My Mother the Succubus

My Mother the Succubus

This was written for Literotica's Literotica Halloween Story Contest 2024. If you like the story, please consider rating it!

I'm afraid of my daughter.

I know it sounds bad. And believe me, it's not that I don't love her. I love her so much that it hurts every time I see her slink into the room, her eyes on the floor and a new strange book clutched against her chest.

Luna's always been a bit... different. As a kid, she loved ghost stories. Instead of wanting to go to the park like a normal kid, she'd beg me to take her to the local cemetery, or to one of the creepy abandoned houses on the edges of town. For her birthday, I'd buy her Halloween decorations instead of dolls and dresses. She loved plastic skeletons, tiny statuettes of devils, books that promised to teach her real magic. I was just happy to make her happy. I thought it was adorable. She had such a huge imagination. If she couldn't find something to scare herself with, she'd invent it, making up stories about the real ghosts who haunted our generic suburban house. And I loved playing along with her stories. When she got older, I took her on an actual ghost tour for her thirteenth birthday. She spent the entire next day hugging me, telling me over and over how lucky she was to have me as a mom, how much she loved me.

I think that might've been the happiest moment of my life.

But lately Luna's been acting really, really off. Up until the last year or so, the two of us were close. Closer than any of my friends are with their kids. She never had a moody phase, mostly because she was naturally a bit of a moody, macabre girl. Instead, I was pretty much her best friend for all of high school. She had trouble making friends with the other girls, since they all thought she was weird. But I was always there for her. It felt good, to be her partner in crime during her ghost hunting adventures, to listen to the stories she made up, to buy her things that made her happy, to try and watch scary movies with her on Friday nights, even though I'd always get scared and have to hide my eyes.

Ever since she turned eighteen, though, she won't even look at me. She stays out late and doesn't seem to sleep at all during the night. Every time she comes home, she brings another book. They're all the horror-movie kind: big leather tomes with old paper and gilded lettering. The kind of books you use to summon evil things.

And look. I don't share my daughter's belief in ghosts, or demons, or any of it. I don't think Luna's really going to summon Lucifer into our house. But if she's even trying to do something like that, then something must be wrong. Playing around with witchcraft is one thing. But she's spending so much time with her books that she doesn't even have time for me anymore.

I guess... I'm not really scared of her. I'm worried about her.

And I'm lonely. Selfishly, terribly lonely. Because even though I do have my little social group of other moms, none of them are Luna. I miss her.

Right now, I'm sitting on the couch in our living room, my hands folded in my lap. There's a glass of wine in front of me that I haven't touched. My heart is fluttering in my chest. It feels like being a teenager again, trying to subtly confess my feelings to my crush. But no, I'm just a sad middle-aged lady trying to relate to her daughter. My hair's still wet from a shower, and I'm dressed only in a loose robe and a pair of slippers.

It's past 10 at night. My eyelids are getting heavy. But I'm determined to wait up until Luna gets home.

As I'm thinking of her, I hear the sound of our garage opening. I sit upright, my throat suddenly tight. A moment later, the door opens and my daughter shuffles in.

She takes a few steps into the living room, sees me, and freezes. She's still wearing her school uniform, a plaid skirt, vest, and knee-high white socks. But it's disheveled, and it looks unwashed.

My poor Luna doesn't look very good. She's always been skinny; it's hard to get her to eat most of the time, poor thing. And spending so much time inside has left her ghostly pale. She and I have the same thick black hair. But I keep mine cut chin-length, and it's fastidiously neat at all times. Hers has grown out into a wild mane that spills down past her butt. It's lank right now, and greasy, a sure sign that she hasn't been showering lately. Her eyes are sunken in from lack of sleep, and there are dark bags under them from lack of sleep.

The second she sees me, she looks down at the floor. "H-hey, mom..."

"Hey, sweetie. Where were you?" I try not to sound confrontational. I'm just curious. Just worried.

But Luna only shuffles past me. "Fine. Everything's fine. G-goodnight." She walks downstairs into the basement, where her room is.

She didn't even look at me!

Okay, no, I'm not scared of my daughter. I'm worried, yes, but I'm also starting to get a little bit mad. I spend all day thinking of her, and she ignores me!

I stomp over to the stairs, and I'm just about to go down there and yell at her when I realize that, no, that's obviously not going to go over well. I take a few calming breaths, leaning against the wall while I wait for my heart to settle back down.

"Easy, Tara," I mumble to myself. "Even if she's an adult, she's still a teenager. Let her work through things on her own. When she's ready, she'll talk to you again."

And it sounds so easy when I put it like that.

The thing for a mature adult woman to do would be to mind my own business and let my daughter reach out to me.

But even if I'm a mature adult, I'm still selfish. I still have needs. And my daughter is one of them.

I linger at the top of the stairs, agonizing over what to do. Eventually I walk back to the couch, pick up my glass of wine, and drain it in a few quick messy gulps. A little bit runs down my chin, and I wipe it with the back of my hand. The warmth of it spreads through me, making me feel a bit more daring.

I'll go downstairs and try to talk to her, I decide. I won't yell. I'll just ask if she's okay. That's a normal mom thing to do, right?

I head back to the stairs. The lights are all off in the basement. In spite of myself, I feel a lump forming in my throat. The air wafting up from down there feels unnaturally cold. But... there's no way she's really summoning ghosts, right? There's no such thing. But as I stare down into the basement's depths, I feel icy dread spreading through my chest.

I shake my head. Get it together, Tara!

I take the first step. The stair creaks under my foot, making me wince. I creep the rest of the way down, terrified to make a sound. When I reach the basement, I push the door open and pad past the couch and the TV. Luna's door is at the far end of the room. It's cracked slightly, and I can see flickering candlelight coming from inside.

I scowl. She knows she's not supposed to bring real candles into her room. It's such a fire risk!

But I forget about the candles when I hear my daughter's voice. She's whispering something under her breath.

"Oh mistress of desire... queen of dark dreams... please grant me your presence..."

She's really trying to summon something!

I tiptoe right up to my daughter's door. And I can't help it. I peer inside.

My daughter is kneeling on the floor of her bedroom. And all of her clothing: her shoes, socks, uniform, and even her panties are piled haphazardly next to her. A ring of candles is set up on the floor in front of her, and their soft yellow light flows over Luna's slender pale body. It's... been a long time since I've seen her naked. My first thought is, wow, my Luna's way more of a beauty than she realizes.

My second thought is why am I staring at my naked daughter? And why is she naked in the first place!?

My eyes scan more of the room, trying to focus on something other than Luna's bare butt. I notice the book lying in front of her, open to a page full of spidery text. Witchcraft. I vaguely remember hearing that witches traditionally do their stuff naked. I guess Luna's just trying to get into the spirit of things.

That's... fine. I should probably give her some privacy.

But I can't make myself look away. She looks good. Not in a weird way! But she's looked so timid around me lately. Seeing her confidently weaving her spell, comfortable and happy in her own body... it's a nice sight.

Luna starts to speak. And I can't help it. I lean in, curious.

"Empress of lust, matron of all desires, please... my body yearns... but I cannot have the one I want..."

Oh God. Is Luna trying to summon a sex-demon? Okay, I should really give her privacy. Or I might see something I really don't want to see.

...

So why am I still watching?

Luna reaches out with both hands, bending toward the circle of candles. Her rear lifts up in the air, and I'm treated to a really graphic view of my daughter's bits. I try not to look. But I can't help but notice the way my poor girl's lady-parts are glistening, practically dripping with her, um, fluids.

I feel a weird mix of squicked out and sad. My little baby's pent-up. I guess it makes sense. Luna's probably having trouble finding anyone to experiment with.

Is that why she's trying to call a demon? She wants a partner?

In fact, she does keep saying queen, empress... she wants a woman as her partner?

I suppose that doesn't shock me too much. Her room is hung with posters of female goth rockers and girls with punk haircuts.

My Luna's gay. I just wish she'd trusted me enough to tell me.

"Please," Luna whispers to the darkness. "Hear my summons. I offer you anything you wish for in return." She picks up a piece of chalk in her hands and sketches a complicated shape on the hardwood floor. Then she sits back, clasping her hands in front of her. "Take her shape. Let me experience her. The one I truly desire. I am begging you..."

Oh! She must have a crush!

And she's asking a demon for help. That's... incredibly creepy, and also strangely. That's my Luna.

She bends forward again, and I notice she's holding a photograph. That must be the person she's interested in! I can't help it. I've always been a bit nosy. And I've felt so shut out of Luna's life lately, I just have to know who it is she's obsessing over. So I peek in too, trying to get a good look.

Luna sets the photograph in the center of the circle. A few beads of sweat slide down her slender shoulders and along her smooth back. As she straightens up, she holds her hands out, fingers spread.

"I know I can't have her. But I'll go crazy if I never know her body. In the sacred name of desire, grant my wish. Please. I offer you my pleasure, my flesh, my soul. But let me feel her. Come to me in the form of the one I love more than anything else. I'm burning just to know her... I love her so much..."

Aww. Poor baby. She's head over heels! I wonder who the lucky lady is. Maybe I can give Luna some subtle dating advice. It'd make me really happy, knowing she had someone taking care of that stuff for her. I crane my neck, trying to get a better look. Luna drops her hands, shuts her eyes, and takes a breath. I finally get a glimpse at the photo.

At first I'm not even really sure what I'm looking at. I must have misunderstood something, right?

Because the picture in the center of the circle is a picture of me.

Suddenly, the world is spinning around me. I take a step back from Luna's door, and I have to brace myself against the wall to keep from falling over.

That... that can't be it, right? There's no way it's me she's thinking of in there. The picture probably just looked like me because of the bad lighting, or...

No. I know what I saw.

Somehow, seeing her place my picture into the center of her little witch-circle makes all of this make sense. The awkwardness between us, the way she can't look at me anymore, her staying out late and trying not to be around me. She has a crush. The most terrible, awkward crush she could possibly have.

A crush on her own mother.

The thought makes my stomach lurch. I turn and run up the stairs as fast as I can, trying not to make any noise. I open the door to my bedroom and flop into my bed. Slick sweat is forming all over my body, so I undo my robe and chuck it off, letting the air cool my naked body. An endless storm of questions rages through my head.

How did this happen? Was it my fault? I guess I was the only person in her life for a long, long time. Maybe over all that time, as she went through her teenage years and her hormones started flaring up, she only had me to fixate on. All that teenage lovey energy got fixated on me. Should I not have been so close to her? But how could I not? She was always so shy, so sad. And I love my Luna. Even knowing she has these twisted desires for me, I love her still. I couldn't make myself leave her side even if I wanted to.

Then... what do I do? Pretend nothing's different? Go on living like a stranger to my own daughter, knowing she has secret feelings for me?

I can't. That's just too sad. I'd rather just be up front that yes, I know, and yes, it's okay. I won't judge her for her feelings, and I certainly won't hate her for them.

But that sounds even sadder, somehow. How could we ever go back to the way we used to be, knowing she has secret yearnings for me somewhere deep within her? Our lives would be changed. She'd probably want to move out eventually, and then...

...and then I'd be all alone.

Oh my God. I need her. Just as much as she needs me.

So what do I do? There's no way we can talk about this without it destroying our relationship. And I can't ignore her feelings for the rest of my life. I can't let her move out. Not yet. I'm not ready.

What do I do?

...

I know the answer. I want to fight it, but I can feel it rising up from the dark, selfish parts of me.

What if I made her dream come true?

I've always loved making Luna happy. She's been the most important thing in my life since she came into it. I loved playing along with her weird ghost-hunting games, buying her weird creepy stuff, reading her scary stories, and listening to the stories she made up. Is sharing my body with her that different?

Yes. Yes, it totally is!

But if it's what would make her happy...

I press my hand against my chest. There's a sliver of red-hot pressure there, and I can feel my heartbeat thudding through my fingertips. Sweat is dripping down between my breasts and slicking the skin of my stomach. I run my hand along my body, down to my thighs.

Does she really want this?

Her father never even seemed like he really wanted it.

But if it's what Luna wants... it's what I'll give her.

The decision radiates through me, filling me with a strange feeling, a sort of dark confidence, like I've made a promise I'll never be able to take back.

As I lay my head against the pillow, I already know it'll be a long time before I can sleep. My body is blazing with tension, skin flushed and hot. But now, I need to plan. A giddiness starts to creep into me. I can't wait to see the look on Luna's face.

By the time I wake up the next morning, she's already at school. I slept in more than I meant to, and I'm pretty groggy as I sit up. The blanket falls away from my chest, and I realize I'm still naked. When I stand, the sheets cling to my sweaty backside. But all in all, I feel light and jittery. And it's not a bad feeling at all. In fact, as I look at the autumn sun streaming through the windows, I feel pretty wonderful.

But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous too. I'm not going to try and convince myself that last night was a dream, or that I made it all up. No, I know what I swore to myself. I promised I'd fulfill my Luna's deep, dark desires. Now that I'm actually awake and thinking about doing it, though, it seems so... crazy, right?

I shake my head. I can't get cold feet. It's this or drift apart from her. And I'll happily choose falling into sin with my daughter over losing her.

I pull a large t-shirt on over my naked body, then sit down at the couch and plop my laptop in my lap. I open up google, and my hands shake a little as I type in sex demon. I feel slightly foolish, but I get a ton of results.

Succubi. Female demons of carnal pleasure.

There's plenty of art. Truly ridiculously spicy art, of women with red skin, massive breasts, tails and horns and wings, and usually very revealing outfits. Most of the art features them seducing men, so I refine my search a bit.

Lesbian succubus.

And boom. Art, comics, real women having sex in costume...

...I'm starting to understand why Luna is into this.

Some of these women are gorgeous. I click on a few pictures, admiring the tall, curvy beauties in leather straps and fake horns. I've always appreciated seeing other women looking their best. I suppose I never thought of that as sexual. But I've really felt like much of a sexual person. Now, though, the more I stare at them, the more I'm starting to get it. The softness of women's bodies, the way the leather costumes bite into their hips, their breasts, their thighs, squeezing them and displaying all that curvy skin, practically begging the viewer to touch them...

What would Luna think if she saw me dressed like that?

The idea sends a jolt through my body. I actually make a noise, a weird throaty yelp that makes me sound a bit like a dog in heat. I quickly cover my mouth, embarrassed. I'm glad I'm the only one home.

I shut my laptop. I've got errands to run.

Since it's the middle of October, the costume shop is bustling as I pull up outside. I step out of my car, feeling like I should probably be wearing a trench coat and sunglasses, or some other kind of disguise. But I'm not doing anything weird, right? Just buying a sexy costume. Nobody has to know I'm planning to wear it for my own daughter.

Inside, I wander through a maze of aisles hung with plastic skeletons, voodoo dolls, fake blood, masks of all assortments, and tons of kids' costumes. Even with all the dirtiness on my mind, I can't help but smile fondly at all this macabre stuff. Young Luna always treated a trip to the Halloween store the way other kids would treat a visit to an amusement park. I try to control myself, but I end up grabbing a statue of a dragon skeleton curling around a piece of fake quartz. I think it'll make Luna happy. Even if my awful, selfish ideas don't work out, I can still give my baby a little present. Maybe I'll get to see her smile.

Finally I get to the aisle for adult women's costumes and... wow.

I was worried that they wouldn't have what I wanted. But instead, I've got choices.

My eyes scan over row after row of costumes in cheap plastic packaging. Sexy vampires, nurses, nuns, pirates... and then finally, demons. There are some basic costumes, just skimpy red dresses with plastic wings and a set of horns.

But Luna deserves better. I grab the Succubus Deluxe.

You could barely even call it clothing. There's only a set of fishnet stockings to cover my legs, and the top is a leotard made from crisscrossing leather straps, strategically arranged to barely hide my dirty bits once it's on. It comes with horns too, giant spiraling devil-horns attached to a headband, and a set of plastic bat wings.

I buy it. It's way more expensive than it honestly should be. But for Luna, I don't care.