Imp, Part 12

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Summary: A beleagered and underpaid clerk by day, Lyla is doing the thankless work of at least three people at her job. By night she is an aspiring witch. Well, kind of. She's only ever read about spells and rituals until now, as she decides to summon and bind an imp to her service to help with her staggering workload. At first the summoning ritual seems to yield nothing...until, that is, her belly swells and she unexpectedly births her newly indentured demonic servant from the portal now rooted within her womb. Contains: demonic pregnancies, birth, eventual multiples, lactation, magical shenanigans. Idea submitted by Chel.

This story is a work of fiction. As specified throughout the story, all characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Previous Chapter

-

It was a group of two dozen or so men and women from the local magical community. Rose could hear them murmuring amongst themselves as she approached, but they went silent at seeing her. All of them staring from her dress, to her belly, and then the out-of-place beanie perched on her head.

“Rose Baker?” said Tess, a middle-aged woman with wiry brown hair. “What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“And to Oliver!” said a lanky guy with black hair. Several people stepped aside, revealing Oliver slouched against the wall of the building. The gray streak Rose had left in his hair seemed to have broadened, as though it was overtaking his mane. His eyes looked terribly weary.

“Back for seconds?” he said sarcastically.

“What’s going on?” said Rose as she was surrounded by the crowd of mages.

“You cursed him,” insisted Tess. “His magic is fading. Fix whatever you’ve done!”

Rose gulped. It was hard to admit that she didn’t even know what she’d done to her friend. “It wasn’t me,” she attempted.

“I should wring your neck, girl!” Tess snapped.

“It was the imp!” Rose chose that moment to point out Zade, who perked as everyone’s attention turned towards him. “There’s some infestation. It’s causing all kinds of mayhem,” Rose went on, unabashed.

“And you have nothing to do with it?” growled Mr. Abrams, who lived down the block from her. His eyes trailed along her decidedly round body. “Suddenly you’re pregnant, have horns, you’re consorting with creatures, and cursing bartenders. And you expect us to believe you haven’t made a mess of things?”

Belatedly, Rose realized her beanie had fallen askew, one of her new horns protruding out. She quickly straightened in to properly cover the top of her head.

The crowd was closing in on her. Old Tess even pulled out her wand.

“I can fix it!” insisted Rose before she could be swallowed.

“You can’t fix nothing,” retorted Tess. “Not even yourself. What the hell are you spawning?” She glared disgustedly at Rose’s belly.

“If any harm comes to me, my parents —”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your parents!”

There were hushed whispers, some people even stepping back. Apparently several of them did care about what Rose’s parents would think of her getting harmed.

“Oli,” said Rose, turning to the young man who seemed to be graying more by the moment. “I can try to fix you. Just let me try?”

Oliver’s lips were pressed in a thin line, his face contemplative. Finally, he gave a grimace of a smile, and nodded. “Try your worse.”

Rose pulled out her wand. She was sure she could undo what had been done. She could offer some of the magic that was overflowing her. Rose twirled her wand once, then pointed at him. “Terra,” she casted.

But once she performed the spell, Rose felt magic flow up her arm rather than out to her wand. It shot into her. Rose grunted as she hunched forward, gripping her belly. She could feel it tighten; shifting beneath her hand. She gasped for breath, wavering somewhat as she tried to maintain her balance. By the time Rose straightened, she was certain she was a few inches larger around. Some people hadn’t noticed, while others were staring at her in shock.

“I misspoke,” Rose tried to explain. “Just a little distracted. Let me try again.”

She twirled her wand. “Deus!”

But again, the magic flowed into her, Rose gasping at the recoil. Her chest warmed, and her small breasts heaved against the V-neckline of her dress. Rose gaped down at a line of cleavage she’d never had before. She must have gone up at least a cup size!

Someone barked a laugh. Others seemed confused, the crowd getting restless.

“Pax!” Rose again tried to cast on Oliver. “Ignis!”

Her dress was changing, hugging against her in inky tendrils of fabric. It had changed as her body grew more plump and maternal, breasts flowing forward, jumping up at least two more cups sizes, until they were wobbling, practically naked in the formfitting material that felt more like fluid than fabric by then. It was a shining black with red highlights. She looked as though she was soaked in oil.

“What in the hell…” Abrams muttered. Everyone was staring at her.

“Rose…” Oliver started.

But she didn’t give up. “Ignis!” she repeated.

Her horns extended. She could feel it. Her body trembled as pressure surged to her stomach. It tightened, inching forward, growing wider and rounder as she groaned, clutching it.

She was certain she looked past due with twins by then. She teetered, unbalanced, as she panted, feeling dizzy.

“Someone take that idiot’s wand!” Tess cried.

Rose tensed at the notion. She warily looked around at the crowd while keeping her wand tight in her grip. But before anything else could happen, there was a minor commotion of…chittering sounds. People blinked around at each other. Finally, necks swiveled and head tilted downwards as everyone discovered the source of the noise. A horde of imps encroached, their number exceeding those of the mages. Everyone froze in shock. It was a surreal moment. The crowd of creatures out in public, and before the sun had even set.

Most of the imps were the height of Rose’s waist, with a few outliers who were taller or shorter. Zade chittered at them, gesticulating as though conversing. It was impossible for Rose to tell whether the interactions were amicable or not. All she knew was that her group was being surrounded, cornered there against the walls of the establishment.

“Baker,” Abrams snarled.

Figures I get blamed for Lyla’s mass, Rose thought bitterly.

A maroon-skinned imp reached behind itself and procured a thick coil of ropes seemingly from thin air. Rose paled.

“For fuck’s sake,” a mage muttered beside her.

-

“Where the hell are we?” Rose wondered aloud as her blindfold was ripped off. She and the others had been transported to another location, and as she blinked around, she realized it was somewhere underground. “What are you planning to do with us?” she asked the mischievous imps as one of them untied her wrists. Around her, the other mages were in various states of being unbound, some standing, others sprawled across the ground.

Someone groaned and cursed as they were untied. The ground was some combination of dirt, grime, and cement. It appeared they were in a tunnel system beneath the city, perhaps used to repair the infrastructure and sewer system. The area was broad and cavernous, with some abandoned tools strewn about, as well as a broken water pump. The grimy environment made Rose want to recoil, but then, her body wasn’t particularly flexible in her present condition.

There she was, perched on her ass, with two dozen members of her community looking terrified, and a horde of little imps offering them fanged grins. The area was remote, Rose registered. No one would find them if something unsavory were to happen.

“What do you even want?” asked a woman with dull pink hair that ran down her back. “You all are followers. If you just let us out—”

Things escalated fast. Two imps grabbed hold of the woman’s arms and dragged her down to her knees. Another imp shoved a man forcefully against the wall, and arbitrarily kicked him in the shin as he howled in pain.

Rose yelped as an imp took hold of her head from behind, fingers twisting in her hair. Another imp shoved the spout of a canteen into her mouth.

Rose gulped down the sweet, sticky beverage. It only took moments for her to finish, after which the canteen was replaced with another one.

Other women were being fed canteens, or large, bulbous fruits unlike anything Rose had ever seen. Tess was screaming and cursing as an imp on her back pulled her hair, while a middle-aged man was desperately trying to detach an imp munching on his ankle.

It was madness. There is no rhyme or reason for these antics, aside from the imps being in a world that made no sense to them, and in numbers that just didn’t suit their nature.

“Fucking hell,” Rose coughed, just before a third canteen spout was shoved into her mouth. Her belly felt tight and full. It was heated; pulsing. She could practically feel it stretching out, and felt like she might retch, but inevitably, she kept chugging.

The dress was peeling back, a hole opening up at her navel to expose her flushed, swollen skin, as her body rocked and she struggled to keep up with the drinking.

In all the chaos, she could see Zade standing around with his arms folded, blinking and looking uncertain. In a muffled moan, she appealed for his help, but he’d have no way to discern it from anyone else’s groans.

She didn’t even know if she had his loyalty anymore. After all, she had just tried to serve him up to the crowd of angry mages on a silver platter. And were the imps in the horde not his siblings? That was something to consider.

Rose gulped down a fourth canteen of juice. It brought her past the cusp of pain and panic, and into a strange, bright high. Her periphery went dazzlingly white, and all she could feel was the rhythmic pulsing of her body as it throbbed visibly, while her chest heaved and her insides lurched. She felt dazed. She felt as though she herself was being incubated in some smothering warmth, her dress hugging and squeezing her, red and fleshy as bits of her skin peeked at the openings. It consumed her like a womb. She was the ultimate mother. A deity of fertility. Plump, flushed, glowing, and growing.

And then she was wrenched away by the force of magic, throwing her head back and wheezing for breath as she came back into the present. Her wide eyes registered a new presence.

Her brother was back.

Felix was covered in cuts and scratches, his dark clothing singed around the edges. His hair was tousled, and his eyes murderous. “Fin,” he growled as he raised his wand.

Instantaneously, All the imps froze, and started to just…dissolve where they stood. Some looked down at themselves in puzzlement as they slowly faded away, their essence turning to fog that rose upwards and dissipated.

“Zade!” Rose cried, reaching out towards her companion, but in only seconds, he too was gone.

Felix lowered his wand, breathing heavily, his jaw clenched and ticking. His raw power was like an aura she could feel emanating from him. Not for the first time, she advised herself against pissing her brother off.

Felix took a step back and spun around, looking wildly at all the mages strewn about in varying states of dishevelment. Finally, his eyes landed on his sister. His jaw went slack. “Rose!?”

Rose only then took inventory of herself.

She was being half-consumed by some membranous throbbing red mound of tissue. It looked like raw meat.

She screamed, flailing. Simultaneously, the fleshy material puffed out, turning to windy black chords of ink. Rose yelped as it snapped against her, now resembling a strappy black dress again. It was skin tight against her, with an asymmetrical hem, and a wide opening at her navel as though to showcase her pregnancy.

Felix was pale as he stared. “What is this?” he asked in a deceitfully calm tone.

“It’s…magic,” Rose said lamely. She tugged at the dress, mildly repulsed. But she couldn’t take it off. Not here. “It c-changes sometimes. The imp made it,” she spoke of the dress. She kept her head down, unable to meet his eyes. She could feel tendrils of the dress recoiling; pulling closer into her. Pronouncing her condition. She was mortified.

“What the hell have you done to yourself?” Felix demanded.

She knew what he was really asking.

“I don’t know,” she admitted weakly. “It’s such a mess.” That was certain.