The Generator: The Succubae Seduction Read online

  The Succubae Seduction:

  The Generator

  By: J. Sselxuyt

  Edited by: Michael Thrane

  Published by J. Sselxuyt

  Copyright® 2014 by J. Sselxuyt

  All rights reserved under the Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Author.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For additional information contact:

  [email protected]

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  Chapter 01

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  Dead Ends

  Ker-chink

  Sighing, I set the completed report aside after stapling it. I put it on top of another set of reports that will likely get just as ignored as the head honchos of our company make their billion dollar decisions.

  Craning my neck and torso, I grunt as I feel my back pop. I look around my office. . . . Well, I’m not really sure I can call this room an office. Five desks are arrayed around the room in a U-shape, each with another corporate lackey just like myself, looking just as dead eyed and soulless as I feel.

  Well, except for Sheila at the bend in the U. Ms. Lance is my boss, and while she isn’t a strict task mistress, she isn’t exactly warm either. I’ve definitely worked for worse bosses, and worse looking. Her long black hair is tied back into a tight bun, making her brown eyes and sharp nose that much more severe. The look is balanced by a softer chin, which all told doesn’t make her beautiful, but more on the attractive side.

  Crap! She’s looking right at me, and even from this distance, I can see the disapproving look in her dark eyes. Well, back to the grind. Did I mention she wasn’t strict? Yeah, well, I lied.

  Burying my head back into my work, I pull up a couple spreadsheets and get back to compiling data. The work is beyond mind numbing!

  If only this job didn’t pay the bills, I’d happily be doing something else. Growing up, I never saw myself as a desk jockey, putting in the 9-5 grind, and collecting a paycheck every two weeks. I’d always seen myself with an exciting career in the Air Force, flying fighter jets, and shooting down the enemy. My near-sightedness and colorblindness put an end to that dream.

  Without military help in paying my tuition, my real parents, rest their souls, couldn’t afford to put me through college. I’d worked my way through fast food, until I became a manager. Then I found a job in the mailroom here, which paid a bit less than I was making, but I could hold the fast food management job at night, while working inside the dungeon, during the day. A couple years later, I crawled out of that abyss, and have slowly worked my way up to this dreary position of crunching numbers and filing reports.

  Yeah, yay me! A very exciting career indeed. I still dream of being a soldier, fighting for the weak, but that’ll never happen.

  An odd noise sounds across from me. It takes me a moment to recognize what it is. Not because the sound is unrecognizable, but because it is so alien in this white-washed, fluorescent-illuminated room.

  It was a sigh of contentment.

  Looking up, I’m greeted with an odd sight. Thomas Johnson, gray head of hair and normally tired eyes, looks slightly happy. He actually has a dreamy look on his face. Almost as if he’s in la-la-land and enjoying his fantasy. That’s not the oddest thing though.

  Bent over next to him is a very attractive young lady in a black and red summer dress, whispering into his ear. Her shoulder length blue hair is hanging down over her face, and whatever she’s saying to Thomas, seems to be having an effect on his daydreaming.

  A quick glance to Sheila shows that she isn’t paying any attention to the two, but she is looking at me sternly.

  Back to work I go.

  Thomas clears his throat, and I glance up. I see the young lady start walking over to Debbie. I can now see the girl’s face, and note that she’s probably nineteen or twenty. Her nose is small, one of those cute button noses, and her eyes are wide, almost innocent looking. I can’t make out much more detail at this distance, even with my glasses on. The saucy sway in her slim hips as she walks over to Debbie is easily noticeable. She starts whispering in Debbie’s ear. What is that girl saying to them, and why do they look like they’re a million miles away, mentally?

  I have just enough time to see a dreamy look come over the slightly chubby woman’s features, before Sheila loudly states, “Mr. Snow, if you can’t seem to focus on your own work, maybe I should send you home.”

  Crap, crap, and triple crap! Part of me is upset at the injustice of the situation. I mean, why am I getting into trouble, instead of that young woman?

  “No, Ms. Lance. Sorry, I got distracted.” Eyes back on my screen, I do my best to ignore what’s happening on the other side of the room. I drudge through a report on current shipping costs, versus what they were a year ago.

  This report is actually interesting, in a ‘I want to bash my head against a wall, until I black out,’ sort of way.

  “Hmm, you’re kinda cute; so much better than that religious bitch next to you. Too bad we can’t get rid of those glasses.” The softly whispered voice directly in my ear startles me enough that I fall right out of my chair, landing on my wrist.

  “Mr. Snow!” Sheila nearly shouts. I point with my uninjured wrist, my mouth hanging open, at the very beautiful woman standing behind my desk and over me. “Don’t try and blame your chair. Your reports have been less than stellar lately, and it’s obvious you need to take the afternoon off. Perhaps tomorrow you will feel up to doing your job properly.”

  Speechless, I look from the young woman, to my boss, and back again. The blue-haired petite lady looks just as shocked and confused as I feel. My mouth moves wordlessly as I try to protest, but the look in my boss’s brown eyes silences me. I’ve never been one to argue with an authority figure, and back down.

  Yeah, I would have made quite the warrior!

  Picking myself up off the floor, I log off my computer, grab my coat, and head to the elevator. The young woman follows right on my heels.

  As soon as the doors close, the young lady speaks, and a shiver runs through me as her words conjure blurry thoughts that somehow seem lascivious and a pleasant feeling grows in my groin. “You can see and hear me, can’t you?” There is still a note of surprise in her tone.

  I glance at her, and her hazel eyes try to ensnare mine, but I look away quickly. Paying attention to my own delusions will only make me feel crazier than I already do.

  Maybe I do need a break. Is this babe for real? No one else seemed to be able to see or hear her. Sheila obviously hadn’t, and everyone e
lse in the office had only stared at him. Maybe a good nap will clear my head.

  “You can!” the pert woman says excitedly. The doors to the elevator open, and I step out, having no doubt that my hallucination will follow me. “But why can you see and hear me? No one should be able to if I don’t want them to. What are you?”

  I’m obviously insane, I almost snap at her.

  Walking through the parking garage, I try to ignore her as I head to my car, a bright orange, old beat up, VW Beetle.

  “Leaving early, Mr. Snow?” Guard Lansbury, one of the security guards for the building and quite overweight, asks me. I never learned her first name, and always just thought of her as Guard Lansbury.

  “Yeah, I’m not feeling too well. I’m going home to bed,” I tell her, cringing as I add the last part.

  “Bed, huh? Sure you don’t have some hot piece of ass waiting for you?” She laughs as I feel my cheeks burn. She always has a way of turning everything sexual.

  “You see her, too?” I ask, wondering if she’s referring to the petite babe next to me.

  “See who?” the guard asks, looking around. She stops and grin lewdly at me. “Mr. Snow, you don’t need to fake anything for me. If you want me to claim you’re not feeling well, all you have to do is ask.” She takes a deep breath and her voice drops an octave. “With me, all you ever have to do is ask.”

  I get moving before she can make any more innuendos. I don’t know if the security guard treats everyone that way, but she always makes me uncomfortable.

  “You don’t think I’m real!” the other girl says as I get to my car. I can’t stop myself from nodding in response. Of course she’s not real. She has to be entirely in my mind. No one else can see or hear her. Her voice has an almost physical effect on me. No woman of her obvious caliber would be spending this much time with me.

  I admit it, it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date. I don’t think I’m ugly, and I’m by no means fat. In fact, I may be a little on the skinny side, but I try to stay fit. My dark brown hair is cut close to my head, parted on the right, and I’ve been told that my gray eyes are eye-catching, if only I didn’t have to wear glasses.

  I’d thought my last date had gone well, until I’d invited the woman back to my place for coffee. She had quickly declined, and we went our separate ways. She never returned any of my phone calls after that. Maybe I just need to pull up some porn, and take care of myself. That ought to clear the cobwebs out of my head.

  I use my key to unlock the driver’s side, and get in, only to find my delusion already in the passenger seat. Of course. . . . I look to her door to see that the passenger side is still locked. Did I really expect anything else?

  Wait a minute. She’s my delusion. I should be able to think her away. I concentrate hard on picturing the passenger seat empty.

  “That won’t work,” her soft voice states. Great! Even my own delusions won’t obey me. Whatever made me think I could be a soldier?

  The engine in the rear cranks to life, and I put the Orange Bubble as I call her, into gear, starting my drive home.

  “You can ignore me all you want, but I’m really here.” I find myself growing hard in my pants, and I wonder about that. “I can prove it, too!” Even if this is all in my head, why does her soft voice have such an effect on me?

  I feel her hands unzip my pants, and I do my best to ignore how soft her fingers feel as she pulls my hard member from my underwear. Wow! This delusion feels great, I think as she bends over, and teases the tip of my penis with her tongue. I can feel her mouth muscle playing with my pee hole, and I can’t stop the slight moan that escapes my lips. Her hand squeezes the base of my penis, while her other hand gently fondles my nutsack.

  I have to concentrate hard on the road, and swerve back into my lane when her lips surround the head of my penis, and my pleasure increases tenfold. How can my imagination feel so good? I can actually feel her saliva dripping down my shaft and get massaged into my balls. Her technique is flawless. My legs keep twitching as she does something around the sensitive rim, and it’s taking all of my effort to stay on the road.

  This is just a dream, I tell myself, feeling doubt creep in at the assertion. None of this is real. I don’t care how fantastic this is, it has to be an illusion.

  I grunt loudly as I start to shoot off into what feels like a very warm wet vacuum, but know that it really has to be the inside of my underwear.

  I hear screeching tires, and a horn honking, right before my poor car slams into something hard.

  My head slams into the steering wheel. Stars break in my vision before I black out.

  * * * *

  A really annoying, steady beep wakes me up and I look around. I immediately recognize the look of a hospital room. I groan as a wash of pain nearly overwhelms me. I never knew pain could hurt so badly!

  Well, I try to groan. A tube shoved down my throat rather hinders the attempt. How bad was that accident? I try to lift my head, but again, the pain is intolerable and I quit trying.

  “Good to see you’re finally awake,” a gentle voice says, and I feel myself calming down. Swiveling my eyes towards the feminine tones, I see a rather attractive nurse holding a clipboard and smiling at me. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a pony tail, and her blue eyes are sparkling as she looks over my broken body. Her lips are a deep red, and look very kissable. . . . Not that I’m in any position to do that right now, but she’s gorgeous.

  “Mmf, mhmmm, guruhh?” I ask, which translates loosely as, “What happened to me?”

  Apparently the nurse speaks mumble-ese. “You were in a nasty accident. You have a few broken bones, including your ribs, which punctured one of your lungs. You’re lucky to be alive. Apparently there was a young woman on the scene that pulled you out of your car and provided first aid until the paramedics arrived.”

  An image of my hallucination girl flashes through my mind, but it’s blurry, and all I can really remember is her blue hair.

  “Now, I know you just woke up, but I want to see how well your thinker’s thinking.” She smiles again, and I swear the lights brighten. “According to the documents in your car and wallet, they say that your name is Lyden Snow, correct?”

  “Hrmf,” I reply positively.

  “It’s okay. You don’t need to talk. Just blink once for yes, twice for no,” she tells me cheerily.

  I blink once.

  “Good! I like that name. It sounds strong. Now then. . .” she trails off as she consults her notebook. “We couldn’t seem to find any next of kin. It looks like your biological parents died some years ago by drowning in a lake. I’m truly sorry about that.” The way she talks, I have no doubt that she truly is saddened by my parent’s death. “No siblings and no extended relations we could find. Is that correct?”

  One blink.

  “It would seem that you’re slightly accident prone, also. Our records indicate that another young woman found you by the lake almost two days after your parents drowned. You’d been presumed dead until the girl found you.” Her blue eyes seem to bore into me with her questions. “How did you survive two whole days by that lake?”

  I blink three times, not really able to answer her. The truth is that I really don’t know. I’d only been a kid at the time, and barely remember any of it. Brooke had found me on the beach, and I’d been in foster care till I was sixteen, when I’d struck out on my own. Brooke has always kept tabs on me, though, and even lives in the same apartment complex that I do now.

  “Do you have a girlfriend or significant other we can contact?”

  Two blinks. If only I had the courage to ask Brooke out. Many times I’ve been tempted to ask her on a date, but I’ve always been too intimidated by her beauty.

  “Were you alone in the car at the time of the accident?”

  I pause as I consider how to answer, and she notices my hesitation, one of her delicate eyebrows arching at my delay. I blink once.

  “Hmm, are you sure? Your pants were u
ndone, and there was evidence that there may have been. . . um. . . some sort of sexual situation that caused the accident.”

  I try not to blink at all, not really knowing how to answer. I don’t even want to look her in the eyes, embarrassed by the thought of getting my dick sucked by a fantasy. After a few seconds she nods to herself and comes over to look at the medical equipment. Her name tag says Angela, and somehow I can make out the soft scent of vanilla and flowers. She jots a few things down on her clipboard and then heads for the door. She stops in the doorway and turns back to me, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I told you I was real, and now I know you can hear me.”

  Despite the shock I feel at her words, and the pain my body is still in, her voice somehow makes my cock grow hard instantly.

  * * * *

  Over the next month as I go through physical therapy, and my body knits itself back together, I don’t see Angela again. There are a few times I suspect that I see her, but it’s always out of the corner of my eyes, and by the time I turn, the image is gone.

  Well, I should say that I don’t see her when I’m awake. When I’m asleep and dreaming, she seems to be all I see. We never talk in my dreams, but always have sex. Sometimes she comes to me in the punk form I saw at work, and sometimes she comes to me in her nurse alter ego. Every night, I cum, and every morning I wake up and have to clean out my underwear from the night’s wet dream. With all the privacy afforded to me in the hospital, this doesn’t go unnoticed.

  The rate at which I’m healing and recovering doesn’t go unnoticed either. What should have taken months to heal, took barely a single month.

  “Do you think it’s all the testosterone in his system?” I happen to hear one nurse say, then clam up as she notices I’m close by. By the flush that spreads across her cheeks, there is no doubt she’s talking about me.

  The day I’m finally released to my own care is dark and overcast as rain threatens to break at any moment from the ugly clouds above.