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Acolyte 82: Your Partner is the Mancubus

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Welcome to the UAC Demonic Breeding Program, Acolyte 82!


You have been selected by the Mancubus!

Please consider this a selection a special privilege. The UAC has had five (5) prior attempts to breed the Mancubus, but unfortunately, the candidates dropped out before any attempts at mating could take place.

As such, the Mancubus is a bit of a “lifer” with us - he is an older generation, brought in prior to the Armistice as a test subject, but thankfully he was not subjected to any experiments/vivisection.

Please keep this in mind when you meet him. His body bears battle scars, but his cannons have been disabled. As such, a UAC Breed Tech will be on hand for assistance. Other accommodations for his post-war condition will become clear to you when meeting your designated sire.


Do the UAC - and yourself - proud, Acolyte!

Remember: It’s not about you, it’s about the future!


     Like the other women in the breeding program, you exit an elevator with other soon-to-be mothers, all wearing plain cotton robes. You spot 87, who was in your signup group. You feel a little jealous that she got chosen by not just one but two Marauders - they’re the most human and really hot, but you’re okay with who chose you. You think might feel a little less self-conscious around him, since he’s a bigger demon, and you’re not exactly a waif. The exterior door before you opens like an airlock; you slip in your fertility voucher and wait for the door to open.

     You head into the Mancubus’ room when it does. The chamber is like most of the others you saw on the tour, furnished with basic things, but you immediately understand what the letter you received meant by the Mancubus being a “lifer” in that room. While the others are pretty spare and basic, this room looks lived-in.

     The carpet has some matting where there’s heavier traffic, the bed area is a custom job with a sloped mattress. There’s actually a couple of posters, as well as a vase with artificial versions of what happens to be your favorite flower on the stand near the bed. Another piece of furniture, closer to you, has a strange frame to it - it looks like a bed, but there’s a sort of scaffolding beside it that you can’t even begin to understand what it’s for. Keeping your eyes moving, you look away, taking in what you can.

     There’s a buffet-style table to one side set up with the Mancubus’ food. You notice that half of the table is covered with pikes; since Mancubi have no hands, the pikes hold up various cuts of meat, and a few large fruits and vegetables so he doesn’t need to rely on a handler at all times. The other half of the table lacks the pikes, and the food is all on plates and trays - you guess its for the tech to hand-feed him.

     Near the long table stands the Mancubus and who you assume must be the breeding tech - they’re in a cleanroom suit, and it’s hard for you to tell anything about them outside of the white-on-white-on-white PPE. Even their face-shield obscures their features.

     Whoever they are, they’re arguing with the Mancubus.

     “I’m supposed to be in here. They told you this earlier!” the tech says, and even their vocal quality doesn’t give you a hint of a gender.

     “Don’t care. Don’t want you here,” the Mancubus growls. “Want to--” That’s when he notices you’re standing nearby, trying to shrink yourself away as to not seem like you’ve just heard whatever they were fighting about.

     “Go away! Go!” The Mancubus swats at the breeding tech, who dodges his arms. You notice that, while his cannons have been decommissioned, he still retains the frames on his arms, and they’re covered with a thick foam padding that looks duct-taped into place.

     “I’m supposed to- Oh. I’m sorry. I am-” the tech begins when they notice you, catching one of the Mancubus’ arms before it hits them in the head. “We’re having a little disagreement.”

     “No disagreement. Want. You. OUT,” the Mancubus says. “Scare the girl.”

     You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not scared of them…” You take a deep breath - normally you wouldn’t get into a fight like this, but it seems like some diplomacy is in order.

     “Why don’t you leave?” you ask the tech, and they falter.

     “I’m not supposed to leave you alone. He might-”

     “Won’t eat the girl. Not dumb. I know she’s not food,” the Mancubus grumbles.

     “See? Don’t you trust him to keep his word?” you ask the tech, and even though they’re completely covered and look like a plastic-wrapped mannequin, they still manage to look bashfully down at the floor.

     “It’s not me, it’s-”

     You cut them off. “It’s not about you, it’s about the future,” you say, turning around that stupid catchphrase the UAC’s been using. Feels good to fling it at one of them.

     The tech rakes their hands down their face and shakes their head. “Fine, fine, I’ll go. But if he eats you and I catch Hell for it, I’m-”

     “What are you going to do? Resurrect me?” you huff. “Oh no, how awful for me.” You grab the tech by their suit collar and give them a little steering toward the door. “Goodbye.”

     The Mancubus is laughing behind you as you escort the breeding tech out and shut the door behind them.

     “Ha! Listen to Mancubus next time!” he calls, even though the tech is gone.

     You return to where the Mancubus sits by the dining table, dusting your hands.

     “Well, that’s done. Should I help you, or…?”

     The Mancubus shakes his head. “No need. Have mine.” He gestures toward the end with everything on plates and trays. “That yours. We eat together.”

     Your eyebrows shoot up. Now you understand what that survey the UAC sent you was for - to plan a meal ahead of time. Your mind flits back to what else you read - you’re the sixth to be chosen by Mancubus, but the first one to show up. And he requested a meal for you.

     Like a date.

     You’re pretty sure everyone else just headed to get banged by the mortally challenged. But the Mancubus wants to have dinner with you first.

     Now you feel really bad about the “beanbag” comment you made in the hall to 87. You figured the Mancubus might just lay there and leave you to do all the work; and he set up a date. You recall that all the information on the Mancubi was recorded by the UAC and it dawns on you that it has some pretty heavy biases in the data. Especially around his kind.

     The UAC thinks they’re all just fat idiots when one of them is trying to woo you with food. And when you examine the table, you realize it’s pretty much all your favorites, just at proportions geared toward a creature of his size, not yours. And while you’re not exactly petite and have a hearty appetite most days, you couldn’t possibly eat all of it alone.

     You’ve been staring too long and notice that the Mancubus has started, sitting himself by the table and snatching a side of some sort of meat off a pike and chewing it loudly.

     “Not good?” he asks, muffled by his meal.

     “Oh, no- I mean, yes, it’s all fine, I just…” You feel like a real jerk, so you decide to make it up to him by picking up an apple from the table. It looks genuine, not like the ones being grown in the small hydroponic fields the UAC controls, but like it came off a real tree in a non-Hellified zone. When you bite into it, you want to cry. It’s juicy and sweet, not mealy or bitter in the least. It has that real “crunch” when your teeth pierce the skin and you moan a little.

     “Real good,” murmurs the Mancubus, and you laugh at his expression. He’s watching you try your meal, so you offer him another apple from the tray.

     “You like apples?” you ask, holding it up to him.

     “Like everything,” he says, but leans over to take it. He curls his tongue around your hand and you realize it’s about as wide as your palm is and possibly longer than your forearm. You blink in surprise when he pulls it out of your hand that way and sits back, chewing thoughtfully.

     “Apple good. Girl good too.”

     Your eyes widen and you wonder if that’s why his handler dresses like a grocery bag - to keep him from tasting anyone. Still, he doesn’t seem interested in you, rather the food he has on his side, and it hits you:

     That was him flirting.

     You smack your forehead with your hand. He’s trying, and you’re still caught up in all your preconceptions that they whizz past you at breakneck speed. You chomp on your apple with the aggression you want to throw at yourself because here’s this demon, a veteran by his people, and he’s just… being.

     “You okay?”

     You look up and see him looming over you - you don’t know how you managed to miss a creature eight feet tall by six feet wide at the shoulders coming towards you, but you did, and he barely made a noise.

     “Yeah, I’m just… Not really hungry.” You sigh and go to chuck the core, but he eats that out of your hand, too. “I guess I came in here with expectations and none of them are what’s going on right now.”

     “Oh?” You can see him look away - his eyes are a bright, glowing green, but they’re turned away from you at the moment. “Because I’m supposed to be a big, dumb demon?”

     That makes you blink, rapidly, in surprise. But, it’s unfortunately true.

     “Well…” you reach out and put a hand on his belly. It’s a little smaller than some of the others you’ve seen, but that’s because he has a humungous scar running across the front of it, like someone tried to cut through him with a chainsaw but didn’t get very far. His skin is warm, dry and leathery, but not like old, dusty leather - more like a broken-in baseball glove. Softer and pliant. It certainly looks like it was sewn back together with heavy sinew.

     You pat his stomach to get him to look at you.

     “I’ll admit, the UAC doesn’t paint a pretty picture about you Mancubi. There’s still a lot of mistrust and fear while everyone adjusts to…” you raise your other hand, drawing circles in the air. “This whole new situation. I mean… a breeding program is… sort of in the right direction, but it’s kinda cynical, if you ask me.”

     “I know.” The Mancubus turns and goes over to his side of the table, drinking from a large bowl of water. Nearby is a stand with a towel wrapped around it, allowing him to clean his face.

     “Why I wanted you to eat with me,” he says. “You get to know Mancubus. Maybe you not run like the others.”

     There’s that pang of guilt again. You take a deep breath.

     “So, you know they ditched you.” You know what it’s like to be stood up. Who doesn’t? Maybe that’s why you were determined to see this through, but you still had that UAC-influenced bias about him and other Mancubi.

     “Well,” you say, striding up to him. You put a hand on his arm, the fleshy part above where the cannon used to mount. As you do, you realize that it’s not just thick from fat, but muscle - the whole of his body is like the exaggeration of a championship weightlifter - and give his arm a small squeeze.

     “I’m sorry they did that to you. People assume things about me, too.”

     Mancubus gives you an angry look. “Who do that? Why? What you do wrong?” and you realize, to your relief, that he’s not mad at you, but on your behalf.

     “Humans are pretty shallow, let’s just leave it at that.”

     That doesn’t seem to satisfy him, but he nods anyway, shuffling away from the dining table. You follow, until he scoops you with one of his arms and up onto his stomach. Even without hands, he’s able to grab you no problem, and get your confirmation that you were right about him being strong under the fat layer.

     “I like you. You gave me a chance.”

     You reach out and hug his thick neck. He moves his head so you’re not caught on his tusks, and wraps his arms across your back.

     “You make me feel so tiny,” you giggle.

     “You are tiny, next to Mancubus.”

     You lean back, chuckling. “Is that just what you call yourself? Mancubus? Not anything shorter?”

     “Like what?” He gives you a suspicious look, and you laugh again.

     “I dunno. Manny? Manny the Mancubus?”

     His tiny nose wrinkles at the suggestion. “Just ‘Mancubus’ is fine.”

     You laugh at his expression, until you realize he’s grinning, too. He must like making you laugh because he scrunches his nose a few times more, wiggling it like a bunny nose and you crack up.

     His chuckles are deep belly laughs that make you bounce on his gut until he carries you over to that weird bed-contraption… thing. He moves aside a bar in the middle and sets you down on a wedge-shaped mattress. Your hips are elevated like this, and you  realize that it’s an assistive device for the two of you; he’s ready to move forward with your evening.

     “Oh…” you gasp, feeling your body heat up. The scaffolds on either side, you notice, are supports for the cannon frames still attached to his arms, as he slides the empty barrels onto the posts angled in his direction. He tests their give before clicking his arms into place so he doesn’t crush you.

     “Ready for me now?” you ask, feeling a little nervous. You thought you might have put him off, but he was just waiting for you to be more at ease.

     “Are you?” he asks, and you nod. You hadn’t opened your robe yet, so you wriggle out of it, exposing your naked form to him. His eyes widen as he takes you in, and he licks his chops.

     “Pretty,” he murmurs, and you feel like it. He’s been courteous, he set up a meal, a date, for the both of you, he made you laugh… and now he says you’re pretty and you believe it because he’s not exhibiting any of the demonic behavior you’ve been told to expect out of him. Definitely none of the stupidity the UAC branded him with. More importantly, none of the rage, attempts at intimidation, or anything like that.

     The war’s over, so he doesn’t need to be violent and mean. Not to you, anyway.

     You beckon him down, and he leans forward. You can see the muscles in his arms flex as he supports himself with the frame around the bed, leaning closer. You also notice the little window in his chest - you can see his heart, glowing with demonic flame, and it gets brighter, beats faster as he nears you.

     “Mm… smell good… taste good…” he murmurs, and his head goes lower. “Bet you taste real good…” he continues, and you don’t have to guess the rest of his sentence as he hooks under your ass with his tusks, tugging you a bit closer. You part your legs as he nuzzles his face against your pubic mound, lapping his way in.

     His tongue, broad and flat and a little sticky, drags right over your vulva in a clean swipe, and you gasp at the texture. It’s all bumpy, a bit like wet rubber, but not awful.

     You’re really glad you kicked out that tech now, because the only thing Mancubus seems interested in eating is your pussy as he drags his tongue up and down in broad strokes - and you’re no exhibitionist. You can’t imagine having someone lingering nearby in a HAZMAT suit, just waiting to stuff something in his mouth like a pacifier.

     You clear your thoughts and focus on what Mancubus does instead. He’s taking his time licking your labia, top to bottom, in and out, so you’re already panting when he gives a wicked little chuckle. You feel his tongue tense, turning to a thick shaft of muscle that he drives right up into your cunt. You cry out as he penetrates you, and you just briefly remember that a Mancubus can eat literally anything. There were pictures coming out of the war of them sucking human bodies out of power armor like oyster shells - and you only remember it because this war vet has a very powerful tongue and he’s driving it into you like he intends to devour you from the inside out and… and…

     You throw your head back and grip the sheets under you. “Holy shit,” you yelp, pushing on his shoulders with your feet as you rock through an orgasm. You just came harder than you have in your life and he’s still driving that tongue into your cunt with so much force your voice hitches and octave and you shudder as you come again almost immediately. His tongue draws out of you with a wet, sucking sound and you lay back, trying to catch your breath. Your legs drop when he unhooks your hips from his neck and lets you onto the bed.

     “Holy… fuck… oh…my god…” you pant, throwing an arm across your face. “You… you win… I am so sorry…”

     “Don’t be. You’re here. You didn’t run away,” Mancubus chuckles, and you peer up at him.

     No, you didn’t. Those idiots who passed up the Mancubus because they were shallow and scared are the sorry ones. You’re still hung up on the fact that it was just his goddamn tongue, and your cunt flexes in expectation of more.

     “C’mere, big fella,” you say, crooking your finger at him. He adjusts his position and leans over you. “Gimme that tongue,” you snicker, and he lolls it out for you, allowing you to suck on it. He groans, pushing it farther into your mouth, like he intends to fuck your throat next, but doesn’t go nearly as hard as he did with your pussy.

     He draws back a few moments later, disengaging one of the frames to wipe at his chin.

     “Knew you tasted good,” he says, grinning and proud of himself. His expression has you warm all over. He’s not stupid at all - maybe a little clumsy with human language, but not stupid. Certainly knows what he’s doing with you, anyway. You wonder, briefly, if the demons were given reading materials like you and the other women were provided with or if any mortally challenged have some residual memories.

     If it’s memories, you silently thank whoever he learned eating out with for helping him hone his skills.

     “Ready for more?” Mancubus asks, and when you have your wits about you, you see he’s closed in the support bar in the center. It holds up his stomach and you get a look at his cock, hard, already drooling precum in anticipation. It’s definitely thicker than his tongue, just as bulky as the rest of him, balls fat and heavy hanging under it.

     What really catches your eye though - his legs. You knew they would have to be strong to hold up the bulk of him, and now it occurs to you that he’s going to be using them to drive his cock into you and you shiver.

     “Oh God yes,” you say - you want him to fuck you with that cock. You want to feel him fill you up and hammer you with the driving force behind those over-muscled legs.

     He’s eager to please, and you want him to be happy, too. You spread your legs and reposition yourself so you can guide his cock to your pussy. You’re all slick with your own wetness and his thick saliva; his precum makes everything sloppier as you rub the head against your entrance before easing it in. Your heart’s pounding already and that’s just the tip of his cock as he slowly pushes in, stretching you taut.

     Your legs are already shaking and you cover your mouth, trying to not be too loud.

     “No, lemme hear you,” he grunts, beginning to pull back.

     “Ohmygodohmygodohmyfuckinggod…” you chant, shaking at the sensation as he draws out his cock.

     He’s so thick your cunt grips him as he eases back, right up until you feel the head threatening to come out, then he pushes it back in and you realize his first stroke wasn’t even bottoming out until the second and you feel his balls against your ass and you could swear his dick is in your ribs. You push up on your elbows and see a bulge in your stomach where his cock is inside you and you fall back, just breathing rapidly.

     Somehow you still want more stimulation than the slow torture of his cock inside you and you start pinching your nipples. Maybe it’s just to distract you from coming right away but as your hands pull and rub at your breasts, Mancubus leans down and frames one with his tusks. He flops that impossible tongue out again and rolls it around your tit, squeezing and drawing it into his mouth to suck on like he did your cunt… which he thrusts into a bit harder and you cry out again.

     You hear that evil little chuckle from him once more and open your eyes to see him treat your other breast the same way, accompanied by another hard thrust. He’s watching your reaction and by the grin he gets on his face, he knows he’s on the right track as he pulls almost all the way out, head at the end of your pussy, and just shoves in.

     He’s not even going that fast but the strength from his tree-trunk legs has you coming again when he hits your limit and you see your stomach bulk out.

     “Manc…Mancubus… you’re… I’m gonna go nuts…” you pant. He’s made you come four, five times, you’re not even sure, and he’s barely begun.

     “Been waiting for a nice girl,” he says, leaning over you. He can’t kiss you, but he nuzzles his cheek against yours. “Someone good… want to keep you with me.”

     You’re ready to promise him anything at this point. You hug his neck and kiss all over his fat cheek.

     “I’ll stay… just please, don’t stop now.”

     “Okay.” He nods and gets himself upright, waiting for you to brace yourself.

     You hold your legs back as far as you can stretch; he starts thrusting faster, still working his way up to speed, but the wetter you get, the easier it is on him, so he moves faster, slamming your hips down. He disengages with the supportive scaffolding and punches both arms into the mattress on either side of your head. Your body is bouncing as he fucks you hard and deep; you grab onto his stomach to keep him from shoving you off his cock.

     You feel his balls slapping against your ass with the juices from your cunt making a mess all over. You’re not even touching your clit but the bottom of his gut rubs against it while the thrusts and you’re pretty sure you’ve just squirted but you can’t tell - it’s all just wet and slick and messy and you feel really fucking good even while your cunt’s being stretched to its limit around his fat cock and you’re coming again…

     Mancubus has been grunting and growling as he pounds you, showing a bit of that ferocity his kind were known for during the Apocalypse War, but he keeps his gaze fixed on your face, when you can see him. Your eyes keep dropping shut when he rubs your clit or pulls back and you feel fucking empty without his cock inside you and you’re still coming, making more of a mess just as he lets out such a ferocious roar that you’ll find out later that everyone fucking heard but right now you feel him dump so much cum into your little human pussy that if he doesn’t get you pregnant, you’ll be too fucking happy to let him keep trying again and again and again.

     You feel suddenly cold and empty when Mancubus falls back. You barely have the strength to lift your head to see him sitting on the floor, looking dazed. You want to get up to comfort him but even trying to move makes you convulse. You feel your cunt pulse as it recovers from being stretched like that, and you definitely feel his semen leaking out of you. You’re a mess, the bed’s a wreck - you can see sweat running down his temples and arms and you know it’s not all his. And that not all of it is sweat, especially on his thighs.

     “M-Manny?” you say, getting his attention. “You okay?”

     He nods, grunting as he gets to his feet. You still can’t move, so he leans on his cannon-arms like crutches and gets close to your face.

     “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks, his voice really soft and concerned. Even though his brow is sculpted to look angry most of the time, you can see genuine fear in his eyes. Like, if he hurt you, he’ll be so upset with himself that it makes you a little teary-eyed that he cares. About you. A nameless human he just met, just to breed.

     “No, Manny, I’m good… I might be sore later, but right now, I’m fucking golden,” you chuckle. You may as well be high, for how good you feel. You gasp as your cunt twitches and your hips flex upward, expelling a little more semen onto the bed under you. “Oh… fuck…” You reach down and massage your throbbing pussy, drawing a filthy hand away, sticky with… everything.

     Mancubus frowns - or Manny, maybe, since you didn’t hear him correct you over calling him that - and scoops his arms underneath you.

     “Okay. You rest now. Hopefully, you’ll get babies… if not… we try again?” he says, carrying you over to where his bed sits, leaned against a wall. He sets you down on a vaulted bed - you assumed it was for him to rest his arms on when you notice there’s only the one, and he settles himself in beside you. The bed is about level with his chest and you smile at the foresight. He had them put in a place for you to lay with him, and you snuggle up next to the window where his heart is displayed. You hear it beat a little faster as you get close to him.

     “I am definitely all for trying again,” you say.

     He tucks you in, pulling a blanket over you with his teeth. He rests one padded arm along your back. You trace the frame of his heart window and sigh, exhausted.

     “Good,” you hear. “When you wake, I eat you some more.”

     You laugh, and he does, too.