by M. E. Hydra
“It has come to my attention two of our students have gone missing and security was called out to dismiss two rogue succubi—two full and contented-looking succubi, I might add—from the east tower. I hope you’ve not been giving our more impressionable students certain ideas again.”
Stine shrugged. He gave Dahl a rotten-toothed grin. “Boys will be boys,” he said.
Dahl pressed his fingers against his forehead and shook his head.
“That may be, but someone has to explain their disappearance to the authorities, and the school could well do without the scandal, especially after that incident with the IRS.”
“That was ruled to be acceptable,” Stine complained.
“It was,” Dahl agreed.
“Besides, I don’t think the individuals involved had any complaints,” Stine added with a vulgar smile.
Dahl rubbed the skin over his temples with his fingers.
“I do wish you’d show a little more decorum on these matters,” he said. “You know how it is with young men, especially when…ahem…succubi are involved.”
“They have to learn sometime,” Stine said.
Dahl sighed. “Learning implies the student is around to make a different choice next time.”
Stine gave a derisory snort.
“I know you favour more…direct methods of tuition, but please show more care. The college had to pay an astronomical amount to the Zelesnik Negators last year,” Dahl said.
Stine muttered darkly to himself as he left Dahl’s office.
They were warlocks. Was it so much to ask to be allowed to be a little evil now and again?
Recruitment II
It was the end of Phil’s shift and he was out back, emptying the bins. The McRestaurant he worked at was right in the main shopping district of town. Once the sun went down and the shops closed the area became a dead zone.
He knew someone was at the entrance to the alley when their shadow fell across him. He turned and recognised the robed outline as the weirdo he’d served earlier that day. What was the man doing here, now? Was he crazy?
“You saw me earlier?” the man asked, his quiet voice barely more than a whisper.
Phil nodded. He felt a chill dance up his spine. He weighed up in his mind whether he should scream out for help. The indignity and subsequent ribbing he’d take for crying out like a little girl was probably better than risking being strangled or knifed by a psychopathic refugee from a LARP.
“I thought so,” the man said.
He leant against the wall, a silhouette of a man with coals for eyes.
“It’s rare for people to notice me,” the man continued. “You must be sensitive.” He peered into Phil. “Yes, I think you have a spark.”
“Spark?” Phil asked.
The man tipped the front of his wide-brimmed hat.
“Magic,” he said, showing off a smile that was all teeth.
Like a shark.
Magic. Yeah right, Phil thought. Someone had been reading too many trashy fantasy novels. Which loony bin had this nutter escaped from?
“Is this where you tell me, ‘Yer a wizard’,” Phil said.
The man laughed. “No, not a wizard,” he said. “A warlock.”
“What’s the difference?” Phil manhandled a big bin liner full of crap into the skip.
“One’s make-believe while the other is very much real.”
If you say so, Phil thought. Cuck-oooo.
“I’m a recruiter for a prestigious college,” the man said. “I travel the country looking for people like you, people who have a spark.”
Phil threw the last bag into the skip.
“That’s nice,” he said. “Um, I need to go back inside now.”
The man smiled, adjusted his hat.
“Mr Gomrath.”
Phil became aware of something sitting on the man’s left shoulder. What it was, Phil couldn’t tell. His eyes wouldn’t focus on it for some reason. Sometimes it looked like a monkey; sometimes it looked like a parrot; sometimes it looked like a tentacled and squamous horror right out of the nightmares of H.P. Lovecraft. It was all of these things and none—a dark blur glimpsed in the corner of the eye no matter how hard Phil tried to look directly at it. The only thing clear was its eyes. They glowed bright red.
The man held out his arms. Phil jumped back in shock as both of the man’s arms burst into flame.
The man’s arms were on fire!
Flickering yellow flames danced up the man’s forearms. The fires illuminated the man’s narrow, lined face. He was still smiling that shark-toothed smile even as his arms lit up the alleyway like torches.
“H-h-how?” Phil stammered.
“Magic,” the man said.
He clapped his hands and the flames were gone as if they’d never been. Same with the disquieting and creepy thing Phil had glimpsed on the man’s shoulder, although there were moments when Phil thought he glimpsed something at the periphery of his vision.
“I bet you’re thinking it’s a trick,” the man said. “You’re right, it is. It’s nothing but a parlour trick compared to the real power a warlock possesses. Come with me and I’ll take you to a college that will teach you how to put that power right at your fingertips.”
The man looked at the skip and the plastic fast food restaurant squatting next to them.
“Or you can stay here, flip burgers and ask people if they’d like fries with that for the rest of your existence.”
When it was put like that…
105: LOCATION I
Phil Rowling opened his eyes from a pleasant dream he couldn’t quite recall. Where was he? The sheets he lay on felt smooth like silk. He was used to the scratchy, dubiously stained blankets of Wargsnouts College for Warlocks. This bed was soft, warm and comfortable.
Two faces came into his field of view. One had clear blue eyes and short red hair cut in a cute little bob. The other had green eyes, a sunny smile and long green hair. It might have been easy to mistake them for gorgeous girls in their late teens if it hadn’t been for the horns protruding from their foreheads, or the miniature bat wings sprouting from behind their pointed ears. When they spoke they revealed slender, wickedly pointed sharp fangs.
“See, I told you he was still alive,” the girl with the green hair said.
“Well I never. I thought you’d sucked him dry for sure,” the girl with the red hair said.
It all came flooding back to Phil—the guest room in the deserted east tower of Wargsnouts; Jake’s crazy plan to summon a pair of succubi; the ritual; Rosa and Verdé; Jake’s death.
His…death.
He had died hadn’t he? All his attempts to escape had failed. The two succubi had fucked and fucked all the fluids out of his body until there was nothing left. All things considered it hadn’t been a bad way to go.
Where was he now?
Was this hell?
“Am I dead?” Phil asked.
The two succubi looked at him, looked at each other and then laughed.
“No, baby warlock, you’re still alive,” Rosa said.
“How? What happened?” The last he remembered was being sandwiched between them, his body shrivelling up as Verdé sucked out his life with her pussy.
“I got so full I couldn’t eat any more,” Verdé said, patting her slender, tanned belly.
“That’s what you get for snacking between meals,” Rosa said.
“I’m alive?” Phil said.
“Yes,” the succubi replied, their faces bright.
Why was it so difficult to move? Phil thought. He brought his arm up and would have shrieked in horror had his lungs been strong enough to expel the air. It was a stick not an arm. His skin was wrapped tightly over angular bone. He had the arm of an emaciated famine victim. Phil could barely lift it up and even then his arm trembled at the exertion.
Verdé blushed with embarrassment and looked away from Phil’s accusing stare.
“I still had some appetite,” she said.
“What have you done to me?” Phil said. “I’m skin and bone.”
“Not everywhere’s skin and bone,” Rosa said. Her hand lightly rubbed over the sheets covering Phil’s crotch and the fabric immediately tented with his erection.
“Exhalarat dom daemonica absu Ixcis!” Phil uttered, spitting the alien words like bullets. Rosa and Verdé backed away in surprise as the cadences of the dismissal spell reverberated from the stonework before slowly fading away.
Nothing happened. Rosa and Verdé looked at each other. They both nodded.
“That was a good one,” Rosa said.
“Seems like our baby warlock has a little bit of talent after all,” Verdé added.
“Needs to enunciate the a in the ae of daemonica a little more.”
“That sound has always been open to interpretation,” Verdé said. “It’s the force behind that matters.”
“It certainly had force,” Rosa said. She frowned. “We must be losing our touch if he wants to get rid of us that badly.”
“Um…” Phil interrupted. “Shouldn’t you…uh…be gone?”
The two succubi returned their attentions to Phil. They smiled.
“Oh we are,” Rosa said.
“That spell is an emergency dismissal designed to send a daemon back to its home dimension,” Verdé said.
Horrifying realisation crept up on Phil and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“Our home dimension,” Rosa smiled, showing her sharp little fangs.
“I’m in hell?” he said, his voice quavering with terror.
“Kind of,” Verdé replied. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“What am I doing here?”
“Well. When I got so full I couldn’t eat any more we decided to send you back to our home.”
“As a snack for later,” Rosa said, licking her full red lips.
“After we’d explored the human world a little,” Verdé said.
“Then that security patrol turned up and gave us a good zapping,” Rosa said. She rubbed a scorched-looking patch of skin on her buttocks.
“The tall one with the floppy black hair and spectacles was very handsome,” Verdé said. “I think I’ll pay a visit to his dreams sometime soon.”
“Slut,” Rosa said.
“What shall we do about him?” Verdé said, looking at Phil. “I’m not sure I want to finish him off.”
“He’s not very appetizing like this,” Rosa said, lifting up one of Phil’s stick-thin arms with her thumb and forefinger.
“No, it’s not that. I’ve got a little attached to him now,” Verdé said. “It wouldn’t feel right. Hey!” her eyes brightened. “Maybe we could keep him as a pet.”
“A pet. Don’t be ridiculous,” Rosa said. “Can you imagine what Nÿte would say if she found out there was a human wandering around the castle. We should toss him to the wargen.”
She walked over to the far corner and lifted a body up out of the shadows. They’d brought back Jake’s corpse as well, Phil realised. He watched as Rosa walked over to one of the narrow windows and casually threw it out. A cacophony of screams, growls and wet ripping sounds welled up from outside.
“Oh come on,” Verdé said. “It will be fun to have a baby warlock around the place.”
Rosa stood by the window, her wings folded behind her. “I suppose we can always eat him if he gets boring,” she said finally.
“We can’t really leave him like this,” Verdé said. “He won’t be any fun at all.”
The two succubi glanced thoughtfully at each other.
“Nurse Honey?” Rosa suggested.
“Yes, she should be able to help,” Verdé said.
The two succubi walked out, leaving Phil alone and helpless in the darkened room. It might have been better if they’d killed him, he thought. They’d left him with the body of a centenarian. He couldn’t move or do anything.
Outside the night was filled with garbled cries and mournful wails. Occasionally he heard something large moving around just below the window. He shivered. He was in hell. The succubi had taken him back to hell with them.
He looked around the room. Moving his head was just about the limit of what he could do. He was in some kind of bedroom. The bed took up most of the room. It was easily large enough for five or six people. Thick velvet drapes hung from the ceiling above it like a tent. Beyond the bed Phil saw antique furniture carved with designs that were both lewd and grotesque.
“Oh dear, they really have had a good suck on you.”
The voice was warm, rich and huskily erotic. Phil turned to the source and saw a tall, voluptuous woman standing in the doorway. Rosa and Verdé looked like teenaged girls with the bodies of porn stars. The newcomer looked like a porn star with the face of an angel. She had a full, womanly figure and despite looking older, was no less attractive for it.
She was dressed in a white nurse’s outfit with a red cross on the front. Silky blonde hair spilled out from beneath a white nurse’s cap. It took him a little while to realise what was odd about her outfit. It was rubber. He’d seen that gleam before in pictures in the fetish catalogues Jake kept salted away under his bed.
“Who…uh?” Phil mumbled.
“I’m Nurse Honey.” She smiled at him like sunshine. “And what’s your name, dear?”
“Phil,” he replied.
His gaze was drawn to her chest. Nurse Honey had a lot of bosom and her rubber nurse’s outfit had to stretch tightly to contain all of it. She walked breezily around the side of the bed.
“Now don’t you worry, Phil, I’ll get you back on your feet in no time at all.”
She gripped the silk sheet and pulled it aside to leave Phil’s wasted body exposed to the warm night air. He noticed she was wearing white rubber gloves that extended all the way back to her elbows.
“Tsk,” she said on seeing the state of his body. “Those girls.”
She leant over Phil until his view was completely filled by the white expanse of her bosom. She fluffed up a pillow behind his head and moved his body up into a more comfortable position. As she did Phil caught a trace of her scent, clean but with traces of a sultry tang that caused his nostrils to dilate with excitement.
“I’ll have to start treatment right away,” she said.
She gripped the end of her gloves and peeled them off with one fluid motion. She took off her cap and shook out the silky waves of her long blonde hair. It was then Phil finally noticed her eyes. They were completely white. There was no iris or pupil, just a uniform, milky-white sclera.
Phil didn’t really have time to let that sink in before his attentions were pulled elsewhere. Nurse Honey unzipped her uniform and undressed right in front of him.
They were enormous.
He didn’t want to stare, he felt like some kind of dirty old pervert, but he couldn’t help himself. They entranced him completely. He couldn’t look away.
They were enormous.
His gaze was trapped as it ran along the firm curves, ascended the mounds of soft, ripe flesh and finally was drawn, speared, by her erect pink nipples as they rose from a circle of darker coloured flesh. They were real, not like the plastic ones he’d seen in some of Jake’s adult films, and much larger than even those amply endowed women possessed.
He was still mesmerised as she got into bed and lay alongside him. Her body was curvaceous and inviting, but possessed not an inch of excess fat.
“We need to replenish your fluids,” Nurse Honey said. She leant over and lifted his head up until his mouth was brought close to the nipple of one of her breasts.
Did she want him to suck?
Phil was less than enthusiastic. The way she cradled his feeble body and proffered her breast to him made him feel undignified. Like he was a baby. She wanted him to suckle at her teat like a helpless baby.
He watched as a dribble of clearish liquid oozed from her nipple and ran down the slope of her breast.
No, he wasn’
t going to do that. He wasn’t going to demean himself any further.
“Most men can’t resist the urge to put their hands or lips on my breasts,” Nurse Honey said, gently running long nails through Phil’s lank hair. “Verdé said you were more stubborn than most. She said I might need to give you a little more encouragement.”