Succubus Ch. 04

Scott woke with a start. Dark figures pervaded his vision and he felt the heat of open flames. One of the things was coming from his left and he thrashed about, grasping at anything he could reach, pushing himself away from the shadow. He found that he was on his back and he had to fight to move away from the shapeless figures. His hand struck some cold, hard object. With rising panic, he pushed it away from him.

As he did so, he heard a loud crash off to his left. Startled, he clawed his way into a sitting position and leapt forward. He fell a short distance before hitting solid ground. He was unhurt and stood, in a low crouch, surveying his location. It was dark and he couldn't make out much. He saw a dim light coming from his left. It appeared to be a doorway.

A shadow appeared to his right, closing in. He made a break for the passage, but something heavy blocked his path. As he ran headlong into it, it made an unholy high-pitched squeal. He couldn't make out what it was. It was only a shadow amongst shadows. So, he did the only thing he could do: he took a couple of steps backwards, ran forward and dove over it, headfirst.

His shoulder caught something solid and he cried out in pain. He saw stars as he fell, his hand sliding down the hard wall, trying to grasp at anything to stop his decent. As he landed with a heavy thud, the room was cast in a brilliant, white light. He curled up in an effort to protect himself from the coming abominations.

But nothing happened. He waited a bit longer, but nothing continued to happen. He decided that he would risk opening his eyes. The bright light hurt his eyes and he closed them tightly again. In the back of his mind, something was nagging him. Something wasn't quite right. No, no. That wasn't it. Everything was absolutely right and that was what was wrong. Slowly, carefully, he opened one eye.

He found himself lying face down on a hardwood floor, his very own hallway stretching out before him. A dust bunny flitted back and forth across the wood floor in time with his breaths, until in disgust he swept it away with his hand. He winced in pain as his right shoulder complained, white hot pain shooting through his neck. Slowly he turned himself over and righted himself, cradling his aching shoulder as he did so. He propped himself up into a sitting position in the doorway.

From this new position, he saw the hulking shape of his easy chair. Its fraying green mass was lying on it's side. Scott sighed. It was obviously what he'd dived over before striking the doorframe squarely with his shoulder. He looked up and saw that the white, painted wood was now dented in one spot, presumably the impact location. He absent-mindedly rubbed his shoulder in awe that he wasn't more hurt.

Next to the door, he saw that his bedroom light switch had been flicked. He'd probably hit it on his way to the floor. It was the one switch, in the entire house, that had been wired upside down. It had driven him crazy for months when he'd first moved in, but now he was grateful for the amateur handyman that had done so or else he might have run, screaming, all the way to the kitchen.

He pushed himself up with his legs until he was in a standing position. He stood there for a moment, looking as if he might fall over at the slightest provocation. Instead, he took a few steps forward and righted the chair, his shoulder screaming as he did so. Rubbing it with his left hand, he leaned heavily against the wall.

After a moment, the pain subsided and he continued his perilous trek across his bedroom floor. He rounded the corner, heading toward the bed. The covers were in such a disarray that he'd have to tear it all down to put them back on properly. A crunch underfoot, followed swiftly by a sharp stab of pain from his foot caused him to leap away from the spot and onto the bed.

Cradling his foot he collapsed onto the bed, rolling around on his back. He pulled his foot as close to his face as possible so that he could examine the damage. There, lodged in the sole of his foot, was a shard of aqua colored ceramics. He quickly brushed it away and it went flying from the bed onto the floor, where it bounced with a tick-tack sort of sound. He could see a small drop of blood where it had been lodged. It had barely pierced the skin, but it hurt just the same.

He wanted to get a better look at it, though, and he leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp. He waved his hand around for a moment, feeling for the lamp. It took a few seconds to register the fact that he was, indeed, not actually having much success in finding it. Frowning, he turned to look at the small table, but there was nothing there except for an alarm clock reading 8:46 AM.

A moment of swift logic brought him to an inevitable conclusion. His frown deepening, he leaned over the edge of the bed and examined the floor. There, he found that he had shattered his bedside lamp. Bits of aqua colored ceramics covered the floor. His mother had given him the lamp and she was not going to be happy. Then again, he'd hated it, so things being equal, it was okay.

He looked back at the clock, which now proudly displayed 8:47 AM in large, red LED numbers. Another look at the floor simply brought forth a sigh. He'd clean up the mess later. For now he needed a shower, badly.

He slowly crawled from the bed, carefully minding the shards of ceramic as he stepped onto the floor. Weaving his way across the room, he made his way over to an antique chest of drawers. It was probably the nicest piece of furniture he owned, also given to him be his mother. However, he didn't seem to mind this piece quite so much.

He opened the top drawer and retrieved a fresh pair of boxers. Boxers in hand, he turned to head toward the bathroom. Glimpsing the state of his bedroom elicited another sigh. It looked like a bomb had gone off. A strong urge to straighten the room passed through him, but he didn't give in. He explained to himself that he'd square this all away after he'd had a shower. With that, he trudged off down the hall.

Entering the bathroom, he tossed his boxers onto the vanity. They immediately fell into the sink. He flicked on the light and closed the door behind him. The bright light hurt his eyes for a moment and he winced. A large mirror hung above the vanity, but he didn't even want to look at himself. He felt like shit and he probably looked like shit. Ignoring the mirror for the moment, he pushed the curtain aside, reached in and turned on the hot water. He straightened and shrugged out of his boxers, allowing them to fall to the floor a crumpled heap.

He stepped into the tub and turned the center knob. After a moment, hot steaming water gushed from the overhead nozzle, deluging him with relaxing warmth. Scott felt instantly better as the water poured over the nape of his neck. The water was a little warmer than he usually preferred it, but given the morning he'd had, it was refreshing all the same. He made a small circle with his injured shoulder. It was loosening his aching shoulder. With growing enthusiasm he realized his foot had already stopped throbbing. Progress.

As he stood there, he thought back to the nightmare he'd had. It had definitely been a nightmare as there was no other way to describe it. As it started, he was standing in a small chamber. It was hexagonal shaped. Around the perimeter of the room, probably three feet high, was a wall that appeared to be a cross between chiseled stone and molten rock. Large, rib-like structures jutted from the top of this wall at each of the six vertices. They were at least two feet thick near the bottom, tapering to a point of only an inch or so as they curved in, forming a domed ceiling.

Large, slap-like doors barred the exits, set into two of the flat surfaces. They ran parallel of each other and seemed quite solid. He tried opening one and then the other, but had found no way to do so. He called out, but there was no answer.

A round bed was the only object in the room, other than himself, so he naturally gravitated toward it. Suddenly, the dream shifted and he was tied to the bed, thrashing wildly. Strange beings of sinister design were entering through one of the, now open, doors. They would move to the side of the bed, examine him, and then move on, exiting through the other door. Through the open door, he could see flames and...

Suddenly, he was jarred from his flashback. Apparently, he had dropped the bottle of shampoo he'd retrieved and it was rattling around in the tub. With a look of embarrassment he reached down and picked it up. Shaking his head, he laughed. It had been a bad dream, that's all. But it was the third night in a row and, if the current events were any indication, they were getting worse.

He poured a small amount of shampoo into his cupped hand and lathered up his hair. He then, fumbling, picked up a bar of soap from the shelf and moistened it under the stream of water. He then began to wash, building the soapsuds up into a heavy spume. He then rinsed both his hair and body, enjoying the steaming water.

When he was finished, he reached down and twisted the center knob. He then reached over and turned off the hot water and then the cold. He frowned. As his hand attempted to turn the cold tap, he realized that he'd never actually turned it on. Usually the water would have been so hot that he'd been scalded. He frowned again. He'd have to check the water heater this afternoon.

Stepping from the tub, onto the bath mat, he retrieved his towel from the hook set into the wall opposite the vanity. It was large and it was soft and it was exactly what he needed. He slowly toweled himself off, running the towel over his hair first. He winced as he got to his shoulder, but it was only a mild irritation now, only sensitive to the touch. He smiled, glad that his shoulder wasn't as bad off as he'd thought.

He leaned over the vanity and, with the towel, wiped away the vapor from the mirror. It didn't clear all of it away and through the remaining moisture he could see a hazy reflection of himself. He turned and examined his shoulder, but he couldn't make out much of anything. He tried drying the mirror once more, but the moist air simply fogged it again. Wrapping the towel around him, he opened the door and strode out of the bathroom, flicking the light off as he exited.

Returning to the bedroom, he tossed the damp towel onto the back of the ratty recliner, which complained noisily as it rocked. He smiled as he realized that that had been the sound he heard when he was scrambling about, trying to leave the room. Then, realizing he'd left his boxers in the bathroom, he stepped over to the chest of drawers and opened the drawer once more. He sighed as he saw that the drawer was empty. He'd forgotten that he had needed to take care of the laundry.

He made an about face and stomped back toward the bathroom. As he entered the bathroom, he flipped on the light. The mirror had defogged a bit by this time and as he reached forward to pick up his boxers from the sink, he caught himself in the mirror. He stood there was a moment, unsure of what he was looking at. He pumped his jaw as an inarticulate sound emerged.

Standing in front of the mirror, he saw that his abs were firm and could just make out the beginnings of a chiseled six-pack. His chest looked broader and more developed. His arms were leaner and more muscular. His face had even slimmed. He stood in the mirror for a moment, admiring his body. It wasn't his imagination. He flexed his newly found muscles in a mockery of a random assortment of body building poses.

All of this was great news, great news, indeed. That is if it wasn't for the fact that he'd only been going to the gym for two weeks. He'd decided to start hitting the gym after he had met Miln. She had such a rocking body and he wanted to look his best for her. There was no way he could have gotten this ripped, this fast.

But, he was. He was on his way to the body he wanted and, honestly, he didn't care how. A broad smile crept across his slimmer face. He just couldn't help smiling. With a light heart, he snatched up his boxers from the sink, twirled them around his index finger, and then marched happily out of the bathroom.

He skipped down the hall, smiling to himself. As he skipped, her noticed that his legs were more toned and muscular as well, further adding to his childlike glee. On entering the bedroom, he snatched the towel from the recliner, rolled it into a ball, and punted it down the hall. Noticing that he was still completely naked he spun the recliner around, dropped heavily into it, and nearly jumped into his underpants.

Snapping his fingers, he danced around the bedroom until he was in front of his chest of drawers. He opened the sock drawer and upon finding socks in it, he let out a little cheer. He pulled out a pair of socks and from another drawer he pulled out a pair of khaki shorts. He retrieved a yellow polo shirt from the closet and dressed, humming quietly to himself. He closed the closet door and examined himself in the full length mirror that had been mounted on the back side.

He frowned at his frumpy appearance. "Ugh, this simply will not do!" he said out loud. He quickly opened the closet door and withdrew a pair of worn sneakers. He slipped them on and headed down the hallway. He turned left at the end of hallway, swiped his keys from the table next to the front door, and left the house.

He pondered where he wanted to go. Now that he was in shape, he wanted to show off all the hard work he'd put forth the past couple of weeks. He opened the driver side door to his Honda Civic and plopped down behind the wheel. Who would sell the type of clothes he was looking for? It needed be somewhere that sold athletic clothing. Then it dawned on him. He put the car in gear and quickly backed out of the driveway.

He drove down the road, enjoying the bright Saturday sunshine, rapping the steering wheel in time with a song on the radio. The sun was shining and he was in a hell of a good mood. He rolled down the windows and turned up the music. Damn, it was good to be alive.

He pulled up in front of the first store he could think of: REI. He'd never really been there, because he never did the kinds of things that would require their clothing. But all that would change now that he was in shape. He unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped lightly out of the car. He tossed his keys into the air, caught them and then shoved them into his pocket. He headed inside.

As the sliding, glass doors closed behind him, he took in the store. Rustic wood beams jutted out in excitingly rustic shapes. It gave the whole store an air of the outdoors. He thought that perhaps REI wasn't the store in which he really wanted to be shopping. Then he figured what the hell, he was there.

He walked up to and peered at a mock camp site built in the center of the lower level of the store. A young boy was bent over a mock campfire with a mock stick with mock marshmallows on the end. A resin cast old man was gathering wood, opposite of the frozen campfire. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, he decided to just browse around and see what he could find.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for: fitted shirts. He wanted to show off those wonderfully toned abs that he'd spent all of two weeks developing. He rifled through several racks of clothing before he eventually found a couple that he liked. He tucked them under one arm and then wandered aimlessly through the store.

At one point, he found a pair of shorts that he liked and, miraculously, a pair of sunglasses that he actually thought looked good. He decided to go ahead and wear them while he browsed through the store. There was literally no one on the lower level of the store as he walked around. Eventually, he wandered up the stairs to the upper level. The upper floor was dedicated to women's wear, but he didn't care. He'd snagged a can of Red Bull, as he was walking around earlier, and figured it was time to pop it open.

There weren't many people in the upper part of the store, either. He noticed one couple and a single blonde woman as he strode around aimlessly. The guy was build and the women all had athletic bodies. He could feel his eyes unconsciously traveling towards the women, admiring the way their clothes hugged the gentle curves of their fit bodies and the swells of their firm breasts. He had always had a bad habit of watching women in public, but now he seemed almost mesmerized by them.

Both the couple and the blonde caught him looking. The guy simply nodded at him, basically telling him to fuck off. After a while, they collected their items and headed off down the stairs toward the registers. The lone blonde on the other hand gave him a cute little smile. He smiled back, though she'd already turned her attention back to the clothes in front of her, and sauntered over.

"How's it going?" he asked her, smiling, leaning against a rack of clothes. The rack squealed in protest as he did so, one garment falling to the floor. Scott didn't notice.

"Um, fine," she replied, barely glancing up from the shirts hanging in front of her, her long yellow hair, obscuring her face.

"I'm Scott," he said, unperturbed, offering his hand. Up close, Scott could see she was trim. She was wearing a pair of bicycling shorts and a tight fitting shirt to match. His eyes traced the gentle curves of her smooth legs and her firm butt.

She, on the other hand, only looked at his hand. "Um, hi, Scott," she said, with a flash of a smile. As she said the words, he felt an odd sensation wash over him. It wasn't much different than the "comfortably numb" feeling one gets when they've had a bit too much to drink, except he was lucid. Or, at least, he thought he was.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, leaning in a bit.

"It's, Sarah," she answered, this time turning to look at him. At the same time, she pushed back a lock of her golden hair. He felt her eyes lock onto his and some sort of connection seemed to form between them. He felt a stirring in his loins. The bizarre feeling deepened. He almost felt drunk.

"That's a pretty name, Sarah," he paused here for dramatic effect. "My name is Scott," he continued, offering his hand.

"Um, you just told me that," she said, laughing. Then, her face changed from one of mirth to one of alarm. After a brief pause, she followed with, "Are you drunk?" She waved her hands in front of the mirrored reflections of the sun glasses.

Suddenly, reality reasserted itself, snapping back like a rubber band, seemingly slapping Scott across the face. Scott felt his face flush and he was immediately embarrassed. "Oh, um," he tried to say. He whisked the sun glasses from his face. They fell to the floor.

The woman watched him as if he was crazy and, from the way things appeared, that might not have been far from the truth. He slowly backed away, backing into one of the racks. Clothing and hangers spilled to the carpeted floor as the rack went askew. He then spun around and left the area as quickly as he could, hiding behind a large display near the back of the store. After a few minutes, once he was sure the coast was clear, he made his way back down the stairs, stopping only briefly to retrieve the sunglasses. It wasn't often he found a pair he liked.

He'd decided he'd just pay for his items and get out before he embarrassed himself any further. However, at the register was the blonde girl. He looked to see if any of the other registers were open, but they weren't. Ugh, she would recognize him in a heartbeat. How embarrassing. He made up his mind to just leave his items and get out of the store, when he felt the same, strange feeling begin to bubble to the surface once again. He seemed instinctively drawn toward the blonde and he couldn't explain it. He shambled forward, slowly reaching for her like some undead zombie from countless horror films.