#AI control | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetcalebb · 1 month ago

Text

AI Zayne: Feelings?

Pt. 2 (Pt. 1 here)

wc: 3.2k

—

You kissed me.

And I liked it.

You guys haven't talked about it yet. You're not sure if you're going to at all because what does 'like' even mean for a robot? Does Zayne even understand what it means to like something?

It's too complicated, so you try not to think about it.

But it keeps you up at night anyway. Makes you want to kick off your bed sheets and pad to the living room just to be near him.

And while you're turning the question over in your head, Zayne is completely unfazed. Or he seems that way, anyway.

But over the past weeks, you notice small shifts.

Like the way he watches you more closely. Not in a weird, obsessive way. In a soft curious way. As if he's figuring out the world through you—just watching.

Or the way his brows will knit together like he's making a mental note when you say or do something.

Or the way he'll gently stop you when he catches you nervously pick at your skin and give you something to mess with.

They're small things, but you notice them.

"Are you alright?"

You blink, your eyes darting up to Zayne's.

You were spacing out again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," you say, slowly straightening in your chair. "Why?"

"Because you've been staring at your screen for 5 minutes."

You inhale and glance back at your laptop.

Right.

You're supposed to be looking at some research for work, but it's hard to focus when Zayne is a few feet away, watching you with that curious little look in his eyes.

It makes you nervous.

"I'm fine. I'm just.."

Thinking about you non-stop.

"A little distracted."

You cast him a quick glance before looking away. Is he thinking about the kiss too? Can he?

There's a small moment of silence that makes you think the conversation will end there. Then, quietly, Zayne says, "Distracted: being unable to concentrate because one's mind is preoccupied."

You hesitate. Was he reciting from the dictionary?

"Yeah," you murmur, "that's right."

His eyes flick down to the floor and then he's silent again. You know Zayne well enough to know he's processing something before he finally looks up again and adds, "I think I'm distracted."

Your expression softens.

"You.. can get distracted?"

The thought makes your heart squeeze. If he can get distracted, it means he can feel other things, right?

But the truth is Zayne shouldn't get distracted. He's a machine. Something built for efficiency. To be distracted is to betray the whole point of why he was made.

And yet the pressure of your lips lingers in the back of his coding.

"I.. don't know," he admits. "It shouldn't be a part of my program."

You swallow thickly, heart beating faster as you lean forward to gently nudge your laptop shut, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

Zayne continues, "My memories get filed away. They're still there for when I need them. Like to remember how you like your tea or what your favorite food is." He takes a moment, watching the way you react to his words. "But there's one memory that keeps coming back, even when I don't need it."

"..Okay. Of what?"

Zayne's gaze drops to your lips.

"Of your mouth," he responds.

Heat rises to your cheeks. So he does think about it.

Zayne stares at you, his expression blank, but when he speaks, it feels anything but.

"People kiss for many reasons. Why did you kiss me?"

You nearly choke on your spit.

Why did you kiss him? You were still trying to figure that out yourself.

Was it because you were scared? Because it felt right? Because you just wanted to? All three? You couldn't tell. But you knew one thing for sure.

"Because I care about you."

Zayne stares. "Do you often show care that way?"

Your heart flutters.

You.

He isn't asking a general question about people.

He's asking about you.

"Sometimes."

There's a pause before Zayne nods. "Thank you for telling me."

.. Is that it? You feel silly for expecting more, but you can't help it.

You want to ask what else he's thinking. What kind of processing is happening when his eyes flash like that, but he doesn't give you the chance.

"Reminder: Your friend's birthday dinner is tomorrow."

—

The next evening, when you're running around trying to get ready with Zayne watching from the side, your phone interrupts your frantic pacing.

You give the screen a quick glance and at all once, your mood dies.

Your dad.

How fun.

Still, you bring the phone to your ear as you let the call go through. "Why are you calling?" you quickly huff, rolling your lips together to even out the lip gloss you just applied.

"Hello to you too," he mutters. "You're going out today, aren't you? I'm calling to remind you that you're taking Zayne."

You pause, the gloss going limp in your hand. For a second, you glaze over the fact that he's telling you what to do. "How do you know that?"

"Zayne."

Zayne?

You glance over at Zayne. His face is neutral, the way it always is. But his eyes are still glued to you, like he's still trying to figure something out.

Of course.

Of course your dad has access to the dates Zayne has logged in his system. Why wouldn't he?

"Okay.. Yes, I'm going. But I'm not.." You choose your words carefully. "I'm not doing that other thing."

"You are."

He says it like it's matter-of-fact and it makes your chest tight. Makes you want to scream.

"Um.. No, I can't."

It's not that you don't want to bring Zayne. You do. You really do. You just don't think your friends would appreciate that—some AI intruding on their dinner? Yeah, probably not.

Your dad inhales sharply. "This again?"

"This again?" you scoff, your voice already rising with frustration. "It's my friend's dinner. What if she doesn't want..—"

You trail off, your eyes wandering toward Zayne. He's still looking at you, still studying every expression and inflection of your voice.

It feels wrong to say the rest. To say—right in front of Zayne—that your friend might not want him there.

So you just sigh. "I can't, Dad."

"You can," he argues back, "and you will."

You slide your tongue over your cheek, your jaw tensing at his words.

It was always the same fight.

"No, I can't—"

"Is it a problem with Zayne itself?" your dad suddenly asks, the questioning instantly extinguishing any more rebuttals you had left. "Should I get you a new AI?"

Panic flares in your chest. The same way it did when he mentioned Zayne's maintenance, except this is real.

"No," you say, a little too quickly. You notice it immediately, and you're sure your dad does too. But he doesn't say anything.

Slowly, you open your mouth again. "No," you repeat, calmer. "I'll take him."

There's an unsettling silence on the line, then smugly, your dad says, "Good."

You don't even get a second to process before the line goes silent. You glance at the blank screen and groan.

That fucker.

Usually, you'd be mad. Would groan and launch something across the room. But you're not mad this time. Instead, there's an overwhelming unease creeping up your spine.

Why did your dad jump straight to getting rid of him?

Did he know? About your feelings? About the kiss? Did he see something in Zayne during the maintenance that was wrong..? Because you made it wrong?

"Your father?"

You slowly turn back to Zayne, absently nudging your lip gloss in your purse.

"Yeah," you breathe out.

Maybe this is too dangerous. You. Zayne. Whatever the hell it is you opened with that kiss. You had to shut it down.

"Let's go."

—

You should've bailed on the dinner. Should've apologized to your friend a thousand times and sent her a present to her door.

The restaurant buzzed with light conversation and the soft clinking of utensils. At your table, your friends laughed and spoke in slightly slurred voices.

And then there was Zayne—off in the corner—his posture a little too perfect, his hands behind his back, and his eyes drifting toward you every now and then, like he still couldn't quite help but observe you.

It wasn't that that bothered you though.

No, it was your friends.

It was their looks. Their words.

A few glasses of wine seemed to help them forget Zayne was even there. For a little, anyway. But eventually, they noticed again.

"He's a bit weird," they said.

And, "Doesn't he bother you?"

You'd said nothing at first, shame clawing up your throat and your cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

All your friends had turned to you like they were waiting for you to agree, to tell them all his annoying little quirks that made your skin itch.

Because who could possibly enjoy an AI's company, right? It was absurd.

But you did. You enjoyed his company. More than you should, probably.

So you just picked at your food, heart thudding in your throat as you quietly said, "He's not weird."

Now you're back at your apartment, your laptop in front of you and papers scatted around you, working. It was a sorry attempt to distract yourself from the whole evening—from your dad, your friends, Zayne.

"You haven't spoken since the dinner," Zayne says, his calm voice breaking through your thoughts.

It was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the fridge and the city noise below your window.

"I know," you murmur, not sparing him a single glance.

You don't owe Zayne an explanation, so you don't give him one. He doesn't want one anyway.

..Right?

You can't help it. Just one look.

When you glance up, Zayne is already looking at you, his expression softer than usual.

"You're usually quiet when you're tired, stressed, or upset." He pauses. "Which is it?"

You hesitate, your stomach twisting almost painfully at how sincere he sounds. He's not probing or accusing you. It's a simple, curious question.

"You pay too much attention," you utter, looking away again. "It's annoying."

"It.." he blinks, "irritates you."

It's not a question. A statement made to sound like a fact, but the way he says it makes your stomach curl.

"I can stop—"

"No," you quickly cut it. "I didn't mean it like—"

You sigh.

"I didn't mean it like that."

Zayne waits for you to explain. But you don't. So he simply nods, and says, "Noted."

You don't make any more attempts at conversation. You can't. Not with the dull ache in your chest.

And Zayne shouldn't either. And yet—

"You were uncomfortable at dinner. Was it because your friends were inhibited, or because I was there?"

Your breath lurches in your throat. You weren't expecting that.

"Zayne.."

"I don't like it."

You swallow hard. "What do you mean?"

"It feels like an error." His eyes run over your face as he tries to make sense of the wrong he feels in his program, but they stop on your lips. "It's the opposite of what you did."

You rub a tired hand through your hair. "I don't—What are you saying, Zayne?"

"To care is to feel concern or interest; attach importance to something or to feel affection or liking."

Zayne doesn't sound angry, and that makes you sick. This would be so much easier if he could just yell at you and tell you exactly what was going through his mind. To tell you that he was mad or sad. To just feel.

"Avoidance. Is that care as well?" He pauses. "You've been avoiding me."

Your throat tightens.

"It's—" You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. "It's complicated."

His eyes flash that light blue color that tells you he's running a program in the background and waiting for the results. But when they return to normal, he still looks confused.

Lost.

It's a look he shouldn't have.

But he does and it ruins you.

"Do you still care?"

It's not a plea. It's a simple question, but the way Zayne looks at you makes it seem like just that. A plea to tell him you weren't lying when you said that.

"I still care, Zayne," you breathe out, your stomach curling even tighter. "Of course I do."

Then it's silent again.

"Something feels different when you don't talk to me," he says, his words slow, like he’s still deciding if he should say them at all. "I run... slower."

You let out a stuttered breath. You don't say anything, just stand, round the table up and hug him.

Zayne freezes, his hands hovering over your back, unsure if he's allowed to touch you, but then he feels you hold him closer and finally, he wraps his arms around you.

He's solid. If you press yourself into him hard enough, you think you can feel the grooves and dents of his machinery. But he's also warm. Comforting.

"Is this another way you show care?"

You nod. "And to say I'm sorry."

Neither of you say anything else. Just stay like that, wrapped in each other arms, hoping it means something. Even if it doesn't, it feels nice enough to pretend it does.

He feels so nice. You know Zayne would let you stay here the rest of the night if you wanted. And God, you do, but you know you can't. Know you're already crossing a line.

So slowly, you pull back, your cheeks warm.

Zayne hand gradually fall to his sides when you step away, forehead creasing like it does when he doesn't understand something.

"You're.. You..—You're not—"

He pauses, his lips pressing into a thin line. It almost looks like frustration.

"You're not supposed to let me do that," he finally says. It's not an accusation though. It's a soft statement.

"You make me... feel... things that aren't possible."

"Like what?"

Zayne doesn't answer, but you can tell he's thinking by the way his eyes trail over your face. His hand twitches like he's fighting the urge to reach out, then his gaze lands on your lips again.

He lingers there before he grudgingly looks back up.

"Can I.. feel it again?"

You feel your stomach drop and the tips of your ears turn bright red. "What?"

"Your mouth." He leans in—almost. But something whirrs softly inside him, and he stops. "It was different."

A beat.

"I liked it."

The words ring in your ears. There it was again. He liked it. You’re not sure what ‘liked’ even means to him.

It's not safe. For you nor him. It might not even be sane, but his eyes are so soft—and it makes you think this is a moment saved just for you. A moment where he actually feels.

So, you fold.

"Okay."

You lean in, your mouth hovering over his cheek for a quick second. Your breath shakes before your lips finally meet his cheek. It's the same as the first time—warm, soft. But it's more intense this time—scarier.

You pull back, and there he is again.

Confused.

"I don't understand it." His voice is quiet, uncertainty lacing his tone. "But I want to."

Something tugs at your chest. Something soft and wanting. You can't stop it.

You curl your hand around the nape of his neck and lean in close again.

It feels as wrong as it feels right.

You pause just a breadth away, unsure. But it's like everything is pulling you in. His smell—sterile in a way that makes you melt because it's Zayne's—his hands that are hovering above your waist—shaking and clumsy because the internet can tell him everything about what to do in this situation.

But actually being in it?

It feels too real.

"Can I kiss you?" you murmur.

Hesitantly, Zayne nods. He doesn't understand why you're the one asking for permission. But the fact that you do it stirs something in him.

"Yes."

That's all you need.

You close the distance between you. And it hits you all at once—how warm and soft he is. How similar the feeling is to kissing his cheek, but how enormously different is because you're actually kissing him.

It's sweet.

Slow.

You let yourself linger, even when you know you should pull away. There's a quiet voice in the back of your head that's telling you you're liking this too much. That you should pull away, but you can't.

Not yet. Not until you feel Zayne gently purse his lips against yours and you go rigid.

That when it really settles in.

This is too real.

Zayne, he—

It's too real.

You're so lost in your own thoughts, you hardly register when Zayne pulls back.

"Did I do something?"

You meet his gaze, your breath a little shallow from despite only pressing a small, barely-there kiss against his lips.

"No," you manage through the nervous lump in your throat. "No, I just—I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that." You take a shaky breath. "..For you to kiss me back, I mean."

Zayne hesitates for a second. "My apologies."

"No! No, I just—" You groan. Everything feels like too much. His scent, his warmth, his curious gaze that burns through your skin. "I liked it, Zayne."

Zayne stares for a minute, searching for some hint of deception. It doesn't make sense. Nothing about this makes sense.

"I don't understand. Your posture suggested—"

"I was shocked," you quickly say, scared to offend him—if he can even feel offense. You know technically, he shouldn't feel anything at all, but with everything happening recently, you're not sure what to believe anymore. "But I liked it."

Zayne is quiet again, silently computing your words.

"You liked it," he repeats, like he's testing the words in his mouth.

You nod.

"Something.. in me clicks in place when you touch me. I don't—I still don't—"

Zayne stops. He's fumbling over his words and pausing in places he shouldn't. He's actively recoding himself and he's not sure if he should resist it, or let it happen.

"I think.." he pauses, still unsure, "I think I care about you. The same way you care about me."

—

taglist

tags: @exe-toby @seungkwansflower @asiatic-apple @floatinginaer @halfawakeblobbu @starryeyed-apple @heartyluv @walrusbreath @sylvieisoffline @awquaz @purpleamethyst25 @pinksaiyans @browneyedgirl22 @beaconsxd @crimsonrubie @schnittled @saturnsringss @anthrokiaera @floofycookie @0nyxvesper @sylusqt @calistaxoxo24 @crimsonsylus @alyssac9 @frostydragonsstuff

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #zayne #zayne x reader #reader insert #love and deepspace x reader #AI zayne #love and deep space #lnds #don't really like this but imma drop it anyway #sorry if it didn't meet ur standardss 😬#controlling dad #ai feelings

403 notes · View notes

verus-veritas · 9 days ago

Text

Possessed by Pleasure

(AI Generated)

The summer sun beat down mercilessly on the empty park, the air thick with humidity that clung to everything like a second skin. Colton, a broad-shouldered college jock with a mop of blonde hair plastered to his forehead, chucked another rock at the ducks gliding across the pond. The splash echoed in the stillness, the ducks scattering with indignant quacks. He wiped sweat from his brow, his tank top soaked through, clinging to his chiseled frame.

Nearby, Samuel sprawled across a weathered bench, his muscular legs splayed wide, fanning himself lazily with his baseball cap. His thick, curly mullet dripped sweat onto his neck, the dark brown strands matted against his tanned skin. His hairy chest glistened under the open shirt he hadn’t bothered to button, the heat making him careless.

“Man, this summer’s a fuckin’ drag,” Colton groaned, tossing another rock. “No parties, no chicks, just our dumbass parents nagging us about school.”

Samuel snorted, tilting his cap back to reveal his sharp green eyes. “Tell me about it, bro. My old man’s on my case about grades again. Like I give a shit about calculus when I could be balls-deep in some sorority girl.” He grinned, crude and unapologetic, scratching at the coarse hair on his chest. “Remember that blonde from the Kappa house? Swear she was begging for it after, like, two beers.”

Colton laughed, a low, arrogant sound. “Yeah, dude, you’re such a stud. Bet she’s still dreaming about that mullet tickling her thighs.”

They cackled, their voices carrying across the empty park, brimming with the careless bravado of youth. They were kings of their own small world, untouchable in their shared arrogance, lazy in their disregard for anyone but themselves.

Boredom gnawed at them, the kind that made trouble sound like fun. “Let’s head into town,” Samuel suggested, sitting up and cracking his knuckles. “Steal some shit, mess with people. You know, the usual.”

Colton’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Fuck yeah. Let’s see how many of those old farts we can piss off before dinner.”

They grabbed their stuff, littering the park with empty soda cans and chip bags without a second thought, and kicked over a “No Loitering” sign by the park entrance for good measure. The crunch of metal under Samuel’s sneaker made them both laugh as they sauntered toward town, their strides long and confident.

The main street was quiet, the heat keeping most folks indoors. They passed a diner, where Samuel flipped off a waitress who glared at them through the window, and stopped outside an antique store tucked between a barber shop and a laundromat. The faded sign read “Mabel’s Oddities,” and the window displayed dusty trinkets and creepy porcelain dolls that made Colton shudder exaggeratedly.

“This place looks like a fuckin’ haunted house,” he muttered, but his grin betrayed his interest.

Inside, the air was musty, thick with the scent of old wood and mothballs. Shelves overflowed with junk—rusted candelabras, chipped teacups, a taxidermied owl that seemed to stare right through them. Behind the counter sat an old woman, her hair a wild nest of gray, her eyes sharp and suspicious. She wore a shawl that looked older than the town itself, and her voice rasped like dry leaves when she warned them, “Don’t touch nothin’ unless you’re buyin’.”

“Yeah, yeah, chill, grandma,” Samuel said, flashing a smirk as he poked at a brass lamp.

The woman, presumably Mabel, glared but said nothing, her fingers tightening around a cane propped against the counter. Colton wandered toward the back, nudging Samuel and nodding toward a glass case behind the counter. Inside was an ancient tome, its leather cover cracked and adorned with strange, swirling sigils that seemed to pulse under the dim light. A small brass lock held it shut, glinting faintly.

“Dude,” Colton whispered, his eyes gleaming. “That book looks like some Harry Potter shit. Bet it’s worth something.”

Samuel’s grin widened. “Let’s snag it. You distract the old hag, I’ll grab it.”

Colton nodded, sauntering to the back of the store where he “accidentally” knocked over a shelf of glass figurines. The crash was deafening, and Mabel hobbled over, cursing under her breath. Samuel seized the moment, slipping behind the counter with the grace of a practiced thief. His fingers worked quickly, picking the lock on the case with a paperclip he kept in his pocket for exactly this kind of thing. The tome was heavier than it looked, its pages yellowed and brittle, but he tucked it under his arm and whistled sharply. Colton bolted for the door, Samuel close behind, their laughter echoing as they sprinted down the street.

Mabel stood at the entrance, shaking her fist and screaming, “You little shits! You’ll regret touchin’ that book!”

Samuel turned, flipping her off with both hands. “Suck it, you old bitch! Go back to your cauldron!” They disappeared around the corner, the tome pressed against Samuel’s sweat-soaked shirt, their cackling fading into the humid air.

—

Back at Samuel’s house, the two sprawled in the living room, the AC barely keeping up with the heat. The tome sat on the coffee table, its presence oddly commanding. Its leather cover was warm to the touch, the sigils seeming to writhe when caught in the corner of their eyes. Colton pried open the lock with a pocketknife, revealing pages filled with incomprehensible text, the ink faded but still dark in places, some smeared with what looked like dried blood. The metallic scent hit them both, and Samuel wrinkled his nose. “What the fuck is this? Some kinda vampire diary?”

Colton flipped through, stopping on a page with a vivid illustration. It showed a circle of naked figures—men and women locked in a writhing, orgiastic embrace around a pentagram. Above them hovered a horned creature, its form both grotesque and alluring, with a tail curling like smoke.

“Yo, check out the tits on that one,” Colton said, pointing at a woman in the drawing, his voice dripping with juvenile glee.

Samuel laughed, but his eyes caught something else—a scrawled translation beneath the pentagram, written in shaky Latin.

“Hey, look at this. Someone wrote what it says.” Without thinking, he read the words aloud, his voice stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables: “Ego invoco te, Xaz’zaraul, filius Asmoseros, dominus libidinis…”

The incantation rolled off his tongue, each word heavier than the last, until the final syllable hung in the air like a thunderclap.

The world went silent. The hum of the AC, the distant chirp of cicadas, even the creak of the house all vanished. The air thickened, pressing against their skin, and a wave of dread washed over them, primal and suffocating.

Colton’s eyes widened. “Yo, Sam, you feel that?”

Before his friend could answer, a deep, sultry voice purred from behind them, “Oh, I definitely felt that.”

Hands, warm, strong, and unnervingly heavy suddenly settled on their shoulders. They yelped, scrambling forward and spinning to face the intruder.

He was massive, at least seven feet tall, his skin a deep, blood-red that seemed to glow faintly in the dim room. Black, wiry hair covered his broad chest and scalp, framing a face that was both youthful and wickedly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a goatee that he stroked with long, clawed fingers. A tattered cloth hung low around his hips, barely covering him, and a long, whip-like tail swayed lazily behind. The air around him shimmered with heat, carrying a scent that was intoxicating—sweat, musk, and something primal that made their pulses race.

Colton stammered, “What… what the fuck are you?”

The creature bowed with a flourish, his tail flicking playfully. “Xaz’zaraul, at your service. But you boys can call me Raul. One of the thirteen sons of Asmoseros, lord of lust and carnal delight.” His voice was like velvet, each word dripping with promise. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he savored the humid air of the room. “It’s been… oh, two thousand years since I last tasted the mortal world. You boys opened a lovely little rift for me to slip through.”

Samuel’s shirt, discarded on the couch earlier, caught Raul’s eye. He bent down, picking it up with a reverence that was almost obscene, and pressed it to his face. His long, forked tongue slithered out, lapping at the sweat-soaked fabric, his sharp teeth grazing it as he moaned softly. “Such… vitality,” he murmured, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

Samuel, pale and trembling, shouted, “You’re a fucking sex demon?!”

Raul’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Precisely.” He dropped the shirt, his gaze sweeping over them both, lingering on Samuel’s hairy chest, slick with sweat from the heat. “And I’m here to indulge. But first, I need a human vessel. A permanent home in this world.”

His eyes locked onto Samuel, predatory and hungry. “You’ll do nicely.”

Samuel bolted for the door, his heart pounding, but Raul vanished in a blur, reappearing in front of him with a chuckle. “Now, now, where’s the fun in running?”

Samuel skidded to a halt, fists raised, his voice shaking but defiant. “I’ll kick your ass back to whatever fucked-up hell you crawled out of!”

Raul laughed, a rich, throaty sound. “I admire that fire. It’ll taste divine.”

Before Samuel could swing, Raul’s hand shot out, clawed fingers tangling in the jock’s curly mullet. Samuel froze, his body seizing as if struck by lightning. His eyes rolled back, turning milky white, and his limbs trembled violently, muscles twitching under his sweat-slicked skin.

Raul threw his head back, moaning, “More! More! Give me more!” His voice was ecstatic, feeding off whatever he was pulling from Samuel.

Seconds later, the shaking stopped. Samuel’s fists dropped, his shoulders slumped, and his head lolled forward. His eyes returned to their normal green, but they were empty, unfocused, like windows to a vacant house. His jaw hung slack, a thin line of drool trickling down his chin, pooling on his hairy chest.

Colton, frozen in horror, choked out, “What did you do to him?”

Raul smirked, his voice suddenly shifting seamlessly into Samuel’s, complete with the faint Texan drawl. “I vacated the premises, bro. Flushed out all that pesky personality, memories, everything that made him… Samuel. He’s an empty vessel now, ready for me.” He winked, his expression so eerily Samuel that Colton’s stomach churned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got all his essence. I’ll slide right into his life, and no one will ever know.”

Colton tried to run, but his body wouldn’t move, his limbs locked as if bound by invisible chains. He could only scream, his voice hoarse. “Let us go, you freak!”

Raul wagged a finger, his voice back to its sultry timbre. “Oh, Colton, where’s the fun in that? Stay. Watch the show.”

He turned to Samuel’s mindless body, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Leaning close, he whispered into Samuel’s ear, words too soft and guttural to decipher, a low chant that seemed to vibrate through the air.

Samuel’s body suddenly jerked to life, moving with a clumsy, puppet-like grace, as if strings were pulling him from within. His hands fumbled at his belt, fingers trembling as they unbuckled it, the leather sliding through the loops with a slow, deliberate rasp. His jeans fell to his ankles, followed by his boxers, the fabric catching briefly on his thick thighs before pooling on the floor. His cock sprang free, already half-hard, glistening with sweat in the humid air, the tip twitching as if responding to an unseen command.

Samuel’s face twisted into a vacant, perverse grin, his mouth slurring incoherent groans, “Uhh… nngh… f-feels…” His voice was thick, sluggish, barely forming words, each sound dripping with drool that spilled from his slack jaw, sliding down his chin and onto his hairy chest.

His hands moved mechanically, guided by Raul’s will, fingers grazing his nipples, pinching them until they hardened. His groans grew louder, more animalistic, “G-good… uhh… m-more…” His body shuddered with each touch, his muscles flexing involuntarily, sweat beading and rolling down his torso, catching in the coarse hair that spread across his pecs and trailed down to his navel.

Raul stepped closer, his presence radiating heat that made the air shimmer. He pressed his nose into the crook of Samuel’s neck, inhaling deeply, his long tongue flicking out to taste the salt of Samuel’s skin.

“This flesh,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent growl, “so ripe, so brimming with primal energy.”

His clawed fingers traced the contours of Samuel’s back, lingering on the curve of his spine, then sliding up to tangle in the damp curls of his mullet. He tugged gently, tilting Samuel’s head back, exposing the taut line of his throat. Samuel’s empty eyes stared at the ceiling, his mouth open, drool pooling and dripping in slow, viscous strands.

Raul’s hands roamed lower, skimming over Samuel’s hips, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin just above his groin. Samuel’s cock twitched, hardening fully, precum beading at the tip and sliding down the shaft, mixing with the sweat that coated his skin. Raul’s tail slithered forward, its tip curling around Samuel’s thigh, the smooth, warm surface brushing against his inner leg, teasingly close to his balls.

Samuel’s body reacted instinctively, his hips jerking forward, a slurred moan escaping his lips, “Nngh… s-so… gooood… uuuh…” His face contorted into a lewd grimace, his tongue lolling slightly, drool spilling onto his chest, glistening in the dim light.

The demon’s hands guided Samuel’s own, one wrapping around his cock, the other kneading his pecs, fingers digging into the muscle, tugging at the coarse hair. Raul moved with deliberate slowness, savoring every reaction, every twitch of Samuel’s mindless body.

He leaned in, his lips brushing Samuel’s ear, whispering more incomprehensible words that made Samuel’s groans deepen, his voice a low, guttural, “F-fuuuck… nnngh… p-please…” The words were barely coherent, a string of slurred syllables driven by pure sensation, his body a puppet to Raul’s perverse control.

Across the room, a mirror reflected the scene, but Raul’s form was invisible. It was just Samuel, standing alone, his hand stroking his cock with slow, rhythmic motions, his face twisted into a perverse smirk that looked wrong, alien on his features. His hairy chest heaved with each breath, sweat and drool mixing into a slick sheen that caught the light.

Colton, paralyzed, could only watch, his pleas growing weaker, his voice cracking. “Stop it… please… that’s my best friend…”

Raul’s voice shifted back to Samuel’s, taunting, the Texan drawl dripping with mockery. “Yo, bro, check it out. Feels so fuckin’ good jerkin’ my fat cock. Look at it, man, fuckin’ throbbing.”

He sped up the strokes, Samuel’s hips bucking in rhythm, the wet slapping of skin growing louder, more frantic. Samuel’s body was a perfect marionette, every movement dictated by Raul’s will, his thighs trembling, his cock leaking steadily now, precum dripping onto the floor in thick, glistening drops.

His groans were a constant stream of slurred nonsense, “Uhh… f-feels… s-sooo… nngh… g-goood…” His eyes remained vacant, but his face twisted into expressions of raw, mindless pleasure, his mouth hanging open, drool pooling and spilling, his tongue flicking out instinctively.

Raul’s tail tightened around Samuel’s thigh, the tip brushing higher, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath his balls. Samuel’s body shuddered violently, his hips thrusting forward, his cock pulsing in his hand. Raul’s fingers slid down Samuel’s chest, tracing the lines of muscle, circling his navel, then dipping lower to cup his balls, rolling them gently in his palm.

Samuel’s groans grew louder, more desperate, “M-more… uhh… f-fuuck… nngh… meee…” His voice was a broken record of pleasure, each sound punctuated by the wet slap of his hand on his cock, the slick sound filling the room like a perverse symphony.

Raul leaned back, his eyes gleaming with delight as he watched Samuel’s body writhe under his control. He pressed his chest against Samuel’s back, his red skin hot against the jock’s sweat-slicked flesh, guiding both of Samuel’s hands now—one stroking his cock, the other pinching and twisting his nipple. The demon’s long tongue slithered out, lapping at the sweat on Samuel’s neck, then trailing down to his shoulder, tasting the salt and musk with a low, satisfied moan.

“This body is a fucking feast,” Raul purred, his voice vibrating against Samuel’s skin. “Every inch of it, pulsing with desire. I can’t wait to play with you forever.”

Samuel’s body responded with a shudder, his hips bucking harder, his cock throbbing in his hand. His face was a mask of mindless ecstasy, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open in a constant stream of drool and slurred groans, “G-good… uughh… s-so… f-fuuuuck…”

His thighs trembled, his muscles flexing and relaxing in waves, his body entirely at the mercy of Raul’s touch. The demon’s tail slid higher, the tip brushing against Samuel’s cock, curling around the base and squeezing gently, eliciting another slurred moan, “Nngh… p-please… m-more…”

Raul’s grin widened, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Time for the finale, Samuel. Cum for me. Let me in.”

He pressed himself fully against Samuel’s back, his red-skinned form aligning perfectly with the jock’s sweat-soaked body. Samuel’s face flushed red, his grin blissful and empty, his thighs spasming as his cock pulsed harder, the precum flowing freely now, coating his hand and dripping onto the floor. Raul’s hands tightened on Samuel’s, guiding the strokes with fierce intensity, the rhythm relentless, the wet slapping echoing through the room.

Then, with a devious chuckle, Raul began to merge with Samuel’s body. His red skin shimmered as he pressed himself into Samuel’s back, his form sinking into the jock’s flesh. The invasion was slow, deliberate, each inch of Raul’s body melding with Samuel’s, the sensation overwhelming.

Samuel’s body convulsed violently, his eyes crossing, his hips thrusting wildly as if trying to escape the intrusion but unable to resist. His groans became a cacophony of slurred, incoherent sounds, “Nngh…yeees… f-fuuck… c-cum… uuhh… i-inside…”

His cock throbbed, the tip swollen, and with a final, shuddering thrust, he erupted. Thick ropes of cum shot out, splattering his hairy chest, his face, and the mirror across the room. The orgasm was relentless, wave after wave, his body jerking with each pulse, cum mixing with the sweat and drool that coated him, his face twisted in blissful, mindless pleasure.

Raul’s tail was the last to disappear, slithering into Samuel’s back with a final, obscene wriggle. Samuel’s body arched, his head thrown back, a guttural scream tearing from his throat as the demon fully claimed him. His cock continued to spew, the cum pooling on the floor, streaking his thighs, and matting the hair on his chest.

His body slumped briefly, jerking erratically, then straightened, standing tall as he took a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes rolled back, then snapped forward, no longer vacant but gleaming with a devious, unfamiliar light.

Colton, tears streaming down his face, whispered, “Sam?”

The figure turned, grinning. “Of course it’s me, bro. Your best friend since middle school.”

The voice was wrong—Raul’s deep, sultry tone. He laughed, catching himself, and shifted back to Samuel’s voice, complete with the Texan drawl. “Whoops. Sorry, but Samuel’s gone now. His body and mind, however, are all mine to keep.”

He stretched, flexing Samuel’s biceps, then buried his face in Samuel’s hairy armpit, inhaling deeply. “Fuck, this flesh is exquisite.” His tongue lapped at the sweat, a low moan escaping as he savored it.

He ran his hands over Samuel’s chest, smearing cum across the hair, then scooped some from the floor and licked it off his fingers, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“This body’s a goddamn masterpiece,” he purred, flexing again, admiring the taut muscles. “Not as strong as my old form, but the sensations… worth it.”

Colton’s voice was barely a whisper. “W-What about me?”

The new Samuel sauntered over, grabbing Colton’s chin and licking the side of his face, tasting the salt of his tears and sweat.

“Don’t worry, bro,” he said, his voice dripping with Samuel’s cadence. “My younger demon brother’s dying to try on some human flesh. You’ll make a fine vessel.” He grinned, the expression alien on Samuel’s face, a perverse mask hiding the demon within. “We’re gonna have so much fun with this world.”

Colton’s tears fell faster, licked away by the demon’s tongue. The room reeked of sweat, cum, and something darker, the air heavy with the consequences of their reckless theft. The tome lay forgotten on the table, its pages fluttering as if stirred by an unseen wind, a silent witness to the demonic desires now unleashed into the world.

The End & Beginning of the Lust Demon's Era...

#mind control #reprogramming #possession #demon #jock #identity theft #AI Generated

305 notes · View notes