Succubus Self - TG

Sandy stretched as she sipped at her cola, wings shifted into nonexistence along with the rest of her succubus traits as she took a night off from seduction. It felt good to let her human side play out now and again, she thought, taking another gulp of soda as she surveyed the room. A night off from the seduction, and the constant testing and pulling of the symbiotic relationship she had with Greg. It would be really nice to have a night like that, she sighed, before shooting a glance at the man who'd been staring at her steadily for the last fifteen minutes.

She checked him out from the corner of her eyes, noting his hard muscles, and rugged features. Her type she decided, hiding a smile with her soda as she took another sip. No lust in his eyes, though, she sighed, recognizing the malevolent glare he was giving her. He was either a self hating gay who blamed her for not getting hard enough, or a demon hunter. Judging by the fact that he wasn't sparing the other girls a glance, she was guessing the latter.

Groaning a little, she placed her unfinished soda on the table, wishing she'd gone for a root beer instead. Coke made her too jittery before a fight. "So," she asked, stalking over to him as she stretched, "you gonna make me do this here, or are you willing to keep things quiet for the barkeep and let it go else where?" She glanced around at the men, noting a few envious stares before smiling slightly. "I don't know about you, but I think this place looks about the right size for an orgy."

"Demonness," he spat, hawking next to her foot.

She smirked at it, raising an eyebrow. "You talk about it like it's a bad thing. Let me guess, some demon or another killed your father, and now you're out for revenge upon us stiffs who happen to wander into your radar?"

"Bitch," he muttered, taking a sip of alcohol. She sighed, pretending to let loose a knot of worry at talking to an amateur, while calculating just how much of drinking was faked. Most of it, she noted, careful not to stare at the bottle for too long as she leaned against the table. The hem of her dress pulled up as she leaned into it, excess fibers sliding into her. Neither she or Greg bothered with clothes, anymore, when she could make more fashionable things at will. Greg had gotten over it when he'd realized she wouldn't tear through his shirts every time they transformed back into her at night.

Besides, she added to herself as she leaned across the table to tap a finger on his chin, it made showing off your cleavage much easier. "Look," she purred. "Why don't I go out, and help you work out all that excess alcohol with a nice long romp in the sack? Succubi aren't all bad, you know… we've got our high spots…"

His calculating eyes met hers for a moment, the two analyzing each other for a breath before he gave a slight nod of acknowledgement for her skills. She'd seen it before, or at least the T.V. character she'd once been based on had. But that was before she'd blended with Greg, back when she was just a rogue series of nanobots which had managed to stumble into a world of magic due to their blundering creator. She was better than that, now, and ready to kick this boys ass. She shook her head in a silent toast to the idea, walking out on wobbled legs to lead the way.

In his defense, he didn't try to play her like a fool with a flashy exit, simply sliding out with his hands in his pants. She glanced at it wistfully in the hopes that he'd pull out his "sword," but wasn't surprised in the slightest when he brought out a dagger instead. "Really?" she muttered, glaring at him with a sense of exasperation. "Silver? Let me guess, thrice blessed, too?"

"It cuts demonic bonds to this plane," he shrugged, dropping some of his belligerent act as she gestured for her to go forward.

She ignored him, stalking on past and down an alley instead. "You're being ridiculous, you know," she declared. "For one thing, I'm a succubus. The silver won't work on me - I don't have connections to death, I have connections to sex, which is a part of life. You can't just cut me out of it."

"You still kill people," he pointed out, gesturing for her to move further down the alley in an attempt to regain some control.

She ignored it. "The average succubus has to kill once every fifty years. I only do it once every hundred, and I take the slime so low the police don't know how to get their grips on them. Which brings me to the second point," she added, grabbing his wrist before he could move and twisting it, prying the blade from his surprised hands. "I'm half human. I can touch the holy stuff." She glanced at it a few minutes, before tucking it into her belt for possible use against her brethren. "Read my stats on the web sometime, hunter," she yawned, stretching a little. "I'm the town superhero, not the bad guy. If you're really lucky, you might even get a blurry photo of my bare boobs to look at."

He cursed at her, reaching for his gun as she casually reached out and gripped his wrists "Why do you people always do that?" she demanded, her fingernails burning into her wrist as she let the magic flow. She ignored the mans squirming as his wrists began to thin, stepping on his leg and pinning it to the floor when he tried to kick hers out from under her.

"Seriously," she demanded, shifting her grip a little as the arm shortened, the man's shoulders getting smaller as his body shrank down. "I wanna know. Why do you always insist that I'm the bad guy, and you can win, even after I clearly state every reason why you can't? I mean, I thought it was just bad scripting, but seeing it in real life…" she sighed, noting the man's chest began to bulge as his hair grew down to his bottom. "That's gonna feel real good, by the way," she warned, holding her tongue as his chest began to squirm, overly sensitive breasts pressing against cloth until he gasped. Sighing, she reached out, delicately tearing the cloth from his skin to expose it to the air.

"See?" she demanded. "I do things for people! I bet you hadn't even known that a succubus's skin was five times more sensitive to pleasure than a humans, until you felt your breasts pressing against them. Oh, here, I'll help you with that," she smiled, yanking down the pants of the wiggling man, and tearing through his underwear as his groin began to crack, his manhood sliding inside. She prodded against it, helping it along as the man gasped, too preoccupied to fight. "Your skins a bit extra sensitive than normal even for us, right now," she warned. "Leave it up to the air and you'll build up some resistance… flying's good for that. Speaking of which…" she grinned as she watched his wings budding, batlike protrusions spreading out from him as a tail began to push its way out of her bottom. The horns were last, bare nubs for the time being. "You don't have much power, right now," she mused. "You'll need training, before you can do things like me…" She shrugged. "You might be able to grow some clothes, though. Our own fibers are the only things that won't hurt, even for half humans like us."

"What… What am I supposed to do now?" she demanded, confidence gone with the change in body.

"For now?" she shrugged, dissolving her clothing as wings began to unfurl from her back. "Go to the bus corner and get on. There's a bus that doesn't ask questions. It'll be the one that actually stops for you. In a couple weeks, when you've come to peace with yourself… Look for me here, or on a roof top. We'll talk." Sandy flashed the new girl a grin, flexing her leg muscles.  "Maybe you can be my sidekick."

The girl would be there, she knew, snapping her wings out to catch the air as she glided towards home and Greg's bed. Battered and confused, her thighs sore from a lack of control and with a new name she'd barely spent any time thinking of, but she'd be there, trying to understand who and what she was.

Sandy would help her, guide her, show her powers and maybe even sleep with her if she came along nicely. But first the girl had to learn to be herself.

That was always the toughest lesson, anyway.