Succubated!

They took the subway to Grand Army Plaza station and walked across the park towards their destination: the fetish club called SUBMISSION. If anyone recognized Michael as a man, or even suspected something wasn’t quite right about him, he didn’t notice. Despite their overcoats, they’d had some unwanted attention on the way, men who whistled or called out “hey, baby” to signal their interest. Each time, Susan acted as if she hadn’t noticed, but Michael blushed. I’m not used to this kind of attention, he thought. It’s not as though I’m enjoying it. But he felt a strange, dangerous thrill.

The entrance to SUBMISSION was nondescript from the outside. They descended a staircase into a basement of sorts—a large room where people were dancing to loud music and drinking cocktails. There was no signage anywhere, just a friendly, heavyset woman at the door checking ID and collecting an entrance fee.

Michael followed Susan inside, and then through the crowd until they reached a bar at the back of the room. Here, in the darkest corner, sat three women dressed like what Michael thought a dominatrix looked like: latex corsets and leather accessories, from jackets to cuffs, boots, harness, and a military-style hat.

Susan bowed to them. “Hello ladies,” she said. “This is my friend, Micki.” Michael glanced at her with surprise. They hadn’t discussed names, but at least Micki was close enough to his grade school nickname that he responded to it naturally. “Micki, this is Gabriella.”

Gabriella stood up—she was the tallest of the three; about five foot eleven with long, flowing red hair. She held out her hand for Michael to shake. “Nice to meet you,” she said. Her voice sounded deep, but her statuesque body was undeniably womanly. When he shook her hand, he noticed her nails were very long and sharp.

“This is Lady Gail,” said Susan, nodding to a willowy blonde with pink lipstick who was wearing the military officer’s hat. “And this is Mistress Kelli, the organizer of tonight’s party.” The brunette mistress of ceremonies also got to her feet and extended her hand.

Michael took it. “Nice to meet you all,” he said, suddenly aware that his own voice was deep and somewhat gravelly. Lady Gail looked surprised for a moment, but smiled knowingly. Gabriella leaned forward to whisper, “Girl! Who does your work? I cannot believe your hips and ass; I’ve never seen a sister look so convincing in the butt department!”

Michael laughed—it felt like the first time he had ever done so, as if laughing were an alien act. He tried to make eye contact with Susan, but she was saying something conspiratorially to Gail.

“Here,” said Gabriella. “Let me show you around.” She led Michael by the arm towards the nearby dance floor, where people were gyrating against each other. In the next room, he saw wooden racks and a large cross with a man tied to it; someone was addressing a group watching while holding up a nine-tailed whip.

Michael didn’t know how to behave, how to stand or walk in this situation, or what role to play. Should he dance? Flirt? Just let himself be… directed by whatever was going on? Or maybe he could try something else, take the initiative. He reached down and took hold of her wrist, gently; she stopped moving. “What are you doing?” she asked, smiling like a cat that’d caught the canary.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “This is my first time. Do you want to dance?”

Gabriella seemed to consider this for a moment. “Really? A body like yours, and you’ve never been out dancing? You are a strange little egg, aren’t you?” Michael was about to ask her what she meant, then realized she wasn’t simply talking about his body, but his identity… as a woman.

Gabriella must have sensed Michael’s confusion because she continued, “Look, come here. You’ll figure it out if you just let yourself go. Let’s see if we can get you moving.” She pulled him onto the dance floor and next to another woman, who immediately took him by the hand. Michael’s partner was lean and lithe, her small breasts encased in a rubber halter top, her head shaved and her eyes dark with makeup that made it look like she was crying black blood.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m Noctriss.” She touched his face with splayed fingers, as she danced; he flinched away from her touch. Gabriella laughed. Then Noctriss reached up to grab Michael by the neck, pulling him closer so their bodies pressed together.

Michael felt himself flush red with embarrassment at being handled by this stranger. As if reading his mind, Noctriss whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry baby, I won’t hurt you—not unless you want me to!” Michael wasn’t sure what she meant. Was this a proposition for sex? He could feel the heat of her breath on his neck.

He was sweating, even in the cold air of the basement, and wondered if he should push her off or pull her closer. In the end, he did neither: he simply stood there and let her dance at him, on him. Noctriss wound her way around Michael’s body and put a hand on each of his ass cheeks, stroking them up and down. Michael giggled nervously, but didn’t pull away.

“So,” asked Gabriella, “are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not really?” said Michael. “I just feel… awfully awkward.” He felt strangely nonplussed.

Gabriella looked confused for a moment before turning to Noctriss. “I think she might be… straight?!” She turned back to Michael. “No problem—we can find someone else who’ll have more fun with you than my little goth slut princess here! Noctriss, do you think she might…”

Mercifully, Susan appeared to rescue him from the tender ministrations of Gabriella and her friend. “They get carried away with newcomers sometimes,” she said. “I’m sorry… they really ought to make sure you want to be touched, or dance so close. Micki—don’t forget that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If there’s someone YOU want to talk to, dance with, play with… act on that desire!”

Michael shook his head; he wasn’t sure what was happening, but it didn’t seem like the sort of place where he should pursue… men. As much as the idea sent a shiver down his spine, it was nerve-wracking at the same time. There were a few men around, many of them accompanying other women, but he hadn’t been trying to spot potential dance partners, or anything like it.

“Susan,” he shouted over the noise of the music, “I’m not doing a wonderful job at, uh… succubating. Shouldn’t I be drawing everyone’s attention magnetically?”

Susan laughed. “Uh… have you looked around at how people ARE reacting to you?” Michael hadn’t—he’d been too busy trying to deal with Noctriss’ attentions and understand whether he felt any sexual attraction towards her or the other women on the dance floor. Now that he looked, and met some gazes, he noticed how many eyes followed him everywhere, even when they weren’t looking directly at him. They seemed entranced by his presence, watching him as if he was some sort of entertainment or spectacle. Suddenly, Michael felt naked—but also as if he wanted to put himself on display to take in more of that attention.

“You’re right,” he murmured, marveling. “They want me.” His voice sounded like a husky purr. “But what do I do with this?”

“Hmm,” considered Susan. “WWYD? What Would Yael Do? Probably like… use succubus radar to home in on the most intense desire or sexual energy in the room, or on the thing that SHE wants the most, whatever it might be. Maybe try that?”

“I don’t think I have… succubus powers,” said Michael. “I’m just a regular guy, at least on the inside.”

“Have you ever even tried using succubus powers?” asked Susan. “Maybe you can’t; maybe only she can. But—if you want to learn, then give it a shot!” She smiled encouragingly. “If nothing else, it’s a great way to find out about your potential! And Yael isn’t here to play any succubating games at your expense.”

Michael took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, trying to sound confident. “I’ll try it.” He closed his eyes and tried to imagine those gazes, as if they were sending laser beams around the room. He sensed something like, like a smell in the atmosphere. It was like an invisible fog, thick with lust.

The currents of desire floated through the room, connecting the partygoers to each other, in pairs or threes or sometimes more. When he opened his eyes again, he could still detect them. Dense strands connected Noctriss and Gabriella, but also had numerous fibers radiating outwards, linking them with others in the room or questing blindly. Suddenly, he felt he understood a little more about the couple; bonded to each other, but feeding that bond with others.

Michael felt a pull and turned his head. A man standing by the bar was looking at him. He caught his breath—a very handsome man: tall, with blonde hair streaked with darker brown, blue eyes and broad shoulders. He wore a black Henley-style shirt, ribbed, over leather pants. His skin was pale, his face clean shaven and with a hint of eyeliner. What had they once called that? Michael thought. Metrosexual?

Michael couldn’t help but notice the shape of the man’s ass as he turned, still maintaining eye contact. In that moment, Michael’s impulses kicked in. As if reaching out for the man’s attention, he thought: come to me. He mouthed the word “Hi.”

The man jerked as if lassoed around the hips, then walked over immediately. “Hi yourself,” he said. “You’re incredibly hot. What are you doing here?”

“I’m new,” said Michael. “This is my first time.”

The man smiled. “Me too! Or well, I haven’t been to one of these things since college.” He paused and then asked, “Do you want to dance?”

Michael nodded, shyly. I guess I’m a demure succubus, he thought. “Uh… what’s your name, if I can ask before we hit the dance floor?”

“Oh—my name’s Peter. Nice to meet you!” They shook hands; his grip was firm and confident. “So, tell me—what do you like? Do you prefer women or men? Are you here with anyone?”

Michael blushed. “I don’t know. Maybe both? Um… my friend’s here somewhere.”

Peter laughed. “That sounds great! I like both… sometimes in one person, if you know what I mean? What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Micki,” she said, and realized in that moment that she was thinking of herself as a woman, at least there and then, with Peter.

They danced together for several minutes. Micki had never felt so light on her feet. It wasn’t just the alcohol: it was all those sexual energies swirling around them. She could feel herself becoming aroused by being close to this stranger, a feeling like electricity snaking in between her thighs. Even though she’d never set eyes on Peter before that evening, she couldn’t help but feel drawn into the rhythm of their bodies moving together.

“I like you,” said Peter after they’d finished dancing and were sitting down again. “You’re not afraid to show how much you’re into someone; you don’t hold back. For someone who seems so… unsure of herself in some moments, you have intense sexual energy. It’s a sexy combination.”

Micki smiled. “Thanks—you’re not bad yourself.” They chatted for a while; Peter worked on Wall Street, but seemed to despise it, and consider the “oddballs of Brooklyn” more of his people. Micki said she did community organizing and service work for the homeless, which was true.

She leaned forward, conspiratorially. “Listen, I guess we’re both kind of new here… but if you want to get away from the crowd for a while and talk more privately, let me know?”

Peter looked surprised. “Oh yeah, sure, why not?” He shifted in his seat, rolling his muscular shoulders with clear physical interest. Inwardly, Micki blushed. When had she become so forward? She was practically propositioning him.

Micki took Peter by the hand and led him out of the bar towards the warren of rooms in the back of the basement, where people went for more privacy. She glimpsed Susan on the way and waved. The younger woman’s mouth opened in delighted surprise, her fist pumping. She began talking excitedly with Lady Gail again.

Once they were alone in a small room with a single folding chair under a dim light, Micki reached forward and unbuttoned the top of Peter’s shirt. He didn’t seem like he was going to stop her; instead, he helped by pulling the whole shirt off over his head. Their lips met in a kiss; he tasted of whiskey and cinnamon. They kissed for a moment, and Micki savored it. Such a long time since I’ve really kissed a man. High school? Then Micki pulled away to look at him.

“Wow,” she said, admiring his body. He had broad shoulders, toned arms, and narrow hips. His chest was well-defined and sculpted. “This is the first time I’ve seen a guy without a shirt on since… well, in a while.” Peter laughed. “Well, maybe you ought to return the favor!” His gaze roamed up and down her body.

Micki flushed as she felt herself growing aroused by his frank stare. She knew what was happening to her body, feeling it flush: it was like being possessed by Yael. Except this time, it wasn’t in dreams, not purely mental—it was physical, too. Her nipples hardened; her pussy grew wetter than ever before. She reached for Peter’s belt buckle and unfastened it. Then she unzipped his pants and slid them down his legs until they fell around his ankles.

Peter stepped out of them, revealing a pair of black boxer briefs that were already soaked with pre-cum around the head of his cock, clearly visible as a long bulge. Micki could smell the musky scent of his arousal intensely, dizzying her.

“You’re right,” she said. “I can’t let you be the only one stripping.” She stepped out of her heels and shed her clothes. The process was slow; she didn’t want to rush it or ruin the mood. When she stood in front of him, only wearing a lacy black tanga, he looked as if struck by lightning. “Oh!” he said. “I’m sorry, I thought… what I mean to say is, I thought you might be, you know…”

Micki laughed. “Trans? Oh no, Peter… you were hoping I was packing a dick in these shorts—weren’t you?” Peter blushed. “Well,” she continued, “you’re not exactly wrong about me being trans. But my cock’s gone the way of all flesh.” She paused and then added, “I’m also a succubus, in case that matters. Sort of… a succubus.”

“A demon!” exclaimed Peter. His cock twitched in his shorts, growing even bigger. “Are you going to suck me dry like the stories say succubae do?” He was still staring at her breasts; they were perky, round, and soft-looking. They weren’t as large as Yael’s, just large enough for one hand to cup comfortably.

“Not today,” she replied. “I really wouldn’t want that.” I’ve had nightmares about it, she thought. “If we have sex, it’ll be with your body intact.” He looked terrified and elated. “And your soul!” she added hastily.

“But Peter,” Micki beseeched, running her hands up and down her body. “Do you want this, or did you need a partner with a cock tonight?”

Peter shook his head. “I do like women who are… special in that way. But I’ve also wanted you since the moment I saw you. Please, don’t change your mind about me.”

Micki smiled. “Then come over here and fuck me, tiger.” She pulled him towards her. Their lips met again. As their tongues danced together, Peter reached out to touch her breasts. “Yes,” she cooed, “you can play with them if you want—but not too rough. Now take off my panties and let’s see what else you’ve been missing.”

Peter gently slid the panties down her legs until they fell around her ankles. Then he kneeled before her and kissed her thighs. When his tongue touched her pussy, she shuddered. He licked her from top to bottom. Hell’s bells, that feels good, she thought. “More!” she hissed. Peter kissed her mound more deeply than ever before, slipping his tongue in. Her clit ached, like a tiny throbbing cock between two folds of skin, but better than her cock had ever felt, so exquisitely sensitive!

He slipped a finger inside her, which she received gratefully, and then two. When he sucked on her clit, Micki suddenly came. She moaned loudly as she did so; then she cried out as a wave of pleasure hit her, and another. The power welled up in her, not at Yael’s insistence but through her own desire fulfilled. Suddenly her mind was racing, as if time had slowed. When she had changed before, her body had shifted and transformed in ways beyond her control. Now, she understood the power, and realized that for once, she could channel it.

Did she want to change? And if so, what did she want? Long, curly locks like Yael’s? The slender legs of a model? A petite nose? Without conscious direction, her lust-overwhelmed mind sifted the possibilities as particles of pure sexual desire teemed within her. Instead of choosing, selected a single change by instinct. A change driven not only by her desire, but by his.

Micki moaned in ecstasy and pain, clutching Peter’s head to her cunt. Something was pushing at the base of her spine, the bones of her coccyx twisting and popping, bifurcating, and growing. It felt like an erection, but somehow behind her, and more intense in how it engorged, bulged, demanded touch and stroke.

When she looked down between her legs, she saw a long, thick tail protruding from her ass. It flexed, twisted, and grew longer; the tip snaked around as she watched and ran up between her thighs and out through her pussy lips like an arrowhead, touching Peter’s tongue. Then it shuddered and flex again: its length was now twice what it had been before. Its length looked slightly slippery, and faintly ridged. Somehow, she knew she could wrap it around his legs, his cock, grab him with it. It was an extension of her will, but also had instincts of its own.

She smiled at Peter. “Now I can be an even better match for you.” He stared in shock at the tip of her tail, which bulged in a rounded arrowhead shape. “That’s my new tail,” she said, stroking it; it felt like velvet against her fingers. “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” She took hold of his cock and stroked it slowly with one hand. His eyes widened as he watched her tail-tip move—it was already swelling even further. How big and long was it going to get?

Micki brought Peter’s cock up to her mouth and sucked on it. At first, it seemed too big to encompass, but she soon got used to it. The bulbous tip of her tail throbbed in time with the rhythm of her sucking. Then the whole tail snaked around and probed Peter’s mouth. He let out a gasp when it brushed against his lips; then he kissed it back. Soon, they were sucking each other off like horny teenagers.

When they both came, their orgasms shuddered through them so intensely that it felt as if the room was shaking. Their bodies shuddered together as if electrified; they fell onto the floor and collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Peter ended up crouched over Micki, her face between his legs and his ass in the air. As she licked his cock clean, she felt her tail twitch and grow again. The tip of it pressed into the crack of his ass. Then it pushed forward—and plunged into him.

Peter cried out in pain. “What are you doing?” he gasped. “Aaah! Oh my god, are you…” He tried to pull away from her, but her tail was too strong: it held him firmly in place.

“Is this all right, lover?” Micki asked. “You wanted a girl who could fuck you, didn‘t you?”

“Yes,” Peter replied, panting. “Yes, please. How did you know?” A look of wonder crossed his face; he stared down at himself like he couldn’t believe what was happening. When he looked up again, his expression had changed to one of ecstasy. Micki smiled and continued to stroke his cock as she fucked him with her tail. She could feel the sensation in her own cunt growing stronger too, more powerful than ever before. It was as if all the nerve endings in her pussy and clit were also converging in her new sex organ, in her glorious tail.

“Tell me your deepest desire,” she moaned to Peter. Why was she asking him that? It was as if she had a nearly physical need to know. “Tell me what you really want. Is it love? Or release? Or change?” He stared at her, his eyes glazed over with lust—and something else. His cock grew even harder as he watched her pounding his ass. With each thrust, she felt as if a little more power was flowing into her, filling her up with energy.

When he spoke, it was barely a whisper. “Please make me into a woman,” he said. “Make me into the woman I’ve always dreamed of being.”

Micki’s eyes grew wide. She felt the power swell, guiding her, and closed her eyes again. She concentrated on her own pleasure and his, pushed him down, and mounted him, guiding his cock inside her. Their bodies slammed together; their hearts beat in time. He groaned loudly when she lowered herself upon his shaft, again and again. At some point she realized, in the back of her sex-clouded mind, that this was the first time she’d had a cock in her pussy. The first time, or perhaps the millionth; her succubus instincts were in control.

As they fucked, Micki could feel her tail thickening—and so did Peter. Soon he was screaming out loud: not just from pain, but from the sheer intensity of being milked into another orgasm. Her tail throbbed like a heart as it pumped in and out of him. She felt the inner hunger that was growing strangely familiar, and once again drew energy out of his body into herself.

When she had fed, Micki collapsed onto the floor next to Peter. They lay there for some time, panting. Then Peter cried out, his back arching.

“What’s wrong?” Micki asked, alarmed; then she saw what was happening. Peter twisted on the ground, his body shifting and changing. His skin was pale at first, then grew pink—then deepened into a burnished tan. When he opened his eyes, they were no longer blue, but brown.

He looked down at himself and gasped. “I’m changing!” he exclaimed. “Look! Look at my breasts!” Indeed, his chest was blossoming like a time-lapse photo, areolae expanding like pools of chocolate, flesh billowing and pushing out into mounds, then globes, full-fledged tits.

Peter cried out again as his hips widened, forming a narrow waistline that tightened further as his spine cracked and pushed his enlarged ass into the air. His hair, once short and blonde, grew out like a lion’s mane, thick and golden-brown. Between his legs, his cock shrank and disappeared; below, a vaginal mound rose and parted into lips. The new woman was as tall as Peter, but with slender, long limbs and a smaller, generously curved torso.

When Micki realized what she had done, she felt sick. She hadn’t meant to transform anyone—she’d only wanted to give him what he wanted, his desire. Now, after one act of lust consummated with her, a man had changed more fully than she had.

As she watched Peter grow more beautiful than ever, his features becoming elegant with an upturned nose and plush lips, she knew that somehow she too had changed. Her tail throbbed and slipped inside her own cunt, as if to comfort her; a strange sense of power flowed through her. This is how it feels to become a demon, she thought. The power overwhelms you, becomes you. But Yael isn’t here; am I the demon, the demoness Micki? It was an exhilarating feeling, bur beneath that feeling was terror and confusion.

When Peter stood up, his new body made Micki gasp in surprise. He was tall and hauntingly beautiful, with a face that was hard to forget: high and wide cheekbones over a defined jawline; the face of an actress, or a supermodel, with sun-kissed skin and sun-bleached hair. The new woman’s plump lips parted into a smile when he saw Micki staring at him. “How does it feel?” she asked. “Does it hurt? Does it feel good?” Peter ran his hands over his body, touching his proud breasts, his toned ass, his tight thighs.

“It feels perfect,” he said, in a soprano voice that rose and fell. He clutched at his throat, hearing that voice. “I can’t believe this—utterly amazing!” Then his expression clouded over. “But what about my old life? What about work? I have to… have to do something… about my life?” The new woman was looking confused.

“Of course, yeah. We’ll figure out something. But first, you need a name.” Micki grabbed hold of Peter, guided him—her—to a chair. “I have remade you into the image of your desire. Tell me what your name is now.”

Peter looked down at herself; still trembling with excitement. When she spoke again, her voice was husky with anticipation and pleasure. “My name is Maria.”