Succubated!

“This one? Are you sure?” Una held up the ebon tangle of straps and fabric that Susan had tossed onto the bed. “It looks… a little complicated.” She pulled apart the sides of what looked to be a latex corset, albeit with barely enough material to cover the sides of her torso. A series of leather straps and rings hung off the bottom and sides, but Una couldn’t discern where any of them were supposed to go.

Susan smiled back at Una, her expression playful. “Mmm, exactly. That’s part of the point, isn’t it? The more complex the rigging, the more impressive the result. You‘ll look like an elegant spider caught in its own web, a butterfly pinned to display. Not your usual style, but…” Susan shivered happily as she tossed Una another two pieces of shiny fabric that looked like long gloves. “The result should be delicious.”

Una rolled her eyes but couldn’t help grinning. An hour earlier, after submitting to a thorough examination on Jay Sigma’s wet lab table—the results of which she’d have to ponder later—Una had coaxed the expressionless, golden-eyed Susan into the shower with her. After all, the bathroom was the only place in Jay’s loft designed to ventilate the quantity of steam they produced—the byproduct of their sexual union these days, born from the mingling of Susan’s angelic juices with Una’s demonic flesh.

Once Una had pinned her lover to the glass wall of the shower, she’d licked and sucking Susan’s clit and nipples until she screamed in ecstasy and golden liquid filled Una’s senses with fiery, painful light. In their post-coital delirium, amidst a billow of hot mist that smelled faintly of ozone, Susan had slowly returned to her former self: her eyes brown and warm again, her demeanor eager, bookish and lewd by turns. Una felt so relieved to have Susan back to normal that she had scarcely objected when Susan began suggesting outfits to wear to the fetish party they planned to infiltrate.

“Is that really… clothes? Is it, like, stretchy lingerie or something?” Sherill perched on an armchair in the corner of Una’s bedroom, staring uncertainly at the pile of clothing Susan had appropriated from Jay’s collection. The half-baku girl seemed both fascinated and embarrassed by the scene in front of her, as Una and Susan bustled around in various states of undress.

“The difference between lingerie and fetish wear is primarily about the intended audience,” Susan said, her expression serene. She wore a tight black catsuit in floral lace, which accentuated every curve of her figure and left little to the imagination despite strategically placed panels of fabric. “Lingerie is meant for private viewing by lovers, whereas fetish wear is usually designed with public exhibition in mind.”

Una clucked her tongue, holding up the end of her garment that seemed to be a thong. “I was just saying that I didn’t want to attract attention, Susan! This seems like… the opposite.”

Susan turned and winked at both of them. “Trust me. Maria won’t expect you to be wearing that.”

“Have you forgotten that I’m also bright red, with horns and a tail?” The tail in question swished and curled over Una’s shoulder, as if it knew she’d mentioned it. Sherill giggled and covered her mouth, blushing.

“Dearest, have you forgotten that I think of everything? I have a plan for that.” Susan draped a bolero jacket over her shoulders. “Now… we don’t have young Miss Kincaid in here purely for a kinky fashion show, do we?”

Sherill sat up straighter. “Oh yes, I’m sorry! You were telling me about the end of your oneirotaxis? I mean, your dream. Sorry, that’s what my mother called an extremely long dream like that.”

Una smiled over at the girl as she wriggled into the latex undergarment, trying to avoid getting it twisted around her thighs. “Of course. But that was the end. I fought a series of gargoyles; the mirror vanished, and I walked upstream into the light. The next thing I knew, I was awake… and that’s an entirely different story that doesn’t involve dreams.”

The succubus managed to pull up the latex corset and secure the straps around her waist and thighs; it felt constrictive, but she enjoyed the sensation. “The aspect I really wanted to ask you about was the library I mentioned. I wasn’t there long, but it was in an area full of figures from Yael’s past. Could that library be something like a location in my unconscious, and could I return there?”

“Aha,” said Susan, who was sliding her slender leg into a thigh-high leather stiletto boot. “You want a way of accessing information that you can’t remember consciously, but which Yael knows.” Una nodded.

“That sounds like a memory palace,” Sherill said, scratching at one of the downy ears poking out of her hair. “The ancients used them as mental constructs to remember things, and I wouldn’t be surprised if an immortal dreamer constructed one gradually. If part of you recalls this library, I could probably find the entrance in your dreams.”

Una grimaced as she tugged on the sleeve of her glove, trying to get it past her elbow. The material resisted stubbornly. “Why didn’t I think to put on baby powder? Sorry, Sherill. I really am listening. If we could go back there, there’s no telling what we might find.”

Susan stepped closer and helped tug the latex over Una’s forearm. “Hmm. I must agree. Arcane lore, spells that Yael’s forgotten she even knew, clues about the past.”

Sherill cleared her throat. “It’s not always that easy. Memories, especially long-buried ones, often have safeguards. And it sounds like a vast place. We could try, but..” The girl trailed off, and both Una and Susan turned to her with raised eyebrows.

“But what, sweetie?” Susan prompted.

Sherill gave them a helpless grin. “I think it might take a long night’s sleep, at least. And it seems like you guys will be pretty busy tonight. Is it like… a goth club? Or what kind of place?”

Susan put her hand to her mouth, smiling. “Something like that. You could come with us, you know!”

Sherill shook her head bashfully, and was about to answer when several bangs resounded on the bedroom door, along with an irksome yell. “Are you all still dolling up? In my clothes, no doubt?”

“Fuck off, Jay!” Una called back. “It takes as long as it takes!”

“You’ve had enough time to get dressed twice! I’m supposed to DJ tonight and we’re going to be late for my set.” Jay’s footsteps faded away down the hall, and Una rolled her eyes.

“Are these even his clothes? How many of them would fit him?”

“Jay Sigma is nothing if not a clotheshorse,” Susan said. “You’d be shocked what he can fit into: corsets, dresses, go-go boots, you name it. And the rest is for dressing up others.”

“I’m still worried that we’ll attract the wrong sort of attention at this party.” Una stared at herself in the mirror; the amount of scarlet, rounded flesh exposed by the outfit made her self-conscious. “Jay keeps saying that the gossip about the gender-swapping succubus, or whatever they’re calling me, has only grown in the months since we last visited.”

Susan held a finger to the succubus’ lips. “Shush. Now put this on.”

She held out a leather collar, and Una raised her eyebrows. “Really? You want me playing the submissive tonight?”

The scholar’s smile was sly. “I did just hear about your dream escapades, remember? All the horrible demon power games, the gold slave-girl bikini? Indulge me.”

“All right,” Una said with a smirk. “But no leash.”

***

SUBMISSION, although a long-time institution of New York’s queer and fetish scenes, had only grown stranger in the years since Portal Day. Once upon a time, the strangest sight in the Brooklyn club might have involved a group of elderly crossdressers in princess dresses, gasping in admiration at a latex-clad woman whipping a man spreadeagled on a X-shaped cross.

Nowadays, ordinary humans rubbed shoulders with a dizzying range of supernatural beings, though they weren’t always easy to recognize. The flash of a fang, or an unusually hairy or scaly arm, often went unnoticed in the dim, pulsating light.

Jay Sigma, usually the most reclusive of the party’s organizers, stood behind a pair of turntables tonight, sending the reverberations of a throbbing industrial track through the dance floor. He touched an earpiece and said something that was lost amidst the din, then bent towards a microphone to address the crowd. “The midnight bell tolls, children. Here in the darkness, your every desire may be satiated… as long as you do so safely and consensually, of course.”

Two women in matching leather bodysuits, one with a cat mask that covered the top half of her face, and the other with fox ears, swayed side by side as they surveyed the crowd. The fox tapped the cat on the shoulder and pointed to a figure who’d just entered: a tall, pale beauty with striking green eyes.

The woman’s pink-streaked ebony hair fell in a long cascade on one side with a close-cropped undercut on the other, and her lean body was encased in a latex ensemble that put every muscle and curve into delightful contrast. She moved through the throng as though she were walking on air, and the crowd parted around her.

“Holy shit,” whispered the cat. “Is that Kaitlin Mortensale?”

“No way,” replied the fox. “Her nose is a little different, and the hair color is improbable. Kate M is modeling in Monaco, right? I mean, we would have heard if the hottest dyke in the city was back. Did you hear how Anastasia hooked up with her?”

The cat scoffed. “Don’t believe everything Anastasia says. But who cares? Whoever that is, she’s fucking hot. Look at those abs! And she doesn’t seem to know anybody. Should we…?”

The green-eyed beauty stopped in her tracks, and her nostrils flared as she seemed to notice something. She looked around, and her eyes fixed on the cat and the fox. The pair exchanged excited glances. The stranger strode toward them with determination.

“Hey.” The newcomer’s voice was husky—and her voice did sound a lot like Kaitlin Mortensale’s, the fox noticed. Her breath caught as the woman moved close enough to talk.

“Um. Hey, yourself!” The cat was the first to recover her composure. “I’m Bex, and this is Lia. We haven’t seen you here before, have we?”

Green Eyes shook her head, her eyes still scanning the club, though they soon flickered back to the animal-eared pair, still searching.

“Well, that’s good,” said Lia, with a smile she hoped was seductive. “We’d remember someone as gorgeous as you… what’s your name?”

“You can call me Kelly.” A faint smile played around the woman’s bow-shaped lips; they seemed to shine, even in the low light. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, either: showing off her sleek body but without femme energy. Lia shivered.

Bex boldly took Kelly’s latex-gloved hand in hers. “Good to meet you! Has anyone ever told you that you look like Kaitlin Mortensale?” The fox nudged her companion, and Bex winced. “Shit, I’m sorry—that sounded so creepy! It’s not like I’m obsessed or anything, I just… she’s really hot. And you are too!” Bex laughed nervously.

Kelly chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “I have gotten that before, yes. Hey, I heard some weird magic stuff happens here sometimes—is that true?” Her head tilted as she looked back and forth between them.

Lia bit her lip and grinned, exchanging a glance with Bex. “Of course. I mean, why do you think half the people in this crowd are here? SUBMISSION never used to get this crowded.”

“Let me guess,” said Bex, still holding the new girl’s hand and patting her arm eagerly. “You heard about the Lady Una, right?”

Kelly’s finely arched eyebrow shot up. “The Lady Una?” She pronounced the name with exaggerated formality.

Lia leaned in with a conspiratorial glance around, bringing Bex with her into the huddle. “I mean, everyone kinda knows about this, but we’re not supposed to talk about it because of government regulations, I guess? The Lady Una is this super-hot demon chick who comes here sometimes. She changes people’s bodies into their ideal selves. Well, supposedly. Like, if someone’s trans, she’ll change them into their true gender.”

“Supposedly, she turned a Catholic priest into a woman? And I heard she fixed Marilee’s deviated septum,” said Bex, her voice cautious. “Gave her that new perfect nose. But I also heard was only here that one time?”

Lia shook her head. “Nah, she uses different names and looks different every time she goes out clubbing.” She eyed Kelly curiously. “But you’d have to ask Maria to know for sure. The Lady Una actually changed Maria into a part-demon girl!”

“Really? Does Maria, uh… have powers too?” Kelly asked. Her green eyes seemed to reflect the ambient light. From the other side of the room, large speakers pumped out the rhythm of a techno track, and a cheer rose as Jay began mixing in samples from a classic hip hop tune.

Bex’s feline ears bobbed as she tossed her head back, her dark curls swaying. “From what they say, yeah! She’s, like, the Lady Una’s protégé or something.” She turned to Lia. “Uh… should we tell her about the thing downstairs?”

The fox-eared girl leaned forward and rapped her knuckles lightly on the forehead of her friend’s mask. “Apparently you just did? Maria and her crowd are downstairs in the sub-cellar. Closest thing this place has to a VIP lounge, and supposedly someone will get transformed tonight. I guess they know if the Lady Una’s showing up?”

Kelly ran her tongue over her teeth and grinned. “Sounds like all the action’s downstairs. You two interested in checking it out?”

Lia shrugged, but with a gleam in her eye, and Bex nodded vigorously; the pair led their new acquaintance across the room, through an unmarked door and down a narrow staircase. The sounds of the dance club grew faint, and Kelly looked around at the plain brick walls and concrete floors with interest. They passed a few alcoves shrouded by thick curtains, and Lia commented in a stage whisper, “We don’t want to disturb anyone down here! Private play rooms, you know?”

Against the backdrop of the pounding bass shaking the building from upstairs, the three women could now hear a different musical track: a disco beat with a twangy melody, punctuated with recordings of moans and sighs that sounded as if they’d been lifted from a porn movie. A peal of feminine laughter came from somewhere ahead, followed by a chorus of chuckles in response.

The trio rounded a corner and stepped through an old, vaulted archway into what might have once been a wine cellar. The space had been converted into a sort of lounge, with plush couches and low-slung chairs surrounding a circular dais in the center of the far wall. On the dais sat a large armchair in red and gold, holding a single figure who lounged with a regal air.

“That’s Maria,” whispered Bex, though the identification hardly felt necessary. Everyone in the room seemed focused on the young blonde, as if she perched on an altar. She wore a black leather bustier circled by multiple belts, with similar leather straps reaching up to her neck and shoulders, and circling her arms as well. Maria’s impressively long legs were barely covered by filmy black skirts that draped over the chair; two pale horns curled and branched over her skull, parting her brilliant golden hair.

“… so you must have wondered what life would be like,” the supernatural blonde continued, seemingly in the middle of a speech, “if you just threw off all your hangups. All those rules and taboos and expectations.” Her gaze swept across the crowd, many of whom sat on cushions arranged on the floor in a semicircle. Murmurs of agreement rose from the audience.

“What if we just let ourselves enjoy our desires and each other’s bodies, without guilt or shame? Obviously, that’s what the sexual revolution was about, and fine establishments like our very own SUBMISSION.” She mimed polite applause, and a few of her listeners clapped along. One of the heavily built blondes behind Maria handed her a goblet of red wine, and she sipped it before continuing. “The thing is, though… one revolution isn’t enough!”

She lifted a long black fingernail, pointing upwards. “What good is enjoying sex when you can’t enjoy your own body to the fullest? Some of us struggled with gender dysphoria—I sure did, though I did my best to ignore it.” Maria’s audience murmured again, nodding and whispering. “Others just feel like they never look right, or they don’t feel like themselves, and they can’t figure out why. But what if I told you… we could fix all that?”

A wicked grin spread across Maria’s face. “Don’t worry, darlings. I might have horns these days, but I promise I won’t devour anyone’s soul… as long as you behave!” She winked at the audience, and a few nervous laughs echoed around the bare brick walls.

“You’ve probably heard the gossip—the rumors of my magical ability to transform those who desire and deserve it. What can I say? Most of it’s true! I know you’ve heard of my mistress, the Lady Una.” Maria’s smile turned wistful, and she sighed, taking another sip of red wine. “She gave me an incomparable gift—she revealed me as I truly am, and she made it possible for me to share that gift… with you.”

One man seated on a pillow spoke up, his eyes shining with eagerness and apprehension as he stared at Maria. “Shape-changing sounds fantastic, but what’s the catch? Unstable nanotech? Or does it come with a curse?”

Maria flashed a dazzling grin. “Good questions to ask. After all, energy doesn’t come from nowhere and neither do bargains. In this case… a certain amount of vulnerability and openness is required. My powers draw on the divine energy of sexual release. And yes, that means you gotta fuck to get changed.” She winked again, with an open-mouthed leer. “But hey, we’re at a sex party, aren’t we?”

The audience murmured again, some sounding confused, while others chuckled with anticipation.

The succubus on the dais snapped her fingers, and the sound cracked like a whip. “So who’s first, kitties?” Her eyes scanned the room, pausing as she noticed Kelly. “One lucky volunteer can demonstrate the potential of transformation for the benefit of those who’re more reluctant and gain the honor of showing the way to self-liberation!”

The crowd shifted, and a few of the audience members looked around uncertainly. Bex and Lia moved aside with surprised expressions as Kelly stepped forward, her hips swaying and her green eyes fixed on Maria.

“Haven’t seen you around before.” The blonde succubus eyed her up and down, taking in the assemblage of straps and cords that bound the woman’s lithe form. “You’re certainly dressed to impress… and don’t I know you from somewhere?”

The green-eyed woman shrugged, smiling faintly. “People say I look a little like a certain celebrity.”

“Oh, yes?” Maria’s gaze remained cool. “But you’re not satisfied with what you look like? You want… something more?” She leaned forward and cupped Kelly’s chin in her hand. The other woman didn’t flinch.

Kelly tilted her head, a question in her eyes. “Everyone does, I guess. Satisfaction and desire are like a dog chasing its own tail: part of what keeps humans going.”

Maria’s smile became predatory as she leaned back in her throne. “So tell me what your ideal body looks like, darling. I like to visualize what I’m working on.”

The woman in front of Maria blinked. In that moment, her eyes went from a brilliant shade of emerald to a milky yellow, with pupils elongating horizontally, like a goat’s.

“Maybe I’d better just show you,” she said.

Kelly’s lean form rippled and shifted, her curves swelling into plush roundness in her hips and breasts, new flesh pressing against the straps and rings of her outfit. Her skin darkened in patches, turning a deep red, and her hair lengthened and darkened, becoming smooth black waves that fell in uneven crests around her shoulders. Two ridged horns burst forth from her forehead, curving back over her skull, and a dark tail emerged from the base of her spine, curling lazily around her left leg like a snake.

Gasps and shrieks of surprise echoed through the room, and several of the onlookers scrambled back. Maria’s eyes widened, and she rose from her ornate armchair, staring defiantly at the red-skinned demoness.

“I half suspected,” said Maria. “You can’t really pass for human anymore, at least not to anyone who knows you.”

The second succubus turned and executed a graceful bow for the benefit of the stunned crowd. “Pleased to meet you all. It’s me… the Lady Una.”