Torontopolis Stories - Invasion Ch. 01

Jamison was sending off 2048 with a whimper. The last year was brutal, a dark night of the soul agonizingly stretched over 366 days.

In the spring, his parents died suddenly in a crash. H was truly alone -- outside of his fiancee. Then, in the summer, his fiancee left because it was "too heavy" for her after his parent's deaths.

The loving, kind man she knew was gone -- a nasty, bitter husk railing at the unfairness of an uncaring and cruel world remained. Which is why he was fired for "attitude problems" at his dead-end pencil-pushing job in the fall.

Now he sat, stewing in the winter of his discontent, sipping whiskey from a dirty glass and watching the television across the bar. Live from New York, another goddamn ball drop.

A strong -- but gentle -- hand grabbed his shoulder. Jamison whipped his head around, about to lose his shit at the person who so rudely touched him.

Then he saw the enchanting beauty behind him. Her hair was silky and straight, with blunt bangs in a fringe. Her piercing green eyes, decked out in impeccable black winged eyeliner, were framed by her crimson cats-eye glasses. Her lipstick matched her glasses, adding further pop to her plump and inviting lips.

She wore a black turtleneck dress -- enough to cover her slim curves and petite breasts, but still short enough that you Jamison saw the hint of a tattoo snaking out from her upper thigh. Her long, creamy white legs ended in black stiletto heels, and a sudden, intrusive thought flashed in his mind. She was digging the sharp heel cruelly into his tightly-bound balls...

"Is anyone sitting next to you?" she asked, her sing-song soprano voice that instantly put him at ease.

Jamison stuttered for a second, realizing she was pointing at the chair where he had placed his coat and bag. Fumbling around, dumbstruck by the enchanting woman before him, he laughed and said "No, not at all!" a little too enthusiastically. He roughly grabbed his coat off the chair beside him and laid it on the floor.

"Thanks so much," she said with an easy smile, showing off glittering white teeth. "You're radiating sadness -- I saw it when I came in. Wanna talk?"

Jamison gave her a bug-eyed look -- was he that pathetic, that transparent? -- but her warm smile melted his defenses. "It's been a rough year," he sighed heavily.

"I'm so, so sorry to hear that," the woman said empathetically as she sidled up to the bar. Jamison watched her sit down, her dress dangerously lifting up to show even more thigh.

God, he imagined those thighs crushing his windpipe as she ground her hips on his face in the throes of orgasmic passion... That's when he got a good look at her thigh tattoo -- it was a black heart with leathery bat-wings around it. Normally he'd think it was trashy, but something about it made her even more sexy.

He looked up from her legs to see her staring at him -- or, more exactly, staring through him. Her smile grew wider somehow, almost predatory. Jamison bent his head down in shame, embarrassed that he got caught admiring her.

"It's okay to look... Wait, what is your name?" she asked.

"Jamison Clark," he said, extending his hand for a handshake.

"Jasmine" she said with a smile, grabbing Jamison's hand and shaking it with surprising strength. That's when he noticed her sharp stiletto nails, painted the same crimson red as her lipstick and glasses. He also got a whiff of her perfume, a heady aroma of jasmine -- how appropriate -- and honey that overwhelmed his senses. Each breath in released little waves of bliss as the heavenly scent crept up his nose.

They talked for an hour, Jamison blathering mindlessly about his awful year. He was entranced by her beauty, staring into those green eyes and listening to her voice.

She asked him about his family. "What family?" he said bitterly. She asked about his romantic relationships, and he told her the sob story about his broken engagement.

As they talked, Jamison felt his lust building deep inside. He was completely intoxicated by Jasmine, and the longer the two sat and chatted at the bar the longer he imagined her doing cruel and unusual things to him -- things he never thought about before until he met her.

Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation. Jasmine smiled lasciviously. "Hey, want to go back to my place?" Jasmine said, softly biting her lower lip.

"Of course," he slurred.

"Just so you know," Jasmine said conspiratorially, leaning in "I'm not like most girls." She glanced around to ensure that no one could see, then flipped her dress up to reveal her delicate lace panties and the massive bulge contained therein. With a wink, she re-adjusted her dress back to her (relatively) modest state.

Jamsion's mouth watered. Something about this gorgeous woman and her fat cock only made him hornier. Jasmine roughly grabbed him by the hand and led him to the door. "What about paying?" he asked weakly, his brain swimming in booze and lust.

Jasmine looked back at him and smiled. "Don't worry about that. I took care of it, just like I'm going to take care of you." she said brightly. Relief washed over him -- Jasmine had taken care of everything. He was going to be taken care of.

The cab ride was a blur through the glittering streets of Torontopolis - mostly because Jasmine was gently stroking his cock through his pants with one of her sharp, crimson fingernails. Jamison was pushed to the edge and back -- just the slightest touch was enough to bring him to sexual heights he didn't realize were possible.

The taxi driver stared at the two in the rearview mirror - not in judgment, but with a dopey smile on his face. Jasmine stared right back at the driver, amicably chatting with him while rubbing Jamison's cock.

It wasn't long before the cab pulled into Jasmine's condo building -- one of the city's most glamourous, a towering glass plaza overlooking the waterfront. In some corner of Jamison's mind, in-between the crushing desire and the haze of alcohol, he found it strange that she didn't pay the driver.

Before that thought got too loud, Jasmine smiled. "Oh, after the show I gave the driver, he didn't want any payment," she explained cheerily. Jamison grunted in understanding -- not that it made any sense, really. He just accepted it mindlessly.

Jasmine grabbed his wrist and physically led him through the empty lobby. With every step they took, Jamison felt more and more comfortable following Jasmine's lead. Her grip was so firm and strong; she knew where she was going .

As they neared the valet desk, a young woman stood up. "Good evening, Miss Jasmine" she said with her head bowed down.

"Good evening, Mo." she said coldly.

Mo's outfit was risqué for a valet - a knee-length, leather wet-look pencil skirt that showed off her prodigious ass and hips, combined with a crop top that bulged over her mammoth breasts. Her taut stomach, revealed by the gulf of skin between skirt and crop top, had a hint of two tattooed bat-wings curling up from her crotch.

Jamison could only think about how fucking hot she looked. Part of him wanted to look that hot.

"This way, Miss Jasmine," Mo said submissively, as she led the two to a bank of elevators marked private.

"Thank you, Mo, for the escort. It wasn't necessary," added Jasmine, a hint of malice creeping into her voice.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Jasmine," she whimpered quietly. The elevator doors opened, Jasmine leading a dazed Jamison into it.

"Come by the apartment in the morning after shift-change," Jasmine said coldly. Mo stared dead-eyed in fear as the elevator doors closed; Jamison saw that expression of terror and for the first time felt unsafe around Jasmine.

Before Jamison could think about saying anything, Jasmine grabbed his hair, pulled his head back and licked and bit his neck. Jamison yielded instantly. She moved up and kissed him fiercely, biting his lower lip. It felt tremendous, with fireworks of pleasure blowing away any thoughts of resistance.

Jasmine removed her tongue from his mouth, Jamison offering a little moan of disappointment when she did. "This is the private elevator to my penthouse suite," she said proudly. "No one will interrupt us here. So take off your clothes."

He complied unthinkingly. He immediately shook off his coat, letting it fall limply to the floor. He kicked his shoes off, and then stripped off his pants with one quick motion. The button-down he was wearing soon followed his pants on the tacky elevator carpet.

Jasmine watched, her face a contemptful smile. She appraised Jamison's naked flesh, staring intently at his pallid and unremarkable skin. "Take off your socks and underwear," she said coolly.

Jamison quickly removed his socks and underwear. His cock, not particularly impressive, shrivelled in the cold elevator.

"Pick your shit up off the floor of my elevator," she said matter-of-factly. He quickly got on his hands and knees, picking up the clothes in a rough bundle in his arms. Here he was, naked and on the rough carpet, being ordered around by a woman with a massive tool tucked in her panties -- and he was so fucking horny that he'd do anything she asked.

Before long, the elevator stopped and opened into a massive loft. What struck him were the windows. There were windows everywhere, looking out onto the bustling megalopolis's glittering skyline. He stood there, naked, staring at the massive megacity sprawling out in front of him.

The loft itself was gorgeous, as befitting one of the most expensive buildings in all of Torontopolis. The floor was rich, dark hardwood with bold modernist furniture. The kitchen was kitted out in gleaming stainless steel appliances, a bar at the end for entertaining guests.

Jasmine wordlessly grabbed two thin metal coat hangers from the closet. She handed one to him, and he quickly hung his clothes on the hanger. She smiled and grabbed the coat hanger from his trembling hands - but instead of the bright and disarming smile that so charmed him before, all he felt was malicious intent, like a predator about to swallow up their prey in one fell bite.

Yet, that smile thrilled Jamison. Visions of submission and servitude filled his mind, coming on in a rushing wave. Jasmine put her coat on her hanger and handed it over to Jamison. "Put the hangers in the closet," she said tersely as she smoothed out her wrinkled dress.

"Of course, my goddess," he said dreamily, quickly fulfilling his request. He returned and quickly got on his knees, staring submissively at the floor.

Jasmine chuckled, a deep throaty sound that at once delighted Jamison and made him feel deeply afraid. "I'm no goddess, fuckmeat," she said, her tinkling laugh pulling at his heartstrings. "No, I serve one of those. You will call me Miss Jasmine," she said, the last sentence an icy command.

"Miss Jasmine? What do you mean by..." he asked. It was so hard to even think -- his thoughts were molasses, crushed in between mental images of wrapping his lips around Jasmine's bulge, sticking his tongue deep in her asshole...

"Jamison, you're such a silly bimbo. Haven't you figured it out yet?" she said, the light glinting off her razor-sharp canine teeth.

Jamison stared at her, mouth agape. "Are you... a witch?"

Jasmine doubled over in laughter, crying in hysterics over his comments. Jamison, on his knees, just raised his head slowly and stared at her stupidly. "No, fuck meat," she said in between her laughing fit. "I'm a devil."

She quickly removed the turtleneck dress, showing off those luscious panties tenting with her cock. "Specifically, a lust devil. So if you're wondering why you keep having all those horny intrusive thoughts... Well, that's a fun little thing I can do to weak-minded humans like you."

Jamison stared in awe, completely ignoring what Jasmine was saying. He was too busy devouring her naked flesh with his eyes.

Jasmine looked good in the dress, but out of it her body was amazing. Her skin was blemish-free, pale and milky. She wore a half-bra, her modest tits proudly on display. Outside of a small triangle of opaque fabric that just covered her nipples, the rest of her bra was a sheer mesh -- offering a scintillating tease of those perfect, perky, petite tits.

"I knew I found a fun fuckpuppet when your mouth watered at this cock of mine," she said excitedly, the light glinting off those sharp canine teeth. "God DAMN I can't wait to mark you, you stupid slut."

Jamison stared blankly. He didn't understand anything Miss Jasmine was saying, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was wrapping his lips around that cock of hers, feeling it deep in his throat, her balls slapping against his chin until that thick rod of meat spewed hot cum into his belly.

Jasmine smiled again and teasingly removed her panties, pulling them down slowly over her hips. Every succulent inch of her cock soon flopped out, a surprisingly thick nine-inch monster with a heavy set of dangling balls. She wasn't even hard yet and already she had the largest cock Jamison had ever seen in his life. But then again, the only cock he ever saw was his own.

Jamison's body moved before his mind could even fathom the next move. On his knees, he crawled over to Jasmine and started kissing her perfect feet. Jasmine purred, before shooing him away with a hard kick to the gut. "C'mon, slut, if you want to worship me, I want to be comfortable."

Quickly turning on the pad of her foot, she walked to a luxuriously padded chair. Every movement was sexual, her hips sensuously swaying in front of him. Jamison crawled behind her, knowing -- somehow -- that he should be following ten steps behind her.

Dropping hard into the chair, Jasmine spread her toned legs. "Start with the feet again. I fucking loved that," she said, slowly jerking her cock.

Jamison, in between her slim thighs, slowly started making loving pecks on her perfect, dainty feet. Every so often she'd push a couple toes into his mouth, making him savour the sweat in-between each crevice of her foot.

Jamison was in heaven. He wasn't a foot fetishst, but every inch of the woman in front of him was perfect. He wanted to pray at her altar of flesh -- and he did, slowly working his way up from her feet, to her calves, to her thighs, to the monstrous pole of meat in-between her legs.

Jamison felt trepidation in that moment. He had never really played with any cock but his own - let alone her massive 12-inch tool. Before he could say anything, Jasmine curled her fingers in the back of his hair and brought his head deep into her crotch.

He smelled a powerful, sensuous mix of that intoxicating jasmine and honey perfume mixed with the musk of her sweaty cock and balls. Jamison took a big breath in and held her scent deep in his lungs. Exhaling, all the stress and disappointment of the last year melted away -- all that was left was pure, raw, submissive lust.

Any feelings of worry or caution were soon thrown out the window, as he planted kiss after kiss down her shaft. He lovingly took Jasmine's weighty balls into his mouth. There was a slightly salty taste to them, and he ran his tongue deep into every crevice of her hairless sack, licking up every inch of that intoxicating taste.

Jasmine cooed in pleasure. "Oh fuck," she said between soft moans. "Stop teasing me and suck me off you bitch!" With that, she kicked him - hard - in the ribs like a jockey on a horse. Pain blossomed in his side and urged him forward.

Jamison stretched his mouth wide and plunged down on her massive dick. It was nearly impossible to get in but through sheer force of will -- and his mistress's impatient insistence -- he was able to stretch his mouth and throat around the massive tool.

It took twenty agonizing minutes before he felt her balls slapping his chin. When he finally managed to get the entirety of her cock inside his throat, she hissed in pleasure. "Oh my goddess, fuckmeat," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Mo wasn't able to do that on her first try!"

Jasmine slowly pulled her cock out from his throat. As every inch left Jamison's puckered lips, he felt more empty and bereft of purpose. Finally, Jasmine stopped, leaving just the bulbous head of her dick in his mouth. Jamison rolled his tongue on the underside, delicately dancing his tongue on the slit of her cock. He played his hands up and down her cock desperately, wanting to keep as much of his skin in contact with Jasmine's tool as possible.

With a laugh, she plunged her cock back down Jamison's throat. He gurgled loudly but was able to swallow every inch like before. "Yesss," she said, pleasure contorting her face into an evil grimace. "Once I cum, you're mine fuckmeat."

She fucked his throat for what felt like hours. He could barely breathe, his eyes welling up, spit flying everywhere. Her pelvis slammed into his nose, her balls wet from his spit making squelching noises as they slapped his chin and throat.

Jamison was in bliss. He had always had decent sex with his partners, but it was never amazing. Boring, vanilla, maybe a little light anal play. He had never even conceived of something so dirty, so raunchy -- and yet he had never felt as sexually fulfilled until this moment.

"I'm going to cum, bitch," she said with a smile, her canine teeth gleaming. Jamison felt a surge of pride -- not only was he able to swallow Jasmine's cock, but he was going to make her cum from his first time giving a blowjob.

Jasmine moaned, a ghastly and inhumane roar of conquest, and plunged her cock deep into Jamison's throat. Jamison felt those balls again on his chin, and felt them twitch. Even though he knew it was coming, he didn't expect the sheer force and volume of Jasmine's cum -- and she was so deep in his throat that she was depositing her cum directly into his stomach.

It wasn't a normal, human amount of cum. Jasmine came and came and came, her dick's spasms and twitches reverberating through Jamison to the very core of his being.

Jamison swallowed it all. It was precious to him, a sign of Jasmine's love (and lust) for him. As her cum filled his belly, he felt his stomach grow warm. The warmth soon grew hot, like her cum was burning a hole through his gut.

Finally, Jasmine pulled out after what felt like a gallon of cum was emptied into Jamison's stomach. "Holy shit, fuckmeat," she said, laughing from the after-effects of her geyser of an orgasm. "I bet you don't even appreciate how good it feels to cum. It's still a new feeling for me."

Jamison looked down. His belly was slightly distended -- and that's when he noticed the tattoo. It looked exactly like Jasmine's thigh tattoo, except it was on his stomach.

A black heart, covering his belly button, in between two bat wings -- and it was glowing. He looked up, scared, at Jasmine - only to see her tattoo glowing, in time, with his own.

"Since you swallowed it all like a good cum dump, you're now mine. Body and soul." Her voice rang through Jamison's mind -- even though she didn't say a word. She was communicating with him mentally. "My kind are coming to invade this world. I'm one of the first, and now you're ours."

Jasmine's voice rang through Jamison's head. It was all-knowing, all-powerful; a goddess commanding her servant.

"I've got big plans for you, Jamison. No, your name is Jamie now. I felt your anger, your rage at the unfairness of your life. You'll get your revenge. Whether you want to or not. But first I want to sculpt you."

Jasmine cackled. The thrill of marking a human -- of bending their flesh and soul to her every desire -- hadn't gotten old yet. Though she had only been doing it for a week...