Green with envy (and other stuff)

Viscous.

If there were a single word to describe the void I'm floating in, it'd be viscous. Not like a syrup, though, where the stickiness comes from congealed sugars. My flowing down this river in the ether is impeded by things of a less physical nature: darkness, desire, wrath, purpose, lust. Oh my fucking god, the lust. If this were a real river, I'd be splashing, diving, and drinking my fill. This ambient lust mixed with such pointed anger was more powerful than 10 orgasms put together. I'd love to spend an eternity just soaking in the sexy, but a small, rational part of my brain does its damnedest to pull the rest of my attention where it ought to be: the mission I've just had thrust upon me.

I've been called upon by two goddesses to conquer lands, breed women, and claim the world for the Dark. Melanoche, the more dour Dark Goddess, is focused on the reclamation of the world in favor of evil; you know, typical evil overlord stuff. Carnachias, the fun slut of a Goddess, is more about the fornication and breeding. Can't fault either one of them, really; dominance and debauchery go hand-in-hand in my book, and I look forward to making both Goddesses proud. Just the thought of beginning this campaign of conquest gets me going, my tongue playing over my lips. I slaver at the thought of the harem I'd amass, bouquets of pussy arranged to cover the land in a musky, fertile aroma. I couldn't wait to pound village sluts, valkyrie wannabes, and prim little princesses into submission with a monstrous, virile cock...

A sensation utterly foreign to me given my complete lack of any cock.

Melanoche's call to arms seemed odd, given that one of the primary goals of my mission called for anatomy I was obviously without. I figured they'd call on someone already... predisposed for pussy smashing and cum pumping. Sure, I spend half my time lustily fantasizing over how I'd like to ruin most women I meet, but there were probably plenty of men who'd already been able to follow through with that on Earth. To their credit, I developed my own way of breaking bitches, no dick required. If you build up your muscles, work on your charm, and always push the envelope, you'd basically be an urban amazon, claiming whatever piece of ass sat next to you at the bar. I had fun with the little bimbos who threw themselves at me, and got a real kick out of topping any macho meathead who thought he'd be claiming me that night. But the real fun was always in breaking a **** cutie, pressing her buttons, pressing her against the wall, pressing her face into my dripping quim...

I find myself licking my lips again. I may not have the equipment, but I've definitely got the temperament in spades. Yeah, thinking on it, I'm probably one of the better options for this gig. Half of the candidates were probably wimps with unattainable power fantasies who'd fold the instant a woman like me looks them in the eye. No, the Goddesses want someone who lives to make people squirm before putting them in their place.