Chapter 1: In the Beginning...

I'd always been fascinated with mythology. When I was younger, I'd plagued my mother to take me to the library, where I devoured everything in the Junior and Young Adult Fiction section about the Greeks, the Norse, and even Indian mythology. But my favourite stories were always those about angels and demons- clear-cut good guys and bad guys. My mother had grown up in a strict family, and when she'd fallen pregnant at sixteen, they'd cut her off and the guy she'd been with had dumped her, leaving her to care for herself and me as we both grew up. Needless to say, anything related to her old religion was something of a sore spot, so books about angels and demons were a rare treat, reserved for special occasions or if I'd been particularly well behaved.

Once I had an allowance, and later a job, I was free of that restriction. I bought comics, novels, and even philosophy books about the subject. I can remember being so disappointed when I found out that Warren Worthington- "Angel" in the X-Men- was just a mutant. But at least there were demons in there, even if they were weird. Any way, although I was interested in the mythology, I'd never particularly cared for the occult.

Eventually, I hit puberty. And we all know what that means; a fascination with sex. At that time, I figured out what the big deal was with succubi, stunning female demons who would show up in the middle of the night, screw the living shit out of men, and then vanish into the ... well, wherever it was they came from. Sure, at the time I dismissed it as the attempt of primitive humans to explain nocturnal emissions by blaming their sex dreams and ejaculations on some ethereal female spirit, but the idea was intriguing.

In time, succubi became my fantasy fixation. I found comics about them, read stories about them, and downloaded many pictures and hentai magazines featuring them. Honestly, I think I single-handedly kept Kleenex in business. Any way, I was in a second-hand book store one day, and I stumbled across an old, leather-bound book with cracking and yellowed pages. It purported to be about the summoning and control of demons, and there were illustrations of succubi in there. Lame, I know, but still it was on special for five bucks, and after I told the store clerk I was buying it for a University course on comparative religion, he even knocked it down to half-price. When I got it home I attempted to read it, discovering to my infinite frustration that many parts of the text were in other languages.

Translating different sections of the book became something of a hobby for me. My mother approved of it, because it kept me home and out of trouble- as well as learning other languages. Admittedly I wasn't going to be holding a conversation in Latin or Aramaic or whatever, but at least it meant I was quiet and not getting wasted on drugs or alcohol like many of my other fellow students. After about a year, I'd finally managed to translate the chapter about succubi, except for the last few pages. Written across about eight dead languages and some seriously butchered Ye Olde Anglish, it detailed the summoning of a succubus. The next few pages were in a combination of Sumerian Cuneiform A and what looked to be gibberish, and since both languages were untranslatable- one lost and the other nonexistent- I gave up on the project, which lay abandoned for almost half a year.

I had almost forgotten about my "great work," focusing instead on my uni course and part-time job. Until, at least, that one fateful night. I'd been out on a date that had gone horribly- at least for me. The girl I'd asked out was one I'd been attracted to for quite a while, and I'd learned she had finally broken up with her boyfriend. I spent the entire date listening to he complain about her former relationship and men in general, slowly coming to the conclusion that she was not over it yet. She was; in any case, something of a shrew- vicious towards the serving staff at the restaurant, making a scene when her steak arrived too cooked for her tastes. She had ordered a rare, and it was bleeding when she got it- I can only assume she prefers to eat meat that moos when it is poked, and generally being difficult. To dull my senses, I'd drank, far more heavily than I would otherwise have, but no so much that I was unable to make some excuses and depart. As I went to leave, she closed in for the kill, kissing me and groping at my groin. It had been a while for me, and this girl was incredibly gorgeous, even if she did have the personality of a harpy.

After breaking free of her clutches, I fled. But I was turned on- after all, I don't get fondled every day. Sighing, I reached for my old stand-by, firing up my computer and opening my succubus files. There, almost entirely out of memory, was the translation of the old book. Above my laptop was a small library, containing my favourite books- and the occult tome I'd bought so long ago. Shit, I thought, might as well give it a go, and when it doesn't work I can either jack off or go have a cold shower. Anything to pass the time.

Opening the file and the old book, I discovered that the spell (I snorted at the idea, too) would require only a few simple ingredients; something to mark off a summoning circle and pentagram, along with five candles and some of my blood. Weaving downstairs, I managed to dig the candles out of our blackout supply toolbox, and snagged one of my mother's sewing needles so I could draw some blood. Yeah, on the TV they always make that long, deep cut across their palms, but who's stupid enough to do that in real life, even when drunk? Nobody needs that kind of pain or the risks of cutting through the muscles that move your fingers ... but I digress. I got the gear, with the marking instrument being some conte crayons I had left over from a fine arts course at uni. Since my bedroom floor was tiled, I figured it would be reasonably easy to clean off with a mop and some ammonia, if worst came to worst.

Unfortunately, I wasn't as ninja-like as I ordinarily would have been. As I wobbled back up stairs, I tripped over and crashed down, with a loud thump the natural result. Gathering myself up, I heard my mother's bedside lamp click on, followed by her door opening. I jammed the kit down my pants, palming the needle, and tried to look innocent. Mum merely raised an eyebrow at my evidently less-than-sober state, then bid me a good night and closed her door. I all but ran back to my room, waiting for her stop moving. It took agonising minutes, as her door opened again and footsteps padded downstairs. Heart in my throat, I could hear her open the fridge and put the kettle on; soon enough, though, the dull sound of the some nature documentary started up. I reasoned that she'd settled in to watch something and have a late snack while she waited for the adrenaline jag of being woken so abruptly wore off.

Carefully marking out the summoning circle and transcribing the runes from the text took time, especially as I was making such an effort to be precise. By the time I'd finished I was nearly sober, with only the good-time buzz remaining. I briefly considered the notion of giving up and going to bed, but having marked out the circle and positioned the candles as directed I was but a quick chant and some blood away from getting the job done. I mentally shrugged, then continued. The ritual called for some blood to be on the wicks of each candle, which I dutifully followed, then lit them and mangled my way through the phonetics I'd taught myself to deal with the chants required, my voice barely above a whisper.

The spell finally complete, I stared at the circle. Smoking-hot hellbabe in three, two, one ... and nothing happened. As you'd expect. I mean, come on- demon summoning? With a book I'd found in a second-hand store? Really? What was I thinking? Sighing, I leaned down and blew the candles out one by one, then stretched out. Behind me, I heard footsteps; too late for me to reach and lock the door I'd stupidly left unlocked throughout. I scrambled to try and come up with an explanation for the mess on the floor, settling instead on slapping the light switch and hoping that, in the darkness, my mother wouldn't be able to make out what I'd done. My son, the demonologist; I could just imagine how that would play out.

Instead, I got the shock of my life. The hallway light, just outside my door, outlined the silhouette of my mother's naked form. She was reasonably good-looking, seeming three or four years short of her real age, but hardly a cover girl or pornstar. But still, she had stripped her nightgown off, and even though I couldn't make out her genitals, her bust was clearly visible, in all of its C-cup glory.

She cocked her head to one side, smirked, and husked "You rang?"

My jaw swung open. "Ah, mum, I- it's not what it looks like, I was just-" "Just nothing, darling," she interrupted, sashaying over to me and flipping on the lights. In full light, it was clear that she waxed her legs and shaved her pubic hair, with her labia very much visible and, to my somewhat inexperienced eyes, apparently engorged. Then I realised I was staring- no, wait, make that leering- at my mother's cunt. So wrong. "You called. I am here." And with that, she breathed deeply, thrusting her chest out and reaching for my belt. Snapping out of my lust-fogged haze, I backed away, meeting her gaze.

My mother ... wasn't in there. There was something about the eyes; gone was the care and compassion I usually found, replaced with something ancient. Something ... predatory. Primal. But promising the fulfilment of carnal desires I could only barely begin to imagine, oh yes. And instead of the slightly pursed lips, her mouth had a cruel set to it. I continued inching backwards until I hit the wall, coming out with a weak "Mum, what? I- you- that is-"

Again she cut me off, snapping "Your mother is not here, Summoner. In accordance with the rite you performed, I have taken residence in this shell. Since it was your desire to mate with this frame, we should not tarry. My time this night is short, and long have I been denied the pleasures-" at this, she licked her lips, sending a shiver down my spine "-of mortal flesh."

My mind raced. Considering the facts rationally, I came to the only possible conclusion; my mother had stumbled across me attempting to bring something forth, and had decided that the best way to punish me would be to give me a fright, to remind me that her childhood beliefs were not to be bought up. Let alone done in such a way that made a mess of my floor, in her house.

Having come up with a plausible explanation, I relaxed. With a little gulp, I began my apologies. "I'm sorry. I had a bad night, and I was drunk, and well, you know, I just thought it would be something to do. I'm sorry about the mess. I'll clean the floor first thing in the morning, I promise."

The superior look on her face turned into a smug expression. She advanced on my, holding my gaze, until she had her body pressed against me, its heat radiating. I felt her hand on my crotch; I was sporting a tremendous erection. A boner. For my mother. How charming. Her other hand brushed at my face, before grabbing my jaw and locking my eyes on hers.

"Your mother appreciates a clean and tidy house. I am sure she will be pleased that you have such a regard for her standards of cleanliness. But again, my Summoner, she is not here. I must confess, this is unique even for one of my kind. We have been called for the forbidden fruit in the past- an adulterous man seeking the wife of another, a noble desiring the daughter of some enemy. One of my sisters was even called up by that dolt Crowley because he wanted to see a woman mate with a goat. But a son calling one of us to animate his mother? Ah, delicious. Such a taboo."

I swallowed, my throat dry. "Still you do not believe." She released my head and the hand rubbing at my cock was gone. Her eyes alighted on the open book, and she turned slowly, gracefully, making sure to give me a good view of her backside and hips as she swayed seductively over to my desk. Leaning forward to get a better view of the mouldering tome, she parted her legs, allowing me to clearly see that she had flowered open slightly with her own arousal, moisture glistening on the lips of her sex. She closed the book with a snap, whirling to face me. With the sudden movement, her breasts jiggled; I forced my eyes up from my mother's most intimate, most forbidden places, setting my field of view firmly on her face. She eyed me coyly, dropping her own gaze to my visible erection.

"So, you found one of the old books. We thought we had accounted for all of these a century ago and more. But not an original, I fancy. A copy only, and one you cannot read at that." She sashayed forwards, her hips weaving hypnotically. Standing before me, she opened the chapter on succubi, holding it open to face me in both hands and allowing it to rest on her breasts, heaving with each breath for my obvious benefit. Despite myself, my cock lurched. I could feel the familiar, if unwelcome, wetness of pre-cum in my pants. Enthralled, I watched as one of her delicate fingers traced over the words as her explanation continued.

"The rite you used is a beacon to my sisters and I. The circle draws us in, the runes binding us to the flesh the Summoner lusts after. Thus guided, we inhabit the mortal shell, making it possible for the Summoner to mate-" at this she paused, a sly look emerging on her face as she assessed my reaction "to fuck, should I say, with. Ah, but I see your understanding of the book is limited, mortal. Such a pity. In your haste to bed your mother- and I again congratulate you on your sense of ambition- you failed to constrain me fully. Properly. Yes, by the terms of the rite I am bound to this flesh, but not compelled to obey you completely."

She snarled, her face a sudden mask of rage beyond belief. She held the book out in one hand, glaring at it as though the inanimate object was her most hated foe. Then, with a whiff of rotten eggs, a sickly green flame began to lick at the bottom of the book, consuming it utterly within seconds and leaving only a trace of ash behind.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I thought desperately. It actually worked. A succubus. But it's possessed my mother, and it's pissed and the only thing I could have used against it just went up in smoke.

"So, mortal. You have given this flesh over to me. Now I am here. And what shall we do? It appears as though you are ready to fuck. I know I am, and what I wish this shell provides." One hand snaked down to her parted thighs, fingers opening her labia and coming away wet. "So. Strip. And begin. I have not enjoyed such sport in centuries."

I desperately tried to come up with a way out. Her foot tapped the floor impatiently. "I, uh. It's just that. Um..." I trailed off. A look of comprehension dawned on her face. "Ah, I think I see. You though to summon a succubus directly, turn her into your plaything." At this, she laughed- and not with mirth, either, but some cutting sound that had the warmth of deep winter. "This text could never have taught you that. Long ago, my sisters and I hunted down and eradicated every mortal with such ability. It was in the blood, you know, the scions of Solomon. The best any have managed since is the rite you used, one that allows us to possess a mortal host and use it. Well, well. This is interesting. I presume you do not wish to fuck your mother after all, human?"

I shook my head. My erection disagreed pretty strongly, but give me a break- I was dealing with a succubus here, a creature that defined sexuality. I even managed to croak out a "No."

Her face settled again into its haughty mask. "Well, then. You have a choice, human. Once bound to the mortal realm, I can sustain myself only on sexual energy, or the direct consumption of a soul. So it would appear you have a few options. One, I could send your mother's spirit to oblivion. Two, I could send your spirit to oblivion. Third, I could walk out of here as I am now and sate myself on the excesses of strangers. But from this shell's mind, I see that there are a number of conditions that now afflict those who indulge with too many partners, too incautiously. Perhaps I could make a game of it, attempt to acquire all of them before this frame dies from one or the other. Or..." she stopped, waiting on me to fill in the blanks. "Or I could do what you say and keep my mother's spirit and body safe."

She nodded. So that was it, then. Either I fucked my mother's body- whether she was in the driver's seat or not- or I handed my mother's body and life over to a demoness. Or I let her kill me. The lesser of four evils, I thought. Play for time. If demons can be summoned, they can be exorcised as well. "Could I ... could I have some time to think about it?"

She arched an eyebrow, contempt clear on her face. "Very well. You may have one hour, mortal. Should you have come to no decision by then, I will consume your soul and then your mother's, and then take care of my own desires. Think well, and think fast." She turned, shimmying her hips deliberately as she walked out of my room. At the door, she looked back over her shoulder, noting that my eyes had settled on her rump. The cruel smirk made a return, and she flounced off for my mother's bedroom.

I looked at the clock. 1: 05 am. To be on the safe side, I had to decide by two o'clock. If I took any longer, she might just kill me and go on her way just for the fun of it. The reality was clear; if I wanted to have any chance to free my mother from the demon that wore her body like some kind of grotesque costume, I was going to have to fuck ... no. I couldn't just fuck my mother. It would have to be fast, a quickie, wham-bam-no-thank-you-m'am, and then have done. With any luck after that, either the spell would end and send her home, or I'd find some way to free her once the sun came up. Still, the notion of sticking my cock into the- and I couldn't think of it as cunt or pussy- vagina I had come from wasn't overly appealing. I stared at the clock whilst I wasted time, watching it inch closer and closer to 1:55. With not much left on her offer, I could delay no longer and padded down the hall to my mother's room.

It was a mess. Clothes and lingerie littered the floor; the succubus had evidently been busy. I poked my head into the walk-in wardrobe, finding her standing there with two dresses, one in each hand. She was wearing black, lacy undergarments- a balconette bra and matching pair of briefs, with a black lace garter belt and sheer black stockings. Whirling, she held up one dress to her body and then the other. "Well, Summoner? Which would you prefer?"

"Neither." I cleared my throat. "I've come to let you know about my decision. I ... agree to the last option." My voice cracked despite my best attempts to be strong, the last words all but a whisper. She squealed with delight, dropping the dresses. The bra had done some interesting things to her bust line, and as she walked towards me she threatened to spill out of the top. Time slowed to a crawl, and I idly noted that she'd put her panties on over the garter belt's straps, allowing her to remove them without the hassle of dealing with the belt, straps, or stockings.

"Come, then, Summoner. Or should I say-" her demeanour changed, mimicking the owner of her 'shell' "-son. This body hasn't been fucked for years. I certainly haven't had any in almost three centuries. You're in for it now, boy." Saying that, she brushed past me, making a beeline for my mother's double bed. Without fuss, she slipped her panties off and opened her legs, propping herself up on one elbow and eyeing me expectantly. I hung my head, shuffling forward. When I made no attempt to undress, she sighed and began to unbutton my shirt and unclasp my belt; soon enough, I stood before my mother as naked as the first time she'd seen me. Of course, back then she wasn't dressed like a Victoria's Secret model, and I certainly wasn't full-grown.

Not that I was now, either. Funnily enough, being coerced into having sex with a succubus who's possessed your mother's body doesn't really do much for the libido. I had been hoping to use that to play for time, but I was up against a creature that had been around since God only knew when, and which had been summoned to slake the lusts of generations of men. I had no chance; she knew exactly what to do to get me turned on. It took only a few moments for her to fondle me into hardness, occasionally slipping me into her mouth for variety. All too soon, I was erect.

Having achieved her goal, she scuttled backwards on the bed, lying down in front of me with her legs parted. Liking her upper lip, she slid one hand down to her pubis, using her first and third fingers to open her labia whilst the middle finger rubbed at her engorged clitoris. Her other hand beckoned me forwards. Taking a deep breath, I got down on all fours and inched my way up the bed, until we were face to face, my weight supported on my arms. I stared resolutely at the bed head, not daring to look any further upon the naked form of my mother. My penis, bobbing with arousal, hung just in front of her genitals, and as it jerked up and down, I could feel it brushing against her lips, silky and slick with her own fluids. Without warning, her hands grabbed my hips and dragged them at an oblique angle, spearing deeply into her. Gasping, I looked down in shock; my mother's face was arranged into a semblance of amusement, the succubus within obviously enjoying what she was doing.

"Well," she began "are you going to do this? Are you going to be a good boy and fuck your mother? Come in her cunt?" She giggled, sending vibrations up my shaft. Unconsciously, I began to move, sliding to full depth within her, then back out. Realising what I'd done, I screwed my eyes shut, desperately tried to think about anything other than what I was doing or Oedipal myths, and began to piston mechanically back and forth within my mother's vagina.

There is one benefit to being a male when you have sex; even when it's not good, even when you don't want to enjoy it, arriving at orgasm is always easy. After a couple of minutes pounding away, and as long as you make no attempt to prolong the experience, you can quite easily finish the deed. It took minutes; it took an eternity, but eventually I was there. My balls contracted, my muscles clenched, I rammed my cock as deeply as I could within my mother's body, and semen flowed from me into her. Belatedly, I realised that I had not worn a condom and was unsure as to my mother's regime for contraception- what son goes there? Better by far to leave it a mystery.

Groaning, I rolled off her and opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling as my cock deflated. The experience had been, mercifully, brief. Turning my body away from my mother, I sat up and made to leave. Behind me, I could feel weight begin to shift; before I could stand, I could feel my mother's breasts against my back, pebbled nipples hard enough to be felt even through the lacy bra pressing against me. One hand came to rest on my left shoulder, whilst her face appeared in the periphery of my right eye. The other hand snaked beneath my right arm, fondling my sodden penis.

"Come, now, Summoner. That little performance was dreadful. I've had a better effort from octogenarians! I know you can improve. And, with my guidance, you shall." With that, she murmured an indistinct phrase, running a fingernail underneath my cock, base to tip. My head swam, and a trace of rotten egg once again fouled the air. Abruptly, I was hard again, my body fired with a lust I'd never known before, even during my most ferocious... "personal sessions" in the past. Strong hands leaned me back against the bed, and my mother's form straddled me. She brushed her fingers across my temple, murmuring again; the nausea abated and everything came into sudden focus. My mother, kneeling above me, her labia caressing my glans, still wearing the black balconette bra, garter belt, and sheer black nylons. I tensed, preparing to scurry backwards and flee, but she was faster. With a single, practiced movement she dropped down, my cock angling perfectly within her soaked sex. In an instant, I was fully enveloped, our groins solidly pressed together.

She looked down at me with disapproval, clearly knowing I had wanted to escape. "Now, mortal. Just think. This is an experience unique in the history of mankind. Other sons may mate with their mothers, by the choice of one or both, but their sex will never scale the heights ours shall. No mortal has my experience, nor my ability to control herself." The vagina clutching at me rippled rhythmically in time with her words, and despite myself I began to move against her, if only slightly. She smiled down at me, this being the first time she had done so with any other emotion behind the human expression aside from genuine happiness.

If you've ever seen porn, women in the cowgirl position will almost always bounce up and down on their co-star. I had half-expected her to do that, but instead she began to move her hips in what, side-on, would have been a circular motion. At the apex of the circle, my glans was barely held in by her labia minora, whilst at its nadir I was encompassed fully by the same channel I had once been expelled from. Each time our groins met, she would grind herself heavily into me, stimulating her clitoris. And all the while, the muscles inside her squeezed, heightening the sensation of my cock sliding over the striations of her blood-gorged vagina. My pubic hair was thickly matted, soaked through with a mixture of my mother's lubricant and the semen I had deposited within her mere moments ago. Coming to what passed for my senses that night, I steeled myself and stopped moving-stopped fucking my mother. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes. She giggled above me, and her weight shifted slightly; I heard her unclasp the bra. Seconds later, something soft and light hit me in the face, whilst one of my nipples was grabbed and violently twisted. "Eyes open, mortal. I am a mistress of not just pleasure, but pain. Cross me again, and it will not be to your liking."

My head, held at an angle by the pillows, had an unwelcome effect on my field of view; as soon as I obeyed her and opened my eyes, I was rewarded with the sight of my cock vanishing between my mother's thighs. As my gaze travelled upwards, it flitted to my mother's unconstrained breasts, jiggling with every movement and flushed pink with arousal. Finally, my eyes settled on her face, ecstatic with pleasure derived from fucking. "Shall we begin your education, son? In this position, most of my stimulation is derived from my own movements. But you can contribute. Give me your hands."

Too shaken to rail against her, held my hands up; she took them in hers, guiding them to my mother's breasts. Deft fingers positioned them, cupping them at the sides and cradling most of their mass in the palm of my hand, whilst my thumb was placed over her aureoles and nipples. "Now, rub at them in circles."

I obeyed. My thumbs stroked in circles that reminded me of scrolling through songs on my iPod. Seizing on the mental image, I tried to focus on it, tried to think of being anywhere else, doing anything else, aside from being balls deep in my mother whilst a demoness instructed me in the finer arts of fucking. Although my eyes were fixed on a point just behind my mother's left ear on the far wall of her bedroom, I could see her eyelids flutter briefly and then close, a hoarse moan of sensuous pleasure escaping her mouth. She arched her back, craned her neck, and aligned her face with the ceiling.

Having obviously achieved her objective, the succubus' borrowed voice was no longer cutting and cruel, but deep, rich, and vibrant, smoky with arousal and clearly pitched to inflame the listener with desire. "Yesss," she drew out the syllable, rocking back and forth atop me "very good. Now, pinch my nipples. Gently. Then slowly roll them between your fingers." I gingerly gripped the points of her breasts between thumb and forefinger, squeezing them lightly and running my thumbs upwards, dragging the hardened nipples into a slight turn. "Oh, yes. Very good. You are an adept student, I perceive." She gasped for breath, the flush along her neck and bust deepening by the moment, grinding herself onto me as hard as she could. Moaning again, she slid up my shaft, the glans popping out from between her inner lips, still cradled within her sodden gash at the entrance to her vagina. Her head snapped back down, locking her eyes with mine. "Slide your hands down my sides, slowly, gently ... yes, that's it ... and grab your mother's hips. Ah, such a good boy. Such a good son, to slake mummy's lusts with his own cock. Now, grab my hips. Harder," another moan escaped her, sending another unwanted surge of lust through me "and fuck me. Fuck your mother. I want you to fuck me really hard, as fast and savage as you can. And do it right, or suffer the consequences."

Not wanting to test her resolve, I again obeyed, dragging her down on top of me as I thrust upwards, a parody of the movement that had begun this incestuous union what felt like an eternity ago. I slammed into her time and again, so furiously that my balls swung up with each stroke, slapping against her body. For her part, the succubus moved her hands to my mother's breasts, pinching, rubbing, and rolling her nipples whilst her eyes slowly closed with dreamy pleasure and her face turned back towards the ceiling. Her breaths quickened, becoming short, sharp pants, and she gasped out "That's it. That's my stud. Fuck me. Fuck your mother, that's it." Suddenly, she moaned, long and low, and her entire body stiffened. Her vagina clamped down viciously onto me, and she shivered, jerking around violently whilst a new wave of slick fluid coated my shaft. An orgasm, I thought. Did the succubus come, or was it my mother? Did it even matter?