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Luxur has been a demon, a succubus to be precise, for a long time. Beautiful and terrible in equal breath. His form ever evolving and shifting over time to best suit the desires of his ideal prey. His favorite essence to consume was weak willed men who wouldn’t admit it to their desires for someone like him while awake. He loved his meals whimpering and full of guilt, loved when they gave way to his charms, needy and docile below him while he took their length and their life with ease. He’d been a woman for millennia though now he was technically a man, ‘he’ wasn’t quite right but it suited Luxur's needs and those dark, hidden desires of his prey just fine. This most recent incarnation had been serving him for decades, a lithe yet muscled physique sculpted to put most Ancient Greek statues to shame. The sharp angles of his face and hard lines of his body were built for coveted longing. His sensuous eyes were dark and wicked, ideal to entrap his meals. Neat, pearly teeth just a little too sharp, the ‘safe’ illusion of danger, behind luscious full lips that could turn on a dime from pouty seducer to starving predator, made him more enticing. Though to Luxur it is always one and the same as he sates himself on their sexual pleasure and cloying fear alike.
When he wanted a quick, easy bite; he chose to hunt out in public at bars and night clubs but Luxur didn’t much care for clothes, finding the fabrics to be unnatural and restrictive, preferring nudity. When he did have to wear them he chose expensive leather as it was the most akin to the feel of his meals, supple and soft. Luxur preferred to hunt the old fashioned way within the dreams of his quarry. Scouring the drifting subconscious minds of mortal men, slipping into their dreams or more favorably their nightmares, morphing their fears into desire for him instead. Luring them to safety in his intriguing embrace, allowing them to seek divine refuge within his tantalizing, cloying heat. Manifesting to solid form in their very beds as their so often ignored, aching need drew Luxur to them like a moth to a flame, just as unaware of their imminent destruction.
Their want is always a pleasant aroma, so forced down during the day, that it flows wild in the wake of sleep, drifting on the air. Then Luxur needs only to appear. Walking over with measured confidence, laid fully bare for their appraisal amidst whatever reverie he’s intruded on. Sometimes he has to tease it out of them, slow and sensuous, until they’re quivering on the brink. Other times after denying themself so much they flock to him eagerly, begging to have him. Either way it all ends the same, with Luxur riding them to within an inch of their lives and then of course guzzling that last inch as well, quite literally taking all that they have, leaving them an empty husk. But by the time they've realized that they're not asleep, it was already far too late. Now they're wide awake for a new nightmare, drenched in tormented pleasure that had only just begun. Once they were sheathed within him, Luxur would clench down harder as he fed, sapping them dry in every sense of the word. Gobbling up their desire, their fear, and their life. Luxur never left survivors but his meals only sustained him for a few days and then he’d need to feed again but the hunt was exhausting. The cavern of unyielding hunger was never sated for long. Luxur had grown used to having famine as a companion.
The young man whose bed he found himself in this time was much like any of his marks. Though they were all young to Luxur, having been around long enough to consume plenty of ancient kings and even some queens of yore, amongst common folk alike. His current meal was much like the rest, attractive enough by human standards but ultimately forgettable, except for his cock. This meal was well endowed and uncut, longer and thicker than most men and he filled the demon up deliciously. He’d been drawn in right away, nearly stumbling over himself to get to Luxur, already acquiescent and submissive. It wasn’t often his meals fed both sides of his appetites. He’d found this one having a nightmare about disappointing his father; Luxur found the ones with mommy and daddy issues tasted the best.
With his preternatural strength Luxur held his dinner in place, toying with his nipples and scraping his nails along the smooth planes of his chest as he rode him. The meal below his hips whined under his ministrations and tried to buck up into Luxur’s intoxicating heat. He allowed him to but didn’t waver in his set pace. This meal was already exceptionally delicious, Luxur tasted crisp berries it in the air as he swallowed.
He would taunt him with his demonic powers later but Luxur always relished the frail guise of his humanity. “So big,” he moaned, “Filling me up so well.” And it wasn’t even a lie this time. His tender meal whimpered in delight at the praise, so close to his first of many orgasms for the night. The taste of his pleasure sparked like burnt sugar in the air, smoky and sweet, an apéritif that settled in Luxur’s stomach, his mouth watered. “I will take so much pleasure from you, morsel.” His dinner arched back as best he could, eagerly crying out as his first orgasm of the night overtook him.
Luxur swallowed instinctively though he didn’t technically need to. This heady mouthful of lust was creamy and fluffy like the perfect slice of cheesecake. “Very good,” he praised again, unrelenting as he rode him. The taste of his aftershocks made Luxur groan with true delight, the buttery creaminess suffusing on his tongue. Moaning staring down at his meal, “I want more. Give me another,” he commands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. Often his meals crave the idea of ‘breeding’ him, Luxur plays along. “Fill me,” he demands, enjoying the little joke of truth as their desire does just that. This meal doesn’t disappoint either, cumming again with the help of Luxur’s powers. The tincture is citrusy and smooth this time. The flavor from the first orgasm was filling, turning rich in its aftertaste combined with the second and Luxur wants more, eager for this meal’s other courses. Lowly, “My my, how divine. Such a sweet, sweet thing. So attentive to your master’s needs.” The effect of the praise is the darkest chocolate, bitter yet decadent and so rich. Luxur fucks down onto him harder, already feeling his meal’s large cock fill once more. “You’ll give and I’ll take many more before this night is through.” Luxur rides him more roughly, demanding, “Won’t you, morsel?”
His obedient meal, euphoric and unable to speak, merely moans again, zinging with his enjoyment of the term of endearment, clutching Luxur’s firm thighs. His eager dinner would continue to spill his seed again and again yet his balls would stay heavy, achingly full, and his cock would continue raising to attention, for as long as Luxur saw fit to have him or until his lovely dinner shuddered his last breath, whichever came first. Luxur could ratchet up the bliss or ease into the discomfort whenever he saw fit to. He chose to tow that line between pleasure and pain as long as their fragile minds would allow. Preferring to savor his meals rather than devour them quickly. Their fear tasted better, the longer the anticipation built up.
Even in their abnormal lust filled pleasure haze, usually his dinners’ caught on by around orgasm eight that something was deeply wrong. Luxur adored the shift in flavor from raw, unfettered excitement to primal terror. Though their fears were always still tinged with heady, unwilling desire, their gooey sweetness turned sour but still delicious. The tang much like a crisp glass of lemonade on a hot day at first, but then quickly morphing into a sharper flavor, the spicy ichor of their hopelessness as they neared their earthly demise as pleasure continued to be torturously forced out of them. It was more enticing and intoxicating than any alcoholic spirit and unique to every mortal he consumed, the languid buzz within fueling Luxur's own orgasm.
But this current meal was proving to be unlike any of the others, experiencing no such qualms or worries for his life even by his thirteenth orgasm, gasping and moaning with unbridled, wanton hedonism. Moaning and whimpering as he fucked up into Luxur, trying valiantly to match his demonic stamina. Luxur’s dark eyes glittered with sick glee, Oh this one is different. With an intriguing mortal such as this, this would surely be a repast like no other. “You have no fear?” Luxur marveled, it was barely a question as he swallowed a large gulp of honeyed bliss. His supple meal nodded his head, eager to prove himself. With one hand still pressed firmly to his chest, now slick with the sweat of his human exertion, Luxur grasped the chin of his meal firmly with the other. “My my, aren’t you an enticing creature.” He watched Luxur with rapt attention and needy eyes, tasting his blind devotion alongside his desire. Groaning deeply, “You’re special, aren’t you, my little morsel?” The praise hit him like a drug and Luxur swallowed the ripe and juicy lust thickly. “Gahhh,” he gasped as it landed heavily in his stomach. “So much for me to devour.” His meal nodded emphatically. “So eager for me-” Another unexpected bite filled his mouth, this time rich and pungent like fine aged cheese. The flavors and textures of his meal rarely changed so quickly, unless… “So eager for me to taste you.” His dinner nodded excitedly again and Luxur tasted more; candied nuttiness with the creamy cheesiness, and dusted with spice.
Digging his nails into the flesh of his dinner, Luxur breathes, gathering himself a moment before speaking again, “You have surmised what I am.” It isn’t a question. His meal merely continues to nod, mouth falling open on a groan, so gone with unparalleled devotion. Luxur presses a finger into his plush mouth. As his morsel sucks eagerly Luxur ingests several succinct heady bites, meaty and fatty. Changing the pace, he grinds slower, amused, “So you know what I am, what I can do-” he pauses to swallow another ambrosial mouthful, wiping the drool from his own chin, “Mmmm- what I will do. What I’ve done to every other unfortun-” Still sucking his finger as if it will sustain him, he nods again, Luxur swallows a greasy, succulent bite. “Ohhh so tender- every other scrumptious and unfortunate mortal that has whet my appetite over the centuries.” Luxur presses another finger into his dinner’s willing mouth and his pleasure at being used bursts across Luxur’s tongue, filling the demon’s mouth with rich umami. Were it tangible, in the usual sense, it would be dripping down his chin with it’s immensity. But this pleasure is all for him and it will always find it’s way into Luxur’s cavernous maw and hungry stomach. He moans involuntarily at the smooth thickness, like fine molasses but savory, sliding down his throat.
Gulping, he nearly finds himself drooling again as he catches his breath, stuttering his pace to avoid hiccups. Once he’s collected himself, resuming his punishing rhythm, he speaks once more with cruel confidence, “Mouthwatering as you are, morsel, I don’t taste your fear. Your arousal is heightened by the thought of a death at my hand.” His meal nods and bucks uselessly against Luxur’s strength. He chuckles, unsure how he manages to speak through the taste, “The very thought of me swallowing down your life force only adds to your want for me to do so, adding to the incredible flavors of your debaucherous need.” The next bite drops heavily into his stomach. “Mmmmpph,” he groans, unused to his meals truly affecting him so thoroughly, enjoying the glow of fullness. Staring down at his meal through his nose, “But founder of my feast, which of us will yield first? Who shall give?”
His indulgent meal weakly squirms below him again, delirious with longing as Luxur milks his cock. Staring up at Luxur with heavy, questing eyes. His bemusement is fresh and clean, like an oyster in its brine. “Will I gobble up and absorb every ounce of your pleasure and sit sated with a plump middle atop your corpse-” His divine meal whines with need, cumming another time. “Nggghhhh,” Luxur groans, jolted by the weight of another large, heady treat. This one’s closer to fear but nowhere near the taste of the unwilling that Luxur usually imbibes. He can feel his meal’s rampant excitement increasing. It’s juicy and bloody like a prime cut of steak, it sits heavy within the succubus as he swallows repeatedly.
Once he's caught his breath, he coos,“Curiouser and curiouser.” His usually svelte stomach now sporting a convex curve. This is where he’d be licking the plate of his other meals clean, as it were, but this meal, my feast, shows no sign of tapping out anytime soon. Luxur could stop here, could spare this young man and be on his way, were he human he’d be quite content to stop here. But he hasn’t been human for a long, long time and Luxur can’t remember a time he’d been in a position for seconds from the same source. He wants to be forget how it feels to hunger. Luxur trembles above him with anticipation, but he must maintain appearances, sneering down at his next course, “Or will my stomach be so distended and swollen having gorged myself on your fatty desire that I simply have to leave you alive just to digest it all?”
Whimpering loudly, his feast cries and writhes with unadulterated pleasure beneath Luxur at the very idea of it. The succubus swallows hungrily, greedily, as the unfiltered desire pours down his throat, flowing like wine, sloshing into his stomach. Luxur fucks himself harder, gulping down every drop in a frenzy, losing himself in the sensation that were this real wine, his mouth wouldn’t be able to keep up with the speed of the pour. Luxur imagines it splashing down his chin and onto his chest and stomach, messily soaking them both. Luxur looks down and sees he’s starting to bulge with the beginnings of overindulgence, a plumpness rounding his upper belly. “It’s been so *hic* long,” he moans, shaking with hiccups, coming undone as he swells under the still foreign sensation of being full. “Don’t you *hic* want to *hic* feel it?” he nearly begs. His meal tentatively takes the demon’s turgid cock in hand. “Not that,” he laughs, the surprise stopping his hiccups. Huffing, “Though I certainly won’t stop you.” With every thrust of Luxur’s hips onto the cock speared within him, Luxur rocks his own arousal in and out of the soft grip. Since his poor morsel is so overwhelmed with his many orgasms he can’t do more than hold him. Luxur mocks through his own budding stupor, “But you’ve got two hands.” He takes his other roughly and presses it to his burgeoning belly. “You liked the idea of me bloated and fattened with your lust so much before, I should think you’d like to feel it happen, morsel.” His feast howls with bliss as he rubs over the tightening skin.
A deluge of sinful ecstasy pours down Luxur’s gullet. His throat clicks with the speed of keeping up with it, moaning deep from his chest all the while, determined not to get hiccups, lifting on and off the cock within him. It’s heavier and thicker than syrup, piquant and potent, moving down his throat. Luxur feels himself very quickly getting quite tipsy with the sheer volume of raw pleasure surging down his gullet. Fucking himself harder onto his meal’s cock and into his hands, he strokes up along his chest, gripping him by the shoulder as Luxur rides him faster, His feast’s dick plunges up further into his needy, infernal heat and his meal’s soft hand strips his cock while his other presses into Luxur’s growing stomach even harder. The feedback loop is divine torment because as his prey feels Luxur’s middle jut out further, bloating with his own lust, Luxur has more of it to consume. The flavor shifts in complexity from sweet to savory and back again, never ceasing to be luciously filling and delicious.
Unsure how many times his meal, no, my banquet feast, has cum at this point, Luxur shuts his eyes, luxuriating on the cock within him, rocking softly back and forth instead of up and down as he eats and drinks far more than his fill. The lush onslaught of sustenance rounds out his middle as his stomach balloons and distends larger. He’s amazed by this decadent feast’s stamina, dizzy with his seemingly unending life force as Luxur continuously guzzles more and more of his bubbling, sumptuous eros. Lost in his own lavish bliss he’s unaware of his morsel moving his other hand off his cock to join the other over his straining abdomen.
Luxur feels so full, fuller than he’s ever been but still not overfull, he’s never been too full, not with the memories of gnawing hunger still so fresh. He wants to be too full, Luxur craves being stuffed overfull to bursting so he forgets.
The flavor changes, the tartness of cherries explodes on Luxur’s tongue. His dinner whimpers with exquisite overstimulation, shuddering and feebly kicking while his hands rub over every inch of his middle. Luxur opens his eyes, finally taking in his own state again. His stomach is a ball; flushed red and continuing to stretch tighter as he looks upon it. It’s a dizzying sight, he lurches unsteadily. With a comically dainty hand to his mouth, he lets out a long belch that does nothing to alleviate the building pressure within him. Drunkenly, “Look what you’ve done to me, morsel.” His eyes are hazy too, enjoying the pet name, kneading his fingers into the engorged mound of flesh. Swaying again, Luxur steadies himself with a hand on his meal’s side, too big to reach his chest. He chuckles, “What you’re doing to me.” He moans and bulges ever wider. “Swollen fat like a filthy whore in trouble. Stuffed to the gills. Gravid with your pleasure.” His supplicant meal whines and trembles, rubbing harder beneath the swell. Luxor swallows thickly, fattening further under his perfect feast’s questing hands as they somehow find give in the taut flesh. His belly truly looks like that of a pregnant human female near their due date. Luxur whines at the pressure of it weighing down on his aching arousal, trapped between their bellies, sliding against the skin with ease, continuously leaking precum. Luxur flutters his hole, pulsing tight around the magnificent cock inside of him. His movements start to slow as his stomach protrudes further with each frenzied swig of his feast’s wine-like desire, looking more and more expectant. To well past due, with twins, with triplets, with more by the second. The hands move excitedly over the heavy, bloated mound of flesh as his gut swells. The tartness becoming sweeter and creamier with each new pass of his fingers, Luxur sways with inebriation, leaning back on his hands to steady himself. Every instinctive swallow makes the movements of Luxur’s hips more sluggish and still his dome of a middle presses ever outwards with his meal’s desire feeding him, hiccuping again when he fails to keep up with the deluge. “So *hic* much des*hic*ire.”
Somehow there’s still give to be had as his unearthly body adapts, his skin adjusting to the liquid like meal. As it is, his inhuman protuberance presses heavily down onto his divine meal, the flesh spilling over slightly, sloshing and precarious like an overfilled water balloon, making his meal squirm and quiver in immobilized bliss below him. The bulging, swollen near-spherical blob obscuring their vision of the other’s face.
Luxur arches his back as best he can with the heaping weight, gulping and lapping at the wave of pleasure, it only pushes the massive protrusion into the young man’s chin, muffling his heightening moans. The sounds of his pleasure vibrates along Luxur’s stomach. “Listen to you whimpering for me, morsel.” Savory, syrupy liquor fills him further somehow landing heavily in the impossibly stuffed organ as Luxur’s own orgasm finally crests. He cums with his cock trapped between their stomachs, the sheer volume of his own gut adding to his fevered release. “Mmmmmppff- my eager feast, you’re all mine-” he praises, low and rumbling, “-and how heavenly you are.” The mountain of a gut distends even further, tightening with his perfect meal's own release as he screams, spilling deep within Luxur for a final climax. Violently shaking with the gush of tasty pleasure, Luxur guzzles the load greedily but far too fast.
Turbulent full body hiccups viciously wrack his body, shaking both of them. The bed creaks and groans with each quake of his girth. One hand atop his middle near his lungs and another at his lips, “You’ve *hic* made me *hic* so... *hic* fat,” he breathes shallowly. Luxor slaps his bulbous gut hoping to encourage a belch to ease the tenderness. The thud is loud but short, there's no longer any jiggle to the flesh, it's airtight, packed so dense after the solidity of his feast’s orgasm soaked up all the liquid pleasure. He manages a few long, wet belches but the pressure of his churning middle, from so much continuous eating, merely refills the alleviated space. “*Hic* you delicious *hic* thing.” Sighing with pleasure of his own, Luxur admires the vast, swollen sphereoid. Drunkenly, “Never *hic* been so *hic* *hic* …full.” He massages his belly, trying to calm his hiccups, the shaking from his hiccups only adding to the taut pressure brewing within him. Luxur swears he bloats out further as he shudders, as if he were shaken up and carbonated.
A residual cup of sated desire from his meal’s aftershocks trickles down his throat, cool water ending his hiccups. With some relief, he sighs rubbing the sides of his rotund globe. Barely audible, he repeats with a soft groan, “Never been so full.”
He belches again, thankful he’d not taken his sustenance while standing like he sometimes did. Rolling off his dinner is a considerable effort, multiple failed attempts to gain momentum have his meal whining and crying with overstimulation which only adds to Luxur’s plight. The spice of raw garlic is not as unwelcome as his meal probably hopes. On the fifth try he manages to sway off to the side and falls back with a graceless thump. The whole bed creaks loudly and shudders beneath them; his sated meal even bounces in place from the forceful tremor. Near distended past his knees even as he lays reclined, partially propped up on the pillows, he can barely see over the top of it’s swell. Bulging like a huge, bloated tick, straining and sore, between his wide spread thighs. For as gargantuan as his mountain of a gut is, the visual doesn’t even begin to illustrate how it feels. The ungodly weight of it is immense, stuffed so tightly with such compact, concentrated desire. Stroking what he can reach near the top, Luxur forces out several belches that again do absolutely nothing. He groans, barely registering the other two hands massaging him.
Once the blissful haze of orgasm clears and he registers more fully the effects of this torturous excess. Whining deeply, “So very tight.” He tries to knead the skin and alleviate any of the swollen pressure, his gut merely starts to cramp with the beginning of digestion. “So tight. So big. So full, too full,” Luxur whines in delicious agony, belching again to no avail. Finally he notices his still conscious and still living meal ticket dutifully rubbing him with gentle hands. He complains as if this hadn’t been his very wish, “You’ve made me so heavy, stuffed me too full, my little morsel.”
Luxur’s meal finally speaks, whispering softly, “Please stay…”
“I’m far too swollen and glutted to even stand, let alone leave,” Luxur snaps harshly, his breathing ragged.
With more surety, his morsel begs, “Please stay. You may have me again and again. I want you to. Any time you wish,” he pleads, “Forever.”
“Stuffed me well past gravid, stuffed me so tight with your corpulent lust, past any and all limits-” He knew even now it was show, that he could push further, grow fuller, that he wanted to, that he would. “-as if I’m not about to burst on my very next breath-” Another lie. He was a being meant for debauchery and decadence, who like his millions of meals had been denying his desires for a very long time. “-and yet you speak of more, my greedy morsel,” he admonishes weakly, as if he doesn’t love it. As if he’d been forced to consume a meal of this quantity, that would sate him for for many months over, in one swift night. As if he hadn’t wanted to partake in this unholy gluttony all his second life, and if he’s honest, his first. As if he wasn’t already thinking, hoping, for more, even now, pained and nearly bursting. Luxur licks his lips, finding his spent cock trying valiantly to recover at the mere thought. “Now, massage and attend to what you have done, you beastly, degenerate morsel.”
“Anything,” he breathes softly against his neck, cuddling against Luxur’s swollen bulk, curling his soft fingers over the taut skin and gently massaging his complaining, abused gut.
Luxur knows he will stay with this depraved morsel, knows he’s powerless to do anything else after this fiendish night. Knows he will use any and all magics at his disposal to strengthen and care for this veritable banquet of a mortal morsel into the perfect creature for him alone to feast and gorge himself upon. Knows he will mold him with further devilish excess into his own personal, on-tap, made to order, all-you-can-eat, all-you-can-drink, all-you-can-fuck buffet. One he can feed on and fuck to his black heart’s content. As the demon dozes, lulled into a deep slumber by the comfort, Luxur has dreams. Of diabolical fullness, far surpassing even this, leaving him pitifully beached and immobile. Of a perpetually full stomach hanging heavily distended and low, ballooned and sloshing with sex-addled inebriation. Of all manner of unparalleled groaning, engorged, unholy excess at the hands of this debauched man. Even dreams of stuffing his morsel full too. All while the hands of his devoted, adoring morsel never cease or tire in their exploratory, soothing caress after their first of many long dinners together.