Wyld Conquest

It's dark, you feel weightless, you're floating...

You've had this dream before. You jumped the fence to escape somebody's dog, loose near the ball court. You were fourteen. You were quick, you got over without being bitten, but you lost your grip as you swung your body over to the other side. You fell. It felt like you were falling forever. Luckily the fall wasn't bad. You hurt your pride more than your rear end as some other kids laughed from the sidewalk.

"It's just a dream, just relax, feel the wind and you'll wake up soon enough," you tell yourself before your eyes shoot open, "Wind?! There's no wind in dreams! Fuck!"

As it dawns on you the reality of your situation you begin to make out the stars of a night sky and a bright moon. Meaning there can only be ground below you as the familiar pull of gravity tells you how close you are.

You scream, "Woah woah woah!! Please be soft! Please be soft! Please be-"

*Krakkoww*

*Krak* *Krikt*

*SBLAM*

You felt your fall being slowed. By wood. Probably some nails. A house. You landed on a fucking house. But as your vision begins to unblur you think to yourself, you landed in the house.

The roof you landed on wasn't soft. Or the support beam under it. Or the floor on the upper level you crashed through, but you finally feel something soft....and sticky?

"Oww...fuck me. I can't feel- no it's still there. The hell did I land on? Red, sticky, delicious... I'm dead aren't I?" You say. First to yourself, then to the moon in the new sky light your body made.

"No asshole, but you're about to be!" an irate and feminine voice shouts at you.

You look around and the surrounding area starts to come into focus.

You realize you're on a broken dinning table on top of a cake. To your left you see two figures, one of which is pointing an arrow in your face.

"Off the cake pervert!" comes the voice with the crossbow. It's not very deep or intimidating, but your disoriented state and the colour of the combatant are enough to get your entire attention.

The voice shouting at you comes from a wide hipped, perky titted, red skinned beauty. She looks quite young despite the vicious pout and she's definitely a beauty with gold eyes staring daggers at you under platinum blonde waves... Wait... Red skin??

You stare harder, small horns jut from the sides of her head, and her figure is draped in a pair of black panties and a matching sports bra.

Cake? So that's probably the sticky stuff under you. A cake. And a dinner table, or more specifically the smashed leftovers of both.

You mind has started to shake like an aging Karate Kid actor as it works overtime to make sense of what you see. "I'm in hell aren't I? Shouldn't your horns be bigger?"

That comment was apparently not how you make a good first impression on a demon. "excuse you?!" she replies, even more agitated. It is terrifying, but the subtle jiggle of her hips from her shifting her weight back and forth is getting your attention better than the crossbow arrow to the face.

Do you go to hell for lusting after a demon. Well, if you're already in hell... You muse in your head if the arrow is all that dangerous. You can't die twice, can you?

The soothing voice of the second red skinned woman joins the conversation, "Dear calm down, can't you see the healthy young man is confused?"

The softer voice comes from the taller more mature figure. The taller red haired figure smiles at you warmly with the same gold eyes of the angrier diminutive figure. A figure that now looks even more diminutive next to the stacked hourglass of the softer voice. Large round tits that could probably be the same size as your head, healthy full hips and a cinched waist. She wears a top of satin that curves around her cleavage and a wrapped skirt of similar material that flows to her feet with a split for her thigh. The matronly has you almost speechless. Almost.

"Healthy?" The word leaves your mouth with curiosity and interest.

The buxom demon woman smiles, "Very. You've brought quite the horn of your own."

It's just now that the full picture of your current state clicks. You are naked. All 6'2" of ebony skin for display in front of these, admittedly sexy, strangers. For better of worse you are also at full mast. As you look down at your God given gift and back up to the buxom demon woman, you see her smile widen. Was that directed at you or your your...

You aren't sure if demons blush, but the smaller red skinned woman turned even redder, "Mom!"

A playful pout appears on the face of the woman with the more mature figure, "Couldn't you have called me big sis? Suppose he's not into older women."

The smaller woman grumbles before staring daggers at her mother, "Wha-"

You muster the most stoic face you can in your position to push yourself into this conversation, "I'm very much into older women if they look like you ma'am."

The motherly demon smiles at you, "Aww, thank you sweetie. Call me Almara please, ma'am makes me feel old. This is my daughter Ixy."

You look at the red women and start to focus more on Ixy as she still has an arrow in your face.

"James. Duin James. Could you lower that maybe? Ixy?"

The arrow doesn't move. She has the same scowl as she speaks, "That's Ms. Drexel to you. And you will address my mother as Mrs. Drexel. Pervert."

Duin: "l don't see how I'm a-"

*whoosh*

The draft from the new skylight you opened reminds you again. You are naked.

The stillness of this exchange hangs in the air.

You cough, "To be fair I'm not sure how I got here or where my clothes are."

"But you seem pretty comfortable." She glares at your standing erection.

"...This is a very adrenaline filled situation. My flight or fight response has obviously malfunctioned in where my blood is flowing." Are you trying to convince yourself or the women?

Ixy responds dryly Obviously...."

Almara places a hand on her daughter's weapon and lowers it from your face, " Ixy dear, put your weapon away, while I help Mr. Duin put his weapon away. Come along dear I should have something that can fit you and then we can discuss things."