tagErotic HorrorMy Mother, the Succubus

My Mother, the Succubus


My first attempt at writing this kind of story. Hopefully any readers out there enjoy it. Please feel free to write any comments you might have are any suggested areas of improvement. But please keep your criticism constructive. Want to give a shout out to the author GP Lockwood, loving your stories that I wanted to start my own. Added your name as the surname of the protagonist, I hope you don't mind.

The following story is purely fictional (obviously) all involved are over the age of 18. I guess it is classified as erotic horror because of the succubus theme, but will feature many categories, including mind control, incest, fantasy, non-human, group, bondage, anal and mild non-consent. If this isn't you particular cup of tea, please don't read further.

This chapter is really to get a feel of how it is received, if I get a few interested readers, I will continue the story, as I'm sure you will discover as you read, there is much more to come. This chapter is only edited by me, so apologies for any mistakes I made. If there is an editor out there feeling like editing future chapters, please let me know. Enjoy!

My Mother, the Succubus. – Chapter 1

"Mr. Lockwood?"

Involuntarily, a shiver ran down my spine. I missed a step and nearly stumbled at the name. Surely, my mind immediately, and juvenilely, concluded, They cannot be referring to me...

I hurriedly continued down the hallway, ignoring the concierge as best I could. Bumping past an elderly couple dressed like they intended to visit the hotel's sauna.

"Mr. Lockwood!" came the next call, and this time, the bottom of my stomach seemed to drop from my body. Every horror and fear my panicked mind had imagined for the last five years seemed to bubble to the surface. Half my brain seemed bent on flight, my legs beginning to bend to spring me into a run. The other half of my mind raged up, defiantly ready to argue and fight. My expression must have been almost threatening, as the concierge did a double take as he finally caught up to me.

"Sir, I..." he stammered hesitantly, before regaining his composure, "Mr. Lockwood, are you alright?"

"Stop calling me that!" I snapped, "How do you know that name? Where did you hear it!" Seeing his uncertainly pushed my mind into anger. "I specifically left no surname when I checked in, that was crucial!"

"I... I'm sorry sir, I didn't know. My manager told me your name. I apologise, I meant no offence."

I glared at the young man, who looked only a year younger at most than my 18 years. I had had more than enough practice at being alone though. I knew well how to handle myself. "How did he know it? It was he to whom I requested that I not be known by anything than Alexander."

"Sir, he asked me to send you to him urgently when I saw you. He said you had a reply to your letter."

Another shiver ran down my spine at the implications. Flight screamed through my mind again; a desperate need to run and not look back. Had the enemy found me at long last?

The concierge gestured for me to follow, and I numbly did, though my eyes danced around the hotel lobby, looking anywhere for a sign that something was wrong, that something was out of place...

My mind wandered to the short letter I had sent, the only correspondence of any kind I had sent in my 5 years of hiding;

Rosie, Happy 18th birthday, my wonderful twin. I miss you always. A.J.

Was that enough to ruin my desperate attempt at saving my own life? My constant fear and vigilance? Had it all been undone my a single moment of human weakness?

I was lead to the staff doorways and led through the bowels of the hotel until I came to an impressive polished wooden door with the word ManagerJohn Deans inscribed on it. The concierge entered without knocking, and a concerned looking elderly man waited for me, wearing a pleasant maroon suit.

Mr Deans stood, and nodded his head with what looked to be sympathy, "As I thought, you are indeed Alexander Lockwood."

I chose not to answer, instead noted the open winder to the right, my nearest escape point.

"I take it you are wondering how we knew such a thing. You received a reply to your letter, a rather desperate one at that."

Of course they are desperate my mind thought, they cannot find me, I have evaded my enemy... Instead, I chose my words more carefully, "I left no return address, and I made sure none was marked when the concierge posted it."

"I remember the request, yes," the manager replied softly. "Our envelopes are watermarked with our hotel brand, 'Central Resorts Inc.' A few days after we send your letter, a reply was send to our national office, pleading our entire chain of hotels to try and locate the sender, a young man named Alexander Jacob's.

Typical, I thought, they will try anything. They might not yet know where I am, I still have time to escape, I cannot afford to be so careless again...

The reply came from the uneasy looking Mr Deans when silence was all the responded he got from me, "The response came from your sister, a miss Tara Lockwood..."

"What!" I snapped, "Tara? What did she say? What's happened?"

My mind flooded with worry. My father had told me it was only me they sought. Would they take my sister if they couldn't have me?

The manager produced a piece of paper with the printed email reply. I snatched it quickly, and saw the reply below a photo of my letter,

Dear Central Resorts Inc. I beg of you to help me. I received a letter from one of your hotels from somewhere around the country from my brother, Alexander Lockwood. It was addressed to my baby sister Rosie. Alex ran away from home when he was 13, five years ago, and has been missing ever since. But now I need him to come home as there has been a terrible car crash. My mother and our other sister Amelia were killed, and Rosie is in Intensive Care. They don't think she will make it. With our father gone as well, Alex is the only family we have left. Please, have mercy, if you know where he is, please contact me or let him know we need him at home urgently. Please help us. Tara Lockwood.

My knees started trembling and my hands began to shake as I fought back tears. Amelia... no, not Amelia. My mothers death didn't even register as a shock. I felt nothing for her. She had always hated me, always stalked and raged at me. It was like I was a burden to her, a tumour. I shed no sympathy for her passing, but my sisters were where the love that remained in my heart was divided.

Especially for my twin... "Rosie..." I whispered.

I had to check, I had to see her. Rosie, my best friend and dearest sister... the thought was indescribable.

It could have been a trap, elaborate but possible, but I didn't want to live if my sisters were lost to this world.

"Mr. Deans, I would like to check out please."


The flight was short, thankfully, and soon I was back in my home state of Colorado. I missed the warmth of the south I had just vacated, as when I left the airport I was immediately assaulted by the cold wind of the coming winter.

The plane fair was easily covered, and my backpack still carried at least half the multitude of cash it once carried when it was given to me five years ago. My father, Robert, had taught me well in my youth. News of his death was of no shock to me, he had been preparing me for it for years. He had died the night of my escape, or very shortly after it. A more noble a man, or more loving father there never was, but whatever evil force or disease ate at him had slowly deteriorated him to the point of looking more skeleton than man.

"One day I will come to you Alex, and on that day, you must run and never look back. A great evil hunts you, and I can do nothing else for you but prepare you for it... when I can steal some moments of silence in my mind. It can never know of what we are preparing you for. It can never know you are preparing yourself to escape its grasp... When that day comes, Alex, don't look for me, don't wait for me, for I shall be dead, but you shall be free. Never stop running Alex... Never stop running..."

There were times in my youth that Dad had looked to barely recognise me, or ignore me and my sisters. There where times when he seemed in such pain or so lost in his own mind that he would never return to normal, but somehow he always managed, the light of love would return to his eyes and he was himself again, free from his burdens. It was during those times, he seemed his weakest, but he trained and taught me most clearly. I never knew what, but it was the evil that now hunted me.

My father had died for me to live. Family comes first told me. Now that my twin was dying, I wondered if he would agree with my decision to return to my home, prepared to make such a sacrifice for her...

So lost was I in thought that before I knew it, the taxi was rolling to a stop out the front of my old house.

"No!" I cried, "Please take me a bit further up the road!"

"But you told me house number 112?" the driver complained.

"I know, but I don't want them to see me, it's... it's a surprise." I muttered, fear rising in my gut again.

I saw the driver roll his eyes in the rear-view mirror, but nodded and rolled down the road a further mile.

I paid the man and climbed out, my travellers backpack on my shoulder. Snow has already fallen in this area, and the early evening light painted it grey and cool. I threw off my pack and buried it under a nearby hedge of the closest house and covering it up with snow as best I could, before slowly walking back they way I had come.

A quick glance down the street in both directions, and I ducked into the yard of the house neighbouring my own. I made my way as quietly as I could to the side fence and climbed over. I was not what you would call bulky or heavily muscled, but I was lean and fast, and much stronger than I looked. Scaling the fence was child's play, and I made my way into the back yard, peaking through the side fence at my old house the whole time.

Nothing had changed. It was still the same grey, depressing house I remembered from my dreams. No joy or color or sign of life other than the tough trees in the backyard that never seemed to change.

A warm light was on in the lower level of the two storey house, where I remember the kitchen to be. I couldn't see much from my angle, but was reluctant to move lest I be discovered. So after an hour of watching impatiently, darkness finally crept over completely.

Rubbing my hands quickly in a vain attempt to fight the cold, and growing increasingly annoyed at my pour vantage point, I finally climbed over the fence and landed silently in our old backyard, blending into the shadows of the grey trees.

I had chosen my timing well. Lights would blind whoever resided inside the house to anything in the darkness beyond. I waited patiently for a sign of movement, always checking my nearest exits.

That's when I heard it. The phone in the house rang. I peaked around the edge of the tree to get a better look.

Tara came dancing into the well-lit kitchen, or what I thought was Tara. The years had been generous! Tara, who now would be twenty-two had the tall figure of a ballet dancer, trim, fit and firm with muscle without taking away from her striking femineity. Her light brown hair was tied into a firm bun, and her tight leggings and top displayed more of her form than Alex felt comfortable with, revealing both a perky rear and the small breasts of an athlete.

As Tara answered the phone, my eyes widened when Amelia walked in behind her, wearing a baggy woollen shirt that looked like it might better suit a woodcutter than a twenty year old girl. Amelia looked to be wearing only panties and socks other than the baggy shirt and her attention was focused on her cell phone. She had long blonde hair and was at least a head shorter than her elder sister, though what Tara has in trim edge, Amelia made up for in subtle curves of soft skin. Her breasts, even covered by the baggy shirt, were noticeably larger than her elder sister.

Panic washed through me. Amelia was still alive! It was a trap! He should have known better! Dread fascination and curiosity held me there longer than my caution told me I should. Five years I had been on the run, since I had been only 13. Now I was seeing my family again, all alive and unharmed by the evil that only sort me... and now I had put them in danger.

That thought finally had me pry my eyes off my two grown up sisters and started to pull back deeper into the woods when he heard Tara's musical voice call, "Rosie! It's for you!"

I spun and saw only red eyes glaring at me and an evil grin, before blackness took me...


My head throbbing was the first sign I got to tell me I still lived. The grogginess was slow to fade, but finally my mind began to reawaken.

My fear hit me next. Followed very closely by anger at myself, anger at my stupidity. I had been played in the most basic way. A mistake like that was inexcusable.

A pain in my neck told me that my head was hanging down, and I lifted it carefully, glad the ache in my neck eased quickly, but that was the only joy I was to find.

I suddenly became aware of the uncomfortable position of my arms. They were pulled backwards and crossed over behind my back, secured there with something that felt like leather. A similar leather throng ran under my arms and encircled my chest, holding me firmly against the stone wall. My shoes had been removed, and my bare ankles were similarly secured against the wall, though spread apart awkwardly.

I stood on a soft warm rug, but other than that, my surroundings were lost in darkness.

"Hello?" I called softly, before going for broke, "Is anybody there? Somebody help me! Help me!"

I cried over and over but no sound response was heard. Soon I gave up when my voice tired and I was left alone to wallow in my miserable failure.

After an hour or so, it was too hard to tell precisely, a bolt shifted and I heard a heavy door being pulled open. It closed again quickly, and light suddenly flooded the room.

I blinked against the sudden light, my eyes watering painfully. "If your going to kill me, get on with it! I am tired of running! Of only half living!"

A soft chuckle I recognised answered me, "Kill you, my boy? Good gracious, why would I do that?"

My eyes finally adjusted and before me stood my mother, aged as terribly as my sisters had beautifully. She had wavy brown hair scattered haphazardly with greys, but in a tangled, furry mess. Her eyes carried deep bags, like she hadn't sleep in weeks, and her skin carried many new lines and wrinkles. She had put on a substantial amount of weight, but she was still recognisable to me, her lifeless, dead eyes still held only contempt. She wore a simple black silk dressing gown that she held tightly closed matching fluffy black slippers.

"Mom? What is going on? Get me out of here! I have to leave!"

The sinking feeling in my chest seemed to understand the situation before my mind.

"Leave? No..." she said, stepping forward, "Too long have I hunted you. Too long have I been denied my prize."

Helplessness washed over me, "You... what... how can it be you?" I struggled a against my bonds in vain.

My eyes glanced around the room out of habit, searching for an exit, but I saw only the heavy door through which she entered. The room looked to be a stone dungeon, but the supporting concrete columns revealed the load above, and I knew we were now in an ancient basement of her home above.

Mom seemed to barely notice my fear, my panicked glances, instead she make a slow, steady progress towards me.

"Oh, how I have waited for you. How much time I have lost, how this body has decayed... Now finally the male of my flesh has returned to me..."

Fear overwhelmed me, and suddenly I was screaming, "Fuck you, bitch! What the fuck are you?"

Amusement met her eyes finally, and her eyes flicked from my torso to mine. "What am I?"

She reached me and ran a hand down my chest, and even through my shirt and sweater I could feel the heat coming from her hands. She reached up and took the zip of my sweater in her hands, and slid it slowly down until it came undone,

"What are you going to do to me? Kill me?"

Mom shook her heard in disbelief, "Kill you? Still so clueless. Just like your worthless father."

"What happened to him? Did you kill him? What happened?" I demanded, my desperation driving anger into my voice.

A half smile overcame her, as she grasped my chin and turned my head this way and that, as if examining me. He strength was unbelievable. "Kill him? In a manner of speaking... I harvested him. His soul, his essence was consumed. He was already so weak... I had feasted on his essence for so long already. When he fought me, I failed to realise it wasn't to kill me, but only to allow you time to escape. Once you were gone, there was no more reason to let the lingering threads of essence go to waste.

"Harvested? Consumed? What the fuck are you talking about?" I shouted, constantly struggling against me bonds, desperate to attack this woman, this witch before me.

Mom released my face, and with both hands grasped my sweater and shirt. With comical ease she tore them away as if they were but paper.

"What the fuck!"

"Hush!" she snarled, and for a moment I swear her eyes turned red, but they were their normal brown before I was certain. In only a moment longer she tore away my pants and boxers, leaving me standing before her totally naked and open to her.

"Still don't know what happened that night, do you..."

As she stared at my manhood, a hunger came into her eyes, as if she had been waiting for this moment her whole life. "I was denied my blood feast then, I will not be denied it now! Too long have I waited! It should have been mine! It will be mine! I will have it now!"

Mom's eyes flicked upward and examined my tight chest and abs, "Never had I imagined how well you would have grown. I can... see your soul... like a glowing light. It is frightened, it is angry, but it is strong. Stronger you could guess. My body did its work well..."

Mom stepped back and with a quick movement, her silk gown fell to the floor. My shock and terror rendered me unable to even scream...

Before me stood the naked body of an overweight middle aged woman, but what sucked my breath from my body were the onyx black tattoos, bones and ribs that were clearly visible in the low light. She looked to be encased in a bizarre sex suit that moved and shrivelled and flexed with her bodies natural movements. Her sagging breasts and puffy nipples leaked a black ooze from them that ran down her chest and stomach. Her pussy was smooth, but the second living skin of shinnying black seemed to encase it too. Small black pointed wings that reminded me of a bat graced her back. By the time my eyes reached her face again, her eyes really did have a noticeable red glow to them.

Mom stepped forward, slowly, and once she reached my body and robbed her hands lightly over me and took a deep breath through her nose, as if savouring the scent of my naked body, "I am going to tear a part of your soul free, and consume it. I have hungered for it since before you were even conceived. How I have waited, how I have wasted away, and now, finally, here you stand, your soul, your essence on a platter before me..."

I watched as her hands snaked down her demonic body and began rubbing her sex. Her fingers played and rubbed her clit while the fingers of her other hand slipped into her pussy. She was soon gasping for breath and moaning, but my body failed to respond. I had never been more repulsed. But soon, like the inevitable tides, the smell of her sex reached my nose and I soon caught myself leaning against my bonds to smell more of the tantalising perfume.

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