Lyden just can't catch a break, as now the police are questioning him.
Author’s Note: Real quick, I know I usually do this at the end, but I really wanted to thank two people for their efforts in this story. Garbonzo607 as you know is my editor, he does an excellent job, and should really be commended for it. The time and effort he puts into this story, the blog, and everything else he does to make this story stand out is truly exemplary!
Also, SophieX deserves a shout out, for her ideas that went into this chapter. It’s also thanks to her, that there has been more dialog and detail for the last while, than there was in the beginning chapters.
Now, without further ado, here is chapter 17!
After being captured by and escaping Orcs, a megalomaniacal dragon, an irate demon, chased by Cyclopes, and narrowly avoiding certain death at the hands of a light creature that wants to destroy all worlds, it’s almost embarrassing to be taken into custody by something as mundane as the local police force.
How long are they going to keep me tied up in here, I wonder for the umpteenth time. My wrists are handcuffed to a bar on top of a table; the chain connecting the circlets runs around the bar. The metal chair I’m sitting on doesn’t add to my comfort. I’m not sure how many hours I’ve been in here, but my rear is getting sore.
I hadn’t resisted when the gun-toting officers had arrested me, but the way they’d reacted makes me think they believe me to be some sort of monster. They’d read me my Miranda rights, but otherwise haven’t said more than two words to me.
The big metal door on my right finally opens, and a very plain looking woman dressed sharply in a dark suit steps through. Her dark brown, nearly black hair is tied back tightly into a ponytail and her severe brown eyes seem to penetrate me to the very soul.
Speaking of which, how do I consider my soul? Do I have only one, or do I have many? A question for another time, I think, as she sits across from me. Placing a manila envelope on the table, she glares at me. The mirror behind her lets me know that I’ve probably been under surveillance the whole while.
Minutes go by in silence, as her dark eyes try to bore into me. I must be getting some of Angela’s ability to read intentions, because I know she’s waiting for me to crack and talk first.
Growing bored, I try to use my ability to see someone’s past, but feel as if I’ve run into a brick wall. I don’t think she is actively blocking me, but rather that I’m still too weak after the ordeal last night with Becky and Aldol.
I wait some more.
My hands grow sweaty, and I have to consciously stop myself from tapping my foot with impatience. To occupy my mind, I begin having one-sided games with her. I stare into her eyes, and try to guess how many lashes she has. After losing count for the fifth time, I try to count her freckles. I count forty-two. I try to examine every aspect of her face, and notice that one eye is slightly lighter in color than the other. Her left eye is still brown, but not as dark as her right. Both earlobes have only a single piercing, but are empty of earrings. Her eyebrows are thick and untrimmed, but they are separate. Her nose is what I suppose they call a ‘button nose’ which sits above a thin set of lips. Her face is slender, leading down to a slightly pointed chin.
“You’re a patient man, Mr. Snow.” Her voice actually startles me, and I see her grin at my jumpiness.
Dang it, I’d been playing the game so well!
I smile back, keeping my silence. Let her make of that what she will.
Her smile broadens. Apparently, she’s one of those women who neither gets prettier, nor uglier when she smiles, remaining constantly plain.
“It seems you’re quite the interesting man.” She opens up the manila envelope, and shoves something over to me. It stops in front of me, and I see that it’s a sideways picture of something that makes my mouth go dry. I can’t reach the black and white picture to straighten it out, but I don’t have to.
My face is easily visible in the sharp image, and I recognize the surroundings of the impound lot where I’d broken the Orange Bubble free. Angela is tightly grasped in my arms, as I hold her protectively. The worst part of the picture though, is me standing with my dark wings spread wide, my mouth open in an inaudible yell, and dogs just starting to turn and run in fear.
“I see you recognize it,” the woman says, satisfaction in her voice.
Drat! She’s good, I realize, knowing I’m out-matched. I can’t give in yet though.
“Recognize it?” I say, trying to look calmly back at the woman. “Looks impressive. Who did the Photoshop work?”
Aggravatingly, her smile deepens. “Let’s dispense with this game, shall we?” Her voice is triumphant as she speaks. “We both know that is you. We both know that you somehow leaped over the fence with these wings and crashed your old-style Volkswagen Beetle through the front gate, driving away.” I keep quiet, and she seems to take that for assent. “What I’d like to know, is how you made those wings, and used them.”
Wait. . . . What? She doesn’t want to know why I broke my car out, or why I’m holding an unconscious woman in my arms?
Too late, I realize this must be another of her efforts to throw me off balance. She really is good.
I concentrate on her again, trying to read something from her, but only come away with her name. Well, it’ll have to be good enough. The only question now is how much of my hand to play, and how much to bluff.
“Agent Olsen—may I call you Miranda?—you wanted to dispense of games, let’s do so.” If she’s shocked by my knowledge of her name, it doesn’t show. “What do you really want to know?”
She regards me for a second, before reaching out and pulling the incriminating picture back. She doesn’t put it away, but instead pulls another picture out, and lays it next to the first. It takes a bit of effort not to gulp as I see this one. The image isn’t as clear, but I’m still able to make out enough details to recognize the grocery store parking lot, where the Myrmidon had attacked Jennifer and me. The fire ant creature is blowing fire at me, and I know that this is the moment of my car’s demise.
Another image follows, and I almost fail to stifle a groan. In this one, I’m lying on top of my car, wings out and draped down the side of my car as it drives away from my burning apartment building.
“You asked what I want to know, Mr. Snow,” her calm face actually breaks at the unintended rhyme, the corner of her mouth dipping just slightly. The crack in her façade lasts only a second, before she’s all cool business again. “It’s simple, really. I want to know what you are.” Her brown eyes pierce me again, and I have to look down at the images, in order not to crack under their glare.
What can I tell her that she’ll believe? The truth is too far-fetched, but the evidence is in those pictures. Can I tell her the wings are just a mechanical attachment? A quick glance up at her face tells me I’d better not try. If I tell her what I am, and about the Shadow World, she’ll have me locked up in a loony bin. Or worse, if she believes me, I’ll find myself being studied by scientists, and possibly dissected. I guess there is only one thing to do, and hope it doesn’t get me locked up in a psyche ward. I’m way too weak to break out of here.
“I’m the child of a mermaid, and something else,” I begin. I have to force the words past my throat, afraid of having this woman throw me even more off balance. “I don’t know what my father was. I seem to have the powers of an incubus as well, so maybe that’s what he was. They’re dead now, so I can’t exactly ask him. Everyone calls me a generator, though, so maybe that’s what I am.” I raise my eyes to see how my admission is affecting her, but she still has on her calm exterior, except for her eyes. Those mismatched brown orbs are glowing with an inner light that strikes me as different from Aldol. “You wanted to know what I am? I’m apparently an abomination that shouldn’t exist, but seem to be the only person that can save two worlds.”
I meet her slightly mismatched eye, feeling defiant inside, just daring her to look away. Instead, she smiles.
“That was a lot easier than usual,” she states evenly. “Normally we have to drag confessions out of you monsters with various torture techniques.” Her voice could be talking about the weather, she’s so calm. “Of course, most of your kind are better at hiding than you seem to be. It’s not very often we get photo evidence of what you are.”
“Wait,” I say, shaking my head to clear it, “you believe me?”
She deigns to give me a condescending smile before speaking. “The Daughters of Respite have always been vigilant against your ilk.”
I don’t like the way she said that.
“My . . . ilk?” I stammer. “Look, I think you have the wrong idea about me. I’m not a monster! I’m trying to save lives!”
“Like those twelve that died in your apartment fire?” she asks, raising one thick eyebrow. “Or what about all the property damage you caused at that grocery store?” She pushes the picture of me holding Angela in my arms forward, before stabbing her finger down at the comatose succubus. “She doesn’t exactly look too alive right there.” Anger seeps into her voice, and it’s all the worse for following after the calm.
“The fire wasn’t my fault,” I exclaim defensively, “and Angela is still alive. I had to get her to my car to save her life!”
That eyebrow rises again before she responds, her voice even once more. “How many women have you seduced with that line? It is your fault, Mr. Snow. If you hadn’t been in our world, then that fire never would have happened. That poor woman never would have needed your help. We rested this world away from you and your kind. You can be damned certain we’re not going to give it up now.”
This woman seems to be very knowledgeable about the past. Who is she? She’d called herself a member of the Daughters of Respite, whoever they are. This is definitely the last thing I expected when the police had brought me in here.
“I don’t know what you think you know,” I say hesitantly, “but I was born here on Earth. I’m not a monster feeding on hapless prey. Earth and the Shadow World are both in danger, and I may be the only one that can save either one.”
She gives a bark of laughter that’s nearly as startling as her anger had been a minute ago. “Many of the things from your world have birth certificates here. It’s actually a fairly easy thing to fake. But you want me to believe you’re important because you’re this generator? We’ve heard the prophecy your kind made up. Do you really think we’re that gullible? The Daughters of Respite have been protecting Earth for a millennium. We’re not so easily fooled by simple words.”
“But I’m telling the truth!” I yell at her, my patience finally lost. It’s so frustrating to sit here; handcuffed and weak, telling the truth to someone who refuses to even acknowledge she might not have all the facts. “A light demon call Aldol is trying to collapse the Shadow World. I—“
“Good,” she cuts me off, a malicious gleam in her eyes. “Let that demented world collapse. Let all those monsters die in the world they escaped justice to.”
“You don’t understand,” I cry out. “If the Shadow World collapses, then it’s just as likely that all of those creatures, both good and bad, will be forced back to our world. It’ll be catastrophic if that happens.”
“Our world?” Derision is thick in her voice now. “Do not presume that you can call this world your ‘home’ vile monster. You claim that both good and bad monsters will come here, but there are no good monsters. I’m done listening to your lies.” Agent Olsen slips the pictures back into the manila envelope, and stands to leave. “I have a report to file with my fellow sisters.”
I try to stand and stop her, but the handcuffs stop me. Concentrating my will on her again, I try to get her to stop, and feel myself growing weaker. I can’t have her reporting to some group that is hell-bent on killing all creatures from the Shadow World. If she kills me, and I really am the one that’s been prophesied about, then both worlds are in serious trouble, and I may be the only one that can save them.
She pauses at the door, and I think my efforts to stop her are working.
“Of course,” she states hesitantly, “if you were willing to lead us to one of the portals to your world, we would be willing to take you back there. You’d have to watch as we kill everything we find, but at least you’d live that much longer.”
“Damn it!” I swear, frustration making me slip into using poor language. Helplessly I stare at her, wishing that there was something more I could do than just sit here handcuffed to this table.
She turns to look at me, to see how I’m taking her proposal, and our eyes meet.
Miranda Olsen had been a little girl when she’d watched her parents die. The images from that night still haunt her. The spray of blood as her mother’s throat was ripped open by a set of sharp fangs. Her father screaming for Miranda to run, before a furry creature knocks him over, and begins gleefully tearing out his entrails.
The moon had been high and full in the cloudless summer night sky. They had been camping up in the mountains, enjoying the millions of stars that can only be seen away from civilization. The attack had come unexpectedly. The only reason she had been in the small camper instead of by the fire with her father, mother, and brother, was because she had gone in to grab a soda.
She’d heard the howls, followed by her mother’s scream, suddenly cut short. Terrified, she’d hidden under the table/bunk. Even when the howls of feasting had turned to yelps of alarm, she refused to come out, ignoring her father’s pleas to run in her terror. It wasn’t until a gore spattered older woman entered with an equally gore covered sword in hand, and she involuntarily gasped in fright, that she truly became afraid, voiding her bladder.
The older woman spun to face her, brandishing a shiny sword, and staring down at the girl. She had been kind, checking over Miranda and making sure she hadn’t been hurt. A blindfold was placed over her eyes before they carried her out of there, but it was already too late. The violence of the scene was already imprinted indelibly in her memory.
It wasn’t until many years later that she found out her brother’s body was never found.
If I wasn’t already sitting, my legs would have given way beneath me. I feel even weaker than I had been before the police took me into custody. I understand this plain looking woman a lot more than I had just a few moments before. No wonder she hates me so much, hates all creatures that aren’t one-hundred percent human.
Before I have the chance to say anything, she turns and walks from the room. Dejected and full of despair, I drop my head to my arms and try not to think about my fate.
The door opens a few seconds later, and I refuse to look up. I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how I truly feel right now.
She grabs my right wrist, and I can feel her playing with the lock on my restraints. Maybe if I time it right, I’ll be able to disarm her and fight my way out.
As soon as my hand is free, I stand in a rush, throwing the last bit of my energy into grabbing her throat and throwing her back.
I see that it isn’t Miranda, but a young female cop instead. She hits the back wall, as I pull the cuff still attached to my left wrist away from the bar and head over to the downed officer to grab her gun.
“Lyden,” the cop gasps, making me freeze, “it’s me, Angela.”
“Angela?” I ask, stunned. Looking closer at her, I can see that she’s quite attractive. I’ve never seen her as a cop before, and wonder who was having a cop fantasy to help her come in here disguised like this. Her blonde hair is disheveled from my attack, parts of it sticking out of the bun in the back of her head. She looks up at me, and I can see that her rich blue eyes are framed by long lashes. There is no mistaking the look of love behind those eyes though, and I know it’s her. Terrible guilt for attacking her seethes through me, but how was I supposed to know it was her?
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea it was you!” I gasp, bending over, and trying to help her up.
“Never mind that now,” she groans as I help her back to her feet. “Damn, those lessons with Lisa have really helped you out.” She shakes her head to clear it while rubbing her throat, and then looks fearfully at me. “We need to get you out of here now! There’s a DOR out there, and they aren’t known for being friendly with anyone with ties to my world.”
It takes me a moment to realize she was pronouncing the initials for Daughters of Respite, and not saying that there’s a door that won’t open for us.
“Yeah, I met her,” I grumble. “I don’t think she likes me very much, and I’m usually so good with women.”
Angela’s smile dazzles across her face, and I feel myself warmed by it. It only lasts for a moment before she looks at my wrist and frowns. “We need to get you out of here before she returns. Those women are dangerous.”
I get anxious when the succubus locks the handcuff loosely behind my back, but know that we need to keep up some kind of appearance to make it out of here. If only I could go invisible like her.
She walks me out in front of her and down a long hallway. We enter the office area and I wait for someone to yell out that we aren’t supposed to be out here.
The trouble comes from a different angle.
“Officer Jenkins, what’re you doing out here? I thought I just saw you in the break room.”
Angela curses softly behind me, and I comprehend that she’d taken the image of another officer in this precinct. By the tone of this officer, I suspect he’d been the one fantasizing about Officer Jenkins.
“I just need to run him out real quick,” Angela says behind me, keeping her calm. “I’ll be back in a second. There was something I wanted to talk to you about anyway.” Her voice becomes a little solicitous at the end, and I find myself growing irrationally jealous. I know she’s just pretending, but it still galls me to hear a woman I love act like that for someone else.
Yeah, I know, double standards. The women I’m with are okay with me being with other women, but I have an issue with them even fake flirting. At least I’m not trying to rule every second of their lives.
“What do you mean?” an identical voice to Angela’s current one states, but this one coming from the other side of the male cop.
“Shit!” I hear the succubus curse under her breath. “Hurry,” she adds, prodding me to go faster ahead of her.
“What the fuck?” someone else exclaims. “I didn’t know you had a twin, Jenkins.”
“I don’t,” the real Jenkins says, her tone confused. “What’s she doing?”
“Run!” Angela yells, and I slip my hand out of the loose right cuff, and follow her advice.
“Stop them!” I hear Miranda yell behind us and double my speed. “Shoot them, dammit! Don’t let them get away!”
No gunshots sound off, however, and we reach a door that is magnetically locked. Angela pulls out an ID card with the real Officer Jenkins’s image on it, flashing it across the sensor, and opening the door.
The Orange Bubble is waiting just outside, running and with the doors open. We waste no time jumping into it, before commanding the Orange Bubble to get moving.
I rush to the back of my car, looking out the large window. Through the distortion of my magically modified car, I’m able to make out cops rushing out of the building, and looking around for us. They stop in consternation, unable to see where we went.
“Why didn’t they shoot at us?” I ask the succubus as I head back to the front.
“They couldn’t,” she says. “We didn’t pose any real threat to them, so they couldn’t use lethal force. Also, there were officers all around us, and they risked hitting one of their own.”
Thank goodness for laws and honest cops, I think to myself. What am I going to do now, though? I’m likely to go on a terrorist watch list or something. I guess I’m not going back to work after all, come Monday. Sheila’s going to be upset, and I wonder what Jennifer is going to think about my absence.
“Angela,” I say, getting an idea, “I need to make a call. Know where I can borrow a phone?”
Without blinking she reaches into her breast pocket and pulls out a small cell phone, with Hello Kitty on the cover.
“Where. . .?” I ask her, wondering why she would have a mobile phone.
“Just because I was born four-hundred years ago, doesn’t mean I can’t be a modern girl,” she laughingly says. “Besides, the good officer Jenkins had it on her when I copied her image. Anyone you call with it will appear as if it’s coming from her.”
I hesitate only a moment, hoping that we haven’t already gotten the female cop into trouble, before turning it on. The background image on her home screen shows her with some man, not the officer that’d been fantasizing about her, and a tiny baby that is obviously her daughter.
I dial the police station that we’d just escaped from, and wait for the operator. As soon as he answers, I ask for the captain of the station.
“This is Captain Jewkes,” a male voice answers a couple seconds later.
“Captain Jewkes,” I say as calmly as I can, my heart pounding like a drum, “this is Lyden Snow.”
There is silence for a moment, and I can only imagine him waving at someone to start doing a line trace. I’m not sure if that’s what’s really happening, but I hope the clone of Jenkins’s phone works enough to throw them off our trail. Regardless of the cause for the pause, he starts speaking a couple seconds later.
“Mr. Snow, you ran out of here in such a hurry, we didn’t get the chance to properly talk before.” His voice is even and calm making me wonder if they train all officers to be able to talk so easily. “Why don’t you come back, and we can have a nice little chat.”
“I sat there for I don’t know how long,” I reply, trying to mimic his easy banter, “and the only person who came in, threatened to call her friends and have me executed before I ever made it to trial.”
There is another silence as my statement sinks in.
“I didn’t start the fire at my apartment complex, Captain. Those twelve deaths were not my fault,” I continue, wanting to get my side of the story out.
“When you were in here before, you stated that you were gone when the fires happened. You can see how we might jump to conclusions when we find video evidence to the contrary.” I can hear him draw in a breath at the other end before he continues. “I’m willing to listen to what you have to say, Mr. Snow, but you have to understand how your situation looks right now.”
He sounds so sincere, I’m almost tempted to go back, but know it for a lost cause.
“Not as long as Agent Olsen is there,” I tell him calmly. “That woman wants me dead. She made that very clear.”
I can hear a commotion in the background, and a moment later a female voice cries out. They’ve found Jenkins and her phone.
Time for some damage control. “Officer Jenkins had no part to play in what happened at your station,” I tell the captain. “We borrowed her image and cloned her phone without her consent. I’m truly sorry for any trouble this causes her, but I want you to know she is completely innocent.”
“How did you . . .” his voice trails off, and for the first time I realize he’s slightly shaken. Apparently a phone trace is supposed to break through someone cloning a phone.
“Look,” I say calmly, “I’m willing to talk to someone, but not if it is around Agent Olsen. That woman scares me, I don’t mind telling you. If after I’ve explained the whole truth, you still want to arrest me, I’ll go peacefully. But before that, I want you to watch and listen to the video of her interview of me. I think it will prep you for what I’ll have to say, and you’ll see what I mean by Agent Olsen’s behavior. I’ll call you back tomorrow.” I don’t wait for a response, before hanging up.
“Do you really think he’ll give you a fair listen?” Angela asks me.
“No, but what choice do I have? Become hunted in both worlds?” I ask resignedly, before sitting next to her and watching the distorted scenery zoom by.
Opening the phone, I make another call; this one going to voicemail.
“Sheila, this is Lyden. The police are after me, so I won’t be able to come in to work until I can clear my name. I understand if this means I’m fired, again. I don’t have my phone, but I can listen to my voicemails. Take care.” I hang up, unable to think of what else to say.
I have to look up the next number, going into my Google account to find it.
“Hello?” Jennifer answers the other end, and I have to think to figure out what to say. Part of me had hoped to get her voicemail as well.
“Jennifer, it’s Lyden,” I say carefully, not sure how she feels about me currently. She’d made it clear that we aren’t going to be an item, but she had helped me out, taking out the Myrmidon, and I wanted to warn her in case the police come for her next.
“Lyden!” she exclaims, sounding happy to hear from me. “I take it you’re back from that other world?”
“Um, yes. . . .” I reply hesitantly, not sure how to go about this. I’d forgotten that I’d told her everything I knew at the time. She must have realized that with my extended absence from work, that’d been where I was. “Listen, the police are after me again. They think I was the cause of the fire.”
“That’s crazy!” she states confidently. “You’re great at causing a fire in my loins, but those cocksuckers need to pull their heads out of their ass and realize it was that fire thing that was trying to kill you.”
I flinch inwardly at her expletives concerning the boys in blue. Personally I appreciate the cops. Until now I’ve never really been on their wrong side.
“I know,” I respond to the crass woman, “but it’s not exactly as though they can question the thing, so I look like the guilty one.”
“So . . . what are you telling me, Lyden?” she grows hesitant as she asks me.
“I’m telling you that I may be away for awhile, and to keep your head up. You saved my tail, and I owe you. I don’t want you getting into trouble for it,” I warn her.
“There’s a lot more I’d like to do with your tail,” she states solicitously, “but thanks for the heads up. You’re innocent, Lyden, and if the po-po come talk to me, I’ll tell them as much, too.”
“Thanks Jennifer,” I say appreciatively. Hanging up, I hand the phone back to Angela.
“You know,” the succubus states beside me, and I have a feeling I already know what she’s going to say, “we don’t have to rush straight back.”
“If you’re going to propose sex,” I reply dryly, “I’m going to have to wonder why you aren’t already naked.”
She veritably giggles as she throws herself at me. Her arms slip around my neck, and I feel her lips press against mine, her tongue diving between my teeth, demanding attention.
“You’re insatiable,” I tell her happily when we break for air. After the mood I’d been in, this is just what I need to cheer me up. Of course, I could use the recharge as well. Looking into her deep blue eyes, I feel a little guilty for making out with the form of the officer that is likely in some hot water because of me, and probably married to boot. “Would you mind changing back to your original form?” I ask, wanting to make love to the true Angela.
“Oh, Lyden,” She gushes, but shakes her head. “If I change from this form, we’ll lose the phone, and I don’t think you want to get someone else into trouble if I copy them. I know you need to call tomorrow, so you’ll just have to suffer through this pretty body I’ve copied.”
“Well, it’ll be a hardship, but if I must, I must,” I tell her, smiling widely. I still feel guilty, but I must admit that the thought of making it with a cop is a bit of a turn on. In fact. . . . “Come on,” I tell her, standing and leading her to the bed in the back of my car. I fish in her pockets, until I can find the key to the cuffs still attached to my left wrist, and unlock it.
I hold them up to her, and she smiles lustily at me. “I didn’t think you had that in you.” Something sparks the memory of her past, about being abused as a slave, and I hesitate. “Relax,” she coos lovingly at me. “That was a very long time ago. I know you love me, and have no intention of hurting me.” The trust I hear in her voice and see in her long lashed eyes warms me to the core.
“I love you, Angela,” I whisper, pulling her body to me, while kissing her deeply. Her left leg slips around my right one and she pulls me back and onto her, on the bed.
She giggles as I start to undo the buttons on her top, before pushing me away. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asks, glancing at the handcuffs where they’d fallen next to us.
Grinning at her, I grab the metal rings, and latch one around her slender wrist. We slide up further on the bed, and I slip the chain around one of the bars at the top, latching the other end around her free wrist.
“You’re forgetting something else,” she laughs, wriggling her legs. Searching her clothing, I find two more sets of cuffs, these with longer chains. Unsurprisingly, the longer chains are just right to latch each ankle to the bedposts at the bottom. She wiggles for a second, pulling on each limb, before smiling at me again. “What are you waiting for, lover?”
Deciding to really get into this, I dispense with unbuttoning her top, and simply rip it open, exposing a pale flat stomach beneath, and a thick gray bra. Roughly I pull the bra up, exposing firm C-cup breasts. Her areolas are about the size of quarters, the nipples already taught and standing proud. I latch onto her left breast, and don’t expect the flood that enters my mouth as I suck.
“How do you like?” Angela asks, moaning. “Apparently the good officer is still breastfeeding.”
Wordlessly I answer by sucking harder, and swallowing the warm, slightly sweet substance down my throat. My hands frantically begin working at her waist, trying to get her pants undone. Once opened however, I can’t get them pulled down her spread legs. Right now I’m still too weak to tear them off her, so I guess I’ll just have to make her cum, and get them off when our souls mingle.
Switching nipples, I slip my hand down the front or her drawers, and find only a slim strip of crinkly hair, before I reach her already wet snatch.
The officer-clad succubus begins to buck beneath me, as I find her clitoris, and vigorously move my hands against it. Sensing her growing close to climax, I suck hard on her nipple, filling my mouth with her warm milk, then moving up and kissing her. The almost sweet milk fills her mouth as our tongues churn the warm liquid, and our joined lips muffle her moans as she peaks.
As soon as I feel energy pour into my body, I use it to tear her pants apart, splitting them along the seam at the crotch. I leave her light pink panties alone for now, but don’t miss the Hello-Kitty emblem on her right hip. Apparently Officer Jenkins has a softer side.
“Mmm,” Angela moans throatily, licking her lips. “We’ve tasted my milk, now I want to taste yours!”
Knowing she wants my cock, and not my nipples, I move up the bed, lay my calves under her arms, and slowly feed her my malleable meat. I start by placing the tip on her bottom lip, and grin as she sticks out her tongue, trying to coax me into her warm wet mouth. I happily oblige her, holding myself at my base, and guiding it between her lips. I feel the back of her throat, and pull back out, but she tries to suck me back in.
“What are you doing?” she demands of me. “I want to feel you all the way down my throat. Choke me with that wonderful cock of yours!”
Who am I to argue? Placing my thick rod back in her mouth, I moan as I feel her tongue urge me deeper into her hungry orifice. The head hits the back of her devouring mouth, and I hesitate again, but when I see her eyes flash with desire and need—not with Aldol’s control—I shove myself deeper, groaning as she moans, sending delicious shivers through my cock.
I realize quickly that my rod has conformed to her trachea, and know that I’m not truly choking her. Apparently she realizes it too, because her throat suddenly constricts, strangling the length of my woody. She’s making herself choke on it, I understand, and I’m so turned on by her wanton drive to please me, that I immediately start firing my seed down her gullet. We both moan in shared bliss, and I appreciate that she’s cumming with me, driving our passions higher.
When I’m finally done unloading, she doesn’t let me go, even though I can see tears streaming down her cheeks from her choking. Every time I try to pull out, she uses her teeth to convince me to stay lodged in her mouth, and I soon realize I’m not growing soft.
I lean back a bit, placing my hand over her soaked pink panties, and press them firmly into her hole. She gasps at the pleasure, and I use the distraction to free my rod.
She glares at me, but I move quickly, sliding down her body, pulling her Hello Kitty panties aside, and driving my saliva slickened penis deep inside her hot vagina. Once again our sexual organs work to compensate for the other, ever changing, but I notice she is just a bit looser this time, and wonder if it is because the real Officer Jenkins had had a baby.
Regardless, when I latch onto a leaking nipple, I feel her inner walls grip my rod, as I drink of her essence.
“Oh, how I would love to feed our baby like this,” Angela moans, and I freeze at her comment. I know she wants to carry my child, but I’m wary of what the child might become.
The pause is only for the slightest moment, before I continue again. As long as I don’t consciously will it, she shouldn’t get pregnant.
I let my full weight press down on her, as I switch nipples, reach under her, and grip her still panty-covered buttocks. Picking up my pace, I drive into the bound woman again and again, driving the volume of her moans higher and higher. My breathtaking succubus feels so wonderful, wrapped around my member, bucking her hips against me, while remaining constrained, and I relish every delightful inch if her.
“Oh, Lyden!” she cries out in ecstasy. “Don’t stop! Fuck, you’re going to make me cum again! Ooohhhh!”
Sucking harder on her teat, I feel her delicious milk fill my mouth again, and wonder what it would be like for her to feed our child. Would she only be able to feed him or her in whatever form she conceived it in? What would happen with the fetus, when she changes form?
The thought of delivering potent sperm into her womb is really starting to turn me on, and almost too late I remember the dangers of such an act. As my cock starts to twitch inside her, I concentrate on shooting blanks.
“Yes!” she pleads with me, “fill my cunt with your sperm. I love how hot and good it fills inside me, my love. Fill me up with your seed! Oh, I feel it leaking out, there’s so much.”
Her powerful orgasm crashes into me, and for a few seconds we feel as one, part of me wanting nothing more than to place my child within her womb, and part of me terrified about what that would end up like.
Exhausted, and yet exhilarated, I collapse next to the pretend cop, and kiss her gently on the cheek. “I love you,” I whisper to her, cuddling close to her bound body, and smiling dreamily.
* * *
“You go on in,” Angela tells me as we pull into the driveway. “Becky asked me to pick up some groceries. With everyone living here now, we’re going to need some more supplies.”
It’s not until I get out of the Orange Bubble and Angela is driving away that I realize there is an unknown car in the driveway. Swearing—or at least as much swearing as I ever really do—I remember that I’d driven Lisa’s car to the police station, and that it’s still there. I can’t go back to get it, but hopeful my two human girlfriends can.
Wondering whom this new car belongs to; I walk through the front door and freeze.
“Father Chilton,” I say as cheerfully as I can muster for a man I seem to instinctively dislike. “How are you today?”
“Reverend Chilton, please,” he corrects me, that bright smile plastered to his deeply tanned faced. “It’s good to see you healthy again.” His brown eyes dart around the room looking for something, before I see a calculating look enter the dark orbs, but it never touches his voice. How did he know I’d been hurting? I glance at Lisa, Becky, Brooke, and Ondine sitting around the room, but they give nothing away. Remembering how my girlfriends had acted around him last weekend, I try to figure out the fastest way to get him out of here. “I had a bit of a chat with AnnaBelle Lewis this morning, and she had some interesting things to tell me.”
It takes all my effort not to curse out loud, and I end up grinding my teeth in frustration. Logically I understand why the pious woman would go to her reverend for help, especially with her crisis of faith, but it still galls to have this charismatic man know anything more about my life than I really want him to. After the ordeal at the police station, my patience is shot.
“Well, thanks for stopping by,” I tell him hurriedly, waving him to the door. “As you can see I’m doing fine. Give AnnaBelle my regards.”
“Lyden,” Lisa snaps at me, “don’t be so rude. The busy reverend took time out of his busy day to come check on us.”
“Considering everything that’s been happening to us lately,” Becky adds in, “the fact that we have a sympathetic ear can’t hurt.”
“Except that there are groups out there,” I spin on the two women, my voice rising in anger, “like the Daughters of Respite that want nothing more than to kill me, Brooke, Ondine, Arethusa, and Angela, simply because we’re not pure human. How do I know he isn’t in league with them?” I regret my anger and words as soon as they leave my mouth, especially when I see the pain they cause the women in front of me, but it’s already too late to take them back.
“I assure you,” Chilton’s deep voice breaks in firmly, “that I am not a part of their group. For one, I am a male, and they only accept women into their order.”
I turn to yell at him, but I’m not sure what to say and finally have to close my open mouth. “You know of them, then?” I ask lamely after a second.
“You could say we’ve crossed paths,” he says with an enigmatic smile. “They tend to have a skewed view of things.” His eyes are still darting around, but I can’t figure out what he’s looking for. “As dangerous as they are, the ones you really need to look out for are the Paladonic Knights. They’re truly dangerous, and very organized.”
If he’d grown a third eye, I don’t think I would have been more surprised. How much does this religious man know about the supernatural world?
“Please, sit down,” he waves graciously to an empty chair as if this were his home. I find myself obeying before I even realize I’m moving. “Now then, I’ve been told that you are a generator, and that there is a prophecy spoken about you. Is this right?” Something about the way he says that makes me think he already knows the answer.
I nod that is it, and he spouts the prophecy flawlessly:
“When the air calms down,
And rain slows on Water’s door.
Comes the time for all to wail.
A deadly new enemy to abhor.
A generator comes forth,
To save all or completely fail.
A foe that’s timeless,
Even on our life's long scale.
Colors swirl to hide our nemesis,
Our destruction, he strives to make.
Only the blind can resist his will,
Unless his choice is a mistake.
A blade to kill, and a blade to save,
A talisman to forge the path between.
To kill and save, or save and kill,
One path to both, yet choices lean.
Our hero’s life shall meet its end,
Unless he strikes the deadly beast.
His friends shall fall or rise,
Until all his efforts have ceased.”
I shiver as the words pour forth from him in his baritone voice, somehow sounding direr.
“How did you know that?” Becky asks, and I realize that the women hadn’t told it to him.
“I’ve known that prophecy for a long time. I never thought I’d see it come to pass though.” His eyes scan the room before coming back to rest on me. “I’ve long known about what you call the Shadow World, and its denizens.”
“And what side do you stand on?” I ask, trying to regain some control over the situation.
“I share in some of the understandings of both the Daughters and the Knights, but don’t believe in their philosophy or execution,” he answers after a moment’s thought. I realize that that was no real answer, but before I can ask for more clarification, he asks, “You mentioned some other people that I don’t see here. Angela and Arethusa?” The question comes off as off-handed, but something tells me it is anything but.
I mentally curse myself for mentioning them in my anger, but I don’t intend to tell him anything more than I have to. There’s something about him that rubs me wrong, and despite his easy attitude, I don’t trust him. At least Lisa and Becky aren’t swooning over him like last time. A quick glance at Brooke and Ondine show that they’re slightly wary as well, and I realize they haven’t spoken since I got here.
“Oh, Angela is shopping I think, and Areth is—“ Lisa pipes up, answering before I can stop her, but I’m able to cut her off.
“Areth is on an errand for me,” I complete Lisa’s sentence, not giving away anything.
Reverend Chilton frowns at my statement, and for some reason I get the feeling he just became very angry.
“So, she, or rather they aren’t with you right now?” His voice is calm, but I get the impression he is more interested in Areth than Angela. Something nags the back of my mind about that, but as usual, I can’t seem to figure out what while in the moment.
“They’re free spirits,” I tell him. “I don’t control their movements.”
“Free spirit?” White hot rage enters his tone, and I can almost feel heat pouring forth from his nearly blazing eyes. All pretense of calm is lost as he glares at me, walking over and standing above me. “How?! How can she be a free spirit?”
Something seems to click into place, but before I can finish putting two and two together, the door opens up, and Areth flutters in.
“Lyden, I talked with Gaia,” she starts, ignorant of the mood in the room. “She said she would like to talk to you, and will send someone to escort us safely to her in about a month.” She stops as she finally realizes something isn’t right, and I see the color drain from her golden tinged face as she stares at Reverend Michael Chilton. Her wings give out, and she plummets to the floor, landing in a heap. She stares horror struck at the religious man, and it takes her a few seconds before she can find her voice.
“Marchosias. . . .” The name is barely above a whisper, but in the silence of the room, it’s heard easily. “No!”
Areth apparently finds some reserve of strength as she gets up, and flees towards the door.
Reverend Chilton is faster however, as his body blurs and a winged wolf with a serpent for a tail catches the fairy’s legs in his yellowish teeth.
The demon shakes his head, flinging the hapless fairy back at me, her golden form striking me in the chest before she lands in my lap.
I stare in terror at the wolf shaped demon as he glares at me. His eyes are still brown, and his tail hisses at us.
“It would seem that I underestimated you, generator. A mistake I won’t make twice.” The wolf shakes his head, sending ripples through his fur and flapping his wings. “I don’t dare kill you because of the prophecy, but I dearly want to. What should I do with you?”
“L-let us go, and pretend this never happened?” I stutter, trying to sound brave, but my voice comes out just above a squeak.
“Oh-ho! Even now you still have some backbone. No, I’m afraid I can’t set such precedence. You will both have to be punished for this, but how to do it?”
He paces back and forth in a very wolf-like manor as he deliberates.
I glance at the other women in the room, and see that they’re just as terrified as I am, though Brooke and Ondine are hiding it better than Becky, who is in tears.
“Leave the other women out of it,” I say, glad that this time my voice has some more strength behind it. “They had nothing to do with me deceiving you.”
“Hmm, you’re right,” the demon murmurs, his voice dangerously calm and I think he may be reasonable. “Unfortunately, you’ve just shown me how important they are to you, and I really want your punishment to mean something.” The winged wolf stops pacing, turns to smile at me, and that look on a wolf’s features terrifies me all over again. “In fact, I’m going to include everyone who means anything to you.” He begins to laugh. Let me tell you, if a wolf with a griffon’s wings, and a snake for a tail laughs at you, give up all hope because life is about to become a lot more terrifying. “You were worried about the Daughters of Respite getting you, and I think I might just help you out. I’m going to send you where no one can reach you. I can’t kill you, but I can still get my revenge.”
Marchosias howls, making the pictures on the walls rattle, and even the floorboards creak as the howl continues. My heart beats so fast, I’m afraid it’s going to burst. It doesn’t help when the walls tear themselves apart, pictures begin to fly about the room in a wind only they can feel, and even the floor drops away in pieces. The chair I’m sitting on drops out from beneath me, and I can feel Areth’s tiny hands gripping my shirt as we get spun about. I see the other four women tumbling around me, and I realize that Marchosias is the center of the maelstrom. In the distance I can barely make out other forms, caught up in the demon’s storm. The wolf-like beast continues to howl, and Arethusa is flung away from me, swallowed into the maelstrom.
Brooke, Lisa, Becky, and Ondine grow smaller as they’re sent away from me. Growing dizzy I feel a different darkness begin to consume me, and despite my best efforts, I pass out.