jreezy33
04-19-2012, 08:41 PM
PART I
Brady Thompson parked his car on the street outside “Bowman’s Rare and Used Books” and walked in. The proprietor, Mr. Bowman, absently read the newspaper as Brady walked through the door. As he approached the counter, Mr. Bowman lowered the page and peered at Brady over his glasses, which had slid down his nose.
“Ah, Brady. Good to see you. I was hoping you’d come in.” Mr. Bowman turned away from Brady and inspected the bookshelf behind him, where he kept much of his personal inventory. He scratched his head, scanning the shelves. “Aha!” he exclaimed, grabbing an old, worn book with brown binding. He handed it to Brady. As Brady opened it and leafed through the pages, Mr. Bowman explained: “I got it last week at an estate sale. Old widow, her husband died years ago. Had some mid-19th century American first editions. Some European books from the 17th century. A find, really. But that one there, it isn’t a published book. The name on the inside front cover doesn’t turn up any results on the internet – at least not anything that corresponds to the date entries in there. A journal of some kind. Science, maybe? There’s symbols I don’t recognize. And it’s all written in”
“Latin,” Brady said, interrupting Mr. Bowman.
“Right,” Mr. Bowman answered him, a playful, fatherly look of annoyance on his face. “Which is why I wanted to give it to you. After all, you nearly have your PhD in Latin, and you love rare books. How much more rare can a scientific journal by an unknown author, written in Latin be?”
“How much do you want for this, Mr. Bowman?” Brady asked, unusually quiet.
Mr. Bowman dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Nothing. As unique as it is, I can’t sell it. It’s yours.”
“Great. Thanks.” Brady said, not looking up from the book.
Moments passed. Mr. Bowman spoke to Brady, but he didn’t respond. “Brady? Brady!” Brady startled back into coherence. “Is that all, Brady? Anything else?”
“No. Sorry. Nothing else. Just the journal. See you…later.” Brady walked out of the store. Mr. Bowman rolled his eyes and picked up his paper.
. . .
When he arrived home, Brady sat down at his desk and opened the book and re-read the name: Jacobus Madia Villa, filius. It was an easy translation: Jacob Middleton, Jr. It appeared that the author was English. As he thumbed through the pages, he learned that the author was a bit of a dilettante in many subjects: science (though mostly theories that had since been disproven), mathematics, history, and the supernatural. It was that last subject that interested him the most. It was mostly a debate that Middleton had with himself regarding the existence of different creatures, monsters or beings. Brady eventually came to a section of the book labeled “Succubi”. He turned to his computer and searched the term “succubi”. He was immediately intrigued by what he found. Succubi (plural; the singular is succubus) are mythological, female, demonic creatures that had sex with men in their dreams. From the way the journal is written, the author seemed to believe that succubi were real. Obviously, they sounded plainly mythological. No matter. He’d have to read up on it more later. Now he had to concentrate on the next section of his dissertation.
Several hours later, he could barely keep his eyes open, so he went to bed, being sure to take the journal to bed with him. He checked the clock: 12:45. Fifteen minutes, he thought. Fifteen minutes with my new book, and then sleep. That would give him five hours before he’d have to wake up.
He opened the book and re-read the section on succubi. There were a few pages of overview, then a subsection titled “Succubi of the First Order.” After that were instructions: recite the following in the first hour of the day, then promptly go to sleep.” After that was a long sentence in Latin. What was that? A spell? Brady looked at the alarm clock: 1:20. I guess I’ll give it a shot, he thought. He recited the sentence aloud, closed the book, and turned off his light.
He woke up with his alarm at 6:00, nothing having happened in the night. He grabbed the book and read the incantation again. Of course, he said it correctly. Thinking it through, he smacked his forehead. The first hour of the day is midnight to one, not one to two!
. . .
The day went slowly. The only thing he could think of was the journal. But he had two classes to teach at the university, and papers to grade in the evening. The classes were terribly boring and the papers were from freshmen, and it was all he could do to not toss all the papers is the garbage and give the assignment again. Finally, midnight rolled around. He left his work at his desk and got into bed. He read the “First Order” incantation again and tried to sleep.
He never remembered falling asleep. But he must have, since he woke up at six in the morning when his alarm went off. He was disappointed nothing happened overnight. He didn’t even know what he was expecting. Did he really expect or want some female demon to have sex with him? He tried, unsuccessfully, to put it out of his mind and get ready for the day.
Brady slogged through another interminable day. Fortunately, it was Friday, so he was able to spend most of the day working on his dissertation, since he didn’t have any classes to teach. He went home in the early evening, ate dinner, and relaxed, trying in vain not to think about the journal. He spent the night watching television, and when midnight rolled around, he went to bed. He pulled the book off the night table and opened it to the same section. He read the passage out loud, set the book back on the table, and turned out the light. Soon, he was in a deep sleep.
. . .
Brady stirred, hearing a low, unfamiliar hum fill the room. He didn’t so much hear it audibly, but he perceived it in his head. He opened heavy eyes and propped himself up on his elbows to look around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. He lied back down and closed his eyes. Then, a faint *pop* sounded, as if it was centered in the space above his bed. He opened his eyes and looked around again. Suddenly, the room was filled with a dim, purple light. A shroud of mist formed above him, and when the mist cleared, a nude female with pale, purple skin was sitting atop him, her weight resting on his pelvis, and her knees on either side of his chest.
He was nervous. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, and his hearing was almost overpowered by the thumping of his pulse in his ears. He lied stock-still, struggling for words.
“Wh-wh-who are y-you?” he managed to nervously spit out.
His visitor did not answer right away. She sat on top of him and stared, deep into his eyes. Her eyes seemed to have some sort of inner glow, which made her purple irises dazzling. Brady examined her as she silently sat. She looked human, save for the purple skin and glowing purple eyes. She wasn’t all that attractive, either – at least no more attractive than any girlfriends he’d had in the past. She was full of soft curves with smallish breasts, much like an average young woman would have. However, the weight he felt as she was sitting on him did not seem to fit with her body. She seemed much too light.
She finally spoke. Her voice was delicate, and she spoke barely above a whisper: “My name is Eris. You do not know what you are doing, Brady. You should not have done what you did.”
That didn’t ease his nervousness at all. “I don’t understand. You’re a succubus, right?” She nodded. He continued. “And succubi have sex with men, right?”
She nodded again. “But supernatural beings are not to be trifled with, especially if it is just because you’re horny.”
Brady was embarrassed. He nodded. “So you won’t have sex with me?” Even though he had an erection, he thought he’d be glad if she just left.
“No, I did not say that,” she answered him. “When one of us is summoned, we must complete the task for which we were summoned.” She reached behind her back and touched Brady’s erection, which was pressing between her cheeks. She stroked him, and Brady swore that he felt his erection actually grow. As she lifted herself up and positioned Brady’s cock to her opening, she cautioned him: “After tonight, destroy that book, unless you want to bring about your own destruction.” She held his shaft, the tip just barely inside her pussy. Indeed, it looked like his cock was about an inch longer than he remembered it. He silently nodded, and she lowered herself onto him in one rapid moment.
It was all Brady could do to not immediately orgasm from that one motion. It was unlike anything he’d felt before. He kept his hands by his side as Eris moved up and down on top of him. Within seconds, he knew he’d soon lose control. He was breathing hard, and shortly, he grunted, emptying himself inside her. His vision slowly faded away as Eris grinded on top of him. The intensity was too much for him, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Brady Thompson parked his car on the street outside “Bowman’s Rare and Used Books” and walked in. The proprietor, Mr. Bowman, absently read the newspaper as Brady walked through the door. As he approached the counter, Mr. Bowman lowered the page and peered at Brady over his glasses, which had slid down his nose.
“Ah, Brady. Good to see you. I was hoping you’d come in.” Mr. Bowman turned away from Brady and inspected the bookshelf behind him, where he kept much of his personal inventory. He scratched his head, scanning the shelves. “Aha!” he exclaimed, grabbing an old, worn book with brown binding. He handed it to Brady. As Brady opened it and leafed through the pages, Mr. Bowman explained: “I got it last week at an estate sale. Old widow, her husband died years ago. Had some mid-19th century American first editions. Some European books from the 17th century. A find, really. But that one there, it isn’t a published book. The name on the inside front cover doesn’t turn up any results on the internet – at least not anything that corresponds to the date entries in there. A journal of some kind. Science, maybe? There’s symbols I don’t recognize. And it’s all written in”
“Latin,” Brady said, interrupting Mr. Bowman.
“Right,” Mr. Bowman answered him, a playful, fatherly look of annoyance on his face. “Which is why I wanted to give it to you. After all, you nearly have your PhD in Latin, and you love rare books. How much more rare can a scientific journal by an unknown author, written in Latin be?”
“How much do you want for this, Mr. Bowman?” Brady asked, unusually quiet.
Mr. Bowman dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Nothing. As unique as it is, I can’t sell it. It’s yours.”
“Great. Thanks.” Brady said, not looking up from the book.
Moments passed. Mr. Bowman spoke to Brady, but he didn’t respond. “Brady? Brady!” Brady startled back into coherence. “Is that all, Brady? Anything else?”
“No. Sorry. Nothing else. Just the journal. See you…later.” Brady walked out of the store. Mr. Bowman rolled his eyes and picked up his paper.
. . .
When he arrived home, Brady sat down at his desk and opened the book and re-read the name: Jacobus Madia Villa, filius. It was an easy translation: Jacob Middleton, Jr. It appeared that the author was English. As he thumbed through the pages, he learned that the author was a bit of a dilettante in many subjects: science (though mostly theories that had since been disproven), mathematics, history, and the supernatural. It was that last subject that interested him the most. It was mostly a debate that Middleton had with himself regarding the existence of different creatures, monsters or beings. Brady eventually came to a section of the book labeled “Succubi”. He turned to his computer and searched the term “succubi”. He was immediately intrigued by what he found. Succubi (plural; the singular is succubus) are mythological, female, demonic creatures that had sex with men in their dreams. From the way the journal is written, the author seemed to believe that succubi were real. Obviously, they sounded plainly mythological. No matter. He’d have to read up on it more later. Now he had to concentrate on the next section of his dissertation.
Several hours later, he could barely keep his eyes open, so he went to bed, being sure to take the journal to bed with him. He checked the clock: 12:45. Fifteen minutes, he thought. Fifteen minutes with my new book, and then sleep. That would give him five hours before he’d have to wake up.
He opened the book and re-read the section on succubi. There were a few pages of overview, then a subsection titled “Succubi of the First Order.” After that were instructions: recite the following in the first hour of the day, then promptly go to sleep.” After that was a long sentence in Latin. What was that? A spell? Brady looked at the alarm clock: 1:20. I guess I’ll give it a shot, he thought. He recited the sentence aloud, closed the book, and turned off his light.
He woke up with his alarm at 6:00, nothing having happened in the night. He grabbed the book and read the incantation again. Of course, he said it correctly. Thinking it through, he smacked his forehead. The first hour of the day is midnight to one, not one to two!
. . .
The day went slowly. The only thing he could think of was the journal. But he had two classes to teach at the university, and papers to grade in the evening. The classes were terribly boring and the papers were from freshmen, and it was all he could do to not toss all the papers is the garbage and give the assignment again. Finally, midnight rolled around. He left his work at his desk and got into bed. He read the “First Order” incantation again and tried to sleep.
He never remembered falling asleep. But he must have, since he woke up at six in the morning when his alarm went off. He was disappointed nothing happened overnight. He didn’t even know what he was expecting. Did he really expect or want some female demon to have sex with him? He tried, unsuccessfully, to put it out of his mind and get ready for the day.
Brady slogged through another interminable day. Fortunately, it was Friday, so he was able to spend most of the day working on his dissertation, since he didn’t have any classes to teach. He went home in the early evening, ate dinner, and relaxed, trying in vain not to think about the journal. He spent the night watching television, and when midnight rolled around, he went to bed. He pulled the book off the night table and opened it to the same section. He read the passage out loud, set the book back on the table, and turned out the light. Soon, he was in a deep sleep.
. . .
Brady stirred, hearing a low, unfamiliar hum fill the room. He didn’t so much hear it audibly, but he perceived it in his head. He opened heavy eyes and propped himself up on his elbows to look around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. He lied back down and closed his eyes. Then, a faint *pop* sounded, as if it was centered in the space above his bed. He opened his eyes and looked around again. Suddenly, the room was filled with a dim, purple light. A shroud of mist formed above him, and when the mist cleared, a nude female with pale, purple skin was sitting atop him, her weight resting on his pelvis, and her knees on either side of his chest.
He was nervous. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, and his hearing was almost overpowered by the thumping of his pulse in his ears. He lied stock-still, struggling for words.
“Wh-wh-who are y-you?” he managed to nervously spit out.
His visitor did not answer right away. She sat on top of him and stared, deep into his eyes. Her eyes seemed to have some sort of inner glow, which made her purple irises dazzling. Brady examined her as she silently sat. She looked human, save for the purple skin and glowing purple eyes. She wasn’t all that attractive, either – at least no more attractive than any girlfriends he’d had in the past. She was full of soft curves with smallish breasts, much like an average young woman would have. However, the weight he felt as she was sitting on him did not seem to fit with her body. She seemed much too light.
She finally spoke. Her voice was delicate, and she spoke barely above a whisper: “My name is Eris. You do not know what you are doing, Brady. You should not have done what you did.”
That didn’t ease his nervousness at all. “I don’t understand. You’re a succubus, right?” She nodded. He continued. “And succubi have sex with men, right?”
She nodded again. “But supernatural beings are not to be trifled with, especially if it is just because you’re horny.”
Brady was embarrassed. He nodded. “So you won’t have sex with me?” Even though he had an erection, he thought he’d be glad if she just left.
“No, I did not say that,” she answered him. “When one of us is summoned, we must complete the task for which we were summoned.” She reached behind her back and touched Brady’s erection, which was pressing between her cheeks. She stroked him, and Brady swore that he felt his erection actually grow. As she lifted herself up and positioned Brady’s cock to her opening, she cautioned him: “After tonight, destroy that book, unless you want to bring about your own destruction.” She held his shaft, the tip just barely inside her pussy. Indeed, it looked like his cock was about an inch longer than he remembered it. He silently nodded, and she lowered herself onto him in one rapid moment.
It was all Brady could do to not immediately orgasm from that one motion. It was unlike anything he’d felt before. He kept his hands by his side as Eris moved up and down on top of him. Within seconds, he knew he’d soon lose control. He was breathing hard, and shortly, he grunted, emptying himself inside her. His vision slowly faded away as Eris grinded on top of him. The intensity was too much for him, and he slipped into unconsciousness.