The Glassblower's Apprentice

Harold dumped the sand into the furnace, along with some finely ground waste glass and a few extra powders. While he waited for that mixture to melt together, he moved to the adjacent furnace where the glass had already formed a glowing taffy. He was glad it all appeared to melt smoothly, but he couldn't ditch the suspicion that he had maken a mistake.

As he used a long tube and a set of molds to blow bottles from the molten glass, he snuck a peek at the busty, blonde-haired Chandrelle as she crafted a masterpiece on the other side of the room. Having been half-employee and half-apprentice for two months, Harold could hardly imagine himself crafting the kind of finely textured decorative pieces she spent much of the day cultivating. Steady spinning, careful blowing, the perfectly even application of colored dots of molten glass, and the usage of dozens of tools and techniques... The results were downright astounding, and the speed at which she worked was even more so.

And Chandrelle was such a delight to be around too. Every evening when he went to his apartment alone, he missed the glassworks and Chandrelle's joyful attitude. She was always eager to help him when he had questions about his work, always had great jokes, and was always interested to hear about Harold's personal life...

Also she had great tits.

Harold grabbed an old newspaper; it had some front page article about that succubus prostitute. Whatever her deal was, he wasn't interested. Well, maybe a little...

"Ooh, interested in last week's issue?" Chandrelle asked after making a quick glance. "I wonder why..."

Harold looked away from the modestly dressed but still suggestive succubus photo on the front page.

"Just seeing how old this one was. I think this one's from a month ago, actually. Not the one you're thinking of."

"Mhm, sure it is..."

"Didn't you spend much longer looking at that issue than I did?"

"Hey, gotta keep up with the news," she said.

He dipped the wad of newspaper in some water and used it as disposable heat protection to rub out the flaws in a few half-cooled lumpy bottles. The results weren't perfect, but they would do; these were cheap bottles, and nobody needed these to be perfect anyway.

But what was perfect was Chandrelle; he took another glance at her. Even in a scorched apron and beige work shirt, she still looked great, and whether tied back in a bun or hanging loose, her long blonde hair was always a nice thing to see.

During the last hour of the workday, he finished the mass-produced glassware and helped Chandrelle with her expert work as necessary, preparing molten glass slurries and powders and so on for her.

By the end, they had prepared and stored a large bounty of bottles, plates, cups, and exotic decorative glassware; it would all be prepared for shipment in the morning, but for now, the workday was finished, and they shut down the workshop for the evening.

Harold snuck a glance at Chandrelle as she took off her dusty apron and examined the lumpy bottles he had patched up: the work shirt underneath her apron was thick, and there were probably two more layers of clothing underneath it. How she could possibly stand the heat of the workshop all day was still a mystery to him after all these months.

"Are you sure these are the ones you said you had to fix?" Chandrelle asked.

He leaned in. "Yeah, you can see some curvature here, and here... Sorry about that, I think we'll need to find someone to take these at a discount."

She peered closer at the bottles. "No, they're basically perfect," she said. "I doubt anyone will notice a thing about these."

He didn't entirely believe it, but it was good enough for now. As he hung up his apron and was about to leave, Chandrelle waved at him.

"Oh, one last thing, before you go! Just a quick gift..."

Harold blushed. A gift?

Chandrelle reached behind a pile of crates and pulled a glass something; she covered it up with her hands before dramatically showing it to him. It was a five inch tall glass figurine, with all kinds of rainbow swirls inside it and covered in opaque gray specks of dyed glass.

It was his favorite animal; how did she know? He held it and was enthralled by the sheer beauty of the thing, made of flawless crystal and full of Chandrelle's little touches.

"Thanks, I, I love you..."

He fell silent. He didn't mean to say that. Chandrelle seemed to think hard over the next few seconds. He was terrified.

Then she spoke.

"How about tonight, maybe around ten, you come up to my place above the shop? I've been meaning to share something with you for a while."

That was much better than he was expecting, but it was still anxiety-inducing in entirely new ways.

"I uh, I didn't mean to blurt it out like that, but it's true, and--"

"--Don't worry about it. Listen, you're lovely to be around, alright? No matter how this goes, it'll turn out fine. We can talk more tonight. Anyway, see you then; don't worry too much about being there exactly on time."

"I, um, okay see you later!"

She waved him goodbye as he hurriedly left in embarrassment, and as he walked down the street cradling his rabbit sculpture, he couldn't think of anything else but tonight. What was going to happen? How could it go wrong? What were the worst things Chandrelle could say?

He made it home, cleaned himself up, immediately put on some more comfortable casual clothing, and then tried to calm himself down by reading a book. But even after an hour of reading with his new glass rabbit friend, the anxiety was still there.

He sighed. Nothing else to do but wait. Or to get caught up on the news. He had a newspaper delivered that morning titled "City Council Divided On Succubus Issue"; after reading that one for a while, it was just more of the same from previous weeks; mostly just people's reasonable suspicions about a literal demon starting up a suspiciously cheap prostitution service. And a small article about some slime girls or whatever doing mischief in town; he wasn't concerned with that kind of hooliganism when he had a stress-inducing date tonight, or at the very least, something like a date.

Nine came, and he decided to leave early. On the way to Chandrelle's spacious home one floor above the workshop, he went over the very few words she said, over and over, trying to figure out why she would say those exact things.

It was cold outside, and the streets were almost empty. A half moon poked out from the light cloud cover, and the blue glow of the town's magic streetlights helped guide him as he thought and walked.

He arrived. The workshop's back door was unlocked, so he let himself in, and for the first time, he ascended the narrow staircase leading to the second floor. Despite the soft carpet and the well-used shiny wooden railing that helped him steady his wobbly legs, he still felt unwelcome.

The imposing door at the top stood before him. He was terrified to knock.black

Relief and anxiety went through him as the door unlocked, and it slowly opened; Chandrelle stood on the other side, looking somewhat happy to see him. She was wearing a black sweater he hadn't seen before, as well as a matching pair of cozy pants.

"Come on in," she said with a welcoming wave.

He followed her inside into her carpeted living room, full of cozy brown furniture and warmly lit carpet. As he looked around, he realized he hadn't said anything yet, and thought he should probably say something just to break the silence.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Truth be told, nervous," Chandrelle said.

"I haven't been..." Harold remembered her word choice. He didn't know if it was a date, and he wasn't entirely sure if she knew yet. "I've been a bit nervous too... I was really excited for tonight!"

Chandrelle led him further into her living room and sat on an exceedingly soft-looking leather sofa. Harold wasn't surprised to see glass knickknacks all over the place; after all, she made them for a living, but he was surprised by how many of the glass figurines on her bookshelf were of naked men and women. He tried to dismiss it as an artistic kind of nudity, even though one of the highly detailed figurines was obviously fingering herself.

Chandrelle spoke. "So, I know how you feel about me, but I hope that regardless of what happens, we can continue to work together."

More mixed emotions.

"Oh, yeah, if things don't go well, I'll still be in the glassworks... We can still be friends!"

"I certainly hope so. Anyway, I invited you up here because I have a secret, and I thought you should know about it."

"I can keep a secret, don't worry."

"Are you absolutely sure? I trust you, but this could ruin all of my business if it got out."

Now Harold was both anxious and curious. He was expecting to embarrass himself on an awkward date, not to be trusted with dangerous secrets.

"Only tell me if you really want to," Harold said.

"I do. So... That succubus prostitute in the news? She's me."

Harold chuckled. It was classic Chandrelle comedy, but Harold could hardly wait for the real secret.

Then Chandrelle's body started glowing; there was a brilliant flash of purple light, and Harold jumped back.

When the light cleared and Harold's vision had recovered, he saw that Chandrelle had almost completely transformed; her hair was now a light purple and even longer than before, her eyes were now a glowing red, and she had a curvy pair of black horns on her head.

The exceptionally thin black tail with the heart-shaped tip was new too. She was also slightly taller than him now, and the rest of her body, while mostly similar, was subtly more seductive. And she still looked great in that sweater.

Chandrelle sighed. "Yes, I'm a succubus. And that is a real tail. I'd kill for a pair of wings though, but I'm not sure how I'd wear a sweater with them. I suppose I'd have to cut holes in the back..."

"Is... Is Chandrelle your real name?"

"Oh yes!" Chandrelle said. "I haven't once given out a name while in my true form; Chandrelle's such a lovely name, and I'd hate to be known by anything else."

"So uhhh... the prostitution thing... Why do you do that anyway?"

"You have to understand, I was spontaneously born fully-grown in a burst of flame from the ambient lust of sentient peoples, and my biggest drive is to spread that same lust. I'm a demon; demons all have their urges. Mine just involves giving people a good time."

"Chandrelle... I still love you."

"I love you too. Not just because I want to bang you; but because you're a good friend. But I want you to know, I'm not above trickery and manipulation. Sure, I don't use magic on people, but that's just because I want to maintain a good reputation. Hypnotize people in a town full of observant and magically-knowledgeable folk, and you eventually get found out and caught. If I didn't have that concern, who knows what I'd do?"

Harold sat down on the couch next to her.

"Listen, you're Chandrelle, you're the kind woman who brought me from a complete novice to an almost decent glassblower--"

"--You're more than almost decent, you need to stop selling yourself short. Another few years and you'll be as good as me!"

"How long have you been practicing anyway?"

"I'm older than I said; I'm not actually twenty-eight, I'm thirty."

"But actually, you're an immortal demon, how old are you really?"

Chandrelle laughed. "I really am thirty. I'm not that old. I took up glassblowing a while back so I could develop a cover identity. And it's a fun hobby. And every night, when I leave this building behind and teleport to my little bordello on the other side of town, I always make sure to tell my--as of late, increasingly numerous--midnight customers to buy themselves a glass buttplug, and guess who's well-regarded for making the best glassware in town?"

"Never been a fan of butt stuff, to be honest..."

Chandrelle leaned in. "And that's fine, I won't try to convince you to be a fan; at least not tonight, anyway."

"I guess you'll have to convince me to shove things up your butt tomorrow then," Harold said.

"Oh no, I meant it would be going up yours."

They both laughed, and Harold realized his anxiety was melting away. Jokes. Certainty. Love. Now that he knew what she wanted to share, everything was getting better and better. The nightmare scenarios in his mind were fading away, replaced with a stranger but much more reassuring reality.

"Now," Chandrelle said, "I need to make one thing clear; I'm not a good person. I serve my own selfish ends. I spread debauchery to give myself a warm fuzzy feeling inside."

"Come on," Harold said. "You've always been nice."

"But it's because I enjoy you! I like having you around. I gave you that rabbit sculpture solely because I like seeing you be happy."

"Yeah, that's what love is, right?"

Chandrelle was silent for a moment as Harold scooted closer. He put one arm around her shoulder.

"Chandrelle, I'm sorry if I'm not completely understanding what's inside your heart, but you've been nothing but great to me and everyone, and I love you; I don't know what I'd do without you. So what if you're a bit selfish? I still think you're a great person."

She leaned over and hugged him. Harold pressed her head against her shoulder, and she did the same with him.

"Harold... you're okay with this?"

He turned his head, and she turned to look at him, still locked together in their cozy embrace.

"I'd still love you even if you were something much more horrible than a cute demon."

"I also plow and get plowed by dozens of people a night. You're fine with that too?"

"I am. Even if you had other special someones among them, that wouldn't make me love you any less."

"Oh, Harold, you're too kind..."

They kissed, and they held each other tightly. Chandrelle's tail moved, and Harold felt it wrap around his back. With nothing to worry about, Harold simply enjoyed the moment. Her sweater-clad chest pressed against him. He slid his hands inside the bottom of her sweater, then moved them up, sliding them across her warm back.

Chandrelle took her lips off him for a moment and released her tail's grip. "This couch is rather small... somewhere more comfortable, perhaps?"

Harold smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask. I don't want to fall off while we're moving around..."

They got up, and Chandrelle led him by the hand as they joyfully ran to her bedroom. A single lamp on the desk opposite of the violet bed provided dim, warm light.

Harold hopped onto the fluffy blankets, undressing while laying in the middle of the bed. Chandrelle approached the bed, slowly sliding off her pants, revealing her smooth thighs and frilly black panties. She tossed it aside, and was about to remove her sweater when Harold spoke up.

"Could... Could you keep the sweater on? I have a bit of a thing for huge boobs in sweaters..."

Chandrelle rubbed her chest through her sweater. "No problem. I have a bit of a thing for other people's things, you see..."

As Harold finished undressing, revealing his already erect cock, Chandrelle slipped off her panties and crawled onto the bed, moving slowly towards him. Her tail waved seductively as she approached.

Chandrelle positioned herself so that her body was positioned just above his. Harold let her take the lead as she placed her hands and knees next to him, and waited for her to make a move.

"What to do first," Chandrelle whispered. "Perhaps a little bit of..."

Her tail moved down to Harold's erection, and the leathery tip gently rubbed the base of his cock, making him shudder with arousal. Slowly, she wrapped her thin tail around the base, gently teasing him with every movement she made.

"You like that, don't you?" Chandrelle asked.

"More," Harold begged.

More and more coils of her tail wrapped around his cock. When they were halfway up his shaft, she stopped adding more tail length and started tightening her grip, squeezing his erection. Harold wondered how strong that tail was, and he hoped she would show him.

She squeezed tightly and started pulling her coiled tail up and down, jerking him off with her grip.

"I love having a tail," Chandrelle said.

"I wonder what crazy things you'd do in bed if you had wings," Harold said as she pleasured him.

Chandrelle giggled, and she lowered her head to give him another passionate kiss. Harold placed his hands on her chest, gently massaging her breasts through her sweater.

Chandrelle's tail moved faster and faster, stroking him harder and harder with every second that passed. Arousal built up inside him, making her stroking movements, the kiss, and her soft breasts all feel better and better to him.

Harold brought one of his hands out of her sweater and moved it between her legs, and up towards her waiting pussy. With a gentle touch, he massaged the outside of her wet warmth.

She kissed harder, and he took it as a sign of approval. He rubbed his fingers against her clit, gently stroking it at first before shifting into a more forceful press.

He was already nearing orgasm, and he hadn't entered her yet. His fears of finishing early were put to rest when Chandrelle loosened the grip of her coiled tail...

She took her lips away for a brief moment. "Just keep massaging me while I tease you..."

Harold rubbed one hand against her chest and another against her clit. Meanwhile, her tail made loose, almost ticklishly light grazes against his shaft, stroking up and down while just barely touching him. Soon, she uncoiled her tail entirely and simply teased his tip with the end of her tail.

She carefully pleasured him, touching him in only small amounts as he fingered her. Chandrelle's pussy grew wetter and wetter from his touch, and he wondered how long it would be until she came.

"Oh yeah," Chandrelle muttered. "I think it's time I stopped teasing..."

She moved her tail away and leaned back, positioning herself upright on top of him. Harold took his fingers off her as she brought her pussy just above his erection.

She slowly moved downward, and as the tip of his cock entered her, Harold held still as her tight opening slid over his shaft.

Chandrelle started bouncing up and down, and she leaned forward. Harold grabbed her still sweater-clad chest, gripping and massaging it as she fucked him.

His heavy breathing. Her bouncing chest. His erection sliding in and out of her. He was overwhelmed by pleasure, and for him, gripping her chest and gently thrusting upwards in time with her movements was enough. Already aroused, he came closer and closer to orgasm with every bounce and every thrust.

Chandrelle started to subtly moan with arousal, and Harold felt his heart rate intensify. He thrusted harder up into her as she bounced, fueled by the burning arousal in his groin.

Her hips slammed into his over and over, and Chandrelle's moaning grew louder.

"Ahh... yes..." she muttered as her tail waved excitedly behind her.

Harold couldn't help but let out a little sigh of air himself as he neared the tipping point of orgasm.

"Almost there..." Chandrelle said.

Chandrelle let out a sharp gasp as she came. Her pussy clenched over and over around his erection as she frantically bounced on top of him. Her tail stiffened and hung in the air behind her; her clenches and moans and gasps went on and on, and they were finally enough to bring Harold over the edge. He closed his eyes and let out an aroused half-sigh half-moan as his erection twitched inside her quivering pussy. Every clench brought a torrent of fluid out of him, and his back arched up as he held his erection still for her to move on top of.

Soon, her orgasm began to die down, and his own twitching erection did the same. The pulses of pleasure gave way to calmness and relaxation, though he could still hear his pounding in his ears--and he almost swore he could feel her own, though it could have just been his imagination. Harold let his breathing slow, enjoying the moment of quiet, then eventually, Chandrelle spoke and he opened his eyes.