Seducings of a Specious Succubus

("Pairs of Pumpkins Patches'' are standalone, supplemental stories in the "Pairs of Pumpkins" Universe that exist outside of the chapters and timeframe of the main, numbered story. They explore and detail ideas and characters in the world, who may have some secondary or tertiary connection to the cast and events of the Pairs of Pumpkins story, even if they are never bound to intersect with it.)

Ser Thomas's broad, black nose crinkled, his muzzle tilted to the air. Her trail was fresh now and his steel gauntlet-clad right hand slipped across his body to the hilt of his broadsword. He'd brought the torn shirt with him that bore her scent, just in case but he was quite sure he wouldn't forget. It was wild, foreign and natural, unlike the perfumed, city folk he was used to.

He wasn't a tracker by trade. He was a Knight and didn't like nature much at all. The spaces between cities were an annoyance that his line of work often required but he didn't find the appeal in forests or fields, and even preferred monster-infested catacombs to them.

Ser Thomas was a grizzly bear, which gave him a stature well-suited to the martial duties of a knight but also a naturally keen sense of smell. The people of the small town of Zlotz were desperate and this bear would frequently joke that the only thing outsizing his physique was his code of honor.

It was some kind of miracle the Mayor of Zlotz survived the attack. In his study, late at night, his wife had heard a commotion and called for the guards. They kicked open the door to find him in the thrall of a succubus!

Stark white fur and red eyes, they reported, vulpine in form. She'd seduced him fully dressed, with her skirt hiked up high enough to mount him in his office chair and remained dressed until she fled, diving out a third-floor window which was somehow too narrow for the blouse she wore and it ripped right off of her, leaving a convenient scent to follow.

Ser Thomas hadn't seen any of this himself, except for the scene of the crime the next day, including the window she'd jumped from. He'd peaked out of it and it was almost as broad as his pauldron-laiden, broad shoulders. He could fit through it with minimal effort.

"This is the window that ripped her blouse off?"

"She was quite fat," the guards explained.

"That must've been a sight: a big, fat succubus in your mayor's lap. It's a wonder the chair survived." The chair was fine. The Mayor was a groundhog, under five feet. It was a wonder he survived.

"I suppose I would have been dead already, were it not for my daily exercise routine and the gift of extraordinary virility!" The Mayor had declared.

Something was off about the whole story but this wasn't the first he'd heard about this succubus along the south coast. Besides, the 50 extra gold jingling in his coin purse would be doubled upon proof of her death, and the expenses and debts of a knight weren't insignificant.

The forest broke for a towering, rocky formation the size of a barn and he could smell the remnants of a campfire nearby. He didn't have to circle around it far until he found the mouth of a cave, a foot or so above his eye level. Shorter creatures, of whom most were, would have missed it.

The scent was fresh and strong now, both of the extinguished fire and the succubus. He climbed up, his metal plate armor rattling and scraping against the rock before he stood at the top, hunching to clear the low ceiling. There was a bend just ahead and he drew his sword.

"You won't need that," a woman's voice called out and startled him enough to rattle his armor. It was calm and oddly, normal. Not the sultry purr of a seductress or the strange echo demons seemed to always have when they spoke.

"I'll keep it anyway," he called out, louder than she had. "I'm coming in."

"Obviously."

He rounded the corner, blade first and the cave ended, barely wider than a bedroom and half again as deep, with a ceiling mercifully higher than the entrance. He could stand up straight in here.

A fire smoldered in the middle of the cave, but none of that was as interesting as the figure on the far side of it: a white-furred, white-haired, beautiful face of a vixen atop a seated, pyramid of flesh. The entire shape of her was hard to register as a bipedal body and at first glance it wasn't apparent in the dim, ambient light, if she had two arms and two legs, or even a torso. There was her disarming head and a lean neck, then shoulders above a tremendous and indeterminate mass that for a moment, seemed monstrous. What kind of beast was this?

Her eyes were in fact, pinkish-red but they weren't glowing like the Mayor had claimed.

"Welcome to my cave, I guess." The female fox shifted and stood awkwardly with a grunt and some effort, revealing legs in an ankle-length skirt that had been folded beneath her, behind her or both. With a wobble, she righted herself and her odd form started to make sense as a humanoid, with a long sweep of a tail. There were two upper arms but lower than her biceps, they were obscured by the absolutely massive globes of the biggest, bare breasts he'd ever seen in his life.

Upright, she was a bit over five feet and her bosom was half of her height, down to her mid-thighs but from their enormous, impossible radius in all directions more than any kind of pronounced sagging. If anything, the relationship of their rounded form with gravity was defiant. They jutted two feet from her chest, not much less than she'd be able to reach forward, and they were far wider than her shoulders. The blouse situation made more sense now.

"By the Gods..."

She must have heard that before, perhaps with different intonations. Her scowl showed she picked up on the pity and disgust dripping from his version of it.

They were silent for a moment.

"Yes, I'm a freak. I'm well-aware. Not all freaks are demons."

The vixen wasn't just being sassy: it was like he'd worn the thought on his face. If she was an adult, it was a recent development. He finally pulled his eyes back to hers. She looked so young.

"I'm an adult freak." Was he so obvious?

"I have your shirt," He gestured down to where it hung from his belt.

"Should I put it on before or after you kill me? You might need a longer sword if you're planning on running me through.."

He narrowed his eyes. She didn't seem like a succubus.

"You don't seem like a succubus."

A succubus should be trying harder. He'd met women who relied on their charm and guile, masters of seduction. Others might play up their innocence and naivety to their advantage. He'd never met a succubus but imagined one of those would be their reliable tactics. This girl was neither: she was cold, crass and kind of awkward.

"That one again. I'm guessing that shrimp-dicked groundhog sent you."

The fox started around the fire but stopped when his posture tensed. "You don't need your sword. Look at me: I'm slow."

He didn't need his sword, so he slid it back into his scabbard and she approached. "That's better." How did she do that? She continued to him until she was close enough to turn half-sideways and extend a hand toward him, palm up.

Her presence was strangely calming and it certainly wasn't her absurd appearance that was doing it. He thought to draw his sword again but couldn't. He wasn't restrained physically. His arm simply wasn't responding to that particular command.

"Now this is something I would expect of a demon," he growled.

"The entire catalog of abilities beyond common comprehension belong solely to demons who feed off of sexual energy? You've never seen a wizard cast a spell or a priest magically mend wounds?"

"Of course I have."

"Of course you have." She dropped her waiting arm at her side. "I'm stopping an armed intruder in my home from pulling out his weapon. You think that makes me a monster?"

"How are you doing it?"

"Stop trying to draw your sword and we can talk about it. Or you can turn around and walk out of here. I don't care."

Was this something a succubus would do or say?

"Wouldn't a succubus be something men find attractive? Because your face is telling me you think I'm disgusting."

He gave the slightest of nods. "Why then, is that the story people tell about you?"

"Judging from your fancy armor, you're no stranger to the circles of power that deal in rumors and lies. Calling me a sex demon is a good cover for married men who get caught with me. They couldn't help it. No normal woman could look like this. All it took was a creative story from one Lord somewhere down south and suddenly every rich piece of shit has an excuse to get away with it."

Ser Thomas pulled the blouse from his belt and handed it to her. She took it then she stepped back. "So you're some kind of mistress of the wealthy?"

"No, I'm there to rob their homes."

"You? A thief?"

She shrugged on the blouse, confirming she did in fact have two, full arms and hands. "I walk in at night and usually, people just manage to avoid me."

"That's hard to believe."

She straightened it over her shoulder, examining the seams in the front where there should be buttons, visually at the top and by feel beyond the apex of her chest. They must have been scattered when the blouse burst. "Dammit. Do you know how hard it is to find one of these that fits?"

Fit was a generous word. The shirt was clearly intended for someone closer to his height but quite a bit bigger around. "I imagine it's not easy."

"It's not." She looked back up to his eyes, then over the pouches on his belt and around to the small pack on his back. "Do you have a sewing kit?"

"You walk right in to secure homes and people ignore you, even though you look like you do."

"Most ignore me. The stronger willed ones like you notice." A hint of a coy grin on her muzzle raised his hackles. But she wasn't a succubus. Or a threat. He was oddly certain.

"Relax. You look safe enough. You were hired to do a job and now you know I'm just an innocent girl."

"You're not innocent. You're a thief and a homewrecker."

The vixen pursed her mouth and shook her head. "I'm more of a mansion-wrecker. And I only steal from those with too much." She presented her outstretched arms to the cave, empty save for a large coin purse and a bag with two loaves of bread sticking out of it. "Clearly, I'm not living an extravagant life with what I take. Just take you're take your fifty gold and hit the road."

This was all wrong. How did she know...

"...about the fifty gold? Same reason you put your sword away so fast." She stepped closer, the breastflesh of her open blouse crushing against his plate armor before she reached up to tap his forehead, her muzzle leaned close. His body was frozen. "Because I'm in your head."

He clenched his eyes then opened them again.

She sighed and withdrew. "I'm not imaginary. I'm psychic."

"You're..."

"What's your name?"

That's not..."

"...Thomas Antioch."

His spine straightened and his brows lifted. Tensing again, his hand returned to the hilt of his sword.

"Sorry. SER Thomas Antioch. Calm down. We already ruled out that I'm a demon or a threat. I'm just a psychic. If I were a succubus, I'd be making you think I looked like someone you'd actually want to fuck. And don't give me any of that chivalrous 'I don't fuck' bullshit. You fuck."

He exhaled long and loud. "Psychic? Like magic?"

"Not like magic. You have to study magic. Whatever I have, I was born with.Have you not noticed how well I can anticipate what you're about to say?"

He lowered his muzzle and flattened his ears. "Get out of my head."

Her nose raised in stern defiance. "Then get out of my house."

"Not yet."

"Then deal with it." She turned away and headed back to her bedroll. "I'm a freak, obviously. It's probably related." With a shrug, she eased herself back to the ground. "Maybe my mother or father were some kind of demon or monster. I never met either of them. I have no way to know. But it's natural. I didn't train for any of this."

He considered for a moment, his reaction had not helped, then opened his mouth to backpedal but she beat him to it.

"Yes, I am a freak. You think I can just walk into villages looking like this and everything is going to be fine for me? You think I can stroll into a tavern and get a job slinging pints of ale when I can hardly use my fucking arms? Let alone be in a room with people who aren't dumbstruck leering at me, asking me stupid questions about back pain or assuming I'm some kind of whore because of the way my body developed?"

"You had intimate relations with the Mayor of Zlotz. A married man. And others."

She threw up her hands. "I've fucked a lot of married men but I don't MAKE them do it. And this life only came about when trying to have a normal one failed catastrophically. I live on the fringes of society, hiding from everyone. I have to steal to survive so I steal from the people who don't need it. Sometimes I leave a little damage. So what?" With a sigh, she slumped. "You can sit down if you want. Or leave. I don't care." She rolled onto her side and crawled over to the bag with the bread.

He remained standing, his eyes followed as she turned away from him, stealing a glance at her much more normal-sized rump.

With her hand on the bag, she paused and looked over her shoulder. For the first time, she cracked a smile. "Ahhh, you're an ass man," she raised a brow.

How had she seen that with her back to him? Of course she knew. She said she was psychic and she'd already proven it. She gave her rump an obvious wiggle and her brows a waggle before dragging the pack back to her bedroll, still on her hands and knees.

"It's okay to think about it. I know it's not only me that men objectify and women can be the same way. Sex and physical attraction is a normal urge most people have. I wouldn't care about it if they still treated me like a person. It's nice to know I have an angle you don't find repulsive."

His codpiece was tighter now at her presentation and acknowledgement. She was correct: he was an ass man. As a Knight, he'd taken a vow of celibacy but the knights of his order whispered of the unspoken exceptions and technicalities.

He was generally attracted to females but as a teenage squire, he'd lost his virginity in some high hormone experimentation with an effeminate boy, in one such technical, secret, non-violation.

It had been mostly women since. Occasional, doe-eyed villagers were drawn to his power, prestige and strength, or wanting to show gratitude with the limited tools available to them. He was forbidden from proper sex but everyone he knew well enough to discuss seemed to agree hands, mouths and asses didn't count.

He tried to deny those advances enough to ease his conscience but frequently ended up with something wrapped around his enormous bear cock. Nothing compared to the clenching sensation of a tight asshole, and when someone insisted on "anything he wanted" they often wound up bent over, squealing in strain and regret.

"It's always something kinky with you righteous types. But we like what we like. At least they consent," she shrugged and offered him a piece of broken bread.

He was red and damp under his fur now. Knowing she was reading his thoughts made it hard to resist the worst ones. He had self-control but his codpiece was full and straining. The metal ensured she couldn't see but did she know? A spark in her eyes confirmed she did. He leaned forward and took the bread, chewing and swallowing it while she watched and waited.

"Are you making me think these thoughts?"

"You don't need my help to think about butts."

"Yet you tease me, like a slut."

The vixen shrugged. "What's that even mean? A woman who likes sex? How many doe-eyed village girls whose names you don't know have sucked your dick? How many strangers have taken you in their assholes?" She took a bite, then took her time finishing it without breaking eye contact.

"That's what I thought. At least you get to go out and interact with polite society, pretending you aren't thinking about buttfucking. For me, sex is the only kind of normal, social interaction I get. Ironically, it's the only time people might not remind me what a freak I am."

He was silent, studying her. Pitying her.

She sighed and her gaze fell to the floor. "I get to live vicariously through others sometimes. The whole psychic thing. But the range isn't that far and if I'm not hiding when I do it, I just get a lot of 'wow, look at those enormous, freak tits!'"

A hair of a smile cracked her muzzle and she looked back up to him. "The two go together pretty well. Having sex with someone who's reading your mind is incredible. I know because I'm reading their minds when we do it. I know what they want and predict their every move, so it's like nothing they've ever experienced. For some of the geezers I've been with, fucking me might be the happiest they'll ever be. That part is fun."

She finished her last bite of bread before she planted her hands and pushed herself off the ground again, an awkward, shifting strain, struggling with her own bulk and weight. A sigh of relief spoke to the effort it took her, as she unfolded to full height. "The best thing though: I'm not only a telepath but an empath too.The range is shorter but close enough. I can hear your conflicted thoughts but it's much more interesting how I can feel how your skin is so flush with heat under all that fur. How your heart is racing behind that big plate of armor. How your fat, bear dick is outgrowing your codpiece at a rate you're going to need to do something about soon."

The vixen had gotten near enough to him to give the bucket-sized, metal cup of his groin a tap with her claw before he seized her wrist. She may be reading his mind but he was faster.

"Not a succubus indeed."

"Let go," she commanded and he obliged without thinking. She stepped back out of reach. "Here I thought we were connecting. Such a knightly way of thinking, that the only way a woman might desire sex is if she was a demon. Otherwise it's something we tolerate to service powerful men like you. I appreciate the decorum of your position, but I assure you: there's no one here but us. And you hold no secrets from me."

She took the hems of her blouse and shrugged it back off, then her hands disappeared under the colossal heft of her bosom. Only after her skirt slackened, was it clear what she was up to.

"Like I was saying, when I do something that shouldn't be very appealing, like say, fucking a groundhog three times my age, I just jump in his head for the ride, feeling every sensation like it were mine. A ride I'm already in his thoughts for, doing everything exactly what he wants. I get to feel what it's like for a man who sleeps in a separate bed from his decrepit wife, to fuck an eighteen year old with gigantic tits. And the Mayor, I assure you, IS a breast man. Suddenly, it's not so gross. Even he was surprised how hard his dick got." After the blind fumbling with her fly, she shimmied out of her skirt. If she was wearing underwear, her breasts were in the way of his view.

"So you did go there to wreck the Mayor's home."

"No, I told you: I went there to rob it. I seduced the Mayor so I wouldn't go to prison and it worked because he's a creep. Actually enjoying it is what makes it bearable, with his type. The pleasure is not mine. The pleasure I experience is all his."

She gave him a once-over again, her grin widening as she started to circle him. "You're bear-able." Her tongue smacked and she huffed a chuckle.

Eyes narrowed and he reached for his sword again but she slapped his hand. "Stop it. We're not going to fight. You're free to go, if that's what you want."

He didn't move and her smile returned. "So I guess in that regard, I'm lucky. How many girls actually get to feel what you feel? The pleasure of a handjob? A blow job?" She stopped and chewed on her lower lip. "A big, bear dick in her ass?"