by E. M. Hardy
Ananya didn’t bother hiding her sigh of relief or the bright smile that came up afterward. “Yeah! I’ll be free for the foreseeable future.” She dug into her purse, waving out a few sheaves of slightly-crumpled paper. “I’ll be depending on government handouts for some time while I look for another job, after all.”
Ananya wore a grin of triumph as she continued holding the papers—a grin that quickly morphed into open-mouthed horror as she realized that announcing her recent layoff might not leave the most positive of impressions.
“Haha. Yeah. That. Haha. Oh! Would you mind exchanging contact details? That’ll make it easier for us to… you know, coordinate and stuff.”
“Sure thing, Ananya. Let me just open up tethering and… got it. Broadcasting the handshake now.” He leaned in closer, whispering into her ears. “It’s g.olson921.”
Ananya sighed, then startled and stiffened before stepping back with a nod as a slight tinge of red crept up the dark skin of her neck.
“Got it. Mine is a.thakur146.”
“Got it as well.” Glenn smiled in response, pulling at all the right muscles to simulate the ‘warm smile’ described in the manuals. He wasn’t used to wearing that smile and hoped it conveyed the right emotion. It was, after all, very different from the polite smile he usually wore for work.
“Now I really have to get going, so it’s my turn to apologize. I’ll get in touch with you later this evening to iron out the details for coffee tomorrow. Or probably morning, since I might be occupied the entire night. Are you good with that?”
“Oh… oh? Oh, yeah! Perfectly!” Ananya returned his smile with one of her own, a beaming expression that stretched from cheek to cheek. Glenn nodded once, then walked briskly to his appointment with Clara.
Ynnistoria: Would you like to know something relevant, Glenn?
Huh? Sure, go ahead.
Ynnistoria: This Ananya Thakur you met reeked of despair and disappointment—a veritable treasure trove that multiplies the life points you gain from draining her. If you had Ravaged her… no, if you had Soothed and Indulged her, you would have potentially gained more than eight thousand life points from your tryst.
Ynnistoria: She appeared willing, Glenn. You need only use Empathy to find the right words to charm her before switching to Soothe to further lower her guard and her inhibitions. You could then Shapeshift into your incubus form as you lull her into a lust-riddled stupor.
Glenn continued walking forward, resolutely ignoring the comments his digital assistant made. For her part, Ynnistoria waited and held her tongue.
I… don’t want a repeat of what I did to Kristina. She was a good sport about it, helped me out when I needed it the most, but I don’t want to drug people if I can avoid it.
Ynnistoria: You would not be using pharmaceuticals of any kind, Glenn.
You know what I mean. Magical or medicinal, I want to avoid meddling with her brain. I’m going to meet up with… Clara. Yeah, that’s her name. I’m going to fork over money, and she’ll play along with whatever fetish I have in mind while we have sex.
In this case, I’ve explained that I’ve got a thing for demon-play—matching demon suit and all that. No need for mind-bending fuckery, just cash and a little awkwardness as I get over the whole ‘first time with a hooker’ thing. Everyone leaves happy, and that’s good enough for me.
Ynnistoria: I… understand, Glenn. However, I must point out that you would still be using Soothe to help this Clara be more ‘understanding’ of what will happen once you begin Indulging her. There is still a chance with Ananya, though. You’ll be meeting up with her tomorrow, so you could use the opportunity to—
Look, Ynnistoria. I get it. I know you’re trying to help, but I will tell you right now that I will try my damned best to avoid magicking people into swooning over me for my convenience. If there’s another way—a better, safer way that doesn’t involve mind-fuckery—then I’ll take it.
Ynnistoria: Why not?
Glenn halted, leaning against the corner of a building as he found himself too worked up to walk and engage his digital assistant at the same time. Why was he so against it? It’s not as if he was going to kill them or leave any lasting injuries. Hell, his magical incubus spunk shouldn’t even leave kids. He’d just go in, magic his victims to horniness, make them cum a few dozen times, and then get out once the deed was done.
Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy. He’d just—
The fog around his memories lifted all of a sudden.
He cried for Mother. He cried and he cried and he cried. She was not there… then she was there, shoving a bottle in his face. Her face was wet with tears, her eyes sunken and looking at him with unfiltered disgust as he suckled a plastic teat.
He cried for his Mother’s attention, wanting to show her how smart he was by disassembling the toy car in his hands. She slapped him, called him stupid and destructive, screamed that she never wanted him in the first place, and then pushed him. He fell over, dropping the toy car and falling face-first into its sharp edges. Something red and sticky poured out of his face. Mother soon picked him up after that, dabbing the red liquid away with her sleeves while she frowned.
He cried after Mother was done hurting him, like most nights when she needed to feel better. Her bad mood must have had something to do with this older woman visiting them in the morning. The stranger called Mother her Daughter, while Mother called the stranger Mother. Funny how that worked. Mother’s Mother told her that she would convince Mother’s Father to take her in if only she could somehow get rid of the stain on her reputation. Glenn didn’t know what this stain was, but they screamed some more after that—kept right on screaming until the stranger left. He stifled another cry as Mother called out for him, sounding both worried and angry.
He cried while Annie covered his mouth, Susie held his arms behind him, and Antoinette pinned his legs down. He didn’t cry because they were hurting him, no; the other boys hurt him harder than these three girls combined ever could. He cried because they kept telling him that Mother was something called a slut, that all it took to fuck her was a drink and a few tablets to spread her legs. They teased him for having a dozen fathers, but he was pretty sure he had none. And yet the thought of possibly having a father, maybe even more than one father… it hurt him more than the weak slaps and kicks to his groin.
He cried when Annie told him to go away. He knew that she saw him as nothing more than a piece of meat, a convenient tool to experiment with while she explored her sexuality. She would humiliate him in public during the day and then use him as a sex toy during the night. She would still kick and slap him, threaten to tell her parents that he raped her if he ever breathed a word to anyone else. He still enjoyed her company though… at least until she got tired of playing with him. She needed to ‘grow up’ as she put it, so she told him to get lost. He forced himself to like his newfound freedom, but his chest hurt every time he thought of her.
He cried happy tears when he came home that night, diploma in hand. He was finally done with school, an adult in society’s eyes. Not only could he make Mother happy by letting her hurt him when she felt bad, but he could also make her even happier by giving her money! He would be able to hold a legal job now, one that would hopefully pay more than what he could get for letting a few of the Uncles play with him. He always had trouble pooping after their play-sessions, but the money they gave him afterwards made the hurt go away. His smarter classmates talked about something called Universal Basic Income, about a bill or something passing through the house, but that kind of stuff was worlds above what he could understand.
Only he came home to see Mother lifeless in their bathtub, lying in a pool of angry red water. She was cold and wet and would not move no matter how much he cried that it would be okay if she hit him a few times. That’s when the happy tears turned to sad tears, and he thought about lying down beside Mother and joining her wherever she went
.
That’s when the Mistress came to him.
(Good boys do what they’re told, forget what they’re told to forget. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?)
Glenn shuddered abruptly, shaking the haze out of his head. He remembered that his digital assistant asked him a question, and thought long and hard about his answer.
In the end, he just shrugged and began walking once more. No particular reason, Ynnistoria. I just don’t feel like it.
His digital assistant remained silent then, saying nothing as he double-checked the address and rung the buzzer of the motel room that he rented out for Clara the sex worker.
***
Glenn closed the door, leaving the thoroughly-fucked woman to sleep off the rest of the evening. Or early-morning, considering he was creeping out at three in the morning.
Glenn Olson
Life Points: 3,788/2,200
Glenn hummed in satisfaction. Clara started off with 800 life points, signifying her rather impressive health all things considered. She was hesitant at first, wondering if he was like the creepy, sleazy geeks who just couldn’t be satisfied with their alt-world fantasies—the types that couldn’t get it up unless they lived out their kinks in the real-world.
Her forced professionalism, her courteous smile, her well-masked attempts to hide her curiosity at his strange requests—all these vanished the very minute he got started with her. She was reduced to a molten mess of pants, groans, squeals, and moans. She liked it when he pressed down on a certain spot inside her vaginal canal, when he caressed her and held her eyes like a passionate lover. All these, along with Soothe and Empathy guiding his way, helped him keep her coming all through the night.
He finished up after around four dozen orgasms, squeezing a grand total of 2,788 life points after everything was said and done.
Convert excess life points to experience points? Y/N
Confirmed. 1,588 life points converted to experience points. (5,444/6,000)
Current life points are at 2,200/2,200
Glenn smiled to himself. Searching out partners while he still had a healthy reserve of LP not only made the task far less stressful, but it also left enough excess to gradually fill up his experience meter. Ynnistoria was worried that he wasn’t ‘leveling’ fast enough, but he didn’t care. This way was safer, more productive, and definitely guilt-free.
Funding the Universal Basic Income was at least one good thing to come out from having robots take all the jobs. Most workers in the post-UBI world entered the industry not because they were desperate, but because they genuinely enjoyed their profession or they wanted just a little more luxury in their lives. People didn’t need to fight one another, to scrape and scramble among the lowest of the low, just to get by anymore. You could theoretically live a happy life doing whatever you wanted with UBI support; any extra income just helped make life more comfortable for you.
It was very much unlike during his time. Back then, you sold yourself because you were desperate and needed cash. It was actually what got him through—
(Good boys do what they’re told, forget what they’re told to forget. Bad boys, however, get hurt. You’re not a bad boy, are you?)
Glenn groaned, clutching his head because of an acute case of migraine. He was probably a little tired from his night with Clara. It was nothing a quick meal and a long nap wouldn’t fix.
That’s when he noticed the sleek white-and-blue shapes of police drones zipping through the air, smaller scout fliers leading the way with heavier carriers and their payload of emergency red-and-yellow responder drones following close behind. And right after them came the ground-bound vans of the human police, their bright blue-and-red lights washing the pavement as their horns blared out a warning for everyone to get the hell out of their way.
That’s also the moment when Glenn realized how empty and deserted the streets were. It was 3 AM, sure, but the roads should have been far livelier and filled with pedestrian traffic. His boss’ warnings soon bubbled up from his memories, a stark reminder of the mysterious crime wave hitting the city.
Ynnistoria, bring up the local news—anything related to violent attacks or the likes.
Ynnistoria: Certainly, Glenn. One moment, please.
Glenn sifted through the influx of feeds coming from reporter drones, wirelessly corralled by the police drones and preventing them from getting too close to the crime scenes. Glenn furrowed his brows as he skimmed the headlines—violent attacks, mysterious corpses, inexplicable rages, surging suicides.
One incident, however, caught his eye. It was that of an immigrant from South Asia found dead in her home. The reporter drones showed footage of a covered body being pulled out of her apartment. One limp arm dangled from the stretcher, black and desiccated. He was just about to dismiss the feed to check up on other crime reports when the woman’s name scrolled quickly by.
Ananya Thakur, daughter of Pradish Thakur and Miriam Jameson.
Glenn never felt anything from hearing how his co-workers died. He never actually met them, just their virtual avatars. They didn’t even socialize since they were often stuck in their virtual cubicles, logging off after work. He’d pop in, do his time, then pop out. Lee probably spent more time with them than he ever did.
Ananya, however, was a different thing altogether. He was just talking to the charmingly awkward woman a scant few hours ago. He was even looking forward to going on his first real date since… since forever.
And now she was dead.
Ynnistoria: If I may say something, Glenn?
What? Sure… sure, go ahead. What did you want to say?
Ynnistoria: Ananya’s corpse looked like it dried unnaturally quickly, as if all the fluids inside her were drained in an instant. That is not the case, though. The blackness of her skin, the way it tightened around her bones while the muscles seemed to disappear… all those are the typical signs of a Ravage victim.
Ravage? As in rape? Ynnistoria, a rape victim doesn’t—
Ynnistoria: No, Glenn, not ravage as in regular sexual assault conducted by one human against another. Ravage as in a Lust Demon forcefully draining all her lifeforce through rape… after paralyzing her with Dream Cage to keep her still while she slept, of course.
Are you… are you saying that there are other Incubi like myself out there?
Ynnistoria: Yes. And not just Incubi—fully-fledged Lust Demons that can shapeshift between their male and female Succubi forms. There are most likely other demons as well. Terror, Sloth, Malice, Gloom… the lower demons slipping through into this plane. I don’t think the tear between our worlds is wide enough to allow the higher demons through, but—
ImmerCorp Anti-Malware Shield has detected anomalous behavior! Please wait a moment while we clear that up for you!
Ynnistoria: Blessed machine! I’m trying to help your clueless master out here! Everything I say is relevant to his—
… … … !!! … … … … … … …
ImmerCorp Anti-Malware scan completed! We found [1] issue, and have automatically treated the infected file for you!
“Uh… Ynnistoria? Are you okay? Talk to me, buddy.”
Ynnistoria: Yes, Glenn? How may I help you?
Glenn thinned his lips at Ynnistoria’s flat, lifeless reply. Her abrupt shifts in tone confirmed his long-standing suspicions that she was constrained in her ability to explain things to him. It also looked like the safeguards in his implant were keeping her in check somehow, as evidenced by his implant software acting up whenever she crossed some vague, scripted line.
Lines that he could, just maybe, prod a little to give Ynnistoria more room to work around with.
He paused, deciding to play it safe instead of walking out alone. He called in a transport, a cheap automated land-based car that would drive him back home to his apartment. He stopped just outside a 24-hour c
onvenience store, taking shelter under its bright lights as he formulated his thoughts.
“Ynnistoria, what can you tell me about demons? Or at least the demons you are familiar with.”
He could almost feel her joy through his implant—joy that she quickly quashed as she took on the pleasant default voice pattern of a digital assistant.
Ynnistoria: Certainly, Glenn. It would be my pleasure. Let’s start with ☹◆
