Day 6

Day 6 - Original (GAY) - Glory Hole, Cumming in Pants, Feeding

Jordan's tongue hung drooping from his mouth. He didn't sweat, it wasn't in his biology, even if he came from the hottest place on any plane of existence. But demonspawn were uniquely equipped to hack it in hell. They weren't adapted to the desert, and the heat here was… different.

It also didn't help that he'd been out wandering for multiple days without feeding at this point. He didn't ever actually need to eat, not if he had a source of Orgone at hand, but he did need to feed on something, whether it was energy or food. They were both crude paths to the same direction - that being him staying fit. He couldn't starve, that he knew of, but at a certain point a demon would become so weak they may as well be dead. He'd even heard horror stories of devolution. Incubi reverting to imps, reverting even to lowly scamps, to demonic worms in the soil. While he was pretty sure that was all a lie, he wasn't happy to be putting it to the test.

His party had abandoned him. At least, that was how he was going to tell it to the first halfway-sympathetic ear he found. In actuality, they'd sort of mutually abandoned each other, the endpoint of most adventuring parties, but that didn't matter. It had been a sort of disagreement on priorities. The mortally-inclined had considered getting away from the dungeon's traps a higher priority than getting the loot they'd been sent in for, and Jordan had considered the mission to take priority. Of course, he couldn't die, and he could revive any of them at any time. But they had a tendency to find death traumatizing, no matter how temporary it was. He'd have liked to find a party of demons and half-demons to travel with instead to avoid these problems, but the problem was that you usually couldn't trust them for shit.

You certainly couldn't trust their directions, that was for sure. Jordan had thought he had a pretty good handle on the route they'd taken to get to the dungeon, but the desert sands had shifted around him and confused him. Hell, on more than one occasion they'd literally shifted under him and gotten him pretty turned around. Still, if he stuck in one direction and just kept walking that way, he'd eventually get somewhere, didn't matter if it was a road or a bandit's den. He had to find something. Bearing with the assumption that the spheres of creation were, well, spheres of massive size, it was unlikely that he'd wind up back at the dungeon or walk off into an immaterial plane before he found somebody. It was just taking longer than he'd have liked. Four days now, maybe, he was losing count.

He'd done the smart thing and tried to travel at night at first. That's how they'd gone out to the dungeon. But he'd also never been the most comfortable with that. He just wasn't built for the sun, had never in all his years on this plane gotten used to its eternal disaffected malice. One too many days sleeping like shit and he'd changed his mind. The sun was easier to track each day as he made his way east, anyway.

But the heat…

After one day's walking, his whole body felt like it was chafing. After the next, he was having trouble stringing thoughts together. As the soft sand gave way to hard-sear black stone, he'd shed one article of clothing and then the other trying to get comfortable. He'd tried carrying his pack over his head, tried draping just a robe around himself. Nothing beat the heat, not truly. The closest you got was nudity, but that just gave him a chance to watch himself wasting away. Not that he'd ever been a muscular figure, but by now his ribs poked through his red chest, his belly sunken away and his legs scrawny-looking. His once-average build had turned to an emaciated, weak-looking lank. His dark hair was dusty and rusty with sand, and the little red horns that peeked through it acheDay 6 - Original (GAY) - Glory Hole, Cumming in Pants, Feedingd from heat. Whenever he reached up to touch them, they were hot enough to hurt his fingers. The usually lively spade tail hung limp against his backside and thighs. His cock hadn't started to shrivel yet, that was a comfoIf you liked this story, consider voting for it here! https://strawpoll.com/GPgVY9LJMnart at least, but that was always the last part to go. He'd heard another story about losing it entirely, not even being able to harness Orgone any more without submitting yourself to somebody. Like the others, he was pretty sure that was also a lie. Not that it kept him from reaching down every once in a while as if to check that it was still there.

When he finally saw something over the dunes, he almost didn't believe it. He hadn't experienced any serious heat-induced hallucinations - he might not have been able to - but he was certain that this had to be one. A little oasis perched on a long trading route, no more than a watering hole with a tiny, mostly-dry creek leading to it. But there were trees, actual pieces of green amid the black and gold of the desert. Jordan ran giddily to the next rise in the sand. Ahead of him the desert dropped away on the path to the oasis. It was a clear, clean shot between him and his destination. Looking back for a moment, his footsteps wavered side to side at least twenty paces either direction, tracing back into the blasted distance farther than his inhumanly powerful eyes could see.

He all but ran screaming toward it. Jordan couldn't help but feel a little regretful for having dropped the treasure he'd done all of this for along the way - if he'd have known it would be merely a week of torture, he'd probably have toughed it out - but he'd left it in a safe drop that he should have been able to find again easily. Ideally he'd come back with one of the camels that his party had left him without. Ideally he'd also find his party again, if only for revenge. Ren had it coming and then some.

Finally arriving at the edge of the oasis, Jordan dropped his pack and threw himself in. Of course, it wasn't the crystal-clear, ice-cold water he'd maybe been dreaming of. In fact, it was quite warm and fairly muddy, but compared to what he'd been through it felt amazing if only for a few moments. He let himself soak, cooling his horns and tail and washing out his hair before slinking back to the shore. Several people were looking at him queerly, some with barely-restrained disgust and others with pure curiosity. It wasn't every day a sun-worn Incubi threw himself into your watering hole buck naked. With a quick, withering look from Jordan, most of them turned their gaze away.

He finally entered the main building of the oasis after shrugging on his leather shorts and top. It was too hot for the full costume, and he'd also shrunken somewhat since he'd last worn it. So what. He didn't particularly care if the people there saw his lack of a navel. Some of them had seen plenty more than that just a minute ago. The man behind the counter of what looked like a hostel gave him a disapproving look that Jordan was used to.

"You teethling?" The man asked in a thick, lispy accent.

"No, I'm as much demon as you can be and still get to walk around up here." Jordan boasted.

"You mixed, demon no-demon." The man repeated, this time saying a question as a statement.

"Yes, but tiefling implies an even mix. Both of my parents are demons." Jordan rolled his eyes. "Look, my father is one of the Princes of-"

"No serve teethling." The man cut him off.

"Look, I don't need any of your food. I just need a room for the night." Jordan growled. "Put me in the stables, I don't care."

"No room, no food." The man behind the counter dug in. "Leave."

"I just spent a week crossing the desert, alone, without supplies." Jordan was aware he probably didn't look very intimidating right now, but he was hoping the demonic features would do the heavy lifting. Especially if the man had some regional superstition against demon-kin. "And I have more money than anybody else is going to pay you to stay here."

"No." The man behind the counter spat.

"Alright," Jordan bared his teeth. "Then I'll burn the place down, despoil your women, and raid every caravan that passes by for the next month. I can't die, no matter how hard you try, so my ability to be a problem vastly outstrips your capability to solve me."

"No women," The man shook his head.

"Ohhh, so that's why you're being such a cunt." Jordan sneered. "Alright, are there any services in this place that are available to my kind? Perhaps you'll sell me one of those head-to-toe robes you all wear? Maybe I could rent out one of the camels? Preferably one you haven't bedded recently?"

The man behind the counter, seeming to just want Jordan gone more than anything, looked over his shoulder and barked something in his own language. Jordan was ready for somebody to come from the kitchen brandishing a weapon or something, but another voice shouted back without interest, and the man behind the counter turned back to Jordan looking plaintive.

"Baths open." He said simply.

"Well, I can't see why I'd want to steam myself so soon after baking, but maybe that's the tastiest way to prepare demon." Jordan sighed.

The baths were, in fact, steamless.

Jordan wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't a cavernous underground room that looped into the natural river passing through. They seemed to have tunneled into an aquifer and then made their best imitation of a bath out of it. As a result, the room was colder even than a desert night, Jordan was surprised by just how much he enjoyed the feeling. There was a central pool that seemed to be self-draining where a few men lazed around, then some upper benches where others were upturning basins of water onto themselves. There were even a few private booths. Jordan wasn't sure if those were for modesty, for women, or some combination of those things, but they were very very convenient for his sake.

He shrugged his top off but kept his shorts on. Not out of any sense of modesty, just because they had more hidden pockets than his bare body did. Then he made a show of going over and trying out one of the basins, shivering a little at the water, before dipping his legs into the main pool. That was nice and warm, much more like the nasty, stagnant oasis up topside. After a few polite waves to the other scowling men, he made his way back over to the bench.

There wasn't exactly a coat check, and as a result packs and clothing were piled on benches and strewn in heaps around the floor. While there seemed to be a good amount of trust, Jordan kept looking around him as he passed by one and then another pile or bag by 'coincidence.' A lot of them were directly in the line of sight of their owner, judging by the extra-strength glares he got from somebody when he was near what was likely their pack. Still, there were a couple where he didn't get any look. A couple even where he could easily peek around their belongings with magic or just his hands and not be seen by anybody if he was quick. So long as he was being low-key, nobody was really staring at him. Most of them weren't robbing anyway. Their belongings had a few stray coins, receipts written on clay tablets, trinkets and baubles that would only appease the most superficial of people. Things he would normally be happy to steal, but in too small of quantity to risk it here and now.

Finally, though, he found a truly juicy pack. Probably a few hundred gold coins stuffed into a small pocket dimension that made it look like the pack was empty. It was a common spell, he had one on his own bag. It was also near-perfect protection unless you were a good thief. Unfortunately, for whoever owned this one, Jordan was an excellent thief. It was just a matter of time. He would need a minute or two to undo the spell, and that kind of work he didn't feel comfortable doing out in the open. So, when he had a moment clear, he quickly pocketed the pack and slipped into one of the booths with it.

The inside was little more than a simple wooden facade built around one of the bench seats, but as Jordan sat down his eyes flickered to a small hole that was about face-level when he was sitting down like this. If he were to stand up, it would have been pretty easy even for a guy his height to put his dick through. And if he was somehow still too short, he could have just stood on the basin. He wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it from the outside. Maybe some kind of cloaking spell. Though as he glanced through it quickly, it seemed to go to somewhere else in the oasis, not the next booth over.

"No women, huh?" Jordan snickered. He almost considered putting his dick through, but he had business to take care of.

Unwinding the spell was almost like pulling at a sweater sleeve until you undid the whole thing. First, you needed to find the right pattern in the magic to pull on, then you needed to be very, very, very patient. The stronger the spell, the more complicated the weave. The more times you'd need to refind the thread or start pulling in a different direction. Of course, he'd overcome versions of this spell cast by people who had spent hundreds of years perfecting this exact kind of magic. If there was a version of this that he couldn't solve, it was only because he couldn't even detect it in the first place.

A voice seemingly just outside the booth made him freeze. He was waiting for a knock, somebody asking if he'd seen their pack, but after a second he realized it was coming from the hole and bouncing around the booth. Then an eye peeked through, making Jordan thankful that hidden the pack as soon as he heard a noise. The eye retreated as quickly as it'd come, and he heard somebody barking something to somebody else. He didn't speak the language, and it'd take a while hearing it for passing translation magic to make it start making sense to him, but he got a distinct impression from the context. That whoever's eye that had been had just committed a pretty serious party foul.

Then somebody's dick slid through the hole.

Jordan wasn't exactly surprised by this, but he did freeze again. He was seated on the pack of money, still untangling it with his mind, but his eyes were locked on the shaft hanging into the stall. It was pretty impressive; thick enough to stretch his mouth out when hard, long enough even soft to droop down into the stall convincingly. Whoever was pushing it through had formed a near-perfect seal with their body, keeping him from looking around and checking out the guy's balls or how he'd done shaving, but the smell of sweat on his skin was unmistakable. There probably wasn't a guy at the oasis who wasn't sweating, but at least with public baths he could expect some level of hygiene.

His stomach growled fiercely and Jordan let out a sad scoff. If this was the Innkeeper or one of his buddies, he'd done a perfect job setting this up. Jordan usually preferred his Orgone from female sources, but life was any port in a storm if you were an Incubi. It was just that he didn't exactly spend a lot of time in storms…

"Alright, you win," Jordan said, though he was pretty sure the guy on the other side wasn't listening and didn't give a shit anyway so long as he got some action. "You're lucky I'm so hungry, you're about to get the best blowjob of your life."

He wrapped one hand daintily around the base, lifting the tip towards his lips, then popped the head onto his tongue. Immediately, his mouth exploded with drool, his eyes almost crossing and his head going fuzzy. Cum, of course, was the most potent vector of Orgone, but even just arousal was a pretty damn good one. And whoever this was, they were turned on like they hadn't cum in weeks. Though, to be fair, he also hadn't cum in weeks, he just didn't get 'pent up'. What he got was hungry, very very hungry.

Without waiting for his partner to get hard, Jordan slid the whole of the length down his throat, feeling the tip press against his Adam's apple from the inside. It was a pretty impressive endowment, and the muttered curse from the other side of the glory hole suggested that its owner wasn't used to being throated like that. He throbbed and pulsed as he swelled in Jordan's throat, and each throb felt like lifeblood being pumped back into the Incubi's veins. He shortened and narrowed his tongue, making it like a snakes, then pulled out enough to roll it around inside the man's foreskin, prompting another muffled curse. Then he lengthened it and made it thinner, wrapping around the man's cock like a rope and pulling him all the way back into Jordan's throat.

Jordan's cock was straining against his leather shorts, tucked against his currently-skinny thigh in the usually-skintight material. But Jordan wasn't even thinking of touching himself. He couldn't cum before he'd had a chance to eat, and it'd be sweeter to wait anyway. So he dedicated himself to bobbing up and down, stroking the man's cock with his elongated tongue while pumping him and squeezing him with his throat. What Jordan honestly wanted was face-to-face connection. Any inhibition he had about receiving was gone in the face of his starvation. He wanted to squeeze and rub his partner's balls, look into his eyes as he sucked his food directly from the source. There could be a lot of mutual pleasure. He honestly didn't even care if it was the Innkeeper at this point. Hell, maybe he'd be a bit more open to renting a room if he knew this is what Jordan was capable of. Maybe he'd want to share a bed.

A long, hissing curse came muffled from the glory hole and the cock poking through pumped and throbbed mightily. Jordan drove his lips down to the base and waited, squeezing and stroking with his tongue. It didn't take long for him to finally be fed. His eyes rolled back into his head as pleasure flooded his body, sharing a fraction of his partner's pleasure and feeding off of it in more ways than one. As cum pumped into his belly, he could feel strength returning to his body that he hadn't realized he was missing. His cock strained even harder against his shorts, the feeling of his wet and sticky tip pressing into his thigh right on the verge of unpleasant. Jordan tightened and loosened his throat in milking motions, squeezing from the base to the tip of his partner's cock, trying to coax every last drop out.

When the person on the other end finally pulled his cock free, Jordan whimpered, trying to hold onto it with both tongue and throat for longer than he needed to. Even as the orgasm had faded away to tiny dribbles, Jordan just wanted to cling to that feeling forever. He was still hungry, but Incubi at a certain point would also gorge without needing to if they got worked up enough. There was enough conscious parts of his brain to realize this, but also enough lust-drunkenness to not care. He kept mentally noodling with the coin purse under his butt as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the now-vacant glory hole, sticking his tongue through and letting it hang down invitingly. He heard more words in a foreign language, then somebody else obliged him.

His new partner was smaller than the first, but no less delicious. He was also already half-hard when Jordan took him in, so he didn't get to enjoy the pleasure of coaxing him awake in his mouth. But Jordan pleasured him all the same. Sucking the whole of his length in and pulling his throat tight like he would refuse to let the man's cock go. He heard cursing on the other end and knocking on the wall, but he didn't stop. He stroked with his tongue and licked under the man's foreskin and savored the taste of sweat as well as the mixed feelings of lust and Orgone.

It didn't take long at all for this one to climax, Jordan's eyes rolled in his head and his cock throbbed nearly cumming, as more food exploded down his throat. He could feel his body shifting back to how it usually was. His face no longer quite so gaunt, his arms a little fuller, the coin purse under him no longer digging quite so uncomfortably against his bony backside. The feeling was bliss on top of bliss. Even the edge of his hunger was vanishing, but he couldn't have stopped if he tried.

The coin purse under him suddenly released, proving that he was a good enough thief to literally rob people in his sleep, if nothing else. As his second partner withdrew his cock from the glory hole, Jordan felt a momentary conflicting desire between more food and money. When no new cocks entered his mouth after a second or two, he quickly pivoted to money.

Sliding the coin purse out, he opened it and started to shove its contents into the hidden void pockets in his shorts. Whoever the coin purse belonged to, they must have been coming back from selling a pretty massive trade, with nothing else solid to pick up. Traveling with that much hard cash was dangerous, didn't they know there were thieves about?

He was nearly done when he heard voices again, and once more thought they were coming from outside the stall. As he was about to hide the purse again, another cock slid through the hole. Jordan's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he squeaked softly in joy. The cock was large and green, its moss-colored head drooping down nearly a full foot from where the hole was. He hadn't seen an orc coming in, but this was either one of them or a perfect impersonator. Orcs who were famed for their virility, who came three times what the average man did at least, often more. As he finished stuffing the last of the coins into his shorts, Jordan grabbed the orc's cock with his free hand and lifted the head towards his mouth. Then he drove it down to the base as if scared it would run away.

Even for an incubi, not limited by standard biology, it was a stretch. Jordan hummed merrily as his brain washed in pleasure, his throat stretched to the point of real discomfort despite his demonic nature. The rush of lust that came from his partner was so strong it nearly made him pass out after so long going hungry. Whatever cups and buckets of Orgone he had been getting from the last two, this was like trying to drink a river. All Jordan could taste was sweat, and all he could do was moan and pump his lips and tongue up and down the massive shaft in his mouth. Stretching and shifting his throat to accommodate his partner like he was being shaped by him. On the other end, he could hear the muffled deep, earthy grunts of the orc. And with them, the sound of what seemed like tens of other voices.

Jordan's eyes suddenly shot open. His leather shorts stretched painfully tight as his cock swelled and throbbed before the first hot, sticky, messy spurt came out against his thigh, trapped by the stiff, now-skintight material. The pleasure was incredible, untouched and tingling like he was cumming purely from what his brain was doing. He'd never felt anything like it, and as his balls emptied into his pants and he heard the leather squish and creak, Jordan's eyelids fluttered and he let himself drift. Working purely on hunger, pumping his partner and waiting for another load, even if he was no longer hungry.

It had taken very little time for Jordan to lose track of… well… time.

At some point, he'd emptied the coin purse and dropped it on the floor, not caring if the owner came looking for it. His brain had washed out of every thought other than continuing to eat, and how best to please the cocks that came single-file upon him to get more food. After the orc, there had been at least a dozen or two. He might honestly have blown the entirety of the oasis.

And for the first time in his life, Jordan experienced a food coma. He only realized he'd been dozing when he woke up, suddenly somewhat clear-headed again. His shorts were a sticky mess, the thighs caked to his skin with cum. Honestly, he'd came and came without touching himself to the point where he'd gone completely soft, and then he'd cum some more. It was a sticky, awful mess to just move around, but it didn't help that the shorts were now well and truly too tight.

He'd grown a bit of a belly, enough to poke out over his waistband when sitting down, and his thighs had thickened out to the point where his shorts were straining to hold them, the leg holes biting into the soft red flesh. His butt had filled them out enough that his cheeks were poking out both from the top and the bottom. As Jordan stood up, he ached, and he finally managed to pull them down after some groaning and displeasure. But it didn't change the fact that his lower body was as sticky as if he'd bathed in honey. He had slight breasts now to go with his belly, and reaching up he could feel his cheeks had grown chubby. His stomach sloshed as he took a step, heavy with thick liquid. The feeling made a little spark shoot to his groin, and Jordan cupped his balls. But touching them now felt almost wrong.

"That was… something." He grumbled, bunching his dirty shorts up and shaking them next to his ear, making sure they were still full of ill-gotten coins. "Now if they still won't rent me a room, I really will burn this place down."

He stepped out of the booth into the now-empty baths, the sounds of the nighttime desert audible above. He found his bag untouched, jiggling as he walked, and put on his proper uniform before making his way up. To his chagrin, it was now just a hair undersized.

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