A long look in the mirror

Steve awoke only a few hours later in a cold sweat. His dreams had been haunted by visions of hyper-hung studs tearing each other to shreds in a frenzy. Worst of all, every one of them wore his face. And the prize they killed each other over? None other than Chris.

Panting, Steve wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushed himself up off the bed and began pacing the room. On nights like these, he would go for a walk on the beach to clear his head, but, as he was, he was stuck inside the apartment.

Steve flicked on the light in the bathroom with a sigh. His arms clutched the sink tightly as he stared at his face in the mirror. It certainly was more handsome than what he was before, his jawline more chiseled, his resting expression set in a textbook smoulder. His brown eyes held just enough warmth to entice someone in, yet a cold gleam that told you he wasn't some one-night stand you could throw away without second thought. His gaze went lower.

His shoulders had broadened significantly, and they held up two large pecs, and thick, muscular arms. Below, six brick-like abdominals stood to attention, framed by rippling obliques.

Below them was his glory. Where he had been well-hung before, his new dick put any others to shame - fourteen inches soft, his huge python draped low over his huge, orange-sized balls. The girthy shaft was so thick that he could barely wrap his hands around it, and it wasn't even stiff. Behind him, his cocktail lashed, eager not to be forgotten. The appendage was easily five feet long, and though he had control over it, it moved with a mind of its own whenever he lost focus. Testing out its movement, he curled it around himself, shuddering at the sensations it cast on his bare skin, until the slit of the mushroom-shaped head was looking him directly in the eye.

Suddenly, Steve was hit by an idea. Slowly, he manoeuvred his tail lower, and poised it outside his mouth. Well, here goes nothing, he thought, and slowly pushed his own cock through his lips.

Instantly, he was assaulted by familiar pleasure, yet so alien, especially with his other rod stood proud in the cold bathroom air. His hands found his cock and began to stroke it, feeling every inch of skin on skin, both shafts angry, red and so much more sensitive than he remembered. With each moment, Steve's movements grew faster and faster, pleasure building up swiftly. His eyes rolled back into his head, and as his conscious control over his tail failed, it went into overdrive, lancing in and out of his own mouth with such vigour that it nearly made him come on the spot. Yet still, he held on, moaning as he managed to deepthroat his own rod, feeling how hot it was on his tongue.

Steve's muscles were trembling with the will it took to hold it back, eyes closed as the purest form of pleasure shot through him like lightning, and so he missed another set of changes going through his body.

His toes ground into the bathroom tiles, growing several sizes. His back hunched over as he grew taller and taller, packing on muscle as he did. Claws formed on the end of his fingers, and talons on his feet. A red hue began to rise in his skin, creeping up over him until he was a deep, infernal crimson. His hair blackened in response, eyes glowing bright yellow, and horns twisting out of his head. Bottles shattered as two huge, ebony bat-wings extended behind him.

But his mind was the last thing to change. Going from that loving, caring boyfriend, all of his best qualities were quickly burned in hellfire. They hardened into dark, possessive thoughts, the idea that he was made to dominate and control. He was powerful, and he deserved to rule over this land. Though, in the corner of his mind, there was the tiny, persistent voice of the man Steve had once been, whispering at him to at least take care of Chris.

Steve straightened up, looking himself in his yellow, reptilian eye. His 8-foot body rippled with muscle, and his wings flexed behind him. Most importantly, his thick cocktail, and even larger dick were hard and ready to go again. And he could hear the soft snores of Chris in the other room.

The incubus gave a last satisfied smirk at himself in the mirror, before he turned his attention to properly claiming his little cock whore.