Chapter Text
It seems nothing changes; Kathy thinks with a chuckle she’s accepted she’ll be cleaning up after her children until the day she dies, and since Esther is busy at school right now, she figures she can clean up her daughter’s room a bit.
She raises an eyebrow as she picks up a small tin box. As she opens it, her fingers brush against something small and metallic. It’s a ring, unlike anything she’s seen before—silver twisted into intricate patterns that seem to shift and writhe in the changing light, with a deep crimson stone that pulses almost imperceptibly, as if with a heartbeat of its own.
She remembers Esther mentioning something about this ring before but cannot fully recall what. Her mind had been preoccupied with other things that day, so it was all a blur.
“Esther, where did you even find something like this?” Katherine whispers to herself, turning it over in her palm.
The moment her thumb brushes against the stone, a jolt shoots through her—not painful, but electric, tinged with something ancient and hungry. Something urges her to put it on. Without thinking it through, she slips the ring onto her ring finger. It fits perfectly, as if made for her, and the silver seems to warm against her skin.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then the pain begins.
It starts as a dull ache in her finger, rapidly escalating into a searing heat that spreads up her arm like liquid fire; her whole body feels like it’s being encased in lava. Katherine tears her clothes off savagely as she cries out, stumbling back against the wall as her body convulses. The ring is glowing now, the crimson stone illuminating the room with an otherworldly light.
“W-What’s happening to me?” she gasps, trying to pull the ring off, but it has fused with her flesh, the silver patterns now crawling across her skin like living tattoos.
The transformation is agonizing, yet beneath the pain, something else stirs—a dark, intoxicating pleasure that makes her gasp with equal parts agony and desire. Her skin tingles as black and pink markings begin to etch themselves across her body, starting from her hands and creeping upwards in delicate, lace-like patterns that resemble gloves extending all the way to her biceps. Similar markings bloom around her feet and ankles, climbing her legs to form what looks like intricate thigh-high stockings.
She falls to her knees, her naked body caked in sweat as her spine elongates with a series of sickening cracks, a pressure building at the base of her spine until it burst forth in a spray of blood and new tissue. A black tail emerges, long and graceful; the tip of her tail tapers, shaped like a perfect pink heart that twitches with a life of its own.
Her scalp burns as her hair grows rapidly; golden‑brown strands cascade past her shoulders, down her back, to pool at her ass and further down, growing even longer. The most excruciating pain comes from her temples as two hard protrusions push through her skin, curling upward and outward into ram-like horns that gleam like polished obsidian in the dim light.
Katherine’s reflection in the mirror shows a stranger—a creature of darkness and desire, with eyes that glow with a faint pink luminescence. Her body has changed too; her curves seem even more enhanced, her skin pale but for the intricate markings that now cover her limbs. She’s beautiful and horrifying all at once.
And she’s burning with a hunger that defies description—a lust so intense it makes her entire body tremble, a craving that goes far beyond physical desire. She needs to touch, to taste, to consume. But mixed with this overwhelming arousal is something darker, more sinister—a desire not just to possess but to destroy, to kill whoever might become her lover.
The hotel corridors seem to call to her, and Katherine—no, not Katherine anymore, something else—finds herself moving with a predatory grace she’s never possessed. Her tail swishes behind her, the heart-shaped tip twitching in anticipation.
A door opens down the hall, and a middle-aged businessman steps out, adjusting his tie. He looks up and freezes when he sees her, his eyes widening with a mixture of fear and fascination.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly.
The succubus smiles, a slow, deliberate curving of lips that promises both ecstasy and agony. “I believe I can help you,” she purrs, her voice husky with desire.
She closes the distance between them in three fluid steps, her tail wrapping around his waist as her hands—still appearing to be gloved in the intricate markings—trace patterns on his chest. He shudders, caught between terror and an inexplicable arousal.
“What are you?” he gasps as she leans in, her lips brushing against his neck.
“Your deepest fantasy,” she whispers, “and your worst nightmare.”
Her fangs—she hasn’t even realized she has fangs until now—sink into his throat, and he cries out, not just in pain but in a pleasure so intense it borders on agony. She drinks deeply, his life force fueling her transformation, completing it. As he weakens, she pulls back, her eyes glowing with triumph and bloodlust.
But before she can deliver the final blow, a powerful hand seizes her wrist and, with a strength that surprises her, tugs her back. “Enough,” a deep voice commands.
She turns to face the newcomer, looking down at him—it’s Abaddon.
“Let go of me,” she snarls, trying to pull free, but his grip is like iron as he keeps hold of her wrist tightly.
“You don’t want to kill him, Katherine,” Abaddon says, his voice calm but firm. “That’s the ring talking, not you.”
For the first time since the transformation began, Katherine feels a flicker of her old self. “W-What’s happening to me?” she whispers, the fight draining out of her.
Abaddon’s expression softens almost imperceptibly. “I’ll explain everything,” he says before his eyes focus on the man behind her. Yes, he’ll have to deal with him later—it won’t be that hard to perform a memory erasing spell. “But not here.” He helps her away from the wounded man, who is now scrambling back to his room, clutching his bleeding neck.
Abaddon leads Katherine into his suite—it’s not a room he uses a lot, but it’s more than perfect to give Katherine a moment to calm down. He guides her to a plush armchair, his touch surprisingly gentle, before taking a seat opposite her.
She only realizes she’s still naked, her face burning with shame as she fidgets where she sits.
“The ring you found,” he begins, “is not just jewelry. It’s a binding artifact, created eons ago by Asmodeus, the Demon of Lust, to mark his chosen bride.”
Katherine stares at her hands, at the intricate black and pink markings that now seem a permanent part of her. “A bride? But I’m not... I wasn’t...”
“Not in the human sense,” Abaddon clarifies, his vermilion eyes watching her intently. “Asmodeus doesn’t choose based on love or affection. He selects vessels—women with a latent capacity for both immense pleasure and immense destruction. Women who, even subconsciously, harbor a darkness that can be nurtured and amplified.”
He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “The ring is a catalyst. When you put it on, it didn’t just change you—it awakened something within you. The markings you see are a manifestation of demonic energy, a physical representation of your new nature. They’re not just for show; they channel and focus your power.”
Katherine’s tail twitches nervously, the heart-shaped tip curling around the leg of the chair, as her stomach clenches with dread. “What kind of power?”
Abaddon’s gaze is steady, unflinching. “The power to seduce, to enthrall, to consume. Succubi are psychic and emotional vampires. You feed on life force, on desire, on the very essence of your victims. The more intense the emotion you provoke—be it lust, fear, or adoration—the more sustenance you draw.”
He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “But there’s a catch, a cruel twist in your new nature. The act of feeding, of bringing someone to the peak of ecstasy, also triggers your predatory instinct. The closer your victim comes to fulfillment, the stronger your urge to destroy them becomes. It’s why the Demon’s brides are so feared—they offer heaven and deliver hell in the same breath.”
Katherine feels a chill despite the warmth of the room. “Is that why I wanted to kill that man?”
Abaddon nods. “The ring amplifies this aspect of a succubus’s nature.”
Katherine shudders. “Isn’t there any way to reverse this?”
Abaddon sighs, shaking his head with a solemn expression. “Your transformation is complete. You’re not just any succubus; you’re marked as Asmodeus’s property, though he has long since abandoned this realm for other pursuits,” the demon states with an eye roll.
Her eyes widen with a faraway look, her ears ringing as the sinking feeling of grim acceptance overcomes her. “So I’m stuck like this forever?” Katherine asks, her voice barely a whisper.
“Forever is a long time, even for our kind,” Abaddon replies, his tone softening somewhat. “But yes, the transformation is irreversible. The demonic energy has rewritten your very DNA and reshaped your soul. You can no more change back than a human can un-become human.”
“But being a succubus isn’t just about the hunger and the destruction. It’s about perception. You see things now that humans can’t—the desires that drive people, the darkness they hide even from themselves. You understand the fundamental nature of want in a way no mere mortal ever could.”
As Katherine raises her own hand towards her bare chest to feel her own frantic heartbeat, she notes her new claws—she hasn’t even realized she has claws—they lightly scratch against her skin. “With time and training, you can learn to control the destructive impulse. It will always be there, a part of you, but it doesn’t have to rule you.”
He meets her gaze directly. “What you experienced with that guest in the hall was your first feeding. The pleasure you felt, the arousal—that was the life force entering your system. The urge to kill him was the ring’s influence, the Demon’s mark asserting its dominance over your new nature.”
Katherine looks down at her legs, at the markings marring her skin. “Can I ever... Be with someone? Without hurting them?”
Abaddon’s expression is difficult to read. “Intimacy will always be dangerous for you. The very act of physical contact, of emotional connection, will trigger your feeding response. But there are ways to manage it, to find a balance. Some succubi learn to feed in small amounts, to take just enough to sustain themselves without draining their partners completely.”
He leans forward again. “Others find partners who can withstand the feeding, who have enough life force and enough resilience to survive the exchange, such as a mate. Contrary to a succubus’s predatory needs, succubi mate for life... He pauses, his scarlet eyes seeming to glow brighter for a moment. “It redirects their hunger to channel it into other forms of energy.”
Katherine feels a strange pull towards him, something that goes beyond the constant lust that burns within her. It’s a connection, a recognition of shared otherness. “How do you know all of this, Abaddon?”
He smiles, a slow, deliberate curving of lips. “Back before my life here, I was known to have a tryst or two with your kind~,” he says rather smugly.
Katherine frowns at him for saying her kind—it only reminds her that she is no longer human but now something she can’t even begin to comprehend...
“I will help you through this, matriarch. I can be a teacher, a guide, perhaps even a shield against the worst aspects of your new nature.”
His hand reaches out to grasp her hand. Katherine tenses at first, then relaxes as a warmth spreads through her, different from the demonic fire that had transformed her. This is calming and centering.
“You’re not alone in this, Katherine,” he says, his voice soothing to her ears. “What you’re feeling now—the confusion, the fear, even the twisted pleasure—I understand it better than you can imagine. I’ve walked the path between worlds for longer than your human mind can comprehend.”
His hand holding hers is both firm and gentle, and Katherine finds herself squeezing back, craving the stability he offers in the midst of her chaotic transformation. “Why?” she asks. “Why help me?”
Abaddon’s hand moves from her hand to trace the markings on her arms, his touch sending a different kind of shiver through her—not the burning lust she’s felt before, but something deeper, more resonant. “Because in all my long existence, I’ve rarely encountered a soul as resilient as yours. Even now, with the Demon’s mark upon you, part of the woman you were remains. That part is worth preserving.”
He continues, “the hunger will always be with you, Katherine. The desire to consume, to destroy—it’s part of your new nature. But it won’t have to be all that you are. With my help, you can learn to balance the darkness within you, to find a way to exist without losing yourself completely.”
Katherine reaches out with her marked hand, her fingers trembling slightly as she brushes them against her cheek, where the intricate patterns have spiraled across the sides of her face, slightly over her cheeks, twisting like vines over her skin, disappearing upwards over her temples into her hairline. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
Abaddon grabs her hand gently, pulling her hand away from her face, his ruby eyes holding a promise that seems to span centuries. “You’re stronger than you believe. I’ll be here to guide you, to anchor you when the darkness threatens to overwhelm you.”
As he speaks, Katherine feels something shift within her—a subtle realignment of priorities, a glimmer of hope in the overwhelming darkness of her new existence. Perhaps being a succubus isn’t just a curse; perhaps, with Abaddon’s guidance, it can be something more.
“What do we do now?” she asks, her voice steadier than before.
Abaddon gives her a faint smile. “Now, we begin your education. There’s much you need to learn about your new abilities, your limitations, and the world you’ve just entered. And I,” he adds, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, “have much to teach you.”
They stare at each other for a beat too long before she sees his eyes flicker towards her breasts and her face flushes as she breaks their connection. She clears her throat using her arm to cover her chest, she mumbles. “I... Uh... Need to get dressed.”
...
The hotel room feels suffocatingly small as Katherine surveys her reflection. Abaddon has split off from her. He had mentioned he needed to do something, and Katherine knows more often than not to let him go off on his own and do his own thing—as long as that thing isn’t destroying the hotel.
The fresh clothes she put on do little to conceal the radical changes to her body. The intricate black and pink markings on her hands might pass for fashionable gloves, but they draw attention to the unnatural stillness of her fingers, which now end in slightly pointed nails. Her blazer looks odd paired with what appears to be evening gloves, an inconsistency that will surely raise questions...
Her main concern, however, is her horns. She’s spent twenty minutes trying to tame her now ridiculously long hair—she feels like a Rapunzel of sorts. Her hair falls well past her waist towards her ankles, thick and lustrous in a way that defies any human explanation. By carefully arranging sections of her hair, she manages to mostly conceal the ram-like horns that curl from her temples, though they still create subtle bumps beneath the mass of her hair.
Her tail presents another challenge. After several awkward attempts, she manages to stuff it into her right pant leg, where it lies coiled like a serpent, the heart-shaped tip occasionally twitching against her calf. The discomfort is constant, a reminder of her new reality.
As Katherine descends to the lobby, her body begins to betray her once more. A heat spreads through her veins, starting as a low warmth in her abdomen that travels straight to her core and rapidly escalating into an inferno that threatens to consume her from within. The markings on her skin seem to pulse with each beat of her heart, and she can feel her pupils dilating despite the dim lighting of the hotel corridor.
The lobby is empty when she arrives, but Abaddon is there, sitting cross-legged on the front desk with his characteristic nonchalance. His red eyes fix on her the moment she enters, and she knows he can sense her distress even before she speaks.
“The kids will be here soon,” she says, her voice straining with panic. “How am I supposed to explain this to them?”
Abaddon straightens from where he remains seated, his expression unreadable. “You don’t... Not yet.”
He jumps off the front desk and approaches. Katherine feels another wave of desire wash over her, so intense it makes her knees weak. She leans against the wall for support, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “S-Something’s happening,” she manages. “The heat... It’s getting worse.”
Abaddon is before her in three strides, his hands hovering just above her hips as if afraid to touch her. Certainly their height difference doesn’t exactly help. “The transformation is still settling. Your body is adjusting to its new appetites.”
“I can’t control it,” Katherine whispered, her eyes fluttering closed as another spasm of pleasure-pain courses through her. “I need...” she groans, “oh, fuck, I don’t know what I need.”
She can feel her tail stirring restlessly inside her pant leg, and her hands tremble with the urge to touch, to claim, to consume. The markings on her skin glow faintly, casting a pinkish hue on the surrounding wall.
Abaddon’s voice is low, almost a whisper, as if he were weighing the effect that the next words that will come out of his mouth will have on her, his bright red eyes locking on her face scrunched up with pain. “...I can help you. If you’ll let me.”
Katherine’s eyes snap open, and she sees the concern in his expression—or what passes for concern in his stoic features. “How? What if I hurt you?” But the much more important thought—how will this affect them? She’s aware he’s just a demon trapped in a little boy’s body—but she can’t cross a line so delicate as this, can she?...
She bites her bottom lip before releasing it to utter. “What if this changes... Us?” Her relationship with Abaddon is already complicated enough as it is without all this succubus nonsense thrown into it—she doesn’t know what the outcome will be if she does this, if she lets him do this to her...
A faint smile touches Abaddon’s lips. “I’m not as fragile as I appear. And as for ‘us’... We crossed that threshold the moment you put on that ring.”
She bites back a whimper of despair as she looks at the aforementioned ring that is still fused to her skin. It’s just a part of her entire being now.
She lets him take her hand and lead her to a nearby sitting area, guiding her onto a plush velvet sofa. Katherine’s body is on fire now, every nerve ending alight with sensation.
“Lie back,” he instructs, his voice calm despite the storm raging within her.
Katherine complies, her back arching as another wave of desire washes over her. Abaddon kneels before the sofa, his small hands resting on her knees. Through the fabric of her jeans, she can feel the coolness of his touch, a welcome relief against her burning skin.
“This will help,” he says, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her wide hips along with her panties. Katherine doesn’t resist; she’s beyond caring about modesty or convention. All that matters is extinguishing the fire that threatens to consume her.
When Abaddon’s nimble fingers brush against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, Katherine gasps, her hips rising instinctively to meet his touch. The markings on her legs seem to glow brighter, responding to his proximity.
“Easy,” he murmurs, his hands parting her thighs with a gentleness that belies his demonic nature. “Let me help you, Katherine.”
And then his mouth meets her quivering pussy, and Katherine cries out as a jolt of pure pleasure shoots through her body. Abaddon’s tongue moves with practiced skill, exploring her folds with a precision that speaks of centuries of experience. Katherine’s hands fist the velvet of the sofa, her back arching off the cushions as waves of ecstasy washes over her.
The markings on her skin pulse in time with the rhythm of his movements, and she can feel her tail thrashing under her ass where it is pinned to swish around like a snake ready to strike. The heat that has been building within her now finds release, pouring out of her in waves of molten pleasure that leave her trembling and breathless.
Abaddon’s hands hold her hips steady, his tiny fingers pressing into her flesh with just enough pressure to anchor her to reality as her body threatens to float away on a sea of pleasure. His tongue circles her clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves before closing his lips around it and sucking gently.
Katherine’s world narrows to the point of contact between them, to the exquisite torture of his mouth on her most intimate flesh. She can feel the demonic energy within her responding to his touch, not with violence or the urge to destroy, but with a raw, primal need that is both terrifying and exhilarating.
As her climax builds, Katherine’s mind flashes with images—of the man in the hallway, of blood and pleasure mixed together, of the hunger that has driven her to near-madness. But Abaddon’s touch is different; it isn’t about consumption or destruction but about connection, about channeling the overwhelming energy into something pure and transformative.
When she finally comes, it’s with a scream that seems to shake the very foundations of the hotel. Her body convulses, her muscles clenching and releasing in rhythmic spasms as wave after wave of pleasure run through her. The markings on her skin blaze with light, and for a moment, she feels as though she might dissolve into nothingness, becoming pure energy and sensation.
Abaddon holds her through it all, his mouth never leaving her until the last tremor has subsided. As Katherine collapses back against the sofa, spent and trembling, he gently releases her, crawling up on the couch to sit beside her.
The fire within her has cooled to a gentle warmth, the desperate hunger replaced by a sated contentment. Katherine turns her head to look at Abaddon, her vision still hazy with the aftereffects of her orgasm.
“What was that?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
Abaddon’s crimson eyes glow softly in the dim light. “A way to channel the energy without destruction. A temporary solution, but effective.”
Katherine reaches out with a trembling hand, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “And us? What does this mean for us?”
Abaddon catches her hand in his, his thumb stroking the intricate markings on her wrist. His eyes are soft as he whispers, “I haven’t been around my kind in eons, Katherine. I have had no one who fully understands what I am, but now, I can help you. I will show you what you are,” he says, lightly squeezing her hand, “and I’ll show you what I am. Whatever else happens, whatever challenges lie ahead, you have someone who understands what you’re going through,” he says sincerely.
As Katherine looks into his eyes, she realizes that while her transformation has stolen her old life; it has also given her something new—a connection to this enigmatic being who alone can help her navigate the darkness that now dwells within her.
“The kids will be here soon,” she reminds him, the words barely audible.
Abaddon nods, his expression thoughtful. “Then we’ll face that together, too. For now, rest. The fire will return, but now you know there is a way to temper it.”
Katherine closes her eyes, a strange sense of peace settling over her. The future is extremely uncertain, terrifying in its possibilities, but for the first time since putting on that cursed ring, she doesn’t feel completely alone.