She barely knew what came over her. One second, she was arguing, screaming, cursing at her partner, her bag on the floor, half spilled over with her belongings but far gone from her mind, her face contorted with rage and pain as she reeled with the realization of what was happening, what had happened no doubt many times in this very room, in
her
room - this sacred sleeping place designed to be shared only between two people. She was screaming, crying, furious, angry and hurt and scared and-and everything
else
and, in that instant, the two naked people in her bedroom were not going to have any punches pulled on them.
That had all been a moment ago, but then the next moment, her fight was fading inside her and she was growing still, quiet, placid and unmoving. She felt it happen; felt the drain of her will power, the sensation of her emotions soothing, the very notion of her thoughts being subdued and pushed aside as if her brain had become hot wax, melting away from the heat of the candle to pour over the sides and run down, down until they cooled and dried there like the tears in her mascara. Her wilting face softened, her fists relaxed, and she quietened where she stood. The transformation would truly have been amazing to behold from the outside, but no one was there to see the starkly contrasting change.
'Ah, the little dearest
whyfe
returns,' a sultry, accented female voice spoke in the emptiness as the covers slithered aside and a dark, pert body snaked from within the sheets, as smooth as a snake and as lust worthy as the picture of sex itself, like a goddess. In the near blackness of the room, only the dull windowlight from the streetlamp outside shone through slits in the blinds over the desk, and so only narrow beams of her body glowed momentarily as she moved, tiny glances of a nipple here or a navel there visible as she slowly rose to her feet. The wife never saw it, but there was a dark, snaking tail swishing out of the sheets behind her, and as the woman approached, it slithered around and around her thigh, the tiny, barbed tip slapping gently against the taut skin there before being sucked quickly upwards as the entire thing disappeared into her tailbone as if by magic, like a retracted tape measure, rapidly drawing into her body itself.
In the few steps it took the girl to walk from the side of the bed
she
, the bed's owner, usually slept in, she had transformed from -
whatever
it was she had been - into a normal, naked, soft-skinned woman, a half-head taller than the returning wife and as pert as if she had been modeled moments ago by a loving, nurturing sculptor's hands. Two nearly circular tits stood proudly on her chest, barely moving, surely fake save for how realistic they seemed to be, and her waist curved inwards perfectly without even the slightest hint of bone or protrusion. There wasn't a mole or freckle anywhere on her milky skin, she seemed to have not even the tiniest hint of belly or bulge, and she did not sweat, her hue as pure as if she had just stepped from the shower, and not from a heated sexual exchange with her husband. When she alighted before the stupefied woman, she looked down at her not with fury or apology, but with what looked to be
actual
empathy. Her flawless features materialized above her and her glittering, wide eyes stared into her own.
The sultry woman lifted one immaculate fingertip and slipped it tenderly beneath one eye, drawing away the tears that had turned her mascara into a blackened waterfall. She drew the knuckle around her cheek and down below her chin, outlining her jawline, where she hooked it and gently lifted the woman's head. The wife raised it without argument, the watery eyes staring but no words able to escape her throat, as if her very ability to express herself had been suppressed. Which, in essence, it had been.
'What a delicious little drink,' the deep voice spoke from an inch away from her mouth, hot breath smelling of sea salt and spice and campfire as it licked about her nose. Her lipstick-coated lips parted, and the woman who had bedded her husband leaned in and sampled them, so tenderly that they did not push them together - she simply placed lip to lip, their softest, tiniest edges touching but not sealing. She inhaled deeply, and a tongue snaked from between the open lips to slip between the impassive wife's own, sliding over teeth and into her cheek. The jaw parted without resistance and the tongue slipped deeper, snaking like a soft whirlpool about her mouth, the mysterious tongue's minute roughness slipping against her own as it moved, seemingly going deeper than a human tongue ought to do, slithering down further and further until she could practically feel it in her chest, wrapping around her heart-
-'I like the taste of you.' the dominant woman breathed as the tongue retracted with a slithering snap.
Then, everything happened really, really fast.
She stepped back and her skin seemed to darken once more, imperceptible yet definitely there, like light that seems brighter out of the corner of your eye. Something soft and rubbery seemed to twist around one of the Wife's thighs and scrape along their apex as she moved backwards. She raised one hand, the palm facing the wife, and as she spoke it seemed to turn into a billowing wind of light and noise, invisible and inaudible yet blinding and deafening.
Light and sound irradiated her senses like a radioactive sample affecting a camera sensor, but far from the danger of radiation, this wash of
energy
felt soothing and soft, as if the sensation was putting her to bed and tucking her in. Comfort washed through her, instantly followed by an obedient pliancy. She did not know what the strange woman had said, but it didn't matter. Her body and mind obeyed commands she did not hear nor need to interpret as both succumbed to a higher will. Quickly, she dropped her phone and unbuttoned her shirt, letting it fall it from her shoulders. She slipped her pants down and stepped from them, unlooping her bra and popping it from her chest. It fell almost at the same time as her panties did and her socks quickly followed suit. With a dismissive flick of her hand, the man in the bed - the husband who had moments before been screamed at for cheating on his wife - withdrew himself from the sheets and stood by the wall, naked. A hard length stood stiffly before him, but in that moment, it was not desired.
The woman was a demon, or rather, a watered-down demoness; one of very few to live in today's technology-riddled world, reduced to hiding under a magical Veil that turned her appearance into one that human viewers found most satisfying. As a seductress - commonly known as a succubus or incubus in some circles - she busied her immortal life with seducing those with acceptably high levels of an elusive, drug-like life force known to her kind as Kama, on which the members of her world fed like cats on catnip. She savored those she could drink from and in return gave them an impossible, inexplicable world of sexual blissfulness not known to their meagre lives.
The demoness-the succubus-slunk back towards the bed, the intoned command in her Mesmeric tongue already wrapped like iron chains around the woman's captivated brain and tying her will to her own irresistibly. The Wife slipped over her, her tits dangling and dragging up her rubbery demon skin as she performed under the Mesmer. Naked flesh climbed above her, and she inhaled the human's scent, intoxicated already on it as the woman moved higher, higher, higher, until her true core came into view above her.