Becoming Substace

NOTE: This is the second chapter of a spin-off story from the Becoming Kitten series. We recommend you read those for background on these characters--which includes incest, so fair warning.

All characters are over 18.

——————

It stares at me from across the campfire, the flames flickering in its glowing red eyes.

The demon.

A restless night wind occasionally pushes sparks and blasts of heat at me, smoke stinging my nostrils. But I am not disturbed. I sit calmly, for some reason at peace as the demon and I stare at each other in the flickering light. We sit perched on a flat stone cliff against the backdrop of a black, whispering forest.

The demon looks like me.

Like me, but with a malevolent sharpness to its features. A very sharp jawline and eyebrows that arch higher than mine.

Then the heat shimmers transform it and now it's true demon body ripples with brutish red muscles, my face holding dripping white fangs, my head with soaring black horns.

Another gust of wind and it's my face on a white-haired executive in a finely-tailored three piece suit, sitting cross-legged on an ivory chair.

Then back to looking like me.

I sit and watch, in no hurry.

"

I'm not a demon," it finally says. It's voice is mine but deeper, containing strange echoes of history, future, and emptiness.

I sit and consider. I don't believe it, of course, given what I just saw. But it's an interesting way to start out.

"

That's an interesting way to start out," I finally say.

It smiles slowly. Everything about it is slow, methodical, considered. Normally that would spook me but I am experiencing myself as the same. Like unhurried chess-players, we are enjoying the game.

Whatever game this is.

"

You see me as a demon, I won't deny that," it continues, "but that's the face you're putting on me. That's not me."

Interesting.

"

So, what are you?"

It sighs, looking off into the night and thinking for a moment. When it returns those demonic eyes to meet my gaze, it says "Well, in this form, I'm just baggage, really."

"

What?"

"

I'm what you think about the kind of person who could meet her needs. I'm who you're afraid of becoming if you dare to grow into the man she needs."

(Stacey.)

"

Of course we're talking about Stacey," it says, reading my thoughts. "The hot little naked slut in the bed with you right now as you're having this dream."

"

Why is a demon visiting my dreams about this?"

It huffs quietly--"I told you I'm not a demon. That's your baggage."

(This is my dream, so I'm calling the shots.) "Explain yourself," I say easily, as if I am ordering a sandwich.

"

You don't love her like Kitten, but that doesn't mean you don't need her."

I nod in agreement, staring into the flames for a moment. That feels right.

"

And she sure as hell doesn't love you like your own daughter does."

It pauses, then continues. "Stacey doesn't need a Daddy. She needs an owner."

That's a surprise. I look back up to see a weirdly sympathetic look on its evil countenance.

Once again reading my thoughts, it says "Not evil. That's your baggage. Quit putting it on me."

Something in me shifts, sliding from doubt to curiosity. It doesn't feel risky, it feels like the right play for this point in the game.

"

So if you're not a demon and you're not evil--I'll ask again. What are you?"

It nods. "Now we're getting somewhere. I'm you, of course. More specifically, I'm the part of you that knows what has to come next for you, and for her." For the first time, it breaks my gaze first, and stares into the flames. "But the bottom line is that you're afraid."

(Hmm. Afraid. Am I afraid?)

"

Yes. You are a special man, Nick, and this part of you knows it. You can read some people's deepest needs--their spiritual needs. Their deep longings for what they must become next in order to walk the path that's meant for them in this life. You were able to do it with Jessica, and it turned her into Kitten. She needed that so badly, but it took your powers of insight to help her transform."

Again, it's words feel right. If I'm to believe it. . .

my

words feel right.

"

Stacey's next transformation in this life is to become. . . not your slave, but your pet. Controlled and dominated, of course--that much is obvious--but her spirit is one that thrives when it is not oppressed, but. . . channeled. Strongly. You need to constrain her, challenge her, drive her, punish her."

This is all making sense, given how she threw herself at me. But. . . "To what end?"

It smiles again slowly, eyes lit bright by the flames as a gust of wind swirls sparks all around. "That is the question, isn't it? Training your new pet, but training it for what?"

I wait, watching it watch the flames. Crackling, sparking, the fire seems to be burning brighter now, almost white-hot, as the game takes us closer to the core of some important truth.

Finally it looks back up at me.

"

It's simple, Nick. She needs to learn what she's really capable of--the depths of her power. And for her, that means being driven like a thoroughbred. . . and used like a whore. It's why she was so happy as captain of the volleyball team and the biggest slut in school.

"

But it's also what you need right now.

"

You need to learn to inflict suffering--to cause real pain for its own sake. Pain can be beautiful. It's not wrong to make a woman cry when it's the experience she is absolutely starving for at the core of her being. In the moment, it can feel cruel. But if you let yourself, Nick, you will learn just how delicious that cruelty can be. You'll come to see the importance of serving others by being cruel to them in the ways that they are most deeply hungry for, ways they don't even understand themselves.

"

That's your lesson. That's why you need her. You need to learn the beauty of this darkness that is already inside you and the amazing power it will bring you in this life.

"

That's why I'm not a demon, Nick... I'm you."

-----——

He wakes with a start, eyes flying open and heart hammering in his ribcage.

Sweating, he raises his head and looks around. No campfire. No forest. No cliff.

He is lying in his soft, giant bed with Stacey's beautiful naked form splayed out beside him. She is sleeping with her back to him, shoulders rising and falling slowly and her legs splayed open a bit. The sweetness of her perfume and the musk of her pussy mingle in the air.

Glancing down, he sees his bright red handprint still decorating her ass from when he had smacked her hard last night. He had used her roughly, but she had always begged for it rougher, harder, deeper, stronger.

Admiring the curves of her nubile form, he makes an agreement with himself. He doesn't love her. She doesn't love him. They just don't know each other well enough for that. But they can love what they get from each other.

So he's going to run this little slut hard, and he's going to find out just how far they're each willing to go.

The thoughts make something at the base of his spine warm and settle, and his cock hardens almost instantly.

The sun is rising. Glancing at himself in the mirror on the bureau, the light makes his jawline appear sharper than usual, his eyebrows look to arch a bit higher, and the rosy glow of dawn puts a curiously glow in his eyes.

Slathering his cock with lube from the pump bottle on the nightstand, he gets up on his knees and straddles her bottom leg, positioning his cock on her pussy.

Though she is still asleep, he grabs her hip with both hands and pulls her pussy onto his cock, bottoming out in a single thrust.

"AH!" Her eyes fly open and she gasps, disoriented, looking up with a wide searching stare.

He grips her hip tightly and starts fucking her body, not moving his own hips but instead pulling and pushing on hers. Using her like a toy.

"Ah..." She gasps again, blinking rapidly and shaking her head, steadying herself with her hands. As she comes fully awake, her hips beginning to move on their own, pushing toward him, trying to impale herself deeper on him.

"Good morning," he growls, his voice gravelly. Breathing deeply, he glories in the sensations of the tight young pussy on his cock, the firmly muscled ass he's got in his hands.

Now he begins moving his own hips as well as pulling on hers, doubling the force of his thrusts. And she cries out again. When she catches her breath, she smiles "Good morning, Nick."

Instantly, he is leaning over and has a fistful of her hair, pulling her head up. He whispers forcefully into her ear "No more Nick. Ever. You call me Sir from here on out. Is that clear?"

He emphasizes his point with a particularly hard thrust, his cock ramming home deep inside her. She cries out yet again, eyes rolling back. Her mouth hangs open as he uses her now, her body his to move like rag doll. Finally, she can gasp, "Yes. . . . Yes, sir!"

Her own words seem to electrify her and she starts thrusting back onto him faster. "Yes, sir. . . Yes, sir . . .Fuck me sir. Fuck me sir, Fuck me sir, Fuck me sir. . ." Panting now, the words flow from her like prayer, louder with each incantation. Her hips accelerate and her cries increase until she is jack-knifing on his cock almost in a spasm, screaming, "fuck me sir, Fuck Me Sir, FUCK ME SIR!"

They rut together until she shrieks, her body vibrating in orgasm, drool pouring from her mouth. He yanks her hair hard and keeps pounding into her, his own body completely out of his control, his mind and spirit exalting in the glorious currents of this dark new energy. The deliciousness of this new version of him, unleashed.

He can feel her juices pouring out all over his cock and the volcano deep in him begins rising. He closes his eyes, lost to all but his basest needs to completely own this pussy. It doesn't matter who he's fucking. It just matters that he's fucking.

In a flash, his own climax tears through him and he roars, slamming violently forward, feeling like he's turning inside out as he empties himself into her. For a long moment, he is aware of nothing but one fistful of hair, one fistful of hip, and his cock pulsing like a lightning rod as his orgasm keeps hammering on them both.

After an eternity, he remembers to breathe again and gasps, releasing her hair and sitting back on his hips, his cock sliding out of her with a sloppy sigh. They pant in silence, eyes wide, each lost in their own sensations and struggling to come to their senses.

Eventually their eyes find each other. He can feel the intensity of his gaze, almost glaring at her the silent message

I mean it.

Her head dips the tiniest bit, perhaps even a nod, Another unspoken contract between them is sealed.

She smiles as she wipes the drool from her face.

"Jesus. . . . Sir. . . ." she says, lingering on the second word, her eyes sparkling as she says "You fuck like a demon."

He can feel himself smiling slowly. "And you, my beauty, fuck like a filthy whore."

She giggles, even blushes a little. "Well, that might be the nicest thing anyone has said to me all month."

They chuckle together as he lies back down beside her. She turns and they are facing each other, both up on one elbow.

They gaze at each other for a long moment, both considering various things about what just happened.

He feels brand new in some ways. Bigger than he was. Powerful. Dangerous. His heart flutters a bit as he thinks about what he knows comes next. It's new to him, this way of being, but it calls out to him and cannot escape it, so he steps forward into it.

"We don't know each other well enough to love each other yet," he says, repeating his waking insight.

She nods, "Yeah that's true. . . ."

Then, as calmly as he can, "But you're moving in here tomorrow."

Her eyes go wide. "I'm what?"

"You're moving in here tomorrow. I'll arrange for movers to bring everything over. You can have Kitten's old room, but I'll certainly fuck you anywhere in the house I want."

She blinks, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

He does not break her gaze and just nods. She stares back at him, the wheels of her mind clearly spinning.

She asks the obvious: "Don't you think it's a bit soon?"

Refusing to justify himself, he just answers flatly, "No."

"No?" She replies.

"No." He repeats. Then waits.

She blinks again. "Why do you want me to move in with you?"

"I'm going to make you my pet. And you're going to love it."

"I am?"

"You are. It's what you need."

She looks around, as if appraising the room, then her eyes unfocus, appraising things unseen. She then flops back on her back to stare at the ceiling.

After a few long, deep breaths, still staring straight up, she says "You're crazy, but you know what? Fuck it. You're Kay's Dad and she knows me. I'll do it. I'll move in with you. At least for a little while."

Nick is amazed at what just happened, but he doesn't let up. "You'll move in with me. . . what?"

A delicious, hungry grin spreads across her face and one hand comes up to unconsciously twist one of her nipples. "Mmmmmm. . ." she sighs, "I'll move in with you,

Sir

."

He reaches out for her other nipple.

"That's a good girl" he purrs, watching her body melt at his words.

Then he twists that nipple

hard

.

"Ah!" she yelps and shudders, looking at him with shock crackling in her eyes, but from beneath the surprise in her gaze radiates an electric surge of something else. A combination of playful eagerness, animal lust, and the powerful sweetness of something like . . . gratitude.

He knows she is his.