Chapter 18: Our daughter
Theo’s desk chair groaned as he sank into it, the last bastion of his former life. He watched, a spectator in his own skull, as the world he knew was dismantled and replaced with something wet, warm, and overwhelmingly female.
Veronica and Lily guided Giana back to the edge of the bed, sitting on either side of her like bookends carved from sin. Giana went willingly, her expression one of curious fascination, as if she were about to be shown a fascinating new app.
“So soft,” Veronica murmured, her voice a husky scrape. She cupped Giana’s face, her thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “Mortal skin. It has this… fleeting warmth. Like bread fresh from an oven.” She leaned in, her black eyes consuming Giana’s gaze. “Do you know how precious you are?”
Before Giana could answer, Lily’s tongue shot out—a long, pink, forked thing—and dragged a sloppy, wet line from Giana’s chin to her temple. It was the same crude, possessive lick she used on Theo. Giana blinked, a giggle bubbling in her throat.
“Salty,” Lily declared, her eyes half-lidded. “And sweet. Like you’ve been snacking on hope and peach gum.” She didn’t ask permission. Her hands, with their sharp, delicate claws, came up and palmed Giana’s breasts through the sweater, squeezing with a practiced, assessing pressure. “Fuck. They’re even better than they look. They’re like… anchors. Holy shit. Do you feel how heavy these are, Mom?”
Veronica was already there. Her larger, more insistent hands pushed Lily’s aside gently, then covered the monumental curves completely, her fingers sinking into the impossibly soft flesh. A shuddering sigh escaped her. “They’re perfect. Life-giving. Abundant.” She nuzzled her face between them, her voice muffled by wool and flesh. “You’re our happy little bimbo now, you know that? Our perfect, well-endowed mortal pet. You like that, huh?”
Theo felt his own face heat, a confusing cocktail of jealousy, arousal, and sheer disbelief tightening his gut. Giana, his crush, the girl he stammered through lab instructions with, was being mauled by two demons and she was… giggling.
Giana’s head lolled back, a dreamy smile on her lips. “It’s… kinda nice. My back’s always so sore. Your hands are really warm.” She blinked slowly, turning her head towards Theo. Her eyes were glazed with a pleasant, unfocused haze. “Theo… you have more girlfriends than I thought. They’re really hands-on.”
“They’re not my—” Theo’s protest died as Veronica pulled her face from Giana’s chest.
“Oh, we’re more than girlfriends, sugar-tits,” Veronica cooed, licking a strand of Giana’s hair. “We’re family. And you’re part of the pantry now.” Her tone shifted, becoming a conspiratorial whisper drenched in lust. “And we’re going to get our Theo so many friends. So many warm, wet, pretty little friends for him to play with. Would you like that? To have lots of sisters to play with?”
Lily’s hand slid down to Giana’s waist, pulling her closer. “He’s our battery. Our little energy source. We’re gonna plug so many things into him.” She grinned, all sharp teeth and promise. “But you… with these?” She gave another firm, worshipful squeeze. “You’ll be our favorite. Yes, you are. Our favorite mortal cow.”
“Moo,” Giana whispered, then giggled again, as if it were the silliest, most natural thing in the world.
The sound broke something in Theo. It wasn’t fear anymore. It was a profound, dizzying sense of dislocation. The last anchor to normality—Giana’s expected terror, her outrage—had just dissolved into a contented, bovine sound. The rules were not just broken; they had been set on fire and used as kindling for some depraved, sensual bonfire.
Veronica crooned, showering Giana’s face with tiny, wet kisses. “Yes, you perfect thing. You get it. No fuss. No tedious mortal panic. Just soft, yielding flesh and a nice, empty little head.”
“Hey, my head’s not empty,” Giana mumbled, though she arched her back into their hands. “I got a B-plus on the last quiz. Theo helped.”
“Smart girl,” Lily purred, her own arousal a palpable heat in the cramped room. She looked over Giana’s head at Theo, her blue eyes glowing with triumph and a dark, shared knowledge. “See, dork? She’s perfect. She doesn’t need you to explain. She just… accepts. Now stop sulking and come over here. You’re part of this.”
Theo didn’t move. His body felt like stone. He watched as the two succubi enveloped Giana, their touches growing more proprietary, more detailed. He saw Veronica’s claw trace the neckline of Giana’s sweater, a silent promise of what was to be uncovered. He saw Lily’s tongue dart out again, this time to catch a bead of sweat trailing down Giana’s neck.
The momentum was absolute. It was a current of pure, unashamed appetite, and it was pulling Giana under. And it was clear, from the dazed smile on her face, from the way her body melted against them, that she had no desire to swim back to the surface.
Theo remained in his chair, the hum of his computer the only sound that belonged to his old world. He was outvoted. He was overruled. He was, as Lily said, the battery. And as he watched his crush become their “favorite mortal cow,” a treacherous, shameful part of him sparked to life, wondering what it would feel like to be plugged in.