Chapter 1: the Story Continues

My mother and I had great hopes when we began our newly-married life together; we intended to have daughters, and in numbers. My mother teased me with the thought of impregnating them as I had her, either because Liira's sisters had made a new home in their bodies or by raising them in an environment where incestuous sex was not simply the norm, but visibly desirable. We made love passionately and often- but good things cannot last.

Liira had worked a glamour to convince people around us that we were not mother and son, but merely a man who had been stalked and trapped by a cougar. It held for a time, but then faltered; much of my fortune had been spent on bribes and blackmail to prevent the story from getting out, but the scandal had forced our family onto the run. Liira, barely three years old by this stage, had hypothesised that the glamour had failed because she lacked the supernatural strength to keep it going; without frequent sex, she had to carefully husband her reserves. Those same reserves which were depleted day by day as she made her slow and mysterious changes to my daughter's body.

As a result, we had fled to a rural area with a small population, reasoning that the nature of the place would protect us from rumours and innuendo. We reasoned that by laying low we would be able to escape the notice of anyone who might be inclined to look too closely into our background. This, too, worked for a while- but not long enough or well enough. Every two or three years, whispers had begun to circulate about the true nature of my relationship with my mother, forcing us to again uproot and flee. Because of the chaotic nature of our lives, we agreed with great sadness to hold off from having children until Liira had fully matured and I could, so to speak, fill her up again.

After ... five? Six, perhaps? Moves- I could no longer be bothered to keep track- Liira finally announced that she was nearly ready. I salivated at the thought; she had put a great deal of effort into her transformation, certainly enough to ensnare me. Do not misunderstand; in my heart of hearts, no woman could compete with my mother for my affection, but thinking with another blood-filled organ ... well. Liira had sculptured her new form well; she stood a shade shorter than I did, with glorious blonde hair and dazzling green eyes. She was buxom, even more so than her mother- a prodigious double D, a fact that she emphasised so effectively by wearing lingerie that seemed designed to work me into frenzy. She had a thin waist, flared hips, and long, well-muscled legs- and she knew exactly how to work them, sashaying along. Under a tight skirt, her well-rounded rump looked like two small animals fighting to get free of a sack. She attracted plenty of attention, and loved the effect she had on men- especially me.

I looked forward to the day I would finally be free to cup those wondrous mounds, explore what lay between her legs, and- best of all- seed her, watching her stomach grow large with my own child and grandchild. She promised me, too, that her daughters would be mine eventually; I longed for a way to travel in time to a place where I would be surrounded by a bevy of my beautiful daughters, each one growing round with new life, and my mother reigning as queen of my heart and household.

All that, however, fell apart. Which is where this story properly begins.

The day before her eighteenth birthday, Liira and a group of her friends- well, girls she was leading astray, at least- had gone to do some shopping. On the way home, the car she was travelling in was struck by another vehicle, which fled the scene. Liira was the only one injured, left in a coma; according to the doctors, she had no higher brain function. We left her body on life support, tearfully, and went home to examine our options.

Ultimately, we concluded that we needed more information. It seemed (and Liira confirmed our suspicions later) that the succubus' spirit had been somehow banished, leaving only the body she had inhabited behind. In case of a supernatural emergency, Liira had prepared a ritual for my mother and I to enact that would summon another powerful spirit we could question and appeal to for aid.

At the time, we had laughed; it called for a small amount of blood, a bull's heart, and a Catholic Church. When questioned about that, Liira had merely shrugged- causing her breasts to wobble about in fascinating motion- and commented that they were actually on the right track, despite their abysmal record of implementing it.

And so it was, on a blustery Winter night, that we staged our daring desecration of the local Church. The parish was small, and with the lack of Priests in the Diocese, conveniently untended; one Priest was charged with the administration of three Parishes, and he lived some distance away.

Our entry was achieved by the simple act of drilling through the lock on the front door; our footsteps echoed on the bare marble floor as we prepared for the blasphemous act. Having cleared the white stone altar of its covering cloth and marked out the summoning circle, I loaded the bleeding bull's heart into the baptismal font, covered it with ash leaves, and then helped my mother undress and get up onto the altar.

The coldness of it shocked her, eliciting a gasp; I knew that if she were not already so aroused, my mother's nipples would have hardened with the chill she felt. After running my fingers through the wet folds of her sex to ensure she was ready for her part in proceedings, I disrobed myself. With one last, passionate kiss before we began, she lay on her back, her legs hanging over the side of the altar, spread wide to receive me. I intoned the tongue-twisting words Liira had prescribed, then slid into my mother's waiting channel. As ever, it was glorious; velvety, tight, and heated. Moving in and out, I watched as she sighed with pleasure, writhed against me, and after fluttering them whilst she responded to me, closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were milky white; not the faded iris and pupil some of the blind display, but starkly white throughout.