Author's Notes:

'A Dark Heart' is my entry for Literotica's Hallowe'en Story Contest 2017.

It was given a little polishing on 2024.01.12 for publishing on Amazon and refreshing on Literotica.

All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.

********

A Dark Heart

********

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Nate asked himself.

That was a loaded question. Personally, he could think of a number of things. But what was most pertinent in his current situation was his inability to find a woman who wasn't poison for his soul.

His breakup with Meghan a little over two weeks ago was just the latest tortuous ending in his string of doomed relationships.

Each one had begun with optimism and ended in emotional pain and vicious drama.

He didn't get it. None of his previous girlfriends seemed to match a type. He'd tried to prevent himself from falling into a pattern of dating the same kind of girl as he'd seen that self-destructive behavior in his friends.

Some of the ladies he'd tried to have a relationship with had been outgoing, while others were shy. He'd dated sporty women, couch potatoes, hell-raising women, and once a devout believer. While they'd all presented different personality types initially, he always discovered their demonic side by the end. He was seriously beginning to think the transformation of these women was due to something he was doing. Maybe they were all wonderful women, and he somehow drove them to commit mean and hurtful acts against him after a time. But exactly how he was doing it was a complete fucking mystery to him!

His buddies were no help. He'd asked them to protect him from dating poorly, and the last several girlfriends had gotten their seal of approval. Then, they all expressed their surprise when those relationships went sour as each one did. One of his friends had actually slept with three of his girlfriends while he was dating them. Another friend suggested that, being a black man, Nate should stick with his own kind. Needless to say, neither of those guys remained his friends.

Nate wasn't a bad guy. He was often called a really nice guy. All his previous girlfriends had remarked upon this fact... at the beginning. Some had actually noted it as the reason they decided to sleep around. In one case, her excuse had been that he was so much of a nice guy he needed to be punished. He seriously couldn't follow that logic, but maybe that meant he was too nice?

Nate wasn't ugly. He was actually a handsome man. The consistent female attention he received, plus the number of girlfriends he'd had, proved that he was at least attractive enough to get a date. He stood five-foot-eleven and was reasonably fit. He had muscles where they needed to be, and he didn't have fat where it was least welcome. He was reasonably well endowed and skilled, if not terribly adventurous when it came to sex. The one thing his ex-girlfriends had universally agreed upon was that he was good in bed. At least five exes had returned for booty calls during times when he was available, and they were in a dry spell. The fact that he didn't turn them away for those brief interludes was probably a black mark on him.

He was smart, articulate, and personable. He could tell a joke or two and had enough charm to initiate relationships, but something inevitably went wrong, and every relationship imploded badly.

So he'd made himself a vow. He was taking a hiatus from dating to give his heart time to heal and himself time to reflect upon the mistakes he'd made. While he had an active social life, he began avoiding going out with his buddies to clubs or any venue where there was a greater than even chance of meeting women who were looking for a relationship, even just an overnight one.

He'd managed to avoid these dating situations for a little over two weeks. He'd even turned down booty calls from two of his exes this past week. He was rather proud of that, though his buddies thought he was nuts as the ladies in question were hot... if unbalanced.

For all his moral fortitude, he'd been feeling a little run down. During their last pub night, one of his more envious friends remarked that this was the first dry spell he'd ever seen Nate go through, even if it was self-inflicted, and maybe he was experiencing withdrawal. That had caused a lot of laughter in the group. For Nate, he just worried that it might be true. Perhaps he was a sex addict.

When he wasn't failing in relationships, he worked as a copywriter at an ad agency and really enjoyed his job. It let him be creative and paid him reasonably well because he was actually good at it. Outside work, he was an avid cyclist and played in an amateur baseball league.

Being late October, the weather turned crappy, and having refused each and every invitation to a slew of Hallowe'en parties, or hookup parties as he saw them, he chose this particular holiday to fall back on another favorite pastime of his, mooching around in one of New York City's many art galleries. He could spend hours walking from room to room, drinking in the paintings and sculptures, feeding his own creative juices. He found these peaceful sojourns helped focus his spirit and inspire his writing.

This time, he would be walking the floors with his best and only female friend. He'd known Jo Hart for a long time. They'd originally met during their first year in college. He thought she was witty, and she was impressed when he traded banter with her but didn't try to hit on her. They discovered they shared the same sense of humor, and a friendship was born. After graduation, she'd helped him get his job at the company that hired her. They even managed to be assigned to the same team.

She was the one woman he'd managed to maintain a healthy relationship with. She was blond, petite but curvy, and very pretty with a sunny disposition.

She typically drew appreciative looks from other art gallery viewers but always seemed unaware of their attention. One thing that might have helped make Jo the perfect female companion for Nate was that she was gay. She felt no sexual attraction to him, and he cherished her friendship. She was in a long-term relationship with a lovely brunette named Bev, and Nate was envious of that.

When she joined Nate on his gallery tours, she'd bring a sketchpad and practice her art. She was a gifted artist. Combined with his writing talent, they were a fantastic team at work.

Today, the gallery he'd chosen was celebrating Hallowe'en with a special exhibit of sculptures created by a new artist from England. Her work had been playfully advertised as a good match for the holiday. Nate was interested in seeing what all the fuss in the papers was about, as the artist was generating quite a lot of buzz in the art community. He'd seen a picture of one of her pieces and found it intriguing. The flat nature of the newspaper photo couldn't do her art justice, so he'd bought tickets to the exhibit to see them in person.

Jo wasn't a big fan of sculpture, but her girlfriend was on a business trip, and Nate paid for the ticket, so she tagged along. She'd mentioned to him that she'd heard the artist was quite reclusive and might be making an appearance.

After they arrived at the gallery and checked their coats, Nate and Jo presented their tickets and were directed to the entrance of the presentation gallery, where they showed their tickets again and went inside.

As they walked between the pieces, Nate examined them from all sides. The theme seemed to be pain and horror. It was perfect for a Hallowe'en exhibition! The medium was small steel plates roughly cut by a plasma torch and welded into semi-abstract double-sized human forms, all of which appeared to be screaming in agony due to horrific injuries.

Jo looked at Nate with raised eyebrows. Nate grinned at her.

"Not exactly a lighthearted, whimsical collection, but it suits the holiday!" Nate said, and all Jo could do was shake her head.

She spotted something far less... gruesome to look at and wandered off as Nate continued to walk amongst the monuments to suffering. He was passing by one and slowed to study it casually as he did. A male figure seemingly pulling his own heart from his chest. The heart wasn't red but painted the darkest black. He stopped dead as his eyes slowly widened. He was struck by a feeling of affinity with the sculpture. He couldn't look away as he felt he was looking at... himself.

"Ah! You feel it, don't you!"

Nate twitched from his paralysis and turned to look up slightly into stunningly pale grey eyes. They were all he could see at first as they seemed to bore into his soul. Then, the rest of the woman's features came into focus. Her large eyes dominated her face, but she had a slim nose above lips that were just a little thin but emphasized with black lipstick. The dark color made her white teeth gleam as she smiled broadly at him. Her eyes were roaming his body, so he took that as an invitation to check her out as well. Jet black, straight hair cascaded down over her shoulders and reached her waist, a lot of silky hair! With her height, she had a slim build and small breasts, clearly defined by the tight black halterneck top she wore. He could clearly see the impression of her nipple rings... and the chain between them. Her taut stomach was exposed with jewelry piercing her belly button. Skin-tight black leather pants hugged her long, slim legs and ended in her pointed black leather boots. Her skin was palest pink, made all the lighter by her choice of color palette. Black and dark grey eye shadow and lipstick would have presented an almost Goth appearance if it wasn't for the contemporary styling of her clothing.

He couldn't gauge her age at all. She had smooth, young-looking skin but carried an air of maturity. It was baffling.

She reached out a slim hand, black polish on her relatively short nails. Somehow, he'd been expecting talons, though she did wear several sharp-looking silver rings on her long fingers. He automatically took the hand in his, careful of the rings.

"It's a pleasure to meet people who truly connect with my art." Her British accent was wonderful, hinting at private boarding schools and aristocratic society. Again, he was perplexed by the sensation of age conflicting with her youthful appearance and energy.

"Oh!" he exclaimed gently, just now realizing who she was.

"Yes, I am she. The one with the tortured visions. Maker of all of this exquisite pain. Marquise Oletha Thanemark. If you wish, you may call me 'O', as you already have!" she said with a delighted grin.

Nate was struggling to keep up with her energy. "Nate. Nathan Walker." Something she'd said sunk in. "Exquisite pain?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded as her eyes roamed his body once more. "Yes, the... giving and receiving of the sensation can produce the most delicious levels of excitement, relieving the tedium of mere existence."

He smiled uneasily. "I've never been a big fan of receiving pain." His eyes were drawn back to the sculpture.

She cocked her head as she gave him a coy smile. "More of a giver, then?"

He went to deny it, but his eyes were still on the sculpture. "Maybe..." he murmured.

"You're not talking about physical pain, though, are you," Oletha suggested quietly.

Once more, Nate was jolted from a frozen state. The personal nature of the question from this total stranger threw his equilibrium off. He realized she still had his hand in hers and showed no sign of releasing him. The grip wasn't painful, but it was firm.

Still, he felt something akin to a compulsion to answer. "No, mental pain seems to be my specialty."

She gave him a doubtful expression. "Odd, you seem to be built for pleasure."

His eyes snapped back to hers as he snorted in surprised amusement. He grinned at Oletha and was also presented with a flash of teeth.

"Bold," he said, and she nodded.

"There is no other way to live," she said definitively.

He nodded in appreciation of her philosophy.

Seemingly, on impulse, she leaned closer and inhaled deeply. He raised an eyebrow at this as he knew he didn't smell bad but didn't wear cologne. She looked at him curiously, and he looked back in question. Her eyes grew wide.

"Oh my! You don't... know, do you!" she exclaimed quietly in amazement.

He grinned crookedly at her. "How should I answer that question?"

"Oh, this is perfect! It's so rare to be surprised! I need to show you something!" she gasped and moved to the side of the room, tugging his hand. He had no choice but to follow. He glanced back and spotted Jo talking to a tall, gorgeous black woman who was smiling at her and nodding. He realized she'd be okay for a bit.

They approached an exit on the far side of the gallery, but he saw the rooms beyond were identified as off-limits, restricted to staff. One of the museum guards intercepted them at the velvet rope, but Oletha leaned in to whisper something to him. He smiled at her and opened the barrier for them. They slipped inside, and Nate saw the guard had a strange, distracted look in his eyes, but they were past before he could get a better look. They moved through two fairly empty rooms, each minimally lit for safe passage, before reaching the entrance to a third gallery.

This entrance was hidden behind a thick black curtain. Next to this was a stool with a small basket on top. Oletha finally released his hand as she removed her slim phone from her back pocket and placed it in the basket. She looked at him until he did the same with his. She held the curtain open and led them inside. There, she touched a control on the wall, and the lights came up slowly until he could see the paintings. The walls were filled with them.

Oletha gestured for him to go ahead. She touched the curtain and whispered something he didn't catch. He looked at her curiously, then walked along the wall, examining and appreciating the art as he went. The paintings were old and exquisite. The subject matter in them seemed to be uniform amongst them all. Most showed an intimate bedroom scene, but the participants weren't wholly human.

Here, a human male was stretched out on his bed with his arms flung over his eyes as a winged female with fangs and a tail rode his erection with her head thrown back and her long tongue sticking out in ecstasy.

The next showed a Rubenesque blonde with long flowing white hair writhing on a bed under the body of a dark figure with black wings and a ridiculously long penis penetrating her from two feet away.

Most of the paintings showed the humans at rest and being sexually tormented by these creatures, many very human-looking themselves but sometimes more animalistic.

He came upon a plaque. It read:

Mythology: A Study in Sexual Repression through the Ages.

Below the title was a second line, which read:

Presented by Give-Borrow-Exchange-Change Foundation.

Oletha walked with him down the hall as he took in the paintings. "I work with the foundation. I decided these pieces needed to be seen again. Many haven't been publicly viewed for hundreds of years."

He nodded as he admired the technique and skill of the artists at painting such fanciful images. "They are beautifully done. Thank you for showing me."

She nodded with a mysterious smile on her lips. "This is a special gallery. No windows. No cameras or recording devices of any kind are allowed in here. Completely private. We won't be disturbed in here."

His eyebrow went up as he smiled faintly at the implication in her words. "Other than appreciating these imaginative paintings, what intentions did you have for bringing me here?" he asked carefully. This situation reminded him of his personal promise to give himself time to heal before entering into another relationship or accepting another casual affair.

She smiled widely at him. "Nothing less than your complete illumination!" He looked at her nervously, and she laughed gently. "Oh my, you are precious! It won't hurt at all, and I believe you will be very happy with the result. Let's sit and talk."

She guided him to a long, cushioned bench in the middle of the gallery and patted the seat as she sat. He joined her on the bench and looked into her eyes.

"We start simply with a few questions. Based on how you reacted to my sculpture A Dark Heart, the one you stopped at, you've experienced a failed relationship or two." She tilted her head, waiting for his answer.

He nodded. "Every relationship I've been in has failed." He was surprised to hear himself confessing this, but she didn't judge him. Instead, she just nodded like it was a given, and he frowned slightly.

She leaned forward to look into his eyes. "In each of these relationships, the Honeymoon phase began with an immediate physical attraction. The sex was consistently good and fulfilling, but your partners began to exhibit changes in their personalities. They became increasingly jealous, spiteful, bitter, and sometimes even violent until, finally, you had to break up with them. You were always the one to end the relationships as well."

Nate was openly gaping at the woman before him in shock. "How... how could you possibly know that?" he asked quietly.

She smiled compassionately and stroked his cheek with her palm. "Because we're not meant to have relationships with them."

"What?" he asked, completely losing track of what she was saying.

She sighed as if dealing with a slow student and gestured to the paintings. "What are the common elements in all of the art in this room?"

He looked and saw what he saw before. "Men and women having sex with monsters."

"No! Not monsters. Succubi and Incubi," she corrected him.

He looked back in confusion. What was the difference?

"What does the word monster suggest to you?" she asked.

"Ah... malevolence, ill intent, a bad creature?" he suggested.

"Can Humans be those things?" she said, tilting her head.

He thought about that. "Okay, sure, but—"

"So Humans can be classified as monsters too," she pressed the point.

He sighed as he nodded. "Sure, I concede the point. So, the common theme is men and women having sex with Succubi and Incubi."

"Having sex. Not forming relationships with them," Oletha said slowly, and he blinked at her.

He now understood what she was implying, but it made no sense. "I'm a man."

"You're male," she corrected.

"I'm a human male!" he barked and stood. He wasn't sure why he was so upset. Suddenly, he didn't want to be in this gallery anymore. He especially didn't want to be with this crazy woman in this secluded room. He turned and marched back to the black curtain and swiped his hand across its surface, but the opening wasn't evident. He struck it again and again in both directions but with no luck. In frustration, he went to the left side, but it seemed to be secured to the wall all the way down. He was stunned to find the bottom was attached, too. He tried to get a grip on the fabric to pull it up and it slipped away from his fingers. He stopped and stared at the black substance that looked like fabric but felt more like fur and didn't behave like a curtain at all.

He turned back to face Oletha. "How do I leave?"

She smiled at him. "The moment you accept what you are, the curtain will let you pass."

"What? What are you talking about? I know exactly what I am. This is stupid! I'm a man—A HUMAN MAN!" he barked.

"Why are you so threatened by this? You are fascinating! How do you not know what you are?" Oletha smiled widely at him like he was most entertaining.

"Open this curtain!" he insisted.

"Open it yourself," she said with a grin.

He marched back to glare down at her.

"Are you ready to be a giver of pain?" she said, smiling up at him.

He rocked back and glanced at the curtain, then back to her. "Is that what this is all about? You wanted to push my buttons until you provoked a violent response?"

Her smile didn't fade one iota. "Not at all. You're the one who seems to be overreacting about a simple concept. Are you even aware of the strength of your reactions?" She stared at him like some kind of interesting science experiment. She patted the bench next to her again. "Please sit."

With a frustrated glare back at the seemingly impenetrable curtain, he plunked himself down with a huff.

She smiled gently at him. "I'd like to do a simple experiment which I think we both will find very pleasant."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her suspiciously.

"I promise you will like it," she said.

He considered her, then nodded reluctantly.

"Kiss me."

He blinked. "That's the experiment?" She nodded. "What's it supposed to prove?"

"Before we kiss, I want you to recall what it felt like to kiss your most recent girlfriend. It felt good, right?" she asked.

He was a little weirded out talking about them like this, but he nodded.

She nodded and leaned forward with her eyes closed and lips positioned for a kiss.

Still suspicious, he also leaned in, pressing his mouth to hers. Then they were kissing. The chaste kiss deepened, and tongues got involved.

His technique felt familiar. What was new was the waves of pleasure passing between them, almost like... a feedback loop. He felt her pleasure, and she felt his.

The kiss went on, and his hands were on her body as hers groped his.

The unreal intensity finally sank through to his rational mind, and he pushed back from the kiss in shock.

She moaned in protest and then gasped for breath as he tried to catch his own.

"What... what the hell... was that?" he exclaimed.

Her eyes were almost glowing as she stared hungrily at his mouth. "That, dear Nate... was better... than I expected! The synchronizing... of our pleasure was expected... but not the intensity! I admit it has been a very long time since I've shared a kiss with one of your kind—"

"Oh, come on! You're not still trying to convince me of that." He gestured to the paintings in a wide sweep of his arm. "That's all make-believe! Imagination!"

She was smiling at him again. "Yes, of course it is. It's necessary to throw off the scent. Those images are very misleading as they were designed to be. This... this is real."

Nate watched in shock as the light in front of Oletha shimmered like a falling curtain of glitter, starting from the top of her head and ending at the soles of her feet. The... being he now faced was no longer human.

She still bore a resemblance to the tall beauty. Long, jet-black hair still hung down to her waist, but it was thicker now, and small black horns parted the hair at her temples. The tips of her pointed white ears also poked through her hair on either side of her head, upwards and back. Pale grey eyes (maybe a little larger now) twinkled with amusement at his reaction. Her lips were still black but not from lipstick. And her skin! It shimmered iridescently, a pearly white with black stripes in random places. The asymmetry of her markings was jarring. Then he realized he was seeing those stripes because she was no longer wearing clothes! Her small breasts had become maybe just a little larger, but the piercings and the chain between them was still there.

Suddenly realizing he was sitting next to someone clearly not human, Nate jumped to his feet and stumbled back. "Wh-what are you?"

She smiled and pointed to the paintings. "Same as you."

Nate found himself against the black curtain, struggling to find the opening.

"Nate. Nate, dear, it's not going to open. Talk to me." Oletha's voice said close behind him. He turned around, leaning back against the curtain, which was surprisingly solid. It almost felt like he was leaning back against the side of some enormous beast.

But there in front of him was the most startling vision of all, in all her shimmering, naked glory.

"Happy Hallowe'en?" he asked weakly, and she shook her head with a grin.

"Trick?" he tried again.

The grin widened into a bright smile of white teeth, and he sagged. "It can't be real."

"You don't trust your eyes? How about your hands?" she said as she pulled his hand to her breast. He gasped at the softness of her skin and the stiffness of her nipple against his palm.

"You should know something else, Nate. We don't show ourselves to Humans. Much too dangerous for both parties." She gestured to the paintings. "We promote the idea that our kind are myths and legends, make-believe. We hide in plain sight behind disguises, looking like them. We can't tell them about us. It's forbidden by our law, and the penalty for exposing our true nature is death. Our kind has almost been hunted out of existence. Humans kill what they don't understand. Vicious beasts."

"How come you keep saying that! Look at me! I'm human!" he exclaimed.

"No, you look Human, but then so did I until I dropped my glamor. You're wearing one, too, but you aren't aware of it for some reason! I'd love to know why!"

"Glamor?" he moaned.

"A spell bonded to us when we're newborns which changes with us as we grow, allowing us to hide our true selves. To disguise ourselves as Humans." She was sliding his hand from side to side across her chest, making him feel both of her tits and moaning as she did it. She was slowly drawing him back to the bench and they sat once more.

"Maybe this is my true self!" he said, gesturing to his face.

"If it was, you wouldn't smell like an Incubus," she purred.

"Smell?"

She smiled as she leaned in close to press her tits against his chest. Her lips nibbled on his earlobe then she whispered in his ear. "Humans are practically scent blind. Breathe deep. Tell me what you detect."

Trembling, Nate closed his eyes and inhaled her subtle but spicy perfume, once more picking up the oddest impression of age. Not of decay or staleness but... seasoned strength. He pushed that aside. Scents.

"The warm spice of your perfume. Earl Grey tea and... scones? The sweetness of shortbread cookies. Roses? Newspaper. Leather..." His eyes opened, and he saw her pleased smile. "What?"

"I don't wear perfume. We can't due to the sensitivity of our sense of smell. The warm spice is our natural scent. You also picked up my breakfast and afternoon snack. I checked the performance of my stock portfolio with a newspaper at breakfast. I was presented with roses when I arrived at the gallery." She glanced down. "We're sitting on a worn leather bench."

He blinked at her. "That... it doesn't mean I'm not human if I smelled those things."

She smiled and tilted her head again, a gesture beginning to annoy Nate as he picked up that it meant she thought he was being simple-minded. "Not in itself. But it does mean your sense of smell far exceeds that of a Human."

He trembled with... what, frustration? Anger? No. It felt more like... fear! Almost a compulsion to stop, to avoid looking or questioning. It wasn't a rational response, but it was strong!

"One more try—"

"NO!" he shouted and tried to push her away, but her strength was daunting. She pushed him down on the bench and pinned him there with her naked body. He gasped as that felt very good, but he still struggled to free himself. She took his face between her hands and looked deeply into his eyes.

He felt himself falling into her pale grey eyes and then the sensation of floating. He felt far more relaxed now, and her body felt sooooo good.

"Yes, it feels good, doesn't it! We're sharing our perceptions. You feel what I feel, and I feel what you do," Oletha purred.

"It's... good," he sighed.

"Yes. I'm going to activate my glamor so you can feel that happening," she said.

A spike of fear shot through him, and he felt her frown. There was a distinct and odd... transition. That was the only way he could describe it. One state to another. He felt a dimming of his perception of her, as if there was a thin sheet of plastic wrap between them. When his attention returned, he felt her examining him with a frightening intensity.

"Someone has placed a compulsion spell on you. A very strong one. Curiouser and curiouser. It matters not. I will not be denied now." He felt her resolve strengthen and gasped at how tightly bound he was to her mind! This was... he wanted to say impossible, but she'd already broken that concept for him.

"Here we go, Nate. Brace for impact," she said with a grin and... TRANSITION!

A raw terror ripped through him, and he screamed. He heard Oletha shriek, but her will would not be denied. He felt her and his... being, trip over into... other. His mind slipped away as the intensity was too much.

An undefinable unit of time later, he became aware of sound. "Nate? Nathan, dear?"

He moaned as everything felt... wrong. Too much. Too loud. Too hot. Too bright. Too soft. Too hard.

Lips pressed against his, and he moaned again because it felt too good! His eyes opened, and he was on his back on the floor, looking up into pale grey eyes. Delighted and excited eyes.

"What happened? I- I feel... hungover. Everything is too sensitive!" he said with a wince.

"You deactivated your glamor. You are finally perceiving the world as you should. As your true self!" she said with a trembling voice.

He shook his head as that made no sense to him.

She grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. She kept holding his hands to stabilize him, and he froze as he looked down at them. Where her skin was a shimmering pearly white with black stripes, his was now an inky black with bright silver... freckles? They varied in size from pinprick to no larger than the end of a pencil eraser.

"My starry sky," Oletha purred in awe, her eyes wide with wonder. "I've never seen coloration like yours before! It's beautiful!"

He yanked his hands from hers and lurched back a few steps as the pressure built in his head.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?" he roared, and the room shook, the paintings bouncing and shifting on their mounts. A few fell to the floor. For the first time, a flash of fear showed in her eyes, then astonished wonder.

There was a ripping sound and a terrible pain from his back as broad, leathery wings stretched out through the tatters of his shirt. He looked over his shoulder in shock at his new limbs, as that's what they felt like. They ached as he stretched them out for the first time. The wingspan had to be 13 to 15 feet at least, tip to tip. A tremor ran through his muscles as he relaxed the wings, pulling them into a resting position behind him. God, they ached so much! He wouldn't be flying anywhere with these any time soon.

He looked down and saw his new, larger thighs and calves pushing through the split fabric of his pants.

Lifting his hands, he saw deadly black talons gleaming from his fingertips. At his gasp of shock, the talons slowly retracted until his fingertips were blunt once more. He looked at his feet, and his shoes had been punctured by the talons there.

Nate took a grip on his shirt at his chest and pulled it from his body with a quick tug and rip. He kicked off the loose shoes and pushed his pants and underwear down to kick them off. His underwear was the one article of clothing not ripped. Now, he was naked, but he didn't feel cold at all in the cool room.

He turned a glare toward the Succubus standing before him, but she was staring at his crotch. Almost afraid to look, he dropped his eyes and saw what was holding her attention.

Bigger. Definitely that. Black. No silver freckles there. Oddly ridged and flared. Not human. The concept truly sunk into his mind as he stared at his new junk. He snorted at how foolish that was. Really, it took his dick to convince him he was no longer human? The wings weren't enough of a clue?

He looked at his hands again. Then, at his arms and down at his chest. It still didn't seem real, but the ache on his back told him it was all too real.

Before this change, his skin had been a very deep brown. He was a black man, but now his skin matched the term too literally. Aside from the silver freckles splashed across it here and there, that is.

"What. Did. You. Do. To. Me?" Nate asked with a calmer but no less intense voice.

"Nothing. I mean, you were blocked from deactivating your glamor, and I pushed you past that, but... this is what you are." She blinked in wonder at him. "Wings. Succubi and Incubi haven't had wings in millennia! How?"

"How the fuck would I know? Listen, I don't want to be this! Change me back!" he barked.

She reeled back as if slapped. Then she got angry. "You don't want to be this? THIS IS PERFECTION!" she yelled, gesturing at him.

"Only in your twisted perception! I never asked for this. I was quite content before you forced this on me," he bit back.

She snorted contemptuously. "Really? Content were you? Poisoning the minds of one innocent Human female after another? Twisting them into corrupted versions of who they were before you entered their lives? That's where you found your contentment?"

It was Nate's turn to reel back. "What... what are you talking about?"

"Succubi and Incubi feed from Humans. We take our sustenance, life energy, from them when we have sex with them. Once. Maybe twice. More than that, and we begin to twist their personalities. Permanently. How many Human females have you distorted irreversibly?"

Nate's mouth was working, but nothing was coming out.

"I just did Humanity a great service, it seems. I stopped a serial corrupter," she said contemptuously. Then she tilted her head again. "Unless you plan on continuing? Like a parasite."

Roaring, Nate launched himself at her, claws out.

She'd been ready for his attack and grabbed his wrists. She twisted, and he was going over her to slam down on his back on the leather bench. The pain in his wings was sharp as they retracted automatically. He was dazed by the pain for a moment. That was all the time she needed to secure his arms and legs to the bench with the chains waiting there.

"Where the fuck did those chains come from? And when did she have time to get them?" he thought as he struggled unsuccessfully to free himself. His aching wings were the only limbs not chained but were folded and trapped beneath him. He looked to the left and saw she was pulling a bottle of something from a leather satchel he hadn't noticed when they'd first arrived in the room.

She smiled as she approached as she saw where he'd been looking. "A good Succubus keeps her tools close by, and you were out for a bit when you first switched." She swung a leg over his torso and sat on him, pressing the heat of her pussy against his relaxed cock, which was currently resting between his legs. "I need to ask you a question. Are you going to get all maudlin or depressed over what you did to those females?"

He tried not to think about how good she felt sitting on him, but his body was beginning to betray him. His cock began to thicken and tried to rise. He focused on the number of women he'd tried to have a meaningful relationship with. As she said, the one-night stands or second-date quickies didn't count, so ignoring the embarrassingly large number of those, he could whittle the number down to... roughly... ten- no, eleven.

Shit. He'd messed up the personalities of eleven women irrevocably. That made him feel terrible... but how was he supposed to know? It wasn't an instant change. It happened gradually, and how could he have expected this?

"I-I feel horrible about what I did—"

"Suicidally bad?" she pressed and pressed physically as well.

Fuck! That felt good! "UUUhhhmm... no... no, there was no reasonable way I could have known it was my fault." He gasped and squirmed under her. The pressure of his cock being forced down was exquisite and excruciating.

She wiggled the bottle between her fingers. "I have poison I could give you if you felt you couldn't live with the guilt. Quite painless and quick."

"NO! NO! I don't want to die!" he exclaimed definitively, and she smiled in satisfaction.

She slid herself down until his cock sprung up to slap against his belly.

"AAAAHHhh!" he gasped.

He looked down and saw she was opening the bottle. He jolted against his restraints.

"WAIT! I SAID I DIDN'T WANT THE POISON!" he yelled desperately.

She paused to look at him with a crooked grin. "I said I had poison. This isn't it."

He was panting as his heart hammered in his chest. "Wh-what is it?"

She tilted his cock, so it pointed straight up and dripped three drops from the bottle onto the thick, ridged head. She used the tip of her pinky finger to spread the cool and slick fluid over the glans. He trembled under her from the bliss.

"This is just a desensitizing lotion. Virgins reach orgasm much too soon," she said wickedly.

He was back to panting, but it had nothing to do with fear anymore. He looked up at Oletha in confusion. "Virgin? I'm not—"

"But you are! As an Incubus. No, I want you to last, as this is a rare treat for me!" She smiled as she considered that. "You're my Hallowe'en treat!"

She released his stiff cock, and it slapped against his stomach once more. She admired the size and shape, running her fingers up and down the shaft.

Nate closed his eyes as his body reacted to her touch. So good!

She suddenly stood and quick-walked to her satchel. Nate watched her go, his eyes fixed on her firm, round ass cheeks. She smiled at him as she looked over her shoulder. Oletha put the bottle in the bag and pulled a tube of lube out. She squirted some of the gel onto her hand as she walked back.

"You're a little bigger than I'm used to in that form." She smiled, and a distant look came to her eyes. "It's been... a very long time since I last played with an Incubus."

"Condom! I- I- Dammit! I'm not carrying any condoms! I wasn't planning on having sex tonight! We can't," he blurted.

She stopped next to the bench and grinned down at him in amusement. "Yes, we can, and yes, we will. I'm... safe. It isn't quite my time to be fertile," she said as she thought of her cycle.

"No, you don't understand. I always wear a condom. I have to," he insisted.

Her eyebrows rose. "Why do you think that?"

He looked really uncomfortable. "Trust me. We can't. Not without a condom."

Grinning widely, she quickly knelt down beside the bench. She looked at him with a playful expression. "What if I just took this big fat cock in my mouth—"

"NO!" he yelped and jolted on the bench.

She looked at him in surprise. "What happened?"

He looked away in shame.

"Talk to me," she said gently.

His eyes returned to her. "I don't... I don't let women do that to me... anymore."

"What happened?" she asked again.

He squirmed under her. "I was young and stupid. This girl and I were fooling around. Just wrestling and shit. She... she got my zipper down and did that. She had an allergic reaction to... my stuff. Immediate. It wasn't pleasant. She ran off, and I never saw her again. Her parents took her and moved away. So, no condom? No sex."

Oletha smiled and tilted her head at Nate as he ground his teeth. "She was a frail Human. They're wrought with genetic weaknesses like that. I believe you'll find that Succubi are a much sturdier species." Her contempt for humans was plainly evident in her voice and expression. Suddenly, he no longer cared if she had a bad reaction.

She stood quickly, swung her leg over his legs again, and sat on his thighs.

"AHHHHH FUCK!" Nate gasped as she stroked his cock with her lubed hand. "Why does that feel so good?" he asked as tremors ran through his body. He felt her shaking, too, and looked into her dazed eyes.

She licked her black lips with her pink tongue and looked down at him. "It's what Succubi and Incubi share. A nervous system synchronization of our sense of touch and the pleasure it brings. This is missing when we have sex with Humans."

Oletha lifted his cock and raised herself up on tip-toe to press the fat head against her wet pussy. She pushed down and felt him opening her up so sweetly. This is what was meant to be! As he sunk deeper inside, the pleasure built until it overwhelmed her control of her leg muscles, and she dropped onto his body, driving him deep inside her.

"OH! OH... fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," she muttered to herself as she tried to recover from the burst of bliss. His cock fit her pussy so well! His ridges and bulges caressed her inner surfaces as they were designed to do. She couldn't recall ever feeling this full or sex feeling this good! "I think I will have to keep you all to myself. This is too good to share!" she sighed.

Nate's mind filled with sensation. Nothing else existed. Sex had never felt like this before! There was the oddest echo effect where he moved, feeling his own pleasure, and then hers would crash through him a split second later in response to his moving. It made him want to move more, but he had very little control over that, chained down as he was.

"No, no, no... we're going slow. I set the pace. We'll make this last all night!" she purred.

She leaned forward and rested her palms on his chest as she rocked her hips, enjoying the sparks passing back and forth between them.

Nate was going insane. It felt so good, but she was being such a tease when there were so many stronger sensations to experience. Besides, he couldn't be here all night! Jo was waiting for him.

"Kiss me!" he begged.

Smiling, Oletha slowly leaned forward over his body, bringing more and more of her skin into contact with his. All that extra surface area in contact meant more delicious sparks passing between them.

When her mouth found his, she kissed him almost desperately, thrusting her tongue into his mouth only to find it wrestling with his equally bold tongue.

She was completely unprepared when he arched his back and flung his wings out, only to wrap them around her to hold her tight against his body. It felt odd to Nate to have a second set of arms, but they reacted and felt like them, so he'd use them. He pushed their ache from his mind as he clung to her as tightly as he could.

"Wha—" she gasped, then her jaw dropped open as Nate used his hips to drive his cock up into her at an almost brutal pace. Their bodies slapped together faster and faster.

"Nate! Sto—Fuck! Wait! Ahhh! Gah—FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUCCCCKKK!!!!!" she babbled as intense spikes of bliss stabbed through them both.

He couldn't have stopped himself had he wanted to. His body was like a runaway train, desperate to reach its destination. He felt her body reacting the same way. Only her pleasure was coming off the rails.

"AAAAAAAHHHH! FFFFUUUUCCCCKKKK! CUM! CCUUUMMMIIINNNGG! NNNNNAAAATTTEEEE, FFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKK MMMMEEEEE!!!" she screamed, overwhelmed by the sudden explosion of pleasure. He gasped as his release raced up, only to crash over his senses.

He held her against his body as tightly as he could with his sore wings and felt his hot cum firing into her again and again.

Oletha's eyes flew wide as she felt him filling her depths with his essence. While she was expecting that, she wasn't expecting the wild magic in his cum or how its energy was explosively spreading outwards from her core to saturate every cell in her body. Succubi and Incubi cannot feed from each other! That was a universal truth, except for this moment, right now, when she was being energized at a level she'd never felt before, and still, he pumped his wild magic into her body. She began to feel oversaturated by the abundance of energy pouring into her.

"Stop! You have... to stop! It's... too much!" she cried weakly as her muscle tone collapsed.

He caught the panic in her voice and roughly pulled free, splashing the final two shots onto her ass.

As they breathed heavily, Nate relaxed his wings, letting them expand outward to rest on the floor. She sagged on his chest and slipped into an exhausted sleep. Her glamor snapped back into place, and he was covered by a fully clothed human. He realized her clothes were part of her glamor!

Nate was wide awake, and his mind was buzzing. He cautiously looked at her and... no allergic reaction. Her exhaustion was a surprise, but thankfully, not such a traumatic effect.

He had so many questions, but Oletha wasn't the question-answering type of woman, as seen by his shackles. So, first things first, the chains needed to go.

He discovered he could just reach the satchel with the clawed finger on his left wing if he stretched it to its fullest extent. He slowly and quietly dragged the bag closer until he could get his shackled left hand into the bag. He encountered a keychain clipped to a ring just inside the lip, so he carefully unclipped it and used his wing once more to lift the keys up so he could look at them. He spotted the cuff key and moved the ring back to his hand. Working from touch alone he finally managed to get the key into the cuff and popped it loose. The freed chains hit the floor, and he froze, but Oletha remained asleep. He transferred the key to his other wing and moved it to his right hand to unlock its cuff. Again, the chain fell with a loud noise, but the woman on his chest didn't react at all. She just continued to breathe deeply.

Moving slowly, he shifted to the side and slid her to the leather surface of the bench as he eased himself off and undid the cuffs on his ankles. Finally, he was standing next to the sleeping woman, free of his restraints. He considered putting the cuffs on her but didn't feel comfortable with the idea.

He looked down at his... alien body, which felt so... comfortable. Even his wings. It all just felt right! This was... who he was.

While he still had many questions, Nate had the answer to one of his biggest. He now knew why all his relationships ended as they had, and it wasn't a happy answer at all. He was the source of their change, and that made him feel ill.

He also understood what it meant. While his heart still longed to find a lifelong mate, it wouldn't—couldn't be with a human woman. He could have sex with them once or twice, and it seemed he needed to do that to feed, but it would never be for love. That hurt.

But there was some relief in his discovery as well. One of the things that troubled him was something his circle of friends actually envied. They'd called him Don Juan, Casanova, and one friend even called him a black Hugh Hefner. He wasn't sure what to make of that last comparison.

To him, his behavior had always seemed like fickleness. He moved from woman to woman like a honeybee to flowers. He'd despised that about himself before, but now he understood. It was the nature of an Incubus. It was how they fed... how he fed!

Still, the longing for a soul mate lingered. Perhaps it was from his upbringing. His adoptive parents were a perfect example of a happily married couple. He probably got this desire from them- He blinked as he wondered if his adopted parents were... no. He smiled as he recalled his mother's favorite Chanel perfume and that awful cologne his dad wore. Definitely human.

He looked back at the sleeping woman on the bench. He supposed a succubus was an option for a life partner, but clearly not this one. She was just too... possessive. Truthfully, she intimidated the fuck out of him. He had her scent, though, so maybe he could find another.

He flexed his wings and shuddered at the pain, so he tucked them back in against his back and sighed in relief as the load reduced considerably. He'd have to exercise them to build their strength up. He wasn't sure how to do that if he had to keep it secret. He believed Oletha's warning that he would be killed if anyone found out. So much for showing up at Hallowe'en parties as his true self!

Taking a deep breath, he turned his mind to more immediate concerns. His next task was to get back to his human disguise. He closed his eyes and recalled the action of tripping the... spell? Shit, magic, that was another hard-to-accept concept.

Ah, there it was. He pushed and felt it snap into place. He looked human again... but naked. He frowned. He looked to Oletha. She obviously knew how to include clothing in the switch, but he wouldn't try to wake her to ask. If the spell was just an illusion, why did his change destroy his clothes? Fuck! He needed answers, but he'd have to wait.

He gathered up the tatters of his clothes and put them back on. He looked like an extra in a post-apocalyptic zombie movie.

Steeling himself, he walked over to the curtain and took a deep breath. This was the last hurdle. What did she say? Ah, right. The curtain would let him pass when he accepted what he was.

Did he? He couldn't deny the fact that he wasn't just a human male anymore. He took a deep breath, placed his palm on the soft surface, and tried to relax.

"I'm an Incubus."

The curtain's rigidity vanished, and he gently swept his hand to the side and stepped through the gap.

His cell phone was still in the basket, so that went into an intact pocket and he made his way through the dim rooms to the velvet rope leading back into the special presentation gallery. Acting like he belonged there, he calmly unhooked the rope to enter and then walked into the room. The presentation hall had much fewer guests now, but those remaining were looking at him in curiosity and amusement. He ignored them and spotted Jo with the attractive model type she'd been talking to before he left with Oletha. He suddenly wondered how long he'd been in there.

The dark-skinned beauty leisurely glanced in his direction and froze as she saw him walking towards them. Her eyes narrowed, and he suddenly got the impression that she and Oletha might have been working together to separate him from Jo. He watched the beauty turn to Jo and say a few words. Then she was striding away on her long legs towards the velvet rope. Well, that answered that question.

He inhaled deeply as she passed and hastened his step as she smelled nothing like a Succubus. Her scent raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He looked back at her and she was giving him a puzzled look as she reached the rope. Her eyes suddenly gleamed oddly in the reflected light of the red exit sign, and he was immediately reminded of a cat's eyes. Another chill ran down his back.

"What the hell happened to your clothes?" Jo asked with an annoyed expression.

His mouth opened then closed with a frown. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He needed to distract her. "What's up with you being all flirty with the hot model?"

Jo gave him a grumpy pout. "I almost had her agree to have a threesome with Bev and me, but you drove her off."

He glanced back over his shoulder. "You were better off without her."

"Are you kidding me? She was totally hot, and it sounded like she was into some pretty freaky shit!" Jo lamented.

Nate felt an uncomfortable twinge. "I'm sure she was," he said distractedly, then shook his head. "Can we leave?"

"Yeah, fine," she sighed.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I wouldn't have guessed that Bev would be into a threesome."

Jo looked away as they walked. "Yes, well... I guess we'll never know now."

They collected their coats and Jo's backpack from the coat check. Nate was grateful for the coat due to his new ventilation. Then he realized he wasn't actually cold. He knew it was chilly, but... he didn't feel it. Troubled by this latest discovery, he waited for Jo to put her art pad back into the backpack and sling it onto her back. They were both lost in thought as they left the building.

Outside, they saw the rain had stopped, but their breath puffed out as steam in the chill night air.

Standing on the top step, they noticed an old woman climbing up towards them. All she was wearing on this chilly October night was an old, worn Slavic peasant dress and an angry scowl. She kept her eyes on Nate as she climbed, ignoring Jo entirely.

When she reached the step below Nate's, the ancient woman stopped to peer closely at him as he looked back with raised eyebrows.

"Shit."

As the grumpy and disappointed old woman climbed back down the stairs, Jo's mouth was open with delighted mirth, and her eyes were almost tearing with suppressed laughter. She covered her mouth with her hands, but a burst of laughter finally escaped.

Nate gave her a dirty look. "Man! Only in New York," he griped.

Dropping her hands, Jo beamed a wide smile at him. "The night is young, and so are we. What shall we do now?"

He opened his jacket to show off his tattered clothes. "Well, I'm in a zombie costume already. Why don't we head over to Jillian's party?"

Jo's eyes widened. "You got an invite to Jillian Barrow's Hallowe'en party, and you dragged me to this crappy art gallery?!? You bastard!"

He cracked a grin, then rolled his eyes with fake weariness. "Okay, fine, you can come along too."

She grabbed his hand and dragged him down to street level to catch a cab, excitement in her eyes.

"Wait, what's your costume?" he asked.

She hooked a thumb towards her backpack. "Starving Artist!"

"Ahhh! Clever."

She did a little curtsy to accept his praise, then continued to wave her arm to attract a cab. As she did, she glanced at him. "Seriously though, how did you get invited to the boss lady's exclusive annual par-tay?"

Nate shrugged. "She liked our work on the Evans campaign and... liked how I fit the khakis I wore on the day we presented it."

Jo's eyes widened, and she burst out with a loud laugh. That seemed to catch the eye of a passing taxi as it screeched to a halt. They jumped in. Glancing at his phone, Nate gave the driver the address of the closest 24/7 drug store, and they screeched away from the curb. He'd give him the address to the party after he'd picked up some protection. He wasn't going to take any chances with frail humans.

Jo leaned in close with a wicked grin. "So tonight with Jillian, are you going for Trick or Treat?"

He looked down at his clothes and thought he'd already had quite enough of Trick.

He also realized he was damn hungry.

"Treat. Definitely treat."