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It was an early Wednesday morning, inside her sizeable office at the Boulder Public Library, that Sarah Joy realized the dark desires rising in her could no longer be ignored. She was sitting at her desk, her hands shaking as she tried in vain to push away the aching hunger inside her; a hunger different than anything she'd experienced before in her life.
It had been only days since the demon had touched Sarah's soul. Since the man she loved had given himself up to save her. She wondered faintly if the demon had known that when she left, part of her power had stayed behind; germinating in her soul like a seed of dark lust, now sprouting and growing—permeating her soul like a creeping vine.
She clenched her hands. For everything, her mind felt warm. Calm. The fear and pain and loss draining from her. When she realized the change was something out of her control, she was finally able to let go. Sarah had spent her life learning to make the best of things. Why should she stop now?
She stared at her hands, her long, smooth fingers flexing and unflexing, when a knock came at her door. It was Harry, one of the young Library Assistants hired last year. She didn't know how she knew, other than she could somehow
feel
him through the door.
"Come in," she said, looking up from her hands.
He came into her office wearing his normal attire; navy slacks with white button up shirt shirt underneath. His curly brown hair came down past his ears. He was trim and slender—reminding Sarah of a prep kid straight out of college. And as usual he was twirling a pencil in his fingers. "Morning, Ms. Joy. I, uh, came to get the list of new books to be shelved?"
Sarah could feel the young man's nervousness. Could feel him desperately trying to keep his eyes from dropping to her ample cleavage. Before... everything, she had worked hard to constrain her appearance, to maintain a conservative look for the sake of propriety. But that morning, staring at her own naked form in the mirror; her creamy skin. Her hourglass figure. Her flowing blonde hair. Blue eyes that literally glowed unless she willed them not to. And, of course, her perfectly round, perfectly luscious, perky, hypnotic tits.
Seeing all this; seeing how her body had subtly changed over just these few days, she just couldn't bring herself to hide it anymore.
Sarah smiled at harry, letting the silence linger just a few seconds, enjoying the—for lack of a better word—taste of his mind as he struggled to keep his desires in check. She could feel a pleasant tension inside her. Yearning. Hungry. Like something expanding beneath her skin, except it wasn't her skin. It was... something else.
"Of course, Harry. I have them drawn up right here." With one finger she slid the paper across the desk towards him.
His gaze moved to follow the paper, but even as he moved to take it, his eyes were captured by those luscious orbs of hers, two undone blouse buttons making them impossible to avoid.
Sarah could feel his lust rising, an untapped well seeping with the dark energy she craved. She let out a soft gasp as she felt something push out from her. Glancing down, she saw a single dark shadow—invisible, she knew, to anyone without the special mind and sight to see—slide like an undulating snake over to Harry.
It was a sight that left her in both rapture in despair. The feeling was transcendent. The dark tendril was power and will and soul made manifest.
And it meant that she was right. She was beyond saving. She was becoming the very thing her love had given himself to save her from.
Sarah's eyes fluttered slightly, then a slow smile spread on her full, wet lips. "Is everything all right, Harry? You seem... distracted."
With a mortified gasp, Harry shook himself free of his trance. "Oh, my god, Ms. Joy. I'm so sorry! I don't... I don't.... I aah..."
Her shadow crept up his leg, sliding gently along his crotch before pushing gently into him. Not his physical form, though. Something much deeper. Much more fundamental.
"You want them, don't you, Harry?" she said softly, drawing her blouse open to tease another inch of her supple flesh. "You want these."
With a feeling of utter rapture, Sarah Joy, librarian and newly transformed succubus, took her first taste of undistilled lust. Felt herself fill with the rich sweet darkness; felt it rise inside her like a blooming flower. She felt herself shudder as her mind reached for the man in front of her, more tendrils erupting from her aura to grip his thoughts. His body.
Her smile widened as the assistant's cock erupted to full length, bulging out the front of his slacks. "Oh, god," he moaned. "Oh, fuck. What's... what's happening..."
Her eyes locked on his throbbing organ, straining for freedom against the fabric confining it. "Something wonderful, Harry," she said, feeling her breathing deepen as her shadows licked and sucked on his mind and soul, simultaneously feeding on, and further amplifying the man's desire to supernatural levels.
"Say it, Harry," she said, softly. "Say the naughty thing in your mind."
His head shook, trying not to speak, only to succumb to her onslaught of desire. His mouth opened and like a dam breaking, words tumbled from his lips. "I can't stop thinking about how much I want to suck those big tits of yours. They're so fucking perfect, Ms. Joy. I can't... I can't stand it!"
Sarah's laugh was low and smoky as she rose from her desk. "Very good harry. It's important to be honest."
She walked around and stood before him, her tendrils holding him in place, even if he didn't know it. She traced a finger up his neck to his chin, "I think good, honest little boys should be rewarded, don't you?"
Harry gulped audibly at the soft purr in her voice. He tried to turn away, but with one finger she easily kept his face still, inclining his gaze till her tits filled them. "So you want to suck these, Harry?"
Sarah could feel him try to resist. Feel his thoughts trying to find purchase in a mind being flooded with lust and demonic influence. It was only then she understood how easily the demon had taken her. The young man's will was flimsy. He had already wanted her body, and somehow that meant she could sink through his defenses like they were warm butter.
Sliding into the core of the brown haired man's, she wound her tendrils around the man's inhibitions. His restraint. His morals. She poured her darkness into those parts of him. Infecting them with her will. Corrupting them. Transforming them.
"Yes!" he moaned. "Please! I... I need them! I need... I need to worship them!"
With a pleased grin, Sarah undid several more buttons, revealing a black satin bra that the barely contained the womanly treasures inside; two perky globes—like full ripe peaches. In the early morning light coming through her office windows, they glowed like twin suns behind the dark fabric of her bra.
The shadows of her power couldn't reach into the material—yet—but still she knew he felt feathery phantom sensations as her dark tendrils stroked him under his pants. His eyes rolled back and he groaned in desperate need.
There was so much lust. So much sexual energy. And Sarah could taste it so clearly. But it was only a sampling, she knew. She shuddered as she undid the rest of her blouse and let it fall to the ground. Then, with a soft sigh, she undid the clasp of her bra, letting it fall away, too.
Harry shook with unfettered, animal need as he looked upon her perfect treasures. Heavy and inviting, her glorious breasts were topped by a pair of swollen nipples covered in hard bumps from desire and anticipation.
"Suck my tits, Harry." She spoke softly, drawing out each word like a long drawn breath. "Suck them."
Unable to resist anymore, he reached up and cupped those heavenly orbs with trembling hands—and plunged his head between their soft mounds, letting himself be consumed by those perfect melons of flesh.
"Love them, Harry," she whispered in his ear. "Love them. Worship them."
His tongue licked across one peach-tipped breast; sucking on the engorged nipple that stood proud at the top before moving down the other side, tonguing the hardened tip again like an ice cream cone dripping with melting chocolate.
She reached down and took his hardness as he did so, stroking it through his slacks. She felt it pulse beneath her touch—it's own heartbeat thumping just for her—and with her other hand she pulled up the pencil skirt she wore to run her fingers along the black lace of her panties, the fabric already soaking wet from her arousal.
The succubus couldn't help herself; she slid her hand down the back of his pants and sank her nails into his backside. Her fingernails were sharp as razors against the young man's pale skin, and he moaned with a voice hoarse with pain and lust and delirium; gasping for air in between kisses and sucks on her luscious orbs.
