The curse

Pauline’s knees hit the concrete, bare skin scraping against the rough, ground. Her body had changed immediately, she become accustomed to the way her legs bent forward and the hardness of her hoofs now she was soft again, week.

She cursed Joe, now she was stuck in front of Ethan's pathetic house, naked and human, She called out sure that Joe could hear her

"Why, I did what you asked, why punish me"

A voice in her head appeared, it was not her own

"I promised the boy a night of excess not an hour, fail me again and I will show you who you would look if I hadn't saved you when you were 18"

Pauline got to her feet, rain was starting to fall, she walked over to a car and saw reflected in the glass of its window a woman who was strangely familiar, realisation hit her like a hammer and for the first time in her life she felt real fear"

Staring back at her was a husk, orange matted hair that would break the bristles of any brush crowned a head that was caked in a mixture of rashes and boils, her jowls were well fed from a steady diet of McDonalds and Greggs, the body was stretched by with evidence of 5 separate births, Pauline was sure that she could hear the screams of the brats in her mind, the breasts were two folds of loose skin and varicose veins and she was glad that she could not see the reflections cunt as a large fold of flesh covered it.

She closed her eyes and prayed, to her dark master, "Please don't make it so, you own me now, I will never fail you again"

Her eyes opened and she was in an Alley, her heart was thumping in her chest, she was closer to home, but still a good distance, she had been rewarded, she looked down and saw her magnificent breast soaked in rain water.

The stink of the alley clawed into her nostrils#, rot, exhaust, piss, sex. She was trembling, breath hitching in her chest, but not from fear. Her cunt was still wet, still throbbing, still alive with the aftershocks of Ethan’s ruin and the knowledge that she must do better, she had to go further. Every pulse between her thighs reminded her of what she had just been, horned, clawed, hoofed, a daemoness straddling a boy and fucking his soul away.

The city buzzed around her the wet streets, laughter spilling from bars, the low hum of engines passing. She had no clothes, no mask. Just her skin, slick with sweat and cum, glistening under the streetlights.

She sculked through the shadows, very aware of how weak she now was.

The first man saw her before she even left the alley. A delivery driver, helmet still on, pushing his bike and standing against a wall to take a piss. He froze, cock in his hand, eyes wide as headlights when she stepped out, naked, dripping, her breasts bouncing faintly with the sway of her stride.

Pauline stopped in front of him, watching his hand jerk up to cover himself, piss splattering down his boot. She tilted her head, forked tongue gone now but her lips still curling cruelly.

“Do you want to finish pissing,” she asked softly, “or do you want to finish inside me?”

His jaw dropped. The helmet muffled his words, but his cock was already twitching in his fist. He managed a nod.

Pauline smiled, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him back against the cold brick. Her hand wrapped around his shaft, slick with his own piss, and guided it between her thighs. She squatted down, impaling herself in one stroke, nails digging into his jacket as she ground down hard. He gasped, almost sobbed, and she rode him like a beast, her cunt still raw from Ethan but greedy for more.

He lasted seconds. She felt him pulse, spill, hot and frantic, and she laughed in his face, pulling off him before he was done, his cum splattering uselessly against the wall. She slapped him across the helmet and left him panting, trousers around his knees.

And she walked out into the street.

The city was alive tonight Pauline moved through it like a predator, naked skin glowing beneath the lights, every man who saw her hardening, every woman who saw her was jealous A group of girls shrieked when she passed, stumbling in heels, clutching each other as if the sight of a perfect, naked blonde walking through their night was a threat. Pauline just smirked. Their boyfriends couldn’t take their eyes off her anyway.

A pair of them followed, drunk lads in football shirts, stumbling close, muttering filth. She let them circle her, let them corner her by the bins of a kebab shop. Their cocks were hard before they’d even touched her. She pressed her back against the wall, spread her legs, and hooked one finger in the air.

“You get my cunt,” she said, voice a growl. “But you both eat me first.”

They didn’t hesitate. They dropped to their knees, one burying his face between her thighs, unknowingly tasting two other men, the other sucking at her tits. Pauline moaned, head back, hand gripping one by the hair and grinding his face harder into her wetness. She didn’t care about them. She cared about the eyes that stared from across the street, an old man by the bus stop, a cab driver with his window rolled down, all of them watching her feed her hunger with young flesh.

When they tried to slide their cocks into her, she made them beg. Made them whimper for permission. Made them agree to every filthy word she spat at them. Only then did she squat low, straddling one, her cunt devouring him while the other shoved his cock into her mouth. She gagged on him deliberately, eyes burning, spit dripping down her chin, before biting him just hard enough to make him yelp.

She came, once, twice, body shuddering around them. But she didn’t give them the satisfaction of finishing. She pulled off mid-thrust, leaving them hard, dripping, whining, and strode away with their spit and sweat slicking her thighs.

The craving didn’t stop. Each release only sharpened the hunger. Pauline’s clit burned, her nipples ached, her thighs trembled. She needed more. She needed what she’d had with Ethan, the tail, the penetration, the sensation of being inside as well as out. But her body was only flesh now, fragile, human. She had to improvise.

She found a cabbie willing to take her, but only after she crawled across his lap naked in the back seat, tongue dragging over the steering wheel, her cunt grinding against the leather. She made him agree, his breath hitching, sweat pouring down his forehead, that he’d take her anywhere she wanted so long as she let him fuck her mouth at every red light. And she did, his cock filling her throat while traffic horns blared, his cum spilling down her chin while pedestrians pretended not to stare.

By the time she shoved him out of his own car and drove it herself, her jaw ached, her cunt was slick, and her body throbbed with the sick joy of degradation turned to power. Every man she took was another step closer to home, another way to remind herself that even without horns and claws, she was still a predator.

Pauline abandoned the cab a block from her tower. She climbed out, cum streaking her thighs, hair tangled, tits bouncing in the cold night air. People gasped, shouted, laughed. Phones came out, flashes strobed, voices called after her. She didn’t care. Let them film. Let the whole city see her.

She strode into the lobby of her building barefoot, dripping, cum drying on her stomach. The night porter stood up, eyes wide, stammering something about police. Pauline walked straight up to him, cupped his face in both hands, and kissed him deep, tongue forcing its way into his mouth, swallowing his gasp. Then she whispered against his lips:

“You’ll say nothing. You’ll dream of me every night. And you’ll never, ever tell.”

His cock was already straining in his trousers. She slapped it once, hard, then left him panting at his desk.

The elevator carried her up, mirrors reflecting her wrecked beauty—tits swollen, cunt swollen, thighs sticky, hair wild. She looked amazing.

When the doors opened, she stumbled barefoot down the hall, fumbling her keys, then finally burst into her penthouse. The silence swallowed her, cold and sharp after the chaos of the city. She staggered to the window, pressed her naked body against the glass, and looked out at the lights below.

Her cunt was still wet. Her nipples still hard. Every nerve in her body screamed for more.

She closed her eyes, pressed her forehead to the glass, and whispered into the night.

“Bring me back. Make me the daemon again. Please.”

her hand went to her dripping slit and two fingers plunged in.

Her orgasm came quick, violent, shaking her body against the glass. She screamed, forehead against the window, thighs clenching around her hand. When it ended, she collapsed to the floor, panting, cum pooling beneath her.

But the craving didn’t fade. It never would.

The end!