Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Soothe 

The succubus watched Taylor through his reflection in the mirror, a peculiar sense of affinity bubbling within her, almost friendship.

It was ridiculous!

This receptacle... no, this human, was unlike any other she'd ever met, and its kindness, though tinged with understandable fear, was both surprising and childishly endearing.

The weight of his shifty gaze in the mirror on the marks (a few hickeys, a few bruises shaped like fingers, even a tiny bite on her thigh) that remained as a silent testament to the previous night, starkly reminded her of the gravity of their situation.

"I don't think I can hide them with bandages," Taylor said glumly, his eyes fixed on the splayed cleft between his breasts. "They're too big."

The succubus bridled and burrowed into his mind, and the bitterness in his words resonated like a bell. "You're overreacting a bit, Taylor. You're saying that like it's a bad thing," she joked darkly.

"It's not funny," he replied, his voice tight.

She stuck her tongue out at his reflection, teasing him for his rudeness. The succubus had fully exploited his genetics, and Taylor's figure was perfectly proportioned, harmonious, and tasteful. Very much in the style of the fabulous polychromatic Greek and Roman sculptures and the whitish Renaissance rehashes... The Romans sure knew how to throw parties and orgies!

"You're just looking at yourself in the mirror all wrong," the succubus opined, causing Taylor to frown thoughtfully.

She could clearly see how the boy's vision magnified every detail to an extreme degree, as his mind struggled to reconcile that smaller body and sensitive skin with his previous male anatomy. The dissonance between his old memories and reality had the same effect as if the mirror had warped like one of those stalls at a fair.

Taylor contemplated himself again in front of the closet, but this time without letting shame or self-loathing overcome him. He rolled onto his side and smoothed the folds of the loose Hawaiian shirt around his waist, analyzing the contours of his breasts with a more impartial and judicious eye. Meanwhile, the succubus waited expectantly for the repercussions. Taylor's response to each new dilemma and misstep was fascinating, and this time she was not disappointed with the outcome.

"Excellent," she thought, knowing full well that he wouldn't hear it.

A smile unconsciously appeared on the college student's cherry-colored lips when he realized that his breasts were not the XXL melons he saw in his exalted imagination.

They were more like a modest B-cup, maybe C-cup, which was quite a relief, and the succubus watched as his shoulders relaxed.

"You're not so bad," Taylor murmured to himself, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

The succubus felt a warmth in his chest that she hadn't anticipated. "You're not so bad either," she whispered, her voice so faint that he couldn't hear it, but she knew he could feel it.

Taylor's eyes narrowed as he contemplated his reflection. "Guess I'll just have to get used to all this," he murmured, his fingertips grazing the soft skin of his neck, feeling the delicate pulse of his new body.

The succubus felt a strange sense of pride swell within her, seeing the acceptance slowly take root in Taylor's mind.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she murmured in his thoughts, the echo of her voice a gentle whisper. "We still have to figure out how to get you back to your normal self."

Taylor nodded, his eyes still lingering on the unfamiliar curves. When he looked away, he noticed the tiny wound on his index finger, the cut made by the ritual mirror when it fractured.

Although the succubus couldn't hear a single one of his thoughts, just as he heard her voice, she thought she could hear the murmur of his mind insistently processing something that was worrying him.

"I think I know why you're still here with me," Taylor ventured, a nervous grimace on her lips. "I broke the mirror when I touched it and..."

"No," she interrupted immediately. "You didn't do anything wrong, Taylor."

He looked at her in the mirror, his eyes searching for a hint of a lie in her gaze.

The succubus gave a short sigh, once again surprised by the boy's resilience. Not only did he have a completely skeptical mind, a blank slate ready to be filled, but he was trying to make sense of what was completely meaningless.

"The mirror breaking was just another part of that ritual, not a mistake," the succubus assured him, her voice a soothing balm in his tumultuous thoughts. "Everything in the ritual had a symbolism, a mirror that normally reflects reality, tarnished black with soot and turned opaque, is a path between our worlds when it loses its original purpose. And that path HAD TO break after I crossed it; it's dangerous for it to remain open for even a second longer."

Taylor nodded slowly, hesitantly, as her mind struggled to piece together her new reality. "Why is it dangerous?" he asked, his voice quivering.

The succubus didn't want to scare him too much, because she didn't know if he would eventually reach his breaking point and collapse emotionally. She had been vigilant, very cautiously, and had already given him two scares. First, the painkiller pills, and second, his impromptu psychiatric haircut.

"Something else could have crossed my path," she explained in a subdued, academic tone, without hesitation. "That something other than me wouldn't be under the control of the ritual."

Taylor felt his stomach drop at the thought. "What do you mean?"

The succubus shrugged her shoulders, her eyes never leaving his in the mirror. "The kind of things that would make the Brothers of Sigma Kappa Beta wet their pants in terror," she said, her voice a playful whisper that seemed to dance around the edges of his consciousness. "Think of me as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man of my dimension."

Taylor couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the analogy, the banal attempt to lighten the situation. "So what went wrong with the ritual?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Nothing, really," the succubus said with a wry smile. "If something had gone wrong with the ritual or if it had been done incorrectly, there would be no painkillers or medicines that could relieve you. You'd vomit like a fire hose and climb the walls. That part about the movies is pretty accurate."

Taylor took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "So what else?" he muttered.

"Well, some 'bad way' possessed people get Tourette's Syndrome in some weird language, swearing and cursing in Aramaic, Ancient Greek, or Klingon, for that matter." The succubus rolled her eyes perkily and giggled. "Others, on the other hand, suffer from hallucinations..."

"Said the woman on the other side of the mirror to the possessed lunatic who has tits," Taylor interrupted abruptly, leaving her hanging. And then, with a shrug from him, he dismissed the idea.

The succubus wrinkles her lips in a grimace of disgust and embarrassment "Touché"

Her humor, however, didn't mask the seriousness of the situation. Taylor's mind was a swirling vortex of confusion, fear, and a strange, burgeoning curiosity. He knew he had to get a grip on things, to find a way to revert back to his human form before the situation spiraled out of control. But every time he thought of the fraternity and the ritual, his thoughts were a confusing whirlwind of images, interspersed again and again with the satisfied smiles of Brad and the other fraternity brothers.

The succubus couldn't see anything clearly in his memories that he was repressing with all his might.

"Tell me everything you know about the ritual," Taylor demanded, unexpectedly surprising her, his voice firm despite the tremor of fear that rippled through his body.

"Taylor..." the succubus began, shaking her head at the terrible idea.

"I want to know why what happened happened," he pleaded with her through a whimper of his vocal cords.

The succubus sighed, a gust of warm air that seemed to envelop Taylor's consciousness. "Alright," she began, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and resignation. "But remember, I'm no expert on the matter; what little I know is from conjecture I've made over the centuries. I'm just... a summoned entity, not the one who summons it."

The succubus bit her tongue, thinking that what Taylor was asking her was like asking a cake how to work the oven.

To be continued… 

Constructive comments, bookmarks, opinions, kudos, and observed typos are always welcome.