Succubus: Geek Whisperer

"No, it's fine. We're both grown-ups. I want to find out what happens," he said. I just bet you do, I thought. The heat was rolling off him. I gently pulled at my top, to make sure maximum cleavage was on display, then leant onto his shoulder. As we watched the story unfold, with various graphic scenes, I slowly manoeuvred myself so I could stroke his legs. I wasn't sure that he'd noticed, until I lifted my hand back off his thigh. "No, don't stop," he said.

I looked at him. "I thought you weren't interested," I said.

He laughed, then leant forwards and kissed me gently on the forehead. Later, I found out that he hadn't want to rush me and scare me away - insecurities from a previous relationship. Boy, had he misjudged me! I slid my hand up to his dick and began stroking it through the material of his trousers, and bent my head up for a proper kiss. As our tongues danced, I unzipped his jeans, then bent down to take him in my mouth. He slid his hand down my back, and fingered me from behind as I sucked him off, while he watched his tentacle porn.

We didn't see much of the rest of the convention.

///

Those six months or so that Joe and I spent together were some of the happiest for me, both before and since I died. We enjoyed each other's company, be that gaming or fucking. I started to think that maybe I could hang around for a while, make a go of it, and worry about the future later.

Christmas came around, and Joe had to go home to his family. But he couldn't take me with him. "Surely you'd want to see your own," he said. I could hardly tell him that they thought I'd died in that bath, but I also couldn't bring myself to lie to him about something so personal. So off he flew to his family on the other side of the world, leaving me in the house-share. I was expecting to be alone, but the other couple had decided they couldn't be apart for the holidays, so it was just the three of us - not that I think they even noticed I was there, they were so into each other. Not used to being ignored, I took to wearing less and less round the house, trying to provoke a reaction, until I was strutting round in my filthiest lingerie. When they were together, they pretended not to notice; but I did catch his eyes following me across the lounge once, and even saw her blush and look away. Interesting.

Nights though were hard. They had so much sex, more even than me. I was amazed that they never got bored of each other. During the first couple of nights I snuck out to feed, but it was slim pickings during the holiday season, and I didn't fancy doing the tramps and drunks even for basic sustenance. I was also slightly delusional about Joe, and had this stupid notion about saving myself for him, rather denying the reality of my own situation. So lay in my bed, listening to them fucking, stroking my pussy and bringing myself off over and over again. But while I could make myself cum, could still enjoy my own orgasms, I can't feed from my own pleasure. I was losing energy, and I could feel the presence of the Mother demanding her tribute.

With my back against the wall, separating me from their room, I could hear them the most clearly, and feed from what scraps I could draw through from them. Suddenly, the feeding got much stronger, I could see their auras. Gratefully, I fed, and by the taste I realised they were both thinking of me, while they fucked each other!

Well, that kind of compliment deserved a reward. I pulled on some red stockings, tied a red ribbon around my waist into a bow, and stuck a couple of gift-box bows onto my nipples, and headed for their room. The door was ajar, and they were in a 69, oblivious to me watching. He was fantasising about me blowing him, and she was getting off on the thought of me flicking her clit with my tongue. I couldn't help but finger myself while watching them at work, slick with sweat and glowing in the candlelight.

"Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?" I asked, standing like Santa's naughty little helper in the doorway.

"We thought you'd never come," she replied, beckoning me over.

"Believe me, I've cum a lot, and the night is still young," I replied. I stood before them as they untied my bow. "Merry Christmas," I said, leaning forward to kiss him and then kneeling at his feet. She joined me at his rather impressive cock, and we licked and sucked at him together, French kissing round the tip of him, until he could take no more and gave us his blessing. His girlfriend and I kept swapping his cum back and forth, both swallowing a little at a time, licking it from each other's lips as it tried to escape.

"Shit, that's the hottest thing I've ever seen!" he said.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," I said, pulling his girl down over me on the bed, lowering her pussy to my lips. She didn't hesitate, and leant forward to suck and lick on my clit as I ate her. Well, we had to do something while he recovered his stamina. She had a talent for pussy eating, almost as good as the Bestie, and I could feel her lips smile as I screamed my orgasm into her pussy, before redoubling my own efforts. Then I saw his huge cock directly over my face, and broke off to suck on the end.

"Take it," he said, and I opened my mouth. He slid in as far as he dared, and rocked himself in and out. But I was no ordinary girl, I didn't need to breathe, and couldn't choke. I grabbed his ass and pulled that monster into my throat, with his balls slapping my eyes. I sucked and swallowed, working his cock.

"Holy fucking shit," he said. It was my turn to smile, but that was hard to do round the base of his cock. He worked up a rhythm in my mouth, and I hummed my pleasure onto his dick.

"Hey, don't leave me out," she said, breaking off from my pussy. He slid out of my mouth again, positioned his cock at her entrance and slid all the way back in in one go. "Yeeeahh," she said, and went back to work on my clit. I had an amazing view of her cunt being stretched by that monster; her walls being pulled out a little as he thrusted. I licked at her clit and lips and his cock as they worked together, him bringing more of her cream out to me with each withdrawal. I fed, and fed, and she couldn't take any more, and came, and that brought him too, and I ate it all. It had been months since I'd felt so full and so happy.

"What the fuck?" came a voice from the doorway. Joe's voice.

He'd come back early, to surprise me. But the surprise was on him.

At that moment, my dearest wish was that I could feed on anger, like some other succubi I knew could do. I could have feasted on his rage, and maybe even his sadness, taken it all away from him, and lived for a month. Instead, I had to look at that face, his poor heart broken, and contemplate where exactly I was going to spend New Year. Somehow, I knew I wouldn't be welcome here any more.

I guess I'm fated for my relationships to end in disaster. There's always the chance I could lose control and consume someone completely. More likely, if I stayed around for years, they'd notice I wasn't aging, or they'd (rightly) suspect I was sneaking off to have affairs. No, the attached life was not for me. I couldn't even keep contact with friends. I'd been avoiding the Bestie since my transformation - she'd thought I'd died; it was heart-breaking to watch her from the shadows at my funeral. (But boy, did she look hot in that black dress, inappropriate though that thought might have been). Now she was a 40-year-old mum of three, with an average husband in an average house. I could hardly turn up looking not a day older than when we last met. And Mum and Gramps? I couldn't show myself to Gramps, the shock would have finished him off. And I just couldn't face Mum. Thank fuck she'd identified me during the day, when I was literally dead to the world; I couldn't have acted my way through that (like some I knew had had to). Steve's Master and his contacts arranged the rest - closed casket, the works.

It still hurts me to think of how it ended with Joe. I hadn't meant to hurt him. But it taught me a valuable lesson - don't fall in love with your prey.

///

I stood in the great hall, watching my people walking past. Spider-Man crawled by, with big eyes taking in all that was going on. Batman escorted Wonder Woman across a walkway, and just past them I saw Akira and Lara Croft in deep conversation. That familiar ozone and copper smell filled the air, along with popcorn and candyfloss and other delights, and all around me the sounds of electronic chip music.

These were my people, and I knew how they worked. I'd walk around, feeding from the attention. I'd let them take their photos - and more recently, their selfies - with me. I'd play the games, let them challenge me, and sometimes even let them win. And I'd keep my eyes open for ideal prey. Virgins were the sweetest, since they had no expectations and were eager to please; I could eat my way through several a day. Simple enough to befriend them over a game, then sneak into a quiet spot outside the main arena for a quick BJ; usually they'd blow their wad in under thirty seconds and I could get back in to look for my next target. For the nights, I'd have found a likely lad - or occasionally, couple - during the day, and we'd hook up at the bar and then retire to their room in the hotel for a feast.

There are arseholes in every group of course, but I find the geeks so welcoming. Never questioning my talents or motives, super-happy to talk about our mutual hobbies. And back in the day, in the 90s and 2000s before geek/nerd culture went mainstream, always so grateful for the attention. Gratitude meant frequent feeding opportunities.

So, this is my current life - cam girl cosplayer. I reckon I can keep it up for maybe five years or so, maybe morph into some other kind of influencer on the way. Suck up as much power as I can for the duration. But one day, people will start to realise I'm not aging. The downside of being famous is that people notice things about you. I'd need to drop out of the public eye and find some other way to feed myself, before making a comeback years down the line. I like the idea of cosplaying as my own daughter.

Maybe I'll become a writer. Clearly there's a market for reading about exploits like mine. Thousands of people round the world, reading my stories and re-imagining my adventures, getting a thrill from them. Masturbating to my words and deeds, thinking about me. Lusting after me. As you lay there, sticky and spent, I thank you for wanting me.

For feeding me.

THE END