Succubus Sister Shana - illustrated
Copyright© 2026 by CreepyUnclePete
Chapter 5
Supernatural Sex Story: Chapter 5 - It's difficult for a homeless young man to take care of his little sister, especially since she's a succubus, a sex vampire.
Caution: This Supernatural Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Fa/Fa Mult Consensual Drunk/Drugged Mind Control Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Paranormal Magic Vampires Sharing Incest Mother Brother Sister Father Daughter FemaleDom Gang Bang Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Anal Sex Cream Pie First Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Smoking Prostitution Illustrated
The smell of stale fries and something metallic, like a penny sitting in a puddle of spit, was the first thing that hit me. I blinked, and bright sunlight made the interior of the Cadillac into a sauna! The leather seats stuck to my bare legs and back. My head was pounding a rhythm that matched the distant hum of tires on asphalt. I tried to remember how I’d gotten into the driver’s seat, or why the hell I was parked on a gravel shoulder of a highway I didn’t recognize.
My shirt and pants were in the passenger seat beside me, but no socks, underwear, or shoes. I put them on and remembered my sister laying eggs. There was something about Chicago, too. One of her eggs was in a backpack in the back seat, padded by blankets. I looked through the car and trunk, but there was only one. Where was the other egg? Where was my sister?
I started the car and drove, following the highway to who knew where. Before long, a sign showed, “Chicago 14 miles” CHICAGO! What the ... The last I remembered, we were in New York!
I felt a need to get to college, any college. I had strange craving, I had to join a fraternity soon. I stopped for lunch and finally recalled Shana’s send off!
“It’s much safer if we split up, Alex. Take an egg to Chicago. Get into college and live at a dorm or frat house, find a place where the testosterone is thick enough to choke a horse. Our daughters need tons of sex, or they’ll starve. Don’t fuck it up, big brother. And fuck her a lot, but only from behind. I’ll find you when her first egg hatches.”
After that, she kissed me, a deep, soul-sucking draw that left me dizzy, and vanished into a cloud of cigarette smoke and chaotic lust.
Now, I was staring at a highway sign for Chicago, clutching a backpack that felt like it contained a ticking bomb of horniness. My brain felt like it had been scrubbed with steel wool, leaving me with nothing but a lingering craving for a beer and the sudden, urgent need to be surrounded by a bunch of meat-headed bros.
I didn’t know how the hell I’d gotten from New York to the Midwest, and frankly, I didn’t care. My only mission was to get this egg into a nest of high-energy males. If Shana was right, my daughter was going to be a little hunger-monster, and the only way to keep her from eating the neighborhood was to keep her supplied with an endless stream of fresh cum.
I rolled into the city, the skyline looming like a concrete jungle of potential targets. I spent the first three hours driving aimlessly through the campus districts, looking for the kind of place that smelled like old gym socks and cheap cologne. I finally spotted a massive, crumbling Victorian house with a porch sagging under the weight of a few half-naked guys tossing a football. A sign showed three Greek letters I didn’t understand.
I parked the Cadillac, which was now smelling faintly of sulfur and expensive perfume, and stepped out. I felt a strange, magnetic pull toward the house, a desperate need to belong to the herd. I walked up to the porch, feeling the weight of the egg in my backpack.
“Yo! Who’s the new blood?” a massive guy with a jawline like a brick and a chest that barely fit in his tank top barked at me.
I looked up at him and suddenly, I wasn’t just thinking about the egg. I was thinking about how much I wanted to be in a room full of guys like him, wondering if they’d mind if I watched them fuck my daughter, or better yet, if they’d watch while I did. The confusion in my head was swirling, but the heat in my pants was steady.
“I’m Alex,” I said, my voice sounding raw. “I heard you guys had a room available.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I reached into the backpack and pulled out the egg. It wasn’t a chicken egg; it was the size of a bowling ball, pulsing with a soft, iridescent violet light that seemed to throb in time with my own heartbeat. The surface was warm, almost feverish, and it smelled like a mix of vanilla and a wet pavement after a summer rain.