Incubus Pupa Ch. 12 Pt. 01

"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 just 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 actually 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 had come to terms with it though. I used to watch those trashy talk shows where the host interviewed women with huge boobs, and it always 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? And 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. I knew 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 own 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, beautiful 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 cicadas had quit due to the cold, a gaggle of crickets continued their pitched song. I sipped the last of my wine and set down my glass. It really was delicious, even to my braindead palette.

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?

Rising, I turned to my mate and smiled.

"You know, it just occurred to me that I've never shown you my wings."

"W-wings?" she stammered.

"Yeah," I confirmed, pulling off my t-shirt, "wings."

With a thought, I manifested them, throwing them open to her shocked look. The flickering light of the fire reflected off their iridescent highlights.

Christine drew back, looking positively terrified. Fuck! Catholic upbringing... Probably should have prepped her better for the reveal. Standing in the firelight, I probably looked positively demonic. I retracted them but didn't send them away.

Kneeling next to her chair, I reached for her, but she pulled away, looking at my hand with horror. I felt awful.

"Christine, it's me. It's your Adam, Baby. Look into my eyes."

She did, hesitating another long moment. When she saw the care and kindness in my gaze, some of her tension receded.

Reaching for her hand, I clasped her small fingers with mine. "Feel my hands. It's just me."

Finally, recognition dawned on her features once more. "Adam... I'm...sorry. That was a bit of a shock."

"No, that's my bad. I should have prepared you better for that. But here, take a look." I bent over and placed her hand on the rounded leading edge of my wing, watching her caress my feathers. "Just me, see?"

"They're so soft!" She said in wonder. "And beautiful!"

I closed my eyes, enjoying her delicate hands on the alien appendage. It was a very unfamiliar sensation: the feeling of her stroking a part of me that hadn't existed until two minutes prior. Sort of like having my back massaged, but my wings were more sensitive, so that didn't quite capture it.

"They're not exactly easy to show off...with how big they are, I kind of stick out like a sore thumb, and not in a good way."

"Can you fly with these?"

"That's what I aim to find out. Wanna help me?" I stood up and offered her a hand. I expected the cold to be getting to me without my shirt, but somehow I felt a lot warmer with my wings out. Weird.

"Sure..." she said tentatively, "but I'm not really sure what I can do."

"Come on, you can be an extra set of eyes. What do I know about flying?" I waved her on.

I'd given only a modicum of thought to the 'how' of this before. The truth was that I just had no idea how much lift these things could generate. I was no aerospace engineer, but I knew full well that most popular television and films portrayed mythical animals and humans that flew with entirely ludicrous proportions. Real birds flew only because they were extremely lightweight, and even they needed very large wings relative to their body size. Would these carry my weight at all? I verbalized my uncertainty to Christine.

"Well you'll never know until you try, right? Maybe just flap away and see what happens?"

"I like it," I grinned, "let's go."

Grabbing her hand, I walked beyond the fenced-in portion of the yard to an area that largely free of trees or other obstructions. It was at least a few hundred feet from the house, and about the same distance to the tree line near the edge of the property. There wasn't much light this far from the house, but the moon provided enough illumination at least to see each other and the terrain features. Looking around, I thankfully found that we were almost completely surrounded by trees. That should provide me at least some protection from prying eyes.

"Okay...here goes." I opened my wings fully to Christine's now excited smile, walking away from her a reasonable distance to avoid a collision.

I started slow, using the muscles in my back that I'd found could provide the flapping action to familiarize myself with the motion. Summoning as much strength as I could muster, I raised them as high as they would go and gave a mighty flap.

A powerful gust of air carried me all of about four feet into the air, at which point I dropped unceremoniously onto the dewy grass.

"Okay, that was embarrassing," I muttered.

"Don't beat yourself up, Love, I'm sure that's more difficult than it looks." Christine consoled.

I brushed myself off, gathering my dignity once more to repeat the process. This time I added leg power to the equation, figuring my incubus strength would assist. Crouching, I did my best high jump while pumping my wings. On reaching the seven or eight-foot apex, I flapped furiously to try to maintain my meager altitude. Frustratingly, each pump of my wings added little height, and worse, my upstrokes actually pulled me downward somewhat. At least this time I didn't dump myself on my ass when I came back to earth.

I growled.

"Well, it's an improvement, right?" she offered cheerfully. She's such a sweetheart. "You know, I noticed something odd when you were flapping up there that last time."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it almost looked like your wings were pulling you backward as well as upward."

"Hmm, that is interesting. I probably should have noticed that, but I can't see the ground all that well in the dark. There's not much of a reference."

"Just a second. Let me check something."

I folded my wings and walked over to her while she pulled out her smartphone. Heh, she was looking up mechanics of bird flight. Actually, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. I pulled out my own phone and searched.

"Hmm, this is interesting," Christine murmured, "it seems as though birds don't pump their wings to fly up, they do it to fly forward. Err, at least some of it. It seems there are two components to the stroke."

"Yeah..." I continued, finding my own results simultaneously, "looks like it's actually the forward motion that gives them the lift to stay in the air." Then I noticed something else about the photos of the birds in flight. "But the orientation is wrong."

She nodded, picking up my train of thought, "Exactly. If you were flying like a bird, you'd be lying down, based on the way your wings look to be attached to your body. But then...how are you going to take off in a horizontal position..." she pondered.

"Good question. I mean, I could try running bent over... That should at least put me in the right orientation for takeoff."

She shrugged. "Give it a try."

I grinned, really enjoying the challenge with her. Christine's pragmatic attitude and sensible approach to problem-solving was already winning me over. "You're amazing, you know that? We're a pretty good team." I exclaimed, grinning like a giddy fool.

I thought I caught her blush, but that couldn't be right. It was too dark. Wait...no. I hadn't seen it, I felt it. Almost like it was a second skin. Amazing...but I'd have time to appreciate that later. Right now, we were going to crack this nut if it killed us.

Facing away from her, I bent over and started running, wings extended. Holy shit was this awkward. Ever run while you're bent over? I can tell you, it ain't natural, and you feel like a fucking idiot when you're doing it.

Regardless of how comical I might have appeared to onlookers, my efforts did improve the results. Leaping into what was essentially a long jump, I projected myself to a lower height, but I was able to maintain it slightly better due to my forward momentum. I kept flapping with everything I had, using the powerful muscles in my back to pump my huge wings. Then I stopped, extending my wings and just trying to feel the flow of air over them. Gliding. Their sensitive structure gave me a remarkable amount of information about the direction and flow of the wind. I was too busy processing the sensations to realize that I had flown a good ways, only returning to reality when I saw the ground quickly approaching.

Tumbling into the moist turf once more, I collected myself.

Christine jogged over. "Adam, that was phenomenal! You must have flown sixty feet."

Looking back to where I'd 'taken off' -- as disingenuous as it felt to think of it that way -- I felt pitiful and frustrated, but at the same time oddly proud at her words.

"One thing," she offered, "you looked like you were flapping your wings in the same direction as when you jumped vertically before. Sorta straight down like," she flapped her arms to pantomime, "only since you were flying forward, they looked like they were moving mostly back. Is there a way you can kinda...here, open them up."

I did so, extending them to either side of me. It was odd. Amid my frustration, I felt a sense of excitement worming in. This was exciting, but the feeling had insinuated itself so suddenly, and in a moment when I was focused on my failure, so I wondered if the emotion was mine, or Christine's. Whatever... I let it wash over me, becoming immersed in the moment.

She walked her fingers all the way over the length of my wing, giving me a heated look as she stroked my feathers. When she reached the tip, she gathered the section on the end with the larger feathers with two hands and folded the end segment of my wing for me. I was getting aroused at her gentle touch, and I was pretty sure the experience was having a similar effect on her, but I wanted to make this happen.

"Like this," she moved the folded tip of the wing downward, toward the ground, "this is how you're doing it. But I think you need to do it like this." This time, she traversed it laterally toward the front of my chest, pulling it toward my back horizontally with the ground. "Tell you what, let's try something. Lie down on the ground."

I complied, noticing once more that the cold of the damp grass didn't register. It did make my jeans a little wet though.

"Okay," I said, ready to take instruction.

"Extend your wings again." I did, laying them flat to my sides. "Good. That's good." She walked to my face, kneeling down to watch me closely. "Now, try to flap them."

Using the motion I'd become accustomed to, I flexed my muscles to pump my wings. The wings pulled downward somewhat into the ground, but mostly they folded back toward my feet.

"You see what I'm talking about now?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think I do. I'm not using them correctly." I realized what I was doing was flexing my lats. The large muscles in the back that lets you do pullups and rowing motions. They're immensely strong -- the strongest muscles in the back, in fact, but they were pulling my wings in the wrong direction.

Christine knelt patiently with me, watching me flex each and every muscle in my back and shoulders I could single out. "There! I think you've got it!" she cried out. "Try that one again."

This time I used some combination of my traps and deltoids, or maybe even a muscle in my back that I had because of the wings, and it seemed to work. My wings flapped mostly up and down, relative to the ground. I practiced for a few more minutes, trying to simulate the compound waving action that I'd seen in some slow-motion bird flight videos.

"What do you think? Ready to try again?" she asked, ever patient with me. I clamored to my feet and gave her a peck on the cheek, earning me a bright smile in return.

"Alright, here goes nothing," I said, giving a determined huff.

After several more attempts at running starts, I had worked my distance record up maybe double that of the first 'flight', but frustration crept in again. Each time my wings were carrying me further, but none of my initial jumps launched me high enough to get my wings fully clear of the ground -- they kept brushing it on each downstroke, so I couldn't get full extension. But how could I get higher with the launch?

Christine echoed my thoughts, apparently following my line of reasoning very closely, "Maybe if we had a trampoline or something?"

"I thought about that, but I'm not sure that'll give me the forward movement I need."

If only I had more power for the jump... As an incubus, I was stronger than a human, but nothing like a comic book hero. Wait a minute though...most of my powers involved controlling the mind, but didn't the mind control bodily functions? If I could mess with my lover's brains to induce orgasm and arousal response, it stood to reason I might be able to increase metabolic function and muscular response.

This one had me a little worried though. What if I screwed something up? Would I end up crippling myself? Fuck it, I was determined to try.

I realized that Christine was still standing there waiting without complaint. Her confidence in me bled through our link, inspiring me. Smiling at her, I said, "I've got another idea. Gimme one sec."

Yet again I tinkered with a life pattern, only this time it was my own. I found the centers of the brain that controlled the functions I was looking to manipulate and tweaked them. Suddenly I felt very warm, and my skin felt flushed. My cock firmed up a bit from the increased blood flow, making a ridge in my jeans that snaked down my thigh. It was dark, so Christine must not have noticed.

"Alright, stand back," I warned, getting down into a runner's starting position.

I launched into a sprint, pumping my quad and calf muscles while I swung my arms with every ounce of power I could muster. It wasn't perfect -- each contraction was so intense it felt like a painful muscle cramp -- but I was flying over the lawn. I barely had time to think about how fast I was actually running before I was cresting the small hill I intended to use to take off. I leaped, pumping my wings with everything I had.

Holy shit! I shot off like a firework, launching myself at least two or three stories into the air. Remembering to keep my torso prone, I kept flexing the muscles Christine and I had already worked out would allow me to fly.

It was working! Each powerful stroke took me higher and faster until the sound of the air rushing by became overwhelming. I held my wings in a glide, trying to bank into a turn and finding it surprisingly easy. It felt like riding a bike -- I just leaned over and my wings took me in the right direction.

Realizing I had closed on the line of towering trees at the edge of the property, I gave several more powerful sweeps to clear the treetops. I knew from the size of the trees I was well over eighty or ninety feet up at this point, and looked back, seeing the tiny form of Christine looking up at me off in the distance.

Hot damn, I did it! I actually did it! I was fucking flying! This was amazing.

I turned back toward the house, making small movements to dive, climb, and bank. Over the next several minutes, I grew ever bolder with my aerial maneuvering, eventually summoning the courage to execute a barrel roll. A giddy feeling bubbled up in my gut and burst from me in a peal of gleeful laughter. It was like riding the best rollercoaster of my life.