Feature Writer: ppr128
Feature Title: SUBURBAN SUCCUBUS 4
Published: 30.07.2009
Story Codes: Erotic Horror, Magic, Paranormal, Incest
Synopsis: A son with a succubus fetish gets his hands on a tome that actually works, leading to some unintended results with his mother.
Author’s Notes: Hello, all. I am a big believer in the Tags system for stories, finding them to be of great assistance in locating stories relevant to my interests. Although I have done my best to apply them correctly to this story, there are some odd elements to it that made it difficult to correctly categorize. As such, the reader should be warned to expect the following: Mother/Son incest and Demonic Possession. I toyed with filing it under the Non-Consent/Reluctance tag (the mother is possessed and the son isn’t really into it) but was unsure of how well that would fit. In any case, I hope you enjoy…
About the story: We live in a world that is pretty strictly defined by scientific laws and rationalism, with the old notions of spirituality ignored at best and mocked openly at worst. But imagine, for a second, if magic were real. What if you could hypnotize your boss at will, making them give you a pay rise and requiring you to only work a fraction of the hours you usually did? What if you could give the jerk on the other end of the customer service line for your utilities a migraine for screwing up your account? Best of all, what if you could summon up a succubus, the very personification of lust and feminine sexuality, for a romp in the hay? That’d be pretty awesome, right? Yeah, well. I used to think that, too. I couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried. So what went wrong? Well, here’s the story…
Suburban Succubus
Chapter 4: Damnation for Fun and Profit
With my heart pumping as I all but drooled over the barely clothed form of my mother, I scrambled to work how best to respond to Liira’s challenge. Obviously, she was going for the I’m-such-a-naughty-girl schtick, one of the stand-bys of the gigabytes of porn cached in zipped, password-protected files on my lap-top. If Liira saw no need to be inventive, neither did I; I wobbled off the bed and stood up, trying to look suitably stern. Of course, stripped naked and with my junk heaving up and down in front of me ruined the effect somewhat, but I blustered on.
“That’s right, um … young lady. That’s not the sort of thing this establishment stands for,” I temporised, stalking over until I was in her face. She whimpered a little, pretending to feel fear for the sake of the fantasy that we were re-enacting. Her eyes downcast, she feigned mortification. “But sir, I’ll do anything you say to get out of this.” She looked back up me, her eyes glazed over with lust. Liira seductively bit her lower lip, crossing her arms under her bust to emphasise my mother’s exposed cleavage. Remembering yesterday morning when I had said the same thing to Liira whilst pleading for clemency, my ire rose. I shocked the both of us, grabbing one pigtail and dragging my mother to her knees. My cock bounced around in front of my mother’s eyes with the sudden movement, and Liira took the opportunity to capture me in her mouth.
This time, she elected not to use her formidable skills. Instead of the erotic assault I’d been subjected to about an hour ago, she was hesitant this time, heightening the illusion we were sharing. She had some trouble with my size, gagging as my glans struck the back of her throat, whilst her tongue did little more than hold me in place whilst she moved my mother’s lips up and down my shaft. Despite the difference involved, it was no less sensuous for me, but tired of the game, I lifted her back to her feet, planting her back in the position she had been mere moments before. This time, though, I left with her thighs demurely together rather than displaying what she had available for my pleasure.
I slipped one hand inside the folded-back silk blouse, gently squeezing at the breast contained by the marvellous technology of the push-up bra. Liira gasped, and I took it as a signal to stimulate my mother’s other erogenous zone, rubbing my other hand against the sleek satin that hid her groin. The dampness that had originally demarcated the cleft at her groin had spread, soaking up around much of her pubic region and discolouring the red of the fabric. I raised that hand to my nose, scenting my mother’s sexual secretions before I held the same hand out to Liira. She wrinkled her nose in mock disgust, and tried to turn away; I clapped it over her mouth. With seeming reluctance, she licked the drying fluid from my fingers, her apparent enthusiasm growing as she worked her way down my hand.
Without preamble, I pulled my mother’s panties to one side, hooking the crotch around one of her puffy lips. Before the fabric could stretch back into place, I moved forwards and slid slightly into her. For a wonder, the makeshift hook of my mother’s flesh held, and I thrust back and forth in her. Liira’s expression changed to one of exaggerated shock at my forwardness, and in her little-girl voice she whimpered “Oh, sir, I don’t think this is the sort of punishment you’re meant to use.” I simply ignored her, speeding up and burying more of myself in her with each inward thrust. Within moments, Liira began to respond, her hips moving in time with my rhythm, increasing the sensations I felt. As we continued in that position, I took the opportunity afforded to me to leave my mother mostly clothed. Small consolation when I was still violating her flesh without her consent, but at least this time I didn’t have to deal with her breasts flopping all over the place.
At length, the body beneath me tensed, shuddering into orgasm. I kept my hands well away from my mother’s breasts or clitoris, making Liira do all the work. Out of nowhere, felt my own orgasm coming upon me; startled by its suddenness, I too froze up; Liira smirked, dropping again to her knees. The merest touch of her hand was enough to send me over the edge; she aimed my wildly firing penis in the manner of a porn movie’s money-shot, covering my mother’s face with thick, pearly ropes of my semen, running down over her chin towards those perfect breasts. Releasing my cock, she ran an outstretched finger up her throat, collecting the filmy mucous and swallowing it. She repeated the process with the rest of my ejaculate, dramatically over-emphasising each movement. The effect was mesmerising. Once as clean as she could get, Liira stood up, rising to her tiptoes and planting a light kiss on my forehead.
Sinking back onto her heels and her regular height, she grinned impishly up at me. “I know what you tried to do there, mortal, and I will not stand for it. Besides, it is really no fun if you do not involve yourself in the proceedings.” With a knowing tilt to her eyebrows, she flounced out of my room, closing the door behind her. Evidently I had been granted a stay of execution for the night, as she turned off the hallway lights behind her, fired up the shower again, and was then silent in my mother’s room.
Great, I thought. Just fucking great. She turns the evening into a bukkake spectacular starring my mother, and what do I do? I get into it. I don’t know what frightened me more, how easily Liira could over-ride the instincts that told me screwing my mother was wrong, or how much I was beginning to enjoy it. Whilst the context was wrong beyond imagining, Liira had given me easily the best sex I had ever experienced. I wasn’t sure I could imagine anything else ever measuring up; even if I somehow managed to make it with someone who could match her skills in the bedroom, I was unsure every single moment would be so note-perfect.
I killed the lights in my room and sank back into my bed, staring up into the darkness. I spent the night in a fitful sleep, awoken by nothing. Well, not by nothing; I was catapulted into wakefulness once by a sex dream. Nothing terribly unusual there, except that the dream was replaying what had happened during the past hours, with my mother kneeling before me, working at my cock with her mouth in that naughty schoolgirl outfit. I half-expected to find Liira straddling me, but it turned out to be nothing more than an ordinary dream. I groaned and tried to go back to sleep.
Some time had passed now after Liira’s arrival, and I had settled into a routine. During the night, I would have mind-blowing sex with my mother’s body, and during the day I would do everything I could think of to avoid her. I was still weirded out by the prospect of enjoying my night-time trysts, but the biggest problem for me was that Liira had managed to instil a Pavlovian response in me. Whenever I was in close physical proximity to my mother’s body, I would begin to bar up in preparation for sex. I can’t even tell you how bad it was to be in a car with her, desperately trying to hide my state. She’d spotted what was going on once. Her embarrassed cough and the way she pointedly ignored the subject at hand had been bad enough even then; I had no desire to repeat the experience. I could tell that my sudden emotional withdrawal had hurt my mother, but I couldn’t be close to her without it doing my head in, so I took to spending every hour of the day I could at university, attacking my subjects with vigour to keep my mind occupied.
This worked well enough for a while, but Murphy clearly had his eye in and was gunning for me. A few days after my mother came home practically glowing about a promotion at work that would enable her to do part of her job from home in addition to granting her a new office and secretary at her insurance form, my boss called me in for the dreaded “talk.” I’m sorry to have to let you go, the economy is tanking, it’s nothing personal, blah blah blah. To add insult to injury, and whether it was due to Liira’s tampering or the simple work-out provided by the night-time sexual Olympics my mother and I were put through, I had an ample amount of excess energy due to increased fitness levels. For my mother’s part, the constant sex had helped tone up her body; not that she was unfit before, but now she was beginning to look really trim, enough to attract wolf whistles when she appraised construction sites and admiring glances when we were out in public.
Do you know what happens when your expenses remain the same but your income is zero? You become poor. Living at home at least mitigated the more dire problems I may have otherwise faced, but I became dependant on my mother for handouts to cover printing costs at Uni and petrol for my (thank God) economical Echo. The money had come with some strings attached, though. My mother insisted that, in return, I spend time with her. I managed to dodge out of the commitment for a while, but eventually she grew tired of that; she had a screaming fit and demanded that I uphold my end of the bargain before storming off to her room. Even from the end of the hallway, I could hear her crying.
I found myself in a quandary. On one hand, I had failed to honour my obligations, but on the other hand whenever I was around my mother I started to pitch a tent. I wanted to go in to try and console her, but my mother’s room was no longer holy ground to me, but instead the site of my many night-time romps with Liira. Eventually, what I’d like to think was my better nature won out, and I timidly knocked on her door, opening it and peeking in.
My mother was a mess. Some women can retain their dignity, even look beautiful, when they cry; my mother is not amongst that number. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her mascara smudged by the flow of her tears. Her nose was red, and as she noisily honked at it, she glared at me and asked “What?”
I was mortified. “Ah, geeze, mum. I’m sorry.” She just looked at me expectantly. When I said nothing else and stayed hidden behind her door, she blew out an exasperated breath. “Look, I know something has been going on for you lately, and you haven’t wanted to talk to me about it. I’ve tried not to pry, tried to be supportive, but all you ever do is run from me! I just want to help you! You’re my son, and I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”
She dabbed at her eyes, soaking up a new wave of tears that threatened to engulf her. I sighed, opening the door fully and stepping into the room. I sat down on the bed, wrapped one arm around my mother, and held her whilst she shook with racking sobs. Eventually, she whispered weakly “Are you on drugs? Is that why you were fired and you’re always away?”
Drugs, I thought. I wish. “No, mum. It’s not drugs. It’s just…” I trailed off, struggling to find a way to parse “pretty much every night I come in here and screw your brains out on this very bed, except that it’s not really you, it’s a demoness I summoned. Sorry about that.” I gave up. “Just … stuff.”
She snuggled in closer to me for support. At least now the crying had stopped. I rubbed my hand in circles around her back, trying to console her. She looked up at me, hoping for an explanation I could never give. Finally, she gave up. “Well, then. That’s fine. But when you feel like talking to me, just know that I’ll be here.”
She stood up, gathered the tissues strewn about on the floor, and dumped them in the bin by her nightstand. When she turned around, my mother was gone; the sun had evidently sunk beneath the horizon, and Liira had come to take her due. She pouted, making a moue of despair. “My, my, mummy is upset.” Liira shrugged out of my mother’s nightgown, revealing a gauzy negligee over a black lace thong, both quickly stripped. For my part, I rose from the bed and undressed.
As she climbed atop me, my rapidly hardening cock brushing against her thighs and into the small patch of pubic hair Liira had recently decided to have my mother grow, I glared at her. “This is all your fault, you know.” She pursed her lips, quirked an eyebrow, and dared me to go on. “Every time I’m around my mother, I get a hard-on. I can’t help it.”
Liira did not so much laugh as guffaw, my mother’s breasts jiggling around like upturned bowls of jelly. “Is that all?” “Is that all?” I mocked as Liira slid my mother’s slick opening down my shaft and we settled into our respective rhythms. “We live together. It’s bloody hindering awkward, is what it is. Can’t you … you know, do something? You can make me hard whenever you want and keep me that way, maybe you could set something up so only you can make me hard? Or something?”
“Hmmm.” Liira stopped moving, sinking to full depth on my pole whilst she regarded me. “You know, I think I can do something for you. But there will be a price to pay.” I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t there always? What do you want in exchange?” Liira started moving again, her features softening. “Once a week, for as long as I am within this shell, you shall mate with your mother, not me.” I opened my mouth to object, but Liira silenced me by raising a finger. “Your mother is a lonely woman, you know. She deserves a little romance.”
I eyed Liira suspiciously. Undaunted, she continued. “Every … Friday night, I think, in honour of our anniversary, you shall prepare dinner for your mother. I shall web about her an illusion that she is with the object of her fantasies, say that George Clooney or Patrick Dempsey fellow. She shall have a night where a male attempts to woo her, and she may give in to his wiles. Or … perhaps not. But unless you make what I deem to be a genuine effort, my son, the deal is off. In fact, I shall take a special interest in ensuring that you are visibly aroused whenever you are in proximity to your mother, as a punishment for you both.”
I ran the angles in my head. Really, not much had changed; I would still be having sex with my mother’s body, just with her in control- albeit confused horribly about the target of her affections. I decided to try for some concessions. “Okay. But, outside of sex with you, I get to always decide if I get an erection or not. And on the Fridays I sleep with my mother, I don’t have to service you.” Liira considered it for a moment, staring down at me whilst she moved her hips in a lazy circle. She came back with her own caveat; “Only if, when with your mother, you refer to her as such.” I chewed my lip. I had come to enjoy my sessions with Liira, for what they were. Realistically, the taboo of incest was a line I had long ago crossed, and paled in comparison to the promise Liira had made that I would be impregnating my mother’s body some time in the next few months. I nodded. “Done.” She grinned at me gleefully. “And now, for a taste of things to come. I shall give to you a gift without conditions; during your,” here her voice dropped, emphasising her words with her tone and clamping my mother’s vagina down on my cock so hard I was afraid it would burst within her “special times with your mother, she shall call you ‘son.’ And herself your mother, even as she imagines another’s hands caressing her.”
With an ugly laugh, Liira faded away, subsumed by my mother’s features. She looked down at me, in shock. For a moment I wondered if Liira really had put some illusion onto my mother, worried that she saw me for who I truly was. Within seconds, though, her look of surprise faded away, replaced with a seductive smile. “My, my,” she purred, running her fingers down my chest. “What do we have here? I’ve dreamed of this day ever since I saw you in Layer Cake. Such a strong performance.” I suppressed a laugh. Daniel Craig? In my mother’s mind, I was Bond. James Bond. With an imperious little toss of her head, she reared up, then thudded home. By comparison, Liira’s movements were rapier thrusts, delicate and aimed carefully. My mother, it appeared, preferred to exert brute force to her sex.
She bounced up and down on top of me, her breasts flapping around madly. Eventually, I couldn’t stand it any longer, and sat up. I put my hands on her shoulders to bring her to a halt. “Uhmm … Mum?” She quivered, goose flesh appearing over the flushed skin of her chest. She drew me in closer, whispering “Oh, god, son, say it again. Say my name, baby.” I sighed. “Mum. How about we take it a little slower for a while?”
She put a wrist to her forehead like a giddy school-girl, her vagina clutching at me. “Of course, of course. How silly of me. Maybe you’d like to be on top?” I nodded, and we slowly spun before I lowered my mother down onto her pillows. What the hell, I thought. Liira had provided me with an exhaustive education on the missionary position, and she seemed to especially enjoy being kissed and fondled the way we had on our first night together, so very long ago. I began to apply my hard-won skills, gently stroking in and out of my mother whilst I caressed her breasts and attacked her mouth with my own. It didn’t take long before she was making contented little sounds, gasping for breath, and trembling beneath me as we worked our way to a shared orgasm.
As her moment of perfect bliss arrive, my mother went absolutely rigid, her eyes rolling back in her head as she thrashed about. Caught in the throes of my own orgasm, I was helpless to aid her. Once I had my sex-sapped limbs back under control, I reached desperately for my mother’s face, cradling the back of her head and asking in a terrified voice “Mum? Mum, are you alright?”
Her eyes opened, the glassy, lust-smoked eyes of Liira, who looked at me with amusement. She chuckled, sending a vibration through my mother’s body that revived my flagging cock. “That was … intense. This Daniel Craig fellow, she seems to like him. And you, my student, applied the skills I have taught you perfectly. The sensations overwhelmed her body and mind, sent her into unconsciousness. Ordinarily, a faint like that would be brief, a few moments at most, but I shall let her rest.”
She propped herself up. “Well done, by the way. I am impressed. The intensity of your mother’s feelings, to say nothing of the sexual energy you shared, would be enough to sustain me for the better part of a month. Allow me to demonstrate my gratitude.”
She rolled us over, again taking the schoolgirl position. What followed was indescribable; she moved my mother’s body in ways that were absolutely tailored to my desires, stoking my lust with every gasp, sigh, and quiver she made. The last thing I remember before waking up in the soft dawn light, my arms wrapped around the naked form of my mother, was my own orgasm approaching. I disentangled myself from my mother, taking one last, appreciative look at her breasts, softly rising and falling as she slept, and at the delectable lips of her sex, poking out under the strip of pubic hair that did nothing to hide them. Shaking my head, I gathered up my clothes, slinking into my room.
As I did so, I happened to glance at the calendar on the far wall. Today was a Friday…
THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR