The Squire and the Succubus Ch. 01

"Fuckyes," Harp whispered, slurring it all into one word.

Sam reached up to brush some of her hair out of the way -- having to flip it back behind one ear. Something in the back of her mind twinged that that wasn't right. Then the whole of her mind was focused on the warm, hard shaft before her. Her tongue swept along the sides as she looked up at Harp, locking her eyes on his, her hand stroking what part of his cock she wasn't licking. His salty taste filled her mouth as she kissed the side of his head, then the tip of his cock, then leaned forward to kiss one of his balls. Then, quietly, she sucked the other into her mouth, stroking his cock faster and faster as it pressed to her forehead.

Harp groaned, his tail switching from side to side.

Sam's head spun as she kissed at the base of his cock, then drew her mouth back again. Something deep inside her knew that the unicorn was about to cum and cum hard. She closed her lips around the head of his shaft, swirling her tongue around and around and -- and then she was rewarded. Harp's hips twitched and he grunted low in the base of his throat. His cum rushed into her mouth and she swallowed reflexively, again and again. Her throat worked and her eyes closed as his seed filled her mouth.

She had heard -- well, overheard -- maids talk about how men could taste bitter or gross.

Harp didn't.

She wasn't sure if it was due to him being a unicorn, or due to whatever was wrong with her, but his cum tasted like the finest ambrosia. Warm and rich and delicious, she closed her eyes and savored it as her throat worked more and more. She coughed as Harp drew his hips backwards, his cock slipping free, painting her face with some of his cum, other bits dripping onto her tits. She grinned, her eyes opening as she knelt there on the sandy beach, dazed.

"What!?"

The voice snapped her out of her reverie as quickly as being dashed in the face by water -- or walking into a tree. She sprang to her feet and spun around, her eyes wide as she saw Sir Albus scrambling to his feet, his armor clattering, his helmet visor swinging wildly from side to side as he shook himself up. He drew his sword with a clumsy flail -- and the blade flashed with a pale white light. A pulse of energy shot from the tip and flew down the beach to impact in the sand about a half mile away. An eruption of light and a loud crrrump sounded out -- causing Sam to flinch backwards. Sand pattered to the ground as a smoking cloud that seemed reminiscent of the mushrooms that grew in the deep woods rose above the smoldering hole that the energy bolt had left behind.

"Fiend!" Albus shouted, swinging his sword left. Another bolt of light flew off, as wild as a poorly aimed javalin, and smashed into a tree behind Sam. The tree exploded into splinters and branches went crashing to the ground. Sam flung herself flat, covering her head with her hands.

"He's not a fiend!" she shouted as the tree finished crashing to the ground. "He's just your mount, Sir-"

"What?" Albus grabbed his helmet, yanking it to the side. His eyes -- watery as ever -- narrowed as he glared at her. "What are you speakficating on, vile one!? Samuel! Samuel! Ware!" He pointed his sword at Sam. "There's a succubi here!"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!?" Sam sprang to her feet.

Then she looked down.

"AHHHHHH!" She screamed.

Her skin had turned a brilliant ruby red. Her breasts were still small, but they had plumped up slightly, giving her a more definite girlish figure. Her belly remained as flat and muscular as before, but her hips had become slightly broader, and her ass had become perfectly heart shaped -- something she determined by twisting around to look at her back, her head craning desperately. She put her hands on her head and screamed as her palms found a pair of stubby horns. A pair of wings fluttered from her shoulder blades, and she had a tiny tail that was flicking from side to side.

Sir Albus staggered forward -- moving as gracefully and elegantly as a drunken, horny rooster trying to seduce the local milk cow -- his sword cutting a lazy arc in the air. Another energy bolt flew into the sky, causing a cloud to turn into an expanding white flare of light. Sam ducked forward, her tail freezing as she squeaked. "Stop, sir-"

"Never!" Albus shouted. "You have mounted my mount, you perfidious sexalatious devilment!"

He was now close enough to actually hit her with the sword. Sam sprang backwards -- and found her wings beating hard enough to catch the air and send her soaring upwards. Her feet pressed to the side of a tree and she squeaked -- expecting to fall straight forward. But instead, she simply stood there, as if the tree's side was the ground. This detente between gravity and her own peace of mind lasted a few seconds before whatever was sticking her to the tree laxed and she tumbled, head over heels, to smash into the ground. Fortunately, this was a few moments after Albus had sent another white bolt of light at her. The bolt cut through the tree and Sam screamed and scrambled into cover as the half of the tree above the impact point crashed to the ground where she had been.

"Albus!" she said, sticking her head around the corner. "It's me, I'm-"

Albus fired a blast at her.

This time, Sam didn't have time to dodge. The sphere of white light flew at her chest and she lifted her hands -- as if she was back in the royal court, trying to catch a message thrown her by one of the nobles. The sphere of light struck her palms and her heels dug into the ground, leaving two furrows in the soft dirt that surrounded the trees that bordered the beach as she was pushed backwards almost three feet. Then she rocked forward and realized that the blast hadn't cut through her. Rather, she was holding the sphere of light between her palms. She scowled then lifted the sphere up.

"My name is SMANATHA!" she shouted -- venting, in that single moment -- years of frustration and irritation and disillusion.

And she hurled the sphere right at Albus' face.

A fine red mist exploded backwards and painted a butterfly pattern on the beach. Albus' sword -- the hilt smoking and smoldering, with a single gauntleted hand still grasping the base -- hit the ground and sunk into the sand almost to the blood groove.

Sam stood there, gaping at the smoking hole that was her mentor and one of the most famous knights of the entire realm. She felt sick. Slowly, she walked forward -- whispering. "A-Albus?"

Nothing.

She looked around. Harp was gone -- leaving nothing but hoof marks behind him. She felt faintly betrayed and entirely lost. She slowly sat down beside the sword, her eyes wide as she looked at the red spray that was all that was left of the only human being within hundreds of miles. They had come out here to search for adventure, and now...and now...

"And now I'm dead," Albus said.

Sam squeaked, looking around -- and saw Albus' ghostly form floating above the crater. He looked somewhat more fit and younger than he had when he was alive. His face was unlined and he had a small goatee rather than the ludicrous mustache that he had sported while she had been his squire. But rather than being a fully human figure, his body dissolved into a vague swirling cloud around where his legs would have been. Sam felt faintly disappointed as she looked at that.

Realizing why, Sam also felt suddenly quite ill. She made a face at the thought of ever being desperate enough to lay Albus.

"What?" Albus said, sounding annoyed. "You just realize the villainous act you have taken, you demonish waif?" He scoffed. "Well, you can't hear me -- I may as well-"

"What?" Sam jerked her head up, blinking. "I can hear you."

"You can?" Albus drew back -- looking surprised. "Oh. Right. Succubus. You aren't a natural being -- you may have uncanning insightologies into the worlds of the superlateral."

"Supernatural," Sam said.

Albus scowled at her, his goatee bristling. "You dare correct me?" He asked, scoffing. "I, who slew the Dragon of Hoffnage?" He shook his head. "You are clearly a sinful being -- considering what you have transmorifkated into. Sinful, wicked, and a murderer."

"You were trying to kill me!" Sam sprang to her feet, starting to get angry at the injustice of it all. "A-And!" She looked down at herself. "I'm a succubus! I could...eat your soul, you know."

"Scoffications!" Albus waved one hand, then adding a 'harrumph' for good measure. "Succubus only drain the soul of a being via intercarse with them. You can no more have sex with I then- what are you doing?"

"I can't have sex with you, huh?" Sam said -- grabbing the hand and the sword from the ground. She yanked the hand off, tossing it away with a casual twitch of her hand. "Fine. Fair. Even if I could bang a ghost, I'd have sex with a tree before I screw you, Albus." She glared at him, holding up his sword in one hand -- her fingers closing tightly around the hilt. "But I could kick your ass in a way you care about way more than your immortal soul."

Albus scoffed again, sticking his nose into the air.

Sam focused -- and her skin turned a pale pink again. Her breasts shrank. Her hair shortened, her horns receded. It was all so much easier than she would have thought. She just had to focus and flex muscules that she had never known she had. She shivered as her sex inverted and a cock grew into the air, hardening slightly as it was exposed to air. She shook her head and felt the final few changes to her body settling as she...became a he.

Sam grinned broadly. "Hah," he said, enjoying his deeper new voice. "I've got the sword, I've got the body..."

"You wouldn't!" Albus said as Sam reached up and stroked his mustache, beaming slightly. He had made a few minor changes to Albus' body -- he had made him more toned and athletic, shortened the mustache slightly, de-aged him a few deacdes. In the end, he looked rather like the idealized Sir Albus Marrik von Markenzhota Delacroix the White Knight (hero of the peasantry and savior of the Realm of Albeket) people would expect to see.

"Well, you see, your majesty," Sam said, in her best imitation of the knight's manner of speaking. "My squire and I foundated a potion of restoratification of youths. And, well, it shattered while we dueled with the Emring Spirits of Falthen..." He swept his blade around experimentally, grinning as he did so. "Spilled all over me and poor Samuel. He de-aged past his birth, a horrid way to die."

Albus looked furious. "Villain! Whore! Harlot! You would do ill deeds in my name?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" Sam grinned, wickedly. "I'd go and do better deeds. You slew dragons? I'd slay elder dragons. You saved kingdoms?" She shifted back to her normal form, puffing up her chest slightly. "I'll save worlds."

Albus looked as if he was considering trying to find a way to murder someone without using anything but his glare. He was positively shaking with indigniation.

"Or," Sam said, pointing the sword point at Albus. "You can lay off the insults and help me and I'll make my own legend, thank you very much."

Albus' nose twitched slightly with indignation. It was the only part of his face that he seemed to be able to move -- the rest of it was locked up tight as a tinker's journal. He finally relented, blowing out an immense sigh. "Fine," he said. "Fine, fine, fine. I'll help you. Whore."

"Ass." She smirked, focusing and finding that she could 'grow' clothes around her in the same way she could shift her form. She experimented in something in form fitting leathers as she dialed back her succubi traits to just being hot.

"Harlot!"

"Dickhead," she snapped.

"Temprest of the indecent!"

"Blowhard!" She stabbed the sword at his chest. "Make yourself useful and find me the way to a freaking village so I can at least rest without needing to worry about wandering monsters or something."

"Oh, fine!" Albus put his hands on his spectral hips. "...slut."

It turned out, throwing a fireball at someone was just as easy as shapeshifting -- and even ghosts can feel singed.

To be Continued