Today I Danced with a Devil (Finished)

It’s one of those days, where everything that can conceivably go wrong, does. They’re the kind of thing you hear about, or like when a friend sends you a mind-message about how shitty everything was at work. You don’t think it happens to you.

But it does. All you’re left with is a haze and funk of pure frustration, without resolutions. Force-matter generator not working? Cabling dated and the shipping company no longer providers the wiring necessary to crimp new endpoints? Reset module fall into the heat shaft requiring four maintenance teams to safely open it for retrieval?

It’s like a bad sitcom, starring you, except there’s no guest-star to drop a catchphrase and make it all better. So, you do the one thing you know to relieve some steam: jack the fuck off.

Except screw that. You’re at your wit's end. Days like these set you back so far in spirit you feel like starting a new life as an asteroid miner on Celliax 4.

Fortunately, that particular set of insanity is reserved for another time. Instead, you’ve got other plans. Something you’ve juggled within your head, but never had the gumption for. Strip club.

Oh, but not any strip club. No no. You’ve ridden up in your Mark 33 Jump-Truck to a pillar of searing neon colors you didn’t know existed. The seductive arms of bright light reach into deep space, crowning a fat asteroid that hums with every form of life this side of Urlian.

The title reads [Error: Translation Not Available]. You don’t recognize the sprawl of symbols etched over its entrance and, at the moment, you don’t particularly care. Miner Basic passed enough and the only language that mattered was creds.
You park, slink out, adjust to the gravity and go in.

Sensory overload doesn’t do the place justice. Your brain gets brewed with colors not meant for hominod optics and scents from fourteen kinds of drugs filter through your lungs. If you didn’t have those Tox-B-Gone implants, you’d be dead. Seats rise and fall on the dark floors with a discord of beat-dripping music filled with creatures straight out of a Geiger drug trip.
That’s nice, but your eyes are elsewhere.

Gaze adjusts, and it’s the girls that grab you (or who you want to grab). They’re a spectacle, like they should be. Beasts and slender figures with curves for days tossing their hips in gentle throws, letting flesh wobble in jubilation. Spotlights roam over them like so many greedy hands, dancing on stockings, piercings, bodies.

You can already feel the day melting off. So you find a seat in this forest of debauchery, which doesn’t take long. But you’re alone, and you’re fresh meat, and they see it. They saw it the moment you went through the bouncers.

Did she spy you with one of her bright, golden eyes? Or maybe she just smelled “hard day’s work” human amidst the poison funk of hunter-killers from across the Belt. It doesn’t matter. Before you settle in, before one of the shortstacks drifts by to offer you a platter of their finest hallucinogens, she’s on you. Well, not yet.

You lean back into the ring-seat’s comfortable leathers, closing your eyes. The music pounds your ears for a while. You open your eyes. She’s there.

“Now what’s a little speck like you doing in here?”

The rumbly, feminine voice slips over you like fine silk.

Your gaze hits a form several hands higher than you, easily. Hints of sinewy muscle dance through a supple, screaming pink scaly body with a bust easily twice the size of your skull. Wide hipped, thick thighed, a tail whipping about. All four eyes roaming over you like you’re tonight’s dinner accompanied by incandescent horns and a smile touched by satin glaze.
She’s a literal titty monster. Your heart skips a beat or two hundred.

You rub your eyes. Nope, she’s not a fever dream. She confirms this by leaning over the dancer table positioned between her and you, her fat, heavy breasts squishing into the flat of it – granted, they’re adorned with some concoction of leather and spikes.
She props herself on shoulders, and you can make out her fat ass just ever so gently swaying from side to side.

“Uh, well. . .”

Great start, you think. She laughs. Or roars?

“A brave speck, oh yes. Easy pickings for anyone here. Not safe, all on your own. Good way to get hurt, little speck.”

Well now you’re perplexed. Was this a threat or, were you in danger? Ah, who cares, you think.

“Ah, who cares,” you say. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.”

This amuses her, because her maw is tugged with a grin.

“What a brave speck. What a brave man. But bravery only gets you so far.”

You scratch your head. Was this a philosophy course? You failed that back in semis, you didn’t need a repeat in a place where alien hookers licked your balls.

“I can stay with you, you know. Keep you safe, keep you entertained?”

Her tail came to drape over her shoulder, linger in front of her lips, where she kissed it. One of her four eyes winked.
Well, protection wasn’t exactly the kind of come on you expected, but she was creative, you had to admit. And. . . she was big. And muscly. And everything in the club – aside from the girls – looked like it could bifurcate you in fourteen different ways.
You shrug. This is what you’re here for.

“Dunno’ about brave, but definitely like the entertainment, miss, uh?”

Satisfied with your decision, she leans closer, and her frothy, fat tits are within grabbing distance – aside from the terrifying spike-bra.

A claw roams over your cheek, with a surprising gentleness. “Oh, you call me what you want. . .”
You shudder, and the good kind, the kind that makes you think of draining your dick in some exotic entity instead of the absolute hellshow your day had been.

Unfortunately, this makes you brain not work good when naming names.

“Devil?” you mutter out. Oh, wonderful, brilliant name. Well, it would do. Calling the monstrous gal something like ‘slut’ or ‘whore’ didn’t exactly illicit thoughts of a pleasant outcome.

Her predatory smile does not fade. Rather, she leans yet closer over the table, bending to lower to your height, granting cheek a warm, soft kiss. Nnf. It tingles, like her lips are laced with drugs, and you wonder where else they might go. . .
Her nose flares, and gaze spots your crotch, which is doing its thing of ‘let me the fuck out of here now, please.’
“Enjoying yourself?”

You give an honest smile. “Starting to.”

As if on cue, your ‘Devil’ shifts from the table, coming round to sit next to you on the ring couch. Her massive size is pronounced further here as she looks down, head starting to lower. Another hand, this one a bit riskier, goes for your crotch. So do those delicious tits and-

“W-whao, hang on, uh!” The spikes. “You uh, can you uh take that off? It’s really… thorny.”

You don’t mind the rest of her – the stockings,  heels, the body, but you do need your eyes for work.

She rumbles in laughter, unfastening the top. “Ahh, I forget, men are not so fond, cocks are a little more sensitive, yes?”

You didn’t want to know what that implied, but you nod. “Yeah.”

She tossed the top, and her heavy, thick bust jostled free, heavy sacs tipped with dark nips accenting her strikingly pink scales. You had a mind to reach over and squeeze the damn things, if you could even lift them. But, you were distracted by the skillful unfastening of your pants, as claws undid button and belt with practiced diligence.

You had nothing to say, only everything to watch as the drag-, the de-, the dino. . . the fat assed interstellar stripper pulled you free, letting aroused cock spring into the club air. It felt good, like the hazy setting was ticking you from balls to tip. That was quickly replaced by Devil’s silky palm, embracing you in a gentle grip. She hissed in amusement.

You leaned back, the couch feeling comfier than it ever had, and parts of you wanted to close your eyes and drink in this haze. But no, you had to see her.

She wasn’t content to just hasten you free. No, her head lowered, and her supple, hot lips came to quickly pressed upon your tip with another kiss. You tensed. NNF. That same tingling sensation ran through your loins, and with no condom to rob you of sensation, you were free to enjoy the sticky lips smacking against your needy cock.

“Ggh, please do that again,” you say, because once isn’t enough. Her four eyes glance at you, then stay.

“Ohh?”

She repeats. Her soft, satin-glazed lips return to the end of your mast and wrap around the inches, pursing as she suckles upon it. Then presses them, your bulbous end pancaking against the seams of her lips. She tosses your cock in hand, letting it rub across her maw, smearing you with traces of black. Proof you’ve been kissed by a Devil.

“Ohmm, yes little speck, yes. Did you think this was how your day might end? Seeing such a big creature like me submit to your precious malehood?”

You were hot like a smoldering iron, and her words weren’t helping (or were they?). She continued to worship your inches, drape every bit of it with kisses as she leaned on the couch, forming marks where her lips met.

“Mhmhmhm. I will make you a king here, little speck.”

She shifted once more, and you could only huff in a sexual delirium. The dancer table automatically moved too, granting her more room, as the massive demon-dragon-alien positioned herself to all fours.

While she was large enough that she might as well have been your height – even on knees – the message was clear. It was one thing to have a hooker do your bidding, but someone like this. . .

You couldn’t even remember why you came into the club. Your entire universe was getting off to this demoness.

She grinned, an expression that looked like death, and yet all it meant was her lips kissed you a few more times, before her tongue started to straddle the edge of your mast. A long, serpentine tongue pranced from her maw to sliver and coil about your inches, choking it with a warm wetness. You jerk, aching for more, the whole of your mast twitching in delight.

Her tongue retracted, and she pressed her cheek into your length, rubbing the tip into the velvet scales. Then, her claws gripped you yet again, slapping her visage in submissive play, laughing as your wet flank stuck to her cheek and echoed with lewd little claps.
“Don’t close your eyes, speck,” she said. “Watch me worship you. So many wanted me tonight, but now, I am only for you.”
This was probably a lie to enhance the fantasy but, oh gods you didn’t care anymore. If you died nutting into some Devil in the guts of an asteroid strip club, then it was all worth it.

So you watched. Her supple lips wrapped around the tip of your length and suckled, rumbling the prick with her throaty moans, eyes locked to yours. Your hands clenched the couch in desperation, resisting the temptation to burst while her warm maw tugged at your hungry loins.

She teased you by squeezing your tip with a few drags of the lips, not quite taking the ‘whole’ of you, massive clawed hands on your knees as her thick, full rump tossed in gentle sways.

Her head dipped a moment, maw mouthing at your sack, those warm lips suckling and smacking against your broiling balls. You can only muster a groan, watching her tongue dance over your testes. Her motions are enthusiastic, determined, as though the only thing that matters right now is getting you off.

Eventually, your cock is dripping with sticky saliva and the glaze of her black lipstick, giving you a moment’s respite. And you’re surprised. By now, you figured you would’ve lost it – but something about this place, the haze of interstellar narcotics and exotic alien babes – it’s kept you hard and hungry.

“Getting warmed up?” says the Devil. You don’t have much to respond with, any pretense of “witty retorts” has long left you.
She knows it. You’re a puddle in her claws. . . or might be soon enough.

This time, it’s not her lips that greet your bellend, its her buxom bust. Massive tits swollen with size come heaving on your lap, and they prison your defiant human flagpole in the nation of alien bust. The tip of your flank barely peaks between the pink orbs, though the Devil isn’t content to let you sit there.

Her claws mash the thick, milky breasts together, choking your veiny malehood in a sea of silky scales, rubbing you in crashes and dives. GNN. You groan again, this time louder. Her lips come to purse again at your tip, but you’re not content to sit idle anymore.
As she smacks her fat tits together, wiggling them against your malehood, your chance-taking fingers dive out to tug and squeeze her dark-hued nips.

“Getting braver, aren’t you?” she rumbles in between sucks, pushing her squished tits forward.

You twist and toy with the generous nips, and you shove your palms into the heavy sacs, mingling with her fingers. Fuck yes, you think. Over and over the words hit your brain.

You start grinding, because the little animal in your brain is out of its cage and it wants more. Specifically, it needs to nut. So, you desperately hump into the grip of heavy tits, hips smacking into scales, cock-tip nudging those sweet, suckling lips.
Perhaps she senses your urgency. She slows down, much to your chagrin – that’s the last thing anyone wants when their cock needs release.

“Oh, not that way, little speck. Let’s not waste this. Don’t you want to drain yourself inside me, brave man?”

Before you respond, the behemoth beauty raises up, towering over you. Your mind flashes with want, your aching loins twitching with heavy lust. She looks you over, maw dripping with saliva and pre, before grinning.

“Don’t want to crush your bones, do we, brave man?”

You blink. Then, you understand. Ah, yes, nothing quite kills the mood than a snapped pelvis and crushed abdomen – though the insane, fuck driven hunger inside of you dared to imagine this dancing queen grinding you with her plump, enormous ass.
“Maybe when I have a death wish,” you say. She rumbles with a small laugh, her hips swaying gently.

She turns now, as her full, bubbly buttocks swing into view. Fuck me, you think. She has an ass for months, and it’s not just the size difference. Her clawed hands reach under the weight of the busty backside, squeezing, lifting, letting the pink slopes rumble with soft jiggles. You want it.

Taking to the table, she settles herself neatly on all fours, pushing her thick buttocks out for display, letting massive tail slide to the side.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” she chides, head turned, throwing her hips in quick sashays, coaxing you on.
“Well it’s all for you,” she continues, bending so that she’s propped on all fours upon table. The cleft of her exposed, sodden nether region comes into view, dark as deep space.

“Must feel good, yes?” she hissed. “Knowing you’re the only seed that gets to be inside me.”

Well, you’re up now, having let those pants fall to the floor, regardless of how awkward it is. You go to her, and immediately let your palms clap against the weighty backside. You spread the screaming-pink cheeks, release them, let them jiggle together as the Devil chortles in roary amusement, wiggling her fat ass. Her hips rise and fall, letting them bounce into your grip as you can’t help but obsessively stroke, knead, squeeze, and smack every inch of this glorious bottom.

You don’t know if she’s telling the truth. But you don’t care. The idea that this belongs to you, this beast and her assets, sends you into overdrive.

You press your tip against her lower lips. . . and a part of you wonders about protection or disease. Then, that part stops caring. If you die from a flesh eating virus transmitted through alien coitus, things could be worse.

She shudders, and so do you. The end of your shaft traces over the outer lips, a little taste and tease, causing her to instinctively buck against your rod. She looks back, curious, spreading a bit more, her tail coiling around your back to draw you in closer.
“Now, now, don’t keep a predator waiting. . .”

Didn’t have to tell you twice! Your arms spread and hug the thick, full ass while your instincts take over, plunging you into the tunnel of twisted demon-dragon puss. She grunts, the first little moan you’ve heard from her, and it entices you more. Because you want more.
You slam your hips as deep as you can into the confines of her sodden tunnel, rotating your hips to feel the suckling walls clamp around you. She’s damn tight, more than you could’ve expected for a size difference so noticeable.
But she’s not content to sit idle either. Though on all fours, she rams her fat, wobbly cheeks into you as they bounce upon your hips, meeting thrust with thrust. Her serpent tongue hangs and a gaggle of pleased noises start pouring from her maw.
“Fuck yes. . .” you mutter, because that’s about as eloquent as you can manage now.
You let the movements do the talking for you. Your hands delve into the squishy bottoms and hips, finding anything to grip for dear life as you piston yourself into that sopping alien hole. Like a pent up animal your loins crash into her backside with ballistic, hammering strikes, causing her to whine aloud over the raucous of the club music.

Each smack of hips to rump causes her rump to erupt in a wave of jiggles, while drops of pre and saliva and sex fall to the floor. You watch her buckle forward, her rump raise and breasts squish into the auto-table, four eyes clamped close with pleasure.
She’s tight, coaxing, soft, hot, everything and more. How was this possible, you didn’t know. But you had to have it all, release yourself into her because life itself was fading in the background and the only thing that mattered was pumping ever bit seed you had into this darling dino demo.

“Such a p-proud, powerful cock!” she moaned, smacking her thighs into yours, choking every inch of meat you drilled into her.
Maybe that was a carefully crafted one-liner, but it didn’t matter. If you could please a big beast like this, you were king of the Belt, you had to be.

Oh, but there was only so much you could do. Your mast is a spike of fire, and you ache to release. So you do. Fucking FUCK.
You grip her wide hips and mouth her soft scaled back, licking the supple flesh as your loins burst in a flood of seed. You can feel your balls tremble and pour copious amounts of issue free, more than you thought was even possible. Maybe it was the drugs in the air, frustration, or her. Didn’t matter.

“Yes, yes, give it all to me, little speck!” she roared, almost breaking over the strip club noise.
Your hips throbbed and twitched, leaking everything you could possibly give, panting like you’d run a few hundred marathons. Her sweet, soft nethers clamped you close, as though the muscles wrapped around your shape perfectly, massing every drop of issue left.
You could’ve stayed like this for an eternity, enveloped by plump, delightful ass and a servicing beast. But that wasn’t the way life was.

Hobbling, you slipped out, a bridge of sex forming between your tip and her snatch. You stumbled back on the couch, loins a mess, staring into the ceiling of colors and shapes.

“Nnn, so good, little speck. All that seed, just for me.”

She shifted, and it was here reality started to tumble back in. She wasn’t going to stick around forever, right? After all, money was money, and you figured the pretense of her ‘character’ would leave as soon as she got what she needed.

But like a demon on your shoulder, the Devil didn’t go anywhere. Instead, she sat next to on the ring couch, her soft breasts falling over you as she stroked your hair, nosing your ear, kissing it.

Her maw nibbled at you, breathing. “So,” she whispered. “What brings you to a place like this?”

You’re a bit perplexed. It sounded like. . . she wanted to talk with you. In earnest. Was this costing you extra?

Whatever, you think. Whatever to it all. The outside is cold and lonely and hard. You’re in no hurry to get back.
You attempt to wrap an arm around her sinewy, muscled waist, like she’s as familiar as a friend with benefits.

“A really bad day.”

END