"Anyone care to make fucking sense of this?" SGT O'Bannon asked.
He said anyone, but Embedded Biologist Stewart Peter Bate knew he was looking at him for answers and no, Embedded Biologist Stewart Peter Bate did not have the slightest clue what this fucking was.
The xplo party was underground, mapping the extensive cave system that had been discovered close to Camp Jacob. They'd heard it got weird once you got deep.
This was... weird.
Bate looked out over a vast underground cavern. They didn't need to use their torches. The floor, walls and ceiling were covered in a phosphorescent mucilaginous liquid that bathed everything in a soft blue glow. Strange objects—sculptures? eggs?—covered the cavern floor as far as the eye could see. Each was a translucent blue ball with a naked woman sculpted from the same material sitting on top. The sculptures were all posed as though they were asleep or quietly contemplating some mysterious conundrum.
Like what the hell this was, Bate thought. This was a conundrum and then some.
From here he couldn't work out what the strange objects were made of. The big blue balls looked soft and gelatinous, as though they were made out of translucent jelly. They reminded Bate of eggs. Then there were the women—or rather statues of women, as they didn't move at all—sitting on top of the spheres. They were also blue and translucent, and extraordinarily detailed, as though they'd been spun from blue glass by a master artisan. If they'd been on Earth Bate would have thought the whole tableaux was an elaborate modern art installation.
Bate doubted SGT O'Bannon, the commanding officer of their party, was interested in the artistic aesthetics of the cavern.
"Are they safe?" the veteran military officer asked.
And how the hell am I supposed to know that? Bate thought.
"Can't know for certain until I know what they are," Bate answered.
They descended down to the cavern floor and stepped amongst the strange objects. The blue spheres, which looked moist and gelatinous, were deformed where the nude women sat on them. At a closer distance Bate marveled at how lifelike the statues were. He examined one. The woman's head was angled downwards, as if she'd been checking her phone before this strange transformation had overtook her.
Transformation. That was an uncomfortable path for his thoughts to follow. The glass—or whatever other material they were composed of—statues were so extraordinarily detailed it was easy to imagine they might have been living breathing people at some point.
In the corner of his eye Bate noticed one of the squad soldiers reaching out to cop a feel of the exposed breasts of one of the sculptures.
"I wouldn't do that," Bate said.
The soldier drew his hand back in mortified embarrassment, and also childish displeasure, as if he'd been prevented from doing something he knew he shouldn't, but wanted to do anyway.
"Don't you want to touch to see what they feel like?" he asked.
"Sure, but I keep thinking about that scene in Prometheus," Bate said. "I don't want to be the idiot biologist that spends the whole movie jumping at shadows and then tries to pet the killer alien snake thing for no goddamn reason at all."
"That film sucked," the soldier said.
"Word," Bate agreed.
"What is your opinion, Dr. Hurt," O'Bannon asked Bate.
"Mark it down and come back with a full research team," Bate answered. "Professor Holm will definitely be interested in seeing this."
"Sir, I can see the opening to another tunnel system on the other side," one of the soldiers informed O'Bannon.
O'Bannon followed where the soldier was pointing and his jaw clenched while he ran calculations on the optimal route to take to reach it.
"The quickest route is right through the middle. Risk assessment, Dr. Hurt?"
"I can't say for certain," Bate answered. "They seem to be inanimate, but I'd recommend not touching them."
O'Bannon nodded and then addressed the rest of the squad. "Okay, we're heading for the exit tunnel on the other side. Do not touch anything."
Privately, Bate thought the philosophy behind the xplo teams was a little too fast and loose. He understood the desire to map out H-space as swiftly and as efficiently as possible, but there was fast and there was reckless, and this seemed reckless. They knew next to nothing about the dangers of this alien dimension. Why the rush?
The xplo team moved out into the cavern, picking their way carefully between the strange sculptures. The cavern was eerily quiet, like the main hall of a solemn cathedral. The only sounds were their boots splashing through puddles on the rock floor. They reached the center of the cavern with nothing untoward happening and the mood lightened amongst the men.
Lightened too far...
It was PFC Scotty Skerritt who doomed the party. After cracking a couple of ribald jokes about the appearance of the lifelike blue statues, he noticed one that reminded him of a particular large-breasted porn star he'd fantasized about.
"Will you look at that pair. I swear she looks just like Vikki Vulva. I gotta get me a feel of those puppies."
He reached over and gave them a good grope. That answered Bate's question as to whether the statues were sculpted from glass or some kind of softer, jellylike material. He saw the breasts deform under Skerritt's fingers, just like yielding flesh.
He also saw they weren't statues.
The subject of Skerritt's groping lifted her head, opened her eyes and let out a strange ululating cry. Within moments every jelly girl in the cavern was awake and adding their own voice to the cacophony.
The noise cut right through Bate's eardrums and shifted through frequencies Bate wasn't even aware the human ear could hear. It left him totally disorientated. His sense of direction, his sense of up and down, came flying apart. Totally off balance, he fell right into the lap of one of the jelly girls.
"Hi there." The girl smiled brightly at him.
In regard to shape, she had a perfectly normal, albeit attractive, human face. Except her head was blue and translucent enough for Bate to be able to see through it. If he'd seen it on a TV screen he would have thought it clever CGI. In the flesh... how was it even possible?
The girl took advantage of his confusion to wrap her arms and legs around him and draw them both into the transparent jelly ball she was sitting on. Before Bate could recover his senses he was enveloped up to his neck. It felt like jelly as well—warm, soft, jelly. Not that soft, though. Bate's attempts to struggle back out of the ball were repulsed with elastic firmness. The blue girl ignored his attempts to struggle free and snuggled up close to him. The tight confines of the elastic blue sphere pressed their bodies close together.
"Let's get rid of those clothes," she said. "They irritate me."
The jelly walls wrapped around Bate exuded corrosive fluids that only affected his clothes. His uniform fell away in a mass of disintegrating threads and was excreted out through the wall of the globe.
"Flesh to flesh feels so much nicer, don't you think," the blue girl said.
She pressed up close enough for him to feel the curves of her breasts against his chest. He felt the gentle pressure of the jelly on his back and all around his limbs.
"What are you?" Bate asked.
"You can think of me as a sort of sentient trap," the strange blue girl answered. "I draw hunks inside my body and squeeze out all their yummy goodness."
"Squeeze?"
Bate had been terrified she was going to secrete acids to do the same to him as she'd done to his uniform. Now she'd given him something new to fear.
He tried again to move his arms and legs. It was like trying to move through thick molasses. He was trapped within the transparent blue ball like an insect stuck in a blob of amber.
"Yes, squeeze you. Just like that."
She directed Bate's attentions to a neighboring ball of jelly. It had a naked soldier, Skerritt, trapped within it. Unlike Bate, Skerritt was making a much more concerted effort to break free.
No, he was seeing it wrong, Bate realized. The way the blue girl thrashed against Skerritt... the grunts Skerritt was making...
They were fucking... loudly and vigorously fucking. The ball pulsed and stretched with their movements. Bate couldn't tell if it was driving or being driven by the movements of their frenzied coupling. Skerritt let out a loud groan and his whole body stiffened like a trembling board. A creamy white splash of liquid ran down a transparent tube that seemed to emerge from between the blue girl's shapely buttocks.
Was that Skerritt's semen? It couldn't be; there was so much of it.
The violent pulsations of the blue ball continued unabated. Skerritt's eyes were closed and his body was tense and trembling, as if he'd been taken to the peak of climax and wasn't ever coming down. More white fluids ran down the internal pipe and collected in a large chamber at the base of the sphere.
No, that couldn't be his semen. No one, not even the most virile could produce that quantity.
"He won't last long at that rate," Bate's blue jelly girl said. "Oh well, some prefer it fast and hard."
The same gooey restrictions holding Bate in place didn't apply to her. She placed hands on the side of his face and turned it to face hers. Her full lips pouted seductively.
"Do you prefer it fast and hard," she asked.
Down at his crotch he felt something—a soft, toothless maw—suck at the tip of his penis.
"Slow!" he said in panicked haste. "Really slow."
"How romantic," the blue jelly girl said. She kissed him on the lips, leaving a pleasant, fruity aftertaste.
Bate's penis was drawn into a soft, stretchy tube with thick, padded walls. He really hoped that was her vagina.
"I'll make it so we last the longest," she said. "Long and slow."
The ball grew pleasantly warm around Bate. It throbbed with slow pulsations. Each pulse pressed the gelatinous walls tight up against Bate's flesh so that it felt like he was receiving a sensual massage all over. The blue jelly girl moved her body against Bate to the same rhythm. Bate's penis did not remain limp for long. The elastic tunnel with padded walls squeezed and tugged on him with the same gentle rhythm and his cock responded to the stimulation without bothering to wait for his brain's approval.
"Relax," the blue jelly girl said. "I'll make you feel nice."
Bate didn't want to feel nice. He wanted to break free of the sticky clutch of this ball of jelly. He wanted to...
Ooh.
The cushioned jelly walls of her vagina gently pulsed against his cock and Bate's thoughts became fragmented.
What did he want?
The blue jelly girl moved against him in a slow sensual wave. Her jelly pressed all around him in an intimate massage. His cock slid back and forth within a cuff of plump jelly.
Yes, he wanted more of this.
"When the pressure builds up too much, let it out inside me," the blue jelly girl whispered to him. "You'll feel so much better."
The ball squeezed and Bate felt the pressure all over his body, gentle now but steadily increasing with each squeeze, becoming insistent. The same pressure was rising in Bate as well. He felt it in his loins—and a growing need to relieve, to release.
Another squeeze and Bate's hips were drawn down. His erection was sucked deeper into a moist, tight cuff of plump jelly.
"Let it out," the blue jelly girl whispered. "Empty it into me."
The cuff squeezed.
Bate couldn't hold it back any more. He let out a groan and his body stiffened as a powerful orgasm ripped through him. His cock throbbed within the tight jelly sheath and spurted a thick stream of semen down a pulsating jelly tunnel.
The blue jelly girl murmured her pleasures and kissed Bate on the lips. Her vagina matched the throbbing pulsations of Bate's cock and the additional stimulation drew out Bate's ejaculation as she milked him.
Finally the flow receded. Bate floated within her gelatinous body in a state of post-orgasmic bliss.
It was only a temporary respite to let him recover. The ball squeezed again. Bate's still-hard cock was tugged down and back into that internal cuff with the cushioned walls.
"Give me more," the blue jelly girl whispered. Her soft lips brushed against Bate's face. "Fill me up."
She squeezed and Bate grunted in surprise as she took him straight to orgasm. His whole body jangled in pleasure as he emptied another massive load of cum into her.
So soon and so much?
His head rested on her shoulder as she lovingly caressed his back. Through her transparent body he saw his semen pour down a pipe and collect in a chamber at her base.
So much. Surely he couldn't have produced that much.
And then she was squeezing again and Bate shuddered to irresistible pleasures as he felt yet another mighty ejaculation well up from within. He watched it pour down into a steadily growing reservoir of white fluid.
She was milking him. His semen was pouring into her like milk.
But how? Where was it all c—
She squeezed again and Bate's conscious thoughts were smothered in an overwhelming feeling of bliss. It was like she'd wrapped his mind up in the same warm jelly. Another surge of white liquid poured down the internal pipe. Bate no longer cared where it was coming from. He cared only for her next squeeze and the resulting pop of euphoric release it gave him.
"That's it, empty it all out," the blue jelly girl murmured.
She kissed him on the top of his head and milked him with slow gentle squeezes.
She kept to her word. Bate was the last to be completely emptied.
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 4
Yep, the posting schedule is still wildly inconsistent, but at least the story is moving along.
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Succubus Summoning 212, part 4
"...this is not the only purpose of the test."
Deprived of his daemonic familiar, Darvill went for his knife. At the same time, the succubus sitting opposite him tapped the tip of her tail on the floor and an esoteric circle surrounding his chair lit up with spectral white light. A circle of subdual Darvill realised just as he was slammed back down on the chair as if gravity had increased tenfold around him. These circles were usually used to detain troublesome warlocks and other practitioners of the dark arts.
To his left the succubus pressed the squirming poly-Oc down into her lap. She flexed her hips and let out a little erotic sigh as a swirling pink translucent globe swelled up and enveloped the squirming daemon. A change came over the daemon. Its eyestalks stopped thrashing about and it floated languidly within the globe of pink light.
The succubus turned cold black eyes to Darvill. "You need not worry about your little pet."
She pressed her hips up against the ball of energy and her heavy eyelids fluttered as she let out another erotic moan. The daemon within gave a little shudder of pleasure and its eyes blinked slowly.
The succubus smiled down at the daemon and stroked the sphere of pink light. "As you can see, they're totally happy within my little bubble of bliss."
"What is going on here?" Darvill demanded.
Had he been too cocky? Were they trying to scare him as punishment for showing off?
The succubus sitting in front of Darvill glanced up at her companion. The other succubus loosened her bodice and turned it down to expose the firm pink mounds of her tits. She plucked a long pink plume from the back of her costume and ran her fingers through the fronds as though she was unsheathing a sword.
"I do believe you challenged me to show you more," she said.
She stepped in front of Darvill and stroked the feather against her body in a slow, sensual dance that showcased her long lissom legs and the firm, inviting curves of her chest and ass to devastating effect. No human exotic dancer could come anywhere close. Even though Darvill knew this was part of a spell to mesmerise him, it was still a battle to keep his thoughts clear and unclouded.
She walked around the edge of the circle. She caressed the side of Darvill's cheek with the tip of the plume. His skin tingled where the feather brushed against him and he felt a creeping lassitude spread out from the point of contact.
He squirmed ineffectually against the force pinning him to the chair.
"This is pointless," he said. "It's not a test if she coerces me. There is no succumbing to temptation if she takes away my free will with her charm magic."
"Test is over," the succubus walking around him said. She tickled the back of his ear with the plume and the hairs on the back of Darvill's neck stood up as a pleasant tingle ran through them. "Now it's playtime."
"The warlock world is a dangerous one," the succubus sitting in front of him explained, "full of intrigue and deadly feuds. Our master gave us two tasks. The first is to prod novice warlocks down the correct path. The second is to identify novice warlocks who might one day grow into threats to our master's position."
"Identify and eliminate," the succubus circling him said. She tickled Darvill's nostrils with her plume and his nose was filled with exotic, soporific perfume.
"You are clever and ambitious," the sitting succubus said. "Given time you could develop into a warlock powerful enough to challenge our master and others of his cabal."
"Unless we chop you down now, while you're still weak." The other succubus stroked her plume against Darvill's crotch and he felt a throb in his loins that had nothing to do with his own desires. "Chop you down before you have a chance to grow into a more troublesome opponent."
Darvill felt vertiginous reeling fear. Not a test. Not a hazing. An execution.
And he was outclassed. Even had he not been trapped within the circle of subdual, this trio were far beyond his level.
He was also without his daemon. A glance to his left and he saw the third succubus had both hands on the pink globe in her lap. She writhed, flexed her hips and pressed her sex to it. Bubbles rose in the shimmering pink sphere and the poly-Oc trapped within gave a weak, blissed-out shiver.
Darvill attempted to recite the standard emergency dismissal every student was taught. Rather than taking flight from his tongue, the words flopped, soundless, and were absorbed by the energies of the circle.
Figured. There would be glyphs in the design that prevented the casting of any spells.
The standing succubus completed her circuit and stood before him again. Eyes smouldering with lustful fires, she stepped into the circle, pushed his legs apart and went down on her knees between them. She reached up, popped the buttons of his shirt and then slithered up against him. The soft fleshy mounds of her tits rubbed against his exposed chest. Wherever her skin came into contact with his it left behind a pleasant tingly sensation that left his skin craving more. She slithered up until her face was level with his.
"You don't have to be afraid," she whispered. "Succubi are the gentlest assassins. Our victims depart this plane in a haze of unparalleled sensual bliss."
She twisted in his lap and rubbed the swell of her ass against his crotch in a final lap dance. The wriggling pressure sent blood surging down into his cock and it rose up against the fabric of his underwear.
Darvill was not ready to depart this plane just yet, in a haze of bliss or otherwise. The circle prevented the casting of new magic, but Darvill still had the protective anti-lust wards he'd carved into his arms after following Rowling's succubi into hell. Their power had faded as his flesh had healed, but they were still there, waiting to be activated. All Darvill had to do was bend one finger back to his palm, and...
to be continued...
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Succubus Summoning 212, part 4
"...this is not the only purpose of the test."
Deprived of his daemonic familiar, Darvill went for his knife. At the same time, the succubus sitting opposite him tapped the tip of her tail on the floor and an esoteric circle surrounding his chair lit up with spectral white light. A circle of subdual Darvill realised just as he was slammed back down on the chair as if gravity had increased tenfold around him. These circles were usually used to detain troublesome warlocks and other practitioners of the dark arts.
To his left the succubus pressed the squirming poly-Oc down into her lap. She flexed her hips and let out a little erotic sigh as a swirling pink translucent globe swelled up and enveloped the squirming daemon. A change came over the daemon. Its eyestalks stopped thrashing about and it floated languidly within the globe of pink light.
The succubus turned cold black eyes to Darvill. "You need not worry about your little pet."
She pressed her hips up against the ball of energy and her heavy eyelids fluttered as she let out another erotic moan. The daemon within gave a little shudder of pleasure and its eyes blinked slowly.
The succubus smiled down at the daemon and stroked the sphere of pink light. "As you can see, they're totally happy within my little bubble of bliss."
"What is going on here?" Darvill demanded.
Had he been too cocky? Were they trying to scare him as punishment for showing off?
The succubus sitting in front of Darvill glanced up at her companion. The other succubus loosened her bodice and turned it down to expose the firm pink mounds of her tits. She plucked a long pink plume from the back of her costume and ran her fingers through the fronds as though she was unsheathing a sword.
"I do believe you challenged me to show you more," she said.
She stepped in front of Darvill and stroked the feather against her body in a slow, sensual dance that showcased her long lissom legs and the firm, inviting curves of her chest and ass to devastating effect. No human exotic dancer could come anywhere close. Even though Darvill knew this was part of a spell to mesmerise him, it was still a battle to keep his thoughts clear and unclouded.
She walked around the edge of the circle. She caressed the side of Darvill's cheek with the tip of the plume. His skin tingled where the feather brushed against him and he felt a creeping lassitude spread out from the point of contact.
He squirmed ineffectually against the force pinning him to the chair.
"This is pointless," he said. "It's not a test if she coerces me. There is no succumbing to temptation if she takes away my free will with her charm magic."
"Test is over," the succubus walking around him said. She tickled the back of his ear with the plume and the hairs on the back of Darvill's neck stood up as a pleasant tingle ran through them. "Now it's playtime."
"The warlock world is a dangerous one," the succubus sitting in front of him explained, "full of intrigue and deadly feuds. Our master gave us two tasks. The first is to prod novice warlocks down the correct path. The second is to identify novice warlocks who might one day grow into threats to our master's position."
"Identify and eliminate," the succubus circling him said. She tickled Darvill's nostrils with her plume and his nose was filled with exotic, soporific perfume.
"You are clever and ambitious," the sitting succubus said. "Given time you could develop into a warlock powerful enough to challenge our master and others of his cabal."
"Unless we chop you down now, while you're still weak." The other succubus stroked her plume against Darvill's crotch and he felt a throb in his loins that had nothing to do with his own desires. "Chop you down before you have a chance to grow into a more troublesome opponent."
Darvill felt vertiginous reeling fear. Not a test. Not a hazing. An execution.
And he was outclassed. Even had he not been trapped within the circle of subdual, this trio were far beyond his level.
He was also without his daemon. A glance to his left and he saw the third succubus had both hands on the pink globe in her lap. She writhed, flexed her hips and pressed her sex to it. Bubbles rose in the shimmering pink sphere and the poly-Oc trapped within gave a weak, blissed-out shiver.
Darvill attempted to recite the standard emergency dismissal every student was taught. Rather than taking flight from his tongue, the words flopped, soundless, and were absorbed by the energies of the circle.
Figured. There would be glyphs in the design that prevented the casting of any spells.
The standing succubus completed her circuit and stood before him again. Eyes smouldering with lustful fires, she stepped into the circle, pushed his legs apart and went down on her knees between them. She reached up, popped the buttons of his shirt and then slithered up against him. The soft fleshy mounds of her tits rubbed against his exposed chest. Wherever her skin came into contact with his it left behind a pleasant tingly sensation that left his skin craving more. She slithered up until her face was level with his.
"You don't have to be afraid," she whispered. "Succubi are the gentlest assassins. Our victims depart this plane in a haze of unparalleled sensual bliss."
She twisted in his lap and rubbed the swell of her ass against his crotch in a final lap dance. The wriggling pressure sent blood surging down into his cock and it rose up against the fabric of his underwear.
Darvill was not ready to depart this plane just yet, in a haze of bliss or otherwise. The circle prevented the casting of new magic, but Darvill still had the protective anti-lust wards he'd carved into his arms after following Rowling's succubi into hell. Their power had faded as his flesh had healed, but they were still there, waiting to be activated. All Darvill had to do was bend one finger back to his palm, and...
to be continued...
Friday, March 25, 2016
H-space MGB Profile: Succubus Cloud
Name: Succubus Cloud
Type: Succubus/Elemental [Air]
Habitat: Unknown
Description:
Appears as a dense white cloud with a human face and human arms and legs emerging from it. Her human features are described as being pale and unearthly beautiful.
After ingesting bodily fluids (blood or semen) the cloud becomes more opaque and appears wet or moist.
Attack Strategy:
Their primary targets are sleeping men or men on the verge of sleep. The succubus cloud drifts over them and breathes narcotic perfume into their face while whispering seductive words in their ear. Drugged into a state of pliant bliss, the man believes they are having a nice, erotic dream as the succubus cloud envelops them.
The succubus cloud is vampiric. After enveloping her victim she absorbs their blood through hundreds of tiny, painless puncture wounds that resemble insect bites. The blood is not taken for nourishment but to give the succubus cloud a more tangible form. By thickening and making the cloud more solid around the man she is able to give more erotic stimulation, eventually taking him to ejaculation.
As with other H-space indigenous organisms, the succubus cloud appears to feed on sexual fluids, or rather—as I suspect—some spark of energy (soul?) they can induce us to give out during the moment of sexual climax. (The similarities with the old succubus myths are worrisome.)
Absorbing the first release of semen triggers another change in the composition of the cloud—it coagulates still further and takes on a similar constitution to flesh. At this point she is able to induce continuous, unending ejaculation in the man wrapped up in her cloud. She keeps them in a state of insensate bliss while she drains all their fluids.
Countermeasures:
We have nothing.
Their bodies are as intangible as mist. Our physical weapons can't touch them. We also can't keep them out. Their gaseous forms allow them to penetrate our defences at will.
This is not acceptable. We need to be devoting resources to research ways—chemical, biological, radioactive—we can use to counteract the more exotic H-space inhabitants. At the moment they thankfully appear to be rare, but that's no guarantee we won't run into more of them in the future.
Threat Level:
High.
UPDATE: Since putting this file together other soldiers have come forward and contacted me with reports of possible succubus cloud encounters. They describe the experience as a vague but extremely pleasant erotic dream followed by an inexplicable feeling of weakness for most of the next day. Examination of their bodies has revealed the characteristic puncture wounds.
This deeply concerns me.
How frequently are these night-time attacks occurring? Why are these men spared when others are drained of all life?
I can't shake the feeling there is a purpose to this.
It concerns me... concerns me greatly.
Type: Succubus/Elemental [Air]
Habitat: Unknown
Description:
Appears as a dense white cloud with a human face and human arms and legs emerging from it. Her human features are described as being pale and unearthly beautiful.
After ingesting bodily fluids (blood or semen) the cloud becomes more opaque and appears wet or moist.
Attack Strategy:
Their primary targets are sleeping men or men on the verge of sleep. The succubus cloud drifts over them and breathes narcotic perfume into their face while whispering seductive words in their ear. Drugged into a state of pliant bliss, the man believes they are having a nice, erotic dream as the succubus cloud envelops them.
The succubus cloud is vampiric. After enveloping her victim she absorbs their blood through hundreds of tiny, painless puncture wounds that resemble insect bites. The blood is not taken for nourishment but to give the succubus cloud a more tangible form. By thickening and making the cloud more solid around the man she is able to give more erotic stimulation, eventually taking him to ejaculation.
As with other H-space indigenous organisms, the succubus cloud appears to feed on sexual fluids, or rather—as I suspect—some spark of energy (soul?) they can induce us to give out during the moment of sexual climax. (The similarities with the old succubus myths are worrisome.)
Absorbing the first release of semen triggers another change in the composition of the cloud—it coagulates still further and takes on a similar constitution to flesh. At this point she is able to induce continuous, unending ejaculation in the man wrapped up in her cloud. She keeps them in a state of insensate bliss while she drains all their fluids.
Countermeasures:
We have nothing.
Their bodies are as intangible as mist. Our physical weapons can't touch them. We also can't keep them out. Their gaseous forms allow them to penetrate our defences at will.
This is not acceptable. We need to be devoting resources to research ways—chemical, biological, radioactive—we can use to counteract the more exotic H-space inhabitants. At the moment they thankfully appear to be rare, but that's no guarantee we won't run into more of them in the future.
Threat Level:
High.
UPDATE: Since putting this file together other soldiers have come forward and contacted me with reports of possible succubus cloud encounters. They describe the experience as a vague but extremely pleasant erotic dream followed by an inexplicable feeling of weakness for most of the next day. Examination of their bodies has revealed the characteristic puncture wounds.
This deeply concerns me.
How frequently are these night-time attacks occurring? Why are these men spared when others are drained of all life?
I can't shake the feeling there is a purpose to this.
It concerns me... concerns me greatly.
Thursday, March 24, 2016
H-space MGB Story: Succubus Cloud
Major General Stewart Peter Bate was in that hinterland between sleep and wakefulness when the succubus cloud drifted into his tent. He took her for a dream. A nice dream.
Her gaseous form coalesced into a fluffy white cloud floating above his camp bed. A pale white face appeared in the midst of it. While clearly a beautiful face, with large, exotic eyes and delicate, high cheekbones, in some respects it was also a cruel face. The angles and contours of her elegant face were impossibly perfect, but also sharp. There was little warmth to her aside from a pair of sensual bee-stung lips that were as red as freshly-spilled blood.
Drowsily, Bate watched those luscious lips pucker up and exhale perfumed smoke into his face. That was nice. Smelt nice too. It reminded him of a fancy perfume a classy-looking lady had worn at one of the fancier functions he'd attended with the top brass. He never did get her name.
"This is a nice dream," Bate murmured sleepily.
The floating woman exhaled another cloud of perfumed smoke into his face.
"Yes, sleep," the succubus cloud said.
There was a strange echo to her voice, as though Bate was hearing her both through his ears and directly in his mind at the same time.
"I'll give you pleasant dreams."
Bate closed his eyes.
Wait, this was already a dream. How could he fall asleep if he was already asleep and dreaming? Was it possible to dream within a dream?
The succubus cloud gave an erotic sigh. She blew more air in his face.
"Delicious wet dreams." She spoke as though one of her hands—her fingers—were already in her sex.
Wet dream was about the right of it. They happened whenever a man spent too long away from home, hearth and wife.
Bate hadn't even been away that long. It was something about the air of H-space—some kind of taint that slithered down to a man's balls and made them itch.
Pale white hands emerged from the cloud floating above Bate. One hand caressed the side of his face. The other took hold of the top flap of his sleeping bag and peeled it aside.
Bate didn't mind. When a man was away from home and stationed out in desolate country, a nice erotic dream was one of the few pleasures open to him.
The succubus cloud blew on Bate's exposed chest. Her breath tickled through his chest hairs and kissed his nipples. Her face—and those luscious lips—moved down. Her warm breath filled and overflowed out of his navel. Her hands fondled first his chest and then his abs.
"So firm," the succubus cloud flattered.
That brought a smile to Bate's lips. He might be past his prime, but he knew he was still in good shape.
She peeled more of his sleeping bag away. She blew on his crotch and he felt the tickle of her breath through the fabric of his underwear. His manhood swelled up and made a miniature tent. The succubus hooked fingers beneath the elastic and freed Bate's erection. He let her. This was supposed to happen in erotic wet dreams.
The succubus cloud cooed her appreciation as his manhood rose up unfettered. She puckered those moist red lips again and blew. Her warm breath spilled down his erection and tickled through the hairs on his testicles like many tiny fingers. She blew again and Bate's cock danced for her. It twitched and bobbed through the stream of warm air like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn.
Her head moved back up Bate's body. He felt her breaths tickle his chest and neck like soft kisses. Legs emerged from the cloud and he felt her inner thighs squeeze and rub against his outer thighs. Her arms slid underneath him and her hands roamed all over his back. The rest of her didn't seem to be there. He felt air whisper against his skin, but nothing tangible—no breasts, no midriff, no sex.
The whispering breaths were all around him. His camp bed and sleeping bag fell away as he was lifted up. Now he was floating... floating in the center of a warm, fluffy cloud.
It didn't feel weird at all.
It was a dream.
Dreams were supposed to be weird.
"I will give you wet, delicious pleasures," the succubus cloud said, "but I need to take a little something from you first. It won't hurt at all."
Bate felt an odd prickly sensation all over his body. It felt a little bit like being bitten by a blood-sucking insect, but with none of the irritating itchiness that followed such bites. It was followed by an equally odd drawing sensation. Bate wasn't bothered. Floating up here in the cloud with a beautiful dream girl whispering sweet nothings to him, he didn't have a care in the world. It was like he was wrapped up in warm cotton wool.
The drifting cloud started to change color. A pink tinge permeated through the billowing smoke. At first it was a delicate coloration, reminiscent of candy floss, but then it darkened and took on a reddish hue. At the same time the constitution of the cloud thickened from fluffy and insubstantial to tangible and strangely wet looking.
"Are you relaxed and comfortable," the dream girl asked.
Bate nodded his head. He felt relaxed and floppy. Maybe a little too floppy... weak even. No, it was more like being cocooned in a big duvet and feeling so comfortable that you didn't want to move the slightest muscle.
On top of the weakness, Bate also felt a little lightheaded, giddy even. That wasn't bad either. It was like being in a bar with a beautiful woman after a few drinks.
"You gave me so much," the succubus cloud said. "Now let me reward you with sensual pleasures. Let's fuck."
"Yes, let's screw," Bate murmured dreamily.
After all, what was the point of an erotic dream if you didn't get a little wet and sticky.
Although, when he thought about it, the cloud he floated in was already starting to feel a little moist and tacky.
Then the succubus cloud began, and Bate stopped thinking about other things. His erection was drawn up and sheathed within a warm something. It felt like he'd entered a warm vagina and the sensation was so vivid it was like the dream had brought forth recollections of sex with his gorgeous wife. Except, Patricia, his lovely wife waiting for him back home, had never felt as tight as this, not even in their youthful days when both had been in the throes of young love.
Ohh.
And she'd never been able to do this.
As the wet sheath slid up and down it throbbed and pumped his member. The dream girl pouted and cooed her pleasure. Her hands caressed the side of Bate's face and stroked up and down his sides. Her thighs squeezed and rubbed against him. The throbbing sensations diffused out into the cloud until it felt as though the whole cocoon was pulsating around Bate.
Hunger and other lusts glittered in the dream girl's eyes.
"Release yourself into me," she hissed between glossy red lips.
The cloud pulsed and a wave of pressure stroked up Bate's erection. This dream was so intense. It was going all the way. It was going to be wet.
Bate closed his eyes and let out a moan of pleasure. His erection throbbed to the same rhythm as the cloud. A thick column of semen bubbled up his shaft and fountained up into the cloud, where it was absorbed.
The composition of the cloud changed again. The red tinge lightened back to pink, but the cloud appeared to be getting thicker, wetter and stickier. It clung to Bate's body like a sleeping bag made of flesh.
"More," her red lips whispered.
It felt like a soft wet sponge had engulfed Bate's cock. The sponge squeezed and Bate responded with another shuddering orgasm. Again? Or was this the same ejaculation? Did it even matter when emptying his balls out into the smothering sponge of the cloud felt so good?
Muscles twinged in his groin.
That mattered. He was no longer a young man and this might be a little too much exertion. What had brought on this dream? Why was it so intense?
The clouds enveloping him were no longer quite so fluffy. They glistened wetly—a mixture of pinks, reds and whites—and resembled organic things that pulsed in dark nooks and crannies out of reach of the light. Bate tried to move his limbs and encountered resistance.
His brow furrowed. Was this even a dream?
The succubus cloud bunched up her bee-stung lips and exhaled a cloud of pungent perfumed smoke into Bate's face.
"Relax. Sleep. Dream nice dreams while I empty you."
Bate's eyes closed. His thoughts spiraled down into a deep dream state. He was in a playground of ephemeral soap bubbles and deep, soft pillows. With him was a veritable harem of ripe, nubile and willing female flesh. Here was every female body he'd ever lusted after, secretly or otherwise. There was his wife—naked and in the prime of her youth; her friend Bate had never told her about; a girl he'd seen naked on a beach one time while he'd been stationed out in the Pacific; actresses and models that had pouted out at him from the cover of magazines; even porn stars from the blue movies Bate had watched after being stationed away from home for too long. All were here. All were his.
He lay back and let each take a turn to ride his mighty erection. They bounced on his prodigious length and girth until he'd filled their bellies with his seed. It didn't matter how many or how long. In this dream Bate was indefatigable. His manhood was an unyielding stone column; his balls were a bottomless reservoir.
As one girl after another rode him to ecstatic fireworks, Bate decided he had to be in heaven. This dream was so perfect he wished he never had to wake up from it.
The succubus cloud granted his wish.
* * * *
1st Lt Stewart Peter Bate was woken by a cry. He recognized it as a cry of passion and his sleep-fogged mind wondered who'd gotten lucky.
Then he remembered where he was and how there was no one here to get lucky with. His eyes flicked open and he hit full wakefulness.
He heard a thump, like someone falling over.
Was that the Major General's tent?
Bate left his own tent. H-space didn't really have a day-night cycle. Sometimes it was light, sometimes it was dark. Currently it was dark.
In the gloom Bate thought for a moment he saw something—a cloud of white smoke?—slither out from between the open flaps of the Major General's tent. He poked his head through the entrance and what he saw on the other side horrified him.
It was the Major General. At least Bate thought it was. The figure slumped on the camp bed was naked and so shriveled up he looked as though he had aged a century overnight. Black dots, like miniature tattoos, covered the body in a strange pattern.
No, it wasn't a body. Major General Tom McCarrell was still alive.
Clouded-over eyes opened and stared up at a scene only McCarrell could see. Bloodless, withered lips turned up in a senile smile.
"Next," the Major General chuckled in a voice that sounded like wind through a dry old tunnel.
The voice became a sigh and then finally a rattle as McCarrell's eyes rolled up, his body shuddered and then was still. A little bead of milky-white fluid welled up from the tip of McCarrell's exposed and erect penis.
So that's how they got the Major General.
Her gaseous form coalesced into a fluffy white cloud floating above his camp bed. A pale white face appeared in the midst of it. While clearly a beautiful face, with large, exotic eyes and delicate, high cheekbones, in some respects it was also a cruel face. The angles and contours of her elegant face were impossibly perfect, but also sharp. There was little warmth to her aside from a pair of sensual bee-stung lips that were as red as freshly-spilled blood.
Drowsily, Bate watched those luscious lips pucker up and exhale perfumed smoke into his face. That was nice. Smelt nice too. It reminded him of a fancy perfume a classy-looking lady had worn at one of the fancier functions he'd attended with the top brass. He never did get her name.
"This is a nice dream," Bate murmured sleepily.
The floating woman exhaled another cloud of perfumed smoke into his face.
"Yes, sleep," the succubus cloud said.
There was a strange echo to her voice, as though Bate was hearing her both through his ears and directly in his mind at the same time.
"I'll give you pleasant dreams."
Bate closed his eyes.
Wait, this was already a dream. How could he fall asleep if he was already asleep and dreaming? Was it possible to dream within a dream?
The succubus cloud gave an erotic sigh. She blew more air in his face.
"Delicious wet dreams." She spoke as though one of her hands—her fingers—were already in her sex.
Wet dream was about the right of it. They happened whenever a man spent too long away from home, hearth and wife.
Bate hadn't even been away that long. It was something about the air of H-space—some kind of taint that slithered down to a man's balls and made them itch.
Pale white hands emerged from the cloud floating above Bate. One hand caressed the side of his face. The other took hold of the top flap of his sleeping bag and peeled it aside.
Bate didn't mind. When a man was away from home and stationed out in desolate country, a nice erotic dream was one of the few pleasures open to him.
The succubus cloud blew on Bate's exposed chest. Her breath tickled through his chest hairs and kissed his nipples. Her face—and those luscious lips—moved down. Her warm breath filled and overflowed out of his navel. Her hands fondled first his chest and then his abs.
"So firm," the succubus cloud flattered.
That brought a smile to Bate's lips. He might be past his prime, but he knew he was still in good shape.
She peeled more of his sleeping bag away. She blew on his crotch and he felt the tickle of her breath through the fabric of his underwear. His manhood swelled up and made a miniature tent. The succubus hooked fingers beneath the elastic and freed Bate's erection. He let her. This was supposed to happen in erotic wet dreams.
The succubus cloud cooed her appreciation as his manhood rose up unfettered. She puckered those moist red lips again and blew. Her warm breath spilled down his erection and tickled through the hairs on his testicles like many tiny fingers. She blew again and Bate's cock danced for her. It twitched and bobbed through the stream of warm air like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn.
Her head moved back up Bate's body. He felt her breaths tickle his chest and neck like soft kisses. Legs emerged from the cloud and he felt her inner thighs squeeze and rub against his outer thighs. Her arms slid underneath him and her hands roamed all over his back. The rest of her didn't seem to be there. He felt air whisper against his skin, but nothing tangible—no breasts, no midriff, no sex.
The whispering breaths were all around him. His camp bed and sleeping bag fell away as he was lifted up. Now he was floating... floating in the center of a warm, fluffy cloud.
It didn't feel weird at all.
It was a dream.
Dreams were supposed to be weird.
"I will give you wet, delicious pleasures," the succubus cloud said, "but I need to take a little something from you first. It won't hurt at all."
Bate felt an odd prickly sensation all over his body. It felt a little bit like being bitten by a blood-sucking insect, but with none of the irritating itchiness that followed such bites. It was followed by an equally odd drawing sensation. Bate wasn't bothered. Floating up here in the cloud with a beautiful dream girl whispering sweet nothings to him, he didn't have a care in the world. It was like he was wrapped up in warm cotton wool.
The drifting cloud started to change color. A pink tinge permeated through the billowing smoke. At first it was a delicate coloration, reminiscent of candy floss, but then it darkened and took on a reddish hue. At the same time the constitution of the cloud thickened from fluffy and insubstantial to tangible and strangely wet looking.
"Are you relaxed and comfortable," the dream girl asked.
Bate nodded his head. He felt relaxed and floppy. Maybe a little too floppy... weak even. No, it was more like being cocooned in a big duvet and feeling so comfortable that you didn't want to move the slightest muscle.
On top of the weakness, Bate also felt a little lightheaded, giddy even. That wasn't bad either. It was like being in a bar with a beautiful woman after a few drinks.
"You gave me so much," the succubus cloud said. "Now let me reward you with sensual pleasures. Let's fuck."
"Yes, let's screw," Bate murmured dreamily.
After all, what was the point of an erotic dream if you didn't get a little wet and sticky.
Although, when he thought about it, the cloud he floated in was already starting to feel a little moist and tacky.
Then the succubus cloud began, and Bate stopped thinking about other things. His erection was drawn up and sheathed within a warm something. It felt like he'd entered a warm vagina and the sensation was so vivid it was like the dream had brought forth recollections of sex with his gorgeous wife. Except, Patricia, his lovely wife waiting for him back home, had never felt as tight as this, not even in their youthful days when both had been in the throes of young love.
Ohh.
And she'd never been able to do this.
As the wet sheath slid up and down it throbbed and pumped his member. The dream girl pouted and cooed her pleasure. Her hands caressed the side of Bate's face and stroked up and down his sides. Her thighs squeezed and rubbed against him. The throbbing sensations diffused out into the cloud until it felt as though the whole cocoon was pulsating around Bate.
Hunger and other lusts glittered in the dream girl's eyes.
"Release yourself into me," she hissed between glossy red lips.
The cloud pulsed and a wave of pressure stroked up Bate's erection. This dream was so intense. It was going all the way. It was going to be wet.
Bate closed his eyes and let out a moan of pleasure. His erection throbbed to the same rhythm as the cloud. A thick column of semen bubbled up his shaft and fountained up into the cloud, where it was absorbed.
The composition of the cloud changed again. The red tinge lightened back to pink, but the cloud appeared to be getting thicker, wetter and stickier. It clung to Bate's body like a sleeping bag made of flesh.
"More," her red lips whispered.
It felt like a soft wet sponge had engulfed Bate's cock. The sponge squeezed and Bate responded with another shuddering orgasm. Again? Or was this the same ejaculation? Did it even matter when emptying his balls out into the smothering sponge of the cloud felt so good?
Muscles twinged in his groin.
That mattered. He was no longer a young man and this might be a little too much exertion. What had brought on this dream? Why was it so intense?
The clouds enveloping him were no longer quite so fluffy. They glistened wetly—a mixture of pinks, reds and whites—and resembled organic things that pulsed in dark nooks and crannies out of reach of the light. Bate tried to move his limbs and encountered resistance.
His brow furrowed. Was this even a dream?
The succubus cloud bunched up her bee-stung lips and exhaled a cloud of pungent perfumed smoke into Bate's face.
"Relax. Sleep. Dream nice dreams while I empty you."
Bate's eyes closed. His thoughts spiraled down into a deep dream state. He was in a playground of ephemeral soap bubbles and deep, soft pillows. With him was a veritable harem of ripe, nubile and willing female flesh. Here was every female body he'd ever lusted after, secretly or otherwise. There was his wife—naked and in the prime of her youth; her friend Bate had never told her about; a girl he'd seen naked on a beach one time while he'd been stationed out in the Pacific; actresses and models that had pouted out at him from the cover of magazines; even porn stars from the blue movies Bate had watched after being stationed away from home for too long. All were here. All were his.
He lay back and let each take a turn to ride his mighty erection. They bounced on his prodigious length and girth until he'd filled their bellies with his seed. It didn't matter how many or how long. In this dream Bate was indefatigable. His manhood was an unyielding stone column; his balls were a bottomless reservoir.
As one girl after another rode him to ecstatic fireworks, Bate decided he had to be in heaven. This dream was so perfect he wished he never had to wake up from it.
The succubus cloud granted his wish.
* * * *
1st Lt Stewart Peter Bate was woken by a cry. He recognized it as a cry of passion and his sleep-fogged mind wondered who'd gotten lucky.
Then he remembered where he was and how there was no one here to get lucky with. His eyes flicked open and he hit full wakefulness.
He heard a thump, like someone falling over.
Was that the Major General's tent?
Bate left his own tent. H-space didn't really have a day-night cycle. Sometimes it was light, sometimes it was dark. Currently it was dark.
In the gloom Bate thought for a moment he saw something—a cloud of white smoke?—slither out from between the open flaps of the Major General's tent. He poked his head through the entrance and what he saw on the other side horrified him.
It was the Major General. At least Bate thought it was. The figure slumped on the camp bed was naked and so shriveled up he looked as though he had aged a century overnight. Black dots, like miniature tattoos, covered the body in a strange pattern.
No, it wasn't a body. Major General Tom McCarrell was still alive.
Clouded-over eyes opened and stared up at a scene only McCarrell could see. Bloodless, withered lips turned up in a senile smile.
"Next," the Major General chuckled in a voice that sounded like wind through a dry old tunnel.
The voice became a sigh and then finally a rattle as McCarrell's eyes rolled up, his body shuddered and then was still. A little bead of milky-white fluid welled up from the tip of McCarrell's exposed and erect penis.
So that's how they got the Major General.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 3
A slight delay this week. I always knew this chapter would be a nightmare to write because of the various bits of background being revealed. Making this a weekly serial has finally got the overall series moving again, but expect the weekly updates to slide around a little.
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2
Succubus Summoning 212, part 3
As the succubus sitting down in front of Darvill asked the question, the other one standing at her shoulder ran her tongue around her luscious red lips. Her glittering black eyes were fixed on Darvill as she inserted a finger in her mouth and sucked. The finger, moist with her saliva, went down to the shadows between her legs.
"You don't need to do that," Darvill said. "I know what's going on here."
The lead succubus arched a pencil-thin eyebrow. "Really? And what do you think you know?"
Darvill glanced at the standing succubus. "I know she's trying to tempt me. I also know she's not using the full extent of her succubus abilities. And I also know why."
The two succubi shared a glance. "Do tell," the lead succubus said.
"There are seven circles of hell, each corresponding to a frailty of human nature, otherwise known as a sin. When a warlock successfully contracts with their first daemon they align themselves with the circle the daemon comes from. Beginning warlocks mistakenly believe this circle represents their strengths. It doesn't. It represents their weakness."
"Go on," the succubus sitting opposite said, her face a perfect unreadable mask.
"The first daemon does not come to us out of desire to serve or be our familiar, it comes—drawn by the vulnerabilities it senses in our character—to take our soul. That is what daemons desire—souls. They serve us because it gives them opportunities to harvest souls from the earthly realm, a plane they cannot otherwise reach, but only if we prove ourselves to be sufficiently strong of mind and discipline. A weak warlock is of limited benefit to a daemon.
"The first challenge every would-be warlock faces is to prove themselves to their daemon. They must demonstrate they have the strength of will to overcome their baser desires. And it is not just the one circle, they must show they are able to resist the temptations of all seven. Only then will their daemon see them as a potential future master rather than a soul to be claimed. Only then can the warlock open the way to mastery of the dark arts.
"Which brings us to you," Darvill said to the two succubi in front of him. "You are succubi, representatives of the Circle of Lust. Not only are you here to confirm we understand the true nature of the bond between us and our daemon, Magus Stine has also engaged you to test we are able to resist the temptations of the flesh."
Darvill hadn't finished. He slotted together the final piece.
"From your costume and your pink plumes I can deduce you are Bedmistresses from the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures, a powerful order devoted to the mastery of the arts of seduction, manipulation and sensual ecstasy. If you were to draw upon your full repertoire of succubus charm abilities I doubt any student would be able to resist them.
"However, you won't and the reason you won't use the full range of your considerable talents is because the test must be fair. If the student succumbs, it must because of their own flaws rather than the overwhelming temptation of a daemon far beyond their level."
Darvill turned his gaze to the succubus standing at the shoulder of the lead succubus.
"I imagine being restricted to using only a small fraction of your considerable seductive appeal must be incredibly vexing. You have my sympathies," he said.
"I can show you more," the succubus replied. "A lot more."
"Maybe later," Darvill smiled. "After we've established some proper ground rules."
And a cast-iron safeword, he thought to himself.
He turned his attention back to the others.
"So, as much as I'd like to see the three of you put on a sexy show for me, we all know it would be a waste of your time and mine."
He gave them all a rakish smile. Now that was how you ace a test.
"Very impressive," the sitting succubus said. "Even seventh year students don't always attain this level of understanding. Some warlocks never learn it."
"This one is cocky," the succubus standing at her shoulder said.
"I prefer to think of it as being confident in my own abilities," Darvill said.
"This one could go far," the first succubus said. "Maybe very far indeed."
"I hope so," Darvill said, "Although I'm aware there's still much for me to learn and walking the path will require plenty of discipline and hard work."
He affectionately ruffled the eyestalks of Calli-Scitu-Oc perched on his shoulder.
"You are partially correct on what this test is about," the first succubus said. "It reflects poorly on my master if few of his students survive to become full-fledged warlocks, and there have been an unacceptable number of losses in the last few weeks. However..."
Her black eyes glittered malevolently in the midst of her otherwise heart-achingly beautiful face.
Before Darvill could react, the succubus on his left leaned forward and snatched Calli-Scitu-Oc off his shoulder.
"...this is not the only purpose of the test."
to be continued...
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2
Succubus Summoning 212, part 3
As the succubus sitting down in front of Darvill asked the question, the other one standing at her shoulder ran her tongue around her luscious red lips. Her glittering black eyes were fixed on Darvill as she inserted a finger in her mouth and sucked. The finger, moist with her saliva, went down to the shadows between her legs.
"You don't need to do that," Darvill said. "I know what's going on here."
The lead succubus arched a pencil-thin eyebrow. "Really? And what do you think you know?"
Darvill glanced at the standing succubus. "I know she's trying to tempt me. I also know she's not using the full extent of her succubus abilities. And I also know why."
The two succubi shared a glance. "Do tell," the lead succubus said.
"There are seven circles of hell, each corresponding to a frailty of human nature, otherwise known as a sin. When a warlock successfully contracts with their first daemon they align themselves with the circle the daemon comes from. Beginning warlocks mistakenly believe this circle represents their strengths. It doesn't. It represents their weakness."
"Go on," the succubus sitting opposite said, her face a perfect unreadable mask.
"The first daemon does not come to us out of desire to serve or be our familiar, it comes—drawn by the vulnerabilities it senses in our character—to take our soul. That is what daemons desire—souls. They serve us because it gives them opportunities to harvest souls from the earthly realm, a plane they cannot otherwise reach, but only if we prove ourselves to be sufficiently strong of mind and discipline. A weak warlock is of limited benefit to a daemon.
"The first challenge every would-be warlock faces is to prove themselves to their daemon. They must demonstrate they have the strength of will to overcome their baser desires. And it is not just the one circle, they must show they are able to resist the temptations of all seven. Only then will their daemon see them as a potential future master rather than a soul to be claimed. Only then can the warlock open the way to mastery of the dark arts.
"Which brings us to you," Darvill said to the two succubi in front of him. "You are succubi, representatives of the Circle of Lust. Not only are you here to confirm we understand the true nature of the bond between us and our daemon, Magus Stine has also engaged you to test we are able to resist the temptations of the flesh."
Darvill hadn't finished. He slotted together the final piece.
"From your costume and your pink plumes I can deduce you are Bedmistresses from the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures, a powerful order devoted to the mastery of the arts of seduction, manipulation and sensual ecstasy. If you were to draw upon your full repertoire of succubus charm abilities I doubt any student would be able to resist them.
"However, you won't and the reason you won't use the full range of your considerable talents is because the test must be fair. If the student succumbs, it must because of their own flaws rather than the overwhelming temptation of a daemon far beyond their level."
Darvill turned his gaze to the succubus standing at the shoulder of the lead succubus.
"I imagine being restricted to using only a small fraction of your considerable seductive appeal must be incredibly vexing. You have my sympathies," he said.
"I can show you more," the succubus replied. "A lot more."
"Maybe later," Darvill smiled. "After we've established some proper ground rules."
And a cast-iron safeword, he thought to himself.
He turned his attention back to the others.
"So, as much as I'd like to see the three of you put on a sexy show for me, we all know it would be a waste of your time and mine."
He gave them all a rakish smile. Now that was how you ace a test.
"Very impressive," the sitting succubus said. "Even seventh year students don't always attain this level of understanding. Some warlocks never learn it."
"This one is cocky," the succubus standing at her shoulder said.
"I prefer to think of it as being confident in my own abilities," Darvill said.
"This one could go far," the first succubus said. "Maybe very far indeed."
"I hope so," Darvill said, "Although I'm aware there's still much for me to learn and walking the path will require plenty of discipline and hard work."
He affectionately ruffled the eyestalks of Calli-Scitu-Oc perched on his shoulder.
"You are partially correct on what this test is about," the first succubus said. "It reflects poorly on my master if few of his students survive to become full-fledged warlocks, and there have been an unacceptable number of losses in the last few weeks. However..."
Her black eyes glittered malevolently in the midst of her otherwise heart-achingly beautiful face.
Before Darvill could react, the succubus on his left leaned forward and snatched Calli-Scitu-Oc off his shoulder.
"...this is not the only purpose of the test."
to be continued...
Friday, March 18, 2016
H-space MGB Profile: Anophelena
Name: Anophelena (cn: Mosquito Girl)
Type: Insect
Habitat: Swamp. Marshland.
Description:
Looks like an attractive human woman crossed with a giant mosquito. This hybridisation manifests as the presence of antennae, wings, a long cylindrical abdomen extending from their rump, and an additional pair of arms. Unlike the primary pair, the secondary pair of arms are not recognisably human, being spindly, black and closer in appearance to an insect limb, albeit on a considerably larger scale.
Despite being human-sized, their wings are capable of generating enough lift to enable them to fly. As with Earth mosquitos, they possess a comb like organ that rubs against the wings to generate a constant buzzing sound. At high volume these sounds have a disorienting effect on most humans. At low volume the anophelena are able to shape these sounds into a facsimile of human speech in order to communicate with us. Without this they would not be able to talk at all as their mouths, despite outwardly appearing human, hide a long retractable proboscis the anophelena uses to feed with.
Attack Strategy:
Anophelena are fragile and not evolved for direct combat. Their wings give them some manoeuvrability, but they are not particularly fast fliers, preferring instead to skim close to the ground. Their preferred strategy is to use the loud buzzing of their wings to disorient their target while they sneak up on them. Once close enough, the anophelena jabs her proboscis into the target's flesh and injects a strong narcotic to render them unconscious.
The anophelena then carries her prey off to a safe location and ties them down so she can feed unhindered and at her leisure. She can feed on blood, but for some reason, as with other H-space indigenous organisms, they prefer to get their prey aroused sexually and drink their sexual fluids. In this case the anophelena inserts her proboscis into the urethra of her captive and sucks out semen directly from the base of the penis. This urethral insertion combined with the suction of her proboscis triggers a strong, continuous ejaculatory response in most males.
While their captive is helplessly climaxing, the anophelena starts to suck up her captive's other bodily fluids. She has multiple sacs in her breasts and abdomen to contain her victim's fluids and they are capable of generating enough suction to empty a full-grown man of all his fluids in a very short space of time.
Countermeasures:
Ear plugs are unfortunately not as effective at cutting out the anophelena's disorienting buzzing as would be hoped as the vibrations are transmitted directly through the skull. While anophelena are extremely manoeuvrable, especially in the difficult, marshy terrain they're often encountered in, they're also fragile, with the wings a weak point.
If forced to engage in close combat be wary of the anophelena's proboscis. The narcotic it injects is potent and will induce unconsciousness within moments of entering the bloodstream.
Threat Level:
Low, unless encountered as part of a larger swarm.
Type: Insect
Habitat: Swamp. Marshland.
Description:
Looks like an attractive human woman crossed with a giant mosquito. This hybridisation manifests as the presence of antennae, wings, a long cylindrical abdomen extending from their rump, and an additional pair of arms. Unlike the primary pair, the secondary pair of arms are not recognisably human, being spindly, black and closer in appearance to an insect limb, albeit on a considerably larger scale.
Despite being human-sized, their wings are capable of generating enough lift to enable them to fly. As with Earth mosquitos, they possess a comb like organ that rubs against the wings to generate a constant buzzing sound. At high volume these sounds have a disorienting effect on most humans. At low volume the anophelena are able to shape these sounds into a facsimile of human speech in order to communicate with us. Without this they would not be able to talk at all as their mouths, despite outwardly appearing human, hide a long retractable proboscis the anophelena uses to feed with.
Attack Strategy:
Anophelena are fragile and not evolved for direct combat. Their wings give them some manoeuvrability, but they are not particularly fast fliers, preferring instead to skim close to the ground. Their preferred strategy is to use the loud buzzing of their wings to disorient their target while they sneak up on them. Once close enough, the anophelena jabs her proboscis into the target's flesh and injects a strong narcotic to render them unconscious.
The anophelena then carries her prey off to a safe location and ties them down so she can feed unhindered and at her leisure. She can feed on blood, but for some reason, as with other H-space indigenous organisms, they prefer to get their prey aroused sexually and drink their sexual fluids. In this case the anophelena inserts her proboscis into the urethra of her captive and sucks out semen directly from the base of the penis. This urethral insertion combined with the suction of her proboscis triggers a strong, continuous ejaculatory response in most males.
While their captive is helplessly climaxing, the anophelena starts to suck up her captive's other bodily fluids. She has multiple sacs in her breasts and abdomen to contain her victim's fluids and they are capable of generating enough suction to empty a full-grown man of all his fluids in a very short space of time.
Countermeasures:
Ear plugs are unfortunately not as effective at cutting out the anophelena's disorienting buzzing as would be hoped as the vibrations are transmitted directly through the skull. While anophelena are extremely manoeuvrable, especially in the difficult, marshy terrain they're often encountered in, they're also fragile, with the wings a weak point.
If forced to engage in close combat be wary of the anophelena's proboscis. The narcotic it injects is potent and will induce unconsciousness within moments of entering the bloodstream.
Threat Level:
Low, unless encountered as part of a larger swarm.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
H-space MGB Story: Anophelena
SPC Stewart Peter Bate was hot, sticky and seriously pissed off. This stinking swamp, a morass of twisting vegetation, extended as far as he could see in all directions.
He was pissed off at the government for posting him out to this shithole. He was pissed off at his commanding officers for scheduling him the shitty grunt work that facilitated his requirement to be in this shithole. Bate had been to college. He had a degree. He was supposed to enter the forces at a level higher than grunt. Couldn't they have found some uneducated Louisiana coonasses to do this? Heck, they'd probably feel right at home.
This was a boardwalk to make inroads into this swampy region. Vehicles weren't reliable because of the weird physics of H-space, so one of the bright young officers had come up with the idea of using bicycles to courier messages between the various outposts.
More than the government and his COs, Bate was pissed off at himself for making the rookie mistake of getting turned around and lost like some moron greenhorn out in the wilds for the first time.
However, none of these things pissed him off as much as the constant high-pitched whine he kept hearing in his ears. It was like being in bed at night and unable to sleep because you could hear a mosquito buzzing around and knew you had to swat that bloodsucker otherwise you'd wake up covered in itchy bites. This was that times ten.
Reflexively, Bate flailed a hand through the air in the vicinity of his ear. He was sure a goddamned skeeter was trying to dive-bomb him. That sound had been driving him nuts all day. He had no idea what was causing it. Sometimes he caught flickers of movement out of the corner of his eye but when he turned all he saw was more twisted branches and sweating vegetation.
He blamed that buzzing whine for causing him to get lost. He'd been too busy thinking about how it was bugging the hell out of him he hadn't paid close enough attention to where he was walking.
Now the light was fading and he was no closer to finding his way back to the path. The buzzing whine didn't help. If only it would stop for one goddamned minute to allow him to fucking clear his head and think.
Bate caught more movement on the periphery of his vision. This time he turned fast enough to see a human-sized shape slip behind a tangled knot of tainted plant life.
Bate was irritated enough to consider spraying bullets around him in a circle until the maddening sound stopped. He didn't because the only man-sized shapes out here were his fellow grunts.
"Hey, quit fucking around," he called out.
He chased after the shape. He rounded the bush in time to see the figure drift into a dense patch of fetid reeds.
Strange. He knew it had to be one of the guys yanking his chain, but before the figure had moved out of view he would have sworn he saw a pair of naked feet floating above the brackish puddles, like their owner was being carried or even floating just above the ground.
No. It had to be one of the guys—those assholes—screwing with him.
He reached the reed patch, or some alien equivalent. The plants looked like head-high bulrushes topped with lurid purple dildos. Whichever asshole was yanking his chain had gone in there. Bate bet it was Murata. Fucker was probably crouched down with his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. Bate was going to beat his skinny ass. He took a step in...
...and fell flat on his face.
The ground was not solid here. Bate had taken a step forward and his foot had come down on a mixture of water and mud that might as well have been empty air.
Fuck. Now he was lost, covered in mud and soaked through to the skin.
Worst of all, he could still hear that fucking stupid buzzing whine!
It seemed to be getting louder, and coming from behind him. In the moment Bate became aware it wasn't in his head, that there was something coming up behind him, it was already too late. He felt a sharp, jabbing sensation in his left buttock and everything went black.
Bate woke to find himself lying on some kind of small, bent-over tree with his wrists and ankles lashed to the branches with ropes made out of fibrous green reeds. He was naked and tied in a position that made it look as though he was sitting in stirrups and waiting for a gynecological examination.
Worst of all, Bate could still hear that goddamn buzzing! It was louder than before and felt like a blunt chainsaw grinding against the inside of his skull.
He pulled at his bonds without any success. He was stuck and completely at the mercy of... who?
The buzzing sounds in his skull started to resolve into voices.
"Is he to your liking?"
"Yes, he is perfect. You have done well."
Bate's eyes accustomed enough to the gloomy half-light to see there were shapes moving around him. In size and shape they resembled human beings—naked women to be exact—but their movements weren't right. They floated with their arms and legs hanging limply down as though they were suspended on a meathook. Closer inspection revealed both their support and the source of the buzzing sounds that had been driving Bate crazy all day. Each had a large pair of transparent insect wings emerging from between their shoulder blades. These were not their only insect feature—Bate saw each had a long cylindrical abdomen extending behind their drifting legs.
Hindigs, Bate thought.
They were mutants—or aliens—that possessed a mix of human and nonhuman parts. Bate had heard of them, although this was the first time he'd encountered any.
One of the insect girls drifted over to him. It was as he'd heard—she was a strange mix of sexy and fucking weird. She had a lovely, exotically beautiful face with wide bright eyes. She also possessed an equally lovely pair of curvaceous breasts that happened to be completely uncovered. If it hadn't been for the color of her skin—Goth-pale, bordering on white—her bust and face wouldn't have looked out of place on the pages of a nudie magazine. Hell, give her some tats and she'd be perfect for the alt skin mags and websites the weirder kids liked.
Bate suspected even those weirdos would have baulked at her other features. There was plenty of insect mixed in with the glamour-model curves. A long pair of antennae grew out of and drooped down from her temples. Chitinous black plates covered most of her back and wrapped around to cover parts of her chest and midriff. She also possessed an additional pair of insect arms beneath her regular human arms. They were spindly, black, jointed and terminated in small, three-fingered hands. This was before you even got to the wings whirring away or the long cylindrical abdomen growing out of her butt he thankfully couldn't see from this angle.
"How are you?" she said.
Said wasn't the right word. Her full red lips were bunched up in a sexy pout and never moved. He heard her words as if they'd been buzzed directly into his brain.
"What do you want?" Bate demanded.
The insect girl wrapped a warm hand around his flaccid member. "This."
Fucking nympho hindig. He'd heard they were supposedly obsessed with sex, although the stories Bate had heard had ranged from lewd bragging to dead-eyed horror. Hindigs could fuck your brains out in both the figurative and literal sense. Given that Bate was securely tied up and completely at her mercy, he hoped it was the former rather than the latter.
No, fuck that. No way was he sticking his dick in some alien insect bitc... ooh!
She crouched down between his legs. One hand slithered all over and pumped his cock while her other hand gently fondled and massaged his balls. The scientists claimed they were the first humans to set foot in this dimension. Well, if that was the case, there must be some male bugs buzzing around with similar plumbing because this girl had picked up plenty of practice.
She worked his junk like a pro and he felt a warm pleasurable feeling envelop his loins as his cock swelled up in an erection. Her jet-black eyes fixed on his as her nimble fingers slithered, twisted, squeezed and pumped in ways that had Bate hard and throbbing.
"I want to give you a good hard suck," she said.
Again the words were buzzed right in Bate's skull without her moving her lips. They remained bunched up in an alluring pout. Bate imagined those luscious red lips wrapped around his manhood and his erection flexed even harder.
She moved close enough for her bulging titties to brush against his twitching shaft.
Bate wouldn't mind slipping it between those puppies either.
Aw fuck it. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it, so he might as well enjoy it.
"Take your best suck," he said.
Lips still pursed together in a seductive pout, she placed hands on her breasts and sandwiched Bate's cock between them. She rubbed her soft mammaries against him and tilted her face—and those lush, moist lips—down towards his lap.
Titwank plus blowjob, there were worse ways to be treated as a prisoner, Bate thought.
He noticed there was something in her mouth—something slender and black that tapered to a point. It looked like she was sucking on a black straw with a pointed tip that was so short it only just poked out of the plush ring of her red lips. Then it poked out more and extended...
...and extended...
...until a black spike a foot long had emerged from between her lips.
Bate understood now why she didn't talk through her mouth. Beneath those luscious red lips her mouthparts were all insect. This was her proboscis and Bate was uncomfortably aware the pointed tip was focused right on the swollen red head of his cock as though someone had slapped a big bright bullseye on it.
He squirmed ineffectually against his bonds.
The mosquito girl gripped his balls and gave them a squeeze that wasn't painful, but clearly hinted that it could be.
"Be still," she said. "This won't hurt."
Bate stopped squirming. The mosquito girl wrapped a hand around his shaft and held his cock in place while her proboscis descended. He couldn't look away and could only watch in horror as the tip of the slender black tube went into his urethral opening and slid smoothly into his cock. He kept expecting burning pain, but there was nothing more than a weird sensation of fullness.
"I like to suck right from the source," she said. "Don't worry, you'll still feel the same pleasure... maybe more."
She plumped her tits against his cock. The sensations of her warm soft flesh pressing against him on the outside and squeezing him up against the smooth rod inserted down the center of his cock had him trembling in pleasure. Her cheeks became concave and she sucked. Bate's pleasures peaked in one bone-rattling explosion of euphoria. The strange thing was that the orgasm didn't go anywhere. His cock throbbed around her proboscis, but he wasn't able to push it out of his body or ejaculate past it. His climax fell back on itself and the backwash concentrated in his loins as a warm glow. He also felt a strange drawing sensation and realized it was the mosquito girl sucking his semen up her proboscis. It was a pleasant tickly sensation inside him that sent an equally pleasant tingly static-like sensation across his skin.
"That was some suck," Bate said.
A post-orgasmic feeling of euphoria washed over him. He forgot about being tied down. He forgot about the proboscis inserted into his cock. Okay, it wasn't so much forget as didn't care. After all, it could have been a lot worse.
"Why, I've barely begun to suck," the woman said.
That tickly sensation wormed deeper into Bate and coiled around his testicles and prostate. Her cheeks sank in. She plumped her tits up against Bate's erection and took another suck.
It triggered another detonation of pleasure in Bate's crotch. He moaned at the intensity of it and thrashed his head from side to side. The mosquito girl sucked and sucked and that tickly drawing sensation intensified and triggered secondary explosions of bliss.
The drawing sensation grew more powerful and Bate felt her bountiful breasts pulse around his shaft. He looked down at her perfect pink swollen spheres. They slowly pulsed with the same rhythm as the jerking sucks tugging on Bate's whole body. And swelled. Bate was wedged deep within her cleavage and he felt the softness of her expanding boobs pressing all around him. Only the tip of his cock was visible now as it poked up out of the top. It was linked to her moist red lips by the slender black tube of her proboscis. As her cheeks worked back and forth and her boobs pulsed like twin hearts he heard the sound of his fluids rushing up the inside of her feeding tube.
Then another orgasm burst within him and Bate's head tipped back. That was strong. So strong. It blasted through him and kept blasting and left him as weak and floppy as a rag doll. She kept sucking, kept drawing, and Bate kept trembling like he was spunking a never-ending stream of cum.
"More?" she buzzed playfully in his mind.
She didn't wait for an answer. This time the great chambers in her abdomen opened up and expanded. She sucked.
Bate let loose a gargling cry of pleasure that collapsed into a dry rattle as his body shrank in on itself and withered into a wizened husk as the anophelena sucked out all his fluids. Contentedly full, she withdrew her proboscis from his cock and retracted it back behind her luscious red pout. Then, heavy with Bate's fluids and soul, she languidly buzzed away across the reeds and brackish water.
He was pissed off at the government for posting him out to this shithole. He was pissed off at his commanding officers for scheduling him the shitty grunt work that facilitated his requirement to be in this shithole. Bate had been to college. He had a degree. He was supposed to enter the forces at a level higher than grunt. Couldn't they have found some uneducated Louisiana coonasses to do this? Heck, they'd probably feel right at home.
This was a boardwalk to make inroads into this swampy region. Vehicles weren't reliable because of the weird physics of H-space, so one of the bright young officers had come up with the idea of using bicycles to courier messages between the various outposts.
More than the government and his COs, Bate was pissed off at himself for making the rookie mistake of getting turned around and lost like some moron greenhorn out in the wilds for the first time.
However, none of these things pissed him off as much as the constant high-pitched whine he kept hearing in his ears. It was like being in bed at night and unable to sleep because you could hear a mosquito buzzing around and knew you had to swat that bloodsucker otherwise you'd wake up covered in itchy bites. This was that times ten.
Reflexively, Bate flailed a hand through the air in the vicinity of his ear. He was sure a goddamned skeeter was trying to dive-bomb him. That sound had been driving him nuts all day. He had no idea what was causing it. Sometimes he caught flickers of movement out of the corner of his eye but when he turned all he saw was more twisted branches and sweating vegetation.
He blamed that buzzing whine for causing him to get lost. He'd been too busy thinking about how it was bugging the hell out of him he hadn't paid close enough attention to where he was walking.
Now the light was fading and he was no closer to finding his way back to the path. The buzzing whine didn't help. If only it would stop for one goddamned minute to allow him to fucking clear his head and think.
Bate caught more movement on the periphery of his vision. This time he turned fast enough to see a human-sized shape slip behind a tangled knot of tainted plant life.
Bate was irritated enough to consider spraying bullets around him in a circle until the maddening sound stopped. He didn't because the only man-sized shapes out here were his fellow grunts.
"Hey, quit fucking around," he called out.
He chased after the shape. He rounded the bush in time to see the figure drift into a dense patch of fetid reeds.
Strange. He knew it had to be one of the guys yanking his chain, but before the figure had moved out of view he would have sworn he saw a pair of naked feet floating above the brackish puddles, like their owner was being carried or even floating just above the ground.
No. It had to be one of the guys—those assholes—screwing with him.
He reached the reed patch, or some alien equivalent. The plants looked like head-high bulrushes topped with lurid purple dildos. Whichever asshole was yanking his chain had gone in there. Bate bet it was Murata. Fucker was probably crouched down with his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. Bate was going to beat his skinny ass. He took a step in...
...and fell flat on his face.
The ground was not solid here. Bate had taken a step forward and his foot had come down on a mixture of water and mud that might as well have been empty air.
Fuck. Now he was lost, covered in mud and soaked through to the skin.
Worst of all, he could still hear that fucking stupid buzzing whine!
It seemed to be getting louder, and coming from behind him. In the moment Bate became aware it wasn't in his head, that there was something coming up behind him, it was already too late. He felt a sharp, jabbing sensation in his left buttock and everything went black.
Bate woke to find himself lying on some kind of small, bent-over tree with his wrists and ankles lashed to the branches with ropes made out of fibrous green reeds. He was naked and tied in a position that made it look as though he was sitting in stirrups and waiting for a gynecological examination.
Worst of all, Bate could still hear that goddamn buzzing! It was louder than before and felt like a blunt chainsaw grinding against the inside of his skull.
He pulled at his bonds without any success. He was stuck and completely at the mercy of... who?
The buzzing sounds in his skull started to resolve into voices.
"Is he to your liking?"
"Yes, he is perfect. You have done well."
Bate's eyes accustomed enough to the gloomy half-light to see there were shapes moving around him. In size and shape they resembled human beings—naked women to be exact—but their movements weren't right. They floated with their arms and legs hanging limply down as though they were suspended on a meathook. Closer inspection revealed both their support and the source of the buzzing sounds that had been driving Bate crazy all day. Each had a large pair of transparent insect wings emerging from between their shoulder blades. These were not their only insect feature—Bate saw each had a long cylindrical abdomen extending behind their drifting legs.
Hindigs, Bate thought.
They were mutants—or aliens—that possessed a mix of human and nonhuman parts. Bate had heard of them, although this was the first time he'd encountered any.
One of the insect girls drifted over to him. It was as he'd heard—she was a strange mix of sexy and fucking weird. She had a lovely, exotically beautiful face with wide bright eyes. She also possessed an equally lovely pair of curvaceous breasts that happened to be completely uncovered. If it hadn't been for the color of her skin—Goth-pale, bordering on white—her bust and face wouldn't have looked out of place on the pages of a nudie magazine. Hell, give her some tats and she'd be perfect for the alt skin mags and websites the weirder kids liked.
Bate suspected even those weirdos would have baulked at her other features. There was plenty of insect mixed in with the glamour-model curves. A long pair of antennae grew out of and drooped down from her temples. Chitinous black plates covered most of her back and wrapped around to cover parts of her chest and midriff. She also possessed an additional pair of insect arms beneath her regular human arms. They were spindly, black, jointed and terminated in small, three-fingered hands. This was before you even got to the wings whirring away or the long cylindrical abdomen growing out of her butt he thankfully couldn't see from this angle.
"How are you?" she said.
Said wasn't the right word. Her full red lips were bunched up in a sexy pout and never moved. He heard her words as if they'd been buzzed directly into his brain.
"What do you want?" Bate demanded.
The insect girl wrapped a warm hand around his flaccid member. "This."
Fucking nympho hindig. He'd heard they were supposedly obsessed with sex, although the stories Bate had heard had ranged from lewd bragging to dead-eyed horror. Hindigs could fuck your brains out in both the figurative and literal sense. Given that Bate was securely tied up and completely at her mercy, he hoped it was the former rather than the latter.
No, fuck that. No way was he sticking his dick in some alien insect bitc... ooh!
She crouched down between his legs. One hand slithered all over and pumped his cock while her other hand gently fondled and massaged his balls. The scientists claimed they were the first humans to set foot in this dimension. Well, if that was the case, there must be some male bugs buzzing around with similar plumbing because this girl had picked up plenty of practice.
She worked his junk like a pro and he felt a warm pleasurable feeling envelop his loins as his cock swelled up in an erection. Her jet-black eyes fixed on his as her nimble fingers slithered, twisted, squeezed and pumped in ways that had Bate hard and throbbing.
"I want to give you a good hard suck," she said.
Again the words were buzzed right in Bate's skull without her moving her lips. They remained bunched up in an alluring pout. Bate imagined those luscious red lips wrapped around his manhood and his erection flexed even harder.
She moved close enough for her bulging titties to brush against his twitching shaft.
Bate wouldn't mind slipping it between those puppies either.
Aw fuck it. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it, so he might as well enjoy it.
"Take your best suck," he said.
Lips still pursed together in a seductive pout, she placed hands on her breasts and sandwiched Bate's cock between them. She rubbed her soft mammaries against him and tilted her face—and those lush, moist lips—down towards his lap.
Titwank plus blowjob, there were worse ways to be treated as a prisoner, Bate thought.
He noticed there was something in her mouth—something slender and black that tapered to a point. It looked like she was sucking on a black straw with a pointed tip that was so short it only just poked out of the plush ring of her red lips. Then it poked out more and extended...
...and extended...
...until a black spike a foot long had emerged from between her lips.
Bate understood now why she didn't talk through her mouth. Beneath those luscious red lips her mouthparts were all insect. This was her proboscis and Bate was uncomfortably aware the pointed tip was focused right on the swollen red head of his cock as though someone had slapped a big bright bullseye on it.
He squirmed ineffectually against his bonds.
The mosquito girl gripped his balls and gave them a squeeze that wasn't painful, but clearly hinted that it could be.
"Be still," she said. "This won't hurt."
Bate stopped squirming. The mosquito girl wrapped a hand around his shaft and held his cock in place while her proboscis descended. He couldn't look away and could only watch in horror as the tip of the slender black tube went into his urethral opening and slid smoothly into his cock. He kept expecting burning pain, but there was nothing more than a weird sensation of fullness.
"I like to suck right from the source," she said. "Don't worry, you'll still feel the same pleasure... maybe more."
She plumped her tits against his cock. The sensations of her warm soft flesh pressing against him on the outside and squeezing him up against the smooth rod inserted down the center of his cock had him trembling in pleasure. Her cheeks became concave and she sucked. Bate's pleasures peaked in one bone-rattling explosion of euphoria. The strange thing was that the orgasm didn't go anywhere. His cock throbbed around her proboscis, but he wasn't able to push it out of his body or ejaculate past it. His climax fell back on itself and the backwash concentrated in his loins as a warm glow. He also felt a strange drawing sensation and realized it was the mosquito girl sucking his semen up her proboscis. It was a pleasant tickly sensation inside him that sent an equally pleasant tingly static-like sensation across his skin.
"That was some suck," Bate said.
A post-orgasmic feeling of euphoria washed over him. He forgot about being tied down. He forgot about the proboscis inserted into his cock. Okay, it wasn't so much forget as didn't care. After all, it could have been a lot worse.
"Why, I've barely begun to suck," the woman said.
That tickly sensation wormed deeper into Bate and coiled around his testicles and prostate. Her cheeks sank in. She plumped her tits up against Bate's erection and took another suck.
It triggered another detonation of pleasure in Bate's crotch. He moaned at the intensity of it and thrashed his head from side to side. The mosquito girl sucked and sucked and that tickly drawing sensation intensified and triggered secondary explosions of bliss.
The drawing sensation grew more powerful and Bate felt her bountiful breasts pulse around his shaft. He looked down at her perfect pink swollen spheres. They slowly pulsed with the same rhythm as the jerking sucks tugging on Bate's whole body. And swelled. Bate was wedged deep within her cleavage and he felt the softness of her expanding boobs pressing all around him. Only the tip of his cock was visible now as it poked up out of the top. It was linked to her moist red lips by the slender black tube of her proboscis. As her cheeks worked back and forth and her boobs pulsed like twin hearts he heard the sound of his fluids rushing up the inside of her feeding tube.
Then another orgasm burst within him and Bate's head tipped back. That was strong. So strong. It blasted through him and kept blasting and left him as weak and floppy as a rag doll. She kept sucking, kept drawing, and Bate kept trembling like he was spunking a never-ending stream of cum.
"More?" she buzzed playfully in his mind.
She didn't wait for an answer. This time the great chambers in her abdomen opened up and expanded. She sucked.
Bate let loose a gargling cry of pleasure that collapsed into a dry rattle as his body shrank in on itself and withered into a wizened husk as the anophelena sucked out all his fluids. Contentedly full, she withdrew her proboscis from his cock and retracted it back behind her luscious red pout. Then, heavy with Bate's fluids and soul, she languidly buzzed away across the reeds and brackish water.
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