After tidying the gore from the lab, Diana returned to the nesting cave, only to find a scene of primal savagery. The two imps were gone—or rather, one was. Shattered bone and streaks of dark blood told a grim story: the stronger had devoured the weaker before burrowing a tunnel to the surface. Diana wasn't worried about the "weakling" escaping into the wilderness, but she was exhausted. Three days as the Mimic's brood-mare had drained her, and setting up reconnaissance clones to track the stray imp pushed her magic to the absolute limit.
Back in the base, limp and panting with a persistent, lewd heat in her blood, she watched a new egg hatch. A vibrant purple sphere emerged: a Mind Demon. In the old wars, these were psychic pests, but to a solitary, bored goddess, they offered a new kind of violation.
She brought the basketball-sized creature into the lab and established the recording. To let it in, she had to manually drop her divine mental shields. The monster's thick tentacles latched onto her skull like a parasite. To ensure she didn't accidentally vaporize the room during the trance, she cast a binding spell on her own limbs.
The invasion was a slow, oily slide into her psyche. Diana sat cross-legged, her mind a void, until the purple glow in the demon's eyes synced with her own. Suddenly, she was a ghost in her own shell. She felt her pussy gush with a sudden, involuntary peak, but her face remained a cold, expressionless mask. She was an observer in a theater of her own flesh, watching as the Mind Demon began to "test-drive" its new puppet.
It tried to walk, her high heels causing the goddess's body to stumble and sway like a broken doll. Frustrated, the demon sat her back down, forcing her legs wide apart. One leg stretched forward, the other bent back to expose her dripping, swollen vulva to the sterile light.
The demon used Diana's own hand to violate her. She watched her fingers reach down, haphazardly probing and shoving into her wet slit. There was no rhythm, no care—only a clinical, alien curiosity. The silence of the lab was broken only by the wet slap of her own juices hitting the floor.
The Mind Demon sensed the flicker of magic regenerating in her ovaries. It wanted that power. It controlled her arm, forcing it deep—past her vagina, through her cervix, and into the tight, resisting walls of her uterus. Her body arched in a silent scream of pleasure and pain as her own fist stretched her insides to the breaking point.
'It's going deeper... it's going to reach them,' she thought, a spectator to her own ruin.
The demon wasn't satisfied with her uterus. It extended slender, psychic tentacles from her fingertips, threading them into the narrow, sensitive channels of her fallopian tubes. The intrusion was brutal. More fluid gushed from her, soaking her buttocks and thighs, while her face remained a frozen, terrifying mask of indifference.
The tentacles reached her ovaries, pushing against the delicate spheres from the inside. At the moment of contact, the Mind Demon attempted a total spiritual takeover. It lunged into her core—and was instantly swallowed. Diana's divine essence, even exhausted, was an apex predator. With a silent, soul-level shriek, the demon's consciousness was sucked into her ovaries and extinguished.
The purple body on her head went limp and slid to the floor, a lifeless husk.
Diana's consciousness flooded back into her nerves. She was back in control, but she didn't move. She sat there on the cold floor, her own arm still buried deep within her lower body, her fallopian tubes throbbing from the psychic stretch. The silence returned, but the "lewd Guardian" was no longer bored.
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