Chapter 6: Wakey Wakey
Theo’s consciousness was pried from the depths of sleep not by an alarm, but by a suffocating warmth enveloping his cock. His eyes shot open to a world still cast in the dull gray of pre-dawn. Lily’s wild mane of red and black hair was a riot on his stomach, her head bobbing rhythmically beneath the rumpled duvet. A low, guttural groan escaped him, half-protest, half-surrender, as her talented mouth wreaked havoc on his nervous system.
“Mmmph… ‘wake already?” her voice was muffled, thick with sleep and saliva. She didn’t stop, her pace intensifying. The sheet tented and fell with her movements. “Good. First breakfast of the day… gotta keep my little man’s energy up.” Her words were punctuated by a deep, throaty swallow that made his back arch off the mattress. The sensation was impossibly wet, hot, and demanding. He could feel every ridge of her palate, the flickering dance of her tongue.
Just as he felt himself teetering on the edge, she pulled off with a loud, lewd pop. A string of spit connected her swollen lips to his glistening tip. She grinned up at him, her blue eyes glowing with mischievous fire. “Nuh-uh. Not yet. That was just to get the engine running.” She then dove back down, but this time her technique changed. It became sloppier, more primal. Guttural gagging sounds echoed in the quiet room, followed by a torrent of spit that dripped down his balls and soaked the sheets beneath him. She was making a show of it, a messy, noisy, deeply obscene performance entirely for his overwhelmed benefit.
He came, explosively, his vision whiting out. She took it all, swallowing with an exaggerated, satisfied sigh before crawling up his body. Before he could even process the aftershocks, she was kissing him, forcing the taste of himself onto his tongue. “One down,” she whispered against his lips.
Theo barely had time to catch his breath before she was on him again. His body, still humming with residual electricity, was shocked back to life by her relentless mouth. This time, her hands joined, cupping and kneading his balls with a possessiveness that was both terrifying and thrilling. The sounds were even wetter, more profane. She deep-throated him with a fervor that made him gasp, her nose buried in his pubic hair. The second climax was ripped from him, a weaker, more shuddering release that she again consumed with gusto, lapping up every last drop like a cat with cream.
“Two,” she cooed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She collapsed beside him, her impossibly soft, heavy breasts pressing against his side. “Just… just a minute,” he pleaded, his voice a ragged whisper.
“Tick-tock, loverboy. Sun’s almost up.” She gave him no quarter. The third time was a blur of sheer, overstimulated sensation. His cock was achingly sensitive, and her mouth felt like a brand. She was relentless, her lips, tongue, and throat working in a symphony of obscene, slurping, gurgling noises. It was less about pleasure and more about pure, raw conquest. When he spent himself for the third time, there was almost nothing left, a dry, aching pulse that left him trembling.
Lily finally surfaced, her face flushed, her chin slick. She looked immensely pleased with herself. “There. All charged up.” She rolled off the bed in one fluid, inhumanly graceful motion, stretching her arms above her head. Theo could only lie there, a spent, panting wreck, staring at the water-stained ceiling tiles.
He watched as she padded, naked, to the center of the room. “Alright, fun’s over for now. Time for your Succubitch to go undercover.” She winked at him. “Can’t very well walk around looking like this if we’re gonna scope out your future harem, can I? The mortal world isn’t ready for all this.” She gestured down her own lavish body with a theatrical flourish.
A shimmering darkness enveloped her, like heat haze off summer pavement. Her form seemed to waver and compact. The demonic, otherworldly shimmer of her skin faded to a pale, human tone adorned with a lattice of fake tattoos. Her colossal breasts and jiggling bubble butt shrunk… but only relatively. They were still impossibly, eye-catchingly generous, just now contained within the realm of improbable human genetics. Her hair shortened and styled itself into a choppy, jet-black bob with sharp red streaks. Her piercing blue eyes dulled slightly behind a curtain of heavy mascara. She was now the epitome of a campus goth girl, clad in a tight band t-shirt she’d conjured from nowhere, ripped fishnet stockings, and heavy combat boots.
She sauntered over to his closet and rifled through it, pulling out a relatively clean graphic tee and a pair of his cargo pants. “Here. Get dressed, nerd.” She tossed the clothes onto his chest. “We’re going to the student union. I need coffee, and you need to point out every girl you’ve ever secretly wanted to rail.”
Theo slowly, painfully, sat up. Every muscle ached. “Lily, I… I can’t even walk.”
She leaned in, gripping his chin, her new, more mundane appearance doing nothing to diminish the intensity in her eyes. “You can, and you will. Because I said so.” She gave him a long, sloppy lick from his chin to his forehead, a possessive gesture that was becoming familiar. “It’s a shame, really. This new form is so… restrained. These.” She cupped her own, still-spectacular breasts and gave them a mournful jiggle. “These are a mere shadow of their former glory. A tragedy. But necessary.”
Letting go, she slapped his thigh playfully. “So up and at ‘em, Theodore. Your demonic wingwoman awaits. Let’s go scope out your next dates, little man.”