The Creators: Book One free porn video

BRANDON

My twin sister is dead, but she’s not gone. Death is a tragedy in the remote village of Towerhead, but it’s not a rarity. Farming accidents, disease, famine, natural disasters, you name it, it kills people in Towerhead. So, six years ago, when the oxen-pulled carriage ran my ten-year-old sister into the dirt, it was a tragedy, but it wasn’t an anomaly. I had seen this play before; the townspeople rushing to the accident, the driver sitting in shocked silence, the wails and screams of the bereaved, and then the solemn procession that follows. My mother and father were devastated, my friends were consoling and understanding, but I just stood there like an asshole pointing to the bluish-white translucent figure to my left.

“Uh, guys?” I remember saying, “She’s right here.”

At first, people thought it was just my coping mechanism. Hell, I thought that must be the case, but Angela never went away. She talked to me, and I talked to her, and that’s when people thought I was going crazy. I agreed with them, of course; I must be going insane. I tried to pretend she wasn’t there, and I ignored her as best I could, but that didn’t make her go away. Then Angela started feeding me test answers in school, and telling me where to pan for gold in the river, and showing me where the game was when I was hunting. The apparition’s proclamations were so accurate, that I could no longer deny her existence. Angela was dead, but she wasn’t gone.

After my parents tried an exorcism to relieve me of the ‘demon that plagued my soul,’ I stopped trying to prove to people that Angela was real. Towerhead is a lovely town, but it is a small town, fifty miles removed from civilization. Magic is looked down upon, and any anomaly that can’t be explained in ten words or less is either ‘god’s blessing,’ or ‘the devil’s work,’ depending on the situation. So, I kept Angela to myself, but as I grew older, her constant presence in my life started to present new and interesting problems. You see, Angela never leaves me. I mean never. I’m a sixteen-year-old boy, and sometimes, privacy is a concern of mine.

“OK, Angela,” I hissed at her as I sat upright on my bed, “we need to talk about boundaries.”

“I was just curious to see what you were doing,” she said, giving me her big-eyed look of innocence, “it looked like you were wrestling with a squirrel under the sheets.”

“Mm-hmm,” I said, giving her a frank look, “a squirrel.”

“A really big squirrel,” Angela smiled coyly, “the kind of squirrel all the women of the town would just love to see.”

“Angela,” I sighed, “get the fuck out of my room.”

“Oh, my mistake,” Angela giggled, “looks like it’s a chipmunk. Not a very impressive one either. Kind of sickly looking, and diseased, and limp-”

“Angela…” I growled.

“You know,” she said, completely unfazed by my irritation, “if you would just listen to my advice, you wouldn’t have to wrestle rodents under your bedsheets every night.”

I sighed, and pulled up my pants beneath the sheets. It was going to be another one of these nights. Sometimes, Angela left me alone, but as we grew older, she became more and more ‘curious’ about my nightly activities. Angela didn’t stay perpetually ten years old, she ‘matured’ at the same rate I did. I put ‘matured’ in quotations, because even though her ethereal body developed, her lack of social interaction with anyone but myself put a damper on her interpersonal development.

“How do I put this nicely…” I said, “your advice with women is fucking terrible.”

“It is not!” Angela huffed, “I feed you great lines, you just deliver them horribly.”

“Trish, are you doing anything tonight? Yeah you are… this guy.” I recited the last line Angela had given me, completing the phrase with a double-thumb-point to myself, just like she had said I should, “That one was a real panty-dropper.”

“I think she liked it.” Angela insisted.

“She laughed, and then slapped me in the face.” I replied frankly.

“She’s just playing hard to get.”

“She’s really taking the game to heart then.”

“Hey!” Angela snapped, “At least a woman touched you this time!”

“That’s not really the kind of connection I’m looking for.” I replied with a wry smile. Angela looked like she was going to say something else for a moment, but then she sighed, and drooped her shoulders.

“OK,” she said sheepishly, “it wasn’t my best line.”

“Hey,” I said, scooting next to her, and letting her rest her weightless head on my shoulder, “I appreciate the effort.”

“Just not the results.” Angela sighed, “You know, I spent hours thinking of that one.”

“I don’t think women really go for pickup lines,” I said, “I think talking to them like actual people might be an interesting tactic.”

“We’ve tried that,” she smiled ruefully up at me, “you’re no good at it.”

“It doesn’t help when you’re hovering over my shoulder, constantly giving me unwarranted advice,” I chuckled, and then changed the pitch of my voice to mimic Angela’s, “Smile, Brandon. Sit up straight! Look her in the eyes, hold the eye contact, hold it… hold it… don’t you fucking blink, you’re killing it! Hold it…Don’t look at her tits! OK, smooth recovery; hey, what’s wrong? You look like you need eye drops, holy shit, they’re red. Oh fuck, she’s getting up; quick, say something clever! Oh god, why did you say that?! Quick, uh… flex your muscles! Sing her a song! Propose to her! And… she’s gone.”

“I do not sound like that!” Angela giggled.

“That was basically a tranion of the last date I went on,” I replied, “and yes, you sound exactly like that.”

“Well, I gave you solid advice,” Angela insisted, “you just didn’t follow it right.”

“Your feminine intuition is a true wonder, Angela,” I said dryly, “clearly, my mind is too weak to comprehend your genius.”

“Clearly.” Angela said, decidedly ignoring my sarcasm and just agreeing with it. I looked over at her and sighed. Angela was beautiful. I could say that objectively, without feeling weird about it. Her face was girlish in features, with big, blue eyes, a pointed nose, flushed cheeks, and a scattering of freckles that accentuate the cuteness of her portrait. Had she been alive, her hair would be golden-blonde, her complexion would be subtly pale, and her figure would be slender, but well-rounded where it counted. Instead, her ethereal form was a light-blue hue, her hair was starkly white, and her form was a fleeting wisp, that barely held together in the wind. It must be hell for her, I thought, to see what she could have become, knowing the world would have been her oyster in life.

“Are you still going to Tera’s house tomorrow?” Angela asked me, her voice soft and fearful.

“What other choice do we have?” I replied, putting my arm around her, even though I couldn’t tell where my touch connected with her outline.

“Go to Drastin,” Angela said, “seek the guidance of a wizard.”

“We’re fifty miles from Drastin,” I said, “and we don’t have the coin for a wizard.”

“And you think Tera can help?” Angela whispered.

“They say she’s ancient,” I replied, “older than Towerhead itself, and she’s cheap.”

“She’s a succubus, Brandon,” Angela said in a hushed voice, “she’s where the old and dying go to spend their last days; if you’re that desperate to get laid, we can just spend the money on a whore.”

“She’ll take my coin as payment,” I said firmly, “she’d be run out of her den if she took unwilling men.”

“You’re ‘Crazy Brandon,’” Angela said softly, “no one would second guess her if she said you came to die with her. A young man like you might be too tempting a prize.”

“We’ll just have to take the risk,” I said, “we can’t keep living like this.”

“‘Living.’” Angela scoffed.

“You know what I mean,” I said, “we need help, or at least, we need answers. Tera can probably give us the latter; what’s happening to us can’t be unique.”

TERA

I smelled the young man before I saw him. I could smell his vigor, his strength and his youth. He smelled delicious, but I stayed my desires. I had created a delicate symbiosis with the townsfolk of Towerhead; they sent me their old and dying to feed upon, and I provided them with healing, and medicine. It was a tenuous relationship, but it worked, as long as neither side overstepped themselves. The old and dying came willingly, wanting to spend their last days in pleasure and comfort, but if a young man were to come along, I was to reject him. So, I grew nervous as he approached my door, and I pondered for a moment to act like I wasn’t home. If the townsfolk saw this man enter my abode, it would raise questions, and the god-fearing people of Towerhead usually answered questions of magical beings with pitchforks and torches. He knocked on the door, and I sighed.

“One moment.” I called to the door, adjusting myself in the mirror. I was naked, of course. Clothes were such a bother, unless they were lingerie, in which case they were wonderful fun. Still, I couldn’t risk unintentionally tempting this boy with my body. My tan complexion was a pristine canvas formed across a set of curves that bowed vulgarly about my outline. My breasts swelled from my chest in perfect proportion to my delicate frame; sloping over a silky abdomen that was toned with soft muscle, and dotted with a small navel at its center. The lines of my torso trailed together into my pelvis, which was outlined by wide hips, and a robust, perfect backside that creased into two, perfect domes, whose supple texture was hinted at with each lascivious step. My thighs were thick, toned and smooth, and revealed a hairless, tight slit at their apex. My eyes were big, innocent and violet, my cheekbones were high and baring lush cheeks, and my lips were full, pink and luscious. I was a beautiful, human woman in all aspects, save for the curved horns that protruded from my mane of wavy, black hair, and the long, thin tail that grew outward from my tailbone. I tossed a baggy tunic over my perfection, and walked to the door.

“Yes?” I asked, opening the small window at the front of the door, where only my violet eyes could be seen.

“Are you Tera?” the young man asked. He looked to be about sixteen, blonde of hair, slight of build, and obviously nervous as hell. Thank god; I thought he might be another suicidal young man looking for an easy way out. He was not here for my salacious services.

“I am,” I said, trying to keep the natural seduction out of my voice, “what can I help you with, young man?”

“It’s…” the young man trailed off, “it’s kind of complicated, can I come in?”

So, an embarrassing ailment of some kind. God, I hope he didn’t come for an erectile dysfunction cure.

“Roll up your sleeves, take off your boots, splay your hands, spread your legs, lift up your shirt, and spin around three times,” I replied, “then show me your gold.”

The young man did as requested; taking off his boots, lifting up his shirt and tucking it beneath his chin, rolling up his sleeves, and then splaying his hands, spreading his legs, and spinning slowly around three times. I took an indulgent moment to admire the toned muscle of his abdomen, and the veins in his forearms, and then told him he could stop. I told him to turn out his pockets, and he did, relinquishing the pouch of gold he had, as well as fishing hooks, twine and some lint. I gave him another studious once-over, checking the loose spots in his clothing for signs of a weapon, before I finally opened the door.

“Come in,” I said with what I hoped was a welcoming smile, and not the seductive smirk I naturally wore, “but leave your boots outside; I don’t want you to track dirt in.”

I walked over to my desk, trying my damndest to keep my gait from turning into a sultry strut, and then sat down behind it, and gestured for the young man to take a seat across from me. He sat awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs, and I pulled out my notebook and quill.

“So, what ails you?” I asked, trying to keep my face passive, trying not to leer at the young man, “How can I help?”

“I’m not sick,” the young man said, entwining his fingers nervously, “I have a… I have a spiritual problem.”

“I’m not a therapist,” I replied, “I suggest you take your spiritual problem up with the town priest.”

“It’s not like that,” the man said, “I mean, I have a spirit following me.”

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded, making a note on the paper, “paranoid schizophrenia. There’s no cure, but I do have herbs that can dull the hallucinations.”

The young man stared at me for a moment, and then cocked his head, as though he were listening to something. He nodded to his imaginary friend, and I made another note on my paper.

“You’re not writing my symptoms on that paper,” the man said, “you’re drawing me, with my shirt off, and a very generous bulge in my pants.”

I started upright in my chair, and then slammed my notebook on the table, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. I was about to say something to explain myself, but the man cut me off.

“You have three bottles of five-hundred-year old wine, a closet full of lingerie, and a hidden door in your back room,” the man said, staring levelly at me, cocking his head as he listened, “and behind the hidden door, is-”

“Stop!” I screamed, feeling my heart race, “Don’t you say another fucking word!”

“…your daughter,” the young man finished, “combing her hair and looking out of a one-way window.”

I stared at the man in disbelief as I subtly reached beneath the desk and grasped the stock of the crossbow riveted to the bottom of the tabletop.

“I bet you can see this, too.” I whispered, aiming the bolt at the man’s crotch.

“I can’t see anything,” the man said, “it’s my sister who scouted the place while you searched me.”

“Where is she?!” I hissed, “Is she with my daughter?!”

“She’s actually sitting on top of your head, trying desperately to punch you before you shoot me in the balls,” the man responded, his voice wavering in fear, “if my promise it worth anything to you, Tera, I promise I won’t tell anyone about your daughter.”

I tensed my finger on the trigger, weighing my options in my head. The people of Towerhead barely tolerated me, and if they found out I had bred, I had no doubts about what they’d do to me and my daughter. But if I killed this boy, people would ask questions. Death is commonplace in Towerhead, but murder isn’t. A missing boy, last seen walking down my path? I might as well tie myself to a stake and light the match. I eased my finger off the trigger, and sat back, but kept my hand resting on the stock. There were two possibilities with this young man: either he’d possessed an astral being and named it his sister, or… well, that was the only option, really, because the alternative was impossible. Nearly impossible, anyway. Those legends are older than I am, and I’m five-hundred years old. That age has passed, and that magic is dead; dead and gone forever. I mean… I couldn’t be sitting in front of a god, right?

“OK, boy,” I said, looking at him sharply, “where are you keeping the gemstone?”

“The gemstone?” he asked.

“That’s how you captured the astral being, isn’t it?” I replied, “The charm on the doorway should have detected it though, so you couldn’t have brought it with you.” I looked the young man over, running through the options in my head, “…though you wouldn’t need a gemstone if you’re really an elf. Hmm… no pointed ears, and your eyes aren’t the right shade of blue… the freckles certainly don’t fit…wrong shade of blonde, too…”

“I uh…” the young man said, shifting nervously, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Nymphs don’t need gemstone’s either,” I mused, feeling my options dwindling, “but you certainly aren’t one of those… OK, I give up; how did you capture the astral being without a gemstone?”

“Like I said,” the young man replied, looking very nervous, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a gemstone, and I don’t know what an astral being even is.”

I leaned forward, staring intently at him as my finger twitched against the trigger of the crossbow. Something clearly alerted him to the danger he was in, because he flinched as my hand angled into the firing position.

“An astral being is a force a nature,” I said, searching for recognition in his eyes, “it’s what makes magic work. There are thousands of types of astral beings, and more than a few of them can give the user the power to snoop around my fucking house.”

“I’m being honest with you,” the young man said, his shaking voice barely a whisper, his body visibly trembling, “please, let me go.”

“I’m sorry, boy,” I said, tightening my finger on the trigger, and tilting the crossbow upward so that the sights zeroed-in on his stomach, “but I don’t believe you.”

“Mom!” Justina’s voice screamed from behind, “Stop!”

JUSTINA

It appeared to me as a glint of blue light. It glared against the wall, and I studied it, trying to figure out what prism in my room could create such a projection of the sun. Then I realized the glint was shining counter to the sunlight, and I became even more intrigued.

“What are you?” I asked the glint, stepping in front of the sun coming from my window, and noting that my shadow did not cast upon the light, “An astral being?”

The glint vibrated against the wall, as if in answer to my question. Neither an affirmative, nor a negative, but still a response. I reached out and touched the spot, and felt nothing. An astral being isn’t nothing; they have some substance to them. So, not an astral being. I looked at the extensive library Mother had collected over the years, pondering which tome had the answers to this intriguing mystery. Mother was a doctor at heart, but me, I was a scientist. I rubbed my thumb and forefinger against the tip of my left horn in a ponderous motion, running my eyes over the spines of each expansive volume.

Histories of The Arcane Arts, A Collection of The Mystic Texts, a blue woman standing behind me, The Testaments of-

My gaze flashed by an old spyglass sitting on the shelf, and then darted back as my heart jumped in my throat. The fish-eyed reflection of the spyglass showed a blue woman, screaming into my ear. I turned my head slowly to the left, feeling my terror rising in my throat, but I saw nothing. I turned my gaze back to the spy glass, and there she was. My curiosity overtook my fear, and I leaped into action. I ran over to my dresser and pulled out my hand mirror. I aimed the glass toward the glint on the wall, but didn’t see the woman in the reflection. I turned the glass away from the glint, slowly angling it, until it appeared at the very edge of the reflection. And there she was, right where the glass met the wood frame of the hand mirror. Aim the glass too directly, and she was gone, but aim is so that the glint just barely showed on the edge, and she appeared. She was young, beautiful, and obviously terrified. Why was she scared? What was she trying to say?

“What?” I asked, “What is it?”

The blue woman stopped, realizing I could see her. She pointed to the door of my room, which was hidden behind the book shelf on the other side. I nodded. She assumed a sitting position, her body seeming to be supported by nothing, and then she brought her arm forward, her index finger pointing outward, and then clenching.

“Sitting and smoking?” I asked, “Someone’s sitting and smoking outside?”

She shook her head furiously, and brought her other hand in front of the one clenching her index finger. She cupped the other hand as if she was holding something in front of her, flexed her index finger, and jerked her arms back. Jerked her arms back as if… as if in recoil, from pulling a trigger. Mom’s crossbow! Mom was going to kill someone! I ran to the bookshelf, undid the hidden latch, and then burst into the room.

“Mom!” I screamed, holding the mirror in my hand, “Stop!”

BRANDON

If I hadn’t skipped breakfast, I would have shit myself already. Angela was flitting frantically from Tera’s head, to the bookshelf in the corner, racing back and forth in a blur of translucent light. She told me I was in danger, she told me Tera had her hand on the trigger, and then she left me alone with the succubus, and went to the hidden room that housed the beautiful monster’s offspring. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the girl; it was pretty obvious Tera wanted her to remain secret, but I had to think of some way to convince her beyond all doubt that Angela was real. Then she went off about astral beings, and magic, and all the shit you’d never hear about in the god-fearing hovel that was Towerhead.

“I’m sorry, boy,” Tera said, her violet eyes narrowing, “but I don’t believe you.”

I seized up in horror as the hidden door came flying open, and a young, naked, beautiful girl burst into the room.

“Mom!” the teenaged succubus screamed, “Stop!”

Tera jolted upright in shock, and the motion caused her to pull the stock of the weapon upward, and release the trigger. The bolt zipped right for me, and struck with a thud into the wood of the chair, right between my legs. I groaned, slid down the back of the chair, and nearly pissed myself.

“What?!” Tera said, alarmed, running to her daughter. I couldn’t help but notice that the woman moved with a naturally seductive grace; her hips shifting dramatically, her ass bulging from cheek to cheek with each step. Before, all of her motions were stiff and calculated, and I realized that she was probably dialing-down her natural charm to keep me from getting the wrong idea.

“Look!” the daughter said to Tera, holding up a hand mirror and angling it so that it faced almost perpendicular to their faces. Tera stared intently at the mirror, and then her eyes widened. Behind her, I could see Angela jutting her hands in the air, both her middle fingers raised as she screamed profanities the succubi couldn’t hear. Tera looked from the mirror, to the empty space behind her, and then to me. Her face broadened into a wide-eyed expression of awe, and her hands moved to the laces of her tunic, and untied them. The cloth that covered her fell to the floor, and the impossibly curvaceous body beneath it stepped forward in all its bronze glory. I stared with mouth agape in terror, shock, and arousal as she approached me, her face still baring an expression of profound awe.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” I stammered, my feet kicking against the ground as I tried to right myself in the chair, “I’m more than willing to pay in gold, Tera; you can put your clothes back on.”

“You’re still in your infancy, aren’t you?” Tera said, her astonished expression contrasting the low, sultry tone of her voice, “You don’t even know what you are, do you?”

“What you’re doing is very illegal!” I said, simultaneously trying to get out of the chair, and kick at the approaching monster, “They’ll burn you for this!”

“Mom,” the daughter said from behind Tera, “what are you doing?”

“We’re in the presence of divinity, Justina,” Tera said, not looking back at her daughter, only staring at me, her astonished expression mingling with a carnal hunger behind her violet irises, “empires have been burned to ash, genocides committed, continents thrown into chaos, just for a chance… just for a chance at the opportunity we have before us.”

“A Creator?” Justina asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if the very words were holy.

“A Creator,” Tera smiled down at me, just out of reach of my kicking foot, “but still just a babe, still vulnerable, still moldable, still unbound.”

Tera caught my kicking foot with deft reflexes, and her warm, gentle touch seeped its way into my skin. I felt my body relax despite myself; my posture softening, my abdomen unclenching, and my leg falling limp in her hand. My heartbeat slowed in my chest, and my panic left me as my waistband tightened with unnatural arousal.

“Still just a babe,” Tera smiled warmly, carefully letting my foot drop to the floor, “still weak and afraid and looking for answers. I have the answers you want, boy; let me give them to you.”

“Brandon?!” Angela screamed in my ear, “Brandon?!”

Her words seemed distant and faded, as if she were calling from a mountaintop. Tera’s hand slid up my leg, her fingertips never leaving me, never giving me a chance to break from their lustful prison. She knelt between my legs as her other hand curled its elegant, long fingers about my waistband, and began to pull down.

“No,” I whimpered hoarsely, feeling my resolve fade, “please…”

“Don’t resist me,” Tera whispered, her eyes brimming with promise, her voice dripping like honey into the back of my mind, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Brandon!” a faintly familiar voice echoed in my ear, “Don’t give in; fight it!”

Tera pulled my pants past my knees, and her hungry, violet eyes fell on the growing member between my legs. She let my pants drop to my ankles, and then traced her fingers along my inner thighs. Tingles of felicitous warmth permeated from her gentle touch, and I watched helplessly as my cock engorged. Her violet irises gleamed as they reflected the curved nature of my arousal, and I groaned in need as the skin-splitting intensity of my erection was displayed for her.

“Wow,” she muttered, her voice a gentle song that echoed in my skull, “you truly are divine. What is your name, boy?”

“Brandon.” I muttered, unable to refuse her, and increasingly losing the resolve to even try.

“Brandon,” she hissed, a snake-like tongue flicking from her mouth and running across her full lips, indenting the glistening outline of her mouth and revealing the soft nature of it, “what are your desires, Brandon? What have you always wanted to do to a woman?”

“I…,” I droned, not knowing what to say, “I don’t know.”

“Ah,” she smiled knowingly, her eyes sparkling as her gentle fingers came together, wrapping their cool touch about my raging heat, “a virgin. This must all be so confusing to you. Don’t worry, Brandon; I’ll be gentle with you. You’re safe with me.”

Her violet eyes watched me from the tops of her whites as her full, pouting lips descended to my tip. Her fingers stroked me a final time, and then rested their cool, comforting touch on the flat of my pelvis. Tara’s lips pursed together, and pressed against my tip. Her tongue flicked between the lush outline of her mouth, and licked the froth of precum that had pooled at my peak. I groaned in satisfaction, and the corners of her mouth quirked in a knowing smile. She took me in. Her lips puffed about my girth in an air-tight seal, and her long, reptilian tongue wrapped around me, stroking me in its lewd hold as she descended. Her eyes twinkled in desire as her mouth consumed inch after inch of me; her lips sucking softly, drawing me ever deeper into her. She hummed a lecherous tone as my tip pushed past the resistance of her throat, and slid into the tight, wet channel of her neck. I could see the indentation of my girth bulging slightly from her throat, but she didn’t gag; she just coiled swallowing heat around me. Her lips squished around my base, her nose pressed into the soft flesh of my pelvis, and her throat tightened about her meal. My head dropped against the back of the chair as a pleasured murmur slipped from my mouth. She winked at me knowingly, and then rotated her lips. My legs splayed further apart as she wrapped her mouth about my cock. Spit leaked from the crease of her vulgar consumption and wetted the base of my shaft, leaving a sheen of her lust along the circular path of her motion. I reached forward and laid a hand on her head, marveling at the soft texture of her hair. She smiled around my cock as I finally reciprocated her affection, and then she drew upward. My god, it felt like she was trying to milk the cum from my balls. Her lips sucked with a gentle determination that seemed to pull my insides up my shaft. Her tongue ran along the underside of my manhood the whole way up, and then wrapped around me again as she descended once more. I felt my control slipping from me with each pass of her wonderful mouth. Every part of me that she touched seemed to weaken in a blissful surrender, as if my muscles were becoming gelatinous atop my bones. It was a pleasant, soothing feeling, and it spread from the points of contact, loosening the tension inside me and guiding me gently into my own enslavement.

“Oh… fuck.” I managed to say as her head moved up and down, gradually building up speed, but still retaining its gentle motions. Somewhere deep in the corridors of my mind, I heard a voice screaming my name. I knew the voice, but I didn’t know where I knew it. Its owner wasn’t visible to me any longer.

ANGELA

“Brandon!” I screamed, floating inches from his face, “Brandon?!”

His eyes were glazed over, his mouth was moaning, and his face bore an expression of pure bliss. Below me, Tera fed upon my brother with deep, passionate passes. I gave her head a useless, frustrated kick, and then looked over to Justina. She could see me! I didn’t know how she could, or what I looked like to her, but I knew she saw me with her naked eyes. She couldn’t hear me, I deduced that much, but I appeared to her in some form. She was sitting behind her mother’s desk, watching Tera feast on my brother. She looked very much like her mother; black, wavy hair, bronze skin, violet eyes, and two curved horns and a pointed tail. The difference between the two, is that Tera bore the body of a fully-fledged woman, while Justina’s more subtle curves marked her as a girl in her mid-to-late teens, with her face still carrying the smooth fullness of youth. I rushed over to the teenaged monster, and stopped short when I realized what she was doing. Both of her hands were between her legs; the tendons in her forearms flexing as she pushed her fingers inside herself. She moaned and gasped quietly as she watched the debauchery, and I let out a frustrated scream and sent a kick flying into her face.

Her hair moved. It was a subtle thing, something that could be mistaken for a trick of the wind, but I saw it. I kicked at her again, and strands of black hair brushed slightly past her face. There was something about Justina… something that let her see me, and now, feel me. Whatever connection there was between us, it was growing stronger, and I needed to exploit it, and fast! I didn’t know how much longer Brandon could remain himself, but by the expression on his face, I could tell he didn’t have much time.

I dropped in front of the moaning teenager’s face, and saw her eyes blur and then refocus. She squinted them, as though she wasn’t quite sure if there was something before her. I tried punching her in the eye, but my fist only passed through her. One of her lashes bent slightly, but nothing else happened. I tried again with similar results, and then scrambled for other options. I bit at her cheeks, kicked at her gut, slapped at her ears, and only got ineffective responses. I felt the frustration boil inside me, and then I stopped, and looked down.

Well… she is a succubus after all. Maybe violence isn’t the right route.

I took a deep breath, and steeled myself.

Alright, Angela, you can be sexy. I know she’s a seductress from the depths of hell, and you’re a dead virgin whose only sexual experience is catching your brother masturbating, but you got this! Confidence! I am a sexy beast! I have the best pickup lines, and my feminine intuition is second to none! I’m not a dead virgin; I am the angel of pussy!

I floated down between Justina’s legs, and stared blankly at the calculus-level math problem that is the human vagina.

Ok… that’s clearly the labia, and that’s the clitoris, and that’s the… what the fuck is that? C’mon Angela, you have a vagina, you should know this! Ok, maybe I’ll just put my fingers right… there. Hey, I can feel that! Oh my god, I can feel that!

“Hey, Brandon!” I yelled over my shoulder, “I’m touching Justina’s-”

Oh, right; Brandon is being enslaved by a psychotic whore; back to work.

I pushed a little harder, but my fingers simply passed through Justina’s glistening, pink skin. She didn’t seem to notice that we had made contact, but I knew that I was making progress. I gritted my teeth, and then touched her again, this time on the clitoris. My fingers connected with the flesh, and I could feel her warmth radiating into me. I didn’t try to push harder, but simply caressed back and forth along the erogenous bead of the teenaged seductress. I looked up at her to see if she was feeling it, and I smiled as her eyes slowly cast downward.

Oh yeah, that feels good doesn’t it, Justina? You like it when I do this… when I do this thing to your… is that the vestibule or the frenulum? OK, dirty talk needs work, but baby steps, Angela; don’t try to hit a homerun with every swing. Just stick to the clitoris, and everything will be fine.

I rubbed gently along Justina’s clit, feeling the contact become more and more real with every pass of my fingers. At first, I could only sense the warmth of her skin, but soon after, I felt the wetness of her, the tender texture of her flesh, and then the quivering nature of her sensitive spot. Justina’s expression became a mixture of confusion and pleasure, and for the first time in my dead, adolescent life, I felt... something. It was a strange, foreign feeling, an emptiness-no… a craving. My breath quickened in my chest, and an aching, longing desire crept between my legs. I wanted to please this woman; I wanted to see her need brim behind her beautiful, violet irises, and then I wanted to fulfill that need. Without really knowing what I was doing, I withdrew my hand, and lowered my lips to her depths. I took an indulgent inhale, and I could smell her! The sweet stink of her hormone-rich arousal wafted into my nose, and leaked its seductive tendrils into the primal heart of my mind. I grinned broadly, and pushed my face against her.

JUSTINA

At first, it felt like the wind in my hair. Then, I felt one of my eyelashes bend. Then… then I felt something else. I glanced downward, and saw shimmer in the air between my legs. I cautiously withdrew my fingers, wondering if the sensation I felt was just an errant brush of my hand, but I still felt it. That girl… she had no substance before, but now, I could feel her. It was a slight feeling; a gentle brush that started against my outer-lips, then withdrew, then continued again against my clit. She stayed there, and the feeling became more and more pronounced the longer she lingered. What started as a soft tickle became a gentle caress, and then, I felt heat. Wet, soft, heat pressing against my petals, running through them with unpracticed, boorish motions. Was she… was she trying to eat me out? I widened the spread of my tan legs and looked down in fascination and arousal. The tender folds of my pussy pressed and deformed seemingly on their own as the wet heat ran through them. It felt good, but I still giggled at the inexperienced nature of the motions.

“Are you a virgin?” I laughed, “Lick once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no.’”

There was a tentative pause, and then a single stroke ran through me. I shivered at the feeling, and then laughed at the character behind it. I could tell she had to think about it; she was embarrassed about her inexperience. It was bizarre, to be eaten out by a specter, and I suspected most people would run away from the experience, but not me. I’m a succubus, but more importantly, I’m a scientist. Understanding comes from extensive research, and hands-on research is the best kind. Curiosity mixed with arousal inside me, and I felt a giddy sense of exhilaration stir in my chest.

“Did I feel your fingers before?” I asked, biting my lower lip in excitement.

A single lick coursed through me; flattening my labia and wetting my inner-lips with her lust.

“I thought I did,” I smiled, “do you want me to teach you how to please a woman, my ghostly, little pervert?”

A resounding ‘yes’ smeared across me, and my legs twitched in delight. I let out a girlish squeal and clapped my hands together.

“OK,” I smiled, shifting my hips and spreading my legs wider, “put your middle two fingers inside me, like this,” I said, turning my wrist so that my palm faced the ceiling, and extending my ring and middle finger, “then, curl them like this,” I said, slightly bending my fingers forward, “and press along the ceiling. You’ll find a spot, and believe me, you’ll know when you’ve hit it. Once you get that spot, just rub along it nice and slow.”

She did as I taught her, and she was an avid student. I corrected her form only once before she had her fingers on the sweet spot. I moaned a delighted tenor of pleasure as I felt her pressing against my tender depths and sliding her fingers through me.

“Now,” I grinned, watching in fascination as my pussy was spread open and violated by nothing at all, “put your mouth right here,” I gestured to my clit, “then wrap your lips around the hood, and gently (and I mean gently!), suck on it.”

I looked down as my clit reddened with a pressure I couldn’t see, and my hood pinched between invisible, sucking lips. My erogenous bead and the fleshy hood that bore it were stretched from my pussy, and then sucked carefully into the pleasuring mouth of the ethereal woman. This time, I didn’t moan. This time, I let out a cry of delight as the feeling surged through my nethers. Her fingers pressed harder against my spot, her lips sucked with more voracity, and an exhilarating rush of euphoria expanded within me. Holy shit, this girl is making me come!

ANGELA

I always considered myself to be heterosexual. I mean, I didn’t really know what my sexuality was, but I assumed that if I were alive, I’d like men. Now, I still might have a disposition for penis, but this pussy… well, it ain’t bad. Justina was delicious. I tasted her desire leaking into my mouth, and permeating its flavor into my throat. I grinned up at her as I twisted her clit between my sucking lips, watching in pride as the woman’s face became a portrait of ecstasy. I made her moan, whimper, and scream, and her weak, feminine tones only made me hunger for more. My invading fingers pressed along her ceiling, and I zeroed-in on her weak spot. It was easy to find; the face she made when I touched it, the convulsions that wracked her when I pressed onto it, and the flexing nature of her abdomen when I rubbed it, were all the evidence I needed. Watching her pleasure flourish from my hand and mouth made my arousal grow, and I grinded my thighs together beneath myself, almost feeling the skin that should be there, but the sensation eluded me. It was maddening, to be able to feel the parts of my body that touched Justina, but not the parts that seemed to scream with unfulfilled need. The frustration only compelled me to eat the woman with more passion, and I pressed my face harder against her delightful, tender petals.

The connection between Justina and myself became stronger with each passing second. It was as if she was somehow sharing her capacity to feel with me. Her pleasured face looked down at me; her luscious lips falling agape and quirking in a wondrous smile, her big, violet eyes shining with astonishment, and her brow furrowed and creased with lines about her smooth forehead. Her chest heaved in bouts of pleasure, and her petite, cute breasts jiggled softly with her lustful expirations. A sheen of glistening sweat glowed from her tan form, and her spread legs began to twitch with sporadic convulsions. She was coming. I hummed a low, growling moan as I sucked her parts deeper into my mouth, toying her sensitive bead with the tip of my tongue as my lips puffed around her. She started to pant like a bitch; her breaths short and sputtering, interrupted by manic laughs of pure delight. Her abdomen twitched in a chorus of convulsions, and she threw her head back and screamed as a fountain of juices splashed through my ethereal figure.

And then, I saw something. A connection, a line of energy, running from my mind to hers. I saw it clear as day; a blue, spiraling, flame of rope that bridged our very selves. I could feel its magnetic pull on my temples, and I knew I had to charge up it. So, I did. I focused all the will of my being, and launched my consciousness into hers. My ghostly body vanished behind me, and I drove my essence into the center of her mind.

BRANDON

Tera left my cock with a parting kiss, strings of precum bridging her luscious lips and my tip. She smiled up at me as she rose, planted her palms on my thighs and slid her perfect form up my torso. Her ample, succulent breasts squished against my chest, her toned abdomen stretched and flattened against my belly, and her thick thighs spread around my waist and squeezed softly. Her hands reached behind me and clasped gently together across the back of my neck, her long, elegant fingers trailing pleasantly through the hair behind my ears. Every part of me she touched melted into a relaxed, weakened state, save for the tension between my legs that only grew tighter.

“Are you ready to become a man?” she smiled down at me, her voice a melody of sweet lust. Her forehead touched mine, and her violet, sparkling eyes shone their excitement into my own. I could only grin back stupidly.

“You know, you can touch me,” she whispered, crinkling her nose affectionately as she smirked, “I’m not a display at a museum.”

I reached behind her, and rested my palms on the fat of her ass. The quirk of her devious grin beckoned me to continue, so I squeezed. She gasped slightly through her smiling mouth, and planted an affectionate kiss on my closed lips. The delectable flesh of her backside formed warm and soft in my hands, and protruded from between my gripping knuckles. She kissed me again, and her tongue flicked across my mouth, beckoning it to open. I did, and I tasted the sweet flavor of her as she invaded me. Her lips sucked with a gentle hedonism, and her tongue toyed with my own, playfully inviting me to engage with her. I reciprocated her affection, and drank in her lust as my eyes closed in bliss. She parted from the embrace in a gasp, and I could feel her heart thrumming through her pressing breasts. She reached back, grabbed my cock, and positioned it at her slick, tight entrance. I felt her petals give way to my rigid heat, and I felt her body weight shift slowly backward. Her violet eyes never left mine as she slowly, tenderly, took my virginity.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her words breathy in her excited exhalations, “let me take you all the way in.”

She did. Her wet, tight heat surrounded me, consumed me, pressed me on all sides in her lecherous embrace. She moaned softly as inch after inch entered her, and her moan grew in its intensity the deeper I got. My balls pressed against her taint, and her demonic tail curled behind her in satisfaction. Her wet, luscious lips parted to yield a soft whimper, and her comforting eyes wilted into an expression of vulnerability.

“God, Brandon,” she gasped, “you’re so deep inside me!”

For a moment, she lost control of herself, and I felt a surge of my former mind break through my lustful haze. She regained her composure faster than I could react, and she clenched around me in a hold that nearly caused me to come right there.

“You almost had me there,” she winked, smiling, moaning as she began to shift her hips, “for most men, just a single touch will make them my slaves, but you’re not most men, Brandon.”

“What are you talking about?” I groaned, gripping her by the hips as she gyrated on top of me; her thighs squeezing my waist, her ass rotating behind her, my cock stirring her insides as she pulled me into her with the motion of her grinds.

“You’re a god, Brandon,” she said, gasping the words, seemingly getting turned on by the very idea of them, “you’re a Creator, a force of nature more powerful than a hurricane, and you’re all mine.”

“Tera,” I growled in pleasure, “I’m just some fucking guy.”

“That’s very modest of you,” Tera laughed, her mirth melodic and sweet, “but come now, Brandon; even if you weren’t a god, with this thing between your legs, you’re more than just some fucking guy.”

Her motions became more fervent, more impassioned. She arched her back; pushing her perfect ass out from her body, pressing her silky torso deeper against my belly, and thrusting her supple breasts upward, squishing them against my chest. The rotations of her hips drew me ever deeper, and I could feel the contractions streaming inside her with every subtle thrust of my pelvis. My cock glided into her welcoming heat, and rubbed along her clit as I drove in contest with her lascivious motions.

“What makes you think I am what you say I am?” I asked, locking into her rhythm and pumping as she pushed our pelvises together.

“Your sister is dead, Brandon,” Tera smiled, her mouth partially agape and exhaling sweet tones, “but she’s still here. How much power do you think it takes to defy death itself?”

“But,” I sputtered, gritting my teeth as I forced an orgasm down, “I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes, you did,” Tera gasped, reaching behind me and clutching my shoulders for leverage, dragging her warm, soft body against mine, “you just didn’t know what you were doing. Extreme stress can unlock the power of a Creator,” she turned my chin up to meet hers, and she displayed a set of sparkling white teeth between her lush lips, “or extreme pleasure.”

Her hand moved from my chin and entangled in the hair at the back of my head. She gently pulled backward, and I compliantly tilted my head to reveal the vulnerable curve of my neck. She kissed me there, softly, comfortingly, and I felt my mind lose its need to question her. I couldn’t sense… what was her name again? The woman… the girl… she was always with me, wasn’t she? Where was she? Where did she go? It didn’t matter; nothing but Tera mattered. Tera’s thighs gently squeezing my waist, Tera’s soft abdomen sinking into my belly, Tera’s warm breasts squishing against my chest, and Tera’s tender kisses sucking love against my neck, were the only things that mattered. The warmth of her body, the softness of her flesh, the soothing nature of her motions, and the tight, delicate heat of her insides were the only things present in the world. She massaged me from within; drawing me deeper into her lust with the lewd muscles of her erogeneity as her seduction drew me further from my mind with the gentle guidance of her enslavement.

ANGELA

My mind was flooded with fractured memories, odd sensations, blurs of images and words, and a swirling tempest of different emotions. It was maddening, excruciating, and utterly confusing, but I gritted my mental teeth, and stormed through it, hoping it would calm. Eventually, it did, and I opened someone else’s eyes.

Hello? a voice called from the depths of my mind.

Justina? I asked, looking down to see a tan, beautiful naked body stretching below me.

Are you the ghost? Justina asked, the one whose fingers were just inside me? Is your name Angela?

Yup! I responded brightly, That’s me! How’d you guess that?

Your mind is in my brain, and our thoughts are open to each other; this is truly fascinating, Justina said, a touch of awe in her mental voice, can you move me?

I looked down at my…our hand, and tested the nerves. It splayed just like I wanted it to, and I moved it in front of my eyes, turning it over along the wrist as a flood of emotion poured into me.

Oh my god, I thought, my mental voice quivering as though tears were welling, I can feel everything!

It’s so beautiful, Justina sniffled, this means so much to you!

Why are you getting all teary-eyed? I asked her, feeling my emotion edging my voice.

We share the same mind now, Justina said, her words wavering in the same euphoria I felt, emotions are just chemical reactions in the brain prompted by external stimulus, so your emotions are my emotions, and visa-versa. I’ve been trying to stay emotionally blank for you; I don’t want to contaminate the sample.

You’re quite the little scientist, aren’t you? I said, flipping through the pages of our mind, experiencing the memories of Justina, Always doing experiments, always forming a hypothesis, always- I cut off as I got to a particular memory. I let it linger there, feeling extremely awkward.

Hey, stop that! Justina yelled, Stop feeling awkward, you’re making me feel awkward!

Justina, I said, experiencing this memory in her mind, feeling the emotions she felt then, mingling with our present emotions, Are you gonna… are you gonna explain this one to me?

Mom says I’m not old enough to feed myself, Justina said, so I take the left overs; can you stop feeling so fucking uncomfortable?! It’s completely natural for a young succubus!

You’re sucking sperm out of your mother’s asshole, I said frankly, feeling the breadth of the memory; tasting the memory of her mother’s ass on my tongue, feeling the memory of her mother’s fingers in my body, feeling Justina’s past arousal, her present annoyance, and my own disgust mix into a concoction of volatile emotion, and it feels like you both really enjoyed the experience.

Yes, it’s a wonderful mother-daughter bonding moment, Justina said, there’s a whole brain full of them if you’re feeling frisky, but for now, I think we should keep our memories in check; I certainly don’t want to remember your death-STOP REMEMBERING YOUR DEATH!

Sorry, I said, feeling Justina’s horror fade as I pushed back the memory, but you brought it up. It’s kind of hard not remembering something when someone else mentions it.

OK, Justina said with an exaggerated exhale, as if she were breathing the memory out of her, what’s the plan?

The plan? I asked, I don’t have a plan; I’ve just been winging it. I don’t even know how I got here!

I suddenly realized that I could help Brandon. I looked down at the crossbow under the desk, and Justina immediately seized control of our motor functions.

No, no, no, Justina said firmly, that is not going to happen. This is still my brain, and this is still my body; you’re not using it to kill my mother.

At least help me pull her off of him! I yelled.

I’m willing to help you, Justina said, but my mother is hundreds of years old, trained in elite combat, and could easily seduce me if she so desired. Besides that, I quite like her, and don’t feel like straining our relationship.

But you’re willing to help? I asked.

Hold on a second, Justina said, and I could sense her carefully shuffling through the pages of my subconscious, try to keep your mind neutral.

What are you doing? I asked her as the memory of me frantically flying between Justina’s room, and the space above Tera’s head appeared in our mind.

Testing a theory, Justina replied, showing me the idea she was forming in our mind, a Creator’s power is unlocked during times of extreme pleasure or stress. Knowing a crossbow is being aimed at your testicles is probably pretty stressful.

What the fuck is a Creator? I asked.

An ancient being with god-like power-I know, you don’t believe me, but for now, just hear me out.

The memory slowed to a crawl. Brandon was looking at me fearfully, his eyes begging me to find a way to save him. As the memory passed, I saw a blue tendril of power burst from his mouth, and fly right into my chest. It was so fast that it could barely be seen, and I was so scared that I didn’t notice it in the moment, but looking back on it, it was as clear as day. The blast of power was the manifestation of a plea, but it wasn’t really a plea, it was… a command. As the recollection slowly passed, I somehow intuitively knew what the command said: “find help.”

And you did, Justina said, Brandon gave you the power to interact with me. I could see some form of you when no one else could, but that’s not all he did.

This time, one of Justina’s memories played before our eyes. It was of Justina, bursting from her concealed room and looking at Brandon. Another stream of power flowed from Brandon’s mouth, words that he didn’t form with his lips, but with the pleas of his heart. “Help me,” they said to Justina, and then another blast of power shot to me, “get her to help me.”

Brandon created a connection between us, Justina said, he didn’t know what he was doing, but he did it. Succubi connect with other species in only one intimate way: sex. So, our connection strengthened with our lust. I have another crazy theory, if you want to hear it.

I’m all ears. I responded, trying to keep my confusion in check for fear of messing with Justina’s progress.

You are the complete manifestation of Brandon’s power, Justina said, he should have exhibited some signs of his godhood by now, but to everyone else’s eyes, Brandon is just some guy. That’s because he’s poured every ounce of his divine strength into keeping you ‘alive.’ He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but every time external stress prompts him to use his power, his first instinct is to give it to you, to protect you, or for you to protect him. He can’t help himself; ever since he saved you from passing on, his divine reflexes have been trained to you. Now, here’s the kicker; you ready for this shit?

Uh… sure. I said, feeling a little intimidated by Justina’s words and the tone of her mental voice. She seemed to talk faster and faster, as if her revelation was bursting from her subconscious in a manic vomit of words. She was obviously extremely excited about what she’d found.

The kicker is, Justina said, allowing a dramatic pause, you’re in my head now. My brain is supporting your existence without Brandon’s help, but he doesn’t know it. He has the power to save himself right now!

We need to tell him! I said excitedly.

No, we don’t, Justina chuckled, we just need to watch, and wait. Extreme pleasure unlocks the power of a Creator, Angela; let’s watch your brother come inside my mother.

TERA

Oh my god, this cock is good!

In all my years of debauchery, I’d never lain with a man like Brandon. His rigid member pierced into my most sensitive depths, separating my folds and violating my sanctity. His motions were timid and shy, which was perfect for me, because if this man started gaining confidence, he’d own me in a second. Still, even though he was inexperienced and awkward, he resisted me. It was infuriating and arousing at the same time. He should’ve been mine by now, but he wasn’t. I watched his eyes, waiting for them to turn violet, waiting for them to reflect the corruption of his mind, but they stayed a stubborn blue.

“Come to me, Brandon,” I whispered in his ear, leaking my intoxicating tones into his mind, “become mine.”

I grinded my hips with increased fervency, my motions bordering on desperation. My ass jutted outward and deepened the angle of my arching back, causing the folds of flesh along my waist to crease about the bend. I brought my pelvis forward in the continuation of my motion; flexing my abdomen against his belly as my hips drove against him. His cock stirred my insides with the movement, and my passionate assault only served to drive me further into the depths of my own manic lust. I was losing control of myself in my attempt to take him. His timid thrusts started to grow in their ardency, and I felt the panic rise with the ascension of my pleasure.

“Why do you resist me?” I asked him, trying to keep the seduction in my voice, and the nearly-uncontrollable pleasure out of it, “Don’t you want me?”

“Yes,” he replied hoarsely, seemingly unaware that he was gaining an edge on me, “god, I want you.”

“Then give in to me,” I said, almost pleadingly, now unable to keep the desperate pleasure from ringing in my tones, “I’ll do anything you want, Brandon; there are no depths I won’t stoop to for you.”

My words only encouraged him to thrust harder. A sharp inhale of breath shot through my gritted teeth as I combated the feeling inside me. I felt my control wane, and my body move without my permission, compelled by the euphoria building within me. The controlled, deliberate grinds of my hips changed from steady oscillations, to whorish, needful motions. Instead of seductive circular passes, I began to rise and fall in congruence with Brandon’s thrusts, fucking myself as he fucked me. His cock pushed through me; his length impaling the deepest reaches of my lust, his girth stretching me in all the right ways. My clit ran along his shaft with each pass of our motions, and the feeling of it rubbing along him as he defiled me sent aching pleasure deep into my pelvis. I knew I should stop, I knew I should cut my losses, but I couldn’t help myself. I no longer moaned with the sultry pleasure of a woman in control, but cried out with the panicked yelps of a slut being taken. The easy smile I once wore was replaced with gaping, quivering lips that only pleaded for more, and the blissful gaze of my eyes turned to wide-eyed, teary windows of uncontrollable ecstasy.

Suddenly, Brandon changed. His grip on my ass tightened until it hurt, and he pulled me close to him, pressing my body to his. I held to him desperately, clinging to his shoulders, unable to pull myself from the pleasure he was forcing into me as he regained control of himself. He held my pelvis in stasis, trapping it with his strong arms, and he thrust into me in a fury of blasts. I screamed into his chest, tears welling in my eyes as the pleasure ripped up my spine. His motions became violent, turning my elegant body into a blur of jiggling tan flesh and flailing hair, and I reveled in it.

“What happened to you, Tera?” Brandon asked, teasing mirth in his voice, “Did you give up on me? I’m insulted; I thought you really wanted me.”

“Brandon!” I screamed, looking through tear-streaked eyes at his face above me, “Stop!”

“Stop?!” Brandon laughed, pumping into me so hard the chair was shaking beneath us, “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I’m sorry!” I screamed, feeling the pressure ballooning inside me, “Just please, stop!”

“It doesn’t sound like you really want me to stop,” Brandon grinned down, “is this you playing hard to get? You know I hate it when women do that.”

Brandon gripped my ass in a vice-hold, squeezing the flesh until it stung beautifully. He picked me up like I was nothing, turned us around, and then unceremoniously dropped me into the chair. I couldn’t help m