin and gently put his ear over her belly. He couldn’t believe what he heard: calls for help, screams of despair, pleas of mercy, cries of hopelessness. There were people inside that stomach! Real people that were about to be processed, consumed like some mana nutrients. There was another gurgle, a wetter one that trembled over his ear and he backed away in horror. His feet got mixed up and he fell into the cake, coating his entire back of delicious icing.

“Gah! And now, this!” He got up and was about to call out for Mirabella again, who he still could hear eating the cake like their life wasn’t in danger, when the box suddenly landed on a hard surface. Adam lost his footing once more and landed back exactly where he fell few moments before, coating himself in even more delicious icing. Light did come in the box again through their carved hole, but it was little too late for them as the top of the box was suddenly ripped off.

Light poured in the box, illuminating its content. What Adam saw almost paralyzed him: a beautiful, naked woman with soft chestnut skin was looking down at the cake, eyes closed, savoring its subtle perfume before admiring it with her open eyes. Her forehead was decorated with two small pairs of devilish horns while her long ebony hair flowed behind her along her back, tied in a ponytail. It gave Adam a moment to probe the room they were in. It was a really big room, with big windows and a big bed. They were lying on a desk and behind them was an opened window. The door was at the opposite side of the room, closed. Adam concluded they were in Zycra’s room, Zycra, who’s immense face towered above Adam. He felt she was about to open her eyes.

Adam’s only reflex was to throw himself back in the cake’s icing, his coated back facing up. This little instinctive action did save him for now as Zycra didn’t seem to notice Adam, but instantly got sight of Mirabella, who wasn’t really hard to miss.

“Mmmmh, I can’t wait to… Huh?” There was a pause. An awkwardly long one.

Mirabella, who was sitting down legs crossed atop the middle of the cake, had her back turned to the succubus so she just moved her chin up and her eyes met with Zycra’s astonished ones. Mirabella’s entire face was covered in chocolate, just like her torso, arms and legs. She put up a ridiculous smile while Zycra, slowly, sensed anger getting the best of her.

“Y-y-you… you… you...” the succubus stuttered. No one, not one soul, has ever been so bold as to ungracefully desecrate the holiest of dishes, and this, right before her eyes!

Adam was stunned by Mirabella’s behavior. He wouldn’t dare move a finger in his precarious situation, but couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Mirabella, exactly? A minute she was brave and smart, the next one she was overtly daring, taking huge risks and foolishly putting her life in danger. All because of the chocolate she ate? Could chocolate be that good that it drove people from other worlds insane?

Mirabella came back to her senses when her survival instinct got the better of her gluttony. Chocolate’s taste, she found, was so mesmerizing. She was in some sort of trance, voluptuously eating the most succulent dish in the universe, all multiverses combined. “Time to go, now!” She got up and Mirabella made a spectacular run for the slightly opened window that was just in her reach. Zycra was taken aback for a tenth of a second before launching her opened palm in Mirabella’s direction. The half-demonling made a prodigious back flip in the air, barely escaping the succubus’s grip. The latter, on the other end, was so sure she would catch this impetuous sinful soul that she miscalculated her move and knocked her head on the wooden desk.

“Ow! Why you…!” She scrubbed her head, slightly hurt. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that the foolhardy soul already made its way to the window and was going to jump. “Oh no, you’re not getting away from this one, little morsel!”

Mirabella saw her reflection in the window, and also saw that the succubus was making a desperate last attempt at catching her. She smirked as she was already« out of her hand’s reach. She would probably get seriously injured from the fall, but at least she would not die and become some random bratty succubus’ pre-dessert. Mirabella had been a few seconds in free fall when the strangest of things happened to her.

“What the-?”

A wet, slimy, rose tentacle had enrolled itself up all around her waist, cutting short her ultimate attempt at escaping. Mirabella put her hands on the fleshy pink tentacle, trying to dislodge herself, but she was rewarded with rocking motions from left to right, making her feel quite dizzy. More and more liquid dribbled on her as few droplets detached from her body and fell in the void beneath her. She was slippery, but the tentacle was firmly holding her. Mirabella dared to look behind her and couldn’t believe that the succubus had caught her with… her tongue!? She knew fire succubi had longer tongues but this was ridiculous, she had never seen anything like it before. Mirabella got trapped by a long, very long tentacle-like tongue. The succubus victoriously smirked at her. Both her hands were pressed on either side of the window, her head well outside the window, looking down right at her. She rocked her again, giggling in the process and brought her back in Zycra’s private room.

The succubus did not immediately gobble up this infuriating half-demonling. Instead, she let her dangle from her tongue a bit, savoring Mirabella’s exquisite taste.

“My, my, you’re a delicious one, do you know that?” admitted the succubus to her treat. “I gotta say, coating yourself in chocolate is not a bad thing at all, in the end. There’s this… and then there’s your soul taste. Mmmmmh. How did you survive so long, my yummy chocolate-girl?”

Mirabella had a tough time to answer (what could she answer, anyway?) as Zycra threw herself onto her bed, holding tight the little demonling soul with her tongue right above her eyes - her tempting, penetrating amber eyes.

“Don’t mind me, you just taste sooo good,” said the succubus with a seductive voice. “Let me just...” she began, letting her tongue finish the sentence for her. The humid and fleshy muscle enrolled itself even more around Mirabella’s body, tightening its grip over her even more. In a single move, Zycra’s tongue trapped her prey’s legs together while the tip of her tongue tickled Mirabella’s neck and face before entirely covering her head. Mirabella couldn’t see a thing, but she damn well felt and heard what was being done to her. More saliva drooled all over her and she had no choice but to swallow many gulps of the sticky fluid if she did not want to drown. Then she was tediously sucked on as the tongue’s grip around her tightened even more, making it hard for Mirabella to breathe, even from her nose.

“Mmmmmhhh, chocolate-coated delicious souls… I should have thought about it waaay before.”

Mirabella, indeed, felt that the cake icing and crumbs were sliding across her body, sucked away by the succubus’ vigorous and lively tongue. Mirabella even felt her hair being pulled because of how strong the sucking motion was. She did not even realize, at first, that her clothes had also been sucked away and that she was being mummified, alive and naked, by a giant succubus’ tongue, heiress to her father’s throne and titles.

Mirabella was eventually released from her calvary and she landed on the succubus’ tummy, coughing hard and trying to spit the huge amounts of saliva she unwillingly swallowed. Only then did Mirabella notice her own nudity, but the second after, soft and slender fingers grabbed her by the waist and she was carried with the walking succubus.

“I’m not exactly done with you yet. You’re so tasty, I figured a second round would be marvelous for both of us!” Joyful, the succubus walked to the counter where she left the chocolate cake. Adam was still hiding in his rudimentary camouflage – he couldn’t find the courage to jump from the window like his companion tried. Mirabella, well aware of her precarious situation, guessed Zycra’s intentions and tried to break free, to no avail. The caramel skinned succubus brought the cake with her back to her bed and deposited it on the blankets covering her bed.

“Don’t worry, my little choco-girl,” soothingly said the succubus as she was slowly lowering Mirabella towards the cake, “I will savor you at your true value. There, there,” she said as she immersed Mirabella’s body in a still untouched part of the cake. She moved the little body around, holding her prey only by the ankles. Moments later, Zycra slowly removed Mirabella’s body from the cake. The succubus’ eyes lit with passionate hunger as she contemplated the tiny chocolate cake coated soul. Mirabella was fluffy of creamy icing and the succubus rejoiced at her recent discovery. If only she had an unlimited amount of chocolate, she would eat this improvised plate for the rest of her demonic existence. The amber-eyed succubus extended her arm to the fullest, holding Mirabella by the ankles right above her face. The winged and evil intentioned succubus smirked once more as she laid down on her bed for a more comfortable position, only this time her lips curved in a much scarier manner. She slowly opened her mouth, slightly revealing its deep confines to Mirabella. The succubus then ever so slowly stuck out her elastic tongue and stretched it in front of her prey’s disconcerted eyes, guiding it straight at Mirabella’s discovered legs. As the succubus was licking every inch of the front of Mirabella’s naked body, the demonic woman’s tongue did linger on and around the soul’s unveiled crotch. Zycra, surely she must have known, was also giving a surprised Mirabella sexual pleasure like nothing she had experienced before.

“Gnnh, n-no! S-stop it! Stop it, please! Plea-blellblelluah!”

The succubus’ tongue lasciviously caressed her face, interrupting her plea for mercy and instead filling her mouth with saliva again. The half-demonling coughed heavily and started to feel ill, her head pointing down not helping her one bit. As for the succubus, she was beyond ecstasy. Not only Mirabella’s soul was of the tastiest kind, she was also blended with the tastiest dish of them all. Zycra was enjoying every succubus’ dream, and it was up to her to enjoy it to the fullest extent. The smutty, evil-minded demoness thoroughly licked Mirabella’s body up and down before hotly blowing on her, almost immediately drying her. Zycra continued blowing on the half-demonling, and soon she began to sweat from all the pores of her epidermis while her back was still covered in chocolate and cake’s icing that slowly melted on her head and arms.

“There you go, all tasty again, with a renewed taste. Let’s see how salt and sugar can mix well,” said the chaotic and unpredictable Zycra while looking directly in Mirabella’s eyes. Her eyes were so seductive, so promising, Mirabella started to wonder if something somewhere inside her head was enjoying the preferential treatment Zycra was giving her. Where was Adam, by the way? She was brought back to other concerns when the sensuous tongue of the succubus voluptuously licked her face again, only this time the lively muscle pressed harder against her, like it wanted some kind of deeper, truer taste.

Mirabella’s visual field, when it was not obstructed by a myriad of taste buds working up her flavor, was constantly drawn back to the depths of Zycra’s gold and amber eyes, now sensuously half-closed as she was clearly enjoying her apparently unique taste. Something odd was at play, noticed Mirabella, because she was more and more enjoying Zycra’s care and had to vehemently brush off wrong ideas like demanding that the succubus play with her for the hours to come. This was nonsense, she was obviously being psychologically manipulated… and yet the succubus’ mysterious and profoundly captivating gaze overflowed with delectable promises. Mirabella couldn’t look away now; Zycra’s eyes paralyzed her, she was incapable of resisting.

As if the succubus had knowledge of Mirabella’s interior combat, the overwhelmingly powerful being continuously bombarded its prey with powerful waves of lust and desire. These waves had totally crushed the soul’s weaker mental defenses. All of the sudden, Mirabella was also ecstatic about being played with by Zycra as she started to move against the tongue, appreciating the humid and wet contact contact of the soft muscle. Zycra welcomed the new affectionate gestures by being even more engaged in the activity. Her ever-working tongue became more insistent, more vigorous, all the merrier for the completely overpowered Mirabella who now demanded nothing more than to be licked more scrupulously, with meticulous care. Her prayers were answered.

Without warning, Zycra let go of Mirabella’s body who let out a yelp of surprise. She never touched the ground as Zycra carefully wrapped her tongue over her legs and her belly – she was far from being done with her. The libidinous succubus slowly, very slowly, began to fully wrap Mirabella’s body with her snake-like tongue at tortoise speed. Zycra, in slow motion, gradually covered every inch of her prey’s bare skin, and there was nothing she could do about it, especially now that both her arms were now unable to move. While conscientiously wrapping up her prey alive with her tongue, Zycra also made sure to fully compress Mirabella in her grasp, tightening her hold around the delicious soul. Saliva splurted all over Mirabella’s body while the sucking noise were becoming louder and louder, driving Mirabella mad with lust and repressed survival instincts, which doubled her pleasure that was already beyond the limits of the over-excessive. The wet, thick tentacle made its way up in her back and then turned around her right shoulder. She shivered with excitement when the tip the tongue, briar rose and shining with sticky, warm saliva, tenderly rubbed her cheeks, nose and forehead before covering both her ears. Swaddled from head to toe, Mirabella could very distinctly hear the ongoing squelching sounds and the splattering noises that practically rubbed against her eardrums. She was almost left in darkness when the succubus’ soggy tongue decided to fully wrap up up by tilting the mushy muscle over Mirabella’s head, covering her up to the fullest, already being consumed to the last bit. The saliva noises grew louder as all the chocolate and icing that melt on her naked body were sucked away, accompanied by a feminine moan of pure enjoyment and satisfaction, which she would gladly have accompanied if it wasn’t so hard to breathe in her position.

Zycra mumbled something that Mirabella couldn’t quite get. It sounded like “Get in here, now”, but she was uncertain. She felt the tongue constrict even more around her body, emptying her lungs of much needed oxygen. She then sensed the tongue was somehow moving around, slightly swaying from left to right. There was a long ssssllllrrruuuuurrsssllll noise, then a sudden change in gravity led Mirabella to understand that Zycra was slurping her tongue back in her mouth, with herself in the role of the tasty candy. She knew she entered the succubus’ mouth when it became darker around her. The red and rose colored tongue had suddenly turned into a much darker tone. The vice that was restraining her suddenly lost its pressure as Zycra’s tongue loosened Mirabella in a disturbing but arousing ssshpptttssptshpsttshh noise and then went back to its normal state. She became aghast when the brutal fact knocked out her mind: she was in the mouth of an astonishingly beautiful succubus!

Mirabella’s hand was resting on Zycra’s lower lip. She gripped at the soft and inviting flesh and forcefully pulled herself out, easily sliding across the moist surface. She looked down, impressed by the view when the pair of lips clamped themselves at the level of her neck. This new layout, where Mirabella’s head was amusingly popping out of the succubus’ mouth, was accompanied by a soft laughter that vibrated all throughout the half-demonling’s body. The evil predator sensuously pursed her lips around her prey, putting much pressure on the tiny soul. Inside the gigantic mouth, Zycra’s next victim was having her legs thoroughly licked. She winced with the strangest of pleasures when her crotch was being played with.

Zycra held Mirabella in this position for a while before deciding she wanted to feast on the entirety of her meal. In a wet schfwlop, Mirabella was sucked in the bronze skinned succubus’ cavernous maw. She was now fully inside her hostess, her whole body laying across an incessantly squirming slimy muscle and plunged in partially complete darkness. Some light did pierce through the demoness’ teeth, but it was not enough to help her see more clearly. The succubus was still assaulting her mind with waves of immeasurable pleasure. Zycra’s tongue laid warfare against the tiny body inside her as well as brutally splattering Mirabella against the roof of her mouth. Mirabella found herself utterly sandwiched between two layers of flesh: her back heavily pressed against the solid but still soft palate while her belly was being forcefully pushed up by the thick, spongy tongue where an army of taste buds was scrupulously caressing and scrubbing every centimeters of her uncovered body, to the most intimate parts of her anatomy. A strong and loud “Mmmmmmmmhhhhh” resonated in the moist, tropical oral cavity was being passionately sucked on. She was momentarily relieved of the pressure, only to be violently pushed back up again. Mirabella’s whole body could easily fit in Zycra’s mouth, and the lustful demonic creature abundantly enjoyed her one-sided, undisputed advantage. Zycra was applying so much pressure on Mirabella that the poor victim thought her body could be imprinted on the predator’s tongue. There was another laugh that echoed all around and through her, then she was talked to by the giantess while losing her bearings and being thrown around at every single syllable.

“My, my, aren’t you just… finger-licking good.” This ascertainment was accompanied by a large smile that allowed light to illuminate Zycra’s gaping maw. Strings of saliva stretched from the predator’s palate to the prey’s body, thin filaments that shone in contact of light. Mirabella contemplated the pointy canines of her female captor before loosing her balance again as the succubus kept on talking: “I think it’s time you become a part of me, now. Oops!” While Zycra talked, Mirabella’s extremely slippy body slid through her opened lips. She would have fell off from very high altitude if the succubus had not gently imprisoned her slick body between her teeth, around the waist, keeping her there for a moment. For Mirabella, it was like coming out of a shower without a towel: cold. The slightest wind breeze sent shiver down her spine and she wanted to go back to the warmness of the eternally young woman’s sensual mouth. It didn’t take another moment for Zycra to use her tongue’s unique abilities, stretching it all along Mirabella’s body until her head rested against the rosy tip of the spongy muscle. Then the tongue quickly dragged her back in. On her way back inside the moist and warm orifice, she felt the upper lip of the succubus linger over her breast and her face, a thoughtful gesture she appreciated, and then she was plunged in darkness once again. A lot of saliva had accumulated in Zycra’s mouth, bathing Mirabella in sticky liquid. She was wholly sloshed around the oral confines of the diabolical Zycra before Satan’s henchwoman sandwiched her prey between her mouth and her palate, just to knock her out a bit. Then there was a shift in gravity, and Mirabella felt she was sliding further down instead of further out. Her face and torso and belly slid smoothly against the soft muscle and she instinctively snuggled the fleshy, humid surface, completely oblivious to the fact that deep inside her unconscious, her survival instinct desperately attempted to make Mirabella grab at something in order to live. The half-demonling, unfortunately for her, felt comforted to slide feet first towards the dark throat, akin to a very dark and deep well. She didn’t even react when something strongly gripped her by the ankles and pulled her down the next second. While being dragged more deeply into Zycra’s body, she heard another sound echo all around her: a deafening, profoundly satisfied GLLLUULLLLLBB.

**

Adam didn’t dare move a single finger. He was petrified with fear. The first and only friend he had in Hell had completely lost her mind over a chocolate cake and was now literally being eaten alive. He could all too well hear the sloshing sounds, the ecstatic sighs and the lusty remarks. He then heard the succubus say: “I think it’s time you become a part of me, now.” He knew this was the moment. He carefully crawled a few inches away from the cake and proceeded to undress himself, seeing how Zycra also adored chocolate and how much he was coated of creamy, delicious icing. He removed his clothes and shook away the crumbles that stuck to his hair. He dared to look at the succubus who, fortunately for him, had her eyes closed with pleasure, savoring her meal to the fullest. This was his chance to escape. He ran to the edge of the bed and felt like it was the luckiest day of his life: the blanket divided itself when near the edge in a series of strings that lead directly to the floor. Adam wasted no seconds and attempted to climb down the fastest he could. He was so excited, he felt he could actually make it and-

Midway in his perilous descent, the fatality of destiny decided to catch up with Adam as his hands slipped from the fabric and he fell down. He didn’t find the strength to scream, but when he brutally landed on the floor, he had to put a hand over his mouth so as not to alert the carnivorous succubus. The fall broke his leg and severely injured the other. He was lucky nothing more was damaged and was at least still alive. There was no way he could make it to the door now, but maybe he could hide under the bed of the infernal princess?

GLLLUULLLLLBB.

Adam shivered in fear. There was no doubt of what just happened. Still, he could barely believe the stream of thought that penetrated his mind: Mirabella had just been swallowed alive. Eaten. Gone, forever.

Zycra sighed in delight: “Aaah! Now that was tas-ty!” She put her legs on the edge of the bed, right above Adam who, stunned and surprised, didn’t immediately move. She wouldn’t… Could he be…? Would she really…? On him…? “I hope Ferdinand is not around...!” she said. Who could be Ferdinand, Adam asked himself? The young man never had the time to elucidate the case.

A huge shadow engulfed Adam. He instinctively closed his eyes and prepared for the worst. Zycra jumped out of bed, her heel landing only a few (human) meters away from him, which was really close. The ground around him trembled like an earthquake and he fell on his side, wincing in pain because of his damaged leg. He sighed: that was close. He looked at the succubus making her way to the door and she locked it. She looked back at her queen sized bed: “How about that tasty cake, now?”

She quickly walked back to her bed. Adam’s eyes widened when he saw her gigantic mass walking back towards him at high speed. “N-no,” he barely managed to mumble, as she reached him in a matter of seconds. This time, there was nothing he could do. Petrified, he simply looked up. Time froze. Zycra’s gigantic feet had risen up above him and initiated a descent right upon him. Once again engulfed in the shadow of her foot, this time for good, Adam could do nothing but contemplate what was about to trample the life out of him.

Her feet weren’t small or plump. They were slim, slim and slender, in the image of Zycra’s body shape who was long and lithe, gracefully sculpted. Slenderness defined the succubus’ attractive silhouette, from her youthful facial features to the tip of her toes. From his privileged point of view, Adam fearfully admired the details of the underfoot that was about to flatten him. Her right foot, the designated one to trample him, gloriously dominated him because of how much such a simple gesture for her was mortally significant for him. The whole of her footskin was decorated in harmonious shapes of light brown and creamy beige. Being so close to her sole, Adam could very well see the complex networks of veins that spread throughout her foot, similar to the branches of a tree, easily distinguishable because of their delicate bluish tone. The inside part of her arch mixed between a range of soft light beige and milky white. The chromatic field of the lateral part of her arch, however, was tinted in a different tone. The elegant contour of her caramel foot, an elongated line that followed a slightly curved angle and spanned over almost a dozen of meters, was made of a more pronounced but still pale brown because of its heavier contact with the ground. Such was the same for the striking ball of her gigantic foot, where a lot of nerves converged and met, crowned by five slender toes. He could clearly notice the distinct sole lines, similar to those in the palm of the hand, that ran through the scarcely wrinkly cambered surface and met in the middle of it, between the outer ball and the inner ball of the young woman’s foot. Atop of it all reigned five lengthy toes that were perfectly diagonally aligned, from bigger to smaller, the tip of each one just as round as a balloon. The quintet of phalanges slightly wriggled as the enormous mass of skin was about to settle down.

Darkness engulfed Adam as he laid on his back, instinctively trying to protect himself by putting his arms up. Then, a mighty mountain of soft flesh struck him down. Pfpmmhpppfhmmhmfffff! An incalculable amount of tons and tons crushed, this instant, the poor and unfortunate Adam who barely managed to even succeed at the first step of a complicated escape scheme. All his bones were shattered, an explosion of blood splattered all around the spot where he had been mercilessly and, probably the worst, unknowingly trampled to death. It went pitch black and Adam immediately lost consciousness, thinking it was at least fortunate for him to have a quick and instant death.

At least, that’s what he thought.

It felt strange, for a moment. Death. At first, nothing really happened. It was peacefully quiet. And yet… why was it still so painful? Who in the world could survive that kind of brutal impact? Then Adam had a moment of terrible lucidity. He should’ve paid more attention. That old man with a cane he saw earlier who was also stepped on and what Mirabella murmured to herself right after that incident. Suddenly, it was crystal clear: “You die a long time, in Hell”. He was still alive! But how was it possible, he couldn't even breathe! Light pierced through his closed eyelids, and it took him a moment to dare open them again. He got the proof he was still alive when he recognized the ceiling up above. What took him a moment to realize, though, was what exactly surrounded him. Two immense mass of flesh… that tenderly wriggled. “Oh no...” He moved his head down to look at his body and now the horror began. There was no blood. There was only skin. Footskin. No lower body, no upper body, except his arms and his head. The instant gesture of putting both his hands up at least saved his arms. But what was weirder is that Adam could perfectly feel his body, only it was through constant pain. Adam flailed his arms around, unable to move, his body trapped underneath a softer part of the ball of her foot and his head barely peeking between her second and third toe. He urgently needed air, now.

“Better be good,” said Zycra as she took the box within her hands and walked back to her desk to further enjoy the tastiest food of all.

No screaming came from Adam as we has carried away. His body was stuck under the succubus’ sole. It felt like a roller coaster, only on a whole new level: the sudden blast of wind that forbids you to inhale or exhale, the vertigo that grips your intestines because it’s too much to bear, the hope that it’ll end soon before it’s too late. It happened so fast and then Zycra concluded her motion by stepping on the floor, trampling Adam for the second time. No sound came of his mouth. Only a faint, flimsy squeal. He managed to put his arms on the foot and slightly pushed his body out of its precarious situation. It allowed him to breathe, finally, and he instinctively inhaled as much air as he could… then he coughed and gasped. The stench! Practically unbearable. “Gaah! Ghhuuhh! Guhh kof-kof, ghuuuh,” his breathing pattern had great difficulty to keep up, especially if he was going to whiff more of the strong, seemingly earthly-vinegary smell. They were a bit dirty, but certainly sweatier. This was bad, he needed to get out of there quick before-

“What the-”

Preparing for another step, Zycra slightly clenched her toes together, inadvertently trapping Adam’s head and pushing his face deeper between her toes. “Ggggnnnhhh!” More of the foot smell impregnated his nostrils as it was the only breathable air available. He was carried away again with her right foot and it felt as vertiginous as the time before. She landed in what was another huge crash for him, making the tiny fresh soul lose all the air in his lungs. He had no choice but to inhale the strong smell of her foot.

It took Zycra only two steps to reach her desk and sit down on her chair. She put a spell on the box that contained the chocolate cake, hiding it from view, all the while casually eating up a piece of cake she carved for herself. She crossed her left leg over her right, lost in her thought. The elevated chair had her raise her heel, leaving only her toes in contact with the ground. Adam was not at all relieved: his head was squished under soft, bulbous toeskin while his arms and torso were trapped under thick footskin. His legs were completely free but his body was too broken to attempt anything. Why couldn’t he just die? The pain was unbearable.

Someone knocked on Zycra’s door. Surprised, she devoured in one bite the rest of her cake and quickly got up on her feet, miraculously freeing Adam from her sweaty grasp. “Yesh?” asked Zycra, gulping down her mouthful of delectable chocolate.

“Lady Zhykharah? I’ve been sent by Lady Laleissimithia to tell you she urgently needs you by her side, as the Feast is starting and guests are already lining up in the hall.”

“Tell her I’m on my way.”

From the other side of the door, there was a moment of silence, but Zycra could still feel the presence of the servant. “Has Lady Zhykharah thought of an appropriate costume, of some sort? Lady Laleissimithia is worried that you’ll repeat the… let’s say unfortunate events of the previous Feast.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ferdinand. I’m coming.”

“Very well, Lady Zhykharah.”

Zycra sighed, as she hated puny exercises of diplomacy and rhetoric manipulation. At least, food was good during the Feast of the Dead and there were some succubus she knew would be there that weren’t stuck up or pretentious. She searched for her mask with a skull on it, found it on her desk and sat back down.

Adam had been crawling with much difficulty. His arms were hurting him and his legs were completely useless. At least, he had been freed, that was all that mattered. Surely he was safe now. The moment he thought about his relative safety, Adam’s entire body was covered by a very large shadow. A shiver ran down his spine. Zycra’s left foot was about to step on him! “Not again!” He tried to avoid the descending mass by rolling to his left, but it only put him in a more precarious situation as he was now perpendicular to the foot. He held his breath as he braced for the impact.

There was no huge crash like he expected. He just couldn’t move his body one bit,: he got stuck between her lengthy toes, his whole body stiffly resting against three phalanges. Zycra’s fourth toe smooched Adam’s face while the rest of his body laid, tightly stuck, under her third and second toe. Face up, he was forced deeper inside her footskin due to the immense pressure, his face practically sandwiched between the soft flesh of the ball of her foot and her slender toe. This time, Zycra felt there was something under her foot, a little tickling sensation. She clenched her toes in reaction, unintentionally rubbing them all over Adam’s body and further shoving his face deeper in her sweaty grasp. Intrigued, she brought her left foot up on her right thigh while grabbing the stockings she needed for her costume stockings with her hand. She wanted to dislodge whatever was stuck between her soles, but someone knocked on her door again.

“Whaaat?” she said, looking at the closed door. She knew it was Ferdinand again, faithful and loyal Ferdinand.

“Lady Zhykharah, I beg you to hurry up. Lady Laleissimithia says she’ll shrink me down and personally eat me if I don’t bring you down at the hall with me. Please, Lady Zhykharah, tell me you’re ready.”

“Alright, alright, Ferdinand, calm down,” Zycra said, exasperated. Her mother was not the type of succubus to mess with. She needed to dress up, and quick. She put her stockings on and went on to costume herself in a strange, unsatanic type of costume.

Adam feared she’ll discover him and eat him without thinking about it twice. But the second round of knocking on the door distracted her. He tried the best he could to dislodge himself from the grasp of her toes, but simply couldn’t. She had to dislodge him herself, which made him rather hopeless for what was about to happen to him. He heard the conversation she had with Ferdinand and was utterly shocked when, instead of being picked up and eaten, he was plunged in dim, dark light. He felt the fabric rubbing against his back as Zycra was pushing her foot further in, carrying Adam with it. She just forgot about his presence there, distracted because she had to hurry up. She put her other leg in the pair of stockings and stood up, softly squashing Adam’s poor, trapped body. She proceeded to put her dress on and almost fused her footskin with the unfortunate Adam when she put on the boots that came with her costume.

Completely trapped and surrounded by Zycra’s toe grasp, perpetually assaulted by the strong smell of her feet that got him cornered, which increased tenfold because of the pair of boots she put on. He heard the sound of a door opening, words that were exchanged and an explication about her costume that had something to do with some rogues from some distant faraway culture or civilization she supposedly visited a long time ago. Then, as for what concerned Adam, everything else was just noises, rumbles and sweaty stinkiness.

However long lasted the Feast of the Dead, Adam knew he would be stuck in his position for a long, long time.

Zycra's Contest

By PrinnyDood & Krisexy

I. Edrig (By Prinny)

Being dead was a hell of a thing. Literally, in Edrig's case.

He was fairly certain he was dead, too. In large part due to the vivid memory of being stabbed repeatedly by some sort of 'chosen one' kid. And then hurled into a river of molten lava.

Working as an enforcer for an aspiring, world-conquering tyrant apparently had some severe downsides.

And yet there he was, standing awkwardly with thirteen strangers, on some strange expanse of artificial flooring. It was divided into large, defined square segments of alternating color, almost like a game board.

“Greetings, contestants!” a loud, cheerful female voice spoke from . . . somewhere uncertain. “I'm Zycra, and you've been selected to participate in my game! A game of skill. A game of strength and cunning! Only the best will triumph, while the rest . . .” The female voice faded out teasingly, offering no further explanation.

A few of the fourteen gathered people spoke in hushed voices. No one had much in the way of clothing, though thin metal bands seemed to be affixed to everyone's wrists, including his. Edrig noted with some discomfort that there were almost no other nekos besides him – just humans of various descriptions, and an elf woman. Humans were racist bastards where he came from, by and large, and he didn't like the odds of being outnumbered roughly ten-to-one.

Keeping to the fringes, his keen ears picked up snippets of conversation here and there, but it sounded like everyone was as confused as him. Or more so.

Prowling around, trying to find an angle to leverage some advantage, Edrig noticed a second neko was present after all. A tall, well-built fellow who looked like he could handle himself in a fight. He did not seem to be coping with the situation well, though, narrow eyes darting about, teeth bared, body tensed for fight or flight.

Edging over, Edrig gave a subtle gesture of greeting, hoping this stranger would understand they needed to stick together for the moment.

“Hail there,” Edrig began, but didn't get much further.

“Where the hell is this?!” the jittery neko demanded through clenched teeth. “I don't fucking belong here, you hear me?!”

“Hey, calm down there friend,” Edrig said in his smoothest tone. “It doesn't seem like anyone knows what's up, so we're all in this together.” Until the first moment Edrig saw a way out.

“This is some kinda nightmare, man!!” Edrig's prospective ally said, loud enough he drew some glances from the others. “This can't be real!!” He seemed to be sliding into outright panic. Time to defuse the situation.

Edrig opened his mouth to speak, but never got further, as one of those colored floor-segments was suddenly, violently shoved up and aside by . . . something huge and horrible.

Some kind of red, glistening wet tendril emerged from below, whipping out fast and prehensile to snare the other neko right before Edrig's eyes. In a fraction of a second he was constricted almost head-to-toe, even his mouth covered by the moist appendage. Despite his formidable build, Edrig had never seen anyone look so completely helpless, eyes wide in desperate, disbelieving horror.

Someone nearby let out a girlish scream, and then the tongue-thing withdrew, dragging the neko through the newly-made hole and out of sight. From down below, Edrig heard a feminine murmur of pleasure, followed by a very audible gulp.

“Shit,” Edrig managed to mutter, as his brain tried to catch up with what the hell he was seeing.

Before he could come close to processing the insane horror-show, another floor-panel was loudly smashed aside. That same tongue lunged forth, everyone scattering to keep away. It was quick and had a terribly long reach, allowing it to easily snare someone by the legs, wrapping around his body like some massive slimy snake, before he too was pulled below with a wail of horror.

Now true panic broke out, everyone running around and trying to stay away from the two square holes it had emerged from already. Edrig knew this was stupid, because it had proven it could come up anywhere, so he stayed in one place, and kept his attention fixed to the area nearest to himself, poised to dodge away.

Another panel was smashed up, this time one with a woman standing on it. She shrieked and kicked her legs as she was launched up into the air. The tongue snaked up, snatching her mid-flight, wrapping her bodily before drawing her back down to whatever horrors waited below. Another loud gulp, followed by a little female giggle.

It was difficult to suppress the instinct to panic and run around, but so far it hadn't done anyone else much good.

Again the strange tongue-monster burst forth from below, knocking another of the floor-tiles skyward. The sinister appendage whipped out towards that elven woman, but in a display of fluid nimbleness she hopped, ducked and twisted away, leaving the tongue groping uselessly at the air. A frustrated feminine noise sounded from below.

Once the elf retreated out of range, a few people let out uneasy cheers at the first 'victory' thus far. Then the launched floor-tile came tumbling down, landing dead-center upon another woman who had been watching the elf from well away.

At first Edrig expected the impact to be lethal, but the tiles seemed to be made from some type of heavy foam-like substance, leaving the unlucky woman pinned but seemingly unharmed. She screamed for help, and then Edrig noticed she was another Neko he had overlooked.

It was stupid to risk himself for another, even a neko, but Edrig couldn't quite resist the irrational impulse. He edged over, took hold of the offending tile, and lifted it off with some effort.

“Thank you! I-” the neko woman stopped as several screams issued from around them. Before she could stand, Edrig saw the tongue emerge again, this time heading right for them. Before either could react, it slithered around her legs and waist like some demonic snake, her cry of panic desperate and frantic.

For a moment Edrig froze, caught between the impulse to run vs. help.

“Help! Help me!!” she wailed, reaching out, as the tongue worked its way up over her chest and shoulders, muffling her cries as it wrapped across her face.

Edrig reached out to grab her hand, but the tongue yanked at the last moment. Their fingers barely brushed as the unnamed neko was drawn back, eyes wide with horror and panic before she finally disappeared with that seeking tongue. A few moments passed, and then another foreboding gulp sounded from below.

The remaining 'contestants' resumed their aimless movements as they tried to find some way clear of this death-field, or just avoided the sinister holes left behind by the previous attacks. A few besides Edrig seemed to have caught on though, now, keeping still and tense, watching the floor in anticipation of the next assault.

Despite the inevitability, everyone screamed once more as the tongue reemerged, this time thankfully on the opposite side of the arena from Edrig. It swept up a smaller, youngish man, yanking him down and out of sight in a stunningly quick flash. Edrig held his breath, awaiting the swallow, but instead the tongue returned at once, breaking through almost right under his feet.

Stunned at this unexpected behavior, Edrig tried to scramble back, screamed as he felt the unnatural slimy heat of the appendage coiling up his legs and torso, dragging him bodily down with horrifying ease.

He cried out and flailed in blind panic and disbelief as he was pulled into the air below the 'arena', and finally got a glimpse of the creature the tongue belonged to.

Among the last things Edrig expected to see was a gigantic, naked woman. Yet that was exactly what awaited him.

She was astoundingly beautiful, the curves of her voluptuous, deeply tan flesh filling his gaze like some salacious landscape. And her eyes, yellow and striking. She also had large, demonic bat-wings, pointed ears and a tail, marking her supernatural nature even if one discounted the fact she appeared over 100 feet tall.

The impossible female smirked, and Edrig's briefly-distracted panic resumed at full-force as he was drawn inexorably down towards her yawning mouth. He tried to scream, yet her slithery tongue found its way up across his face, effectively silencing him as he descended gradually towards the yawning, glistening maw.

The nightmarish scenario continued without pause or diversion, and soon he felt the wash of warm, humid air envelop him as he was drawn into the shadowy mouth completely.

The change of scenery was no upgrade, as total darkness consumed him, and the binding tongue grew suddenly, wildly more active. He yelped, sputtered and flailed, but there was no escape or resistance against the enthusiastic organ, as it slavered with wet, horrible heat across his body.

There was no way to maneuver or retaliate against the squishy, frictionless, enveloping flesh, while the predatory demoness seemed in no rush, tongue working to taste him thoroughly.

Without warning, light returned to Edrig's eyes, as the coiling tongue pushed him partway back out, so just his head protruded between the giantesses lips.

“Alright boys and girls!” the succubus spoke, her words somehow barely slurred, despite how occupied her mouth was. “I think that does it for round one!”

She gestured flippantly, and the edifice just above, where the remaining survivors were, collapsed and changed shape, most of the panels falling away, to leave only four narrow planks, each with one person on either side.

“For round two, the objective is simple: knock your opponent off!” the giantess said, speaking over Edrig's protests of rising terror. “Winners will proceed to the last game, while the losers . . . well, see for yourselves!”

Edrig let out a despairing cry as the giant tongue slurped him in, blanketing everything in darkness. Minutes of breathless, sweltering horror passed, as the agile tongue worked him over with horribly sensual patience, his desperate sputtering cries overshadowed by smooth, feminine hums of appreciation from the throat of the giantess.

Inevitably, the situation turned sharply for the worse, as the lascivious tongue shoved him promptly back, such that his head and shoulders where suddenly wrapped tight in slick, hot tissue. Then, she swallowed.

There was no resisting, as the rippling, slimy pull of the giant esophagus took hold, sucking him down, down, down the malevolent passage towards digestion.

Being dead was a hell of a thing.

II. Vliss (By Prinny)

Vliss Bellona was not accustomed to being made someone else's entertainment. She had lived a life of considerable power and luxury, and even unraveled a ritual that would allow her to remain eternally young, so long as she could acquire enough virgin blood to bathe in. The last thing she recalled, prior to this hellscape, was slipping in the bathtub and hitting her head.

Whatever the sequence of events that lead her to this situation, she would use any means necessary to make it through alive. Or, as alive as one could be, once one had already died and gone to Hell.

Vliss was relived to not be among the first pair of 'contestants', her heart nonetheless racing as she observed the two who would be fighting for their lives.

It seemed the insufferable elven woman, and a tall, rugged, wiry young man faced off first. Below the narrow beam of their battleground, the giant, demonic female stood in plain sight, her mouth already opened hungrily to admit the looser.

“I hate to do this, babydoll,” the wiry man spoke, grinning, “but when it's between you and me, I always pick me. Nothin' personal.” He was easily a foot taller, and probably outweighed the elf woman by fifty pounds . . . and all of it muscle, by the looks of him. Vliss was very aware of what an edge size and strength gave. Nearly insurmountable, in a bare-handed contest like this.

“You are my lesser in every conceivable way, human,” she spoke the last word like a curse.

“Hurry up and fight!!” Zycra said with cheery impatience, wagging her tongue at them.

“Sure thing ma’am, one elf-girl entree comin' right up,” the cocky man said. And then lunged forward at his far smaller opponent.

He reached out to grab her by the hair, but she slipped away low. He brought a knee up to strike her crouching figure, and she flowed gracefully to the side, dancing around behind him.

The elf-woman threw her whole body into a shove, striking the man square in the back . . . but she just didn't weigh enough. He lurched, but lowered his stance, steadying himself before she did. He whipped around, pushing her like she weighed nothing . . . and over the edge she went.

Vliss saw it before the assumed victor did. The elf caught the edge of the plank, and launched herself back up like she weighed nothing. Her opponent was caught completely off-balance, as she delivered a precise kick to his shoulder. He spun, stumbled, teetered . . . and then she planted a second kick square in his back, sending him over the edge.

It seemed he was not quite acrobatic enough to catch himself as the elf had, and so he plummeted with a disbelieving scream towards Zycra's waiting maw.

She snatched him out of the air with an effortless flick of her tongue, wrapping him head-to-toe in slimy, coiling tissue. He screamed again, more desperate, as the demoness reeled him in, his flailing form enveloped between her smirking, merciless lips.

She swallowed after a few moments, and grinned. “Okay! Elf-girl is the winner for this round. Next!”

Vliss watched again as two others were paired up, this time a hulking tower of a man, over six feet of pure muscle against . . . a petite, slender woman.

Vaguely discomfited by the sheer lopsidedness of it, Vliss watched as the man walked over to the cringing girl, who had clearly never been in a physical conflict in her life.

“We . . . we don't have to fight!” she squeaked, backpedaling.

“Yes you do!” Zycra corrected cheerfully from below.

There was nowhere to run or hide, so in only a matter of moments, he had seized her by the arm, and flung her over the side dispassionately.

There was no shocking last-second reversal like the previous contest. Just the hapless woman’s shriek as she fell down into the waiting mouth of the giantess. Zycra's tongue snatched her up eagerly, winding wet and visibly gooey up and down her slim figure, her thin, breathless cries gratingly ceaseless.

“Next!” Zycra said, still holding the hapless, shrieking woman coiled up in her tongue, for all to see and hear.

Vliss found herself severely distracted by the mewling, whimpering girl ensnared by the tongue of the demoness just below them, as she was compelled to finally take take her turn. Yet Zycra seemed in no rush, lavishing the poor loser in slimy, unwelcome attention, as Vliss and her foe took their places.

Vliss was not an especially practiced fighter, but she had fenced and learned the basics of martial arts in her youth. More promising yet, her opponent was a skinny, youngish-looking man, uncertain and soft in the face.

As they squared off, Vliss took a deliberately submissive stance, putting on her best fearful expression. “Please, don't do this!” she said in a whimpery tone, and was rewarded by an uneasy, fidgety expression from her foe.

“I . . . I don't think we have a choice.”

“That's correct! If somebody doesn't get knocked off there, I'll just eat you both!” Zycra said with discordant cheeriness, as her tongue continued to coil and squeeze the hapless woman languishing in her open mouth.

“We can run away together,” Vliss insisted in a hissing whisper. “She won't catch us, and I'll be in your debt forever!”

The young man hesitated, his eyes dropping to roam over Vliss's voluptuous figure. No better time.

“Idiot!” Vliss spat, lunging forward and shoving her adversary hard in the chest. Unbalanced, he toppled back with a yelp, clutching at her arms. She tried to pull away, but lost her balance, and stumbled forward.

The direction of her shove had been poorly thought-out, Vliss realized suddenly, as the young man fell backwards but simply landed prone upon the plank. Waving her arms with a breathless gasp, Vliss reflexively put her foot down . . . right onto her foe's stomach.

He made a pained 'oof', but Vliss suffered far worse, as her foot twisted, and she lurched helplessly off the side of the platform into open air.

“Ahhhhh!” She screamed in sudden, heart-stopping horror as wind whistled over her, and Zycra's open mouth swelled to fill her vision.

Before she could plummet headfirst into the recesses of the predator's throat, Zycra's already-occupied tongue snaked out, seizing her mid-air and wrapping her in thick, hot, gooey coils.

“Nnnngh! Ahhh!” Vliss cried out, her protests shaky and breathless, as the terrible, rippling tongue constricted and slithered wantonly over her body.

Zycra made a pleased, satisfied murmur, as her tongue rolled and twined across Vliss and the other women both, squishing them about until they were soon pressed together face-to-face in the sweltering, squishy confines.

“Mmmph! Nhaaa, haaah!” Vliss's squirming 'companion' mewled and simpered, as the dizzying, heady moments passed with them squashed together in that slimy, unwanted embrace.

At last the tongue rippled into motion, somehow pulling the other woman down while Vliss remained tangled in slimy place, drawing her further in until her legs and hips suddenly wedged firmly into the shadowy depths of the throat.

“Noo! Nonononoo!” the nameless woman tipped her head back and wailed in despair, wide eyes locking briefly with Vliss's. Then the esophagus clamped down, enveloping her utterly in a wet, rolling gulp. Gone.

The reality of her position bearing down, Vliss squirmed against the coiling tongue with a surge of desperation, her breaths rapid and shallow as she tried to get a grip on the giant organ. Tried to push it away or wriggle free. Nothing helped.

“Mmmmm, so good,” Zycra intoned, the words reverberating around Vliss's body, even as the tongue squished and slavered across her in slow, patient licks.

She could barely breath from the suffocating heat and saliva, panting out plaintive denials as she was slowly, thoroughly coiled and tasted and savored by the impossible succubus.

Only after a small eternity of that dizzying treatment did Vliss at last feel herself being drawn back and down, towards the eager depths of the throat. She let out a breathless whimper as her legs and hips were suddenly gripped by the sucking compression of the esophagus. With a single rolling swallow she was pulled 'free' of the tongue . . . and into a far worse situation. Wrapped tight on all sides by the hot, slick tissue, Vliss could only sputter and moan as she was ushered deeper and deeper towards her ultimate fate in the belly of the succubus.

Perhaps, in hindsight, the cost of eternal youth was a bit too high.

III. Eshrimelle (By Prinny)

Of the fourteen souls who had begun, only four remained uneaten now.

Eshrimelle, being an elven woman of high standing, had a terribly low opinion of the other three, all humans and inherently inferior to her by nature.

Yet the fate of those who lost was enough to send chills down her spine. Eshrimelle's last memories, prior to her arrival in this twisted afterlife, were that of being devoured and digested by a giant, vapid mermaid-creature. She had little desire to repeat the experience.

“Okay you skillful and/or lucky treats. Final round.” Zycra said with somewhat sedated enthusiasm. Eshrimelle could clearly see the predator's stomach was now very visibly rounded and full from the volume of unfortunate souls she had already consumed.

“Let's see . . . what would make a good final game . . . something fun . . . with only one winner of course . . . hmmm. Coming up with these is harder than you'd think.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Eshrimelle spoke, voice respectfully subdued.

“Huh? Okay,” Zycra shrugged casually.

“I think an obstacle course would be best. A contest of poise and balance to determine the final winner.”

Zycra pursed her lips. “Hmm, that sounds okay I guess.”

“No way!” one of the human males cried. “Did you see that bitch flippin' 'round?! She's just choosin' a game she'll win!”

The succubus tilted her head and grinned impishly. “Hmm, good point! Do you have a counter-proposal?”

“A contest of strength,” the large, placid man rumbled. “We hang from a platform. The last to fall wins.”

“But that would be so dull!” Eshrimelle broke in uneasily, uncertain of her chances in such a contest. “Something dynamic, with-”

“Alright, I've decided!” Zycra spoke over them suddenly, and waved her hands to begin rearranging the arena one final time.

The floor panels came together in a sudden rush of motion, closing in on the trapped souls, forming a large square 'room' around them, with just one opening, in the ceiling.

“The rules are simple,” Zycra said cheerily from outside. “When only one is left outside my belly, they're the winner! And whatever you do to make that happen is fair play!”

The four 'contestants' stared at each other uneasily, and soon the nature of the game became clear, as Zycra's long, wet tongue squelched it through the single opening. It moved like a huge, bizarre animal, taking up a great deal of the room's center, shifting and undulating hungrily.

For a handful of seconds, no one moved or spoke. Then, the huge human man stepped suddenly to one side, grabbing the one closest to him – the skinny, boyish blond man – and tossing him at the tongue.

The unhappy victim yelped as he stumbled into the tongue with a wet 'splat'. Like a slimy snake, it coiled around him with frightful purpose, proceeding to yank him out of the room in a quick jerk. His screams were cut off presently, followed by a loud gulp to signify his fate.

“You caught on quick this round! Not to influence anyone, but I really want a taste of that elf!” The giant tongue returned as before, ready for the next 'looser'.

Eshrimelle looked between the remaining humans and gauged her odds. The big, muscular one was unreadable, while the other – a wiry, tan-skinned man with tattooed forearms and shifty eyes – appeared more pliable.

She turned to her best bet, and make her appeal. “Neither of us have a chance against that hulk alone! Help me, and we can works something out after!” Which would most likely involve her hip-throwing him directly into the tongue's clutches . . . but she kept that part to herself.

The tattooed man just nodded, and turned his eyes to the larger man.

“I was reigning champion of the Solvian Arena for twenty years!” the big man called, for the first time raising his voice. “And I will be victorious here too!”

There was little room to maneuver, but Eshrimelle did her best, slipping to one side as the two human men squared off.

The big one moved aggressively, immediately dominating the confrontation, while Eshrimelle's ally seemed fully occupied just staying out of his grip. Eshrimelle waited for a moment of opening, and when it arrived, she darted in.

She danced in close, striking at his kidney with an elbow. It was like hitting a slab of cow-meat. He noticed though, and turned, reaching for her with his huge hand. She slipped away again, and brought her knee up, hitting the same spot with all her might. He grunted, throwing the other man away with a great sweep of his arms, and then turned his full focus onto Eshrimelle.

He barreled at her like an enraged animal, trying to bowl her over. She bent her body down almost to the floor, rolling away as he stomped the ground, denying her room to counter attack.

He was powerful, and possessed some skill. But his apparent pride seemed a chink in his facade of strength. “This 'Solvia' must be a terribly tiny backwater,” Eshrimelle said, striking a haughty pose. “if this is all it took to be champion.”

“Action speaks louder than empty words,” he returned, outwardly unaffected, but she hoped he would be a little more careless now.

The three of them paced back and forth, attention fixed on each other. Zycra's huge, wet, coiling tongue remained in the center. Waiting.

In a blur of motion, Eshrimelle's 'ally' rushed in aggressively. It seemed he had been holding back before, his movements suddenly all swaying feints and unpredictable, almost drunken-looking motions.

Eshrimelle circled, biding her time, as the larger man struggled to keep up, his moves all going in the wrong places at the wrong times against the artful misdirection, each of his missteps punished by a flurry of swift strikes to his most vulnerable points.

The hulking warrior seemed to wear down rapidly, his attacks ever further behind his adversary with each second. Eshrimelle saw it for the ruse it was . . . and almost called out a warning. She bit down on the words instead, realizing she would be far better off if both warriors were as battered as possible, by the time it was down to two.

As expected, the smaller, quicker man grew more confident, taking greater risks as he pushed to finish the bout. His muscular foe seemed to suddenly shrug off his 'exhaustion', grabbing him lightning-quick by the hair and arm, and hurling him at the waiting tongue.

Eshrimelle didn't hesitate, driving forward in a flurry of graceful, swirling kicks and pirouettes, taking the big man off-balance. He staggered as she landed several solid strikes, stumbling towards the tongue as it lashed around randomly.

Yet he still managed to avoid the deadly pink organ, and regain his footing. Cursing her plight, Eshrimelle put all her focus upon her final adversary, staying in constant motion. Her odds in a straight-up fight seemed marginal.

Stony-faced, the muscled man kept edging closer. Slowly. Carefully. Never leaving an opening. Eshrimelle continued to withdraw in reply, but there was only so much space. Only so long before she was cornered. Eventually she stopped with her back to Zycra's tongue, ready to make her stand.

He didn't rush in recklessly. Just approached her steadily. She waited, heart racing, until he was almost within arm's reach. Then, she took a small step back, and kicked the tongue behind her.

The moment her foot contacted the hot, slimy organ, it sprung to life, coiling and shifting blindly to seize her. But she was ready, and slipped artfully to one side. The muscular man kept his focus on her as she moved . . . for just a split-second too long. He yelled and tried to throw himself aside, too late, as the tongue barreled into him, wrapping securely around his figure in an instant, all his size and strength utterly dwarfed by the tongue of the succubus.

With a roar of denial, he was carried up any away, out of the box and into the waiting maw of the giant predator. Eshrimelle waited, and felt some considerable satisfaction when she heard the especially loud gulp that signified his consignment to the belly of the succubus.

She waited, heart thundering. Would she be declared the winner and set free, or would the succubus dismiss her own rules and simply eat her in the end? Such creatures were typically true to the letter of their word . . . but still. She had little real experience.

As she feared, the tongue returned, sliding wet and sinister into the closed room, undulating in an almost lewd fashion.

“You said the winner would be set free, demon! Keep your word!”

“Don't try to fool me!” Zycra's voice issued from above. “You think I can't count?”

“What?” Eshrimelle blurted, her mind racing to catch up in an ugly second. She whirled, but before she could get halfway there, a fierce shove caught her in the shoulder, throwing her straight into the tongue's horrible embrace.

Wet, hot saliva met bare flesh, as the tongue coiled with terrible eagerness around her waist and torso.

“Aahh! Nngahh!!” Eshrimelle shrieked, writhing, all her grace and dexterity suddenly worthless, useless against the tongue binding her.

Down below, Eshrimelle's former ally stared up at her from safety, wordless and stony-faced. Somehow, he had escaped the tongue's grasp, and stayed in her blindspot.

“Nnoo! You cheating filth!” Eshrimelle gasped out, but she could do nothing as the tongue pulled her up and away towards her unspeakable fate.

The world shifted, suddenly replaced by Zycra's pleased face, mouth wide open. The tongue holding Eshrimelle lead straight into those dark red, shadowy depths.

“Mmmmph!!” The coiling tongue curled and slavered across her body as she drew gradually closer to the yawning maw. Zycra's eyes closed halfway in naked pleasure, whilst the tip of the hideous tongue squelched hot and slimy up across Eshrimelle's delicate face.

There was no escape, no rescue and no mercy, as the warm darkness of the succubus's mouth enveloped her squirming form. Smiling lips sealed, bathing her in perfect black, a heavy wash of saliva rolling over her, soaking every inch of her smooth, perfect flesh.

It seemed Zycra was in no rush, as the tongue squished and coiled and groped her in endless, rolling motions. Her breaths came shallow and gasping, every surreal moment of nightmarish impossibility seeming an eternity. And yet when the 'tasting phase' reached its end, she was quite the opposite of relieved.

Zycra's throat gripped her by the legs and hips, the powerful, irresistible swallow squeezing and drawing her ever on and ever down towards the crowded, churning belly of the succubus.

Her prior experience in the stomach of a giant mermaid did little to allay her horror, as she was consigned to digestion a second time.

IV. Markus (By Krisexy26)

“I’m way too – burp – too full to reinterpret the rules and eat you anyway. Congrats, I guess. You get to bluster around claiming you’re a champion and blah blah. Go on, shoo.” Zycra waved her hand dismissively at the uncontested winner of her depraved games. “I’m gonna have a lil’ lay down. Enjoy your freedom, while it lasts.”

Just like that, Markus had won his freedom. He would live, at least longer than the other thirteen people the amber-eyed succubus mercilessly devoured, sending them down into her gurgling, acid-filled stomach. A dreadful resting place for the whole pack of them. Them, and the countless hundreds of thousands of others before them. Every last one, gone in the perfect mocha-skinned body of the seductive fire succubus. Probably disintegrated, or worse: still conscious yet forever trapped with her, within her, legions and legions of aimless, floating consciousnesses completely and utterly subsumed by Zycra’s stronger, chaotic will. In other words: a Sarlacc-esque permanent state of torture, cast into the darkest, most abyssal of pits – forever.

As he navigated his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the Zhordfhor’s Palace, gruesome images of the crazy experience he just lived through haunted him, particularly the elderly man he was forced to throw down for Zycra to enjoy. The succubus hadn’t even toyed with the poor man: she had opened her mouth wide, guiding him in his fall with her long, tentacle-like tongue directly towards her quivering throat and swallowed him alive, her mouth still open. A lump had protruded for a brief time along her slender neck and then disappeared within her ribcage. The old man had shared a heartbreaking stare with Markus, making him realize that he was the last thing he was ever seeing in his life, ever. Horrified by this dramatic event, this rapid and casual extinction of an individual, he had felt true fear as Zycra shut her smirking lips and shared a gaze with him as well. A content, satisfied, yet teasing expression he would never forget. She had given him a quick wink, and then they were all transported into the finale stage, which, Markus sighed, he had won quite by chance. It was strange to him how much he felt nothing for the elf, and all he could think of was good riddance. Was it Hell already messing with his sanity? Has he ever been sane since the end of his mortal life? Has he ever been sane, at all?

Lost in his troubled thoughts as he avoided torchlight and followed the roughness of the stone walls, he was a little surprised when he finally arrived at the main hall of the palace. Everything was calm and quiet. He would get out the same way he foolishly arrived in the first place: a little crack showed up when the doors would open, just under the hinge, which any human could easily pass through – as it was intended. He would only have to descend the giant-sized staircase and make a run for it. The clearance between the staircase and the doors would be tricky, as it would leave him fully exposed, but he had no choice if he ever wanted to escape this dreadful place. Outside, he had concluded, was way better than inside. Markus waited, patiently. A dozen minutes passed, and nothing happened, only the occasional faraway scream of a damned soul, a common tune in Hell. This was the moment.

Everything was going well. He managed to get a good rhythm while going down the immense staircase, but when he reached the very last stair, luck abandoned him – as if any damned soul ever had a chance anyway. The two immense doors slammed open, and four demons hastily made their way in. They were led by a female figure, a succubus with blueish skin as pale as the moon and a pair of dragon-like wings emerging from her back. She was speaking authoritatively:

“-and I want my daughter to be ready tonight, is that clear, Ferdinand?”

“Yes, your frightfulness,” answered a demon, strangely dressed as a butler.

“I’ll be in the war room if anything comes up. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, your smugness.”

The butler bowed absurdly low and quickly went on his way. The succubus was pensive for a fraction of a second and then, as fast as lightning, she focused her attention directly onto Markus, who, in the meantime, was attempting to run as fast as he could down the last stair and possibly towards a safe spot. Instead, she looked intently at him, in a really imposing manner, a faint smile slowly forming on her lips. Strangely, fear gripped him so hard at that moment that his muscles instantly paralyzed, leaving him stuck there, an immobile little lamb facing a one hundred foot tall wolf. His mouth opened in shock, at first because he truly couldn’t move a limb, like he was petrified the instant this silver succubus set her eyes on him, and then because he could do nothing but follow with his own eyes the approaching, looming figure of this extremely dangerous being of the Underworld.

Two dazzling, intense, piercing yellow eyes. Markus had seen that before. This was indeed none other than Zycra’s mother, Laleissimithia, the Number Two of the Zhordfhor clan and one of the most dangerous demons of the infernal realms. Light smoothly reflected on her silvery skin and shoulder length platinum hair, making her slightly radiant. Six horns crowned her head, each adorned by a golden ring, while the pair of demonic wings, immobile for now, were colored in shades of pale violet. Overtly erotically dressed, like all succubi, small pieces of clothing barely covered her intimate parts, and she didn’t seem incommoded in the slightest, quite the contrary. Her long tail, with a triangular-shaped tip, casually swayed from left to right. Behind Laleiss, two heavily armed dark spirits were floating in the air, waiting for instructions. Inside their helmets, no eyes nor any facial features were discernible – only abyssal darkness.

Laleiss’ eyes narrowed slightly when she got no reaction from this damned soul. She was of course responsible for his paralysis, as she was used to spark fear in any soul with a simple gaze. However, this mortal had been quite easy to ensnare as he just froze there, scared stiff, experiencing for the first time true fear-motivated tonic immobility. As she reached him, he was just looking at her, his mouth wide in awe, distressed by her towering stature. Souls that reacted that way were often softhearted, but because of certain irreparable misdeeds, still found their way to Hell. Easy preys for ravenous demons that craved on swallowing alive a frightened, small and pitiful human soul. Just like Markus.

“Trying to get trampled, is that it?” Her voice was uncommonly melodious, yet it was also strikingly unique, like two pieces of steel clinging into one another. Unlike Zycra’s, whose expressive speech was tainted with sarcasm and tease, Laleiss’ spoke much more confidently, weighing each words carefully and delivering them with the maturity you’d expect from an infernal archdemon. “Bad way to go – and such a waste of a rare commodity,” she obviously lied. “How long have you been dead?” she falsely pondered, making conversation.

“N-not very long, b-but I eh...” Markus’ muscle memory was slowly coming back to him. What to tell this gigantic demoness? He was doomed for sure, unless he could talk his way out of it. Odds were greatly in his disfavor. Still shaken by everything that had just happened, Markus almost forgot his achievement. He did have a strong argument, at least from his perspective: “I won the contest! I’ve earned my freedom!”

“Did you?” the succubus said with a soothing voice, displaying a faint yet amused smile. Damned souls that thought they were somehow free: how much cuter could they get? This one was definitely new arrival. “And what were you doing, just now?”

“Going h-” The word died in his throat, hurting him. For a short moment, he truly wished he could go back home, but that would obviously never be the case. He recovered from the dreadful sentiment that coursed through his heart, painfully swallowed it down, and answered instead: “Away. I’m going away. I’m not a slave anymore.”

“Is that what you believe?” asked the carnivorous demoness with a growing smirk on her face. “And those shackles around your wrists? Decorative, I presume?”

Markus did look at his wrists and he couldn’t contradict this viper’s tongue. Indeed, he didn’t look free at all. Worst, he looked like an escaped convict or a runaway slave. “I can explain.”

“I didn’t quite catch that. Would you come closer?”

Markus was about to propose the opposite, but then something strange happened: he felt his arms rise up against his will. He tried to force them back down, and gasped when he couldn’t. He entered a deep state of panic when his arms continued to rise skywards, so much that his feet were no longer touching the ground. He squirmed helplessly, like a devil in holy water. Markus was literally floating in the air, and he was getting higher and higher by the second. Facing Laleiss’ midsection, he noticed that her left thumb and index fingers were adorned by a golden, dangerously sharp claw. Her index finger was making subtle upwards motions, quietly lifting him up through magical means. In less time than it takes to say, the ‘winner of the contest’ was now face to face with the alarmingly alluring succubus. His eyes met hers once more, like two confident, irradiating suns that penetrated his whole being, melting him from the inside. “You were saying?” she said in a steely tone. “Something about ‘explaining yourself’.”

To his own surprise, Markus managed to rally what he had left of composure. The situation quickly went from happily victorious to seriously precarious, but he was ready to defend his case. “I swear on my life, I won a contest and I was set free.”

“The life you no longer have. And more than likely set loose,” corrected the magnanimous succubus as she resumed on her walk, easily climbing up the immense staircase that had taken Markus an eternity to descend, maintaining his floating body in front of her face. All the while behind her, the two dark spirits were silently following, undisturbed. “Do you know what you smell like, mortal?” she said, as if telling an absolute, fundamental truth. “You reek of a life driven by lies, deceit, manipulation and – oh! What is that? I recognize that smell. Mmh, yes. I can feel it. Cowardice,” she insisted on the word, hissing the last syllable like a snake. She then paused for a few seconds, reminiscing, all the while licking and moistening her lips. “So much bittersweetness for such an insignificant soul,” she observed, coldly objective. The succubus’ words were deeply disturbing Markus. Not only because it was true, but because of the way her voice was violently penetrating his head, psychologically mauling him and the way those eyes, those fire-filled eyes, stared at him, pierced through his soul, making his heart bump faster and louder. “So tell me,” Laleiss continued, making a circular motion with her armored finger, which ensnared Markus, making him spin on himself, dizzying him, “why should I trust any word that comes out of your mouth?”

“B-bargain! A bargain! I eh...– Bargain!” The words were quite tainted in a desperate tone, but they did get an impact. Not enough to make her stop walking as she was bringing him deeper into the palace, but quite enough to make Laleiss slightly raise an eyebrow. He felt like being sentenced to death just now, so this was a situation, another, where he would either partially win or lose everything. His primal instincts were getting the better of him, and they had a little difficulty adjusting to the new reality. He was so incredibly close to her overwhelmingly beautiful face, her warm breath was gently caressing his face. The fact that his height equaled a finger of hers greatly diminished him while indubitably empowering her. The succubus facing him was just too imposing, too dominant and, that ever present thought, too devastatingly gorgeous and strikingly elegant for any human standards. He had to manage something, anything. “I propose a bargain! Ain’t that in your demon code or something?”

Markus felt something was very wrong as his hands were dragged towards her dangerously alluring face. “Humans,” Laleiss said, lightly shaking her head in disapproval. “Look at you. So eager to live when death is all over you.” Markus did try to swim away, flailing his legs around, but the silver succubus’ magnetic powers were just too powerful, as he was inexorably dragged towards her lusciously inviting lips. “There exists of course a demon code that concerns humans, but I’m afraid it only applies to living beings, not dead ones. And you...” She raised her golden, armored claw way too close to him, immobilizing him mid-air. She put the extremely sharp tip right under his chin, and began descending downwards. She could easily have sliced him open, which he feared for a moment. Instead, she tore off the fabric of his simple clothes and, in a matter of seconds, he found himself completely naked and still being slowly dragged closer to her against his will, dangling in the air like a toy. Laleiss continued: “You’re just a pathetic… silly… tiny… little… bodiless… lifeless… human soul. And quite powerless. And completely at my mercy. And looking so, so... deliciously delectable...”

During her speech, Markus could’ve swore that he saw something underneath her tongue. It happened in a flash as she spoke fast, and he couldn’t quite make sense of what he glimpsed. It couldn’t be… But then she kept on verbally diminishing him, and each word resonated deep in his mind and were received like ice-cold knives that pierced right through his heart. Laleiss knew how her words were sinking in deep in his now very fragile psyche.

“And quite frankly, between you and me, my freshly arrived and ignorant honey morsel,” she added in a soft murmur, mesmerizing Markus with the gracious movements of her terribly heavenly attracting, soul-giving lips, “what do you really have to bargain with?”

The coldheartedness of Laleiss is what affected him the most. She was definitely going to eat him, now, and she would do so coldly, dispassionately, disinterestedly, the way an executioner swings their sword. His thoughts drove to all the others that were eaten without further consideration by Zycra. It was probably sadistic to think this way, but he kind of hoped he would get an ending like the one Zycra offered to some of the contestants: deliberate, sensual toying. Most souls, in the perpetual damnation that is their life in Hell, could at least hope to get a satisfying exit, one where a horny succubus would use them to satisfy her deviant, decadent, lust-driven life. Markus had heard so many stories from eye-witnesses, he came to believe the stories were true. He did believe that Zycra would “reward” him by enslaving him, making him do dirty deeds, or whatever. Something. Maybe. Possibly. But it didn’t happen, he was just set loose. He remembered once more the old man he had sent to his death, how quickly Zycra had disposed of him. Seeing how Laleiss seemed like the kind of demon to not mess around very long and the way she was treating him and looking at him so intensely, he was certain she would simply toss him down her throat, swallow him whole and be done with him.

If only Markus had known how wrong he was.

Laleiss immobilized her prey at a human arm’s length of her mouth. At this point, the succubus’ hot breath was already making him sweaty. Slowly, she opened her mouth wide, revealing the glistening, saliva-stranded, rosy interior to him. Markus was unwillingly turned on by this spectacle, but what happened next truly… disturbed him. Laleiss twisted her pinkish red tongue around and scooped out from underneath it a massively drenched and heavily exhausted human soul. Markus knew there was something under Laleiss’ tongue, but to find there a poor, miserable soul, a regular looking man, just like him, that shocked him. Light seemed to hurt the prisoner’s eyes, as he had been stuck in Laleiss’ mouth for countless solar days, but the poor fella did notice Markus, floating right outside his damp, fleshy cage. His eyes widened and he was about to tell him the most important thing of his life when, instead, the tongue squeezed him hard against the roof of the mouth. The silver succubus let the damned soul rest half a second, a precious moment where he once again attempted to communicate with Markus, to no avail, as she squeezed him another time against her palate, harder, ruthlessly extracting what he had left of savor. It was so brutal, droplets of saliva had flown on Markus’ naked body. Then, Laleiss rolled the soul all around her mouth, slapped his face with her fleshy muscle and sent him down to his doom with one small gulp. The poor soul tried to get a grip on something, an invisible escape rope, the helping hand of an absent angel, anything to hold on to dear life. All in vain. He slid so smoothly down her throat, she barely needed to swallow him as gravity easily pushed him down her esophagus. Markus heard all too well his yells of distress as this unnamed, unknown man disappeared from the surface of the world. What had been a loud, acute and distressful scream gradually transformed into a faraway noise, then a muffled echo, then nothing.

“Now you take his place with me,” the demonic giantess whispered to him, followed by a metallic chortle. Laleiss slightly opened her mouth, and Markus’ shackles once again dragged him against his will towards the light blueish lips of what will be his new hostess for a long, long time. His hands passed by her lips and he was forced to stop his desperate wriggling and put his feet on both her soft, plushy lips and pull in the opposite direction. Markus felt at this moment the true strength of the magnetic field that she naturally emitted, an invisible yet seemingly invincible force. He would not last long.

“L-let me go, demon! Please!” he heartbrokenly shouted out while desperately fighting for his life.

“Mmmhh… How about you let go,” she whispered tenderly, engulfing his whole body in hot, humid air.

To add up to his misery, Laleiss increased the distance between her lips, not enough to make him fall, but just enough to let her tongue out. She ran the tip of it on his feet and legs, which tickled him and sent a shiver of arousal through his body. “What is she-,” he thought rapidly. “Oh no. Oh nonono!” In his total dismay, she deliberately ran her tongue over his exposed manhood, filling his whole being with unwelcome lust. “Why is she- humpfff! Nngnh! No no- aah-aahaah-hhaaaaah! S-stop! Stop! No! No! N-nnngnhhaah-huff… huff...” He panted hard as she applied more pressure over his most intimate yet now uncontrollable private area, and then the succubus completed her motion by lasciviously licking his whole body up, gently tickling his face with the very tip of her tongue. Things were getting really hot now, and he was already half-blinded by the sticky saliva she spread all over his face. So hot in fact, it was getting hard to breath, plus the relentless effort he was putting in trying to pull back his wrists from drawing him into Laleiss’ open maw. She kept licking and tonguing every inch of his skin with vigorous insistence, all the while lathering his body in thick, gluey liquid.

“P-please,” Markus whimpered, his whole body rippling of saliva. “Please. Oh my god! I-I can’t- hhaaaaahhh… can’t hold… I don’t wanna-aahhaah… don’t wanna b-be… be devour-… hmmmpphhff. I don’t… I don’t- aaaaAAAaaagggnnhh!” Her licking motion accelerated as he was trying to speak out, depriving Markus of his speech and any clear line of thought. Laleiss made sure his entire mindset was solely focused on surviving and the foreplay she was putting him in – and how agitated he would wriggle inside her beautiful, tortureful mouth. She raised her chin up, drastically increasing the improbability of an escape.

Hard to think straight when straining like you’ve never strained before in the most precarious situation you’ve ever faced. Hard to notice the fact that the demoness had stopped walking and was fully concentrated on you. Hard to see, hard to make sense of it all. So hard to breathe. And so, so hard to wave off the idea that you are, indeed, about to let go, that she is giving your body immeasurable pleasure, that every time she breathes all over you, it sends you the strongest shivers you’ve ever felt before, that when her soft, spongy, hotly wet tongue rolls all over your naked body, licking off your sweat, making you grunt heavily, you are, indeed, fully aroused.

“It’s okay,” Laleiss smoothly, tenderly, ever so slowly whispered to him. “You don’t have to fight.” And then she added, in the most profoundly personal way, a mellifluous murmur: “Just… enter… meeeee...” On this last word, she stretched her mouth wide open, exhaling a wet, deliberate and discomposing “Mlllaaaaaaahh.”

“Gaah! No, no, no, please!” Markus was barely holding himself up from being engulfed in the succubus’ oral cavity: only the tip of his toes were preventing him from falling in there, in that glistening cavern inhabited by a tireless springy, rubbery organ. The latter continually explored his body, and was particularly adamant in returning down to his waist, giving this part of his body a more special and thorough attention. “Oh god, oh god, oh gh-… gh-… gh-gh-ooooAAAAHhh! Hah-haaah!” he moaned loudly, trapped in a frantic roller coaster of feelings, veins popping from his forehead, temples, neck and arms. The demoness was pushing Markus beyond the limits of what his tiny body could endure. Lustfulness filled his being and his body wanted nothing more than to let himself be thoroughly enjoyed by this incredibly alluring being of the infernal realms.

Markus, extenuated and morally vanquished, was losing his mind as his entire field of view was filled by Laleiss’ gaping, terrifyingly fascinating maw and all its specific details: the bottomless dark hole that was her throat, her dangling uvula, the saliva that softly reflected light, the inviting rose and red interior of her mouth, her pulsating tongue that was all over him, her ivory white teeth, the sleek interior of her cheek, her striated palate. Markus did hold his grip for another fair number of seconds, but when her tongue went under his groin and suddenly pushed him way up, he knew he was done. He shared an ultimate gaze with Laleiss’ burning yellow eyes, dominantly, voraciously overlooking him with her eyelids half-closed in anticipation of all the cavalry she was about to put him in, of which she would enjoy every second. She used her magnetic powers to lay him flat on her stretched out tongue, and then Markus felt at this moment she had just released him from her spell. Gravity took hold over Markus’ body and precipitated his whole body down inside the long awaiting and wide open mouth of Laleiss. The latter immediately shut her lips behind her prey, plunging Markus in total darkness.

The succubus didn’t give him time to adjust to his new condition – he would soon learn everything about that matter. Laleiss started by squishing him against her palate, flattening his whole body over her gigantic tongue and extracted a first round of his delicious, sin-coated taste by fervently sucking on him. All Markus could hear was the watery sounds produced by her ever-rubbing tongue and the dripping noise that resulted from the heavy absorption process she was putting him through. A wet sshhfllt ensued when she temporarily released him from the strong suction. Markus extended his hands, trying to find his bearings. He was rewarded with another round of squishing as he was quickly sent up to the roof of her mouth, and then was sucked on even more. “Ughgh ssshhhhhhllllrrrrr ugh ugh- kof kof k- sshhshllrlrlrllllllrr- gnyaaah!” He managed to push down her mighty tongue with all his force and blurted out a barely comprehensible plea: “Wait! W-wait, wait! Please, h-hear me out! M-m-mercy! Mercy, please! Have mercy! Uh-uh-uh-enslave me! Enslave me, yes! Anything, but please, not this! I-I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die! Not again! Let me go, please! PLEASE!”

Laleiss giggled softly, followed by an appreciative moan, savoring his terror. She then replied to him, making him bounce on her tongue as she spoke all over him: “Oh, you’re definitely my slave, now, and you’re most certainly not going anywhere but down... deep...” There was a brief pause, and then the silver-tongued demonic entity pronounced the dreariest of sentences: “You’re all mine. For eternity.”

She swiftly turned his body face up and squished him against her palate again, this time working up his back with her myriads of taste buds. He felt it, her taste buds exploring his body, the pulsating sensation, his bare skin being extremely sensitive to a mere flick of her tongue. She casually flipped him once more, his face strongly impregnated in the spongy flesh of her tongue. While his mind still kept the struggle alive, his body could no longer resist. His muscles abandoned him and he was condemned to suffer the throes of Laleiss. An appalling wave of splashing saliva and tongue swaying enveloped his whole body and not one region of his body was spared of this macabre embrace. On his hands, on his legs, on his face: an army of taste buds tirelessly extracting everything there was to savor about his unique flavor. This game of tongue play lasted for a while, but then Laleiss entered the war room, and she had to temporarily pause his calvary.

Markus, now soaked in sticky saliva, was forcibly pushed under her tongue. This was an unusual place to be, and yet there he was, an immense tongue pushing down on his naked body, slowly drowning him in saliva. He was still vigorous, as his special treatment had just begun, so he would sometimes find a way to barely stick out one arm from his situation, but was always pushed back down with a mere flick of her tongue. She spoke a lot to whoever was in the war room. This didn’t concern him though, as every syllable of her long speeches each ended with a snap of her malleable tongue on him, knocking him and confusing him, rendering all resistance futile. The terribly long meeting an uncertain amount of time, and at that point, Markus was too exhausted to even move. Through unspoken communication, he had eventually reached an agreement with Laleiss’ endlessly shifting tongue: when she was not speaking, he would slightly peak out his head from underneath there to breathe fresher air all the while gently massaging the surface of her tongue with his hands, a gesture she seemed to appreciate as she allowed this little arrangement for the countless hours her meeting lasted. In exchange, he accepted the licking motion that sent him back under her tongue, allowing his hostess to speak without him being in the way. It was a good bargain, for now. As long as she didn’t swallow him, which he feared greatly, and he knew somehow Laleiss was feeding on this perpetual mental state that was slowly driving him mad.

At some point, another soul rolled into the succubus’ mouth, already vastly disoriented. It was all so sudden, Markus’ only reflex had been to crawl back under the tongue and tuck himself there, hiding. He heard all too well a female voice desperately crying for mercy, just like him a while ago. When she passed the lips and was sealed shut in darkness, she began screaming like a banshee. Laleiss hadn’t been gentle to her either: as soon as she had penetrated the confined space of her mouth, the succubus violently squashed the poor soul on her hard palate, and repeated the process in successive slaps, tiring her out to better enjoy her. Meanwhile, Markus didn’t dare move a muscle. So many thoughts rushed to his mind, but only one remained dominant: he did not want to lose his spot, so he stayed put and hoped Laleiss would quickly swallow this unwelcomed guest. Which she surprisingly did. What Markus didn’t know is that the female soul was so dizzied, so lost in the darkness and so agitated, she rapidly rushed to what she thought was the lips of the succubus when she had the chance, attempting an escape. Instead, she slipped on saliva, yelped, knocked her head on a molar, fell face first onto the edge of the squishy soft tongue in a wet shplit and slid head first right into the succubus’ unsuspecting throat. Laleiss, surprised yet amused by this turn of events, was forced to swallow by reflex, muffling a terrorized scream with a sigh of true delight followed by a light, blissful chuckle.

From his point of view, Markus received this event as a warning: he’d better behave, or she will mercilessly send him down for digestion. The wet glurk that echoed in the succubus mouth, as well as another heart-wrenching scream that came from the confines of Laleiss’ body, traumatized him: this was the sound of death, comparable to the falling blade of a guillotine. An irreversible swallowing sound that made it irremediably final. Images of the old man he had literally sent to his death haunted him once more, the horror-filled stare he had shared with him before being swallowed alive, and then the mischievous amber eyes of Zycra, and then the intensely burning, savagely erotic eyes of Laleiss, her gigantic perfectly mature face examining his tiny, tiny human body, measuring his worth, calculating the joy he could give her. He hugged the tip of her tongue tight, thanking the succubus for sparing his miserably profane life. A satisfied, feminine chuckle answered his gesture. Laleiss pressed him hard against her teeth, sensually playing with his small body and stimulating beyond imagination the most receptive areas of his exposed, sin-coated bare skin with her slick, thick tongue. Markus panted and moaned hard as all Hell was breaking loose in Laleiss’ mouth. He was the sole toy of a perpetually horny and torture-driven archdemon, and she wanted to play with him.

After a terribly long session of incredible oral pleasures, of wet and sticky wrestling, silence filled Laleiss’ mouth again, as she went on reading complex military reports, and Markus was allowed back up on her tongue, large and soft like a mattress, and yet all sticky and wet and humid like a swamp. His body was so excited by what he was experiencing and his mind, in a sick yet very human way, had never been so sexually stimulated before. He was hers, her slave, her personal object, a tool - she would use him as long as he would bring her enjoyment, and so Markus ceased to resist and began to accommodate himself with the twisting, lively organ and the particular inclinations of its possessor. He would caress it, spread his arms and legs all over its surface, snug himself comfortably in the middle of his fleshy prison and dance with the vivid tip of her tongue. In Markus’ now corrupted perspective, Laleiss went from hostess to mistress, from gauler to goddess. He had to please her in every way possible, make her feel like he was a worthy slave, a unique slave, one she would rather keep than eat, one she would at least not swallow by accident. If he wanted to last, Markus would have to be submissive and disciplined, accept his fate and become docile and servile like the weak, inferior man he was. Whatever the cost, whatever the time. Indefinitely.

Time, in Hell, is a well-known relative concept.