The Succubus
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The Two Truths Of The Incu-Succubus free porn video
This story is a different kind of collaboration. We decided on a loose
set of rules, including the opening line, and a line that had to be
included somewhere in the story. Each contribution had to be roughly
1000 words. The title was also jointly agreed upon. After that, it was
just "go for it".
The text of one of our decisive e-mails:
Alright, how about calling the story "The Incu-Succubus"? The first line
of our story will be, "'Balthazar, Prusidia, you idiots!' the devil
yelled." The middle of the story must include the line, "And that's what
really happened, boss." Categories will be totally up to you and I!
The Two Truths Of The Incu-Succubus
By Roy Del Frink and Jacquie Windsor
The First Truth
By Roy Del Frink.
"Balthazar, Prusidia, you idiots!" the devil yelled. "How could you let
this happen?"
"Let me explain," Balthazar explained. "You see..."
"...we didn't know what was happening, and..." Prusidia added.
"An explanation. Great. And I'm usually the one that CAUSES torment.
Oh, well, at least I have a couple free centuries or so to hear this. Go
on," Satan told his underlings. And so Balthazar and Prusidia told their
Supreme Leader exactly what went on.
It all began a sunny spring afternoon. Balthazar was laying back and
resting. Days like this always brought out the most in him. Love was in
the air, and the singles scene was thus ripe for conquest. After dinner
and a date, Balthazar always enjoyed taking his latest fling over to his
place for a little playful romp, followed by dinner. His favorite kind
of dinner. Female human souls. You see, Balthazar was an incubus, a
male demon who feeds off the sexual energy of females. He needed to have
sex with at least eight women a day. Visiting prostitutes would usually
take care of that, but Balthazar's greatest need was for souls. At least
one every week was needed to satisfy his voracious appetite. That's where
the dates came in. He always did the deed on a Friday night, screwing
his victim, then squeezing her very being out of her body as she
climaxed. It was time for Balthazar to hit the rounds for his weekly
"date", so he disguised himself as an ordinary human and left for his
favorite bar.
He assumed the guise of "Barry," a well-built, well-hung body builder.
As he scanned the Cat's Meow, he found an erotic, exotic woman. She had
blonde hair down to her buns. Her unusually exaggerated hourglass form
was marked by huge fake breasts, a lithe waist, and firm, enticing hips.
Her face was coated in makeup, and the mole on her cheek made him drool.
She almost oozed "sexy slut". Perfect for the incubus. He walked up to
her, and asked her name. She told him, "My friends call me Priscilla,
but you can call me anything you want. What's your name, you big,
gaping, hunk of a man?"
"I'm Barry. Wanna go out with me?"
"It's a deal!" The lady gave Balthazar the name and time of a good
restaurant to meet him at that night, and she walked off in an
oh-so-sultry manner. The mere thought of her made Balthazar's lips
drool. "Balthazar, my boy, you are going to have one kick-ass dinner
tonight!" he thought as he left the bar.
Back at his apartment, Balthazar prepared for his date, thinking with
lustful pride at how much he'd enjoy his Priscilla Cutlets. "Wow, two
deadly sins at once," Balthazar thought to himself, "The boss should
promote me for that!" When the hour came, he went to the restaurant and
met Priscilla.
"Hiyah, cutey," she told him. "You look like a sight for sore eyes."
"So do you," Balthazar replied. As they sat down to dinner, the incubus
couldn't keep her off of his mind. When the meal was over, he escorted
her over to "Barry's" place for some good lovin', and eatin'.
***
In another part of town, Prusidia was laying back and resting. Days like
this always brought out the most in her. Love was in the air, and the
singles scene was thus ripe for conquest. After dinner and a date,
Prusidia always enjoyed taking her latest fling over to her place for a
little playful romp, followed by dinner. Her favorite kind of dinner.
Male human souls. You see, Prusidia was a succubus, a female demon who
feeds off the sexual energy of males. She needed to have sex with at
least eight men a day. Working as a prostitute would usually take care
of that, but Prusidia's greatest need was for souls. At least one every
week was needed to satisfy her voracious appetite. That's where the dates
came in. She always did the deed on a Friday night, screwing her victim,
then squeezing his very being out of his body as he climaxed. It was
time for Prusidia to hit the rounds for her weekly "date," so she
disguised herself as an ordinary human and left for her favorite bar.
She assumed the guise of "Priscilla," a voluptuous, slutty woman. As she
scanned the Cat's Meow, she found a big, bulky man. He had muscles all
over his torso. His tall, well-chiseled features were marked by thick
biceps, a washboard stomach, and short, manly brown hair. His face was
unusually handsome, and the bulge in his pants made her drool. He almost
oozed "manly stud". Perfect for the succubus. He walked up to her, and
asked her name. She told him, "My friends call me Priscilla, but you can
call me anything you want. What's your name, you big, gaping, hunk of a
man?"
"I'm Barry. Wanna go out with me?"
"It's a deal!" The lady gave him the name and time of a good restaurant
to meet him at that night, and she walked off in an oh-so-sultry manner.
The mere thought of him made Prusidia's lips drool. "Prusidia, my girl,
you are going to have one kick-ass dinner tonight!" she thought as she
left the bar.
Back at her apartment, Prusidia prepared for her date, thinking with
lustful pride at how much she'd enjoy her Barry Cutlets. "Wow, two
deadly sins at once," Prusidia thought to herself, "The boss should
promote me for that!" When the hour came, she went to the restaurant and
met Barry.
"Hiyah, cutey," she told him. "You look like a sight for sore eyes."
"So do you," "Barry replied. As they sat down to dinner, the succubus
couldn't keep him off of her mind. When the meal was over, "Priscilla"
followed him over to his place for some good lovin', and eatin'.
***
At the apartment, things started off well enough. Since both sex demons
were hot for each other, they skipped the chatter and went straight for
the foreplay. After centuries of practice, they were experts at getting
others off, and both had better sex than they'd enjoyed in years. Still,
Balthazar and Prusidia couldn't help but think about the main course, and
how delicious it would be.
"So, Barry, how's you wanna do me?"
"How about doggy-style, Priscilla? Then I can grab those luscious bags
of meat on your chest as I penetrate you, and we'll both have more fun."
"I've done it every way you could possibly imagine with a man. Hope
you'll like it."
"Believe me, I've done it every way you could possibly imagine with a
woman, and I can't think of any other way I'd enjoy it more!"
Pleasantries out of the way, they headed straight for the intercourse.
Though so enjoyable both thought it had to be a sin, Balthazar and
Prusidia had other things on their mind.
"This is better sex than I've had in decades!" Balthazar thought to
himself. "And to top it off, I've got the perfect soul to suck for
dessert!" Similar thoughts went through Prusidia's head.
Instinctively, both Balthazar and Prusidia knew when the other was about
to cum. (It's amazing what kind of instincts being a sex demon will give
you!) So they both held off until they were ready, after nearly six
hours of fucking. (It's also amazing what kind of sexual abilities being
a sex demon will give you.)
Finally, both lost their patience. Balthazar and Prusidia would come
simultaneously in seconds. Balthazar thought, "Here it comes, the
greatest feast of my infernal life!" Prusidia thought the same thing.
Balthazar said, "Priscilla, I've got a little secret to confess. This is
about to get better."
Prusidia replied, "I was about to tell you the same thing, Barry!"
Balthazar quickly changed into his true demonic form as Prusidia closed
her eyes just before coming. Prusidia quickly changed into her true
demonic form as Balthazar closed his eyes just before coming. And then,
just as they both erupted, they started to suck on an enormous soul
feast. Both incubus and succubus experienced an incomparable thrill as
they felt the energy swell into their bodies, screaming in ecstasy the
whole time. And then...
Nothing.
Balthazar was worried. "Shouldn't there have been a loud scream, like a
person losing their eternal soul to damnation for all time?" he thought
to himself.
He heard a feminine voice reply, "I know. Something is amiss here."
"Wait a minute. How can you possibly hear my thoughts?"
"And you mine? What's going on here?"
Both Balthazar and Prusidia opened their eyes, and were shocked at what
they saw. Somehow, they'd sucked each other's souls into a single body,
with no trace of their old ones! Both had separate heads, with two arms
at each side. Despite that, "they" had just two legs between them.
There was a magnificent pair of breasts atop a muscular, otherwise male
chest. But the biggest surprise was in the groin. They had a male organ
and a female organ, side by side.
"What the hell?" Balthazar thought to himself.
"I don't understand either," Prusidia replied. "This isn't supposed to
happen to a succubus."
"Uh oh. So you're a succubus, right?"
"Of course. The Succubus Prusidia."
"Damn! I should have known something was wrong. No mere mortal could
possibly have sex like that. I'm the Incubus Balthazar."
"Shit! You know what that means, don't you?"
"Or course. Chapter 7 of the Sex Demon's Guidebook, Page 666, on
devouring souls: 'No incubus shall ever be able to devour a succubus's
soul, since they are immortal. Similarly, no succubus shall ever be able
to devour an incubus's soul. Should this law ever be disobeyed, Satan
himself shall set the punishment'."
Prusidia recalled. "I'm surprised. I've been around the block many
times, and I don't recognize you."
"Nor you I," Balthazar replied. "I wonder why"
"Because you're the stupidest sex demons in all of Hell!" a thunderously
ominous voice yelled. Both Balthazar and Prusidia turned their heads
towards the Big Man Downstairs. "Now you've got some explaining to do!"
***
"And that's what really happened, boss," Balthazar concluded.
"Fine. I'm willing to let you off this time since it was an accident,
but don't EVER do it again. If you do, you'll be assigned to the lowest,
most degrading form of punishment in all of Hell."
"Oh no! Not writing speeches for politicians!" Prusidia yelled.
"Of course that's what it means. So un-straighten up and crash right!
You two will remain conjoined until the end of this century. In the
meantime, you will be confined to Hell. Fortunately, I've altered your
body chemistry so you'll no longer need to suck on human souls to
survive. Be lucky your uncles are both powerful arch-demons!" With
that, Satan walked off, leaving the incu-succubus to contemplate their
fate. They walked together into Balthazar's quarters, and then lay there
bored.
"Well, this bites," Balthazar complained. "What do you wanna do?"
"Why don't we watch TV?" Prusidia replied.
"Okay." Balthazar picked up the remote, and the two watched "Djinn
Drek," one of many really dumb sitcoms created by Hell's advertising
executives. It was a dull episode, even by Hell's standards. Djinn
ordered his crew to search for lithium crystals to get the ship going.
"Dammit, I'm a doctor, Djinn, not a miner!" Dr. Skin N. "Bones" McKay
replied. "Why don't you just generate the crystals yourself?"
"Because of the laws of conservation of energy, which I am bound to
uphold despite my magical powers."
The engineer, Scotchy, put down his glass of whiskey and complained, "Are
you saying you canna' break the laws of physics, Djinn?"
"Boooring," Balthazar complained. "Honestly, I don't understand why I
even keep this thing." With that, he turned the TV off.
"So, I guess there's only one thing left to do," Prusidia replied. She
picked up Balthazar's penis, and inserted it into her own vagina. As
they started up the sexual activity they knew so well, both Balthazar and
Prusidia felt the thrill of penetrating themselves, a joy neither had
known before. As the creature came twice simultaneously, Balthazar
couldn't help telling Prusidia something.
"You know what?"
"What, Balthazar?"
"I think I could get to enjoy this!"
---
[email protected]
---
The Second Truth
By Jacquie Windsor.
"Balthazar, Prusidia, you idiots!" the devil yelled.
Patrons at 'Le Jaune Bec du Canard' were beginning to complain to the
nonchalant serving staff. The presence of an indescribably hideous
vermilion-tinged daemon and the two grey-skinned hellspawn was
increasingly more disturbing than whatever floated half-submerged in
their soup bowls. The cream of Marseilles' society rued the day they
collectively chose the Lord Of Darkness, who used the surreptitious
moniker Mortimer Satan (the last name pronounced 'shay-tan' in the Czech
style), to be the Mayor of their beachside city.
"Balthazar! You explain this first," demanded the King Of The
Underworld. "How could you allow Jesus Christ to return to earth, as the
new lifeguard on 'Baywatch Venezuela', no less."
Balthazar scratched at his long grey hair with his yellowy talons.
"Urgh, the spell musta kinda fucked up. It's Prusidia's fault, ya know."
The Emperor Of The Undead turned to his other henchman. "You got an
answer? Maybe at the same time figure out for me how Lao-Tzu got back.
And that shit is the high-yield bond king out on Wall Street. He killed
the Cameroon government with a simple signature. You know how much work
it took for me just to subvert those motherfuckers in the Cameroon's?"
"We didn't mean to, Your Filthiness. We can fix it. Balthazar forgot
that we daemons read from right to left, so he got all the spells the
wrong way. Instead of banishing the unholy and powerless to the ether,
he accidentally returned the sage and the true from the ether to our, uh,
Your domain here on earth. They're more powerful and irresistible than
ever, Your Crappyship. It was nothing but a slip of the forked tongue.
And that's the way it really happened."
"Undo what you did, eh?" squinted the Captain Of The Stygian Mists.
"Might be worth a whirl."
"My soup's got no hair in it," added Balthazar. "Can I order one with at
least a strand?"
"Arrrrrr-rrrrr-ghghghgh," cried Monsieur Satan. "No time to waste, you
stupid, anti-smart, witless piece of devolution. We have to get to Orly
in an instant. We have work to perform. Deeds to do. Muck to rake.
Doings to undo. If I see the face of that fat-ass Buddha once more on my
television, exhorting me to rinse with Listermint, I'll just puke!"
In an unearthly flash of inspiration, the trio was at once aboard a
healthy Concorde, winging stealthily across the Atlantic Ocean to fix the
errors caused by the two ridiculous minor shades that worked, loosely
defined, for the Grandee Of The Doomed. So quickly that even a death
mask's grin would curl, the supersonic jet deposited its occupants at the
Miami International Airport, with a suitably black limousine whisking
them across the peninsula to the resort town of St. Petersburg.
Settling into a fine hotel room, and bribing the staff with exorbitant
sums of ill-gotten cash, the daemons prepared to enact the plan that
Monsieur Satan had contrived on the flight over to the United States.
"I still don't get it," sighed Balthazar. "How is opening a new strip
joint in Florida gonna undo our stupidity?"
"Oh me, you are retarded," smirked the Overseer Of Mangled Spirituality.
"Regard with a pensiveness that no doubt exists beyond your capacity.
See these fine young men and women co-mingling in this fiery atmosphere
of sex and abandon?"
Prusidia and Balthazar watched silently as the willing patrons, young
male college students on leave from their colleges for a single week in
spring, lined up and paid borrowed cash to the hellish bouncers in order
to gawk at dozens of lithe female dancers.
"The girls are all my shades, in sooth," smiled the Anti-God. "One kiss
from their lips shall force such transformation upon those imbeciles that
they shall never recover."
The two henchmen followed the wide gesture made by their hell-born boss.
In one corner of the flashy new club, a gorgeous, tanned,
silicone-enhanced girl writhed in the lap of a drooling young fan. She
leaned forward to kiss his neck, rubbing her ample breasts into his chest
as she did so. The college boy sat in quiet shock after she pushed away
from him, tasting the air for a fresh victim.
Before their eyes, the two error-prone subjects of the Un-Diety saw a
remarkable transformation unfold. The fraternity brother shrank into his
seat, softening, ageing rapidly, and turning into a very old woman.
This scene repeated itself in rapid succession throughout the nightclub.
The rear exit opened and allowed a procession of cane-wielding, stooped,
transformed retirees to escape the smoky interior of the building and
into a line of waiting buses.
"Old women in buses?" asked Balthazar. "What's the big deal?"
"The deal, as you put it," snorted the devil, "is that those buses are
all headed for Palm Beach."
Prusidia frowned in complete ignorance.
"Prusidia, you ought to be more clever than a mound of sawdust. Remember
when we recruited Carmen Electra during her last TV season? I managed to
deflate her into a bodysuit, just waiting for the right candidate to use
it on, if you'll excuse the expression."
"Pretty much, I always pack her in your suitcase, too," Prusidia answered
to the Greater Daemon From Hell. "But, the transformed frat boys? I
dunno."
"Those old ladies are being transported to Palm Beach right now. To do a
little voting."
Balthazar noticed a television screen in the corner of the club. A
grave-looking newscaster indicated a row of grey-haired old women heading
towards a polling station. He recognised that some of them had just been
at the new club they'd started on the western coast of Florida.
"Old women voting?" asked Balthazar. "How's that gonna fix anything?"
"Simple as one, two, three," beamed the Supreme Condemnificationist.
"You two screwed up royally, but I'll more than make up for it once Dubya
succeeds. Those old women are just the tip of the Satanic iceberg. Once
he wriggles into the Carmen Electra bodysuit, we'll really see the fur
fly!"
"How are you so sure that Dubya will win?" asked Prusidia.
"Because," grinned the Ultimate Evildoer, toying with a half-punched
electoral ballot. "I had these designed specifically for this moment."
---
[email protected]
---
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