Succubated!

Carol Miller and Una Belmont had met before, but Carol understandably didn’t remember. The circumstances of their second meeting had been quite distracting, what with Carol surprising Una and Carol’s adopted daughter during an enthusiastic round of cunt-licking.

That wasn’t all, of course; when originally introduced, Una had looked quite different. Different haircut: gray, thin, and balding then, a sleek black bob now. Different coloration: yellow eyes and deep red skin replacing watery blue eyes and pale complexion. Different build: a paunchy, middle-aged priest was now a curvaceous, red-skinned succubus. Father Michael Belmont had worn a cassock at the time; Una Belmont wore… well, nothing at all, unless you counted the horns, hooves, and tail that marked her as a demon.

Nothing that Carol Miller could recognize remained of her daughter’s pastor—well, except for some mannerisms and habits. A gentle smile sometimes played across Una’s face, and she’d kept her tendency to get flustered easily. For the most part, the aging pastor had been replaced by a stunningly sensual creature whose every movement radiated supernatural eroticism.

If anyone could explain this to Susan’s mother, it might be John Hayes, as the other priest in permanent residence at St. Andrew’s. John wasn’t quite sure how he’d explain the whole situation—but he’d already decided that revealing his role as another of Una’s lovers wasn’t wise.

Instead, he sat Carol Miller down at her own kitchen table and poured her a glass of water. Maria hovered nearby, looking apologetic. They’d all thought it best if Cassandra kept watch somewhere a little further away, perching on the stairs.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Mrs. Miller,” he began, “and I know it may not make sense… but the person you saw upstairs is my partner from St. Andrew’s… Father Michael.”

Carol just stared at him. She’d stopped screaming a while back, but still seemed in shock. “That… that can’t be true!” she said finally. “That thing—it can’t be a human being!”

John nodded sympathetically. “I know it must sound very peculiar--”

“Peculiar? No shit, it’s peculiar!” snapped Carol. “There’s a demon in my house! What kind of—is that slutty creature what they call a succubus?!” She said the word as polite society had banned it from Scrabble for obscenity.

“Uh,” stuttered John. “Yes ma’am. That’s what we call them.” He said a silent prayer of gratitude that Mr. Miller had somehow slept through all of this. His wife’s screaming; everyone running to help; the surprising reunion with Una; a round of relieved hugs until John led Carol away, and still George Miller slumbered on.

“And you claim that Father Michael has turned into a sex demon?” said Carol with an accusing air. “That my daughter’s been sleeping with a demon? Sleeping with… her parish priest? This is absurd! You must think I’m an idiot, Father.”

John took a deep breath. “Look, Mrs. Miller. I can’t present you with any evidence that would convince you. I’m sure Father Michael—Una, as she’s now called—would remember when you met. You might not believe her word, since she… well, she looks like a demon, I know. Still, I can give you my word, as a man of the cloth--”

“As a man of the cloth,” interrupted Carol, her emphasis sarcastic and disdainful. “So let me get this straight: you’re telling me that a demon possessed Father Michael and transformed him into a succubus. Did you do anything about it? Did the Church?”

John nodded. “Quite a lot, in fact. We’ve all been trying… to deal with the situation as best we can.”

He made a mental inventory: the Church had suspended Father Michael from the clergy not long before she began calling herself Micki. Then the Curia for Supernatural Warfare kidnapped Una and tried to brainwash her, eventually leading to the destruction of the facility they’d all just escaped.

And what about me? The thoughts flashed through his head. I tried to support Michael in staying true to himself, his principles. But when he became Micki, when he’d become fully female… we ended up in bed together. On and off for weeks.

Carol stared at him, and there wasn’t much he could say about recent events. “None of the… steps taken to remedy the situation worked. That’s probably obvious, given what you saw upstairs. Still, Mrs. Miller… I know Una. I knew her before, and I know her now. She’s still a good person, regardless of what she looks like. She cares deeply about your daughter.” I wish I knew all that with as much certainty as I say it out loud… since I’m not even sure how much is Micki and how much is something else.

“If… he… she… if it cares so much about Susan,” stammered Carol, “Then why did I find them doing unspeakable things in her bedroom? Depraved acts I thought Susan had grown out of!”

John winced. He’d tried many times in the past to have a careful, progressive Catholic conversation about tolerance for sexuality. Despite the misgivings of hardline priests and lay Catholics, John had always tried to walk that tightrope. But he didn’t think he could summon the will to do it at this moment.

***

Upstairs, Susan pawed through a cardboard box in her closet. “I’m sure it must still be in here. My mother wouldn’t have thrown it out… I hope.”

Susan’s strange affect, the blank-faced obedience with which she had serviced Una, had worn off gradually. Una felt a twinge of regret; there was something so incredibly wrong, but so ridiculously hot, about Susan obeying her without question.

Hell’s bells, she thought. Why do I feel so turned on by dominating humans? Or is it just Susan who gets me wet? Was it the influence of Yael whispering to her, the voice of the ancient succubus who was now part of her psyche? Or the effects of absorbing Nezz’s seed, the nectar of control? She shivered.

“Susan,” Una asked tentatively, “what did it feel like when after you tasted the nectar? Did you resist it somehow, or did it just happen?”

“Hmm…” Susan kept rooting around in her closet, tossing out a spiked boot, followed by something that looked like a shiny scarf. “I guess it was like a dream, but also like I was… watching myself? I don’t remember thinking about it or fighting it. It just happened?”

She turned to gaze up at Una, her large brown eyes glistening with amusement behind her glasses. “I wanted only to please you. To do anything and everything you wanted… but it wasn’t as if I felt like resisting, or like it was wrong. I was… helpless.” She shuddered slightly, though a faint smile played across her face. “As though you owned me.”

Susan rolled onto her backside and lifted a foot to rub it against Una’s calf. “You said it felt like your body is metabolizing it? Maybe that means you can produce some more. I mean… it’s clearly very potent, many potential applications, but uh…” Susan faltered, her hands clenching. “I’d love to have some more for our personal use. That is… if you wouldn’t mind commanding me again?”

Una felt her cheeks grow warm. “I guess that means you liked it.” Then she paused. “What did you mean when you said it was as if owned you? What does that even feel like?”

Susan rose to her feet and started going through the back of her closet. “It wasn’t as if someone pulled my strings like a puppet. I think Yael did that once. This was different… it was more like you were taking care of every decision for me. Driving my desires, filling them with… you.”

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes shining again. “Still, I don’t think I would have done anything I really didn’t want to. I mean… it’s not as if swearing like an angry biker is against my moral code. And even without a magical elixir, I usually thirst for your hot cunt in my mouth, mistress.” She winked.

Una couldn’t suppress a giggle. Susan finally pulled something from a hanger wedged in the back of the closet. “Here it is! Hopefully, this will fit you… if it does, at least you won’t have to walk around my parents’ house naked.”

The garment was long, shiny, and looked to be made of leather. Susan handed it to Una, who disentangled the legs. “What is it?”

“It’s a bike suit. All black leather, shiny and expensive. I bought it secretly when I was… just starting my sexual exploration phase. Try it on! You should be able to leave an opening for your tail.”

 

As soon as Una slipped into the black outfit, she could feel how supple the material was. She fastened the zipper along the length of her body, pulling one of the paired sliders down between her cleavage, between her legs and up the cleft of her ass.

The sensation of having the leather close over her bare pussy made her quake and press her legs together. Next time, I’ll ask Susan to borrow some underwear too? The zipper went all the way to the end of her spine, and she left an opening at the top for her tail to stick through.

The leather molded itself perfectly to her shape; it hugged her breasts like a second skin and left little to the imagination where the rest of her was concerned. It was sleeveless, rising to a collar around her long neck, but showing off her toned arms and shoulders, lean and crimson. Her hooves slid right out of the leg holes; she’d just have to remember not to materialize her wings. She stood and looked herself over in front of Susan’s mirror.

Her dark hair fell in two smooth wings around her chin, in an inverted bob. Her eyes looked expressive and mischievous, though clearly inhuman. Una ran her hands up her body slowly to her chest, feeling the hard nipples pushing against the thin fabric of the bike suit. Then she unzipped the suit from the neckline down to reveal her cleavage—considerable even without a bra and pushed together by the leather fabric. With a small tug on the zipper, she let her breasts bob free completely. They were firm and round, with big black areolae that pushed out from her wine-red skin like round bruises.

Susan was staring over Una’s shoulder, and she gasped slightly when she saw the succubus’s bare breasts again. “Beautiful,” she breathed. “But uh… let’s put them away for later, at least if we’re going to go talk to my mother.”

***

Susan and Una quietly approached the archway into the kitchen, not quite stepping into sight. John was talking in a typically calm voice.

Carol responded, much more agitated, “That’s ridiculous! How can he still be the same person if he’s not even a man anymore? And with the desires of… of a harlot from hell?” Carol stood by the stove, a quaver in her voice as she clenched a plastic spatula in one fist.

John’s own tone remained calm. “Perhaps we should remember what the Church says about these things. The immortal soul is--”

“Oh, God!” Carol shrieked and dropped the spatula, which clattered loudly on the floor. “Don’t talk to me about souls! My Susan’s going to Hell, isn’t she? You can tell me, Father.” The older woman paced across the kitchen towards the glass doors that led into her backyard.

“I knew she was getting wild at school, just like her birth mother… but I thought she’d at least gotten over her phase of experimenting with girls! Girls are one thing, when you’re young… but demons!?” Carol’s voice was growing ragged with strain.

Una looked in concern at Susan. Her friend’s face was hard, set in a look of resignation. There would be no arguing or fighting with her mother, her expression seemed to say. Susan looked like a daughter who’d long since given up on convincing her mother that her inclinations didn’t make her a harlot or a deviant. Still, it hurt Una to see her friend so distraught because of their love.

Susan stared out the window for a moment as they listened to Carol rant, but then hurried to the sideboard. She took out a bottle of sherry and a small glass. She motioned Una over and spoke in a whisper.

“Do you think you could, ah… produce some more of that nectar from your tail? Just a drop in this glass.” She filled the tiny glass almost halfway before handing it to Una, who stared at Susan with incredulous concern.

“You want me to drug your mother so I can… dominate her?” Una whispered back. “Are you sure that’s wise, Susan? Especially if she doesn’t know…?”

Susan gave the succubus a grim smile. “I’m not planning to take advantage of her, all right? I’m just worried about what could happen. If she starts crying hysterically or screaming—trust me, Una. I know her. She’s capable of working herself up to where she’ll call the police.”

Her gaze returned to the window, looking worried, and Una couldn’t help but follow the direction she looked. “If she relaxes and stops freaking out about… about us having sex in the privacy of my bedroom!… then we can just head out of here and I’ll deal with her later.”

Una held her hands up. “I don’t know, Susan. We know barely anything about Nezz’s nectar. What if I give her too much? What if it… changes her somehow?”

Susan looked at her boss and lover, and Una could see an old sadness in her eyes. “This is the only way I can think of to protect ourselves. I tried it, didn’t I? It wore off, and I’m fine. Here, let me see that.” Una’s tail was snaking back and forth to one side, evincing her agitation. Susan expertly curled her arm around it and began stroking the tip.

Una gasped softly; the effect of simple affectionate touch on her sensitive flesh was surprising and a little overwhelming. “W-wait, Susan, that’s a lot—” she began. But Susan was already caressing the bulbous end of her appendage, coaxing it, squeezing. Una grabbed the edge of the dining table and closed her eyes.

“Okay,” she breathed eventually, letting her head fall towards the wood surface. “Just a little drop. But hurry, or I might cum again. Then they’ll definitely hear me!”

Susan held up the glass of sherry and the tail tip over it. She squeezed one more time, causing Una to shudder. Then she tipped the tail down over the rim of the glass until there was a single drop hanging from the end—and let a drop fall into the glass like a viscous bead of green honey. Susan let go of Una, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and glided into the kitchen.

***

Carol Miller sat at her kitchen table, looking much more relaxed. The glass of sherry was in her hand; apparently, it was her favorite way to unwind. It hadn’t taken much suggestion for her to sip at it while yelling at Susan. After a few seconds, Una had heard the woman’s voice grow quiet.

Una chose that moment to step into the kitchen, drawing stares from John and Maria. Carol’s eyes widened as well. “You must be Una,” she said with a hint of fascination. “I saw you upstairs, but we weren’t introduced.” She laughed lightly to herself. “That wasn’t very nice of you two.”

“What are you talking about?” Una asked cautiously.

“You should have just knocked at the front door, dear! Any friend of Susan’s is welcome here, especially someone so… illustrious?” Carol smiled graciously, even pleasantly. She seems a bit… stoned? thought Una.

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Miller. I got stuck without a stitch of clothing, and… I felt embarrassed.” True enough, thought Una. She glanced at John; he was watching their conversation intently with a raised eyebrow. “I’m glad that we can all… talk calmly now?” She tried to phrase it as a suggestion, but it came out sounding more like an inquiry.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” said Carol. “You’re among friends here, and you don’t have anything I haven’t seen… well, I guess you do,” she said, staring dazedly at Una’s sinuous tail. “But you look simply amazing in that suit, is that couture?”

“Hot Topic Limited Edition, Mom.” said Susan.

“Mrs. Miller,” asked Una, “Would it be all right if we stayed here for a little bit? We have some business in the neighborhood, at the ah… campsite we were hiking to.” Susan had filled Una in on the story they’d told her parents.

“Of course!” said Carol enthusiastically. “If you need food or supplies or whatever, just ask. George and I can make supply runs. Oh! I’m sorry; did you all want breakfast? It’s nearly six o’clock, I can make breakfast!”

“Please, Mrs. Miller, don’t go to any—” John started, but Una interrupted him.

“I’d love some pancakes. Thank you so much.” Una flashed a smile at her hostess. Carol’s eyes met hers, then drifted down to the front of Una’s outfit. They lingered on her breasts briefly before returning to her face. “And… I don’t suppose you have french fries?” Una continued. “Not sure why, but I have a strong craving for french fries.”

“Fries?” repeated Carol. Her gaze shifted from Una’s chest to her crotch and back again. “Why yes! Of course… I’m sure I’ve got some in the freezer.”

“Perfect. Let’s all have breakfast. Should we call Cassandra in?” Una flashed her dazzling teeth at everyone present, and John couldn’t help but stare at the succubus’ sharp canines.

***

“You know,” said Carol, “I’ve heard that people can get addicted to drugs after only one dose. Do all succubae secrete mind-controlling substances, or just you, dear?” She giggled, looking as if she was enjoying herself.

Una coughed. “I don’t really know. It might be unique to me?” Susan nodded, her eyes wide as she chewed a mouthful of pancake.

“Not everything is chemically addictive, Carol!” Maria chimed in. “You can definitely get addicted to something just because you like it!” She popped a strawberry in her mouth. “I mean, I kind of feel that way about sex, now that I have the body I always wanted?” Carol nodded appreciatively.

“We all had a magical orgy last night—is that the right term, Susan? Or was it just an orgy that made magical energy?” Maria shivered, her bosom quivering in her deep-cut halter top. “And all I can say is that I’m looking forward to the next time!” The blonde winked at Una.

“So, Una… are you going to make me into a little slave girl for your sex cult, too?” teased Carol.

Susan almost spit out her pancake. “Mom! Oh my god, please stop!”

“Well,” said John. “This is certainly remarkable.” He set his knife and fork down, having barely touched his pancake.

“Mrs. Miller, don’t you find it disturbing that half an hour ago, you were telling me how horrifying it was that daughter had anything to do with a succubus? Or let me ask you this… doesn’t it seem wrong that you were forced to change your mind?” John stared around the table, raising an eyebrow at Susan and Una in particular.

“Pass the syrup,” said Cassandra, who was cutting three slices of bacon atop her pancake with a large bowie knife.

Carol shrugged and grinned at John. “Oh, I was just startled at first, Father Hayes. Now that I think about it… if it makes Susan happy, then why not? Look… we all get uptight sometimes, right? Take it from an old lady: it’s not all bad to partake of a substance that loosens you up.”

She smiled at Una, then reached out to pinch one of the demoness’ dark red cheeks. “Besides, nobody told me this former priest was such a cutie!”

Una giggled like a schoolgirl, then winked at John.

“I’m still worried,” said John, looking back at Una. “What happens when this wears off? Isn’t she going to… regret all of this?” He glanced around the kitchen; Carol, Maria, and Una seemed perfectly happy, while Susan and Cassandra were diligently concentrating on their food. He abruptly felt very alone.

“Honey, I’ve had more than a few regrets in my day! After two whiskey sours, I remember all of them! You learn to live with it. Heck, sometimes I regret marrying George.” Carol sighed as Susan made an imploring face at her.

Susan turned to John. “I understand your concerns, John. After all, I ingested some of the nectar too—I know how potent it can be. But when it faded, it was gradual… like coming back to myself. Sure, it was strange, but there wasn’t a sense of sudden disconnect with things I’d done under the influence.”

Maria poked the air with a fork. “On the other hand, it was not strange at all that you wanted to grind your face in Una’s lap, Susan!”

“Oh girls, don’t fight! I’m sure Una will let you both bury your faces in her lap when she has time,” said Carol. “Now finish your pancakes.”

George Miller wandered in to pour himself a cup of coffee. He blinked in surprise at the red-skinned, horned woman sitting at his kitchen table, then wandered back out. Susan snorted back a laugh.

Carol rolled his eyes. “That man wouldn’t pay attention if his own wife turned into a smoking hot succubus!”

“Hmm,” said Una. “I suppose we could test that theory?” Susan slapped her on the arm. Una gave her a wink before turning to John. “Perhaps another experiment is in order. Father Hayes… John. Would you approve of what’s happening to Mrs. Miller if we helped… improve her life somehow?”

John nodded slowly. “Two wrongs don’t make a right; I know you remember that. But I suppose you intend to leave her life better off than when we arrived? I know you mean well, but it’s like she’s not even the same person I was talking to an hour ago. Are you sure you can judge what’s best for her?”

“I was just a little upset,” offered Carol. “I’m fine, really!”

Una took Carol’s hands in hers, and the older woman shivered in excitement. “Mrs. Miller. Carol. Is there something about your life that’s been bothering you? In your relationships, in the bedroom… about yourself, even?”

Una’s voice was gentle, ministering. “If you’re willing to talk about it—really open up and try to be honest with me—we can work together to sort it out.”

Carol’s smile widened; she looked like an excited kid. “Of course! I’ve never really gotten any satisfaction from my husband--”

Una put a hand on her chin. “Not quite what I meant. I’d rather not try to change someone else, especially someone as absent-minded as Mr. Miller.”

“Tsk,” replied Carol. “You have a one-track mind, dear. I’m not talking about his body, it’s about the dynamic between the two of us. He doesn’t even notice me sometimes, always off in his own world.” She looked at John for confirmation. “That doesn’t sound crazy, does it?”

John shook his head slightly and tried to smile. “Not at all.”

Una leaned over toward Carol and whispered something into her ear. Carol blushed deeply. “Could… Could I really?”

Una nodded and whispered something else. “If you say so, dark mistress!” replied Carol with a grin.