Becoming a Succubus
Authors Note: This story contains sexually explicit material involving minors.
Chapter 1: The Book
My sixteenth birthday just passed, putting another slightly disappointing party behind me. My junior year of high school is coming up in a few weeks, yet I still only have two friends. Many of the other more popular girls already have boyfriends because they were gifted with developed, curvy bodies. As for me, I managed to grow to five feet and three inches, with an almost flat chest, no hips, and no butt. I'm dreading going back to school, knowing the same jokes are waiting for me; jokes about having no figure, or being a board, a stick, or any other flat objects that came to mind. I tried doing my hair, makeup, wearing nice clothes, skimpy clothes, but none of it mattered.
With the money I received for my birthday, I decided to take a trip to one of my favorite shops. It specializes in occult items, but I mostly just collect things for display because I like them. As usual, I take my time browsing, feeling more at home here than anywhere else. I walk up one aisle, then down the next, my eyes seeking and my hands touching. Though only one section has books, it sets the atmosphere for the entire shop with its smell. Beside me, a book falls from its place, hitting the ground with a thud. I quickly pick it up and shove it back in place. At the end of the section, I turn and come around to the next side. I've never actually bought a book, though I browse them every time. Most of them have to do with magic and spells, which I've never had any interest in.
I hear a thud on the opposite side, and I find another fallen book—this time, I pause to look at it, recalling the same art pattern on the front. Again, I place the book on the shelf and continue from where I left off. I make it to the end, where they have a selection of cute socks, and as usual, I pick up a couple. On the way back, I catch a glimpse of a book on the floor, so I stop and turn. I notice it's the same book as before, making me look around for someone pulling a prank on me. The shop is quiet as always, empty, with just me and the person at the counter. Once more, I take the book up, and I read the title.
"Evocations," I say softly.
I open the cover to read the summary just inside. It explains that the book contents are all about summoning spirits, which can be used for various purposes. It goes on to list some scenarios that one might hope to get assistance with. I take the book, the socks, and a few other items to the front and pay for them.
At home, my two older brothers tease me about being at the shop for so long. Howard is a year older than me, and Alex is two years older. Alex starts first, as always, then Howard chimes in to follow his lead.
"Have fun at your emo shop, Sophie?" Alex says in a teasing tone.
"I bet you probably have a room and bed down there," Howard says after.
"Whatever," I say, walking past them.
I sort through the items I purchased in my room and put the book away for now since I don't feel up to reading. After a hot shower, I dress in my lazy clothes, consisting of sweat pants and a large t-shirt. I slide my feet into a pair of the new socks I just got, then head downstairs for dinner.
Dinner time is a mandatory family function, so we all assemble in the dining room to eat. Mom and dad, and my brothers all happily share the highlights of their day, and I give my standard input of, "it was fine." Their attempts to pry more information from me died long ago, and now they just accept my unwillingness to share on most days.
Once we're excused from the table, I head back to my room, like a squirrel retreating with its newly found snack. The remainder of my evening is spent with a pencil to paper, sketching things like shoes, clothes, and other inanimate objects. I have dozens of sketchbooks filled with my drawings. I enjoy taking small things, like a penny, and drawing it in full detail. Most people don't take the time to notice such small features. I do this for several hours until I feel sleep starting to overtake me, then I put my book to the side and lie down.
An abrupt thump wakes me from sleep, and I try to look around with fatigued eyes to see what made the sound. I use my phone's flashlight to look beside my bed, then move the light across the floor. I see a book just below a shelf, with its pages open. With the mystery solved, I turn over and close my eyes again, hoping to drift back to sleep. A thought enters my mind, reminding me of the book that kept falling in the shop. It piques my curiosity enough that I get out of bed to check. I pick it up by one end and look at the cover, confirming my suspicion. Now that I'm awake, I sit back in bed and begin to read the open page.
"A spirit of good fortune. This evocation will call a spirit to you that will lend guidance and wisdom to your everyday life. Once properly invoked, you'll find that the decisions you make will lead to better outcomes." I continue to read where it explains the differences in the spell, depending on the situation you're trying to solve. There's a version for money trouble, relationship trouble, work trouble, speech, learning, and even social issues. I'm surprised that many of the items needed for these are things I already own and are just sitting around on display.
I follow the instructions in the book until I have almost everything placed on the floor. I substitute one item and find that I'm missing another for this particular spell. If successful, this spirit is supposed to bring good fortune with social issues, and I imagine what it would be like to make more friends or be popular. The floor in my room is covered in occult objects now, laid out in the manner described in the book. I double-check my work, then begin to recite the incantation.
My words break the room's silence as I picture myself akin to a witch seen in movies. I expect to feel something, though; I'm not sure what. Should there be a sudden chill, or should I feel a presence? I don’t notice a difference when I finish speaking, so I look through the book for more information. While reading, I start to feel sleepy again and chalk up the failure to the missing items.
At breakfast in the morning, I find my plan to get the other items delayed due to my parents taking us to visit relatives for the weekend. I make my disappointment known by maintaining a sour look on my face throughout breakfast. Of course, no one acknowledges my visual-based protest, not that I expected them to.
I get my luggage out, then set aside the clothes I’ll be wearing for the trip before taking a shower. Since I’ll be away from home for two nights, I need to give my hair a thorough washing. I set the water, then step into the tub, moving back into the stream. The water contacts the back of my legs first and moves higher until I feel a sting behind my left shoulder. I clasp my right hand over the shoulder and pull to see a series of short, thin scratch marks about an inch down.
I apply ointment to the scratches after the shower, then dress before packing again. Soon, we’re all in the car and on our way for the two-hour trip. Because I’m the shortest, I end up stuck in the middle as usual, so I put on my earbuds and plan to mentally isolate myself until we arrive. My brothers attempt to be annoying as possible at times, though I just keep my eyes on the phone and ignore them.
When we finally arrive, I prepare for the harrowing social interactions ahead. First, there’s my aunt and uncle, followed by three cousins, who are all males. In fact, I’m the only female in the family in my age group. The next closest is an aunt on my dad’s side of the family who’s ten years older than me. The greetings and catching up feel like it takes forever before we’re able to set up in the guest rooms. We live in a rather large house, but this house is even bigger.
My aunt and uncle have their bedroom in the attic, and my parents use the basement, which is also converted into a room. Out of the other three rooms, I’m allowed to have my own because I’m a girl, and my youngest cousin has to sleep in the living room. My brothers each share a room with our other two cousins. I stay in the bedroom until dinner time, then join the rest of the family to fulfill my obligation. My dad and uncle cook on the grill, so the event takes place outside, which means I’m not forced to sit with the group for dinner. I enjoy the food and talk to my cousins, who tend to be nicer to me than my brothers.
After all the food and talking, I head back to the room and watch videos on my phone. Eventually, my mom calls me down to sit with her and my aunt while all the guys get into other things. They show me an old photo album filled with pictures going back decades. Because my mom likes to spill my business, my aunt assures me that all the girls in the family bloom late. She provides supporting evidence by showing different photos of family members around my age, then as they got older. Considering my mom is well-endowed, it isn’t something that I was worried about in the future, but rather in the present.
I agree to get up early to help them make breakfast, even though I don’t understand why we have to do all the cooking for the guys. My mom and aunt are old-fashioned, so they still believe in being housewives, and I suppose that isn’t bad. I’m not sure if that’s something I want to do when I’m older or even married. Once they have my commitment, I’m allowed to head back to the room.
I don’t wake up until the sun comes through the window, which means I must have slept very well. The blanket is pushed to one side, and I notice my top is pulled down all the way to my waist, leaving my chest bare. “Perverts,” I say as I sigh and shake my head, knowing the guys did it. I don’t understand why they’d want to see their sister and cousin naked. But, I guess to them, a naked girl is a naked girl, even though I don’t have much to look at.
I get dressed, then head downstairs to help with breakfast. When we sit down to eat, I look at my brothers and cousins, wondering which one of them decided to peep at me last night or if it was all of them. I know there’s no point in bringing it up because they would just deny it.
My day is filled with traditional female duties; cooking, washing dishes and then learning to sew. I pay attention to sewing since it’s at least a skill that can be of value later on in life. Even after that, I’m told I have to enjoy time outside, so I end up watching the guys get into things. We end up at a park with a lake filled with ducks. The guys decide to antagonize them for fun, making the ducks swim back and forth to avoid them.
When more people start to come in, they take turns talking to girls and attempt to get their phone numbers. Once they’ve all taken a shot, the attention turns to me. I agree to speak to the guy jogging just so they’ll leave me alone. I wait for him to stop, then go over and introduce myself. I’m far enough that they can’t hear me, so I explain the situation, and the guy pretends to give me his number. We end up talking for several more minutes before he asks for my number for real.
I boast about my victory when I return to the group, only to be faced with the excuse that it’s easy for girls. I know there’s no point in arguing with a group of guys, so I digress, and we head back home. Like yesterday, I spend my mandatory time at dinner before isolating myself in the room afterward. My cousin Ryan comes in to use his computer for a while, but we don’t say much. He’s a few months older than me and taller too.
“Do you watch porn?” He asks suddenly.
“Um,” I say, surprised. “Not really, no. Why?”
“Just curious what girls think about it,” he says. “Anyway, do you think I can have the room for a while?”
“Uh, okay,” I say, getting the hint after a moment.
I get a few things from my bag and then head to the bathroom to shower. I take my time, assuming that Ryan is watching porn and jerking off. It reminds me that I’m sleeping in his bed and that he’s probably done it there too. The thought makes me a little queazy, so I force myself to think about something else. When I finish washing up, it’s hard to not think about it, knowing that I’m trying to give him time. Once I can’t take being in the shower any longer, I get out and slowly dry off.
I knock on the door of his room, then open it when there’s no answer, relieved that he’s finished. I’m then met with the sight of him sitting at his computer with a headset on. His angle doesn’t allow him to see me without turning his head, but I can see him holding a white cloth to his face. I move closer only to realize that he’s still doing it. I’m standing behind him and to the left, and I can barely make out the motion of his right hand moving up and down. His left hand flicks the cloth open, revealing it to be a pair of my panties. I’m shocked, grossed out, and worried all at once. As I step back to leave the room, he quickly brings my panties down and lets out a grunt.
I pull the door closed as quietly as possible before hurrying away outside. I sit on the front porch, scrolling through my phone in an attempt to erase the images from my mind. Ryan finds me around twenty minutes later to let me know the room is free. I can tell he has no idea that I saw him, so I don’t say anything. When I get back to the room, I look in my bag for the panties, but I don’t find them. I look around the room some, trying not to snoop too much until I finally find them under a layer of clothes in his hamper. As soon as I open them up, I can see his cum sticking to the inside. I’m not sure if I want to take them back or leave them. Taking them with me means taking his cum too, or means I have to wash them now, which is a nasty thought. Leaving them here means I’ll be letting him continue to jerk off with my panties, which is creepy.
For now, I put them back in the hamper and think about it while I lie in bed. Again, I wake up to find the morning sun in the window, which means I slept through the night. My top isn’t pulled down this time but wholly removed and lying on the floor beside the bed. Now that I caught Ryan with my panties, I assume he’s the one who did it. I decide to take my panties and go to retrieve them from the hamper only to find they’re no longer there. This time, my search yields no results, so I pack up, hoping that we’ll be heading home soon.
Around noon, we say our goodbyes and exchange hugs. Ryan hugs me firmly, his arms pulling until our bodies touch. I keep my earbuds on while watching videos on the drive home, though my mind keeps wandering back to Ryan. My disgust has slowly gone away, replaced by curiosity and maybe even some flattery. Did he do it because he thinks I’m attractive or simply because I’m a girl he had easy access to? I find myself thinking about it even as we make it back home. I’ve worked through the other emotions now, so it’s just a matter of curiosity at this point.
I bring my luggage from the car to my room quickly, in hopes of returning to the occult shop for the remaining items I need. Instead, my mom has me go with her to shop for groceries, which takes a couple hours. Since I’m not allowed to travel that far on my own after dark, I settle in for the night. I spend time on my phone researching panty sniffing, which seems to be a popular thing. Even so, I still don’t understand why anyone would like it.
My sleep leads to vivid dreams. I find myself back in my cousin’s room, standing in the same spot where he was sniffing my panties. This time I watch as he wraps them around his cock when he cums. He turns to me and tells me to put them on, but I shake my head. There’s no way I want to do something so icky. I turn to leave, hurrying toward the door, only to find it locked. As I turn around again, I notice I’m wearing the panties now.
I sit up quickly, waking suddenly from my sleep and the nightmare. My distress continues when I notice my blankets are pulled to the side, and I’m wearing nothing but panties. It’s a fact that my brothers were involved now, which makes me feel creeped out. A deep, warm sensation between my legs distracts me. I’m horny, but it’s ridiculous for me to be right now. Nothing about any of this is a turn-on, not my cousin, not my brothers, not being undressed in my sleep. I get up and remove my panties since they’re wet, very wet. Not only is my body aroused, but I’m wetter than I’ve ever been.
I touch my tingling clitoris; it’s swollen and sensitive. Masturbation is something I know of from school and from reading about it online, but I’ve never done it, not for real anyway. The most I’ve done is touch my clit and slide a finger in. No, I don’t want to start now either. I want my first time to be with someone I like, and I hope someone I love. I wrap a towel around my waist to keep from making a wet spot on the bed and go back to sleep, eventually.
In the morning, I’m wearing the same thing I initially went to bed in; my t-shirt and shorts. Maybe the entire thing was just a dream. Either way, I look for the panties around my room before heading down to breakfast. I’m quieter than usual as I think about my dream and finally getting back to the shop. The vivid images of being naked and my pussy dripping wet keep my mind occupied.
The fresh air as I walk outside helps take my mind off things. I think about school and how much better it will be should this incantation work. At the shop, I look over the list I made, then retrieve each item. I round the book section, stopping on the aisle where the one kept falling. Even now, I anticipate the sound of a book hitting the ground, but it doesn’t happen. After I finish browsing, I checkout, then head back home.
To my luck, both my parents and brothers are out of the house, so I have time to myself. I close the door in my room as I prepare the incantation again. Step by step, I put everything in place, trying to be as precise as possible. When the circle is complete, along with the sigil in the middle, I light each candle, then begin to recite the words upon lighting the last candle. It isn’t until I finish that I realize there’s one more step at the bottom of the page, which is for an offering.
“To evoke the spirit, you must provide an offering,” I read out loud. “The offering needed for this spell requires female essence. The essence is used to douse the candles upon reciting the incantation.” I squint my eyes at the page, trying to make sense of it. “Female essence?”
I sit on my bed and flip through the book looking for the meaning of female essence, and I find a section in the back that explains or defines words and phrases used in the book. Turning to the letter F, I place my finger on the page and begin to move through each term until I finally find it. “Female essence. The discharge produced by the female body when in a state of arousal. Depending on the woman, the actual essence can vary in texture, thickness, and amount.” I sigh, then yell in frustration, “seriously!”
The idea of having to do something like this gives me an intense mix of emotions, and none of them are good. Even if I wanted to do it, there’s no way I could put all the candles out. The idea of gathering it over time then creeps into my head, making it worse. I picture putting it in a jar or cup, then letting it sit in my room for however long it takes until I have enough. If not that, then trying to do it all at once. Even though it’s just a book, I feel like I’m being violated by it.
My mood is bad enough at dinner that my mom actually asks me what’s wrong. I obviously can’t share my failure of a spell with her, so I just say that it’s nothing much and that I’ll get over it. It’s my turn to wash dishes tonight, so I stay behind after dinner to clean up. I go from the kitchen sink to the tub and shower before joining the family in the living room for a movie. The summoning circle is still set up in my room, and I don’t want to think about it right now. It isn’t until I’m nearly falling asleep that I finally go to bed.
I awake in a dark room with my blankets totally removed from the bed. Again, my clothes are gone, except for my panties. Despite being so bare, I feel hot, and the heat rushes between my legs, which causes a throbbing sensation. I realize I’m having the same dream again, so I take off my panties to confirm. A clear liquid drips from me; it’s clear but almost like honey as it slowly stretches down from my body before breaking and falling to the floor. I spread my legs and look closer, watching another dollop excrete from me.
Another wave of heat rushes between my legs to cause a deep throbbing. I look away from my own body and see the summoning circle. Since this is just a dream, I figure I can at least try, so I light the candles, then read the incantation. I hesitate for a moment, feeling that same bout of personal violation until the heat causes an even stronger sensation in me. I go to each candle, standing over them until my essence douses them just as described in the book. As the last candle goes out, I awake in my bed with the sun in my face.
Chapter 2: The Spirit
The dream haunts my memory as I wake up, which fills me with disgust as I think about what I did. I decide that no book, spell, or spirit is worth giving up my self-respect and dignity. I take the items for the spell and box them away along with the book, then use the moment to clean my room. The rest of the day is uneventful, and so is the night as I don’t experience any strange dreams or missing clothes.
My mood worsens over the next few days as I live through the torment of my female cycle. The cramps, hot flashes, headaches, and muscle pains make me more anti-social than usual. Also, let’s not forget about the breast pain. On the bright side, the swelling I get in my chest is the only time I don’t look so flat-chested. I don’t experience any symptoms on the third day, not even bleeding. I’m skeptical that my cycle came and went in two days, but even the fourth day doesn’t bring anything.
At the end of the day, I start to feel tired, so I get in bed early, hoping that I’m not getting sick. I wake in the middle of the night, which seems normal for me these days. I pull the blanket aside and see my nightgown is still in place as well.
“Sophie,” I hear a faint whisper call my name.
I stop myself from answering, having the suspicion that one or both of my brothers are checking to see if I’m asleep. This is the perfect chance to catch them in the act of being perverts, so I lie back down and pretend to sleep. I hear my name being whispered, again and again, each time getting closer. There’s a silence for a minute, almost enough to make me want to open my eyes, then I feel the blanket being pulled.
It’s a slow, careful motion as he or they moves the blanket from me. Not yet, I keep repeating in my head. I need to catch them doing something bad to leverage it over them, which means I have to let them get my clothes off. I feel fingers touch one shoulder, then the other, moving the straps of my gown to the sides. There’s a long pause again, making me worry that they stopped or caught on to me. A kiss to my lips almost startles me enough to make me jump, but I manage to remain still. His lips press on mine for long seconds, then withdraw before I feel my gown being pulled down. Just a little longer, I reassure myself.
Once I feel a hand on my breast, I open my eyes, ready to spring my trap. There’s nothing but a dark room in front of me. I quickly look down and see my exposed chest and gown around my waist. I’m confused, so I hang over the side of the bed and look under it. There’s nothing there either, nor anywhere else that I can see. I notice an appealing scent in my nose, but I can’t quite place the smell. My nerves calm, and I sit back in my bed and gather my thoughts. The scent intrigues me, so I breathe it in more, wanting to know what it is.
My body tingles each time I take a sniff. The tingling grows stronger until it becomes heat, and that heat rushes between my legs. Even though I can’t place the scent, I remember this feeling well. I pull my panties down just in time to feel the throbbing. Wetness follows, slowly beginning to drip from me. A voice in my head encourages me to touch it. I slump back, lying my head on the pillow, drawing in another breath to fill myself with that enthralling smell.
“Touch it, touch it, touch it,” the voice in my head continues, both soft and firm.
I move my hand down, touching the creamy-like fluid coming from my body. The voice tells me to rub now, and I do. My fingers are wet, allowing them to move slickly along my pussy and clitoris. Pleasure fills my body, and the voice becomes more urgent. Faster and don’t stop becomes its cadence, and I obey. After just a few minutes, there’s a massive wet spot on my bed, and there’s no sign of my essence slowing at all. The voice continues, now changing to don’t stop, almost there. My fingers are a blur now as if I were trying to start a fire on my clit. A strange sensation begins inside me, crawling out from the heat in my center, slowly at first, then it explodes. I’m scared as my body forcefully tenses up, though it feels incredible. I clench my teeth, my free hand grabbing the sheet of the bed in desperation.
I wake up slowly in the morning, feeling relaxed and well-rested. As I sit up, the memories of masturbation flood into my mind. I remember rubbing myself and having my first orgasm. The images of the wet spot cause me to stand up and yank my blankets to the side. There’s nothing, though, just my same old sheets. It couldn’t have been a dream, I think to myself. I’ve never had an orgasm before, so how could I dream about having one.
When I finish with breakfast and my chores, I go online to research what happened. I try different combinations of what I can remember until I see partial matches. Articles about wet dreams pop up the most, which explain various causes for them. After reading a few, I skip over the rest since they don’t pertain to my situation. Hours pass, and before I know it, it’s lunchtime, so I get food.
My mom takes Howard and me shopping for clothes to prepare for the new school year. Alex has a part-time job now and is starting community college, so he doesn’t have to wear a school uniform anymore. The trip itself is boring, consisting of trying on blouses and skirts, while Howard tries on shirts and pants. There are no fun combinations, no imagination, nothing, just the school-approved outfit and colors. I stand in the dressing room, wearing the last set, and find that the outline of my nipples shows through each top.
“Mom,” I say with the door cracked open.
“Everything okay?” She asks as she comes over. “Oh! Don’t worry, it happens to us all,” she says after I show her my issue. “Let’s get you some bras while we’re here.”
Howard makes fun of me at every opportunity, from my chest size to the size of the bras. Right before we make it to the checkout lanes, I finally have enough of his verbal poking and prodding.
“You’re just mad because you have a small penis,” I blurt out.
“Sophie, enough,” my mom chimes.
Both Howard and I have to do extra chores when we get home for acting up in the store. I’m charged with washing the clothes we just bought, which I’m okay with since I can be alone in the basement. The washer and dryer are to one side, and the other was converted into a small living space with a sofa, table, chairs, and t.v. I put the load in, then sit and listen to an audiobook while reading along. As I read, I notice the scent of the laundry changing. It’s a familiar smell, one that I like a lot. I walk back over to the washer, trying to find the source, when I suddenly remember what it is.
It’s the same scent from last night. I keep looking for it, in and around the machines, then on the other side of the basement. No matter what I do, the smell doesn’t get weaker or stronger, and nothing seems to change it.
“Undress,” I hear the voice say in my head.
I slip my top off, which rewards me with more of that irresistible fragrance. I breathe it in deeply, and it makes me throb, makes me wet. The voice tells me to take my bottoms off now, so I push them down, then another voice calls out once they hit my ankles.
“Sophie, are you alright down there?” My mom asks from the top of the steps, making me quickly sit up on the sofa.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I answer.
The scent is gone; I’m fully clothed, lying on the sofa with my tablet on my lap. I get up as the machine beeps, move the clothes to the dryer, then lean on the washer, checking to make sure I’m okay. After the drying cycle, I fold the clothes and take them upstairs. My brother takes his clothes, and I bring the rest to my room.
The sound of my name being called wakes me from my sleep again. The voice is more vibrant but still a whisper. I sit up in the bed, listening for it, and it sounds a second time, then a third. I focus my eyes in the direction I believe it’s coming from, then I hear it once more.
“Sophie,” he says.
“Howard?” I ask.
“No,” he answers.
“Who are you?” I ask again. I know I should be scared, yet I feel a sense of calm over me.
“Zeth,” he answers.
“And why are you in my room?” I continue.
“You called for me with your spell,” he says.
“I called for a helpful spirit,” I say.
“I am here to help you,” he says. “I know everything you want and wish for, but the spell you did wasn’t complete. At least not complete enough for what you want.”
“If I didn’t complete it, how did I summon you?”
“Offering your essence over the candles was enough for me to hear it, but you didn’t put in a full effort. Of course, you did much better last night by following my guidance.”
“It was you? You made me masturbate- and you made me orgasm.”
“I didn’t make you,” he says with a small laugh. “I recall you being very willing. Anyway, isn’t it paying off?”
“What do you mean?”
“I ended your period, and I think you noticed your breasts growing today,” he explains.
“You stopped my period?” I ask, very surprised.
“You’ll find I can be very helpful for the right contributions on your part,” he smiles.
His smile makes me notice how handsome he is. The more we talked, the closer he moved to my bed. He’s nothing how I imagine a spirit would look, though I don’t know what I would expect. The faint hint of that captivating scent is around him. He sits on my bed, and I pull my legs back, watching him intently.
“Contributions?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “There is always a cost to achieve your goals, especially the things you want the most. You want your natural body to change, not just the shape; you also want your periods to stop. What you’ve offered so far was enough to make the changes I’ve done up until now. But, your period is sure to return without further intervention. And, if you want more curves, you’ll need to work with me on that as well.”
“What do I have to do?” I ask after thinking about it. The thought of no more bleeding and no more cramps is already a bargain.
“It’s quite simple. Sexual energy is the best for changing nature itself, and it’s also the most potent for casting a plethora of spells.”
“So, if I want more of your help, I have to masturbate more?”
“My sweet Sophie,” he says, placing his hand on my foot, then extending my leg toward him. “Sexual energy is produced in many ways, some better than others. Even being aroused creates a little, and pleasure creates more, both giving and receiving. The more you do, and the more involved it is, the better and more potent the energy will be.”
I think about his words for a while as his hand rubs up and down my leg. He didn’t say it directly, but I know he means having sex will probably be the best option for the energy needed. Still, I have a strange feeling that there’s more to it than what he’s telling me.
“I’m still confused,” I say. He’s now rubbing my foot. “How do I get what I want? Do I just make a wish, then masturbate, and it happens? Do I call you? How does it work?
“You are quite precious, Sophie, but I do have many others under my wing too. While I can visit you sometimes, I’m here to help you get started.” He scoots closer to me, bringing both my legs over his lap. “You will use some of my power, mixed with the energy you gather to get what you want. It takes some practice, but you just need to think about your desire, then focus the energy into it.”
He pulls me gently onto his lap, my back to his chest, his arm around my middle, securing me. His body is warm, firm, and swirling with the scent I can’t get enough of. His free hand pulls my hair to the side, then his fingers touch my neck. I pull his smell into my nose, knowing that it’s going to make me aroused.
“Are you ready to receive my mark and live a better life?” He asks, his voice deep, smooth and exotic.
“Yes,” I say, my voice barely escaping my lips.
“Once you bear my mark, it’ll help you understand,” he says.
I feel his sharp fingernail touch my skin, then it moves slowly from my left hip, across my middle, making a design of some sort below my belly button, before continuing to the right. A burning sensation makes me wince as the mark he drew on me appears. It looks akin to a reproductive chart of the female anatomy, specifically the vagina, fallopian tubes, and ovaries, just in a more fancy design.
Chapter 3: My Mark
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, giving myself time to recall my strange dreams again. I sit up and pull the covers away, remembering the mark, his nail designing my skin and the burning. When I lift my shirt, my heart begins to race, and it comes into view. I rub it with my fingers, but it doesn’t erase or even smudge. I rub harder out of panic, then with both hands, making my skin red, but leaving the mark unaffected. There’s no way I can let my parents or anyone see this, not with our strict no tattoo policy. A sense of calm comes to mind, so I close my eyes, and if as being guided, I run my hand across the marking from one side to the other, making it vanish. I repeat the motion in the opposite direction, and it reappears. I smile.
“Why are you so happy?” Alex asks me at breakfast.
“Am I not allowed to be happy?” I say back sarcastically.
After breakfast, I head straight back to my room and reveal my mark again. I focus my thoughts on it, which guides me to look at the resemblance of the vaginal area. It’s filled partially with a glowing bar of sorts, almost like a meter. “My energy,” I say to myself as the knowledge seems to come to me. It’s like the information I need to know downloads itself directly into my head. I’m eager to see what I’m capable of now, especially since this power can do things like stop my period. The mark shows my energy is almost empty, so I doubt I can do much without building it up first.
I stand in front of the mirror in my room, gazing upon my plain reflection. I picture one of the popular girls at school and even some celebrities; my attention focuses on their face, eyes, nose, lips, eyebrows, and eyelashes. I bring my hands up and cover my own face, then guide the energy through my palms. It feels warm as it leaves the marking and travels up my body and through my arms. When I put my hands down again, I smile widely at my reflection. My face is entirely made over, eyebrows trimmed, eyelashes lengthened, my eyes painted perfectly with eye shadow. My cheeks are smooth, layered with blush, my lips full and colored black, my favorite color. My lips change to red with a focused thought, and I grin. I can feel my energy getting low, so I undo the changes and restore my face to its natural state.
I undress in front of the mirror, then stare at my mark. The more energy I fill it with, the more I’ll be able to do. I begin touching my clit, slowly bringing myself into arousal. My mark glows pink, getting brighter in sync with how aroused I am. I keep rubbing myself, finding what I like, what makes me feel good. When I finally cum, the mark fills very little, even less than I had this morning.
I’m distracted at dinner, seeking answers to questions in my own mind, like I’m searching the internet. It isn’t as direct as a search engine, though, and it only works when I’m as specific as possible. When dinner is over, I head back to my room and masturbate again, yielding the same results. I do it a third time, trying to put my mind into it, involving myself as much as possible, like Zeth said. Even three orgasms don’t fill my energy back to where it was initially.
I spend the next couple of days trying to find ways to fill it faster. I touch myself, finger myself, toy with my nipples, and even watch porn, but none of it helps me gain any quicker. My brothers leave the house for a while, so I use the time to manage my feminine care. With them gone, I don’t have to worry about constant knocking on the bathroom door while I’m trying to shave. I bring the blade to my leg, then I get a different idea. First, I reveal my mark, then focus the energy, push it down my legs, and it makes the hairs in my skin vanish. I repeat the process for my crotch until I’m entirely hairless on my body.
Unfortunately, the changes use up almost all of my energy, so I’m back to square one, and with school starting again soon, I need to gather enough to fulfill my goals. I think about ways to accomplish this, but it wouldn't be enough even if I masturbated several times a day between now and then.
“Do you have everything you need for school?” My dad asks, posing the question to the three of us at dinner.
“Yes,” I answer after my brothers.
“How does it feel to be going to college?”