Sex God Saga Ch. 18

### Sex God Saga 18

### Cult Of The Dragon

MONDAY:

Theo wasn’t getting surveilled every second of the day anymore, since the whole demon plague seemed to have calmed down and the Redeemer weirdos had been subtly pointed at the last few stragglers.

But Paris checked by Ground Up anyway, working on his laptop with the occasional sip from a ‘peppermint special’ until Jim, the manager, vanished into the back office.

Theo stopped by Paris’ table.

“Everything in order, sir?”

The prince smiled and leaned back as if to admire Theo’s body in that yellow uniform. “I heard you had a *lot* of fun last night.”

“Yeah, it’s a miracle I can stand with my legs closed. Are you in contact with Ray or…”

“Sure am. I guess I should be jealous that I wasn’t the one reaching that far into you.”

Theo couldn’t stop smiling in embarrassment. “If you were the jealous type, things would get a lot more complicated. Fulin and I said the big L word to each other.”

Paris nodded with an impressed expression. “Moving fast, but I guess he’s the type to commit to things.”

“Not jealous about that?”

“I’m…” The prince fell silent. He glanced around, a slight gesture throwing a Veil between him and the other patrons. It brushed past Theo like tissue paper on a breeze.

“I’m so into you it’s scary. But… I’ve outlived a few people who are- who were more important to me than I can convey. And I have vague memories, or maybe I should call them impressions, going back to pre-colonial Africa. The bits and pieces I’ve taken from the Stygians in my lineage are mostly good and I’m emotionally detached from them but there’s… a lot of loss.”

“I wasn’t going to make you…” Theo trailed off. “I didn’t think about things from your perspective. I’m not sure I know enough to. Sorry.”

Paris smiled softly. “It means a lot that you try, Theo Travis. Ah, your boss is back. Get me another one of those specials, young man. Maybe the… strawberry one.”

“Right away, sir.”

### ### ###

The backroom still held the memory of that one time he’d been demon fucked and had to escape out the back until he had gotten rescued.

He wasn’t super thrilled having to grab new paper cup sleeves but Jim, his boss, was also in the room, fiddling with the shelves.

Theo scooted past the manager with a grunted apology, reached for the sleeves and-

A Veil went down hard.

What?

Theo sensed the invisible blanket ‘flutter’ out to cover the walls. Jim was *inside* the Veneer of Normalcy. But Jim was a Baseliner. Why-

A stack of cups on the shelf unwound, its glamour snapping away. It revealed itself as a slug, no, snake creature. As thick as Theo’s biceps and twice as long as his arm, with the face of a slug, dripping with iridescent slime.

An Outsider of this size was likely a sprite — not powerful enough to assume a stable roaming form by itself unless it had been fed by a shaman — or sucked the V out of someone for a long time.

The presumably demonic slugsnake spewed ridiculous amounts of slime. Theo dodged the spray while reaching for his phone and summoning. He saw more Outsiders as wobbles along the shelves. If he ran for the door and pulled Jim along-

Jim was possessed. The streak in the air around him was so dense it looked greasy. It darkened the light around the man in the same yellow and gray uniform as Theo wore.

Jim’s face contorted into a grin and the world spun.

Shelves moved as if on conveyors along the walls. The doors, both front and back, vanished from sight as the walls squeezed their existence away.

Theo ripped his spider web ring off and sent a pulse of V into the wisp. “Find Paris!”

Squinty took the shape of a fly and zoomed around Theo’s head.

The Jim demon — Jimmon? — stepped closer, bringing him into grasping distance. The rotating shelves calmed down, leaving a uniformly covered backroom with no exits, everything shifted and rearranged.

Theo stepped back and slipped. Slugsnake had continued to spew and the slime was more slippery than any lube Theo had ever known. He scrambled like a newborn deer on ice, gripping at the shelves without which he’d have fallen.

But the blond had gotten his phone free by now. He poured V into the fancy sigils he had drawn on the back, complex designs doodled over the course of over an hour, ready with a ‘fuck off’ Atlas glyph.

He put it on the shelf with Slugsnake and the sprite was catapulted back, recoiling so hard from the seal it made an audible ‘splat’ on the wall. But the floor was already covered in the slipperiest stuff ever.

Theo looked up at the blinding neon tube. The light, too, had rearranged, giving no clue about which direction the doors were.

The Jimmon was transforming. With a dampened but animal roar, Jim’s hair turned pure white and grew into a mane, his facial hair extending. A full ring of white fluff encircled his head and fangs poked from his lips. Whiskers broke through his cheeks. His skin darkened to an unnatural ash taşova escort as his ears sharpened to a point.

Squinty was still there. The wisp couldn’t leave the illusory trap either. Paris had probably no idea anything was wrong yet.

The white furred lion-man tore a flickering bag off the shelf and threw it at Theo.

The bag transformed into a hand-shape in mid-air, premium coffee beans raining into the slime. Some kind of cloth spook, or a grasping kobold in a fabric vessel.

Theo pulled out a stack of cards full of prepared Atlas glyphs.

Baghand, the floating cloth spook, ripped the cards from Theo’s slippery grip and tore them up between its rough linen fingers.

A can on the floor popped open and its content bloomed. A plant, a beautiful red lily with more closed buds growing beside it.

The Whitelion Jimmon ripped its own uniform off, the manager’s frame now more muscular, ashy with veins running white.

Baghand gripped Theo by the neck and pulled him up, choking lightly with its rough material.

“H-help me,” Theo squeezed from his throat and pushed V at Squinty.

The erratic fly zoomed straight for Whitelion and hit him between the eyes, flashing like a stroboscope. Whitelion recoiled with a feline hiss, its eyes gone — deleted from its face by an illusion.

The pretty lilies next to the big one opened up. Serrated, jagged edges tore open. Venus flytraps but sharper, more tooth-like.

The Venuslilies snapped at Theo, who was held in position by Baghand, and ripped his clothes apart. The apron fell as the straps were chewed through.

Theo dug into his pocket. Had he remembered to take…?

He pulled out his key ring. On it dangled the last glyph he had left. It contained ideas of holding still, freezing.

He pumped it full. His reserves were running low but he had enough V to keep going. Baghand froze but that didn’t help. Theo’s neck remained pinned in mid-air.

The shaman directed the keychain at Venuslily with more success. The plant vines reached him by snapping forward. Arresting their motion meant they fell over instead.

The slick floor shifted. There was another presence. Yet more sprites? No, an oil-film-eye. Just the fucking Watcher.

Theo flipped the eye off and fought Baghand until he stood next to the shelf opposite the one where Slugsnake remained pinned.

He started scratching circles into the metal with his key. A hastily drawn design. But again, the shape of Atlas glyph mattered nothing, only how much thought you put into it. Drawing on metal was tricky while being torn away by the neck constantly.

He tried to make it a prison for Baghand. It wasn’t going to work well with how little time he had, but he had practice with doodles flowing nicely into each other for something elaborate in no time.

If he pumped all his remaining V into it and it got the fabric imp off him for a second-

His pants fell and Venuslily bit him in the dick.

The squelching of steps on lubed floor.

Drunkenness hit Theo, making it hard to fight. He had no more sense of time, feeling almost cozy. He tried to struggle anyway.

Whitelion was back, eyes restored, and ripped the key out of Theo’s hand. With a roar, the muse-demon ripped Theo’s short apart. The Jimmon itself was naked, pulsing with enhanced flesh, and erect. Had Theo’s boss always had a dick this girthy? It was further thickened by the white veins pumping it up like a web trying to make it burst from within.

Baghand maneuvered the shaman to bend over. Venuslily grabbed his legs and spread them.

Theo’s hands were free but the cloth at his neck was impossible to tear or dislodge and Whitelion behind him was too strong to push against.

The Watcher’s lube-eye was directly between Theo’s legs, glaring up at his hole without blinking.

Whitelion entered him from behind and let out a roar that ended with a catlike whine.

At the sensation of the ultra-vein-riddled dick sliding into him, Theo’s semi-hardon went erect. He flexed in the grip of cloth and vines as Jim’s muscled-up body hammered his hips.

There was no escape. He was completely closed off from the world. Maybe Paris would eventually sense that he was gone too long and realize the door had vanished from awareness.

Sense! Theo had a way to seeing the outside even if he couldn’t communicate.

Neither the Veil, nor the illusion hid the Noosphere. Theo tried to sense where the jumble of motivations and feelings was concentrated.

Just ahead of him, beyond the bricks, was a faint sliver of drives and instincts. He twisted. Exactly behind him was a denser mass of hopes and dreams.

So the coffee shop lay behind him, while the back alley was right in front, maybe with some bored teens smoking. Now if he could touch the wall…

Theo arched his back and leaned into the fuck, shivers racing from his inner walls. His erection was slapping his abs. He let loose his power.

Whitelion got a max level fuck and tavşanlı escort rammed deeper, harder, faster. Theo got pushed forward with every thrust. Baghand kept him bent, Venuslily kept his legs apart. But they did nothing to keep his sneakers from sliding on the lube.

The wall came into reach. Theo wiggled his hands around with a morsel of V at the tips and felt Squinty land in his palm.

The wall was right there. Theo got to put his hands between random boxes on the shelf to keep from sliding any further and touched the bricks. He roamed the area by touch. Unless Whitelion had godly powers, his glamour wasn’t going to be perfect.

Theo sent Squinty at the wall and almost instantly, the fly revealed a handle, pushing itself from unawareness back into reality.

With his voice trembling, Theo let out a triumphant cry. He’d stumble out into sunlight in a second. If he was lucky, the Jimmon would expand the Veil, otherwise he had to be prepare to sacrifice all his stored V and drain himself of something, maybe Vibrancy, to make sure the Baseliners on the other side remained ignorant.

He steeled himself, recalled Squinty and pushed the door open.

Blinding daylight.

“Now. To Paris.”

The fly escaped.

To Theo’s surprise, Baghand and Venuslily let him go. Whitelion’s thrust sent the shaman slipping and he stumbled down three stairs with lube-slick shoes.

The demonic tipsiness faded quickly.

Three men were waiting for him. Dark clothes, ski masks, already forming a semi-circle around the fucked blond.

Theo summoned and- Holy shit, they were *all* possessed.

One of the men nodded at the others. The shortest among them waved and the Outsider within him drifted in. They worked together? Those guys were conjurers.

Theo felt as if asleep and yet remained standing. He felt himself walk like somebody was gripping his limbs and making him do the motions. The men parted to reveal a dark van. Theo moved toward it and his consciousness faded out.

### ### ###

He was in a forest, naked, kinda cold. Unless he’d been asleep for over 24 hours, it was barely an hour after his abduction since the sun was still well above the horizon.

Theo had woken up standing. He was inside a circle of poured chalk, with symbols of more spilled substances at the rim. Sand, wet earth, burning incense, scrolls.

Six men stood around the circle, all wearing monk robes in dark red, their faces… They wore hoods but that shouldn’t have kept their faces so perfectly veiled. Some magic was keeping Theo from truly noticing his captor’s faces.

He tried to move, feeling as if pushing through a viscous substance.

The men stepped toward him, into the circle.

Everything *flipped*. Reality turned upside down as if the circle had been a plate tipping over.

They appeared on a beach.

Bright, rugged chalk cliffs extended into a roiling ocean, a path dipping toward the water for a sandy beach. The chalky ground was covered in grass so coarse and dense it felt like stepping on moss under Theo’s naked feet.

The sky looked painted, clouds spiraling around a light source too diffuse to be the sun.

Theo and the six hooded men were in a demiplane.

Muses stepped out of the men’s bodies. Humanoid beings made of natural matter. The sand muse slid toward the beach, followed by one made from water, a fire muse flared and ascended, a smoke one followed, the chalk and grass muses appeared to dissolve into the ground.

The men grabbed Theo and pulled him along.

“W-what are you doing?”

He was met with only silence and firmer grips. Struggling against the Outsider-supported cultists was impossible.

The naked blond stumbled onto the beach, white cliffs rising to the sides. The water churned unnaturally. There was a flat slab of chalk, like an altar. Theo was forced to lay down on it.

He hardly had a choice. His feet pointed to the ocean, he only saw water, sky and the men who stepped back.

The sand muse rose beside his head, the fire muse sank from the false sun on the other side. Together they touched their chunky, ill-defined appendages to Theo’s neck.

Matter was created from nothing. Metal, crude and chunky. It wrapped around Theo’s neck barely more comfortable than barbed wire. Then more flowed onto his wrists, his ankles and finally around his package. He held still for fear of getting cut but his breath went fast.

The powerful Outsiders stepped away and a wisp descended on Theo’s neck. The metal lightened and bent, shaving drizzled off the collar as it turned into a minimal ring of silver, just tight enough to stay in place without choking the shaman, as long as he didn’t move his neck weird.

The wisp circled around his limbs, making the cuffs pretty, smooth and tight. At last the sizzle in the air descended on the package and shaped the crude metal into a tight cock cage, its bars not symmetrical but organic like a web. Therein the wisp remained.

The red tekirdağ escort robed cultists and their elemental jinns had taken position in a semi-circle around the altar, looking out at the sea.

Something bubbled a strong stone’s throw off the coast. Cold wind blew metal shavings off the altar and made Theo shiver.

A serpent rose from the water. A light brown serpent with reddish koi-like coloration. Its head was big enough to rival a car, its face a bit like a Chinese dragon.

It had to be the god of this demiplane. And it was swimming closer.

The dragon’s body was long as a train, mostly still underwater. Theo was pulled into the air, helplessly flailing. He vaguely screamed in anticipation, like before the drop on a rollercoaster.

Several yard in the air, Theo stared at the oncoming god in the vessel of a sea dragon. It was going to fuck him, wasn’t it? There was no surviving that. Hopefully it would be instant but even a single second was going to feel so, so bad. Not how Theo had wanted to go out.

He thought of Keith and Paris and was almost mad he had thought of Keith first. He thought only of Paris on purpose. The prince who wouldn’t even know where Theo had gone. That also felt so, so bad.

The dragon held still, a foot from Theo, towering over the hovering blond. It roared sounding like half whale song, half volcanic eruption.

A sensation like Fulin’s cock spreading his ass entered Theo’s feet. Bizarre, disconcerting and intense as fuck. It expanded up his calves. Theo’s eyes watered. He squeaked through gritted teeth and felt his dick straining against the cage.

The sense of his body being a slow-mo explosion extended to his knees, into his thighs. It was more fuck-sensation than he would have been able to imagine.

With every muscle in his leg involuntarily spasming, Theo let his power loose and gave the dragon the max pleasure it was clearly after. The magical stretching traveled into his glutes, his hole and guts, his lower abs.

Getting ripped around by spasms, the victim continued to flail in md-air. He screamed until he was out of breath, kept screaming silently until darkness seeped into the corners of his vision and inhaled with a cry to scream all over again.

The effect crept along. Abs, chest, back. Since when did he have this many muscles in his back? Holy fuck, the nipples!

The fuck-splosion radiated into his arms and head at the same time. He went blind, or maybe he was pressing his eyes shut — he couldn’t even tell that much.

The god-rape was too great to judge it as good or bad. It was ‘awesome’ in the old, religious sense.

But that had just been the insertion. The dragon sent pulses, crawling from Theo’s foot soles to his scalp, every muscle feeling like his hole was sitting on two Fulin-level dicks.

Shouts and other noise drifted into his awareness.

The god-rape faded slightly. Theo regained vision, or maybe managed to get control of his eyelids. The dragon was retreating into the ocean.

Something was happening behind Theo. He had little control over his movements, stuck hovering, but flailed to ‘swim’, turning onto his stomach.

He continued to get tele-fucked by the dragon, so his moves were interrupted with random spasms, but he eventually turned upside down.

Wow, he had floated pretty high into the fake sky.

There was a battle.

Fulin and Mako had their dogs out. Weidong was a spectral wolf but more substantial than Theo had ever seen it, Everest was bigger and even a bit monstrous.

The Broodguard, the foregedancer and their familiars engaged a cultist and his chalk jinn. Fulin’s barehanded blows chipped away at the enemy Outsider’s body, the wisps in his yin and yang hand-tattoos aiding his strength along with Weidong’s power. Everest bit the cultist.

Keith was walking in an area of darkness, oozing from him. He was hounding a cultist who clutched his head as if suffering a migraine.

Team alpha was there, Godrick, Dawn and Alessandra engaging a smoke jinn with the ginger woman hanging back, looking through a telescope and Godrick carrying a bronze shield with engraved runes.

Ray shot lightning, sending a cultist down with taser spasms. Mo was along and threw himself at the downed redrobe.

Greyson and Cristiano White were nearly impossible to look at, shining as if wildly on fire as they drove back a water jinn. Ace, Aaron and Duke were carried in by the red-feathered crane dragon Zhulong and spun around a sand jinn which struggled against the wind of the wing flaps. Ace dropped and headed for a cultist with his dagger, Blood Drop, aimed high.

Everybody wore normal clothes, with team alpha in combat gear. Bodybuilder Jun was stark naked. He solo-ed the jinn of earth and grass. Jun carried a stone short sword but only used the free hand to beat the enemy back. Dense earth dusted aside under his one-hand pummeling.

Far back, something or someone engaged the fire jinn, too bright to see.

Brielle Boyd and two other female shamans walked after the remaining two cultists. Those redrobes were trying to flee, but one of the women — Paisley Linwood, Kenya’s daughter, Theo vaguely recalled — had a rooster sprite that slowed the men down as if they ran through molasses. Brielle spun an egg in her hand, tossed it and it detonated into sticky yellow that kept the cultists stuck.