Succubated!

The darkness faded from Una’s vision, and she rubbed her eyes in confusion. Moments ago, she’d fallen back on Susan’s carpeted floor, but now she felt a chilly breeze across her skin. She was lying on something that was soft as a carpet, but wet and cool, with the scent of earth. Disoriented, Una reached down and touched the surface beneath her: some sort of springy loam, or a bed of moss. She couldn’t quite make it out—the layer of mist that blanketed the ground was thick enough to swallow her hand in layers of damp haze.

Una turned her head to look around. She was outdoors, though the clouds above were gray and flat enough to pass for a mile-high concrete ceiling. Sounds of water rippled nearby, and in the distance were low, gnarled shapes—trees, hillocks.

Someone was approaching her swiftly, footsteps through the fog. A form appeared—slightly smaller than Una, wrapped in a black cloak. Instinctively, she pushed herself backwards. She scuttled along the ground, feeling too disoriented and weak to stand.

A woman pushed her hood back as she stooped over Una, took the succubus’ head in her deep-red hands.

“Greetings once more, my nest, my pet.” The all-too-familiar visage of Yael, an impish sister to her own, was looking down at her. One sharp tooth hung over the lower half of Yael’s grin. Her curly, midnight locks fell in tumbling chaos around her shoulders, pierced by the curve of her spiraling horns. Her eyes danced with merriment, but with an uncanny cast lent by her rectangular, goat-like pupils—just like Una’s own.

“Yael?” Una had not seen her former tormentor-turned-ally for nearly a week. At Spencer’s camp, the ancient succubus had been caught in a magical security net, unable to do more than whisper out of reflections. They’d last spoken in a vision, visiting Yael’s ancient home of Ur. In that dreamlike world, they’d to become one. “Where…” Una began, looking around again. “Where are we?”

“Hmm. This looks like Crymlyn Bog. I think I lived here once, a thousand years ago or so? Before they covered the hills near here with mines…” Yael stepped gingerly over a wet patch of peat moss to approach Una.

“Crymlyn?” Una rose to stand on her own hooves. “That sounds… Gaelic? How in Heaven’s name did we get all the way across the Atlantic?”

Yael rolled her eyes, glancing at Una with a lazy smirk. “It’s Welsh, and we’re not anywhere. We’re inside your mind, silly little bird. You’ve retreated inside of your subconscious, into some memory you pulled out of my vast experiences. I’m here with you, just as I always am.”

Somehow, Yael was calmer and more restrained than Una remembered; the succubus was lazily examining her black fingernails. Who knows, thought Una. Maybe she’s less manic and grasping now that she doesn’t have to fight me for control of our body?

Una stretched her stiff limbs, then realized to her embarrassment that she was completely naked. What was I doing just before I woke up here? I was in bed, with my clothes off…

Distracted, she blinked twice and peered at Yael. “So… am I talking to myself, or are you still a separate entity, possessing me as demons are wont to?”

“Yes, exactly,” said Yael, not bothering to explain. “Hmm, you’re looking quite healthy. Body turned out well, if I do say so myself.” She put an arm on Una’s shoulder and turned her around, cupping one side of her ass with a hand and jiggling Una’s flesh. “Mmmm, yeah. Grade A bouncy-bouncy.”

“Quit that!” Una brushed Yael’s hand away, and the other succubus smirked. “I have a million questions for you and not one concerns how to firm up my butt. Where have you been? Why can’t I hear your voice anymore?”

Una gesticulated and paced until her hoof splashed into brackish water, then turned towards Yael. The elder demoness sat on a low stump by the water’s edge and crossed her legs, regarding Una with silent amusement.

“On the other hand…” Una continued, running a hand through her sleek hair, “…if we’re one person now, why don’t I know and remember things that I’m sure you know and remember? Why don’t I have access to your memories?”

“Hmm,” said Yael, bouncing her upper thigh on her other knee. “Probably I’ve just got too many memories? Nearly a hundred centuries of them. To be fair, I spent some of that stuck in Hell, but still. Even I don’t remember most of it, most of the time, unless I need to. But clearly, we’re not one person. You’re not me. Or you wouldn’t be talking to me. Who do you think you are, you little ditz?”

Micki blinked. “Wait a second… when I’m talking to you, I feel like I’m just… Micki. Instead of Una, both of us. Are we… split apart in here?”

Yael let her robe fall open, revealing her supernaturally perfect breasts, nestled in a skimpy black bra. She produced a long cigarette holder from the sleeve of her robe and lit the cigarette with a snap of her fingers. “Augustine, that horrible little Manichean masochist, conceived a lot of the Hierarchy’s bullshit. The most pernicious, if you ask me, was the idea that the soul is indivisible. You are just one part of Micki, talking with me, one aspect of Yael. And we are still Una.”

Micki’s mouth nearly dropped open. The Yael she’d known was not given to discussing theology.

Yael noticed her expression. “Like I said, we’re not completely distinct… just as my personality once infested you, your priestly bullshit’s getting into me. Or rather,” she added, after exhaling a puff of blue smoke, “it’s bringing certain memories and tendencies to the front.”

The ancient succubus fixed Micki with a level gaze. “Now, care to tell me why you brought us here?”

The confused look on Micki’s face shaded into nervousness as her forehead creased. “But I thought… wait, you’re saying I caused this?”

“And here I thought you’d figured out how to disentangle our personas. That might come in handy, especially if you have questions for my assets.” The succubus shook her shoulders, and her wine-dark breasts swayed. “By which I mean my vast tracts of lived experience, of course. Maybe something happened that knocked your awareness into some kind of hibernation, or something?”

 “I’m having a hard time remembering.” Micki frowned. “I think I was with Susan…”

Yael clucked her tongue. “Should have known. Miss Brain was probably fooling around—oh no.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Micki blinked at the moue of distaste that curved Yael’s mouth.

“Shush. I should have access to your recent memories.” She extended a finger in the air, as if turning a page, and a phantasmal book appeared in the air. Droplets of mist coalesced into pages that shimmered and flipped in response to Yael’s motions.

Yael glared at Micki. “All right… why on earth are you guzzling angelic energy? There’s a reason I haven’t tried to suck off an angel in…. oh, six or seven thousand years!”

“Saints…” Micki shook her head slightly, as if to clear cobwebs from her thinking. That’s a mannerism of Michael Belmont’s, she thought, feeling the puzzle-pieces of her identity shuffling. “Susan… The angel seed in her… the energy overflowing!”

She stepped towards Yael and clasped the other demoness’ hands. “How do I get out of here? Do you know what’s happening to our body, with Susan?”

“Oh,” said Yael, flipping pages. “You went berserk and tried to devour her flesh.” She tossed the cigarette holder over her shoulder onto the misty ground, where it promptly vanished.

“Wait, what!? I was angry before… I screamed when I absorbed that big droplet in my hand, but… good lord! How do I wake up?” Micki spun around. She saw nothing in any direction but mist, bog, and damp air. The scene made a marked contrast to the fiery experience of consuming Susan’s angelic energy, she realized.

“Calm down,” said Yael. “Your twee bookish princess has it under control, at least for the time being.” Yale made a series of arcane passes with her hands that Micki recognized, somehow, as scrying sigils. Mist rained upwards to hover around Yael’s crimson hands; tiny droplets arranged themselves into a grainy but startlingly detailed moving image.

In the water-pixelated view, Micki saw Susan bent over a form that she recognized as her own, despite the lack of color. Susan had Una’s tail gripped on one hand, stroking it with languid motions. Her head nodded up and down slowed in Una’s lap as the succubus in the image moved, swaying against the bedsheets.

Wait… her arm! Micki stared at the image; a ragged line of darkness stretched from Susan’s bicep to her wrist, spreading into a smear. What happened? Is she hurt? If she’d been wounded, Susan paid it little heed; her motions seemed deliberate, eager, though also incredibly slow as if they were watching a video played at a tenth of actual speed. Perhaps time passes differently when you’re basically talking to yourself, she pondered, like it does in a dream.

“Is she… getting me off?” Micki couldn’t tear her gaze away. It was strange, watching herself get fucked. Her face, slightly hard to make out in the watery blur, had its mouth open, and her tongue was lolling to one side. How terribly embarrassing.

“She’s keeping you occupied. Lust suffices in the place of rage, especially for one of us. Smart girl, and so talented,” Yael noted. “I sometimes think about how much easier my existence would have been if I’d only bargained to possess her instead of you, my troublesome priest. But alas, it was not to be.” The elder succubus sighed.

“The clever little slut won’t be able to keep that up forever, of course. You’d better get back out there and purge the divine spunk out of your system.” Micki winced, a heaviness settling over her limbs. Even the thought of the burning fluid was overwhelming right now. She felt exhausted, and just wanted to lie down… in this soft, cold loam.

She forced herself to straighten. “All right. How do I get rid of that… essence? Susan has been… coughing it up, I guess? Storing it in containers. But that just leaves more of the stuff around.”

Yael clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Her concern is warranted. It’s terrible stuff, angel jizz. Or whatever you want to call it. Too pure and holier-than-thou to be proper spew. The only way to purge it, to keep that golden blood-seed from infesting you, is to rage it out with wrath and lust and… Hmm. Theoretically, there are other options, but those two have always been my faves, honestly.”

“What about envy?” sneered Micki. “You certainly spent long enough pining after this body and complaining that you needed one for your own.”

Yael returned the sarcastic glance. “Ha ha, little sis. Now I have a body—ours. Even though it comes with know-it-all roommates. Be careful how you speak to my aspect of our mind, or I’ll leave you bereft of my millennia of wisdom!” She spread her fingers and studied her long black talons with feigned nonchalance.

Micki said nothing for a long moment. Her face felt hot, but there was no point in fencing further. They’d wasted enough time struggling over the body of Michael Belmont, back when Yael had gradually transformed the middle-aged priest into… well, into Micki.

Yael cast off her pretense of boredom. “All right! Enough dallying, I’ll show you.” She gestured, and another cloud of misty water beads rose in the air. It formed into the shape of a well-formed man, with flowing hair, a noble mien and great wings folded at his back. Micki couldn’t help but glance at the impressive cock between his legs, despite knowing Yael had formed it from vapor. Yael kneeled in front of the mist-angel.

“Oh darkness, Uriel… it’s so big, I don’t know if I can… yes! Yes! You’re so much better at this than that prude, Sandalphon! Give it to me, you naughty angel—mmmpphh mghhphg!” Yael flailed her arms, pretending to gag and choke.

“Is… this play-acting really necessary?” asked Micki. “I thought you said we didn’t have a lot of time!”

“Shhh,” Yael glared. “I’m getting into character to demonstrate properly.” She mimed swallowing, then gasped and clutched herself, her muscles tensing. “Nooo! It burns!”

“I just swallowed a bunch of the actual thing, and although it was intense and painful… I didn’t feel inclined to yell ‘Nooo! It burns!’ in the heat of the moment.”

Yael pouted. “You would yell something if you got face-fucked by an archangel. It’s like mainlining solar plasma! All right. So when the seed’s in you, before you freak out completely and lose your mind, you just… blow it out.” Yael took a deep breath, arching her back and letting the dark cloak slip from her shoulders.

The succubus’ wine-red breasts thrust towards the sky as she spread her shoulders, then exhaled. An enormous cloud of steam billowed out of her mouth, pouring off her shoulders and falling towards the cool ground. More steam puffed out from between her legs, wisps exuding from every pore. Yael smiled and sighed. “Then a deep breath, relax and stretch every muscle, walk it off. This is the way.”

“That’s it?” Micki looked puzzled. “You exhale, and steam comes out?”

Yael rolled her eyes. “As with any rite involving mystical energy, your intent is paramount. Focus on expelling the heat. You are as unto a volcano erupting. Steam is the least damaging way to do so. You may want to open a window, I suppose?” Micki looked skeptical.

“Look, if you can’t figure out how…” Yael tapped a cheek, thinking. “Well, I had a sister who claimed it helped to push her bellybutton while loudly yell ‘toooot!’ But that just seems silly to me.”

The new succubus shook her head. “Whatever. I’ll give it a shot. Now, how do I get back to my body? Out of this… vision? I’m worried about Susan… although I also have a million other questions to ask you.”

Yael looked at her blankly. “Don’t you mortals wake up when things get sufficiently disturbing? Like when you catch on fire, or eat someone you’re fucking? Or is that just what happens in dreams I’m in charge of? What do you think waking up should look like?”

“Ideally a pleasant stretch and a yawn?” Micki frowned. “Or… I don’t know, a doorway of light? Diving and coming up out of a pool of water?”

Yael raised an eyebrow. “Do you always have to overthink everything? Why not just open your eyes?”

“Okay, but… can I ask you a few more things first? How long do we have? How much is time slowed down here relative to the waking world?”

Yael let out an exasperated huff, then consulted a non-existent watch on her wrist before turning a page in her mist-formed book. “Hmm. You’re going to want to get back there after about… the count of twenty, I’d say. Ask your questions. I’ll count down and snap you out of it. Twenty!”

“Um… wait, what’s happening in twenty seconds?”

“Nineteen. Something you won’t want to miss. Eighteen.”

The succubus spoke at spit-fire speed. Micki stammered further as Yael paced towards her.

“Your names can’t control me. Am I still part human? Or like a demon, do I have a true name?”

“Fourteen.” Yael chuckled. “All things have a true name. But you’re new, so perhaps you haven’t discovered it yet. Ten seconds.”

They were a hand’s width apart now, and Micki stared into eyes like her own, mirrored. “What do you mean, new? How did you unify us into one being when you couldn’t before?”

Yael slipped her hands around Micki’s waist. “Seven. You became a demon. Demons sometimes devour each other, though rarely with love. But you’re not all demon, mortal-born. Something new. Four.”

“Yael, how can I remember what you know?” Her voice was frantic.

“Three. Keep being me, pet. Two. One.” Yael grasped Micki’s breasts, then pushed her off-balance with a forceful shove of both palms. Micki gasped as she fell into the cold, brackish water.

“WAKE UP, jizz-for brains!”

***

Una became aware of her physical body again just as Susan brought her to climax. Her girlfriend was bent over her, frantically licking and stroking. Shockwaves of sensation pulsed through every part of Una: tingles radiating from Susan’s slippery, deft grip on her tail; waves of shuddering pleasure roiling within her cunt; and bursts of liquid heat still painfully pulsing through her gut and veins. It was unbelievably intense—Una writhed as Susan continued to drive her wild, her body desperate for relief from the searing pain.

Then it all exploded outward: a cascade of bliss washing over Una’s skin like spring water on a hot day, refreshing and calming the inferno of agony she’d endured. Una arched her back as wave after wave of orgasmic ecstasy swept over her; Susan kept lapping greedily as Una bucked against her lover’s mouth, thrusting her hips involuntarily.

“Oh, fu—fuuuck! Holy fuck!” Una tensed and flailed out with one hand, accidentally slamming it into the wall above Susan’s headboard. Her fist left a large hole in the drywall; Susan moaned around Una’s cunt at the impact and sent her lover spiraling even higher into her release.

Una’s body finally collapsed on the bed beneath Susan, drained and gasping for breath. Susan sat up on Una’s torso and leaned forward to kiss her demon mistress tenderly on the mouth. First, their lips pressed together in a languid dance, then tongues intertwined with gentle motions as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

It’s not over, Una realized, feeling the heat intensifying inside of her like a boiler with its gauge spinning towards the red. I’ve got to push that energy out before it overwhelms me again. She struggled up from the bed and took a deep breath.

“Susan, get back!” The other woman looked startled at Una’s sudden growl, then obediently scampered towards her headboard. Una exhaled, letting out a hiss like a radiator. Susan covered her mouth as Una exhaled again—this time, the demoness felt a gush of steam billow out from between her lips like a tea kettle. One more time: a deep breath before stretching out her spine and bellowing, “Haaaaahhhh!” White clouds roiled from her nostrils, her mouth, even her ears. Una could feel the steam scalding the sensitive lips of her pussy, burning its way out of her cunt like vapors from molten fissures in the earth.

Her limbs quivered with exhaustion as she relaxed onto the bedsheets again; Susan leaned over to wrap Una in a tender embrace as Una caught her breath. Una blinked. It worked?

“Welcome back, mistress.” Susan purred in Una’s ear, planting kisses along the demoness’ neck and shoulders. “Did you get all my juices out of you?” She gave Una’s left horn a gentle tug with one hand while running her other hand through Una’s sweat-soaked hair, combing it away from her forehead with loving strokes.

Una groaned with exhaustion; her cunt felt sore and swollen with residual heat and sensitivity. “Wait,” she said, trying to sit up. “Your arm! Are—are you all right?”

“Mostly unscathed,” said Susan, reaching out to caress Una’s face with one hand; the demoness noticed a smear of red on Susan’s thumbnail, and the scholar’s eyes looked dreamily unfocused.

She’s different again, Una realized. Back to the old Susan.

Her lover was smaller, almost dainty compared to the amazon Una had laid on this bed earlier. Her body no longer bulged with muscle and voluptuous curves. Susan was her familiar self: on the short and delicate side, with gentle curves and breasts that made perfect handfuls, and… a ragged laceration gouged out of her arm.

Dried blood streaked the whole limb, centered on the bloody, missing chunk at the center of her left bicep. Una now noticed stains across the bedsheets well—and worse still, blood that still trickled from the wound.

She gasped in horror. “Holy crap! You are bleeding. What the… please tell me I didn’t—did I?” Una moved to get a closer look at Susan’s arm. “Oh, hellfire… what happened…?”

Susan gasped for breath, and Una was unclear whether it was in pain or the aftershocks of pleasure. “It was you, but not really—you went into a kind of bestial rage, not yourself at all. Una, it’s not your fault. I—I asked you to take in that energy. But I didn’t realize it would overload you like that. I did this to you, not the other way around.”

Una looked at Susan with horror; she reached for Susan’s head and held her close. “Please tell me you’re all right. I don’t know what to do if you weren’t.” She pulled back Susan’s face, cradling her cheeks with her crimson hands and looking into her eyes.

“I’m fine, boss. I swear on my mother’s ashes.” Susan coughed, making her words less than convincing. “Look! I still have an angel-seed in my chest, healing me.” Una peered at her bloodied bicep. There were little traces of energy crackling along the edges of the ragged wound. But if they worked some kind of healing magic on Susan, it was slow work.

“Stay here. I’m going to patch you up. Get you some food and water, too.” Una stood up and looked around, then opened the window by Susan’s bed to let the clouds of vapor drift out into the night.

Susan watched her, drained but amused. “Looking like that? You’ll scare the mortals, dark mistress.”

“I can wear that floppy hat you always leave in your closet… and did I leave those boots here? The satyr-made hoof boots you got me, so very long ago.” Una spoke as she rummaged around in drawers.

“I haven’t been here in a while… I was staying at the rectory while we were trying to find…” Susan lay back on the bed. Una looked over. Her faithful assistant and loyal lover was asleep, or unconscious. She checked Susan’s pulse; warm, steady, and the wound on her arm looked to be congealing.

Thank God that succubae don’t have poisonous bites, thought Una. That’s probably just a business consideration that has nothing to do with God. Hang on, Susan. She put Susan’s broad, black hat over her horns, grabbed a coat and strode into the night.