Juice for Juice

"They said I have the body of an eighty-year-old," he chuckled.

"I did this," Mom said. "I did this to you."

"Shhh, darling." Dad reached up feebly with his other hand, caressed Mom's cheek. She turned away. "So many people have far worse, or shorter. I had a lot of fun with you, and Elistina is a miracle."

I put together the puzzle pieces. "Is this energy drain?"

"I tried to stop it," Mom said. "I tried, and I thought it was okay, but I guess I was still stealing bits here and there."

It was a weird scene. She didn't look a day older than me, though I knew she was in her early hundreds. Her body exuded sex, powerfully enough to even attract me. And the effect was much stronger on the staff. I hadn't missed the nurses' poorly-concealed boners as I passed them in the halls. Hospitals aren't particularly horny places, but my mom was powerful.

"I love you so much," Dad said. "Both of you."

"This isn't the end is it?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so," he said quietly.

Mom wept quietly, holding his hand to her face.

"This is too sudden," I said. How was I supposed to react? He was just going to die? Just like that? I had to show him that I would be okay, right? I had to be strong for Mom, right? I choked, searching for words.

"Yeah," Dad agreed. "But I'll find some other pleasures, and your mom can feed on other men while I recover."

I blinked. "What?"

"We can't have sex anymore," Mom whined.

Oh.

I stood, angry that I'd let myself be taken for a ride, angry at myself for assuming the worst, angry at my parents for making me angry at myself... "That's it?"

"Don't say it like that! You have no idea how much our sex life has meant to us."

"Jesus, Mom."

"Show me another succubus who's monogamous like I was."

"Ugh."

"I was a legend in Hell."

"Does that matter?"

"Reputation is everything among demons!"

Dad just closed his eyes and smiled as this continued. I ruffled his thinning hair, glared at my mom, and stormed out of the hospital.

Bethica was sick, and I didn't really have any other friends close enough to understand what I'd just been through, so I just fumed as I wandered the streets of Fortune aimlessly. I considered going to the movies, or losing myself in a casual hook-up, but none of those distractions actually sounded that good to me. I realized I was spiraling, and also that I was allowing myself to think a little too much about my parents' sex lives. I tried to remind myself that everything was okay, that my parents loved each other, that my dad wasn't going to die yet. But even with some deep breathing, I couldn't calm down. As my feet led me into the business district, I decided I would do something productive to take my mind off things.

There was always accounting to be done at Juice For Juice. I turned onto our street, and maybe it was the funk I was in, but it took me a moment to process the fact that there was a line out the door. I rushed past everyone, pushing my way into the shop.

"Susan, what—"

I caught myself just as my breath caught. Heat flooded my body as I took in the scene unfolding before me. Susan was kneeling on the floor, her clothes a soggy mess. She had a dick in each hand. Dwayne was behind the counter, working the blender. When he saw me, his jaw dropped. Susan just lapped hungrily at the cocks before her, pumping them with her hands. Her glasses, nose, forehead, cheeks, and chin were stained with cum.

"Keep blending, Dwayne." Susan's voice belied no hesitation or shame.

Dwayne gave me a look, shrugged when I said nothing, and went back to work.

"Fuck, Susan," said one of the guys she was tugging.

"Pay up," she giggled.

"What is this?" I finally managed.

"Didn't seem like it would hurt anything," Susan said. "I've been collecting payment for smoothies."

"No, you haven't," I growled, despite myself.

There was a wavering emotion in the room, but the most powerful thing I felt was my own need. All the afternoon's negative emotions had left me drained, and here I was facing a buffet of essence.

Neither Bethica nor I had ever suggested that Susan do this. We'd treated her professionally, drawn up a meticulous harassment guideline, and brought in a third-party mediator on retainer in case Susan ever had a complaint about the overt sexuality in our workplace. We'd behaved immaculately. But here Susan was, playing the part of succubus, clearly of her own volition, and clearly enjoying it, but playing it poorly.

"Collection means consumption," I chided her.

In two strides I was in front of her, shoving customers aside, and then I dropped to the floor, put my hands on her shoulders, and began to feed, licking the cum from her face and neck. It wasn't as fresh as I like it—piping hot off the tap—but it was a thick, decadent melange, and it was tasty. She must have taken over a dozen loads in the time I'd been gone, and she was absolutely covered. I ran my fingers through her hair to collect the odd strand, and when her face was clean I began to work on her clothes. I undid her buttons as I licked cum off her blouse, feeling the energy build in me. My own want increased proportionally as I fed.

Bethica wasn't here, and I'd already decided to close the store early. I gave myself a pass.

"Hey, someone flip the sign," I said.

In dumb awe at the spectacle, no one objected. Someone close to the door obliged. Juice For Juice was officially closed. Dwayne, reading the room, moved away from the blender. He passed me and I handed him the keys. Some folks left, some entered. He whispered apologies to those who were here only for smoothies, and whispered encouragement to those who were interested in this departure from protocol. Once the outdoor crowd had dispersed, he locked the door.

On my knees, still immersing myself in Susan's cum-drenched body, I reached back with both hands and rolled my leggings down my ass.

I didn't have to say anything. The room was too charged. And I didn't need foreplay, either: I was soaked, hot, ready. With no warning, a cock entered me. I came.

I stared into Susan's eyes as someone I couldn't see took me doggy style, grinding deep into my pussy. She bit her lower lip, then hiked up her skirt and reached for the back of my head. It occurred to me that I didn't know where this was going, that I didn't know how it would change things for the shop. But the thought was faint, and easily dismissed. Susan's panties steamed inches from my nose. The scent of sex filled my brain, and I did what I always want to do: cunnilingus.

My sexual frenzy was so deep that it was an effortless proposition to temporarily sharpen my tongue with magic. I rendered Susan's underwear irrelevant with a careful incision. Tongue soft once more, I probed her slick vulva. Her labia were small, but puffy with arousal, and I explored their length as the man behind me unloaded in my vagina, releasing ten quivering spurts that each sent a frantic jolt of electricity to my tailbone.

No sooner had the first man ejaculated than he slid out of me and was promptly replaced. I recognized this cock, and knew it was Dwayne who had gotten in position. I happily swung my ass against his crotch as he fucked me. My tongue meandered messily toward Susan's clit. She howled when I reached it.

I went down on her for several minutes. In that time, I accepted ten different cocks, and ten different creampies. I gave Susan about half as many orgasms, which, given how hard it is to last inside me, is a ratio I'm proud of.

Talking wasn't very appealing to me for the twin reasons of being too turned on to approach cogency and preferring to keep my mouth glued to Susan's pussy, but with a touch of suggestion and some unmistakable body language, I eventually guided some of our guests toward my asshole. My body isn't on the same level as that of a full succubus, but it does become pretty pliable when I'm extremely horny, and no additional lube or warming up was necessary.

I milked three men dry with my ass before Susan finally pushed me away from her clit, trembling.

"Too sensitive," she whimpered.

I just nodded.

"Want some?" Dwayne asked Susan. I realized that none of the men in the shop had done anything to her in this time, focusing entirely on me. Susan even looked surprised.

"When you could fuck a succubus?"

"Call it a weird night," he chuckled, idly stroking his cock as he stood above her. "You're hot as fuck, Susan, and if you want some I don't want to miss this opportunity."

"Fuck yeah," she said.

"One rule," I said, leaning back to ride my current cock reverse cowgirl. "You can do anything she agrees to, but I get to eat the cum."

"No creampies?" Dwayne asked.

"Especially creampies," I smiled.

With that exchange complete, Dwayne took Susan in missionary and another one of the customers unceremoniously shoved his cock in my mouth. I lost myself in the orgy, my second greatest sexual fantasy, a no-holds-barred, no-questions-asked fuck fest in my shop. The only thing that could have made it better would have been Bethica's presence, but Susan's surprising role as a catalyst in the whole process was an unexpected and generous source of heat. I came on most of the cocks there, and milked all of them. I ate seven loads out of Susan's pussy, lending her a little spark of energy when she became too fatigued to continue on her own.

We fucked until the men couldn't get it up anymore without my magic, and at that point, while a full succubus could continue ad infinitum, it just didn't make sense for me to push onward. The magical expenditure would require more essence than the tired men could produce, so we called it a night.

Susan asked to crash at the shop, and I stayed there too, huddled together with her under blankets in the break room. We didn't talk about what had happened. We just fell asleep in a tangle of warm limbs, our tits pressed together and her semen-soiled hair tickling my nose.

When I woke up, Susan was gone.

She reappeared clean and refreshed for her next shift, and greeted me with an easy smile and a platonic hug that told me everything was okay. There was no implication that we would ever repeat that wild night, and that was fine, maybe even good. We'd crossed a lot of lines, and I felt relieved that we hadn't erased them completely.

#

A few days later in the break room, Susan told me that she and her wife had often joked about her job, about how she should join in on the load collection. I thought that was cool of her wife, in a way, but Susan leaned in conspiratorially and explained that the full joke was that she needed to work on her head.

"Work on your head?"

"Yeah," said Susan, unclear as to what was unclear. "You know? Blowjobs?"

"Your wife wants you to be better at sucking dudes' cocks?"

"Stina, my wife wants me to be better at sucking HER cock."

"Oh." These things tended to take me a moment. "Oh!"

Susan nodded, extending her palms and giving me a somewhat patronizing "you can figure this out" look.

"Your wife has a cock!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's not, like, that big a deal," she said, almost aggressively.

"Sorry," I said. I took a deep breath. "I don't mean to be weird about your partner. It's all good. Seriously. I just, I really love cocks, and I really love women, so I guess I'm just a little curious about what that's like."

Susan gave me a wry smile and pointed at the harassment policy posted on the break room wall.

"You tease," I whined.

"Ah ah ah," she chided me. "I've said more than enough already, it seems."

She had. She could sense the heat on me. I shook my head and scurried off for a glass of water, and that was the last we talked about Susan's wife's cock.

#

Women entering Juice For Juice on their own never ceased to be a novel experience. We had Jenn Green, we had C. There were the occasional loyalty card redeemers, the occasional reliers on the Load Donor program. But it was still exceedingly rare for a woman to come into the shop on her own, and it always grabbed my attention.

One day, I found myself unable to retrieve my attention.

She was tall, with pitch-black eyes that swallowed me as I met her gaze. She was also remarkable in that she was stark naked and her skin had a metallic sheen. She walked as if on invisible stiletto heels. Her fingertips were rose gold spikes. The air was thick with the swish of her tail, and also the sweet stench of her sexual aura.

"Fucking Hell," I heard Bethica moan.

The entire shop was rapt. Our clientele knew we were succubi, but we looked pretty much like ordinary—if very hot—humans. This woman didn't look like a hot human. She looked like the demon she was, and our customers stayed where they were only because their arousal overpowered their fear.

"You the Solicitor's girl?" Her voice both boomed across the room and rolled gently through my body. My clothes began to literally disintegrate from the heat she stoked in me.

I nodded, dumbly. This succubus knew my mom.

"And you're Erosmendievh's kid?" she asked Bethica, who nodded in turn.

The room must have been over a hundred degrees at that point, as our guest turned every body in the shop into a furnace of want. I couldn't break our eye contact, but I simultaneously couldn't take my eyes off her tits and prominent mons. She must have been projecting images of her sex directly into my brain with her magic. I wanted to fuck her more than I'd ever wanted anything, even Bethica, and I was both amazed and appalled.

"Weird," she said, looking about dismissively. "I would have thought that the dream team's kids would have more to show for themselves, but I guess the rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

She smirked. "There's whispers behind the Solicitor's back, down in Hell, that her kid's a real fuck up. Wastes her days playing human." She paused for effect. "And they say you're both virgins."

"Assuredly not," laughed Bethica, who seemed to be regaining her senses somewhat. I was still struggling to even consider talking.

"Oh dear." Our guest sighed and put her hands on her hips. "So enthralled with the human world that you use their metrics of virginity? What, did you get excited when some drunk human whelp made it past your hymen? Bitch, if you want to be a grown-up in OUR world, you KILL with your pussy."

"Enough," said Bethica. "To what do we owe the honor of your visit, Lady...?"

"Zhaevrilith," said the succubus. "Empress of the Stewardland Division."

The hellscape mirroring Stewardland had always belonged to Bethica's grandfather. I wondered briefly whether this Zhaevrilith had usurped—or worse, mated with—Pop-Pop Maznarex, but the wonder was soon replaced with my continued appreciation of Zhaevrilith's body. It was somehow both perfectly toned and excessively juicy. I was seeing double: both a hard warrior's six-pack and a soft belly. I desperately wanted to grow a cock so that I could rub it against her and ejaculate into the quantum mystery of her tummy. I was beside myself with lust, but I also felt like I was on the edge of an abyss. I teetered there, horrified and ready to fuck. The last remaining scraps of my clothing fell to the floor, sizzling.

I noticed, after a beat, that Zhaevrilith hadn't really answered Bethica's question. She had a flair for the dramatic, and seemed to be waiting to gauge Bethica's reaction to her imperial claim. Bethica responded magnificently, looking at her as if she was an idiot who didn't understand the question. I had no idea where this was coming from, whence what pool of fortitude Bethica was pulling this act, but it mostly just made me want to have a threesome with them. With enough borrowed power, I could grow two cocks...

"Hmm." Zhaevrilith squinted at Bethica. "I suppose you could say that this is a warning. A show of force. I want you bitches to know you'll never be shit so long as you debase yourselves in human la la land, and I want you to feel bad about it."

And feel bad we did. It wasn't just a bunch of words. There was a suggestion in there, a powerful demonic spell that forced our minds to bend to her will. The shop was Bethica's dumb idea. I'd always wanted to follow in my mom's footsteps. With proper training and a coterie of sex slaves I could maybe attain true power someday. Why was I wasting my time playing small-time entrepreneur in Dad's world when I could rule it? Bethica was a moron, but I was the truer idiot for following her. And why? Because I was horny? I could fuck anyone I wanted. Literally any human would have sex with me if I wanted, and there were doubtless hordes of demons who'd fight to the death for a chance to bang the daughter of the Solicitor.

Yet here I was, making what? Smoothies? Basically panhandling for loads instead of just taking what was mine. I was a virgin succubus. I was nothing.

"If you swear yourselves to me, I'll release you from your misery," Zhaevrilith said. I was taken with her thighs. I could bow to her, subject myself to her. It would feel so much better than this horrible mortal life. "As a token of my good will, I'll show you how to grow up."

She glanced about the room, and suddenly all the spells were broken. My breath was shallow as my mind raced. For the first time in my life, I was zero percent horny. I didn't want to fuck Zhaevrilith and I didn't even want to fuck Bethica. I was just scared.

Bethica sensed it too: our ritual was broken. And it wasn't because our magic had been canceled directly. Our territory was asunder.

Zhaevrilith was claiming the spiritual layer of the shop.

And she was suppressing her own aura. Our customers seemed to stir as if from a trance.

"Who wants to die fucking a real succubus?" Zhaevrilith asked the room.

There were no dirty tricks. No seductive magic. To her credit, this was a naked offer. But even with her aura suppressed, she was too hot, and our world is too shitty for no one to find death at the pinnacle of pleasure appealing. A couple men stepped forward.

I didn't want to watch, but I couldn't turn away. Not because of any magic enthralling me. It was the trainwreck effect. I was going to watch this succubus kill a man. I hated that I couldn't even close my eyes.

Bethica held my hand. She was scared, too. For all her earlier posturing, this was too much.

"Please don't," she pleaded.

"Don't what?" asked Zhaevrilith.

"Don't kill them." They didn't do anything. I felt the sentiment through Bethica's hand. I felt her desire. She wanted Zhaevrilith to kill her before any of her customers. Why was Bethica so good? But I didn't have to stop her from offering up her life. She couldn't get the words out. She was in shock. We both were.

One of the guys, one of our regulars, a middle-aged man named Ian who'd fed me about fifty loads over the last year, reached Zhaevrilith first.

"You'll enjoy this," she promised him, taking his hand in her claw.

I cringed. Ian, my dear sweet customer Ian, was going to die. I wanted time to stop so that it would never happen, but it continued mercilessly forward at a tortuously slow pace. If this was going to happen, I wished that it would be over sooner. I didn't want to watch a drawn-out snuff porno.

"So will you," he said.

And only then did I see the cup in his other hand, and remember that he'd already been served. In a flash, he'd shoved his straw into Zhaevrilith's mouth. Surprised, she pulled a sip of his smoothie. Bethica's smoothie. One of our go-to classics, unaltered since our soft launch: peach raspberry.

Zhaevrilith's eyes went wide, and her aura-suppression ended abruptly. Want gripped me again, and I saw it creep over the rest of the room. Ian's cock hardened and he moved between her legs.

In a blur of movement, Zhaevrilith threw him to the ground. His smoothie was in her claw. She tore the lid off with her fangs and guzzled the rest of the drink.