1 - Eat Cute

“Come on, wake up, cutie.”

A sex dream, one of those clinging, persistent dreams that still hangs off you in tattered shreds no matter how hard you slam awake (and for that voice, I am assuredly slamming awake at full scramble-power-on), lurid and intense details all evaporating as I open my eyes, but the mood of it a deafening echo in my...head. Without this, I might startle more to open my eyes on this anime devil girl straddling me, looking at me with this sort of desperate, hungry smile and reaching out to touch my face.


The dream leaves impressions, concepts, standing out unintrepretable and in the present company unimportant: Eden. Gate. Road--

Holy fuck, it really is you. Holy fuck but I have missed that face.

Holy fuck WOO I did it I pulled if off!


Okay, fine, really I wake up to the most amazing breasts right at eye level, huge and roundly perfect and straining to spill out of the scanty satin-and-straps bikini top that only dubiously contains them. This is a bit unexpected, but there are worse ways to wake up and by the time I’m awake enough to feel that odd starkness of reality that tells one they’re not dreaming I’ve had the time to groggily check out the girl they’re attached to quite thoroughly: unlikely proportions with curves to match her unreasonable breasts, ram’s horns (sort of, they’re square in cross-section and they grow the wrong way, points at the front, convex side of the curve on top instead of bottom, and are mirror-gleaming smooth silver instead of gnarled horn-stuff), black bat wings sprouting from her shoulder-blades that somehow manage to be cute instead of unsettling like actual bats, and a long barbed devil tail that’s whipping around madly like a cat about to pounce. Long metallic-silver hair, held back from complete unruliness by being tied two long ponytails that leave long bangs free to fall just short of her eyes, spills over her shoulders in a windblown mess framing a soft, heart-shaped face dominated by lusty purple eyes with massive, improbable lashes, and pale, full, kissable lips.

Her hair shines with almost painfully-bright gleams of moonlight that weirdly seems to be coming from her even though she doesn't appear to be glowing, so bright the room is almost daylit but with the light of dreams and romance rather than the tawdry incandescent mundanity of my bedside lamp.

I should be freaking out, or reacting somehow at least, but I’m groggy and horny and lust and strangeness keep kicking the ground out from under each other as I go from taking in the way the thin silver of her top outlines her nipples to being drawn by the motion of her tail that settles from lashing to loop itself into a heart shape displayed beside her hip to tracing the deep curves of her waist and pleasantly round navel with its perfect little belly button to noticing that she’s not just pale and desaturated but actually grey, her skin a pale and nearly paper-white color with no tint of pink the way an albino human would have, speckled unevenly with freckles that shine reflective pale to purply-black in the strange light. Tiny flecks of this on her cheeks give an impression of glitter under her eyes.

She’s holding out a hand and saying something, but all I’m processing is her voice, which is high and breathy and melodic and cooingly sexual in reflection of the look on her face.

She says something, again, and I miss it, again, floating on a sea of sleep and lust and gray-skinned monster girl and that amazing voice...

“Kiss me? You know you want to.”

It gets through, this time.

YES, CLUMSY, I KNOW. YES, SUPERSTITION, I KNOW. SHUT UP. I’m not gonna risk seven years of bad sex just because I didn’t bother to tell my human they knew they wanted to, but you try working it in smoothly when you’re choking to death on miasma and wondering if the human you’ve been looking for most of your life is going to even give you the time of day. I HAD SOME THINGS ON MY MIND, OKAY?

I should jump away, or yell, or try one of those off-the-cuff exorcisms my Pentecostal friends are so into, but I don’t. It’d be hard for her to be more anviliciously demonic and yet, somehow, that idea isn’t sitting right...no. This is a demon, no question, there’s a strange supernatural frisson to her presence that tells me I’m not just experiencing the best alien abduction ever, but this isn’t a demon attack.

You look so. Tasty. Please c’mon please...

It’s in her eyes. This creature...doesn’t mean me harm. Before now I’ve not even been sure I really believe in all the stuff people say they read in each others’ eyes, but her eyes are huge, and expressive, heavily rimmed with black where a human would have that brighter pink, and the proportion and epic lashes and contrast against her pale skin makes them shout, makes them naked, even in the dark. They’re feral, and hungry, and lustful, but there’s no malice, no calculation, just...hope? Pleading? There’s something in her need that just drills through me. It says, “I need you”. It says, “You’re beautiful”. It says, “Please love me”. It’s heartbreaking and beautiful and makes me think that if she does eat me it won’t be on purpose.

Your eyes, so blue, so grey, so pretty, so much deeper seeing them for real instead of reflected in your monitor, like I could sit here trying to figure you out until the Sea dries up, it’s enough to make me forget how much I need this kiss.


And your hair’s so blonde! I thought it’d be like mine but less metal. That stupid haircut even kind of looks good all messed up like that, like a lion’s mane or something. Weird to realize I’ve never seen you in proper color before, I never realized how much that monitor didn’t reflect. Why’d you have to hate mirrors and selfies so bad?

And those lips, all big and kissable, I am going to eat those lips right up...

And she’s familiar, like an old friend I haven’t seen in years, if only I could place her...

Sade's balls so hungry please come ON.


Self-preservation’s dubious for me lately on a good day, and then, well, this should be a pretty good way to die, and was pretty much the only thing I still wanted to do before I went out anyway. I take her hand and pull her in for the kiss.

Her hand is warm and her lips on mine are...electrifying, a kiss that detonates like a lightning strike. She leads with tongue, seeking with this desperation like she’s trying to drink me and indeed it does feel like she’s tapped into some well in the depths of my soul and is drawing something out...oh. What was I expecting her to be? But it’s not...right. Not wrong in the correct way. It should feel like dying, but somehow the well is inexhaustible, as if she’s such an amazing kisser (and she is absolutely amazing) that it fills me with lust faster than she can suck it out of me. She tastes incredible, sweetness and a musk I can only call just ‘sex’ and some flower I don’t know the name of. It’s exhilarating, and when she’s done I feel stronger, not drained.

Unnfff omigod yum why did I wear clothes for this outing? Guess I’m learning some kinda lesson about vanity or something...

How long does a kiss last? It feels like eternity and no time at all, but eventually - a very long eventually indeed - I have to breathe and when I pull away she’s looking somehow more clear, and licks her lips with a little black tongue. This close I notice she’s got the sparkliest glitter makeup I’ve ever seen on her cheeks.

Something glints at her throat, swinging: a necklace of thin black leather with a small silver heart-shaped pendant, empty in the middle so that it’s just the outline, except that at the point the inside edge curves smoothly, making a shape that recalls the swooping triangle her bikini bottom forms hugging her mound...

Omigod. I did it and I found you and now real live heart-to-heart nectar-to-nectar sex with you fine it’s just a kiss and maybe that doesn’t seem like much but that’s still sex and fucking yum.

"Oh my fuck this was worth it."

"There's something in your eyes. Can I kiss it better?"

Sure: if you’re going to fail a WIS check, fail it all the way--AfTeR All I'm aN aDuLt AnD I cAn mAkE mY oWn MiSTakEs nOw tHAt I'm nInEtEEn, I think dementedly. I nod, close my eyes, then feel her hand hot and soft on my cheek, and she kisses each of my closed eyes a bit wetly before planting a hard kiss on my forehead. As soon as the third kiss makes contact, there a wild jump in my chest like I’m an old TV and someone’s changed the channel to another one that’s broadcasting the same show except in color and I’m walloped by the most awful stench you can imagine, nasty like old socks and rotten meat but burning and inorganic like chlorine, and it’s somehow more than a smell, crawling at my skin and burning my eyes like it’s trying to get into my soul and sicken me from the inside out. I’ve had nightmares once or twice about being stuck in a room with a block of sub-critical plutonium, and this feels like the radiation in those dreams while it kills me.

I gag, but keep it down. “What the hell? What...”

"I licked the ashes out of your eyes. Can you see?"

I could see before--

"What's that smell?"

"Miasma. If you cast a circle you can get rid of it. Want me to show you how?"

When I live to regret this, I'll at least be able to say I lived. I nod.

She grabs my hand, and bounds backward off the bed, pulling me upright, to the general protest of my sleeping muscles.

Oh baby. Those old gym shorts actually exist? I totally thought they were just a fantasy! Man, even back home those’d be skimpy, and that’s if they weren’t splitting up the sides like that. I hope this is a sign of things to come.

So. Not bad. Kind of...lean, maybe even a little toned here and there. Erm. So. Tall. Neep. Mmm, you smell like...yum...fuck it haven’t cum in watches and watches resistance is for when you haven’t been without your favorite food for like a year I just have to...get my hand into...

Standing, she’s no less epic: more than a head shorter so that (as I catch myself thinking the thought) she could turn her head aside and nestle into the hollow of my chest perfectly, but her long legs place her hips only a few inches below my own, leaving her with a curvaceous, petite torso of hentai-cartoonish proportions. Seeing me look, she starts to carefully work her free hand under the front of her bikini bottom, then stops suddenly and withdraws it, looking stricken.

BLECH EW YUCK miasma in my cunt PFEH. Gods and slutshamers that tastes nasty, I guess that was sealed better than I thought. Amazing what’ll work for a mask when you’re horny.

Ech, it’s sharp, too. You’d almost think they...

Oh. Oooh spikes. You’re a preacher’s kid. Kinda not my favorite detail about you, kinda forgot that one when I let you summon me. Spikes and prickledick there’s probably a whole nest of perfekti right in the next...

“Need to run! Don’t listen to the whispering!”

Spikes spikes spikes come ON they’ve already noticed us, I can feel the shiver from here...

“What?” As if in answer to my question a coldness that has nothing to do with thermal energy rolls over me, over us to look at the succubus shiver along with me, a freakish coldness that seems to eschew skin entirely and drop straight to the bones, setting deep muscles shivering without raising goosebumps.

Ooogh that was a bad idea...so help me Sade, if I end up being the first succubus to ever die of not being able to keep my panties on I’ll...ugh...

I want to ask what the hell is making us cold, but I’m smart enough to grok: something unfriendly to humans that a demon is also afraid of. Red Alert and the mental image of the Enterprise's shields flickering into place thrum into my head as the toy Enterprise-D sitting on my dresser by the door catches my eye, vivid with the long practice of fanfiction I never dared write down, and with a sudden impulsive thought I find myself wishing I could instantiate the protection of raised shields out of those stories and into the real world, imagining the static-fuzz glimmer of their coming on line surrounding my room while the single siren-whoop plays in the background.

It’s the first time out of about seventy six bazillion I’ll wish you could just port humans out of limbo.

I can see it so clearly--


Without warning, the door hurls itself shut with a massive bang, and the stench dissipates greatly as the edge of the room glows like a TNG-style forcefield coming online. Like the smell, the forcefield isn't physical: the succubus kissed two physical eyes, and one spiritual, and I can see...what? Magic? The world of spirit?

"Yeah! This is his room!"

"What did you do?"

"Me? I thought you put it up."

Walk over to check this out...sniff sniff..."Yeah, this is yours, it smells just like you, and only you would cast a circle using forcefields from the Enterprise-D. You didn't intend it?"

I blink, and my brain glitches back to the scale of incredulity I can manage right now:

"You watch Star Trek?"

Flirt over my shoulder to you.

"Um, of course?"

Seriously though, your scent, your style, it's got to be you. Could you have panic-cast?

Walk over and push against it...hehe BOING!

Yeah, that'll stop anything. I almost hope those perfekti do try to get in.

From behind, she's no less epic, as is her bikini: it's mostly straps of silvery elastic but for the small panels that just barely cover her nipples and pussy in something shiny silver like foil that yet looks silky, like the blankets on Star Trek. The straps make pentagram designs between her legs and over her breasts, and only the inner pentagons (and, over her pussy, the downward-pointing point of the upside-down star between her legs) are filled in so that it has the less-awkward scaling of a normally-skimpy bikini while yet covering as little as possible. From behind, the bottoms of the bikini are filled in with completely see-through fabric, and bending over she combines the prominent, soft-looking pussy that bulges out of the gap between her thighs as she bends to inspect the forcefield shining with may-as-well-be-naked detail through perilously thin (and, over her pussy, just-barely-opaque) fabric, with a soft-looking curvaceous ass in keeping with her cuddly-hot proportions in front. Even from the front, the bikini bottoms show the exact shape of her pussy, they're so thin and so shiny and cling so tightly, and the top shows her nipples so clearly I can see a bit of their texture.

Okay need to be near you it's cold over here.

You're so warm....fuck it I can't stop myself snuggle.

A strange, soft moan floats in stereo around us as her body pours itself around mine. All she's doing is standing against me, but it feels like I'll come from it, my heart pounds like it can thunder up out of my mouth and I'm diverting every spare blood cell to my dick and there's no way she can't tell the way it's pressed between us but her only response is to lean into me and look up hopefully, lips parted.

Don't cry, self, he won't understand yet. Show your lust, it's not like you don't have any.

YUS KISS ME that's right...lean down yus come on...

Yes yes yes my face says I want you to take me I'm saying yes please this is as loud as I can emote...MMMF YUS KISS

Our second kiss is ever better than the first, and I almost do come as her body slides across mine, her nipples hard against my chest through her bikini-top, until finally I have to break the kiss or climax where her midriff embraces my dick.

Ohmifuck I needed that.

What're you thinking about?

Even as it drives me to the edge of orgasm in mere seconds (that is, even faster than I usually get there), the kiss and her continued cuddling clear my head, wiping away the haze of need that usually clouds my mind...no. It's more than that.

Ashes. She licked ashes out of my eyes, she said.

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return--

The words of the Ash Wednesday service float to mind and then cut off as I do the math: Ash Wednesday. Ashes on my forehead, where she kissed, she kissed my eyes she said, spiritual eye, almost all cultures outside the Christian world locate a spiritual third eye in the center of the forehead right where it's been tradition for hundreds of years to rub ashes if you're a Christian.

I want to look around the room with this new sense, but I can't bring myself to look away from the succubus. In the spiritual vision I can access now by tuning out my physical eyes the way I do to keep the patterns my optic nerve makes out of neural noise in the darkness from keeping me awake at night, she...is even more beautiful than physically. It's like she becomes transparent, a being of wishes and moonlight illuminated by a glow from my own form I guess to be the energy on which she feeds coming from me. Enraptured, I pull her even closer, and she nestles happily into my arms, smiling.

Hug you back hhhhhHUG...

Her breasts splay softly around me like they're hugging just as much as her arms, making her top go perilously slack. She doesn't let go until I slacken my grip, then steps back to peer up at me more easily.

"You are so beautiful."

Fuck blush.

Subby whisper-voice.

"So are you." Ogle ogle.

She's obviously telling the truth the way her eyes slide over my form, but tangled emotions roil, and a no I'm not dies on my lips as I try to understand both her preferences and my feelings.

Ouch, is this the first time you've ever been told you're pretty?

Spike that. Ogle ogle ogle. See?

She doesn't stop looking, and my cheeks grow hot as the erection totally not hidden by my shorts pounds in response. I want to cover myself, but with my dick hard (and it's totally ignoring my commands to behave) my hands aren't big enough to make a difference unless I arrange them in a way that really wouldn't be better.

Okay I need to be grinding your cock now. See? Stare stare stare lick my lips.

Get my nipples hard come on just keep staring I need you to watch me get wet for you...YUS throb I knew looking at your cock would do it! Now look you in the eye HEHE you're blushing so hard!

Her blazing-purple irises have become fine violet lines around huge pupils when she looks up, deep and hungry as the blackness between the stars. I try not to stare, but the bikini is thinner than paint and I can see her nipples standing out through it clearly.

Do you feel better?

I'm paralyzed, jammed between the desire to just jump her and tear away both the bikini and every sexual moral I thought I had. Unthinkingly, I start to backpedal, and a tightness in my chest brings me up short as we separate.

God has never spoken to me, but I've felt, sometimes, something I've taken for the Holy Spirit's nudging. Most chiefly, warning with a death-scented sense of wrongness about my porn habit, or a kind sense of rightness in doing what I ought when it's hard or ambiguous. Now, it's screaming, manifesting beyond a vague spiritual sense of direction into what feels like the clenching of muscles in places that have none, writhing like someone shaking me to get my attention. What, I reflexively think, and like a shove to my soul it thrusts my attention towards the succubus as if it could physically push me towards her.

I'm simultaneously overwhelmed by a memory-impression of Ransom's encounter with the ant-person in Perelandra, and the way he assumed its hostility from its appearance until the demon's spell was broken and he saw it as itself, mere passerby of an alien species. From this I leap of my own accord to the epilogue of That Hideous Strength where Lewis claims the whole account to be factual, and in so doing understand the message: The true spiritual world is stranger and more wonderful than the teachings of your church. Do not let this rob you of hope. Look to the goodness before you. Her love is true. As soon as this flashes through my mind in concepts more than words, I see a mental image of a cup of hot chocolate and am recalling the beginning of A Wrinkle In Time where Meg and Charles Wallace are having hot chocolate in the middle of the night on the verge of their leaving with Mrs. Which.

How many thousand billion times did I wish for something like that to happen to me? From Madeline L'Engle my mind bounces to the story I have been writing about a girl coming from another world to teleport suddenly into my bed and whisk me off to a destiny of adventure and...her...

...oh. OH. How?

"You're my picture-girl!"

Hidden between the cardboard liner and glossy outside of a software box seemingly forgotten under my bed is a drawing I've been painstaking crafting of a girl who seems to haunt my dreams. I was shocked once I understood the principles of layering curved outlines over a sketch of geometric primitive approximating a body how easily the skill came to me, but I've nearly worn through the paper erasing and redrawing it, trying to capture the face that now beams up at me.

"Uhuh! And the one you pick on the bridge of your spaceship when the planet you saved rewards you and your new wife you're telling your rules to and your friend playing naked hide and seek in the wheat field and the girl you're writing about coming to get you from the world you're actually from because she totally fucking needs you and the blue bikini girl and the girl from the Dragon Knight III ad--"

"How long have you been possessing me? Is this how you date?"

Nod nod nod!

Like, close enough, and I can't go through explaining all of everything right now. Soon. You get the point.

Two things are amazing about this: one, that my response to her litany of fantasies she's been in on is a lump that grows as hard in my throat as the one pounding between my legs, and two, just how much of a leg my idea that BDSM is something I might maybe someday explore with a very understanding and open-minded wife if we could work out the vague moral issues I've always just assumed to exist but which I can't now seem to identify, doesn't have to stand on.

"Really it's more like you possessing me? I don't get a lot of choice what you imagine if I want to play along."

I burst out laughing, then master my words before she can wonder if I'm laughing at her.

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and my stomach churns with nerves. The question is there, burning, insistent. I cannot ask, I must ask--

False starts click humiliatingly in my throat as she looks at me patiently, expectantly, but I can't make it a question when I need it to be an inevitability.

"Let's go. That's why you're here, right?"


I'm nearly bowled off my feet by her shockingly-light body wrapping itself around me with all four limbs as a with leathery flap she leaps at me to cling tightly, nodding furiously against my shoulder.

Snif...you said yes!! You said yes without me even asking!!!!

"Are you crying?"

Nod nod nod.

"I was so scared you wouldn't come! I...don't know what I would've done then! Thank you thankyouthankyouthankyou you won't regret it I promise I promise you'll like me and I'll be good just tell me where you want to go and I'll find a way wherever you want to go I'll figure it out--" rrgh what title am I supposed to call you I can't just pick one! "--I don't care where as long as it's with you."

This is such a relief I'm so glad.

I stroke her hair, comforting.

"Shh, or we'll wake up my family."

"It's okay. The circle you cast is really absolute. There's no way they'll hear us."

"Good. We won't need it for long, though. I want to see where you're from. Is it safe for humans?"


Nod nod nod!

"It's safe and awesome. I'm ready to go just put me down when you're ready and I'll tell you about getting there."

I let her embrace linger a moment longer, enjoying it too much to let go right away, then give her a squeeze.


Climb down off you ooh no slllliiiiide down your body hehe yum ooh that almost took off my top how great would that have been.

Hard cock snuggle against it until you tell me not to.


Fix cleavage squish breasts up come on I want a snack mmmh Gaze okay.

"I like it when you ogle me..."

"Me too."

The words are out of my mouth before I can consider them, but they...fit.

"Okay so to reach the Deep Haven where I'm from, we need to get into Limbo. I might be able to open a door that leads right to the Deep Haven if you help me, but that doesn't usually work coming from Earth. I brought you this in case that happens--" Hold up your toybag "--so you can make a weapon to protect us from perfekti if we end up in Limbo. I can show you how. I'm sorry I didn't already prepare it before I came but you're the only person I want to do magic with. It's fun though, or the magic doesn't work?" Grin?

What she's holding up is--apparently--a sheathed sword, black and silver in a matching aesthetic to the rest of the succubus' vaguely BDSM-ish style.

"Hell yes magic sword. What do we need to do?"

I'm burningly curious to find out if there's any significance to her only wanting to do magic with me, but something in me knows...there will be time for that.

ARGH  DAMMIT. How do I get you to top without--right, dom rescue. Picture my notes...no, no, there. Okay. Umm...DAMMIT! Seriously? They have something clever for everything else!

Fine. Yes I know negotiation is sexy I just don't want to drive it!

"Can we negotiate our power relationship first? I'm not getting what I need."

There. I guess that's not so bad.

Please, please don't be a harem protagonist about this.

Ah, the moment I've been waiting for. Hopefully she'll be a kind mistress.

"What do you need?"

"I'm really submissive, and need you to take control more. Can you just like, tell me what to do? Please?"

It's like waking up all over again.

"Hell yes."

The thrill that pours through me as her face lights up is like drinking from the heart of a star and having it settle in my cock, which stiffens thuddingly between us as she wiggles with excitement.

"How far does this go?"

"As far as you tell me it does."

"What if I told you to take off your bikini?"

"I'd do it but first I'd tell you I have an idea how we can use your first time seeing me naked in the scene to make your sword and ask if you wanted to wait for that and if there's something I could do to please you instead since I didn't follow your order right away and I'd also apologize for that and hope you weren't mad because I was trying to help."

"Of course I wouldn't be mad. What if I told you to kiss me? Or have sex with me?"

"I'd do it and be super wet. I don't really get off unless I'm following orders or just being taken....actually I really like to struggle and I might forget to be willing if you don't order me to let you do whatever so please just take me unless you think it's harming me somehow. I'm not wired like a human so you can always tell if I'm into what you're doing to me by how wet my cunt is."

Is that a lie? No, I wouldn't have been able to say it if it was. I'm never dry and I'll be into anything that makes you happy, so it's true!

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."

YUS! I knew you were in there!!

"How do you feel about stuff like kneeling and calling me Sir?"

"I'll do it if it'll make you happy. That's what I care about. I want to tell you my idea first, though."

"What about you being happy?"

"This is what makes me happy."

I'd argue if it wasn't written all over her face in letters of fire a megaparsec tall...and, it makes sense: if you're powered by someone's sexual pleasure, of course you'd evolve to be all about pleasing them.

"Alright, then from here on out you do as I say. Starting with telling me your idea that's currently the only thing keeping your clothes on."

Hehe YUS! I want to show you my body for real so bad...right, idea.

My cock is throbbing hard between us, but I keep it--and the rest of me--where it is, because I'm afraid I'll come if I move.

"We do a scene where you summon and claim me--like, intentionally, I know I'm already here--and then we can use the emotional energy from the scene to help you consecrate that--" Nod towards the sheath "--to the purpose of keeping us safe and me being yours. I can show you how to do a ritual version of the scene, like what emonarrative points it probably should go through, but we really should go by what will make you feel the most intensely. Then we can try sneaking through your house without perfekti noticing us and if they do we can drive them off or fight them."

There's no hiding the leap in my heart at her mention of claiming. I should be enquiring if she really wants to do that, but it's like I'm physically incapable of asking the question. Somehow, I know it'll be alright. The truth is that literally all of my sexual fantasies, the real ones rather than the ones I dutifully have to give myself plausible deniability against the centrality of this wish, are scenarios like this.

"So like, magic is powered by emotions?"

This is the kind of magic a creature like her would specialize in.

"Consciousness is powered by emotion, and dreamwork--not magick, that's working with something other than you and it's really dangerous depending on what you're trying to work with, and it's super intimate the way I do it which is why I only want to do it with you--is powered by consciousness."

"I knew emotionless strong AI didn't make sense!"

"Right? Data is still the best TNG character though."

At her totally correct lapse into fandom, the odd thought that I always wanted a sword drifts through my head. I found out once you can commission someone to forge you an authentic Ulfbehrt down to the steel made in an eleventh-century smelter for only $9000. I kind of have this promise to myself that when I’m a rich and famous game developer, I’m going to get one and hang it over the bigass stone fireplace I’m going to have and tell people about how it’s a replica of what my viking ancestors used to terrorize everyone ever for centuries.

Then, the reason for the sword, the monsters that must be terrorizing my family outside my miraculous forcefield.

“One of those things is eating my family right now, huh.” It’s utterly flat, something I say because I think I should.

“It’s been chewing on them for years, by the smell before. I'm sorry.”

"I've never smelled that before tonight."

"Usually all they can do is mess with people's heads, but I guess I must have manifested super hard--like, Earth's laws of physics don't allow me, so if you can touch me it means they're broken for a while in your room which means they'll probably be broken for the perfekti, too, and that's why we smelled them."

She waits, expectant, when she finishes speaking--oh.

"Tell me your idea now."

Why does making it a command instead of a question feel like kissing her?

"So two of the narrative beats I think you'll want for your claiming scene are you claiming me and me consenting to it by agreeing to be yours, and showing us you really meant it by making me do something while I struggle against it until you've just forced me. I was thinking I could like, fight you to keep my bikini for the second one, and for the first one I could show I'm consenting to be claimed by starting to call you like Sir or Master or Owner or whatever. I really want to get naked for you and I want you to give me a respect-title to call you even more but I thought you might want to save doing it for that because it'll make the scene so fun and powerful."

....and make you so hard and me so wet but obviously that too.

That's me convinced, then. How does the idea of owning her feel so natural? Even if we are just doing it to...is that even what's going on? She looks, above all else, sincere.

"I need to understand this consecration thing better. What exactly are we trying to do?"

"We're establishing our relationship how you want it to be, and using the way that'll make you feel as fuel for a really powerful us-defense consecration. I need to be owned like now, and you're super possessive, so it should be like, unstoppable if we harness your domspace after claiming me for real."

Fuck, listen to me dripping all over the floor. I really need this.

Please don't be scared off, please be able to commit...

"Amazing. Alright, let's do this. I'm going to step back and sit on the bed because my feet are getting tired and I'm ordering you to stand perfectly still because if you don't I'll probably, um, come."

There's going to be no way to hide my erection in my really-just-a-formality gym shorts, but it's not like she doesn't know it's there.

Not moving not moving not moving don't grind self gah fuck I can feel you all tense...

"If you come, may I please drink it? I can catch if you want to save penetration for claiming me or something."

I take a slow, deep breath, and find by the pain of it that I'm biting my lip.

"Yes. Shh."

Slowly, gingerly, I separate from her motionless form, and make my way to the bed, sitting carefully so the tension of my shorts doesn't push me over the edge.

Unnfff tentpole wow. If just turn a little I'll be able to see your shaft...aww.

Alright you're definitely going to be horny enough for this.

A few deep breaths and I can focus enough to see her still standing there a little awkwardly.

"There is so much I want to ask you. Come s--are your feet tired?"

Shake shake.

"Then stay standing there where I can see you."

Blushy grin.

"Once we get me charged up with possesive feelings, how do I channel them into that?"

I gesture to the sword.

Gah why is just standing so you can ogle me intense?

I mean the Gaze is fucking scrumptious but oof.

"Well, you can either take it or I can like, present it to you and buckle it on you or something. Am I giving you a present to celebrate being claimed, or are you taking what's yours?"

"Is that up to me?"

"I want everything to be up to you."

I swallow, struggling with the too-good-to-be-true-too-good-to-be-false battle inside me.

"Hypothetically say I'm taking what's mine."

"Then you'd either just pick it up, or tell me to give it to you or serve you by buckling the sheath onto you if you want a little extra subbing from me."

"Then it's like, consecration is making something holy to a purpose, changing what it is into something from a story you're using it in. That's actually something Christian ritual does pretty well with the bread and wine god-vore thing. This is why I said it's not magic, before, though, because I can't tell you what'll mean the most to you, and that's what matters. So just like with the Christian ritual you need to run through some actions that mean to you you're putting your desire to own me and keep me into that, like, turning it into a physical version of the feelings inside you. What's not like Christian ritual, or magic, is because this is all about you what matters is what you're doing means to you and I keep saying that because all the lost-planet stuff I've read says everyone on them is super-brainwashed to think their dreams don't do anything but they do or I'd have nothing to feed on and you're definitely feeding me right now unf."

There, that made an impression.

"Can you give me ideas? You know me, apparently."

"You fantasized about telling me your rules a lot, so I bet doing some of that once you get me naked if we're doing that would make you feel powerful. You could even take away my bikini like for good so it's like the new wife fantasy. You could make me kiss it, and hold it up for you all worshipfully while you draw it. Or once I'm claimed you could do something humiliating like make me bring it to you crawling with it in my teeth?"


"Do you actually like that idea?"


Bite my lip.

"I see. Keep going."

"It might also help if you make me hold it for you while you use me somehow, and decide it's soaking up your power trip the way I'm soaking up your lust."

"I can decide that?"

Nod nod!

"It's your dreamwork, you make up the rules."

"So you keep saying. Keep going."

"Ooh, or you could like draw it, and then blow your passion onto it like breathing fire! How fucking metal would that be?"

"Awesome. More if you have them."

"Do you want me to make up more?"

"That's okay. I think I have an idea."

Hell yes just tell me what to do.