Chapter 1: Meet Cute
"Join the Navy they said, see the world they said," Brad Regis muttered darkly in the university library. If you asked him, Brad's college experience left much to be desired.
Thinking himself smart, he spent six years in the US Navy. Why should he have to spend years paying off student loans like a sucker? Of course, while Uncle Sam was paying his tuition, Brad had to pay in other ways.
Six years in the Navy, the better part of it rotting on a submarine at the bottom of the ocean, had taken their toll. It was six years of sleep deprivation, shitty food, stress, and hardly ever seeing the sun. Brad was in his mid twenties, but could easily pass for his mid thirties.
And what about seeing the world? Brad was a nuke, somebody who worked on nuclear reactors. Nuclear reactors had to be watched twenty four/seven. They hardly ever let the nukes go on shore leave, and there were so many rules for the junior enlisted that the few times he got to stretch his legs ashore didn't amount to much in the way of experience, not for lack of trying, of course.
The slop the recruiter sold him about learning a marketable skill that employers would take notice of turned out to be false as well. For you see, there is the right way, the wrong way, and the Navy Way. The Navy Way is an idiot-proof procedure learned by rote that sleep-deprived nineteen year olds are drilled on until they could do it at 3am on pure muscle memory.
Brad knew how to perform a series of pre-approved tasks and to respond in exactly the same way to pre-defined situations and scenarios that pertained to his job, but he knew very little about how nuclear reactors actually worked beyond the simplest caveman brain explanation, which goes something like this:
1. Hot rocks boil water and make steam
2. Steam spins a turbine
3. The turbine generates electricity
Oh, it got more complicated than that, but that was the gist. High-paying jobs for former enlisted nukes were not particularly forthcoming. Skills learned in the Navy are mostly just applicable in the Navy. If he wanted a decent job he'd need a degree.
He was here in college to get the degree, and maybe get a girlfriend. Neither task was going particularly well.
The girls in his classes were not at all interested in the haggard old man he'd become at the age of twenty five, looking at him like he was a creep when he tried to talk to them. None of the popular guy frats wanted him either. He was in Gamma Pi, the nerd frat that took anyone that paid the dues. It wasn't worth it but he joined just so he wouldn't be totally alone.
And he'd forgotten most of the calculus and physics he learned in high school. Limits, what are those? He was struggling.
The only reason he bothered getting out of bed in the morning was Reka Fekete, the Hungarian grad student.
Reka, sweet Reka, the only woman in the nuclear engineering department around his age, was his dream girl. Black of hair, slim, leggy, busty, soft delicate facial features, big doe eyes of forest green, full lips that would make you suspect filler if they didn't look so harmonious with the rest of her face, the kind of woman you could tell didn't grow up in America eating cheeseburgers and pizza.
The only problem was she didn't talk much; rumor had it she didn't speak English well. And she was a pill head, can't forget that, adderall for sure, but harder stuff was mentioned in whispers when she was out of earshot.
I could fix her, Brad thought.
But Reka didn't know he existed.
The computer science majors had been humbled by the rise of AI, which was why he was a nuclear engineering major. All of those data centers would need juice, and he hoped they wouldn't let AI design nuclear reactors any time soon. Well, AI would be the least of his problems if he failed out.
Brad was struggling with his problem set from "Intro to Ionizing Radiation" and trying to will his mind back into focus. He'd been at this for hours, chipping away at it with very little to show for his efforts.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Reka burst through the library doors. Reka!
Her eyes were wide and panicked, out of focus, darting around chaotically, and she was shaking. At once Brad knew what was wrong.
She's taken too many pills and she's freaking out.
Brad approached her like a wounded deer, his homework forgotten.
"Reka, Reka, look at me," he said gently, holding up his hands. "Let me help you."
Her eyes locked onto his and it was almost like they flashed for a moment, must've been a trick of the light.
She said something low and guttural that he didn't understand, Hungarian, probably. Her English wasn't good at the best of times, and now it was non existent.
"Reka," he said louder, as if increasing the volume would increase her understanding. "You need help. Let's get you to the campus medical office."
Reka grabbed him as if she understood but started dragging him away from the door.
"No, Reka," he corrected patiently, "not that way."
Her grip was iron, and he found that he was being taken, quite against his will, behind a secluded bookcase. Brad tried to pull away, but whatever pills she took must've given her super strength. He was completely at her mercy.
She pinned him against the bookcase with one hand while the other went for his belt buckle.
Holy shit, is this really happening? I must've dosed off and now I'm having the best dream ever!
Reka fixed him with a glare and her eyes flashed again. "%@&$^*," she said firmly. He didn't understand, but took it to mean "stay still."
She dropped to her knees.
Don't wake up. Don't wake up. Don't wake up. This dream is going to fuel my masturbation for a year.
By the time she pulled down his waistband he was painfully hard, his upward-curving dick pointing at the ceiling.
When she took him into her hot mouth he moaned shamelessly. It wasn't every day you had such a vivid, realistic dream.
And her mouth was hot, bordering on uncomfortable. Her blowjob was skilled, if mechanical, more about applying hot slick suction than something really erotic.
Shwick Shwick Shwick she bobbed on his erection, her lips forming a tight seal on the head while one hand stroked his shaft and the other stimulated his balls.
Oh, he thought. I'm not going to last long.
Reka could sense it too and sped up, stimulating the underside of his glans with her thick tongue.
Shwick Shwick Shwick Shwick, she kicked into a higher gear.
Brad was breathing heavy, grimacing and clenching his fists in an effort to last just a little longer. This was the best dream ever.
"Reka, you are so fucking beautiful," he gushed, looking down as her perfect pouty lips worked his cock expertly.
It started at the base of his spine and radiated outwards. His balls contracted, his dick pulsed, and he sprayed his heart, soul, and seed into Reka's sucking mouth like a fire hose.
The part of him that was self-aware knew that he must be making the most ridiculous looking "o-face" of his life right now, and was thankful Reka wasn't looking up at him, her eyes focused on the task at hand.
She gulped down his essence greedily, and each swallow sent another wave of pleasure through his dick and all the way down to his toes.
Finally, the stream tapered off and her lips released his member with a wet pop. Her skin glistened with sweat and it almost seemed like she was glowing, another trick of the light, he was sure.
Brad slumped against the bookcase, his wobbly legs barely holding him upright.
"Reka, that was amazing," he said sincerely.
**********************************************************************
"Reka" point of view
Transformation complete.
The life force in this mortal's seed had been just enough to anchor her consciousness to this plane of existence and transform her vessel into a lesser succubus.
It grated, somewhat, that she, who once slaughtered armies with the wave of a hand, was now such a lowly breed, the weakest of all demons, but in the magic-deprived world, it would just have to do.
She briefly considered ending the existence of this mortal before he could warn others, but thought better of it.
Reka, he called her. He was familiar with her vessel, and still believed they were one in the same. She could use this; she still knew far too little about this strange world with no ambient magic.
"Don't tell anyone about this," she commanded in his language. "We'll speak later."
She had absorbed his words with his seed, but full understanding would take time. She needed context, experience, more information.
She made to leave-
"Reka, wait!" he begged, running after her and grabbing her arm.
She wrenched it away. Quit while you're ahead, mortal. I could still end you.
"I said, we'll talk later."
He flinched. She would have to work on her body language and tone of voice. She supposed that must have come off as threatening.
Mercifully, he got the hint and didn't hinder her any further.
"Your name, man," she demanded as an afterthought. She'd need to know who he was to find him later.
He flinched again, and looked...disappointed perhaps?
"Brad, Brad Regis," he said quietly.
"That will be all, Brad Regis," she said magnanimously. "Until we meet again."
He took that for the dismissal it was and she exited the building, returning to the chambers of her vessel, this "Reka".
It was a long journey that brought her hence.
For she was once the great Demon Queen, who ruled a dozen realms, and warred with the Free Peoples of the West.
The war went well, and all would have been hers, if not for the Hero's party. The Hero wielded a sword of light, and had stout companions from all the free peoples: men, elves, dwarves, the last alliance.
It was with that sword of light that her physical body was slain and her spirit hurled into the void.
For a thousand years she was a specter, wandering in the endless space between dimensions, out of time, out of memory, until she arrived here.
This world was dead to magic, or if there were mages here they were very well-concealed indeed.
It was well that she arrived when she did, for her power to hold herself together as a single consciousness had waned dangerously. It was all that she could do to reach out with her mind and find a suitable vessel.
The body that she wore was dying when she took it, making its seizure all the easier. Poison was the cause. Evidently, her vessel had mortal enemies. She would have to be vigilant.
Once she completed the possession she got a nasty surprise. This world lacked not only organized magic, but also the wild magic in the wind, the water, the earth, the energy she needed to fuel the connection and keep her whole.
An anchor, she needed an anchor!
In an undignified panic she fled her vessel's chambers until she spotted that mortal alone in the scriptorium.
His life force, it's the only way!
Lacking any means to efficiently exsanguinate him and consume his blood, and running out of time, she opted to drink his seed. It was enough. Providing the necessary stimulation to extract his seed was not altogether unpleasant. The way he looked at her, was he perhaps the mate of her vessel? After so long in an incorporeal state the physical act of love was shocking in its intensity, even as the provider of sensation rather than the receiver. In any case, she would have to do it again and again to provide the fuel for her succubus magic.
Transforming into a lesser succubus had been a stroke of genius. Her vessel lacked any inherent magic, and the life force in Brad Regis' seed was more than sufficient for a petty transformation. The succubus was a carnal creature, and could feed on life force indefinitely in a world without magic. Any more powerful form would rapidly decay in this magical desert.
Now, bound to this vessel securely, and transformed into a lesser succubus, she had time to think, to plan. Her magic was limited, parlor tricks really, illusion, distraction, suggestion, domination of lesser minds, these would be her tools.
Not terribly effective, she would admit, but in a world without magic? It might be all she required. This world would be hers, starting with Brad Regis.