Part 8: First Hunt
U. attempts her first solo hunt
The man ran down the city sidewalk completely oblivious to his surroundings. Nirvana blasted through his headphones masking the smack of rubber on concrete and the swish of his athletic shorts and tank top. The light of sunset made the sweat on his exposed arms and legs gleam red. He was jogging home from the gym after work, as usual.
The sun dropped below the artificial horizon of skyscrapers to the west, and the dim opening of each doorway he passed darkened to an impenetrable hole. However, he didn’t notice any of this because his mind’s eye was still filled with a much more tantalizing vision. The woman in the hot pink, skin tight, yoga pants. She’d been using the stair machine in front of the weights area where he’d been working out. He knew he hadn’t see her there before because he definitely would have remembered her! She was facing away from him, and had a towel draped over her head and shoulders, so he couldn’t really see much of her except the ends of platinum blonde hair which almost reached her well-rounded ass along with sculpted thighs and calves. He must have watched her climb a skyscraper or two while paying scant attention to his own workout. In fact, it was all he could do to keep his light exercise shorts from becoming an embarrassing liability under the circumstances.
He was still paying scant attention to where he was running as a young woman hurled out of a dark doorway and slammed directly into him! He was knocked off balance by the collision and just barely managed to keep on his feet.
She was small, wearing a baggy, unzipped hoodie with the hood up. Underneath, she wore a ragged tee-shirt, torn to expose her right shoulder and a good part of her breast underneath. Below, black tights with "artistically arranged” holes covered the length of her legs between very short black jean shorts and high-top sneakers. Dirty blonde hair peeked out around the edges of the hood. Her face twisted with sobs and was streaked with tears. A fresh bruise blossomed at the corner of her mouth. Blood trickled from a cut above her eye. She couldn’t have been much more than 20 years old.
An angry male voice yelled after her in some European language he didn’t recognize (not quite German, but definitely not French either...). The girl cowered into the dazed runner, turning her back on the angry man. Finally, a backpack was hurled out of the dark, landing at the girl’s feet, and the door slammed.
The girl sobbed all the harder, slid down to her knees, and planted her face directly in the man’s groin. He squirmed with an uncomfortable mix of arousal and pity. He was completely at a loss for what to do. This girl clearly needed some help, but he didn’t feel like he was in any position to give it. But, neither could he just leave her there.
He patted her gently on the shoulder and tried to say something comforting. After a minute or so, he took her by the arms and helped her back to a standing position as the sobbing subsided into sniffles and quiet tears.
"Are you okay? Do you have somewhere to go tonight?”, he asked.
She looked back at him blankly, and haltingly said: "Help?” Grimacing, she tried again: "Can you me help?” Shaking her head and losing what little she had of her composure, she started crying again, choking out: "Kun je me helpen? Ik ben helemaal alleen, en mijn vriend heeft me er net uit geschopt...” at which point her sobs took over again rendering her completely incoherent.
Desperately looking around at the growing dark, he said: "Alright. You can’t stay out here. Grab your bag, and come with me.” She may not have understood the words, but she clearly understood his body language and gestures. Her tears stopped flowing, and she wiped at her face, transforming her messy make-up into complete disaster. Grabbing her bag, she hooked her arm in his and started to walk with him.
In the shadows of the doorway, a massive man watched the two of them go. Inside, a curvy woman in hot pink yoga pants also watched with a look on her face that was part worry and part pride: the look of a mother watching her daughter head off to boot camp.
A lock clicked and a door opened casting light into the room from the hallway. A hand flicked a switch by the door, and a dozen small white spotlights flared from ceiling fixtures all around the apartment. The small room included a kitchen, a table for two, and a small living area. The kitchen was dominated by dark granite, smooth white cabinets, and brushed nickel. A large, abstract painting full of saturated colors, straight lines, and acute angles covered one wall. Finally, a thick, shaggy rug covered the floor of the living area under a pair of leather sofas separated by a heavy, glass coffee table. A bookshelf populated with business titles occupied one corner, while a liquor cabinet occupied the other. A variety of expensive-looking bottles crowded the top while an assortment of glasses glistened in the glass case below. The entire space was a study in hard, shiny surfaces, tidy elegance, and expensive taste.
The older man came in with the younger woman snuggled up to his chest with his arm about her shoulders. He guided her to one of the leather sofas and asked, pointing to the liquor cabinet: "Would you like anything?”
Glancing over the bottles, the woman answered: "Ja... cognac, please?”
He poured out two glasses and sat down on the sofa opposite from hers placing both drinks on the glass surface of the coffee table. She reached for hers automatically saying: "met dank” before stopping herself to say: "umm... thank you.” Glass in hand, she pulled up her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and sipped at her drink. Sitting as she was, her shorts pulled very tight, and her legs were positioned just right to give him the best possible chance at a view he really shouldn’t have had. He tried not to look, but—despite the unexpected way he ran into this girl—he was still worked up from that woman in pink yoga pants at the gym and was much more tempted than usual.
He was at a complete loss as to what to do now. He clearly couldn’t communicate with her, and he felt more than a little concerned about letting her stay overnight. He didn’t want to take advantage of her, and she definitely wasn’t making things easy! He was trying to figure out what to do next when she asked: "Where is the toilet?
He pointed to one of the two doors leading further into his apartment (the other was his bedroom... but best not to think too much about that!). She slid her feet to the ground and leaned far forward to get up and fumble for her backpack. He tried not to look, but he just couldn’t help himself. Her baggy shirt billowed forward flashing a momentary view of her chest all the way down to her navel. Carrying her backpack, she vanished into the bathroom leaving him in unhappy, horny bewilderment.
Umbra unzipped the backpack after setting it on the bathroom counter. With a splash of water the fake bruise, messy makeup, and dribble of blood from her ersatz injuries disappeared. She pulled a bundle of nondescript white cloth from the backpack, and stripped naked. Everything except the tee-shirt got stuffed into the bag. She pulled her succubus shift over her head, and looked at herself in the mirror.
Taking a few moments to clear her mind and relax as she’d been taught, she tried to open her mind to the man in the other room. It took her a while to put aside her nerves and relax enough to start to get some impressions. She got a vague impression of a female shape with long, platinum blonde hair, a well-rounded ass above sculpted thighs and calves, and hot-pink yoga pants. As she concentrated, more and more details came into focus in her mind’s eye.
From there, she tried to keep that picture clearly in mind as she turned her attention inward toward herself. Nothing happened. With a sense of frustration building, she took a deep breath, deliberately relaxed her shoulders, and tried again while watching her reflection in the mirror. This time, she could see her sandy hair lighten by a few shades, and her small breasts swelled by half a cup size. Sighing with exasperation, she turned to see that her ass was as "athletic” as ever. Glaring at her own ass in the mirror, she grunted with annoyance and frustration as it refused to round out even a tiny bit. Sighing, she turned her attention to her garment.
It was supposed to be telepathically linked to her shape change, but it was even trickier to manage than her own shape. As soon as her attention turned to it, it transformed from plain linen to an opaque, pearlescent fog which caressed her body from neck to waist. And that was it. For a full minute, she concentrated on that damned fog with increasing determination until it finally started to swirl and coalesce into a definite shape. The fog formed itself into a hot pink bandeau bra with matching high-cut bikini panties.
To complete her look, Umbra pull the tee-shirt back over her head, judiciously ripped the neck open a bit wider, and let it flop even more deeply down over her shoulder than before so that the top of her hot pink bra was exposed along with most of her breast. Finally, she tousled her not-quite-so-sandy blonde hair to hide the tiny nubs of her new horns, and adjusted her small bat-like wings to be invisible between her shoulder blades.
She checked herself out in the mirror. The look of nervous apprehension was definitely not sexy. She tried out Sulphurette’s most sultry expression. It definitely didn’t feel very natural on her round face. Nonetheless, she glued it on firmly and reached for the handle of the door.
He glanced up from his empty glass as the bathroom door opened. He asked: "Are you feeling...”, and then he fell silent as his eyes grew wide.
The young woman’s appearance had changed dramatically. Gone was the baggy sweatshirt, torn stockings, and even the shorts! All that remained was a torn tee-shirt hanging off of one shoulder. It was short enough to expose tiny, bare feet; muscular thighs; narrow, hot pink panties; and the tight triangle of her pelvis. The shirt was thin enough to show the muted color of the matching strip of fabric which covered her breasts underneath.
She looked down at the floor, and a shy smile pulled at her lips. The tension he’d been trying to restrain under his shorts ratcheted up several degrees, and he dropped his hands over his lap to hide the results.
She detoured to the front door and leaned away from him to put her bag down. As she leaned over, he could see the defined muscles of her calves and hamstrings, and the hot pink fabric which narrowly covered the center of her ass. Just as the bag touched the ground, she was bent so far that he could see the fleshy mound of her pussy straining at the fabric with a small dark spot of moisture in the center.
Turning back, she locked eyes with him. Her mouth dropped open with a hungry look, and she reached up to cup one breast and pinch its nipple. Deliberately placing one foot in front of another, her hips swayed side to side as she approached. The man’s hands in his lap could do nothing to hide his obvious interest as his breath came in quick gasps.
Just as she crossed into the living room area, her foot caught on the shaggy rug, and she crashed to the floor at his feet with a frightened shriek! As she fell, he clearly saw bat’s wings snap open across the width of her back—tearing the tee-shirt completely in half—and flutter uselessly as she lay sprawled on the rug!
Umbra was focusing so hard on eye contact, hip swaying, and generally "being sexy” that she completely failed to notice the rug until it was too late. With an involuntary shriek, and a painful smack against the coffee table, she found herself in a heap on the floor. Pain and panic seized her for a moment as the full horror of her situation flooded into her brain. She was going to get caught. She was going to cause the succubi and all of demon-kind to be exposed to the humans. She was going to get dissected and studied. She was never going to see Sulphurette again.
No! Not that!
The impossibility of ever accepting that thought wiped the panic from her brain instantly. Sulphurette would know how to get out of this. What would she do? What did she always do? She would turn even this ridiculous, clumsy goof into a sublimely sensual moment which would enflame this human’s loins forever. So, that’s what she, Umbra, was going to do!
The man blurted "What the hell?!” as he urgently pushed himself back on the couch, but she (it?!) was too close for him to stand or get any farther away. Suddenly, her head popped into view over the edge of the couch cushion. Her eyes were half closed, and her mouth opened slightly into that same hungry smile. The man’s heart raced and his muscles tensed, gripping the back of the sofa balanced on the keen edge between fight and flight. But, he could do neither. The girl’s sensual, predatory stare held him fixed on that precarious balancing point.
"Wha-what are you?!” he whispered, his eyes wide and fixed on hers.
Without a word, her hands slid up his legs while she raised herself to be mere inches from his face. His cock strained at his shorts while panic started to seize his brain. He opened his mouth to yell for help. In that moment, she grabbed his cock through the fabric and leaned into kiss him urgently, and her tongue thrust into his mouth, licking and teasing.
For a moment longer, he hung in the balance between libido and alarm, but libido won out. His hands reached out to wrap around her ribcage and pull her closer. He returned the intensity of her kiss as though his need for the the feel and taste of her was suddenly more urgent than his need of air.
He felt her pull his cock free of his shorts and stroke him with the same urgency as her kisses. His hands wandered down along her body, feeling her tight, lean ass and legs. Scooping his hands under her, he pulled her up into a kneeling position above him. She reached down to pull aside her panties, and sunk down onto him, impaling herself deeply on his cock as she moaned: "Zo goed!”
Umbra was ecstatic. The cock inside her felt amazing. She could tilt herself back in just the right way to press all her internal buttons in the best possible way, plus she could reach down to press that all-important external button as well. Better than that—far better—was the elation of success! She was enjoying the fruits of her first successful hunt! The pleasure of her body blended with the ecstasy of accomplishment and the anticipation of the praise sure to follow.
She wasn’t done with the hunt yet, though, so she pulled herself back into the awareness of the moment. The man under her was thrusting into her, harshly grunting out obscene phrases. Umbra pulled her bandeau down around her waist and thrust a nipple into his mouth. The added stimulation was just what she needed. She felt the growing buzz of approaching orgasm, and could sense that he was getting close, too.
Just then, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps stopping outside the door of the apartment. They both froze, looking into each others faces with wide eyes, his cock still fully ensconced in her body.
They heard a zipper pull, followed by the jangling of keys. Umbra felt him jump under (and inside) her as he whispered in panic: "Oh shit! Ashley!”
Umbra’s heart clenched, a renewed sense of terror rose to her throat, and she panicked. Jumping off his cock, she grabbed her bag, wrenched the door open, and fled past the astonished figure still looking down at where the door handle had just been.
Umbra was sniffling and crying quietly as she stepped out of the apartment building. She’d thrown Noctus’s huge sweatshirt back over herself, so she was now covered almost to her knees with the hood up and the zipper right up to her chin. She was disappointed, embarrassed, frustrated, and hungry. She’d so anticipated catching the first fresh semen of her own hunt, so it had been several days since she’d last fed. Suddenly, it was all too much, and she lost her composure completely after the panic subsided.
Silently, a figure stepped out from an alleyway, and Umbra shrieked with renewed panic and terror! Shrinking back, and covering her head with her arms, she was amazed and relieved to feel familiar arms wrap around her as she sensed Sulphurette’s presence.
"Are you okay, mia margherita? What happened?” Sulphurette soothed.
The flood of relief and shame rendered Umbra inarticulate for a while as she burst out into a fresh wave of noisy tears. Sulphurette held her close, pushing back her hood to stroke her hair. Still weeping with her face buried in the taller woman’s shoulder, Umbra explained what had happened. When she reached the end of her story, Sulphurette took her face in both hands, and bent it up to look directly into her own. Her look was stern as she said: "What did I tell you is the first rule of the hunt?!”
"To never enter a space you don’t control,” Umbra whimpered.
"That’s exactly right! And what did you just do?”
"I went up to his apartment, a space I didn’t control,” she whispered back. Shame and fresh tears welled up in her eyes as Sulphurette continued to hold her face staring directly into her own. Umbra felt trapped in the misery of her mistake and the disappointment she felt in failing her mentor.
All at once, the formidable woman’s stern expression broke, and she seemed nearly in tears herself: "You scared me so much!” she choked out. "Never do that again!”
Umbra felt herself caught up in her lover’s strong arms, with her head held tight against Sulphurette’s shoulder. After a long pause, they both caught hold of themselves, and the older woman said huskily, "Come on. We can talk at home,” and they both vanished into the darkness, hands held tight.