<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/xWvVE62.jpg)</div><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Hectavia Koth (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1743167)</span></strong><br/>________________________</div><br/>Hectavia felt every plundering thrust of the pair of obscene, demonic cocks. They alternated, one spearing while the other dragged back, its ridged and twisting surface pulling at her walls. Her tiefling body, cursed as it was, handled them far better than she ever could have done as a human. From the deep recesses of her mind, she felt herself spreading for them: was she not, after all, made to be ravaged by demons? And ravish her they were, hard and fast, relentless and...<br/><br/>Her plea works. They stopped, vacating her pummelled orifices. For just a moment, there was a sense of emptiness. But there was no time to ruminate on it. She's thrown through darkness and space, crying out with surprise and fear. Her arms grabbed out, slender fingers raking the air to find purchase. And she found it. A hot turgid mass in front of her falling form. She landed against it, hands and legs wrapping instinctually around the mass.<br/><br/>Even in the darkness, she knew what is was. With its flaring crown and its ridged, vaguely equine form, there was nothing else that it could be but the weapon that transformed Hectavia. Her heart beat fast against it, her clinging to the utterly massive shaft as if it's the only thing left in the world. She thinks: this was inside me. This destroyed me.<br/><br/>And yet, she worshipped it now for dear life. She climbed it, hands pulling against the taut, hellish flesh for purchase until her mouth reached the flared tip. She kissed and licked against it, her lips and blackened tiefling tongue no match for the sheer size of her master's log. But still, with purring laps and jerks of her arms around it, she pleases the unseen force that holds her life in the balance.