by M. E. Hydra
He felt weird, like he knew it was his body, could feel it was his body, but the commands from his brain to move his arms were just not going anywhere. He still felt like thick smoke was wreathing his face as the girl turned him over with a hungry gleam in her eyes and tore at his clothes until his naked flesh was exposed to the perfumed air.
“Mmm, I think this one will be delicious don't you,” the black-haired girl purred as she sat on Bachman's chest and slid forward until her pussy was almost touching his chin.
The fog was slowly clearing from Bachman's mind. He numbly realised he was lying naked on some soft cushions and there was a gorgeous girl with a dripping wet pussy practically sitting on his face. His befuddled brain was still trying to process that this might not be a good thing when she lifted her crotch up and began to grind it into his face.
“Pump him up so he's nice and juicy,” a soft voice tinkled. Must be the blonde.
The brunette laughed, put the hookah pipe in her mouth and took a deep pull. Bachman's nose was pushed between her soft pussy lips and he smelt her sickly sweet juices. She raised her crotch and before Bachman's startled eyes her labia seemed to puff up and then spread wide, way wider than should be humanly possible. Her cunt descended and covered his mouth and nostrils like a mask.
He was too surprised to take a breath and then realised he couldn't. Her thighs gripped the side of his head tight and his mouth and nose were smothered deep within her flesh.
He tried to thrash his body to escape but the fog in his brain was still stopping the signals from going through. He felt weak and couldn't get any leverage in the soft cushions. He tried again to draw breath and couldn't.
The bitch was suffocating him with her damn cunt.
He looked up past the weighty breasts dangling over him as she put the hookah pipe into her mouth and took a long pull. Her chest expanded as she drew the smoke into her lungs and held it there. Beneath her Bachman struggled to take a breath. His lungs were burning and black spots danced across his eyes.
Then, just as Bachman was on the verge of losing consciousness, he felt the weight relieve slightly as she lifted up a little above him. His body took the cue and his mouth opened to suck in a lungful of life-giving air. But, just as his lungs expanded to take breath, she sat down and smothered him once again. At the same moment she exhaled, or seemed to, except no air passed out through her nose or mouth. Instead Bachman's mouth and airwaves were flooded with a thick cloying perfume. She lifted her body up off him and her pussy pumped more billowing pink smoke into his face.
“Mmm, breathe it in, breathe it in deep.”
Bachman had no choice; he was starved for any breath. The smoke was thick and musky and cloying, like trying to inhale spiced honey. It settled into his lungs and from there he felt a warmth spread out into his bloodstream. It seeped through his body and settled with a tickling sensation in his balls. They started to feel tight and a little itchy.
The girl sat back down on Bachman's face and took another deep pull on the hookah. Again he felt her chest swell above him as she took in the smoke, again he felt her breathe out and again the thick cloying perfume was pumped out through her pussy and into his lungs. The warmth spread throughout his body, but concentrated mainly in his groin where he felt an erection rise and throb.
“I think you're getting nice and ripe,” the girl said teasingly as she ran a soft hand along the twitching flesh of his member.
She got up and sat behind him. His head was cradled in her lap and her legs reached over his shoulders to hold him down. She took long pulls from the hookah and pink smoke billowed up from her pussy, wreathing around Bachman's head and sending out tendrils to toy with his nostrils.
Through the haze he saw the blonde standing astride him. She held another hookah pipe in her hand but instead of putting it into her mouth she fixed Bachman with a sultry glance before inserting the pipe into her vagina. Her body tensed and he heard the hookah bubble furiously as a powerful suction seemed to grip the pipe. Her labia puffed up into soft cushions and as she pulled the pipe out a small puff of pink smoke escaped.
“Mmm, now it's your turn,” she said.
The lips were pumped up way fuller than any human girl's could ever be and warm juices dripped onto Bachman's twitching cock. She sat down until the oozing tip of Bachman's penis rested between her swollen lips. She held herself there for a long, teasing moment.
“I'm going to suck your cock deep into my pussy and pump your balls dry.”
She sat down hard. Bachman gasped as his cock was drawn within and squeezed by the engorged walls of her vagina. The sensation was exquisite. Her walls so soft, warm and tight. So tight. Bachman was experienced enough to normally be able delay the final moment, but as soon as he was engulfed within her fleshy vice the shock of pleasure was too much and he exploded with orgasm like a nervous teenager losing their virginity.
It had to be the freaky fumes the other girl had tried to suffocate him with. Must be a drug of some sort.
No, something wasn't right here. The fog was clearing enough from Bachman's mind to realise the situation was very wrong.
“Hmm, yummy, more please,” the blonde purred, licking her full red lips.
She pressed her knees against his sides, gripping him tight as she straddled him. Her vagina was so heavenly soft against his cock, but beneath the softness he could feel powerful muscles at work. They contracted around his cock and ran up its length in a wave of tender sucking motion. Even after just orgasming his erection showed no signs of softening and incredibly it felt like…
...aah...a second orgasm racked his body, stronger even than the first. His balls tightened as he pumped another load of cum deep into her writhing pussy. No, she was pumping the cum from him not him into her. Her vagina tightened and the sucking sensation grew stronger. He could feel the suction right through his cock and deep within his balls. His cock had never felt such pleasure, but an ache had started in his balls. She really was pumping them dry.
“Ah, more, more,” the blonde moaned.
What the hell were they?
“We're succubi,” the dark-haired girl said, “demons that suck the life out of men. Mr Koontz, our master, obtained us as a gift. As well as giving him pleasure we also serve him in other ways. Amongst those duties is security and that includes little nuisances like yourself. That tingling sensation you can feel in your balls…”
Bachman felt it. A tingling itch that was both pleasurable and bothersome at the same time. On top of him the blonde had slowly started to move up and down. The muscular contractions pulling at his cock became slower, deeper.
“…that's the drug I've been pumping into your lungs. All of your body's resources are being diverted into sperm production and she's going to suck it all out of you. I'm going to feed you to her orgasm by orgasm.”
A deep soft stroke and Bachman fired another load of cum into her hungry vagina. The tingly ache was spreading from his groin and into his lower abdomen.
Above him the blonde moaned in pleasure.
Dimly, Bachman knew he had to throw her off, that she was killing him. His brain still felt shrouded in fog. Feebly he tried to move his arms.
“Relax”, the dark-haired succubus continued. “There are worse ways to go in this line of work. Now breathe…”
She got up and sat back down on his face, her pussy once again covering his mouth and nose in an air-tight mask. He tried to thrash his head out of the way but her thighs gripped him tight, holding him in place. He felt her take another deep pull on the hookah, drawing the smoke within her. He tried to hold his breath. Must keep the perfume–no poison, that's what it was, poison–out of his lungs.
It was no use, his oxygen-starved lungs betrayed him and when he went to draw breath he felt her exhale above him and his lungs were once again flooded with the cloying fumes. His brain disconnected on its own little cloud as he dimly felt a comfortable tingling warmth spread throughout his body, as if the smoke was inundating every p
ore of his being. He had a brief moment of floating bliss before the other girl's vagina gripped his cock in a long, rolling contraction that sucked yet another orgasm from him.
They had him caught in a cycle of exquisite pleasure. He was a conduit between the two girls. The first would pump him full of warm comfort and then the second would suck it out of him, taking a little piece of him with it and leaving him a little colder each time.
Pump. Suck.
Bachman was now past caring, caught in their rhythm of exhalation and inhalation as one succubus fed him to the other. The tingling ache had spread across all of his body now. He felt his skin start to tighten over his chest and his internal organs start to crinkle and crumple up as his traitorous balls pumped all his juices into the demoness's hungry vagina.
Pump. Suck.
It took the succubi a few hours to drain Bachman totally. They liked to take the time to truly savour their meals.
* * * *
“Where was it?”
“Out back. Someone left it for us to find.”
“It's a message from Mr Koontz. He's reminding us of the consequences of taking him too lightly.”
“I don't know what freaks me out more. The fact they turn up all shrivelled like dried raisins, or that they always have that damn smile on their face.”
Pool of the Undine
Stupid dumb cunt, Steven Benchley thought. Stupid blonde bimbo harlot from hell.
He crushed the empty lager can, his sixth, and threw it out into the bracken.
Now he was out of fooking beer as well.
What a shite waste of a weekend this camping trip had been. He could have been watching the footie on the telly in the warm and the dry. Instead he'd thought it a good idea to bring Chelle out for the weekend. Have a bit of a frolic in the ferns and all that.
Of course, being the British summer, it was fooking damp and miserable.
Chelle had moaned like buggery from the moment they'd got here. They'd got into a blazing row over nothing. She'd stormed off back to town and he'd stalked off with a six pack of beer. Now it was getting dark as dusk descended and there were spots of rain in the air with threats of more to come.
Now where was the fooking tent?
Benchley headed up the slope of a nearby hill, but still couldn't find his tent in the deepening gloom. There was no way he was going to find the bugger, he thought. It looked like he was going to be stuck out in the open with the rain pissing down on him.
Why hadn't he stayed at home to watch the footie?
Maybe he could find shelter higher up, he thought. There was plenty of bare rock exposed to the elements. There must be an overhang he could shelter under.
He found something even better. Near the top he found the narrow entrance to what seemed like a small cave.
Finally a bit of luck on this shite Saturday, Benchley thought. At least he could get out of the pissing rain. He stood in the entrance and lit a cigarette. He wished he had another beer.
The rain shower didn't last long and eventually the moon appeared, silvery and full, out of the night sky. It was then Benchley noticed the blue glow emanating from the cave behind him. Curious, he headed deeper inside.
It turned out the cave wasn't quite a full cave. Erosion had taken its toll and worn a natural chimney hole into the ceiling. Through it the moon was clearly visible in the night sky. The glow, a light blue fluorescence, came from the cave walls. This glow was reflected in a deep blue pool that took up most of the cave floor. It was quite a pretty little grotto, Benchley thought. If Chelle managed to cool down enough he'd bring her back here tomorrow. If he could fooking remember where it was.
It would give him shelter tonight anyway. He could find that bastard tent in the morning when the sun was up.
Benchley needed a piss. All those lagers had finally hit his bladder.
At least there was a convenient place, Benchley thought. He wondered how deep the pool was. It looked like a natural well. Better be careful, he thought as he walked up to the edge, it would really top his fooking day if he fooking fell in.
He unzipped his fly and had gripped his dick in his hand when he noticed a small wooden sign on the wall.
'No pissing. Natural spring.'
“Sorry mate,” Benchley chatted to the sign. “When a man's gotta go, he's gotta go.”
He gave a satisfied grunt as his dick released a stream of piss into the pool.
Natural spring. Did that mean this pool was one of those places they bottled all that shite spring water? Well this one was getting a bit of extra flavouring, a little bit of l'eau de Benchley. The thought of all those poncey city types drinking his piss out of a bottle amused Benchley greatly. Served them right for not drinking from a tap like every bugger else.
The stream subsided and Bentley felt the pressure on his bladder lesson. Felt damn good. It wouldn't last too long though. That was the trouble with lager, you spent most of the night pissing it up a wall.
Oh well, more flavouring for the bottled water, Benchley smiled. He did his fly up and had just turned away when he heard someone giggle behind him.
“That tastes nice,” a voice tinkled.
There was a loud splash and before Benchley could react something had gripped him from behind and thrown him backwards into the pool.
What the fook?
The pool had gone from placid stillness to a maelstrom of motion in the blink of an eye. Benchley was churned around right at its heart. His world became a disorientating blur of bubbles and lashing water. Water flooded his mouth and nostrils. He hadn't had a chance to hold his breath before he'd been dragged into the pool and now he felt a burning sensation as his lungs craved air. He panicked as he realised he didn't even know where the surface was as currents span him over and over.
There was someone in here with him. He couldn't see them, but he felt hands grab at his clothes, tugging them from his body.
Benchley thrashed wildly around him, trying to drive his mystery assailant off. His limbs connected with nothing. He swore he heard silvery laughter.
I'm going to drown in this pissing pool, Benchley thought with alarm. What a fooking embarrassment.
Then, just as the world started to go black, his body was propelled out of the water and back to the edge of the pool. Coughing, Benchley lay on his side and retched out the water that had got caught in his throat before grabbing great gulps of life-giving air.
Then he noticed something odd about the surface he was lying on. It wasn't hard or rocky. Instead it felt soft and yielded a little to his touch, like rubber or elastic. Or jelly. Still coughing, Benchley tried to get to his feet only to feel the floor lurch and sway unsteadily beneath him. Whatever the surface was it was also covered in a small layer of water and very slippery. Amidst the swaying motion Benchley immediately lost his balance and tumbled onto his back. Beneath him the floor rocked and swayed before eventually settling into stillness.
The motion was actually strangely relaxing. Benchley wondered if this was what a waterbed felt like.
A waterbed seemed about right, Benchley realised. As impossible as it was he was lying right on top of the centre of the pool. Not sinking in, but actually lying on top of the surface. How was it possible? He wasn't Jesus Fooking Christ. He couldn't walk on water. There was no way he should be just floating here.
Something had changed the water beneath him, turned it into some form of weird translucent jelly.
He heard a girlish giggle from the far end of the pool. Awkwardly propping himself up on his elbows, Benchley was greeted by yet another bizarre sight.
A young woman sat on a rock. No, not a young woman, it was a fooking mermaid. A fooking mermaid–the sway of her hips ran into a single long finned tail–made out of water. Benchley could actually see through her. Well almost. She was translucent and her body seemed to glow and sparkle with the same blue light as the rest of the cave. Her slim body was completely naked and a pair of full breasts bobbed in the night air.
; Like jelly, Benchley thought. Not liquid, but not fully solid either. Just like the rest of her body.
Hair, if it could be called that as it was made of the same substance as the rest of her body, cascaded around her slender shoulders in shimmering waves. Dark blue eyes, the only thing about her that was truly opaque, watched Benchley with amused interest. Her gaze disconcerted Benchley a little, there seemed to be something predatory in the way she looked at him.
His unease increased when he realised he was completely naked. While he'd been under the surface something–probably the girl–had stripped him of all his clothes.
“Comfortable?” the girl asked. Her voice tinkled like delicate music.
Smiling, she leaned forward and in one smooth motion dived under the surface of the pool. This was the same pool that currently supported Benchley's body in defiance of the usual natural order.
She was an unsettling mix of complete gorgeousness and alien weirdness. Benchley wasn't sure he wanted to come into contact with her gelid body. He imagined her touch as icy cold and unpleasantly slimy. He panicked as she approached and began to flail out blindly with his limbs. He swore he'd hit her as she rose up beside him, but his foot only connected with a spray of insubstantial water.
He tried to get to his feet only to slip over again as the slick floor undulated beneath him. Unable to stand up, Benchley continued to thrash blindly around him, not wanting the girl to come anywhere near his naked form.
Beneath him the surface of the pool swayed and rocked with his violent motions. Benchley flailed for a while longer until he realised the mermaid, water girl, whatever she was, was nowhere near him.
She was a little way from him. Her body was both half out of the pool and leaning on its surface. Benchley couldn't understand how the water could be both liquid and solid to her at the same time. She was in the water, but her breasts were also lying on top of it. They jiggled as the tremors from Benchley's thrashing ran across the surface.
