A (Hell) Maid's Work is Never Done
Angelique
by Maggie Finson
Part 1
Hello all. My name is Angelique, and as the title of this little story hints at, I'm a Hell Maid. And something more. Actually, my transformation from a mortal soul into who and what I am now resulted from a mix-up of sorts. Because not only am I one of those fierce and widely feared (hopefully) stalwart ladies who defend the borders of Hell, I'm also half Succubus.
That came about for reasons that I'll get into later on, and don't blame me for the confusion. A certain troublemaking and delightful little lady named Lorilei is the one you want for that. Although, come to think of it, a lot of folks would like to blame Lorilei for their troubles.
I started out as a human male born quite a while ago (by human standards) with the name Ricardo Esteban De La Court. I grew up in Mexico, and had a fairly normal and happy childhood. Except for the odd object floating through or hurled at walls around the house. Papa had some priests in to try and get the demon, or restless spirit doing those things to go away. None of the prayers or excorcisms had any effect, though every priest who visited tried mightily to get satisfactory results.
You see, I was the problem. Though I didn't realize it at the time, my potential for using magic was so high it knocked the scales with which most active magic users measured such things so out of kilter they were useless. All I knew until I was in my early teens was that I could see colored and textured lines in the air and on objects around me, and was able to nudge them into doing interesting things. Mentioning this little detail to anyone never occurred to me for quite a while, because I thought everyone could do that.
When I did finally mention it to Mama, I was twelve, she paled and shushed me quickly, then cautioned me not to tell anyone else what I had shared with her. At least, not until she could contact some friends of hers to see just how much potential I did have for that kind of thing.
Which is how I met Girard St. Thomas, a dour and frightening Englishman spending some time in our country to wait out a scandal of huge proportions in his homeland. You've heard about Girard before. He was the Black Mage that Lorilei killed, and from whom she got most of her potent magic when she did.
Girard towered over most of the men I knew, and was gaunt almost to the point of emaciation. But he was a friend of Mama's for some reason, and had agreed to look me over and even test my abilities for her. I quite happily, and innocently, moved objects, shifted colors and shapes of other things, and generally played with the lines I saw everywhere I turned my eyes until the strange Englishman stopped me.
"Boy," he growled in his deep, hollow sounding voice as he leaned over me while wiping sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief, "you have more talent for using The Power than anyone I've seen in a very long time. Without training, you'll be a menace to anyone around you."
So began my apprenticeship (more like slavery) to Girard St. Thomas, the black magician. I spent over twenty years under his tutelage and shadow, leaving my family and friends behind to follow him back to England, where others besides Girard would contribute to my education. Education in both academics and magic.
Finally, I became adept enough, and sick enough of Girard's use of my abilities for his own dark purposes, that I was able to break away and begin making a life of my own. Our parting was not amicable, or quiet. In fact, I had to fight my way clear of his dominance with sheer willpower and guts.
Not to mention, clever use of my own greatly enhanced abilities. To say that my former mentor had become an enemy following that break would be playing the situation down. We both swore that the other would die the next time our paths crossed, though neither one of us managed to kill the other in numerous clashes we had before Lorilei put an end to the evil bastard permanently.
My estrangement from Girard and his darker practices also earned me a number of powerful enemies in the Guild of Mages. Those members allied with my former teacher, and others who practiced the same sorts of black arts, took my far from bloodless leave-taking from my teacher and one time mentor as a declaration of open hostilities toward any who delved into the darker side of magic. Yet, even with my youth and relative inexperience, none of those attempted to move against me openly.
I moved on, leaving England behind but taking full degrees from Oxford, and a less well known but equally important school with me. That other, the Hall of Mages, grudgingly accredited me as a full mage once I successfully broke away from Girard, and put me on the official Hall rolls as a Hazard Class Mage. That being the highest rating one with my youth could be given at the time.
Demonology was my strength, considering where most of my training had come from, but I began branching into other disciplines quickly. Alchemy, Transformation magic, Necromancy and Healing were a few of the arts I mastered on my own after leaving England. My new home, in the newly born United States of America, was safely removed from my former master, and the reach of those mages who ran the Hall and its school. At least, I thought it was.
I quite blithely tapped into the powers of Heaven and Hell to work my magics, so was acquainted with both Demons and Angels by the time I had reached my century mark in years. I would like to think that I had been a far gentler master for those I called up, or down, than Girard had been. At least I didn't imprison those who answered my callings, or bind them to me with nearly unbreakable spiritual chains.
Life went on for another century, with my youth spells keeping me young enough to not feel the pangs of age but old enough to command respect from those around me. My ongoing feud with the Hall of Mages, and specifically Girard St. Thomas, had escalated into an almost open war during the last half of the Nineteenth Century, and the first three decades of the Twentieth. I lost track of how many Hall members I either killed or rendered incapable of using magic again, and my few allies had their numbers thinned drastically during that period. Akin to the war between Heaven and Hell, ironically, considering what happened later, our hostilities faded into something of an armed truce from the attrition. Girard and I still glared at one another across the Atlantic, and he threatened while I simply went on with my own business.
Then Lorilei came along. I'd always heard that the family of Succubae were powerful in more than seductions, but had no dealings with that breed of demon to know for myself. What that little beauty did to and with Girard made me see the truth in those tales. I know. I visited Girard's gutted and burnt out citadel some weeks following that incident, and the almost absolute devastation I beheld humbled me. A power far greater than I had done this, and freed all the slaves my former master had collected. That those slaves weren't hanging about or bothering the mortal realms, probably meant that the Succubus had taken them for her own, or actually sent them all home.
That kind of power frightened me badly, and I wasn't the only mage feeling that way just then. Survivors of The Hall of Mages were uncharacteristically quiet even when I was walking their turf, so to speak, in Europe to examine the cataclysmic effects of his death struggle with the Succubus.
So I made one of the few mistakes I had committed during my long life. I relaxed and let down my guard. That mistake proved to be fatal. The Hall holds grudges as tightly as it does its wealth, and for as long. They took advantage of my relaxation with an ambush set up in one of my favorite places to meditate.
There is a small clearing in a forested area high in the Rocky Mountains just below the tree line. A clearing with signs of many old campfires, carefully built and just as carefully extinguished, but no trails leading to it. Isolated, quiet, and very comfortable, it was a place I had often gone to consider weighty matters or just to be alone for a time.
When I arrived there for the last time, my wards appeared intact and undisturbed (they were) and the surrounding forest seemed empty of all but the indigent life it always held (it wasn't). Still, I was uneasy for some reason that I couldn't quite pinpoint. My psychic senses were warning me of nearby danger, but that warning came a little too late. Just as I settled down to consider what I should do about the tingling of unease, a sudden series of psychic shocks rocked my quiet little world.
My wards collapsed with a soul rending wrench, and I staggered to my feet with a defensive spell on my lips and a powerful attack spell ready in my mind.
There were no less than fourteen adepts surrounding my little getaway, over half of the Hall members left active, and all were pouring magic into my protected circle with every ounce of power they could muster.
I cursed myself for not being more thorough in checking the surroundings before I ported in, or heeding my own psychic warnings sooner than I had. That was useless, and I rapidly stopped berating myself for something that had been done and couldn't be changed. My first attack was a fire spell that crisped three of my attackers before they completed their first spells. Good and bad, that. The undirected magic exploded in a wild arching of unrestrained power that further weakened my remaining wards, even as it destroyed another two of my adversaries.
But there were still nine of them left, and I was weakening fast.
Five spells ravaged my already shrunken and depleted wards at once, shaking them to the point of shattering. I could either bolster them, or try a desperate counter to all of those spells. Unfortunately, I wasn't given time. The other four combined in a single united death spell that penetrated my defenses and struck me at near full force. As I blacked out, at least I had the satisfaction of seeing my own spell go into wild magic, and destroy another four of the bastards. Then the darkness engulfed me.
I regained consciousness slowly, groggy and still in shock from the massive death spell that had taken my life. I had no illusions regarding that, I was most definitely dead, but where had my consciousness, my soul, ended up after that? My dulled senses picked up a sickening stench of sulfur, a myriad of moans, screams, and hopeless shrieks mixed with cruel laughter and bellows of Demonic glee. All of which told me where I was. Hell.
I could have screamed in horror, terror, or just plain disgust. Instead, I hunkered down to rest and allow my depleted powers to begin replenishing themselves. One look at my hands, (odd that a disembodied soul should still have hands, isn't it?) showed me to be pale and half gone, even as a soul. That would change in time, as my power regenerated, but for the time I was horribly weak and extremely vulnerable to anything around me.
I'd also made use of quite a few demons through my life, and though I hadn't been cruel about it, I knew most of those temporary slaves had resented it, but put up with obeying my commands in the sure knowledge that one day I would die and find myself in their power. Well, that had come to pass, and I wasn't all that anxious to begin my sojourn in Hell as a weak, pale caricature of myself. So I shrank back into the deeper shadows of the alcove I seemed to have exclusive use of and hoped my wait would be long enough to at least allow me to appear as something more than a washed out, soiled soul when my time came to be taken.
Such a thing was not to be. A rustling of paper at the entrance to the cubicle (hole in the wall?) I occupied alerted me to the presence of a demon that looked more like an old fashioned clerk in some catalogue pickup department. He waggled his overlarge ears (better to hear disparaging comments, I suppose), peered nearsightedly through a pair of pince-nez glasses perched precariously on the end of a rather long, skinny nose, and "Harrumphed!" loudly enough to get anything's attention.
Comparing what he saw (me) with some papers on the very mundane looking clipboard he carried like a badge of office, he nodded in satisfaction and cleared his throat again before intoning in a voice that would have been the envy of every petty bureaucrat that ever lived, "Ricardo Esteban De La Court, it is my duty to inform you that you have been remanded to the precincts of Hell for an undisclosed period in penance for trafficking with demons, practicing black magic, and living well past your allotted span through the use of forbidden magics.
"As such," he droned on, as if reciting by rote (he probably was, but I didn't think it wise to point that out at the time), "There is no appeal other than a direct connection with the Heavenly Powers who have thus sentenced you. Do you wish to appeal this decision?"
"Uh..." I hesitated as the scrawny creature gave me a halfway expectant look, then questioned, "Just how long before my appeal would be heard?"
"Well," he grinned, showing an abundance of crooked, gnarled teeth (with a severe case of halitosis tossed in for laughs) and shrugged, "the appeals list is pretty light just now. I'd imagine you could get in to plead your case in about eight hundred years, give or take fifty."
"Eight hundred years," I grimaced, then added sarcastically, "is that all?"
"Oh, yes," my demon clerk nodded happily, "our new system is so much faster than the way we used to do things. You'd be held here, of course, until your turn came up."
"Of course," I agreed, dryly. "What if I choose to just take my chances down here?"
"Then I should tell you that the agent for your new owner is waiting outside to pick up her merchandise." Giving out what could only be taken as a long suffering sigh, he added with some relish, "I don't think she's pleased with all the paperwork and protocol. Terrible, terrible mood she's in. Been threatening all of us with horrible torments of Hell, as if we weren't already suffering those.
"Truthfully," he added in a confiding whisper, "I'd opt to take my chances, if I were you. Another eight hundred years of waiting won't do a thing to ease her disposition, I can tell you that."
"Lead on," I said, waving to the outside. "If whoever -- whatever -- this creature would be is already in a foul mood, I suppose I'd better get this over with. Another eight centuries will only add to the trouble, once she gets hold of me."
"A wise choice," the clerk agreed sagely, before gesturing to the opening in my hidey hole. "Come along then, and meet one of your new mistresses. And get her out of our hair, while you're at it."
I followed him out of the holding area to stand behind -- you guessed it -- an old fashioned wooden counter with a bewildering variety of demonic types milling about on the other side. Most of whom looked at me very expectantly until the clerk droned out, "Pickup for Lillith is ready, would the Lady's agent please come claim the package?"
The milling throng cast disappointed looks at me, and the clerk (along with numerous growls and curses) then parted as two very large and frightening beings approached the counter. One was a Hell Maid, tall, powerful, armed to the tips of her pointed white teeth, and appearing impatient. Once she stopped a few paces from the counter, something huge placed it's clawed feet (paws?) on her shoulders, reared up on its hind legs while resting a scaled chin on her shoulder, and examined me with menacing yellow eyes. Its forked tongue lolled lazily, and a double pronged tail lashed back and forth with its interest.
'Oh, wonderful,' I thought, 'a Hellhound. With a Hell Maid,' waiting for me, obviously.
I lost some more of my soul's coherence just then, trying to manage my trepidation at the sight of the creatures who were there to collect me. What kind of torments would the two of them come up with to amuse themselves while getting me to wherever I was supposed to end up? I really didn't want to think about that too hard.
"All right," a smooth, sensuous voice interrupted my daunted thought processes, and another creature saucily walked to the fore. She was voluptuous beyond mere mortal comprehension of the word, and so lovely my heart nearly froze before it melted while I took her in. Delicate appearing leathery wings in varying shades of blue furled then unfurled as a barb tipped tail thrashed with what looked to be a will of its own. At least she gave that member an annoyed glance and slapped lightly at it before turning her large, almond shaped blue eyes in my direction. Small, crimson nailed hands planted themselves on luscious hips, and her head cocked quizzically as she watched me watch her. "What's wrong with you? Never seen a Succubus before?"
"No, madam." I tried the polite approach, hoping that would mollify her and in consequence, her vastly amused, but watchful companions. "I never had the honor of dealing with your sisterhood before this."
The vision of hellish beauty snorted in weary disbelief, but she accepted what I'd said at face value while lifting one high heeled, delicate hoof and fastidiously shaking something I'd rather not identify off it with a grimace. She then nodded briskly and motioned toward the Hell Maid and Hellhound with a wicked smile. "Well, you have now, bubba, so get your eye full, then get your poor excuse for a behind over here. Just remember that my two friends would really like to play with you before we get to Lillith. So take my advice and behave."
"Advice taken," I agreed, hurrying as best my depleted state would allow to do as she commanded. "I'll be good."
"Good doesn't enter into it," the Succubus actually laughed, a mesmerizing combination of pure bell like tones and velvety purrs, "considering where we are. I'm Lorilei, Syl, Helga," she gestured gracefully at the Hell Maid, who grinned ferociously while stroking the blade of a large, sharp battle axe slung over her shoulder, then at the Hellhound, who gave me a cheerfully demonic doggie grin but remained silent.
"Now, let's get out of here. I've really had enough of these damned bureaucrats for this century. You don't look like much, De La Court, I sure hope you're worth all this trouble."
So did I. I sensed a vast reservoir of magical power in her, one that was surging with anger, frustration, and curiosity regarding me. I hoped she would rein that in as far as I was concerned. Happily, she did. Then led us straight back to behind the counter.
"Uh, Lorilei," the Hellhound growled very carefully, then turning its awful head in another direction than the one we were heading, "the way out is over there."
"There is a portal right over there," she answered, pointing to a dark recess in the huge wall that my cubby hole had been hollowed out of, "and I intend to use it right now."
"What if the clerks here won't let you?" the Hellhound persisted, then winced as Lorilei hissed and grinned very evilly.
"I hope they try and stop us," she grated out, still proceeding directly to a space well behind the counter and its milling throng of Hell's minions. "I'm ready to give someone something to remember me by around here. A nice big hole in their precious wall where one of those idiot clerks was standing would do a lot to soothe my jangled nerves just now."
"Hey, you there!" an officious clerk screeched as he barred our way to the supposed exit with a scowl. "This is for gate personnel and official business only. You'll have to go the other way."
"Official business?" Lorilei purred in growing pleasure, as the stubborn target to be insisted on blocking her path. "Shall I tell Lady Lillith that some numb dicked clerk held up delivery on a soul she specifically sent me to collect in all haste? Or should I just blow you to one of the lower slime pits and walk on through?
"Of course, you could just let us pass," she grinned wickedly, and I felt the buildup of power in her small frame. Inanely, I wondered how such a petite, delicate frame could contain so much of it without sizzling, crackling, and glowing like radioactive waste on a dark night. Evidently, the clerk noticed too, because his normally bright red complexion went hot pink, and the bluster left him like a sailor leaving Saturday night's love on Sunday morning.
"All right, go on then," he grumbled, then straightened and attempted to glare at the diminutive hellion facing him. "But don't think you've heard the end of this!"
"If I do hear any more," Lorilei promised sweetly, "I'll be sure to come let you know personally."
The clerk blanched, a pretty good trick considering white was not a dominant color in his complexion, and scuttled out of the way.
"Okay, let's go," the Succubus said, glancing at the portal. It looked like just another cubbyhole to me; she nodded, ran a small, lovely hand across one of the stones, then gestured for the rest of us to enter the arch. "It's set for Home. Move it, everyone."
I shrugged (to myself, anyway) and walked into the arch. Darkness, multi-colored sparks and a feeling of disorientation took me in a maw determined to mix and shake me until my internal organs (if I had any just then) exchanged places with each other, then deposited me in the last kind of place I would have expected to see in Hell.
I was staring in open wonderment and no little bemusement at a panorama stretching farther than I could see. What the place looked like was an immense, well tended park in the late stages of spring blossoming. After the sulfurous atmosphere in the receiving/waiting area I had awakened in, the sweet floral scents wafting to me on a soft, warm breeze were heavenly. But I knew I wasn't in Heaven, unless I considered all the lovely, voluptuous ladies milling about and expectantly watching the very portal I had come out of.
"Move that skinny butt out of the way!" a strong female contralto bellowed in my ear, completely ruining any fantasies I had been conjuring. That was accompanied by a powerful shove from behind, and I stumbled forward to land in a tangled heap on the green lawn-like grass several yards beyond the portal.
The Hell Maid strode past me with a disdainful little sniff and an almost pitying expression on her lovely, if daunting face. The Hellhound loped up, stopped to sniff at me experimentally, then licked at my face before offering another doggish grin and loping off to join the Hell Maid, Syl.
A cute (?) little female imp clothed like a little girl skipped up with a wide smile marring the little girl image with its mouthful of wickedly sharp teeth and cheerfully lisped out in a sing-song voice, "Oh, boy, are you in for a BIG thurprise, thweety!"
Finally, the Succubus, Lorilei regally stalked to stand beside where I had tumbled with a shake of head that had her lustrous chestnut mane teasing suggestively at more parts of her anatomy than I could have described without going into instant lust. Letting out a long suffering sigh, she gestured for me to get back on my feet and follow her. "Come on, Meat, Lillith is waiting down there, and let me tell you, SHE isn't one you want to have even a little upset with you. Especially not around here."
Meat. She called me Meat, capitalized no less; I could tell from her inflections. Did that mean I was to be nothing more than a feedbag for the collected group of Demonesses? Calmer thoughts intruded with the notation to my frantic, fearful ape brain, that Lorilei wouldn't have warned me to hurry so as not to irritate Lillith if I had been brought in as food. It wouldn't have mattered if I angered Satan himself (well, maybe in that case...) if that's all I was meant to be.
I jumped to my feet, showing more energy than I had up to that point, and regarded the amused, half surprised look in Lorilei's gorgeous, vertically pupiled eyes. "Well, well, maybe there is more to you than I first thought, little one. Let's get going. You have some people to meet and some things to do before you can get any rest."
"Coming, Lady," I replied, with some relief in discovering there had been plans made for me that didn't include becoming food for what I knew could turn out to be a clan of ravenous Succubae. "Let's not keep Lillith waiting."
"Mother Lillith, to you," Lorilei responded, then gave me a grin that was far from reassuring, but beat the you know what out of the scowl I'd seen her giving those poor clerks earlier. "And to everyone else here at Home except maybe Mama herself.
"Never mind," she shrugged at my questioning expression while we approached the gathered group of female Demons. "You'll find out soon enough."
I wasn't sure whether to be glad or worried about that. But the sheer awe I felt as the gathered beauties formed a ring of delectable female flesh around us soon had me forgetting any worries I might have harbored. Belatedly, I realized that I'd let some damned stupid masculine reactions blind me to what was actually going on, and I very reluctantly (really stupid male and masculine reactions) pulled my eyes away from the rainbow of colorful and luscious females surrounding me to find a slightly taller one with fiery red hair, powerful green eyes, and scarlet wings shifting at her shoulders regarding me with no small amusement.
"This," Lorilei supplied formally (and needlessly; even if I hadn't dealt with the Succubae as a mage, I had heard of Lillith, and had her described to me), "is Mother Lillith."
Turning her lovely gaze toward Lillith, the lesser Succubus gestured at me with one small hand while the other idly held her tail, which seemed determined to insert itself into her exposed sex. "And this, Mother, is what was left of Ricardo Esteban Del a Court."
"Hello, Senor Del a Court," Lillith greeted me with a rich feminine tenor that had my nerve endings twitching with barely suppressed lust from my ears all the way to my curling toes. "Welcome to Home.
"This place's name," she supplied at my confused look, then returned her attention to Lorilei. "Well, there's much more involved with this one than I expected to get. But you spotted that right away, didn't you, dear daughter?"
"Yep," Lorilei nodded, then fixed a predatory look and grin on me that made me shudder while longing to let her have her way with me. "That's why I hustled everyone back here. He's recharging at a pretty good rate."
"Yes, he is." Ignoring the lack of honorific from a lesser succubus (which had me rapidly reestimating the status of that messenger, or what I had taken to be a messenger and delivery girl), she continued, "Well, we may as well get this thing started. You do the honors, Lorilei."
"Me?!!" The lovely, powerful, creature who had collected me at The Gates of Hell appeared surprised and a bit doubtful. "But I..."
"You'll do fine, dear daughter," Lillith assured her, with a fond smile. "Mama and Syl will help with some of the input you'll need to get the results we want. Now, don't argue, this is something that you deserve and can do with your eyes closed."
"If you say so." Lorilei shrugged, then nodded while favoring me with a soft, sexy grin that had my heart doing its best to hammer out of my chest and land in her pretty little hand. "Come on, Ricardo. Come to me. You'll enjoy this part, I promise."
Something else was working very hard to attract attention too, my manly rod was standing at attention so hard it was painful. Too late, I understood that I had lost caution, volition, and any chance I might have had to bargain my way out of whatever was planned. Let me tell you, a Succubus could stop a charging rhino in its tracks if she really wanted to, and the rhino was male. Every physical part of me (how could I have a physical being in Hell? No matter, I wasn't worried about that little detail just then) strained toward the inviting, sexually charged embrace she offered with a seductive smile.
"Come to me, Ricardo," she crooned, making my name into a musical wonder while gently beckoning with hands, eyes, and her very active tail. There was nothing at all gentle about my attraction, I had about as much chance of pulling away from her mesmerizing call as an iron filing has of running away from a magnet. Less, even.
Wearing a stupid grin that stretched out my mouth to unreasonable proportions, I quite happily went to her without a thought. Part of me, the cold analytical piece that had made me such a natural at sorcery, was screaming for me to run and hope for the best. The rest of me had no intention at all of running, but also hoped for the best. Getting laid by a Succubus in her home territory was an experience my animal instincts just couldn't resist.
"I promise to be the best lay you've ever had," she crooned in triumph as I eagerly embraced her while she was pulling me to lie on top of her lush, softly curved and incredibly inviting body. "This will be a lovemaking that you'll never forget."
Brother, was she right! Looking back, I sometimes curse myself for falling into her clutches so easily, but believe me, there was nothing I could have done to prevent it from happening. Not when every fiber of my being tingled with her mingled scent and presence openly inviting me to partake of the wonderful treasure between her wide spread legs.
Even now, I still go weak at the knees and find myself breathing a bit hard whenever I call up those memories. Now, I had been no virginal, monkish character in my life, and had experienced sexual play with some of the finest courtesans in history. Not one of those fine ladies could so much as stand in Lorilei's shadow when it came to pleasing a man sexually, though given what my Hellishly gorgeous seductress was and how she fed herself, that should have been no real surprise.
Lorilei engulfed me, teased me, played me like a well tuned instrument, and so many other descriptive superlatives that I won't bore you by listing them all. Hell disguised as Heaven, I had heard these creatures described as. Those descriptions were all true, if somewhat lacking the full impact of actually having a succubus give her entire attention to you. My Go...(Oops, Syl has told me not to swear like that anymore, or she would do her level best to beat me into a quivering pulp.) Anyway, you should get the idea by now.
Wrapped in her soft arms, legs, tail and wings, I felt her heat filling me with something equally powerful. So powerful, in fact, that I barely noticed what was slipping away from me each time I orgasmed and shot my seed into her ravenous belly. Or what was creeping in to replace what was being taken. I have no idea of how long our sexual gymnastics went on. It could have been eternity, a mere century, or bare moments. No matter, I was in pure, unadulterated ecstasy the entire time.
When we finally ran out of energy, (at least, I was drained) our wings pulled back and folded against our shoulders, our tails loosed their loving embrace and we reluctantly pulled apart. Exhausted, I recall wondering, 'Tails? Wings?' in plural, not as a single person's, but was far too spent to have the strength to consider the implications of that.
"Sleep well, Sister Angelique," Lorilei fondly smiled down at my still supine form. "You are going to be something to behold when you wake up. I'll be here to help when you do awaken."
The last thing I really remember about that time was Lorilei leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on my forehead. Then I floated quite comfortably into warm, soothing darkness while desultorily wondering who exactly Angelique was.
My dreams were chaotic and uncomfortable during that sleep. I first saw myself wielding an old fashioned broadsword that was alternately red with flames or blue/white with the sheen of ice against foes that could be nothing less than Angels and their minions. They fell to my sweeping, potent strokes like grass to a lawn mower, and others scattered in fear. I shouted my victory scream, a piercing lovely warbling in a low soprano range, and slowed my breathing so the metal armor I wore wouldn't chafe my heaving breasts through the tough but supple leather I wore under it.
In another I was flying. Really flying, using wings that beat strongly with the flex of muscles in my chest, shoulders and back. The sword, named Heaven's Bane, was secured to my back, between the out-thrust of wings and I had no intention or need of using it then. Instead, I glared at the approaching phalanx of flying Angels, and mouthed the words to a spell. A darkly glistening sphere emerged from my outstretched hands to instantly enlarge and engulf the group of Angels who were my mortal enemies.
Their beauty died within that terrible sphere, unlike any spell I had ever used or been familiar with as a Human sorcerer. Withered husks rained upon the chaos field of heaving battle below as the hated enemies fell before me.
Next I saw myself naked and welcoming a Human male into my heated embrace, and self. I took something from him in our coupling, not enough to really harm, but very satisfying regardless. Sated, I pulled away from his relaxed, slumbering form and watched with interest as his nearly pure soul grew a little gray around the edges, while tinges of azure and silver shot through the darkening parts. I knew that male would be mine forever if I chose to claim him fully, and took familiar satisfaction in the knowledge.
"Angelique," a firm, strong, but feminine voice interrupted my uneasy dreams. "It's all right, sweet, don't be afraid of these visions. Rest quietly now."
I did. Until awakening to a plethora of unfamiliar sensations crowding my mind for immediate attention. My breasts were a little sore from being lain on while I was asleep, and their nipples tingled with the pain and pleasure of the feeling.
Breasts?!
Wait a second here! My muddled brain searched for the highly unfamiliar feeling of two large, soft objects attached to my chest, quivering and moving with every small change of position I made. And found them.
A low moan escaped my swollen feeling lips as other areas of my vastly altered body began reporting in. My hips were broader, with thighs farther apart than my body memory allowed for. There was nothing at all between them, either. At least, nothing I was personally familiar with possessing. Thick, silvery strands of soft hair obscured my vision as I painfully forced myself to sit up.
Stars filled my vision as very abused body parts urgently complained about the motion. I felt as if I had literally been taken apart and rebuilt to very different specifications than the original. Everything ached, on top of feeling out of synch. Mentally uttering a prayer (I know, I know, no more cussing like that, but this is telling my story) I forced myself to look down at my chest. And beheld two huge, gorgeous mounds of creamy flesh tipped with erect azure nipples.
"Yep," I told myself quietly, cautiously. "Those are female breasts, all right."
My hesitant exploration continued with hands that were both smaller and stronger than mine had been before, running themselves down my slender waist and over the sudden outward curve of lush hips and bottom. "Hips and ass, too," I muttered distractedly, while my hands slowly neared my crotch.
I gasped in involuntary and reluctant pleasure as the fingers of one hand parted fleshy lips between my legs, then pushed into a moist, warm recess. I yanked my hand away from something that burned my sense of self as if it had been a white hot coal.
"That can't be what I think it is," I whispered, noticing as I did that my voice sounded a great deal different, too. Higher, and lilting with a musical accent that was really very appealing. Hesitantly, I returned to what was between my legs -- with the other hand that time, in case the first had been lying to me.
It hadn't.
"Well," taking a steadying breath, I considered things, after shifting to release a pair of attachments to my shoulders that pulled painfully while I was sitting on them. And a third part of me that sprang free in joyful abandon and began teasing at my crotch. The latter was a tail, flexible and ending with a barbed tip that was currently manipulating my nether regions with lascivious intent. I slapped it away, wincing as pain shot through my backside, but it left those foreign parts alone after I did.
"Hmmm," I muttered in a breathy little sigh, while thinking furiously. "If it has tits, ass, and a warm slit between its legs, it must be a woman." Something in that logic was very disturbing, until my frazzled mind recalled that I had been examining myself. The logic went from merely disturbing to traumatic.
"Which must mean that...I...Have...Become...A...Female," my voice reluctantly acknowledged what my brain had already decided. "Oh, no they don't!"
Briefly considering my options, I tried some shape changing magic that I had known as a Human. It worked. Sort of. I was different, but still apparently female, and when my concentration faltered I returned to what must have been my default body setting. You know, the one with wings and a tail.
Now, I ask you. What would you have done under the circumstances? The last thing I remembered was being male and having the most fantastic sex in my long experience. Then I awaken as a female. Be honest, here. How would you have handled such a thing?
Running over several options, I settled on the one that seemed to be the most productive of the weak ideas I had formed. Drawing in a deep breath (that caused my newly inflated chest to heave) I gathered myself for the effort, opened my mouth wide, and screamed bloody murder.
Then did it again, and again. And again, until I was getting a sore throat.
But kept going, anyway. I'd built up a head of very hysterical steam, and wasn't about to let go of it until I subsided into mute inability to holler any more.
TG magic transformation punishment consequence deals bizarre body modifications
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