****
Downstairs in Castle Briarwood's grand dining hall, the bulk of the Templar were sitting down to eat. Bread and stew was their usual meal, and that evening seemed to be little different. Exhausted and hungry after a hard day of training and work, few of the holy warriors noticed the slowly building smell of male musk in the vaulted hall.
"This smell funny to you?" Brenn, a Templar knight, asked the others at his table after he was served his stew.
One man shrugged, while another simply said, "Tastes fine." A third looked as if he was going to speak, but held his tongue and took another sip.
Brenn grunted noncommittally, and took a slurp from his spoon. The taste surprised him at first; rich, creamy and far more savory than the watered-down stuff he was used to. "Must be more meat..." he mused, setting into the tasty meal. Before he'd even noticed the passage of time, he'd emptied the bowl and was licking the inside of it. Embarrassed, the Templar caught himself in the act and set his bowl down, though he couldn't resist the urge to lick his lips clean instead of dabbing them dry with his napkin.
"Mmm... that was the best meal I've had all week." Brenn said.
"That was amazing. I feel like I'm starving still..." another person at his table said, nodding at him.
"Me too. I'm so hungry I could eat m' own saddle..." another knight said, gazing forlornly at the passage leading to the kitchens.
"They said they've more to serve, thank the heavens." A female Templar said, wiping beads of sweat from her brow. "And a good thing, too."
"Really?" Brenn said, spinning around trying to see for himself.
"They do? Then why's it takin' so bloody long?" Someone interjected.
More stew arrived at the table, carried by younger Templar who were sweating and shaking nervously as they ladled it out. Brenn barely noticed though, consumed as he was by his hunger. He ate seconds and then thirds, sopping up the excess residue with a hunk of bread and then running his tongue along the bottom of the bowl to lick up any excess he'd missed. After setting his bowl aside for the third time, Brenn shook his head and used his untouched napkin to clean the sweat from his face. For some reason he felt really warm, a feeling that was only magnified by how close he was sitting to the others at his table. Which was odd in a way, because they hadn't been so cozy earlier... and come to think of it, why did everyone look so big..?
Brenn half-saw the servers slithering around the tables with eerie, wave-like ululations, and noticed that the musk-like smell in the room was suddenly much, much stronger. His thoughts and worries vanished when a plate piled high with mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, slabs of ham and an assortment of braised vegetables was set before him. Brenn dove into it as though he'd been starved for days, hungry enough he took no note of neither the opulent feast nor the strange creatures serving it. His utensils felt weak and small in his hands, and he quickly discarded them in favor of simply shoveling food into his mouth, or eating it right off his plate. The other knights around him seemed to be in much the same state...
More food was piled before him and the feasting continued. Brenn felt his boots, shirt and pants shrink as he kept eating, until he grew right through the binding garments. He grunted as he felt his toes- strangely long and hard- grew through the front of his shoes, and the back of his pants began to feel cramped...
"Rrrgagh!" A knight next to him growled, tearing off part of his shirt with a clawed hand. The garment looked ridiculously small on his growing frame, which bulged with toned, red-scaled muscles. Across from him, a woman had her face buried into a bowl of stew, lapping it up with a long tongue. When she pulled the bowl away to lick her lips, Brenn saw that her face jutted out into a snout and muzzle, and scales were rapidly spreading down her throat. Yet the only worry that crossed his mind was the off chance there wouldn't be enough to eat. Brenn was so absorbed in gnawing every last scrap of tender meat off the bone he ignored the uncomfortable, building pressure in his backside and kept on eating. Even when he felt the growth start putting a strain on the seat of his pants, he couldn't think about anything besides fulfilling his hunger...
"Grrghr-" *RIIIIIIP* "-rrrgh!" Brenn roared, setting down the stripped drumstick as the pressure became too much for his pants to bear, and the fabric ripped open, freeing his tail. The knight felt his new appendage unfurl like a flag, slapping against the back of his bench as it continued to grow larger and thicker. Growling with pleasure, he spread his legs apart so it could grow easier and picked up another turkey leg, tearing a huge bite from it with his sharpening teeth...
At another table, a woman named Meredith watched her fellow Templar eat with ravening abandon. The lancer had been stuffing herself with slabs of ham and bread, and only became conscious of her changes when she cleared her plate. She felt the weight of something alien on her back, and felt the... things... twitch amidst the tattered remains of her shirt. Her brassier had long since snapped, but she saw no reason to worry. Her broad chest was flat, free from the breasts the brassier had been holding up.
Meredith looked up to see a server in front of her, stacking her plate back up with a trio of game hens and huge scoops of greens and fried bacon.
"Enjoy asss much as you wish..." the frill-necked server said, bowing before her. It was only when he was slithering away that Meredith noticed that the tip of the creature's tail seemed to be oozing a thick but transparent liquid. At first confused, the lancer felt a sympathetic throb between her legs, from her small but growing cock...
All around the dining hall, other Templar were succumbing to similar changes. Massive tails rent the back of their pants open, and scales swept over their bodies as the Knights succumbed to their unnatural hunger. Few of the changing Templar bothered removing their clothes and simply grew out and through them as they transformed. Knights pushed themselves away from their tables and fell down to all fours as they finished changing into full dragons, their eyes yellowing and minds clouding with lust. Every last one of the converted was a male, with a hefty dragonshaft hanging between their legs and an instinctual need to mate and be mated...
A group of late arrivals who hadn't been corrupted by the first course tried to flee from the dining hall when they saw what was taking place, but they were outnumbered and quickly overpowered. The dragons knocked them to the ground and mated the smaller humans, or forced them to suck their cocks until they too began to change. A group of knights still fighting back were torn from their clothing and then surrounded by a pack of dragons that growled at them with inhuman mirth.
"N-no! Templar, resist the corruption! Strength! Do not fall!" one of the stragglers tried to protest, as the dragons corralled them tighter.
"Brothers, DON'T-" another said, before a huge geyser of tainted cum from one of the server's enormous tail-cocks drenched him and the others. The hot seed tingled on his skin, and soon scales were pushing out all along their arms and legs...
"Don't resissst... you'll enjoy it more..." the snake-like server hissed.
The great feasthall echoed with the roars, grunts, hisses and growls of a draconic orgy. The Templars reveled in their new forms, so consumed by demonic lust they cared only to mate and be mated. They rolled onto their bellies and sucked upon each other's cocks, mounted and cummed into one another great, shuddering trains; a few of the more lustful of the converts even grew so bold as to wrestle their snake-like servers to the ground before mating them, or fucking their tight, hot cockslits as if they were tail-holes. By the time Ailsythus entered- accompanied by Tilydos and Sephyros- not a single human remained untainted by his power.
"Excellent," The demon lord said, taking a deep, rejuvenating breath of the sex-charged air, before turning to leave. "Now, the time has come to seize the castle!"
****
They hadn't listened to him, of course.
Nemeron was hardly surprised; it was a rare individual who both wanted to be his apprentice and also followed instructions uncritically. And so he was left to talk to his least favorite person in all of Castle Briarwood- Lord Cellius Byralt, the Templar who also happened to be his superior- with all three of his apprentices hiding behind him like naughty schoolchildren. In truth though, he felt the very same tension in the air. There was something unnatural afoot, something that made his skin crawl.
"My lord," Nemeron said, investing the title with as little respect as he could muster. Byralt loved his formalities as much as the High Magus distained them. "What I am trying to say is, there may be something dangerous brewing within these hallowed halls. It would be wise to investigate thoroughly."
"Is that all you have to offer us, Nemeron?" Jeran asked. The magus sighed, and shook his head. "We are dealing with urgent matters; we don't have time to worry about some vague hunch you had."
"It is no mere 'hunch'. There is instability in the very weave of the reality around us, growing at this very moment," Nemeron said, withdrawing his arcanometer from his robe pocket and setting it down on the High Lord's table with a little more force than was entirely appropriate. "If you cannot feel it in your bones, see with your eyes."
Elitar, another magus, stared at the wildly-swinging needle of the compass-like arcanometer and tapped his chin. "Odd. When did you last calibrate the device?"
"That question is irrelevant. The last time I calibrated it I did so properly; if it was malfunctioning it would have lost its rhythm, in any case," Nemeron replied.
"I feel it, too," Nicholas said, soft enough Nemeron wasn't sure whether or not the other magi had heard him. Neither Eliter nor Jeran seemed terribly interested in any case, which was vexing him to no end.
Byralt sat in his chair and listened, offering no comment. Nemeron knew that the High Lord had about as much respect for him as a reprobate mule.
"Nemeron, I appreciate you voicing your concerns but right now we are occupied with pressing business. If peace does not come to the Southern Reaches soon, we will be caught between the press of the armies at war," Lord Byralt said, standing up and gesturing towards the door of his council room. "Even though I doubt any would dare to attack Briarwood, we would be unable to fulfill our sacred obligation to purge demonkind from the world while they fight around us. Leave, and return after..."
Suddenly, a Templar burst into the council chambers. He huffed for breath, clutching his sword tight between his plate-armored hands. "My lord! Demons! Demons have breached the castle!"
"You don't say?" Nemeron said, raising an eyebrow.
"Demons, in here?" Jeran repeated, scoffing. "Surely you joke! Did some initiate mistake a rabid wolf for-"
Suddenly, a red glow began to pour through the cracks around the door. The thick wooden door burst apart in a shower of splinters, and through the threshold stepped the walking abomination that was Ailsythus. A legion of dragonkin and twisted demons poured into the antechamber leading to the council room proper, met by the swords and shields of Lord Byralt's guards...
"It's a gods-be-damned demon, you idiots!" Nemeron shouted. "You aren't going to scratch it without enchanted weapons!"
"Nemeron, what are you saying!?" Lord Byralt thundered. "Does your cowardice know no bounds? Attack! Destroy them!"
Ailsythus laughed menacingly as red-lit energy swathed his body. His enormous wings twitched as he channeled his magic into them, before shuddering, and then exploding out into two tangles of writhing cock-tentacles. They stretched to impossible length, ensnaring and tripping up every Templar who was close to him, before more slimy tentacles sprouted from his upper back and slithered through their armor. The men and women caught by Ailsythus struggled and pulled against the strength of his countless tentacles, but were quickly subdued as he plunged his legion of cock-headed tentacles into every ass and cunt he could find, ripping the virginity from many of them with a loud hiss of ecstasy...
"Aaarhg!"
"Gngh!"
"Ooooh!"
"M-mercy!"
"Help!"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa-"
The cacophony of cries were cut off as more tentacles slithered into their mouths, pumping corrupting demon-cum into their mouths.
Other Templar who had been ensnared but managed to escape or hack away the cock-heads before they were penetrated were set upon by feral dragonkin and the demon's unspeakably perverse minions.
The sheer fury of the demon's assault made Nemeron feel like his heart was going to burst in his chest. The demon's servants overpowered their former friends and tore their armor apart before forcefully raping them... no. It did not take long for the Templar under attack to succumb to the corrupted juices being sprayed over them, and the overpowering musk that the sex-crazed creatures gave off. Soon they were all too willing participants in their own conversation. Nemeron backed away as a demonic serpent with the head of a great wyrm slithered past the crumbling defenders and raised a tail tipped with a blood-red cockhead towards them...
"Watch out!" Analisa screamed, pushing past her master and raising her staff. The young magus conjured a blast of fire right as the demon's phallic tail began to spurt a volley of seed towards them; the magic disintegrated the sticky salvo, but barely singed the creature's scales.
"My Lord," Nemeron said, taking in his breaths slow and deep to keep from panicking. "As I was saying... I believe it would be best for us to make a tactical retreat and engage the creatures in force once we understand more. We do not even know their True Nature, their weaknesses; it would be the utmost folly to commit ourselves to an attack prematurely..."
"Templar, to me! Jeran! Elitar! Protect the men!" Byralt yelled, drawing his sword as he charged into the fray.
"Yes, High Lord!" They both replied.
"W-W-What are they!? What's happening, master!?" Nicholas asked, tugging on the hem of Nemeron's robe as he tried to hide behind him.
"We are in great danger! As a demon's corruption spreads, so does its power. Demons of slaughter and death are capable of ghastly deeds, but they rarely spread far or wide. The minions of a pleasure demon, on the other hand..." Nemeron's voice trailed off.
"Master Nemeron; what should-" Nicholas began to ask,
"Retreat, regroup, and think! Come, quickly! Quickly!" Nemeron shouted, hustling his apprentices towards the back wall of the council room. "Nicholas! Analisa! Barrier!"
"Yes, master!" the apprentices said, raising a wall of magical energy around them.
Secure for the moment, Nemeron focused his mind on the words and gestures of an apportation spell, and teleported the four of them to safety through the thick stone wall...
...just in time to avoid the space-distorting blast of a disjunction incantation thrown towards them by Ailsythus himself. "Ahhh... a clever one," the demon lord said, shaking his head. "No matter! TEMPLAR! BOW TO YOUR NEW MASTER!"
Ailsythus drew both of his hands together in an explosive clap, and then worked his claws into a complicated pattern of spirals and whorls that would have driven mortal minds to madness if any had been cognizant enough to study the symbols. The red glow of demonic magic on his hands traced bright trails through the air, solidifying into shapes that seemed to burn into the firmament of reality as he worked the spell. The Templar guarding the room- those still possessed of their own unsullied minds and bodies- made a desperate attack on the demon, but gained not an inch of ground before he was finished...
Every torchlight, candle and lantern in the room was snuffed out as the demon lord spoke the last blasphemous syllable, and the very firmament of reality shook ominously. A red-lit crack appeared mid-air over the great conference table in the middle of the council room, and then burst into a screaming vortex in a fiery flash of light. When the unholy radiance dimmed, the vortex was gone. In its place was an orange-red gateway that grew and shrank like a beating heart. The edges of the floating gateway shimmered where it intersected reality, and then another brilliant flash of magic solidified the edges portal into an enormous golden, ruby-encrusted frame that appeared to hold a void blacker than the mere absence of light...
The black portal rippled as glowing red eyes appeared inside it, followed by a set of curled horns and a muzzle lined with flesh-tearing teeth. An equally horrific body appeared behind the visage, armored with spines and scales, armed with claws and talons. The demon leapt from the portal onto the surface of the conference table, scattering paper and ink everywhere. Eight others followed the first, screeching, roaring and screaming in blood-lust as the unnatural creatures savored the tangibility of the material plane.
"WHO DARE CALLSSS THE SERVANTS OF ARMAGETHERON?" the first demon yelled, its glowing eyes narrowing with suspicion as it looked upon the ongoing battle. Strangely, it and its ilk seemed confused by their sudden arrival, and made no motion to join the fray.
"Armagetheron is no more; I am Ailsythus. But your loyalty, my minions, shall be rewarded," Ailsythus boomed from the front of the room, gesturing towards the newly summoned demons with his clawed hand. Strands of black magic snaked from his open palm and towards the demons, insubstantial at first but gaining coherence as they traveled...
The demons writhed in confusion as their master's magic wrapped around their bodies, turning their red skin into dark black scales and causing wings to burst from their backs with the spray of foul ichor... though within seconds the foul-smelling ichor dissolved away. Their tails grew longer and thicker, swelling out into massive cocks, while their tongues transformed into double-shafted reptilian penises as well, spewing seed down their scaly chests. The demons convulsed in place as they orgasmed repeatedly from their newly-grown members, sending sticky juices sloshing all across the council table.
"Rrghgh!" One of the transformed growled, raising its tailcock high and then forcefully shoving it up its own tail-hole. "All glory to Lord Ailsythusss!"
With the enemy behind and before them, the remaining Templar quickly gave ground to the demons. Jeran and Elitar wove protective spells and cleansed the corruption from the souls of their brethren as quickly as they could, but even their combined efforts were not enough to cover all of the defenders. Worse still, even the knights equipped with magical weaponry and enchanted armor found it impossible to score fatal wounds. Lord Byralt decapitated one of the demonic snakes with a mighty swing from his blade, only to see the beast turn into a cloud of shadows and ashes that mocked him with silent laughter as it began to reform, scale by scale. The Templar were beaten back into a smaller and smaller area, though the frantic efforts of the magi kept them the demons from finishing them off...
Ailsythus turned his attention to Jeran and Elitar, battering their defenses with countermagic until they collapsed in exhaustion, and then blowing their barrier spell apart with a disjunction. Stripped of their magical protection, the demon lord had the nettlesome Templar right where he wanted them. A flash of heatless magic disintegrated their staves; a second blew their robes and underclothes into nothing. "Magic isss a dangerous pursuit for humanssss, is it not? Your discipline isss most impressive..." Ailsythus hissed, weaving a powerful transformation spell around them both. "But let me show you what pleasure your power can offer, properly tapped..."
"Aaaaarrrgh! Elitar!" Jeran screamed, as the demon's magic pulled him and Elitar together. The mages struggled mightily as Ailsythus laughed and flooded their bodies with demonic magic, but their efforts were entirely in vain.
"Stop... this... aaaaghng!" Elitar yelled, as found himself falling over Jeran in a tangle of limbs. The Templar they had been protecting tried to help them, but the arcane energy surrounding them gave off a blazing heat that forced them away, though it didn't even singe the bare skin of either magus. They found themselves squeezed together side, struggling mightily even as their skin melted together. The sensation burned at first, but slowly became intensely pleasurable...
Stuck together side by side, a most curious transformation seemed to be overtaking the Templar mages. Above where they were stuck together, their skin was flushed red and soaked in sweat but not much changed. Below, their bodies were quickly merging together and becoming draconic. legs were growing in fits and starts, muscles and bones swelling with strength. Green seeped into the color of Elitar's pale skin and Jerna's tanned flesh, and then diamond-shaped dragonscales emerged from their flesh in prickling waves...
Jeran and Elitar moaned pitifully as their lower bodies continued to grow. A series of traumatic cracks and pops echoed through the vaulted council chamber as their legs stretched apart, becoming a set of hindpaws and forepaws. Their backsides merged fully, Jeran's right cheek and Elitar's left melting together and splicing their spines. A broad tail began to grow from the warped flesh before scales even formed on their rump...
The magi cried out simultaneously as their struggling made their erect cocks slap against one another, the hot, hard flesh sticking together between their four legs. As talons sprouted from their sprawling, still-growing feet, Jeran and Elitar's testicles twitched and merged, forming a four-balled sack. Their testicular sack dropped low as it swelled up with corrupted seed, but as the transformation overtook their merging shafts something very strange happened. The conjoined phalluses twitched up against their lower belly and stuck there, turning into a thick tube that grew higher and higher...
"No... no..." Jeran moaned softly. Elitar blinked slowly, and could not find the strength to speak. Lord Byralt and his Templar stared in shock; Ailsythus and his demons watched with glee. None watching the bizarre sight seemed able to take their eyes away from it...
Elitar felt the merged cockflesh that belonged to both him and his fellow magus split apart, one fork pushing up into his belly, the other into Jeran's. Their massive four-balled sack twitched beneath their draconic lower half, and he felt a sudden heat in his stomach, a heat that only grew stronger as it merged with the phallic tube pushing through his innards. Elitar hugged himself with shaking hands, feeling a surreal but indescribably powerful pleasure all over his body...
Jeran, staring at Elitar, watched as the other magus began to hug and rub his own body, his flesh becoming slimy as slick as it turned a brighter shade of red. Ghostly tingles of sexual pleasure washed through him as his body-mate touched himself, and the temptation to join him became nearly irresistible. "Stop..." he moaned, shivering. "Elitar... s-stop..."
"Can't..." Elitar replied, eyes unfocusing as ecstasy washed through him. He shook his head, hair falling from it as the phallic tube grew through his belly and into his throat, making it bulge outwards in a sick parody of a swallowing motion before a gush of gooey, clear fluid spurted from his mouth. Elitar anxiously wiped it away from his lips and tried to spit it away, but neither magus could mistake the horribly potent pleasure running through their changing bodies, nor the powerful musk that came from the juices pouring from Elitar's mouth...
They mages trembled with horror and pleasure both as their transformation neared its end, their long, thick tail lashing behind them as the changes continued. Their arms shrank away as their upper bodies elongated and barreled out, growing sturdier and stiffer even as their bones melted away. To the Templar mages, it felt as though liquid heat was filling them from the very base of their mutated bodies... which was not far from the truth. An intense, euphoric throbbing began to build in their heads, pounding with every beat of their combined heart...
"Guh... n-no! N-ghrl... ghlgh!" Jeran moaned. His own phallic tube pushed into his throat, and his cries dissolved into gurgles and spurts of preseed. His face turned deep pink, and then deep red as the changes overtook his head, making his skull soften and flare out into the tapered crown of a proper dragoncock. Eliter's fate was no different as he finished his own changes, hair, ears, chin and nose disappearing as his lips smacked together and stuck as a taut circle. His eyes bulged in surprise,
The sheer depravity of the transformation made many watching feel their own malenesses throb; the merged mages had been changed into a massive pair of prehensile, draconic hemipenes. The conjoined cock-creature quivered as it stood in place, both Eliter and Jeran's bodies quivering and stiff with need, precum drooling from their enormous slit-maws in great rivers. Focused thought- let alone magic- was impossible for the pair as their great tail lashed behind them, and the needs and instincts of a demonic sex-creature flooded their into their minds. Wild-eyed and confused, the pair stumbled unsteadily on their four-legged frame as row after row of draconic ridges swelled along their stiff necks, and their balls twitched and gurgled with the overpowering need to be emptied...
"Ahhh... don't be shy now, you two..." Ailsythus purred, suddenly behind them. He ran his hand across Jeran's throbbing head, squeezing and caressing the swollen ridge where the magus's neck had once been. "Cum for me, my lovely cocks..."
The utterly corrupted magus shut his eyes tight as the demon lord stroked his phallus-like face, unable to resist the demon's command. Within seconds, Jeran's eyes squeezed closed and his slit-like maw opened wide, and a torrent of cum shot from the cock-like mage. Next to him, Eliter moaned aloud as his shared balls emptied themselves through his throbbing, cumming partner. The magus' eyes crossed as his twin came and came, his resistance crumbling until he felt a massive twinge within the deepest parts of his own body and feel the searing heat of dragon-cum rush up his belly and throat before exploding from his hard, throbbing muzzle. All four of the merged mage's clawed paws scratched and skittered across the ground as their minds were lost in the all-consuming sensation of sexual release, their thoughts nothing but the fantasies of cocks. Erectness and cumming and being shoved into tight holes, spraying and spurting their potent seed everywhere and on everything, corrupting and transforming and living pleasure eternal...
The twin geysers of seed that shot from the cock-creature were largely spent on the ceiling and walls at first, but with a sudden jerk Ailsythus pulled Eliter's head towards the Templar prisoners lined up before his new throne. Fountains of cum blast from his swollen cockhead and cover the prisoners too slow to dodge the gushing, but even those that avoided being drenched at first were soon soaked with hot demonseed after Jeran's head followed that of his partner. Most of the Templar struck by the corrupted sperm melted right out of their clothes and armor, screaming and orgasming constantly as their flesh and bones dissolved into nothing but cum. The thick white puddles bubbled as their facial features reformed in the middle of their now-liquid mass; soon afterwards, the rest of their new bodies burbled and congealed into sticky creatures made from pure demonseed...
"Hmmm... ssso you are the one who led these men?" Ailsythus said, turning towards the speechless High Templar. "I wasss considering something humiliating and perverssse for you, but think I can find a better place for you in my court, mortal..."
Lord Byralt let out a deep and guttural scream as the demon's magic surged into his body like a waterfall over a still pond. He shook as the red-lit energy enveloped his frame, rusting away his armor while making his body grow in fits and starts. His voice grew even deeper as his neck began to push forward, growing scaly and segmented. The rest of him soon followed suit, growing so quickly his armor was blown off his body. Unlike the other Templar who had been transformed into dragons, Byralt continued to grow to the size of a great wyrm, his arms and legs growing thicker than tree trunks while a tail to rival an anaconda sprouted from his backside. His cock split into two prehensile shafts, and curled horns burst from his skull as it deformed into a sinister-looking muzzle...
"A lord should ssserve his people, should he not?" Ailsythus asked, rubbing the wyrm's snout. Ailsythus grabbed the much larger dragon's head between his arms and pulled it towards the raised ass one of the High Templar's former guards, who had been stripped and restrained by Ailsythus' tentacles but otherwise left unmolested. Byralt growled deep as his snout dragged against the male's warm, sweat-rich flesh. His eyes turning a blood-red as the demon lord released his head, and he willingly pressed it into the human's soft, fleshy ass...
The uncorrupted Templar screamed as the corrupted High Templar pinned him against the stone floor and slapped one of his enormous shafts against his backside, forcing the tip of the titanic cock into his virgin hole with unnatural ease. Aided by demonic magic, the enormous dragonhood pushed inward ridge by enormous cockridge...
Lord Byralt fucked his much smaller subordinate impatiently, using his massive forepaws to pry to man's legs apart and push himself even deeper into the crushing tightness of the knight's body. The man cried helplessly with each thrust, his body wracked by pleasure even though the dragon-cock fucking his ass was nearly as thick as his thigh. When the feral wyrm finally orgasmed into him, it felt as though a lake of cum was being poured into his belly, which grew scaly and swollen with pulse after pulse of molten-hot dragonseed. Before Byralt was even finished cumming into him, the former High Templar's second cock began spewing a river hot cum over his back, and he felt the semen already in his stomach hardening into egg-like masses...
The other Templar in the room, already pumped full of cum by Ailsythus and his minions, began to grow in a similar fashion. As more corrupted seed was forced into their bodies, a second set of legs began to split off from their lower bodies, leaving them with a tauric stance. Scales grew over their bulking frames and long tails slinked out from their thoroughly-defiled backsides, and their stomachs swelled out underneath them as spheres of concentrated corruption formed in their bellies...
"Yesss... get used to the feeling of being pregnant and fertile, my minionsss..." Ailsythus said, finding a transforming human without an attendant and shoving his cock into the former Templar's tight ass. "Your old massster and your new one are going to keep your belliesss nice and full of eggsss for the rest of your daysss, my lovely breedersss..."
The last of the uncorrupted were set upon by Jeran and Elitar. The merged mages snatched up the only two Templar left human with their cockheads and gulped them down whole, the flow of sexual fluids from their phallic maws temporarily staunched as they swallowed their meals. The knights struggled as they sank deeper and deeper into the beast, but each found themselves squeezed into a testicle full of overwhelmingly musky demoncum instead of a stomach full of acid. Jeran and Elitar twitched and throbbed in ecstasy as they felt the Templar melt away inside their sack, leaving a powerful, pleasurable tightness deep within it. Their four balls split apart into eight, and then suddenly two bright-red cockheads pushed out from the front of their body. Eyes slowly squished open on each of the new draconic phalluses as they grew and throbbed, the sensation of being nothing but a horny cock corrupting their minds as quickly as the mages had been. All four of the phallic hydra's heads tangled together, frotting and spurting against each other...
Tilydos was so aroused by the sight that he lunged forward and knocked his mate to the ground, pinning Sephyros and violently thrusting his cock deep into the other demon-dragon's tailhole. Sephyros growled in pleasure and pushed his cocktail into his husband's tailhole, but when he twisted his maw to kiss his lover with his cocktongue a scaly rump sat down on his muzzle with its tail raised high. The demonic-dragon licked precum all over the dragonic ass as it was forced against his face, before burying his muzzle between the feral dragon's rump and wiggling both of his hemipene-tongues into the other male's tailhole...
A once-female Templar who had been turned into a dragon pushed himself up onto his forepaws atop the semen-soaked conference table and raised his tail to be mounted by another former female. The other dragon growled with lust as he prepared to fuck the eager male, only to loose a surprised roar when a cum-demon pushed into the slit of his engorged member right as he was about to shove himself inside. His roar turned into a deep, rattling growl as the demon's mass surged through his tailhole and settled into his member. A set of wicked, slitted eyes blinked open on the head of his throbbing dragonhood as the demon possessed it, causing his cock to turn black and stretch out into prehensile, snake-like shape, shoving itself underneath the raised tail before him...
The debauchery continued for some time, though it was hard to say how long. Even the ebb and flow of time seemed to have been corrupted by the demon lord's rebirth.
After the orgy of the damned reached its peak, Ailsythus stood back and admired his work. Their leader corrupted, their forces scattered, assaulted from within and taken completely by surprise, it would not take long for the rest of the redoubt to fall. The proud men and women who had once sworn their very lives to fight his kind were now consumed by demonic lust, tainted utterly beyond the desire for redemption. The demon lord had felt his power grow with every mortal soul overtaken by his corruption. Though he was nowhere near his old strength, when an entire layer of the Abyss was his and mortal cultists on countless words debased themselves in his name, he felt reborn. If anything, the prospect of clawing his way back to his old station one soul at a time was tremendously appealing...
Ailsythus turned towards the void gate and summoned more demons, transforming and corrupting them as he had the rest. But unlike the others, he used his powers to keep them from release after they'd been granted their cocktongues and cocktails, leaving the freshly-mutated demons incredibly horny.
"It isss not in my nature to deny you the chance to enjoy my giftsss, but there is work to be done, my minions. There will be plenty of time later..." Ailsythus said, smiling as he appreciated his work.
"Then... your ordersss, my lord?" one of the demon asked, bowing before Ailsythus.
"Find more uncorrupted within these walls!" the demon lord said, cackling. "Find them and change them! There is more depravity that must be given form! But-!" he continued, licking his muzzle. "Bring the High Magus to me; he is mine alone..."
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Their apportation had taken them back into Nemeron's laboratory, at which point they had armed themselves and rushed to rally the castle's defenders... but found themselves beginning to grow hot and aroused by the smell of musk that seemed to soak right through the stone. Rather than risk corruption, Nemeron apported them through the castle's thick wall.
They stopped but a moment for breath, before hurrying towards the gate and the freedom just beyond.
"Are we the only ones who made it?" Donovan asked.
"The end. This is the end of us..." Analisa mourned.
"I don't see anyone else," Nicholas said, looking behind them as they continued their brisk walk.
"Quiet," Nemeron said without turning. He did not raise his voice, but the firmness of his tone brooked no questioning. "We have a problem."
The High Magus stopped walking, and his apprentices followed suit. A winged demon was perching on the gatehouse, idly mastrubing and watching them. In the gatehouse below, a pair of dragonkin were mating with another demon amidst the ruins of their armor and clothing. One dragon pushing itself up and down on the foul creature's tailcock while the second dragon sucked and licked the demon's other members, it's muzzle entirely covered in cum...
The perched demon stopped its self-pleasuring when Nemeron and his followed stopped, then leapt from the gatehouse and glided down towards them, landing less than a dozen paces away.
"Nemeron... High Magusss of the Templar... my lord bade me to bring you to him, so that he might offer hissss services to you..." the demon said, snapping its wings closed behind its back. "What isss it you desire, mortal?"
"More than anything in the world, right now I would like for you all to vanish back into the thrice-cursed pit from which you were spawned." Nemeron said, cringing as he caught sight of the creature's many phalluses.
"Come now. Everyone desiresss something, mortal. If not sssex, then wealth, or the sssweet taste of power, or the finest and most perverssse art... what desires burden your soul, magus?" the demon hissed. "The massster desires *you*; you could bargain for much if you come willingly..."
It took a step forward; the Templar took a collective step back.
"Any pleasure a demon offers you will invariably be tainted beyond the consideration of any sane mind," Nemeron said, frowning and taking a step back forward. He didn't want to show fear in front of his apprentices, and kept his trembling hand held tight together inside the folds of his robe.
"And you think you'll escape from your compatriotsss fate..?" the demonic creature hissed. It grinned, showing off a long, drooling set of hemipene cock-tongues, throbbing as they grew erect.
"Actually, yes; I think we will." Nemeron replied, far calmer than he actually felt. He swept his cloak to the side and withdrew a handheld crossbow, firing it into the reptilian demon's chest with a fluid, practiced motion. The dart- which appeared to be a short glass tube attached to a mechanical injector- struck the beast dead center, though it didn't faze the muscular creature one bit.
"Pathetic..." the demon said, walking towards Nemeron unfazed. But before it could reach the magus and his cowering students, he stumbled and fell to his knees, barely catching himself above the ground. "Ahhhhhhh... hhhhng... what isss thisss..?" He hissed, his hemipene-tongue drooping in his muzzle as the rest of his body slackened. The demon drew his claws against his chest and plucked out the dart that had pierced his scales, throwing it away.
"White lotus powder, dissolved in a mixture of pure grain alcohol and chameleon frog milk." Nemeron said, carefully walking around the prone dragon-demon and towards the gate. "My pupils, let this be a lesson to you: bravery is no substitute for firepower, and firepower is no substitute for preparation," He said, gesturing for them to join him. "Every demon's strength can become a weakness; pleasure demons cannot help but indulge in pleasure."
His students were silent. Donovan looked like he was going to cry, but held his tongue.
"You... are a clever one..." The demon hissed, rolling over onto its belly. He looked up at the sky and stared at the stars above, fixating on them.
"Thank you," Nemeron replied, smirking. "To conclude my lesson: there is no such thing as a dirty trick when you are at war with demons."
"Stars..?" the demon asked, though it was unclear to whom the question was directed. "Farsss..." it whispered.
"Aside from the implied lesson; never put anything into your body that can knock out a demon," Nemeron said, under his breath. He turned back to his apprentices, shouting "Make haste, Templar!"
They did, scrambling towards the gate.
"Oh, and by the way, demon..." Nemeron said, addressing the drooling demon lying askance on the ground. "Wouldn't it be terribly inconvenient if you just *had* to suck out the sweet poison left in that dart before you report our escape to your master?"
The demon-dragon gave a low hiss in reply. "Bassstard..."
"Excellent. Come now, students; don't tarry!" the magus said, opening the gate. He and his followers hurried through it and then shut it behind them, departing from Briarwood Castle without a backward glance.
"What should we do now, master?" Nicholas asked quietly, once they were some distance from their former home. They were nearing the fork in the road that led to Briarwood village.
"Right. Let me think." Nemeron said, turning to his apprentices. He was silent and did not blink, as if in a waking trance. "We must leave this place and quickly as possible, and seek outside help."
"But if we don't stop them now, the demon will be able to use our fallen brothers and sisters to take over the whole countryside!" Anne protested. "All of Briarwood could..."
"Briarwood is finished." Nemeron replied, walking past the fork in the road and further along the road leading east. "It is too late to save it. That demon and our former friends are too strong to fight, too corrupt to be purified, too dangerous to contain. We must seek the aid of the Brotherhood of Light; they will help us and they know how to be discrete. Then we will contact others of the Templar Order, and let them know what has come to pass."
"What can they do?" Nicholas asked, turning towards his master with tears in his eyes. "If... if Lord Byralt and all of us were nothin' to him, then what can they do?"
The High Magus shook his head. "We weren't prepared. If we had been..." Nemeron sighed. "Regrets will have to wait for another day. For now, we must consider extreme measures. Like... condemning Briarwood to the Abyss."
"What?" Donovan said.
"WHAT!?" Nicholas said.
"How?" Analisa said.
Turning towards Analisa, Nemeron took his staff and drug it through the ground until it had made a circular furrow. "Construct a ritual circle and shift the whole forest though the planes. Demons have an affinity for the Abyss; even the strongest of their number cannot resist it's call. There, they will have great difficulty reaching the material plane again."
"But master, we can't! What about our friends! What about-" Nicholas began to say.
"Quiet, boy!" Nemeron shouted, louder than he'd intended to. He scowled at Nicholas as the younger male shrank down, and then forced himself to calm. The apprentice was young, and his ignorance was to be corrected, not condemned. "Nicholas, if we do not stop the demon soon this whole world will become his plaything, and I have more important things to do with eternity than be some demon's pet!"
Nicholas nodded at his master though tears, and kept walking.
The four of them continued down the road in a hurry, speaking no further until their feet ached and the first light of morning appeared over the horizon.
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To be continued..?
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