Succubated!

The wet lab was a sterile, windowless room the size of a bedroom, its walls tiled in white ceramic panels. A single fluorescent bulb shone from the ceiling, casting stark shadows over the rows of bottles and trays lining the shelves. A long, stainless steel table sat at one side of the room, but a more modern adjustable surgical chair dominated the center. Adjustable arms on either side sported a varied array of attachments, trays, and instrument holders.

Jay Sigma walked around the room, turning on equipment, including a second set of monitors similar to the larger set in the main workshop. “All right,” he said. “I've given you the basic rundown a couple of times. You want to go over it again, or do you want to ask me questions?”

Una rubbed her temples, a frown creasing her brow. “I'll summarize what I know. Nanites are tiny robots, so small they can operate at the molecular scale, and they… rearrange things by having a lot of them operate at once, right?”

“Correct.” Jay had a small rod in his left hand, which he pointed at a display. The screen changed to show a schematic of a many-sided object with small protrusions. “And what limits nanotechnology?” Without waiting for an answer, Jay kept moving around the room. He lifted a hoop with cables attached to it in one hand and a heavy cannister composed of copper and ceramic plates in the other.

Una sat down in a small folder chair and tucked her towel behind her. “I didn't prepare for this quiz… Let's see: the most important safeguards include energy, or resources; nanobots can only use specific sources of power or raw materials. Impermanence is another one, right? They don't go on forever, even if they're making more of each other. After a set time, they disassemble into… organic waste and trace elements?”

“Basically, yes.” Jay slotted the canister into a larger tank with pipes attached and twisted it. A puff of vapor emerged along with a sound that went kshhh-thunk. “I wouldn't let that answer slide on a grad-level exam, but you're a layperson. All right, what else?”

“Okay,” Una continued, “the disassembly is something we had problems with here on Earth, because of communication? Or information transmission, whatever the difference is. But off-world, in portal realms where they have functional nanotech, they use magic—or something like magic—to direct nanobots. That ties into the fourth limitation, which is… environment?”

“Scope, or context.” Jay had a small screwdriver in his teeth, which muffled his words. He handed “Please place this with the sticky pads on your temples.” He handed Una the hoop, making sure the cables didn't tangle in the other equipment.

She stared at the headset—if that's what it was. Lights glowed around the interior edge, forming runes. “I haven't even asked you my questions yet. Is this going to.. do something?”

“Nope!” Jay was already moving back towards his bank of displays. “Just confirming some readings I already took from you. I want to be sure I didn't miss anything.” Una stifled a retort. Sigma had already admitted that instruments in the loft had recorded various measurements about her magical signature and biochemical properties, whether or not she liked it. Apparently, it was part of his security apparatus.

Una settled the band on her forehead; two pads touched her temples, cool with some kind of gel. If he electrocutes me with these, or something, I swear I'll—

“So yes, context is a big deal. Nanomachines are engineered to only operate in one context, in this case your body.” He flipped a switch next to the displays, and a humming sound filled the room, then started writing words with a dry erase marker on the glass wall.

“Context… connects to duration, or impermanence, as you put it. These nanobots can't operate outside of you; after three months, they'll break down. As your roommate, I recommend taking a lot of nice long showers around then.” Una raised her eyebrows, but Jay just kept talking. “On top of that, they only operate on one power source. Which is…?”

Una nodded, remembering. “You're configuring them to use my own magical energy, right? I assume that's what this is for.” She tapped the headgear. “And I guess that means I have to power it all myself, just like if I need to fly or something. But wait, nanomachines construct and change molecules, right? If they have to stay inside me, where do they get the extra… material?”

“That's exactly why you're the perfect test case, my demonic houseguest.” Jay wrote “AETHERIC SIGNATURE: UNA” underneath the word “ENERGY LIMIT” on the glass, then connected it with a line to a large central circle with Una's name in it. He'd already written “3 MONTHS” under “TIME LIMIT” and “UNA'S BODY” under “CONTEXT LIMIT,” similarly connected.

He looked back at Una. “Did Susan explain how your wings work?”

Una grimaced. “She did, but I didn't understand it. Something about rotating an n-dimensional manifold?”

Jay tapped his pen on the glass. “Correct! At least, that's conjuration theory. What it means is that your powers already tap into a convenient extra-dimensional source of mass.” He wrote “MASS SOURCE: SHIFT-CONJURATION,” next to the energy limit.

“I'm getting the impression that all this nanotechnology is just going to… sit on top of what I can already do?” Una stood and began pacing. “It's limited to me, I'm powering it… and I assume I have to direct it as well, right? Because nanomachines shouldn’t, you know, be independent?”

Jay pointed the pen at Una, then wrote “AUTONOMY LIMIT” on the glass wall. “Correct. You are the only one who can tell them what to do. Which is just what we want, right?” He hopped to his feet and checked the cable leading to Una's headset, then tapped on a keyboard. Una felt a faint tingling at her temples. “How does that feel?” Jay asked. “No pain?”

Una shook her head. “Nope. But I still don't understand how—” A sudden flash emanated from the ring of symbols in front of Una's forehead, and her vision filled with light. “Shit! What was that?

As her eyes readjusted, she saw Jay grinning apologetically. “Sorry, had to make sure that worked. Look.” He pointed at a screen behind him, which showed an expanse of red with black strands on top.

Una squinted. “Is that my forehead? Why did you take a picture of my forehead?” As she watched, an answer revealed itself. In the image, the flesh of her brow rippled and puckered, forming a dark scar in an unusual shape. The symbol looked a bit like a treble clef from musical notation, if a treble clef grew branches and lace flourishes.

“What… is that?” She asked, but part of her trembled in recognition. It's like the sign on Kyber's forehead, except it's not his… it's mine. Or Yael's? I know it of old, this… sigil? Is that the word?

“A partial topographic manifestation of your aetheric signature,” said Jay. His voice quickened with excitement. “You have a unique magic fingerprint, something that only demons have. Well, and a few other kinds of spirits, apparently. But you can use that just like authentication! It's fascinating.”

Una nodded slowly, removing the headset. There was something delicate here, something not to be treated lightly. “I think I get what you're saying. That symbol works like a password that would keep anyone else from controlling the nanobots and… taking over my body, transforming me.” Given what she'd gone through in the past, her fear was justified and palpable.

“But wait,” she continued. “Couldn't someone, you know… crack the password? Someone like you?”

Jay gave her a look that suggested she was asking an uneducated question. “If anyone could manage that… well, you're looking at him. But even I don't know how to forge a symbol like that, and I wouldn't want to. Apparently there are… disturbing consequences?” He pursed his lips in a perplexed frown. “As for mundane hacking, you have no worries—it's not as if these nanobots have tiny receivers. They're too small… and that's exactly where magic is useful, breaking the laws of physics and all.”

“All right…” The succubus stood up, pacing along one side of the cluttered lab, and took a deep breath. “I guess that's a relief. Unless someone took over my mind, right? Then they could control the nanobots through me?”

“Sure,” said Jay. “It's not like nanomachines come with protection against mind control. From what Susan tells me, you've tangled with that kind of problem before. If someone takes over your brain or steers you around like a puppet, they could use your hand to punch yourself in the face, and that's probably more dangerous if you can make your knuckles grow six-inch claws.”

Una exhaled, suddenly realizing she'd been holding her breath through Jay's explanation. “All right, I understand what you're saying. But wait, will these bots let me grow claws?”

Jay's eyes twinkled beneath his russet locks. “That's the exciting part, roomie. I have no idea what you could accomplish. I'm just focused on making sure you're the only one who can control them—all secure and safe.” He tapped a few more keys, then adjusted a bracket on the surgical chair. “Now… I'm ready on this end. But before I permanently convert a bunch of very expensive nanomachinery to your personal signature, do you have any more questions?”

Una ran the back of her hand across her crimson forehead. Her demonic body rarely perspired, but now sweat beaded across her dark skin. “You've explained it all very well, and I trust your work, Jay…”

She spoke the truth; in the past week, Una had looked up articles and papers about the man's research. He had a reputation as a brilliant engineer, despite his eccentricities; from what she could glean as a layperson, Jay Sigma understood nanotechnology incredibly well. He had a solid reputation and seemed respected in academic and corporate circles alike—in part for the air of mystery he cultivated.

Una breathed in deeply and tried to steady herself. “It's just that I'd be letting you stick something unknown in my body—” She stopped, suddenly aware that her succubus side had spent millennia allowing all manner of invasions to her flesh, for power and pleasure alike. She felt a flush of shame at her fear of the little machines.

Jay raised his eyebrows, then caught her by the hand before she could turn away. “You want to know if you can trust me, of course. I could build a back door, insert a command that would do who knows what. Look at me, Una.”

He paused, and Una met his pale eyes. She realized his irises, though predominantly a slate blue, had a ring of bright amber around the pupil. Jay's gaze was intense, and she couldn't look away. “You've been a guest in my home for some time now. You know me, as much as I permit anyone to know me. But you're right, this is a level of… intimacy that goes beyond mere friendship.”

“And can I trust you?” Una asked. She swallowed.

Jay looked away for a moment, then back at her, his gaze intent. “I want to help. You don't have to let me do that. But if you do, I won't let any harm come to you. Not through this technology.” It was his turn to swallow. “And if you want… I'll join you. Inject myself with the same nanomachines. That would… let you control my form, too. In theory.”

“I see.” Una frowned. “Wait, what?”

Jay spun in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “I'm an explorer at heart. What can I say? A Dr. Jekyll type who likes to experiment on himself. But if it makes you feel better, you have the same option: I could modify a second batch of bots with your demonic key, and inject them into me. You could alter me. Does that appeal?” His face had a strange expression, but his voice sounded genuinely curious.

Una eyed the hacker curiously. He clearly has his own reasons for volunteering this… and I can guess what they are. But I've had quite enough of that recently, in life and dreams.

“No,” she said. “Let's conduct one experiment at a time, at least. I trust you, Jay.” On a whim, she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. I'll try the bots. I want to… pass as human, again. At least sometimes.”

Jay just grinned. “Then let's get you in the chair!” He gestured as if he was ushering her into a limousine.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Una found herself reclining in the adjustable seat, with straps and restraints securing her legs, arms, chest, and forehead. She felt vulnerable, unable to move except for wiggling her hooves and her tail, both of which twitched nervously. Four intravenous drips ran into veins in her arms and legs, prepared to deliver fluids and medication in response to Jay's programmed commands. Sensors and electrodes dotted her skin, connecting her to the systems monitoring her vital signs.

“This is not at all how I thought this evening would go,” Una commented. Pre-dawn light filtered into the laboratory through the frosted glass wall. The towel she'd wrapped herself in earlier still lay draped across her bare torso, but barely covered her; irritated, she flicked it away with a motion of her tail, leaving her scarlet flesh exposed and her nipples pert from the air conditioning.

“How you doing in there?” Jay's voice emerged from a wall-mounted speaker. The programmer now sat in his workshop, operating the equipment from a safe distance. Not terribly reassuring, thought Una. And no bedside manner at all.

“Nervous!” Una exclaimed. “Are we almost done with the preparations? This is a bit… overkill, isn't it?”

“Oh, the IVs, the restraints and sensors are all absolutely necessary, Una,” Jay responded. “You said you wanted things as safe as possible. I could just stick you with this…” A motor whirred, and a golden robotic arm moved forward with deliberate precision. It aimed a syringe with a wicked-looking needle towards the succubus' forearm, where Jay had raised a vein by expertly tying a rubber cord above her elbow. “…but I wanted to respect your concerns!”

The arm made another abrupt movement, and the needle approached the succubus' skin. “Wait!” Una gasped, her heart thudding in her chest. “Can we at least do a countdown? Or tell me that everything checks out?”

“Of course,” said Jay, and the needle retreated an inch. “Vitals look excellent… for a human, at least. I don't really have a good baseline for succubae. But looks like you're fine, just nervous.”

“No shit.” Una forced herself to relax. She shifted slightly, her thighs brushing together. Despite the situation, she couldn't help but feel arousal coursing through her, the adrenaline high making her body flush.

“Are you sexually active, Una? It's one question on this intake software suite, so I figured I should ask.” Jay's voice remained professionally calm, but Una could hear the smirking tone. Tell him to shove it, or play along?

“Well, I am a succubus. I've had sexual relations with three humans recently: two women and one man. As both the receptive and penetrating partner, in various combinations. Oh, and a demon… maybe?” She wrinkled her forehead, trying to remember.

“I was just kidding,” said Jay, but his voice cracked slightly.

“I know,” said Una. “All right, I'm as ready as I'm going to be.”

“The smallboys are ready too; check out that monitor to your left.” The screen displaying the little bots now revealed that each one now bore a glowing symbol, the same mysterious sigil that had appeared on Una's forehead. “Here we go.”

The robot arm glided forward. With a rush of sensation, Una felt the pressure of the needle against her skin. The tip pierced the red expanse of her skin, and she felt a brief jolt of pain, then the feeling of something sliding in. A single drop of her blood dribbled down her wrist, but it was over in seconds.

“Is that it?” she asked. Una blinked. She couldn't feel any difference yet.

“That's it. The nanos are on their way to integration. Now, give it a couple minutes and… ah!” Jay clapped his hands once. “There we go! Your physiological response is nominal, and it looks like the nanotech is absorbing into the affected cells just fine. Should take… oh, wow. They're moving quickly.”

Sweat beaded on Una's body, trickling between her breasts and running across her face. She'd expected any change to feel like a sudden prickling, or a gradual build of excitement. Instead, she felt a kind of deep, dull ache, like a bruise spreading from deep inside her. She shivered, gasping for breath.

“H-how long until… this is over?” The shelves and machines of the wet lab swam in her vision. Everything looked wrong, somehow, as if she were seeing it from a slightly different angle. Una heard a soft noise, like a sheet being snapped in the air. Something that looked like a wave of pinkish light rippled outwards from her.

“OK, I didn't expect this. It's happening a lot faster than I thought it could… I figured we'd have a burn-in time of twenty hours or more. But they're… hmm, they're already doing something. Keep breathing, Una.” Jay's voice was tight with tension, and the succubus glanced at a blinking display. Several boxes flashed red on the screen.

“What's—what's wrong, Jay?” Her voice came out as a rasping gasp. The ache spread through her limbs to her fingertips, and a burning sensation intensified around her horns and tail. “Fuck! It hurts!”

“Keep taking deep breaths, Una. Try to stay calm!” Jay's voice rose in volume as she struggled against the restraints. “Are you trying to—to transform right now? No… no, clearly you're not. But you have that block, the mental barrier reverting you to a standard…”

She could barely hear him through waves of nausea and pain. The floor of the wet lab seemed to tilt and sway, and the lights in the room grew brighter, glowing with a reddish-golden hue. Helpless in the grip of fear, her thoughts reeled back to the last time she’d transformed her against her will. Thomas Spencer. That horrible, matronly nun, Mary Elizabeth. Playing with her mind, giving her commands, reshaping her body into…

Una screamed. She thrashed in the chair, her vision fading in and out, and her sharp-nails clawed at the padded restraints. In the middle of the pain, she felt a sensation of powerful heat: a furnace in her core, a place of strength within. Whatever is happening, this is my body, the wellspring of my powers! I won’t let it be taken from me, or used by someone else, again!

“You motherfucker! Fuck you, Jay Sigma!” Everything blurred; she couldn't see, but she could curse and struggle. One hand ripped free of the chair's restraints. “I'm not letting you or anyone take me over! When I get out there I'm going to rip your—”

Her roar echoed in the tiled space, and the world went black.

She floated in nothingness, surrounded by a soothing silence. It was blissful to be free of the pain, to hang suspended in the airless void. Then the darkness shattered into fragments of light.

***

Images and sound swam into Una's vision. She was standing up. It was cold and… someone was yelling? She shook her head, trying to clear it.

“Anastasia Olegovna. Do you really believe this foolishness?” It was a man's voice, thick with an accent she couldn't place. His tone was mocking, incredulous.

“It's not foolishness,” she replied, with more force than she felt. “We need to seize control of the capitalists' assets, or none of us will ever have a chance. You know it's true.” She was speaking Russian, she realized. Two others sat with her, one balding and fat, the second slim and nervous.

“Ah, but the Bolshevik faction has been a thorn in our side for too long,” said the fat man, waving a cigar in the air. “The moderate socialist coalition has done more for the people than you can imagine.”

“Lies,” Una hissed. “They're nothing more than puppets for the rich and powerful. We need to stand up for ourselves and fight for our rights.” She gestured with a raised fist, and the fat man raised an eyebrow.

“And how are you going to do that, my dear? Your organization is made up of college students and radical intellectuals, with little actual power and no support from the masses.” The thin youth looked nervous as the fat man droned on. Una looked around the room with a quick glance: it was a spacious drawing room with bookcases lining the walls. A clock ticked softly on the mantle over a fireplace, and a samovar steamed quietly on a low table near Una's foot.

She saw herself reflected in a mirror hung over an elegant credenza: a petite, curvy woman with long black ringlets and an upturned nose. The woman wore a simple green dress, cut stylishly short, and black heels. She was a dainty doll of a girl, but her eyes burned with a fiery intensity. Her features looked terribly familiar. They were almost exactly Yael's, but fully disguised as a human, with a pale, rosy complexion and a subtly different facial structure. Anastasia Olegovna Volkhova… also known as Yael.

Una blinked. Yael? She felt confused; she was not the one talking, or glaring at this man, or thinking about her plans for him. A memory, she realized. One of Yael's guises from long ago, one we'd forgotten.

“Ideas can inspire the masses,” she said, her voice low and intense. “But desire can inspire our allies. I know what you want, Sergei Andreyevitch. Exactly.” She motioned to the slim man. “Pasha, are you ready?”

“Yes, Anya,” Pasha whispered, taking a step towards Una. “I… I always want to help you.”

She smiled, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “Good boy.” He shivered visibly as her hand brushed his face. “Sergei, what do you see?”

“I see a beautiful young woman,” he said, his eyes widening. “And a boy who's not yet a man. Are you trying to tell me you can—that you will—”

“Yes,” said Yael's guise, and reached out with her hand and her power, letting the energy of desire flow into her companion. The slim youth’s face flushed with excitement as his body changed, becoming rounded and soft. The memory dissolved.

***

It was a cool summer evening, and the scent of cherry blossoms filled the air as Una walked through the gardens of the imperial palace. She wore the finest silk robes, dyed a deep shade of red that shimmered in the moonlight, and the sleek, raven hair of her latest host body was woven into a delicate coif studded with shimmering jewels.

Her hearing was better than any mortal's. She could hear the other ladies-in-waiting talking about her as she passed. “…Yuki-no-Orihime has returned! Who does she think she is?” One whispered. “She's not fit to serve the emperor. Six months ago she was a bumpkin girl from the mountains, without proper manners,” another hissed. “She thinks she's better than us? Ha!”

“Ignore them, Yuki,” said her friend Izumi, a stunning woman with dark, piercing eyes and a mischievous smile. “You have no need for their approval. You have the favor of the emperor.”

Una sighed, wishing that was true. Yuki had indeed caught the eye of the emperor, but she knew not how to keep him interested. She was a powerful demon, but she had never had to seduce a human ruler before. She had little experience of the games of court, or what tricks and lies she would need to employ to keep her position.

“I will need your help, Ayame.” She reached out to cup her friend's face with one hand, tracing a finger across her lips. “Your beauty and intelligence are unmatched, and I am grateful for your friendship.”

Ayame blushed and looked away. “I am honored, Yuki, but I am not worthy of such praise.” She reached out to take Una's hand in hers, her touch soft and warm. “Still… perhaps I can teach you some secrets of courtly life. I could help you navigate the treacherous waters of the Imperial Court.” She winked at Una and then, to the demon's surprise, kissed her palm.

Una felt a spark of desire surge through her at the sensation of her friend's lips on her skin. She leaned forward to whisper in the woman's ear. “Perhaps you could show me tonight? In my chambers?”

***

“Out, into the gutters, trollops! It's no better than you lot deserve.” The National Guard officer shoved Una and her friend Odette through the gates of the Hôtel de Langeac, their former residence, and the home of the Marquis de Lafayette. The pair stumbled, clutching their meager possessions in their arms, as the emissary of the new government forced them out into the streets of Paris.

It had been a wild ride, staying at the Marquis's estate. After the Revolution, Lafayette had become a revolutionary hero, and his home became a refuge for women and children displaced by the chaos of the times. Lisette and Odette had stayed for months, safe from the violence and unrest that swept the city. The favor of the Marquis, of course, was in no small part due to the notorious charms of Lisette de Montaigne and her insatiable appetite for sex, adventure, and intrigue. But Lafayette's reluctance to take part in the revolution's excesses had landed him in the Bastille, and the Committee of Public Safety had seized his estate.

Una straightened, arranged her skirts, and caught sight of her reflection in one of the Hôtel's great glass windows. Coquettishly made up, with wide blue eyes and a cascade of chestnut curls falling across the swell of her ample bosom, Lisette de Montaigne looked like the epitome of the demimondaine, the beautiful fallen woman who had traded her virtue for a luxurious lifestyle.

“Come, Odette.” The younger girl clung to Una's arm, shaking, her blonde pigtails bobbing. “Don't cry, child. The world is ending, but we must carry on. Here, let me fix your bonnet.” Una gently wiped the tears from the girl's cheeks and adjusted the ribbon under her chin, then placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “There. Now, let's go find a place to stay. I have friends in the Palais-Royal. Perhaps they'll offer help. If they haven't lost their heads yet, that is.”

Una picked up her small trunk—she traveled light, as always—and took Odette by the hand. As they left the gates of the Hôtel, another officer of the guard stepped into their path. “Mademoiselle de Montaigne? Mademoiselle, the Committee wishes to speak to you regarding the events of the past weeks.” He addressed the brunette, but his gaze lingered on the blonde.

“I have nothing to say to you or your masters.” Una spat on his boots. “In fact, I was just leaving Paris.” The officer's face darkened, and he moved forward, but the voice of Lisette de Montaigne spoke three guttural words.

He froze in place, a slack-jawed expression on his face. Una pulled the stunned man into a shadowy doorway, opened her trunk, and reached into a secret compartment. She withdrew a knife with a silver blade. Una plunged the weapon into the man's chest, and the body stiffened and fell to the ground. Odette looked on in horror.

“All right, ma petite,” said the succubus, “Now we should run.”

***

The harsh light of the desert sun struck Una's eyes. She lifted a nut-brown hand to shade them, and saw the man standing in front of her, fixing her with his gaze. Bronze armor over a white tunic, a gash down one arm, and a short sword ready in his fist. The branches of the great oak, Zaanannim, swayed with languid motions in the strong, arid wind. She stepped into the tree's shade, watching him.

“Woman,” said the commander. “I told you once already, and I won't repeat myself a third time.” He motioned with the sword. “You will attend to me. Bring me food and drink. And prepare the bed.” She could see in his eyes the lust, the desire for control. But deeper down, the fear of battle, of the future, of death.

Una stretched luxuriously, showing off her taut belly, her slender arms. The linen wrap around her body only hinted at her curves, but she knew how to tease, to excite. To inflame. She knew these things because she was no longer simply Yael the Kenite, nomad and metalsmith, companion to Heber the shepherd—Heber, who was away for days. But Yael was no longer alone without a friend.

In her need, faced with this man of violence and lust, Yael had called to the desert. A wanderer had responded: a spirit of desire and freedom, of passion and power. And with this spirit came power, heat, and memories of many lives, of experiences, of joys and sorrows. That spirit is Yael now Yael, and I am she… we are together, and we will survive this night.

“Of course, my lord Sisera,” the woman-demon heard her voice say. Her gaze fell on the hammer she'd used that morning to fasten her tent to the dusty earth. She rubbed a sore spot at her hairline. “Please come inside.” Her smile widened, and her words emerged as a purr. “I'll make sure you're comfortable.”