Incubus Pupa Ch. 12

I smiled warmly, not realizing that she did that, but finding it incredibly adorable.

I noticed Christine had nearly finished her wine. "C'mon," I said, raising my glass, "let's top these off and go sit out on the patio."

"What about the dishes?"

"Leave 'em. The cleaning staff will take care of all that. I feel bad leaving such a mundane job for them, but tonight's a special night."

"Hmm, cleaning staff, you say?" she said, drawing out the words to express her great delight. "Well, by all means then, lead the way."

Before we exited, I selected yet another playlist -- something a bit more downtempo -- and sent the sound outside. The expansive paver patio was lit with warm light from hanging lamps, illuminating the moths flitting about the wisteria climbing the pergola to our left. There was a large fire pit in the center with heavy loungers, tables, and Adirondack chairs surrounding it. An outdoor kitchen was situated to our right. I found the object of my search just next to the large built-in grill: an under-counter firewood box.

Christine sat down on a lounger and regarded me over the rim of her glass as I scampered about, showing off my skill with fire-building. No stranger to Prometheus' gift (what young man is?), in a matter of moments I had a blaze crackling in the bricked-in pit. I stood entranced for a moment, following the sparks as they flew skyward like fireflies seeking mates amongst the countless stars of the clear October night sky. Fire had always seemed to have an almost supernatural pull on me.

"This is good," Christine murmured, eyeing her wine glass, "though I can't say I'd be able to tell the difference between a $20 bottle and what I'm drinking."

I dimmed the lamps to better emphasize the ambiance of the fire, snorting at her comment. "For all we know this was $20."

Returning to her side, I pulled my lounger flush with hers to make one large chair, sitting down to drape an arm over her shoulder and pull her to me tightly. The night was cool, but the crisp air of early fall and the smell of wood smoke had me invigorated.

Goosebumps pebbled the exposed flesh of Christine's arm, and I felt her slight form shivering against my chest. "I'm sorry, you're freezing!" I rubbed her arm briskly, "Here." Grabbing the throw blanket I'd set at the end of her lounger earlier that day, I covered her up. "Better?"

She nodded, still quiet.

"I know it's a little chilly, but once the fire gets going, it'll warm up."

She looked up at me, smiling gently and taking another sip of her wine. Azure eyes flickered in the orange firelight. Not for the first time that day, I counted my blessings.

"Man," I sighed, "I'm feeling a bit drained, now that I'm sitting down. You had quite a bit of stuff to move in." I ribbed her and taking another sip of the Cab.

"Awwww, poor ba-by," she mocked, "You know, you may have unloaded it, but I did pack it all. And you didn't just get repeatedly rammed by a telephone pole on the living room couch."

I laughed loudly, my curly brunette joining me in mirth a moment later. "I'm sorry Babe, I know I'm a lot to handle. I really appreciate you putting in the effort."

Staring at me for a moment, she leaned in and kissed me on the lips. "You're a good man, Adam."

I had to chuckle at that. "Not what I expected to hear after shoving ten inches of man meat into your backside."

"Oh, shut up," she swatted me with her free hand, "don't tease me. I'm trying to be serious here. Wanna know what I loved about it?"

"What?" I replied, sobering.

"Despite the discomfort, it made me feel like you cared for me. You thought about making me more comfortable, and suddenly I was. You've always made me feel good emotionally, but this was tangible; covering me like this blanket," she motioned to the throw in our laps, "Easing my pain away. It was your love."

Love? I didn't know about that... We were getting into somewhat uncomfortable territory, but her words made me happy nevertheless. The fact that my emotions could evoke a tactile response in her was pretty amazing, though not shocking given the breakthrough with Ia earlier.

I pulled her closer into my embrace, and she snuggled in.

"Here," she took the glass of wine from me, setting it on the small table next to the lounger before she patted her lap. "Lay down." She smirked. "I know you've had a long day, stud."

How could I say no to a lap pillow? Scooching down on the chaise, I lay my head on her wide thighs, appreciating the softness of her beneath the blanket.

"Adam," Her delicate hand caressed my cheek, giving my chin an affectionate stroke. "My Adam."

Her hand went to my forehead and combed cool fingers through my closely cropped hair. Feminine nails scratched lightly at my scalp, sending delightful tingling sensations throughout my body. I closed my eyes and relaxed into her. The music had stopped for some reason, but I didn't care. The sound of the occasional breeze and the popping of the fire calmed me and were I able, I would have purred like a cat under the electric pleasure of her nails on my skin. The rest of the world faded away, and I felt supreme contentment flowing from our bond.

"You figured out my weakness," I murmured, unable to resist the deep torpor overcoming me. "Don't think I'm done with you for the night..."

"Shhh, now. There's time. Just let me hold you.

"From little boys to big, strong men," she whispered, "there was never a male that couldn't be disarmed by a good head scratch." I heard the smile in her voice as the heavenly treatment continued. "It's womankind's secret weapon -- the male 'off button'."

I smiled, cracking an eye to regard her in the firelight. "Alright, miss smarty-pants, so you know how to press my buttons."

Her laugh came back, and I thought I detected a slightly mocking tone. "Oh, of that you can be sure, handsome."

Hmm, I honestly wasn't clear if that was just the lighthearted boast that it sounded like, or something more. Perhaps there was more than a timid little mouse eager to take orders and please under there? I was beginning to believe I might need to reevaluate my read on Christine.

She spoke softly, picking the conversation back up. "What you have with Ia -- should I assume it's related to the fact that you're an Incubus? I don't mean to pry, but a young guy like you having...that kind of relationship with a woman like Ianthe just seems...hard to believe. Sorry if that's rude."

I gave her a crooked grin. "Yeeeaaahh...something like that. I won't go into the details, but let's just say that being an Incubus makes me...special."

"You haven't told me much about that, come to think of it. About you, I mean. What is an Incubus, beyond someone who needs a lot of sex? We've shared so much together but I still feel like I don't know much about you."

I laughed for a moment, seeing her brow wrinkle in confusion.

"Sorry, it's not you; I'm laughing at myself. Your question is a good one. There's still a lot I don't know. Or rather, that I haven't experienced personally."

For the next several minutes, Christine sipped her wine as I expounded on the existence of my Fae: how it was originally a completely separate consciousness, and how I'd assimilated him.

I sat up and topped both of our glasses off, finishing off the bottle.

"So, do you have some kind of 'health bar' or something, like a video game? How do you know how much of this 'Vai-taay' -- or whatever you called it -- you have?" I smiled at her slightly slurring speech, noticing also that Christine was one of those people that started speaking very quickly when inebriated.

"No, nothing like that. When I say I need to 'feed', the euphemism is apt -- when I need more Vitae, the feeling is similar to when I'm hungry for food. Instead of wanting food, I feel as though I need...hm...'sex' isn't accurate exactly. It's more like...a need to pleasure women." I mused, satisfied to have captured it more adequately. "Of course, the distinction is somewhat academic, when it comes to how it happens," I said, grinning.

"Okay, so you know when you need more, and that implies that you know when you have enough, but other than that there's not much sense of it?"

I considered, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds right. Wait, now that I'm thinking of it, there is one other difference."

Christine sipped her wine, waiting for me to expound.

"Unlike eating food, I've never felt overly full. I've been satisfied -- as in, I don't feel the need for more -- but I've never become uncomfortable when I consumed too much. I'm not even sure if that's possible." I pondered. "You know, I appreciate you asking these questions -- I've never really thought about it long enough to parse all this out. This has been helpful." I said cheerfully.

She smiled, nodding. "If there's one thing you can count on me for, it's curiosity. Happy to help, of course. But what about the rest of it? Like, how much do you need? I know you said one woman can't keep you fed by herself -- that's kinda the whole point of us all living in this uber mansion, after all -- but I'm trying to get a sense of it; how many times a day would satisfy you? Like, are you getting enough from Ianthe, Sandy, and me? Should I be out there recruiting more, uh, donors for you?"

My eyebrows rose at that. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course." She nodded, appearing confused that I would ask. "I'd do anything for you. If you need more, I can certainly try to help. There are some pretty cute girls in some of my econ classes. I could bring a few over for a...study session," she teased, bouncing her eyebrows at me.

I leaned in and kissed her, touched that she would put aside whatever jealousy she felt to make sure I was satisfied. Then again, jealousy didn't appear to be a strong characteristic of hers. Far from it...

Bending to kiss her, I combed fingers through her hair, cradling her head tenderly as I locked my lips to hers. "You are the sweetest person I know."

Feeling her smile into my kiss, I answered, "This one I have spent more time mulling over, but the answers aren't as easy. I wish it were as simple as saying something like 'I need sex three times a day'. That would let me determine how many women I need, but it's more complicated than that. It's more like putting fuel in a car. Not only does the fuel consumption of the car matter, but how you drive it does too. How fast are you driving? Are you using the AC? Are you stuck in stop-and-go traffic? The analogy isn't perfect, but the point is that it's a resource I consume, not just something I passively burn to exist. And based on my limited knowledge of my kind, I might be using far more than most like me do.

"But to put it in terms that are a bit more concrete, when I'm not using it at all, maybe once a day is enough; when I'm going hog wild, I could eat seven...eight times a day." Saying this, I mimed chomping on her chest.

My small lover giggled, acting the part of the victim. "So...my handsome beast. How 'bout now. Are you hungry right now?" she said with a teasing grin, drawing out the word suggestively.

"Well, I could always eat from you, but I don't feel particularly starved. You and Ia took pretty good care of that today."

"Good." She nodded resolutely, "we need to keep our master well-fed." She said, climbing on top of me and reaching down to run her hands over my shoulders and upper arms. The wine was clearly affecting her now. "Would you like that, Adam? Huh? Do you want me to call you 'Master' too? Would you like another slave? Maybe I'd like that. 'Master, your slave wants you to put it in her butt again'." She giggled drunkenly, trying it on for size verbally.

I smiled patronizingly while laughing inside; it was remarkably close to something I might hear from Ia. Bleeding off a bit of her lust with my powers, I pulled her down and snuggled her again. The boiler on the horny train was just about to reach critical temperature, and I wanted to keep it in the station for now. We were having a nice chat, and I didn't want it to cut it short with another sex session.

Yet.

That, I was finding, was one of the more difficult aspects of being an incubus: being able to hold an engaging conversation with an attractive woman without having it devolve into a sex-fest in short order.

I tried to regain the thread of the discussion. "From you, my blue-eyed beauty, I like 'Adam'. Or one of your pet names. But feel free to call me 'Master' if it makes you happy. I'll even play the part if you want me to, though if you're asking for my opinion, I prefer things the way they are."

My trick worked; she seemed calmer now. "What else, then? What other things can you do?"

"It'd be tough for me to sit here and list off everything. Earlier you compared it to a character in a video game, but it's not a finite set of skills that are strictly defined. I can tell the power to do pretty much anything I can think of. There are limits to it though, of course."

Her eyes widened, "Woah...Adam that's incredible. So, you could..." she looked around, "lift that chair over there with your mind? Or maybe fly? Or shoot lightning bolts, like those comic book characters?"

"Er, no. I should have been more specific -- as an Incubus, my powers are limited to things that have to do with sex, procreation, memories, relationships, love. That sort of thing. Mainly stuff within the realm of the mind; whether it's influencing thoughts or controlling bodily functions. I used one earlier if you remember. When I messed around with your brain's ability to perceive stimulation of your clit? Bonding also opens up abilities I wouldn't possess with unbonded."

She giggled. "I am one lucky woman. I've got a boyfriend that can control people's minds, and he uses it to get me off. A lotta guys would be out there enslaving an army of pussy. Or robbing banks or something," she gave me a sloppy kiss, "but not my Adam."

I felt a little awkward at her praise, considering that I effectively had enslaved an army of pussy. Well, ok, maybe not an 'army', but...yeah. Moving along...

"...but yeah, mainly the mind stuff, but there's also some ability to change my mate's bodies as well."

"Wow! You've done that?"

"Yes. At least once, that I know of. Sandy's boobs have grown a few cup sizes since I bonded her."

She sat up, looking down at her chest, lifting her modest breasts with small hands.

"Do you...prefer big breasts? I know I'm not much to spe-"

Damnit, I knew I shouldn't have brought that up. I held up a hand. "Christine, stop. You're perfect. I'm not going to sit here and tell you I don't like big boobs. I wouldn't disrespect you with the lie." She looked down, and I continued, "but that doesn't mean I don't love smaller ones too!"

The female psyche was a mystery to me. Why, given such an abundance of evidence that she could arouse the ever-living fuck out of me, would she feel inadequate? Must they constantly be plagued by this drive to compare themselves to others?

Then again, that was hardly fair. I'd been jealous as hell over Jack Winston's height, thinking for so long that Ella only wanted to date exceptionally tall guys.

"Well, I noticed that you don't play with them that much. I thought you just didn't get into that, but maybe it's cause they're not big enough."

Shit, I needed to remedy that. The truth was that I was just so fixated on her incredible ass.

"Babe, if you enjoy that, I promise I'll put more effort into it. I admit though, I get too distracted with..." how to put this respectfully? "...the rest of you. That's bad form, I know, and I'll work on it, but I can't help myself. You just get me so hot." My cock started crawling down my leg as I replayed my quality time with her earlier.

Down boy.

"Well, what if I wanted you to make me bigger? Could you do that? I've always wondered what it'd be like to have big boobs.

"When I was a little girl, I prayed really hard that I'd get big ones like my cousin Sinead. She always seemed to be the center of attention. For a long time, I thought it'd be great if people would look at me like that.

"Deep down I never really expected it to happen; my mom has bee stings and my dad's mom isn't much bigger. Sinead must have got them from her dad's side. Anyway, it wasn't God's plan, because you see how they turned out."

As she spoke, I got up to feed the fire, throwing a couple of fragrant pieces of seasoned walnut into the embers.

"I came to terms with it though. I used to watch those trashy talk shows where the host interviewed women with huge boobs, and it surprised me that more than half of them said they would have preferred smaller ones. It's like, you got this amazing gift, and you're complaining about a little back pain? How entitled can they be, you know?"

She parroted, "'I want the hot guys to stare at me, but not the ugly ones.' 'I'm going to wear a top that shows three miles of cleavage to get 1% of guys to stare at me, but the other 99% are getting a nasty look if they so much as glance in my direction.' It's ridiculous!"

I cracked a smile at her rant. Obviously, this wasn't the first time this had crossed her mind.

"Sorry, I know it sounds like I'm bitter. I know I have it better than some girls," she slapped herself on the hip, "so I count myself blessed; I really do. And I know they didn't ask for big boobs or a hot body, but the least they could do is be grateful about it. Guys stare at my ass all the time, and I don't get all bent out of shape over it.

"Take Ia, for example. She's drop-dead gorgeous, but she wasn't throwing it in my face when we met earlier."

Again, I had to chuckle, internally, at how chatty the bit of wine had made her.

"I don't care about the boobs, really, but I guess it'd be nice to fill out my tops a little bit better. Half the time I have to shop in the 'young miss' section for those," she lamented.

I eyed her sadly, sympathizing with her pain. If I grew up with eight siblings, I'd probably be wanting more attention too. I needed to be sure I showed her how special she was to me. Just what to give her, though, was a different question. This wasn't some video game with a character creator slider to dispense breast size, hip width, and leg length.

"Well, let's think about it. I can't make any assurances on what I can deliver, but I can promise you that I'll do my best to give you what you want. You're my baby, and you deserve the best I can give."

The knowledge I'd gained from the Fae wasn't very specific about the means of body modification for my bonded. What I did know was that it had to do with some formula of their natural body state, their desires, and my sexual inclination. Maybe Elias could share some information...

"Aww, Baby..." she shook her curly head, "It's okay. As long as I'm yours, I'm happy." She put her hand to my cheek, tilting her head to kiss me deeply.

"You'll always be mine, Christine." I bored into her with my eyes, projecting the sincerity of my commitment.

She grabbed me in a desperate hug, and the conversation cooled. We looked to the blaze once more. Autumn was young, and though the crickets had quit their pitched song due to the cold, there were still sounds of the evening present. I sipped the last of my wine and set down my glass. It really was delicious, even to my braindead palate.

Then I had a thought. She talked about flying -- which of course I couldn't do in the way she'd meant it -- but I'd never had a good opportunity to see what I could do with my wings. I'd somewhat written them off as just a metaphysical part of my Fae, but now that I had some space to play around with them, why not try them out?