The Succubae Seduction Ch. 01byDBs_Bro©
Author's Note: This story will focus more on the storyline than the erotic aspect, though I do intend to have plenty of that as well. If you are only reading for the sex, then just skip to the end of this chapter, and enjoy. If you're more like me, and like the buildup, and to get to know the characters, then please enjoy my first original series, 'The Succubae Seduction'.
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Sighing, I set the completed report aside after stapling it, and putting it on top of another set of reports that will likely get just as ignored, as the head honchos of our company make their billion dollar decisions.
Craning my neck and back, I grunt as I feel my back pop. I look around my office. . . . Well, I'm not really sure I can call this room an office. Five desks are arrayed around the room in a U-shape, each with another corporate lackey just like myself, looking just as dead eyed and soulless as I feel.
Well, except for Sheila at the bend in the U. Mrs. Lance is my boss, and while she isn't a strict task mistress, she isn't exactly warm either. I've definitely worked for worse bosses, and worse looking. Her long black hair is tied back into a tight bun, making her brown eyes and sharp nose that much more severe. The look is balanced by a softer chin, that all told, doesn't make her beautiful, but slightly attractive.
Crap! She's looking right at me, and even from this distance, I can see the disapproving look in her eyes. Well, back to the grind. Did I mention she wasn't strict? Yeah, well, I lied.
Burying my head back into my work, I pull up a couple spreadsheets and get back to compiling data.
If only this job didn't pay the bills, I'd happily be doing something else. Growing up, I never saw myself as a desk jockey, putting in the 9-5 grind, and collecting a paycheck every two weeks. I'd always seen myself with an exciting career in the Air Force, flying fighter jets, and shooting down the enemy. My near-sightedness and color blindness put an end to that dream.
Without military help in paying my tuition, my parents, rest their souls, couldn't afford to put me through college. I'd worked my way through fast food, until I became a manager. Then I found a job in the mailroom here, which paid a bit less than I was making, but I could hold the fast food management job at night, while working inside the dungeon, during the day. A couple years later, I crawled out of that abyss, and have slowly worked my way up to this dreary position of crunching numbers, and filing reports.
Yeah, yay me! A very exciting career indeed.
An odd noise sounds across from me, and it takes me a moment to recognize what it is. Not because the sound is unrecognizable, but because it is so alien in this white-washed, fluorescent-illuminated room.
It was a sigh of contentment.
Looking up, I'm greeted with an odd sight. Thomas Johnson, gray head of hair and normally tired eyes, looks slightly happy. He actually has a dreamy look on his face. Almost as if he's in la-la-land, and enjoying his fantasy. That's not the oddest thing though.
Bent over next to him is a very attractive young lady in a black and red summer dress, whispering into his ear. Her shoulder length blue hair is hanging down over her face, and whatever she's saying to Thomas, seems to be having an effect on his daydreaming.
A quick glance to Sheila shows that she isn't paying any attention to the two, but she is looking at me sternly.
Back to work I go.
Thomas clears his throat, and I glance up, and see the young lady start walking over to Debbie. I can now see the girl's face, and note that she's probably nineteen or twenty. Her nose is small, one of those cute button noses, and her eyes are wide and innocent looking. I can't make out much more detail at this distance, even with my glasses on, but I can easily make out the saucy sway in her slim hips as she walks over to Debbie, and starts whispering in her ear. What is that girl saying to them, and why do they look like they're a million miles away, mentally?
I have just enough time to see a dreamy look come over the slightly chubby woman's features, before Sheila loudly states, "Mr. Snow, if you can't seem to focus on your own work, maybe I should send you home."
Crap, crap, and double crap! Part of me is upset at the injustice of the situation. I mean, why am I getting into trouble, instead of that young woman?
"No, Mrs. Lance. Sorry I got distracted." Eyes back on my screen, I do my best to ignore what's happening on the other side of the room, and drudge through a report on current shipping costs, versus what they were a year ago.
This report is actually interesting, in a 'I want to bash my head against a wall, until I black out,' sort of way.
"Hmm, you're kinda cute; so much better than that religious bitch next to you. Too bad we can't get rid of those glasses." The softly whispered voice directly in my ear startles me enough that I fall right out of my chair.
"Mr. Snow!" Sheila nearly shouts, and I point open-mouthed at the very beautiful woman standing behind my desk and over me. "Don't try and blame your chair. Your reports have been less than stellar lately, and it's obvious you need to take the afternoon off. Perhaps tomorrow you will feel up to doing your job properly."
Speechless, I look from the young woman, to my boss, and back again. The blue-haired petite lady looks just as shocked and confused as I feel. My mouth moves wordlessly as I try to protest, but the look in my boss's brown eyes silences me. I've never been one to argue with an authority figure, and back down.
Picking myself up off the floor, I logout of my computer, grab my coat, and head to the elevator. The young woman follows right on my heels.
As soon as the doors close, the young lady speaks, and a shiver runs through me as her words conjure blurry thoughts that somehow seem lascivious and a pleasant feeling in my groin. "You can see and hear me, can't you?" There is still a note of surprise in her tone.
I glance at her, and her hazel eyes try to ensnare mine, but I look away quickly.
Maybe I do need a break. Is this babe for real? No one else seemed to be able to see or hear her. Sheila obviously hadn't, and everyone else in the office had only stared at him. Maybe a good nap will clear my head.
"You can!" the pert woman says excitedly. The doors to the elevator open, and I step out, having no doubt that my hallucination will follow me. "But why can you see and hear me?"
Walking through the parking garage, I try to ignore her, as I head to my car, a bright orange, old beat up, VW bug.
"You don't think I'm real!" the girl says, and I can't stop myself from nodding in response. Of course she's not real. She has to be entirely in my mind. No one else can see or hear her. Her voice has an almost physical effect on me. No woman of her obvious caliber would be spending this much time with me.
Okay, so it's been a long time since I've been on a date. I don't think I'm ugly, and I'm by no means fat. In fact, I may be a little on the skinny side, but I try to stay fit. My dark brown hair is cut close to my head, parted on the right, and I've been told that my gray eyes are eye-catching, if only I didn't have to wear glasses.
I'd thought my last date had gone well, until I'd invited the woman back to my place for coffee. She had quickly declined, and we went our separate ways. She never returned any of my phone calls after that. Maybe I just need to pull up some porn, and take care of myself. That ought to clear the cobwebs out of my head.
I use my key to unlock the driver's side, and get in, only to find my delusion already in the passenger seat. Of course. . . . I look to her door to see that the passenger side is still locked. Did I really expect anything else?
Wait a minute. She's my delusion. I should be able to think her away. I concentrate hard on picturing the passenger seat empty.
"That won't work," her soft voice states.
The engine in the rear cranks to life, and I put my Orange Bubble, as I call her, into gear, and start my drive home.
"You can ignore me all you want, but I'm really here." I find myself growing hard in my pants, and I wonder about that. "I can prove it, too!"
I feel her hands unzip my pants, and I do my best to ignore how soft her fingers feel as she pulls my hard member from my underwear. Wow! This delusion feels great, I think as she bends over, and teases the tip of my penis with her tongue. I can feel her mouth muscle playing with my pee hole, and I can't stop the slight moan that escapes my lips. Her hand squeezes the base of my penis, while her other hand gently fondles my nutsack.
I have to concentrate hard on the road, and swerve back into my lane when her lips surround the head of my penis, and my pleasure increases tenfold. How can my imagination feel so good? I can actually feel her saliva dripping down my shaft, and getting massaged into my balls. Her technique is flawless. My legs keep twitching as she does something around the sensitive rim, and it's taking all of my effort to stay on the road.
This is just a dream, I tell myself, feeling doubt creep in at the assertion. None of this is real. I don't care how fantastic this is, it has to be an illusion.
I grunt loudly as I start to shoot off into what feels like a very warm wet vacuum, but know that it really has to be the inside of my underwear.
I hear screeching tires, and a horn honking, right before my poor car slams into something hard.
My head slamming into the steering wheel knocks me out.
* * *
A really annoying, steady beep wakes me up, and I look around. I immediately recognize the look of a hospital room, and groan as a wash of pain nearly overwhelms me.
Well, I try to groan. A tube shoved down my throat rather hinders the attempt. How bad was that accident? I try to lift my head, but again, the pain is intolerable, and I quit trying.
"Good to see you're finally awake," a gentle voice says, and I feel myself calming down. Swiveling my eyes towards the feminine voice, I see a rather attractive nurse holding a notebook and smiling at me. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a pony tail, and her blue eyes are sparkling as she looks over my broken body. Her lips are a deep red, and look very kissable. . . . Not that I'm in any position to do that right now.
"Mmf, mhmmm, guruhh?" I ask, which translates loosely as, "What happened to me?"
Apparently the nurse speaks mumble-ese. "You were in a nasty accident. You have a few broken bones, including your ribs, which punctured one of your lungs. You're lucky to be alive. Apparently there was a young woman on the scene that pulled you out of your car and provided first aid until the paramedics arrived."
An image of my hallucination girl flashes through my mind, but it's blurry, and all I can really remember is her blue hair.
"Now, I know you just woke up, but I want to see how well your thinker's thinking." She smiles again, and I swear the lights brightened some. "According to the documents in your car and wallet, they say that your name is Lyden Snow, correct?"
"Hrmf," I reply positively.
"It's okay. You don't need to talk. Just blink once for yes, twice for no," she tells me cheerily.
I blink once.
"Good! I like that name. It sounds strong. Now then. . ." she trails off as she consults her notebook. "We couldn't seem to find any next of kin. It looks like your parents died some years ago by drowning in a lake. I'm truly sorry about that." The way she talks, I have no doubt that she truly is saddened by my parent's death. "No siblings and no extended relations we could find. Is that correct?"
"It would seem that you're slightly accident prone, also. Our records indicate that another young woman found you by the lake almost two days after your parents drowned. You'd been presumed dead until the girl found you." Her blue eyes seem to bore into me with her questions. "How did you survive two hole days by that lake?"
I blink three times, not really able to answer her. The truth is that I really don't know. I'd only been a kid at the time, and barely remember any of it. Brooke had found me on the beach, and I'd been in foster care till I was sixteen, when I'd struck out on my own. Brooke has always kept tabs on me, though, and even lives in the same apartment complex that I do now.
"Do you have a girlfriend or significant other we can contact?"
Two blinks. If only I had the courage to ask Brooke out. Many times I've been tempted to ask her on a date, but I've always been too intimidated by her beauty.
"Were you alone in the car at the time of the accident?"
I pause as I consider how to answer, and she notices my hesitation, one of her delicate eyebrows arching at my delay. I blink once.
"Hmm, are you sure? Your pants were undone, and there was evidence that there may have been. . . um. . . some sort of sexual situation that caused the accident."
I try not to blink at all, not really knowing how to answer. I don't even want to look her in the eyes, embarrassed by the thought of getting my dick sucked by a fantasy. After a few seconds she nods to herself and comes over to look at the medical equipment. Her name tag says Angela, and somehow I can make out the soft scent of vanilla and flowers. She jots a few things down on her clipboard and then heads for the door. She stops in the doorway and turns back to me, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I told you I was real, and now I know you can hear me."
Despite the shock I feel at her words, and the pain my body is still in, her voice somehow makes my cock grow hard instantly.
* * *
Over the next month, as I go through physical therapy, and my body knits itself back together, I don't see Angela again. There are a few times I suspect that I see her, but it's always out of the corner of my eyes, and by the time I turn, the image is gone.
Well, I should say that I don't see her when I'm awake. When I'm asleep and dreaming, she seems to be all I see. We never talk in my dreams, but always have sex. Sometimes she comes to me in the punk form I saw at work, and sometimes she comes to me in her nurse alter ego. Every night, I cum, and every morning I wake up and have to clean out my underwear from the night's wet dream. With all the privacy afforded to me in the hospital, this doesn't go unnoticed.
The rate at which I'm healing and recovering doesn't go unnoticed either.
"Do you think it's all the testosterone in his system?" I happen to hear one nurse say, then clam up as she notices I'm close by. By the flush that spreads across her cheeks, there is no doubt she's talking about me.
The day I'm finally released to my own care is dark and overcast, as rain threatens to break at any moment from the dark clouds above.
"Your ride should be here at any moment," the large male nurse intones as he wheels me out of the front lobby. The wheelchair isn't necessary for me to move, but apparently it's hospital policy that every patient has to be wheeled out.
"And you say my hospital bill is already taken care of?" I still don't know who would have paid it, but I don't complain either.
"Lyden!" I hear in relief as I stand up from the wheelchair. I turn in time to see the passenger door to the Orange Bubble swing open. I stare in shock, as there doesn't seem to be a scratch on her, and even looks shinier than I've ever seen the car before. I can't even see the dent in the front fender where a shopping cart had hit it almost a year ago. "Hop in! We have a lot to talk about."
There is no mistaking that short blue hair.
I'm frozen in place, not sure what to do or say. My delusion is driving my car. She pats the passenger seat, but I turn to see the nurse that'd wheeled me out is staring at her.
"You see her too?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.
"Man, if that's your girl, you're one lucky bastard!"
I have my answer.
I have to use a crutch to make it to the car, and it takes me a second to get the thing into my cramped little car. I take a deep breath, before slipping onto the passenger seat, and closing my door.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced," she tells me in her soft voice. She sticks a slender hand in front of me and says, "My name is Angela, and I'm a succubus."
Okay, so I know that I really probably shouldn't do it, but I can't help myself. I burst out laughing. It feels so good to laugh after so long, and I laugh at just having the pleasant feeling of laughing. It takes me a couple minutes to calm down and quit laughing. I even have to wipe tears out of my eyes to clear them, and there is a new pain in my side from laughing so hard. The laughter dies, though, as I turn back to her.
She is deadly serious. I don't mean that she was serious in a stern sort of way, oh no! I mean, there are real flames burning behind her hazel eyes. I can actually feel the heat washing over me, and I notice that she's not watching the road, but easily swerves around a car going slow in the fast lane. Actually, as I glance at the speedometer, I see she's got the needle buried. I didn't even know the Orange Bubble could go this fast.
"Okay, okay, you're a succubus. I'm sorry for laughing," I try to backpedal. "I thought you all had bat wings, and sucked the life out of people when you had sex with them?"
The fires in her wide eyes dim slightly, and then vanish as she blinks. "I thought my wings might scare you. . . again," she smiles at me, but it doesn't quite touch her eyes. "As far as the sex, it really is our choice. Personally, I prefer to help people out when I can, giving them fantasies, or even healing their injuries." She gives me a serious look. "That's why you healed so quickly. My talents aren't as strong while in your dreams, but now that you've been released. . ." She lets that hang in air, and this time the look of lust in her eyes is genuine and strong. Despite my growing concern with my own sanity, there is a corresponding, growing bulge in my pants.
"Wha—what do you want from me?" I ask, picturing myself as a dried up husk, with only my manhood still alive.
She still hasn't looked at the road, as she contemplates my question.
"You pique my curiosity," she tells me, and then finally looks at the road. I do to, and realize that I have no idea where we are. Tall buildings surround us, and it looks like we're downtown, but that's almost an hour's drive away from the hospital. She slows and pulls into a parking garage, and then moves my car into a stall marked 'Reserved.'
I get ready to bolt, picturing this gorgeous, punked out babe screwing me to death, and while that sounds like a fine way to go, I'm not ready to go.
"Would you relax?" she demands. "If I'd wanted you dead, I would have let you die in that accident, instead of spending a shit-ton of energy keeping you alive." I look back at her, and feel myself getting drawn in by her eyes, but shake myself, and look away. "Alright, here's the deal. You can see and hear me, when no one else can, and when I don't want you to. When no one should be able to see or hear me. I don't understand why, or even how, but I'm curious. You're a mystery to me, and I love mysteries. After being alive for over 400 years, it's nice to come across something that I don't understand."
"F-four hundred?" I sputter.
"Yeah, I know. I'm still really young by succubae standards." Really young? "Besides, as I'd told you earlier, I like to help people, and you looked like you were really hating your life behind that desk. Also, I really do think you're kinda cute. Especially now that we got rid of your glasses."