tofi's trail

Sometimes, it was nice to take a break from the demon realm to visit the mortal realm, to try to keep up with what was going on over there, both in terms of what was happening in the world, and in more local terms and inventions, as well as fashion related things.

Fyzre'lath sometimes slipped through the mists to find himself a place to explore. It was a fun thing to do, to not know where you're going exactly and spending some time there before heading back home.

He's often drawn to the parks, the long forest paths that contrasted so much to the vast barelands that he once had called home. He didn't care what type of forest it was, so long as it was a forest that he could wander in silence, listen to the wind in the trees and the wildlife for a while.

It was one of those days; completely normal, and blessedly peaceful. He had barely encountered a single person on the path all morning, only passing the occasional jogger or dog walker. It was pleasant weather outside, a bit of sun peeking out and the birds singing in the trees.

Honestly, he should have expected the day to take a rough turn, because that seemed to be his lot in life, no matter the kind.

He had heard another jogger approach, and had tuned it out just as he had the previous one. It wasn't long before he regretted it, however, when suddenly, he saw something pass across his vision, and something pressed against his throat. Fyzre'lath felt the fabric tighten, twisting and the thought that someone was garrotting him passed through his mind as his hands shot up to instinctually claw at the thing restricting his airways. He tried to scream.

A hand pressed over his mouth, large and harsh, and Fyz gagged when two thick fingers pressed into his mouth. They tasted sour on his tongue.

He was shoved to the ground, and the rest of the air in Fyz’s lungs was shoved out of him. He tried to draw breath, desperately, but the person on top of him wasn't easing the pressure of the garrotte. Fyzre'lath struggled against the large body pressing him into the leaf-covered dirt, kicking as hard as he could. His head was shoved hard into the ground. A hot breath brushed over his cheek, rustling strands of his long ginger hair as the whisper shook Fyzre'lath’s body.

"You're mine until I release you. Stop struggling."

A coldness ran through Fyz’s body as he felt it stiffen up, and with horror he realized that blood must have been drawn, must have been blended. The words, though simple, locked him in place as his body registered before his mind that a contract had been made.

It was a primitive way of forming a contract, one that was supposed to be an agreement, a pact from times long past, but somehow it had been accidentally formed, and there was absolutely nothing that Fyz could do about it.

His assailant grunted, seemingly pleased that he had stopped struggling. They probably were assuming it was from fear, and not from an instinct carved deep into Fyz’s very soul.

The pressure around Fyz’s throat eased up. The garrotte still rested around it, a silent warning presence, that if he tried something, it would once more be tightened.

"That's a good little bitch," his assailant murmured, a hoarse voice in Fyz’s ear. "Just stay still like that, and you won't get hurt." The stranger had no idea how powerful his words were in that moment. He had no idea that if Fyz moved, he would get hurt, even if the stranger did nothing. Contracts, particularly the primitive ones lacking in the details the circles usually contained, had the power to rip a demon apart to its very core if they disobeyed against the threat of violence. And while Fyz was sure he wouldn't be killed by this particular phrasing, he preferred to avoid being hurt. He could heal, his body could bring him back from almost any death, but he never liked pain.

A hand brushed through his hair, and for a moment he felt it stick to his skin. It must be where the blood ended up, he understood. "You are a pretty one, bitch," the stranger said. "I like tall babes. Now, spread your legs so I can get at that cunt. If you don't, I'll do it for you, and I won't be gentle."

The threat was wholly unnecessary, because Fyz’s body was already reacting to the order in more ways than one. He had been wearing a male form up until that moment, but the assailant's words made his body morph, the cock retracting and reforming into a cunt. His chest swelled to form breasts on his chest. Fyzre’lath’s legs spread open obediently, and his assailant reached down with one hand to Fyzre'lath’s trousers. The garrotte tightened in warning as the stranger pulled Fyz’s trousers down, revealing the bare skin of his ass to the rough fabric of the human’s shirt and unpleasantly gentle touch. Fyzre'lath shivered.

He rested his forehead against the ground as the hand on his bottom explored him, kneading his ass for a few moments before fingers abruptly plunged in between his legs and into his cunt. He was dry, clenched, and pain seared through his body. The stranger didn't care, pushing their fingers in and pulling them back out repeatedly. The hot breath was in his ear again though, and Fyz wanted to sob but couldn't, when he heard, "Hurry up and get wet, you cunt," and his body obliged. The sound of the fingers pushing into his lubricating holes was wet and loud in Fyzre’lath’s ears. It didn't take long after that until his assailant lined up his cock against Fyz’s opening and pushed inside.

It was rough and violent, and Fyz wanted to cry out in protest, to at least ask the human to be gentler, but it was physically impossible for him to do so. His hands weren't bound, barely restrained, and all he could do with them was to grasp at the ground and scrape his nails through the dirt as the stranger above him sank harshly back inside. He could only hope that it would be over quickly.

The human was letting out grunts into Fyz’s hair, mingled with heavy breaths. He took his time, sliding in and out at an unevenly rough pace. Fyzre'lath’s body still wept, soaking the ground beneath them, and Fyzre'lath gritted his teeth under his pressed-together lips. His assailant was taking his time, seemingly not worried about being discovered, or about his victim deciding to fight back. Not that Fyzre'lath would --- he literally couldn't.

The garrotte tightened and loosened irregularly, as though the attacker had forgotten about it, but instinctively was clutching to it in his pleasure. It restricted Fyz’s ability to breathe, and for a long time now he hadn't been able to take a proper breath. Fyz felt light-headed and dizzy.

Fyzre'lath could see his drool pool in the dirt below him, and that was what his gaze focused on as he tried not to break his demon instinct with the instinct from before becoming one, to fight against the human on top of him. He counted each drop, even as he realised that he repeatedly counted the wrong number and lost track of where he was over and over. It was hard to focus with a lack of breath, a clouding vision, and a stranger pounding into his cunt with such a force that it felt like he might be ripped apart.

The garotte tightened even more. Fyz saw his vision get blotted out as he gasped for breath without finding any much needed air. The cock drove deep inside of him, and there was a grunt in his ear. Fyz felt himself get flooded, as the garotte was pulled even deeper into his throat. It would bruise only temporarily. He felt something break, heard a crack in the back of his ears. The pain was blinding. His assailant was in his ear, unaware or uncaring that he had just snapped something necessary in Fyzre'laths throat. "C'mon, bitch, you gotta cum too. Might save your life."

Although it was a lie that cumming would save anyone's life at that point, Fyzre'lath’s body obeyed. The orgasm ripped through his body, drawing tears from his eyes and a soundless cry from his lips. Fyz collapsed in the puddle of drool, his vision blank and his body shaking. He felt the human’s weight on top of him, and heard a shocked, "Holy shit, you actually did cum. That felt awesome." Fyz said nothing in return, couldn't say anything in return even though the garotte fell from his throat. He still couldn't get any air.

For a while, his assailant and contractor rocked back and forth inside of Fyz’s soaked cunt, grunting with slow, pleasured sounds. It could almost be called sweet, at least in comparison to the ruthless pace from before, but it was far from, as the human ignored how Fyz lay dying on the ground.

Finally, the human got up. There was the sound of rustling fabric, and a zipper closing. Then footsteps, and the sound of that foul voice.

"Stay here until I get home, then you can go try to get some help or whatever." The man chuckled, as if enjoying a joke. There was no way that anyone in the situation that Fyz was in could seek any help, or know for how long it meant that they would need to stay there.

Except Fyzre'lath did know. Even as his consciousness faded he felt the bond between him and his contractor as the human wandered off. Laying still on the ground, he could tell every time that the human made another turn. Until he died, his body unable to keep up with his injuries.

Fyzre'lath woke up under a scorching sun, his body not even aching as he pushed up to his hands and knees. His trousers still were pushed down, and his face was tight with dried saliva, while his arse was sticky with cum. With a handwave and muttered words, he cleaned himself off, and he got to his feet, pulling his clothes back into place.

He wanted to go home. In these moments, where his day went so horribly wrong, he never longed to return to the demon world as much as he ever had. But he couldn't, he was trapped until he was released. The human that attacked him might think that he didn't need to deal with Fyz any more, but he never actually said the words that would release Fyzre'lath from the contract that had been made.

So, although unwilling, Fyzre'lath made way toward the human's home. He would have liked to walk the whole way, but his core objected, forcing him to teleport the distance.

The human startled, cursed as they dropped the cup of fast-food soda that they held. "What the- what the actual fuck?!" It was a reasonable reaction to someone suddenly appearing in your home. It wasn’t new. "You're supposed to be dead, bitch!"

"A simple garotting is unable to keep me dead." The answer was a reflex, another instinct given by the contract that Fyz hated. He couldn't lie, he couldn't hold back information.

"Hah? Why the fucking hell not! Everyone dies when they die!" The human was riled up, and got up on their feet, their trousers soaked with soda and their fists balled up. They looked ready to pounce. Fyzre'lath didn't move, didn't flee, though he wished that he could.

Fyz explained, unflinching in the face of the human’s anger. "Humans do die when they die, yes. Demons do not."

The human looked baffled. "Demons? Demons!" They scoffed. "As if I believe that! Show me proof, then! Do something a human can't do!"

Fyz obliged. Fire burst forth from his palm, a simple display of power. The human looked unconvinced, and their gaze moved between Fyz’s face and his hand holding the fire. He couldn't resist when the human grasped his wrist and pushed the flame into his face. "Burn, bitch." Fyzre'ath quickly caught fire, and through the agony of the very real flames, Fyz could see the human nod, arms crossed and a thoughtful look on their face. "Right, so if you're a demon, you should be able to just stop burning, right?"

The flames ebbed out, and for a minute or two, the human stared at Fyzre'laths burnt face. Fyz knew when he started to heal, because he saw the human’s eyes grow wide with shock. "I'll be damned," they muttered. "Alright, fine, you're a fucking demon. But why're you here?"

It was the worst question to answer yet, and burned Fyzs insides worse than the fire had done his skin. But he did answer. "Because I am bound to you. You formed a contract with me, although unwittingly, and now I am your servant until you willingly release me or die. Until such a time, I am yours to command however you like."

For a few moments, the human simply stared at Fyz, dumbfounded. Then, a dangerous look started to creep up on his face. He looked at Fyz, his gaze and grin predatory. A shudder of fear ran through Fyzre'lath. "Oh, you don't say? However I like? Well. This'll be fun.”

Sometimes yet Sometimes