Darkstalkers - Aensland Chronicles

The Aensland Chronicles
Part One: Child Abuse
By Ron Hino

Morrigan Aensland and other Darkstalker characters belong to Capcom.

Let me start out by saying that this is not really a lemon. It is, however,
a story about succubae: lust demonesses. There is, therefore, an awful lot
of sexual content being discussed here, if not actual graphically-described
sex scenes. In addition, talking about life in Hell and the day-to-day
business of demons and demonesses creates a lot of imagery that most people
would find at least a little disturbing, myself included.

Consider yourself warned.

________________________________________________________________________________

Scotland, 1894


The Queen of the Night, Morrigan Aensland, was fucking a mortal.

This was hardly a notable circumstance. As a succubus, she was quite often
fucking someone. It was merely part of her nature. What was more
interesting (and likely to inspire quite a scandal among her fellow succubae
back in hell if they ever found out) was that she had fucked this particular
mortal before, many times in fact.

Not that she fucked only him, of course. Though she was more famous for her
somewhat atypical interest in combat, the succubus queen had the same
inclinations as any of her sisters. In any given week, her bedchambers in
her castle were frequented by mortal men, women, demi-humans and high-level
daemons.

The standard process when a succubus fucked a mortal was thus: tempt him (or her, in some cases), screw him, and finally suck the foolish mortal's soul
from his body, feeding off him as he might eat a cow. A drained husk was
all that would remain, leaving the mortal's kin to either fear a coming
plague, or if they managed to correctly recognize the signs of demonic
influence, sanctify the body and burn the remains with the aid of a priest
(as if it weren't already too late, the fools!)

Strangely, this was not what Morrigan had done when she had first come to
feed off this mortal in the usual fashion. There had just been something
about the words he whispered into her ear as they took turns licking the
sweat from each other's body that made her want to let him live long enough
to say more. She'd let him keep his soul when it came time for her to leave
(even she wasn't sure just why) and some months later, decided to visit the
man again. This became something of a routine. Each time she came, she was
determined to take his soul after their lovemaking, and each time, she found
that by the time they were finished, she no longer wanted to. Strange.

Now, as she lay cuddled up to the man who had (despite her frequent denials)
become her lover, he planted a gentle kiss on her sweaty forehead and asked
her a question no one who knew her well would have dared.

"So, me Love, tell me about yer life as a wee lass?"

She lifted her head and stared at him incredulously. "Ye want to know about
me childhood? Growin' up in 'ell?" He had figured out she wasn't human
some time ago. The fact that he hadn't run screaming might have been one of
the reasons she kept coming back.

He chuckled. "Aye. I'm fascinated in just what it takes to make a woman of
yer unique qualities."

She snorted and lay back down. "If I told ye, ye'd probably 'ave nightmares."

"Oh come on, tell me." He coaxed, pecking her forehead once more. "I'm of
a mind to know ye better, me Love."

She sighed and shook her head. What a bizarre mortal he was! "Oh very
well, me dear fool. I suppose I might tell ye a little."

"There's a lass."

"It's not a nice tale, y'know. 'ell's not a place for ideal upbringings."

"It's yer tale, Love. That's enough to have me on the edge of me seat right
there."

"I dinnae know where I might start..."

"Start at the beginning, Love. Yer first memory."

"Well... I suppose I should tell ye right off. Me mother didn't want to
'ave me."

"Oh 'ere now! Surely she can't have been disappointed with a fine lass like ye!
Ye must 'ave imagined it."

"Nay, she told me as much when I was a small girl."

"Why the devil would she do a nasty thing like that?"

Morrigan gave her lover a flat stare. "Ye'd be forgetting that she was a
demoness."

"...Oh."

Morrigan shook her head wearily and began her tale...


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


"Mother, do I have a father?" An eight-year-old Morrigan asked of her
mother, the lady Aensland.

The beautiful and stately succubae lady sneered at sight unseen and bit out
a terse reply. "No, Morrigan. You did once, but I killed the fool."

Little Morrigan's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because he got me pregnant with you, naturally. I had no wish to have
children, and certainly not the bastard spawn of a filthy mortal! Now be off
with you. I've a 'friend' about to visit, and it won't do to have you
underfoot. You'd think you'd have gotten the hint after you walked in on me and
Lord Aragon that last time. He very nearly ripped out your innards, you know.
You should be grateful I bothered to stop him."

Morrigan shamefully bowed her head. "Yes Mother. Thank you again for
letting me live another day." It was something her mother often liked to
hear, and had insisted upon it daily since her daughter was old enough to talk. Being only a child, she never quite understood why her tummy trembled when she said it; she only knew that she didn't like having to say it very much.

Lady Aensland nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, get out. Go see Opal. I'm
sure she has work for you."

Morrigan winced. "But mother! I hate dream duty! Opal always sends me to
the dreams of those mean old pee...peido..."

"Pedophiles, child. They're called pedophiles. They're the only sorts
who'd want to spend time with an underdeveloped little whelp like you. At
least you're of some use. Maybe when you see fit to finally grow yourself
some boobs you can move up to the fantasies of teenage boys. Personally, I
thought a filthy little half-breed like you would welcome the opportunity to
spend time with some of your human kin."

Morrigan winced again. Her shameful human heritage was something her mother
wasn't shy about bringing up from time to time. Still, she was a succubus,
and sex was, or at least should have been, as natural to her as breathing.
What she hated most about dream duty with the pedophiles, was that their
desires defined her reality within their dreams. If they wanted her to be a
virgin again, she was, complete with a hymen to be painfully ripped to
shreds by something far too large for her to comfortably take (their
imagination also defined the size of their own endowments). If they wanted
it to hurt, it did. If they wanted her to cry, she had plenty of cause to do so.

Some of the other succubae on dream duty (who were all fully-grown) took
pity on the unfortunate, inexperienced child. The lower ranking among them
occasionally drew pedophile dreams as well, and had learned to shift their
bodies into the form of children. However, they had the experience to
shield themselves from actually experiencing the pain. To them, it was only
an act (if a distasteful one). They were trying to teach Morrigan better
control of her powers, but the girl was still quite young, and her human
heritage impeded a steeper learning curve. So far, she didn't require much
acting talent to scream in pain.

Her mother was elite, part of the succubae nobility, and quite famous for
her skills. All the older succubae she spoke to kept telling her that she would learn faster if she paid more attention to her mother's lessons back home.

Morrigan was too ashamed to tell them that her mother couldn't be bothered
to teach the half-breed anything.

Every day after Morrigan came home, her mother would ask her about her work,
and Morrigan would be required to relive each horrifying encounter again in
the retelling. It went a long way in numbing her to her own misery.

So passed the days and months and years in the timeless underworld.
Morrigan slowly grew, and with age came experience. Her shapeshifting
skills were still not on par with those of most of her coworkers, but she
was no longer completely at the mercy of her clients' dreams. She'd learned
by now how to shift her eye and hair colour, along with her facial features,
to whatever her clients wished. She could look like their daughters, or
neighbor's daughters, in order to please them. However, she could only
manage to shift her age a few years in either direction, either as old as 15
or as young as 10.

This limitation actually benefited her somewhat. The clients who wanted
girls as young as five or six had to be served by succubae who could shift
their forms that young. The 12-year-old Morrigan was promoted from
pedophile cases to lolita complex cases. This allowed her a little bit of
leeway in how much she was expected to hurt for the men's pleasure. She was
still required to become a virgin almost every single time, however. The
pain of thrice nightly deflowering was an old companion by now.


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


The Queen of the night paused in her tale as she noticed that her lover's
arm around her shoulders was squeezing her a bit too tight, and a glance to
his face showed that he was beginning to grow a bit pale. The light-hearted
grin that always seemed to be on his face had been replaced with a very
uncomfortable look.

"Would ye like me to stop now, dear fool? I warned ye 'twas not a tale for
the faint of heart."

"Ne'er mind me, m'love." He whispered. "I'll gladly take the burden of yer
tale an' share its weight with ye. But if it pains ye to continue, I'll not
ask ye to."

Morrigan snorted. "Idiot! Do ye nae know who I am by now? I'll admit 'twas
not a lot of fun for me at the time, but I'm stronger now for it. An' I've
done the same or worse to others in me time."

"Somehow," he said quietly, "I cannae imagine ye bein' quite so cruel as ye
boast, but that may just be me love for ye doin' the talking."

"Then yer a fool twice over, ye are." Morrigan grumbled. "Once for not
believin' what I say, and again for thinkin' ye love me."

He grinned at her. "Aye, but I'm happy in me foolishness, me Love."

"Truer words never spoke, me Fool." The Queen of the Night sighed. "Now
then, were ye wantin' me to go on with me story or not? It brings me no
pain to tell it," she lied, "but it might bring ye more to hear it."

"That bein' the state o' things, please do." He said, his arm squeezing her
in a more affectionate manner than before.

She sighed. He was such a fool.


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


The souls of the damned believe there is no sympathy to be found anywhere in
Hell, and as far as their own treatment is concerned, they are quite correct.
However, among the ranks of some classes of demons, it does exist, even if
it rarely is spoken of. They *are* evil beings, after all. Demonic sympathy
is very limited both in its nature and to whom it is offered.

One such example of limited sympathy was offered to Morrigan when she was
the equivalent of 14 years old. One of her fellow succubae traded a dream
assignment with her for the difficult one Morrigan had originally been assigned.

It changed her entire life.

Morrigan was happy to accept, even if she had no idea what she was in for.
She was tired of violent rapists and fumbling adolescents who had no idea
how to *really* make a woman enjoy the sex act, if they cared at all. By
her mother's discrete direction, Opal, the succubus in charge of dream
assignments, normally gave the more unpleasant assignments to Morrigan.
Exactly what the arrangement was between Opal and her mother, she never
knew, believing that her assignments were given to her based on her ability
(or lack thereof).

Her fellow dream-visiting succubae felt a bit sorry for her, as she seemed
to have terrible luck when drawing assignments. This unspoken pity
eventually prompted one of them to trade with her.

"How is this one different from the one I'd been given?" She asked her
older coworker.

"Well, the dreamer seems to be in love with the subject of his dreams."

"In love?" Morrigan blinked. "What's that mean?"

The other succubus smiled. "It changes the whole tone of the encounter.
You'll see what I mean. Have fun!"

Morrigan blinked. Fun? What was she talking about? Dream assignments were
never fun. Confused and a bit curious, Morrigan entered the dream, and
relaxed her limited control over the shape the dream would take. She wanted
to see how this human man would shape a dream-girl with whom he was 'in
love'.

She felt her features shift and change. She was now Chinese, with her hair
done up in some sort of balls. A silk pantsuit clung tightly to her
attractive curves.

These changes of fashion were minor, however, when compared to the drastic
differences in her body. Becoming shorter was no great surprise to her,
since she had shifted from essentially Caucasian to Oriental. It was the
feeling of her whole body tightening up with powerful muscles that drew her
attention. Nearly all of her previous assignments had required her to be
soft-bodied, yet slender; only as physically fit as necessary for her to
an an attractive figure. Since that was pretty much the state of her
normal body, the changes were minor if any. This time was different. This
time she had the body of a hardened athlete. She felt strong, powerful, and
that feeling gave rise to a sense of confidence she'd never felt before.

Then she noticed her client. He was Chinese as well, not surprisingly, and
though he wore white robes which were far more loose-fitting than her own
garments, she could sense that his body possessed the same type of lean yet
powerful musculature as her own.

He stood confidently and pointed a finger at her. She felt a thrill (given
to her primarily from the man's expectations of his dream) at the strong,
imposing figure he cut.

"Xian Pu! I challenge you for your hand in marriage!" He demanded.

By his dream's direction, she felt a sly smile tug at her lips. She was
still making no effort to control this dream, letting him shape it as he
wished. This was something very different from the type of dream she was
used to, and she was curious as to how it would go.

"I accept, Mu Si." Her voice spoke, in the same dialect of Chinese he was
using. "Let us see if you can finally prove yourself worthy of me."

Morrigan felt her body take up a combat stance she had no idea how to
perform in reality. As the two began to fight, she realized how wise she
had been not to attempt to take control over this dream. Without the skills
impressed upon her by this man's imagination, she would have been in for
quite a beating.

Which was not to say she was winning this fight. She began separating
herself from the pain her dream-body was experiencing, a skill she'd
*finally* mastered out of necessity. It had no effect on the flow of the
dream; this 'Xian Pu' she was imitating still reacted as though each blow to
her body hurt a little, though not as much as Morrigan thought it should.
If the boy had hit *her* this hard, and this many times, Morrigan was sure
she'd already be on the ground in tears, yet this 'Xian Pu' was still
fighting ferociously. With the mental separation in place, Morrigan studied
the fight intently.

Blows were being exchanged between the two combatants at speeds the young
succubus could scarcely believe. How could he move so fast and still
maintain control of his movements? For that matter, how could she? It
didn't seem possible to her. Maybe it was just an exaggeration of reality
brought on by the man's dream, but it didn't seem that way.

The fight lasted long, but eventually, the boy won out (it *was* his dream
after all). Morrigan, in her dream-body, lay on her back, unconscious.
Morrigan herself was aware of what was going on, of course, so she watched
as Mu Si gently scooped up her unconscious body and carried her away to a
house, laying her down on a cot.

Supposedly, had this been reality, Mu Si would have patiently waited several
hours for Xian Pu to come to. This being a dream however, that long, boring
period was skipped over, and Mu Si had only waited for a few moments,
drinking in the girl's pretty face as she slept comfortably, her bruises
healing rapidly over the course of his 'wait'. Such was the pseudo-reality
of dreams.

Xian Pu came awake, feeling disoriented. "I... I lost?" She stammered in shock.

Mu Si smiled kindly down at her. "Yes, Xian Pu. I am now your husband."

The man's dream version of this girl Xian Pu's eyes filled with tears of
joy. "Oh, Mu Si! I've waited so long for you, hoping this day would come!
I love you, my husband!"

Mu Si knelt beside her cot, taking her hand in both his own. "Oh Xian Pu!
Finally you accept my love for you!"

"Yes, Mu Si! You are worthy of me. You're so strong and manly! Take me,
my husband!"

As clothes vanished without being physically removed, and the dream moved on
to the more normal work of a succubus-induced dream, Morrigan puzzled over
the new concepts she'd been introduced to. Love? Marriage? These ideas
were difficult for her to grasp, so she thought instead about the fight
before. That had been most unusual. She'd felt so incredibly powerful,
wearing the body of Xian Pu. She'd never felt like that in her life!

After a moment, Morrigan returned her attention to the sex... or rather, the
lovemaking. This too was very different than she was used to. As was
almost always the case, Mu Si had wanted her to be a virgin, but the
deflowering he imagined was very different than most of her former clients
had wanted Morrigan to experience. It had hardly hurt at all, only a slight
discomfort, causing her to bite her lip, and proving to him that his Xian Pu
had indeed been a virgin, though she didn't actually bleed. Even that
discomfort faded almost immediately, allowing them both to enjoy their
lovemaking without anything detracting from the pleasure. Mu Si didn't want
her to feel pain, only pleasure, and he seemed to have a realistic idea of
what he had to do to make that happen.

Morrigan had been directed by her clients to have an orgasm before (though
often not) but the expectations of the client (usually a boy of about 13)
had been completely unrealistic, so only the dream-body Morrigan was
projecting would actually experience the orgasm.

This time, Morrigan came. She, the succubus who had never yet experienced
her own orgasm, came.

Several times, in fact.

She would wonder later if the powerful feelings of affection pouring into
her from the young man were the cause, or perhaps it was just that he felt a
deep need to earn each one of her orgasms. As a matter of fact, the
dreaming Mu Si didn't allow himself to cum until he'd been successful in
bringing her off three times. Only then did he feel it was right for him to
experience that pleasure for himself.

The dream ended with the two lovers falling asleep in each other's arms,
Xian Pu expressing her love for him many times before it was over. One
can't actually fall asleep within a dream, of course, so what actually
happened was that the dreaming Mu Si shifted into a dreamless slumber, from
which he would eventually wake up in the real world with a sticky mess in
his bedding.

The dream assignment had left Morrigan feeling very satisfied (a feeling she
was completely unaccustomed to) and also very confused.

'Is that what love is like?' She wondered. Love was something the young
succubus had never experienced before, in any form. Her mother didn't love
her, certainly, and before now she'd never known the love of a man, even
vicariously through a dream. She didn't feel Mu Si's love to any great
degree, naturally, as it had been directed solely towards that girl, Xian
Pu, but she'd had a taste of it. Even still, it only left her feeling confused.

She thought instead of how it felt to be the warrior Xian Pu; to be so
strong, powerful, and confident. Those feelings were new to her as well,
but they were easier for her to comprehend.

She liked feeling like that.


As she sat alone in a distant corner of the demon realm, Morrigan stood and
tried to get into that defensive stance Xian Pu had started in. It was
awkward, and inexpertly done, but it was a start.

She went through the motions of the fight slowly, one by one. She had to
make adjustments for her longer limbs and slightly different weight, as well
as the fact that her wings created drag and affected her balance, but she
made slow and gradual progress.

Time is difficult to explain in a place like hell, where there is no day or
night, but for the equivalent of the next several months, Morrigan practiced
the dream-fight over and over, trying to get her demonic body to move as
smoothly as the dream-body of Xian Pu had done. Whenever she had spare
time, she practiced the fight as though it were her own private dance. She
might not have known what aa waa was, but she was essentially practicing one.

When she'd finally perfected the movements themselves, she began thinking
about how they'd come about. Mu Si had thrown a punch to her head, so she'd
blocked with her left arm and then executed the counter punch with her
right. By analyzing the fight in this way, the dance she'd been practicing
began to make more sense. She broke the dance down into specific movements, imagining an opponent striking at her like Mu Si had done, then countering
the movement as he'd imagined Xian Pu doing. She realized that not every
fight would go exactly like that one had, so she also began practicing the
moves with the opposite side of her body; if Mu Si had thrown a left
roundhouse kick and Xian Pu had blocked with her right arm, Morrigan
imagined him kicking with the right leg and her blocking with the left arm.
After she'd mastered all the individual moves, she put them together into a
new fighting dance, a mirror image of the first one she'd learned.

She kept practicing the moves until they all seemed smooth, and almost as
fast as both the Chinese fighters had performed them.

Both fighters?

Aha! She'd figured out something more that she could practice! Mu Si's
movements! Another month was spent practicing the fight from Mu Si's point
of view, favoring both the left and right sides.

Once she'd mastered that though, there didn't seem to be any more that
Morrigan could do on her own. She reluctantly admitted that she needed to
experience more fights for her to practice.

She went to the older succubus who had traded her the assignment with Mu Si
and begged her to give her any assignments she came across with men who
liked female fighters.

The other woman was a little surprised. That hadn't been the part of that
assignment she'd thought little Morrigan would like. She herself didn't see
the appeal of getting beaten up before sex. On the other hand, she couldn't
remember the last time she'd seen the normally subdued half-human succubus
this excited about anything, so she agreed. Not only that, but she talked
to a few of the other dream-agents and got them to agree too. It wasn't all
that difficult. Assignments that involved non-sex-related violence weren't
the worst to be had, but they weren't especially popular either.

And so, Morrigan found the martial arts lessons she craved, in the wet
dreams of the world's fighters.

***

"Hey, Morrigan!" One of her coworkers, an older succubus named Aurora,
whispered to her one day while they waited for their assignments. "Have you
been exercising or something?"

Morrigan blinked at the odd question. "Well... sort of. Why do you ask?"

The older woman gave her a strange look. "Because you're starting to look a
bit buffed."

"'Buffed'?"

"You know, muscular." Aurora elaborated, squeezing Morrigan's tight bicep.
"See?"

"Oh!" Morrigan blinked, reaching over to squeeze her own arm, flexing the
muscle, making it bulge. "I guess you're right. I hadn't even noticed."

"I don't know why you're bothering to exercise." The older woman said,
shaking her head in amusement. "We're succubae; we can't get fat. Even if
we could, sex is plenty of exercise by itself."

Morrigan looked away shyly. "I... I do it for my own reasons."

"Well, maybe you should stop. I mean, most men like their women to be soft
to the touch, not hard as a rock."

Morrigan's mind was instantly filled with images of her favorite clients
these days, the fighters who were attracted to strong women; the ones who
respected women who were powerful and knew how to fight. They not only
didn't mind muscular women, they *preferred* them! She decided not to
mention this aloud. Morrigan had few enough people who were kind to her;
she didn't have anything to gain by getting into an argument with Aurora.

"I can shift my form into something weaker and softer if I have to." She
said instead.

Aurora blinked. "Morrigan... why did you say 'weaker'? What does that have
to do with it?"

Morrigan looked away, wondering if she should risk telling her semi-friend
this. "I... I like being strong. It means I don't have to be so afraid."

Aurora frowned in concern and leaned closer to the subdued and lonely young
girl, who seemed able to bring out whatever slight maternal instincts her
coworkers had. "What is it that you're afraid of, Morrigan?"

Morrigan wondered that herself. She wondered why the image of her scowling
mother had flown into her mind the minute Aurora had asked that question.
She wondered why Opal's face appeared next. She said nothing.

"Morrigan!" Barked Opal from the assignment desk. The young succubus stood
obediently and walked forward to accept her next assignment.

"Here." Opal grunted, handing Morrigan the appropriate dream crystal.
"You'll like this one." She smirked cruelly. "I picked it out just for
you. I've been hearing rumors about you switching assignments with other
dream-workers for ones where you get beaten up. Your mother would be
delighted to see such a strong masochistic streak growing within you;
perfect for a little half-breed dog who belongs on the bottom. This one's
the dream of a real psychopath; a man who likes slicing up women and
fornicating with their bleeding innards while they're still squirming.
You'll like that, won't you little Morrigan?" The ancient succubus said
with a cruel sneer.

Morrigan hung her head as a shiver of dread traveled up her spine. She'd had
many horrible assignments during her years here, but this one had to be the
most nauseating! She hadn't cried after an assignment since she was 9, but
she suspected she would be after this. Some mortals didn't deserve to have
their sick dreams fulfilled by succubae, she thought.

"Yes, Mistress Opal." Morrigan muttered obediently, even as her heart
hammered in fear. She stood there for a long moment, Aurora looking on in
sympathetic misery. Obviously the young half-human had done something to
irritate Opal, or she wouldn't have earned such a distasteful assignment.

"Wondering why I decided to give you such a lovely dream to fulfill?" Opal
taunted her.

Morrigan said nothing, just continued to stare at the floor.

"It should be obvious." Opal scowled. "Have a look at yourself in a mirror
sometime. I don't know what you've been doing to bulk yourself up like
that, and I don't care. That's not the sort of look a weak little
half-breed like you should have. You're meant to look as soft and weak as
you are, a toy for mortal men to use for their pleasure, to be cast aside
when you're no longer useful. And that's what will happen to you if you
don't lose all that hard muscle fast! From now on, and until you've
softened up again, all your assignments are going to be as unathletic as
possible! You're going to be bound, handcuffed, or otherwise restrained
from any movement for your next 200 dreams! Any questions?"

Morrigan began to tremble. Being bound, in and of itself, was not that bad.
It was what men of the type that preferred her tied and helpless would do
to her in that state that concerned her. "What... what do you mean by
'otherwise restrained?" 'Bound' meant tied up with ropes, leather straps,
or (not that Opal would be that nice) silk strips. 'Handcuffed' meant hard,
uncomfortable steel. She couldn't presently think of any other means of
keeping her immobile.

Opal's smile was not in any way meant to reassure the young half-human
trembling across from her desk. "Oh, well let me see what I have here... A
yes, there's this fellow, who will break both your arms before raping you.
There was another guy... where is it... Ah, here we go. We have a client
who will want you to be a quadruple amputee before he sticks it in you, and
before you ask, yes he is going to cut off your limbs in the same dream."

Aurora was a full-blooded succubus, and had been working in dreams for many
times Morrigan's lifespan. She had seen nearly every sort of perversion
that the human mind could conceive. Despite all of this, she would have had
at least a little difficulty putting up with any *one* of these sick
fantasies Opal was describing. The idea of putting the younger,
less-experienced Morrigan through such horrors one after another made her
want desperately to vomit. Even if she lived to be as old as Opal, Aurora
doubted she could ever become so cruel.

Which was why Opal was as high up in the hierarchy as she was, naturally.

Despite her discomfort, Aurora made no move to help Morrigan or intercede on
her behalf against Opal. Nor would Morrigan have expected her to. This was
not the mortal realm; this was Hell. Sympathy was acceptable as far as it
went, but the primary law that even the nicest (relatively speaking) demon
or demoness followed was 'look out for #1'. Opal did not seem to be in the
best of moods, and pissing her off would no doubt land Aurora with an
assignment list similar to the one Morrigan was now facing.

This did not mean that Aurora didn't feel bad about what was happening to
Morrigan, especially when she considered how slim a chance the half-human
Morrigan's young mind had of surviving the barrage of tortures ahead. In
point of fact, she felt horrible about it, but that horror was not enough to
breach the cultural and instinctive barriers of her demonic mind and sacrifice
herself to help another. Morrigan was on her own.

"Well?" Opal sneered at the deathly pale girl in front of her. "You've got
your assignment. Get going!"

With her hands shaking so badly that she nearly dropped the dream crystal,
Morrigan concentrated on it, and slipped into the mortal's dream.

She was given a bare minimum of information in order to fit into the
mortal's dream. She wasn't expected to be anybody specific, just an
attractive young woman walking the streets alone after dark. This mortal
was obviously a predator in every sense of the word. Morrigan felt numb
with fear.

As she walked down the poorly-lit street, conscious of the human monster
following behind her, she wondered why a succubus should fear a mortal. It
was ridiculous, really. *She* was the demon, the true monster mortals were
meant to fear in their nightmares. Even these sexual dreams the succubae
provided for the mortals were supposed to be a subtle form of attack.
Encouraging mortal men to act on their primal desires without morality
impeding them in their dreams raised the likelihood that they would act on
them while awake, in many cases staining their souls and helping them earn
their way to Hell once they died.

*She* was supposed to be the monster he feared, not the other way around!
Perhaps it was her human blood that made her weak, made her afraid like
this. That was certainly the idea her mother and Opal seemed to want her to
get used to. She was half-human, therefore she deserved to be a victim.

Morrigan felt an emotion begin to rise within her that she had rarely ever
felt in her life. Anger. If she was half-human, she was also
half-succubus; half-demon! No mortal should be preying on her! It should
be the reverse!

And so with this new rage burning in her belly, Morrigan turned around to
face the human monster, who had followed her into a dimly-lit alley.

One predator soon discovered himself facing another of a different sort;
very different, which became apparent as Morrigan's demonic wings sprouted
from her back and head. Her green eyes glowed with unholy fury, and her
mouth opened in a snarl, bearing for his frightened eyes her long, inhuman
fangs. Smooth, soft arms, lacking anywhere near the strength needed to push
off a man of his size, gradually tightened with powerful, sinewy muscle.

What was to be a very satisfying sexual dream, meant to solidify and
encourage the filthy mortal's evil tastes, quickly became his worst nightmare.

And his last.

Some time ago, Morrigan had begun trying her hand at directing the fights
she experienced in her borrowed dream assignments. She employed the skills
she'd learned and fought for real. She'd had to lose each time, of course,
since the dreams wouldn't progress to the sex otherwise, but the young
succubus had gradually been forced to hold more and more back in order to
lose each battle. She had become a strong and skilled fighter, no longer
needing to borrow skills from the women she impersonated in the dreams. She
was a warrior.

This demonic warrior now employed those same skills to tear her opponent
apart. They say one cannot truly feel pain within a dream, but most dreams
are not being controlled by an angry demoness. Morrigan beat him, broke
him, and hurt him. She hurt him for hours, dragging the nightmare out until
she had tested every technique she knew upon his battered and bleeding body,
and a few she made up on the spot. He should have died a dozen times over
from the wounds she inflicted upon him, but she exercised her influence over
the dream she now controlled and forced him to live on. In her own mind,
she was not just fighting a sick mortal who'd wanted to hurt her. She was
fighting Opal for giving her to him, and her mother for giving her to Opal.
She was punishing all the people who wanted to hurt her.

And it felt damn good!

Finally, once she was satisfied, she allowed the tormented dreaming mortal
to collapse to the ground. He was finally dying.

Dying in a dream is not supposed to be possible either. Normally, one wakes
up abruptly just before that happens. The mind cannot imagine something it
has never experienced, and the stark terror it feels at the approach of such
an event is enough for the mind to bring the dream to a screeching halt.

When your dream is being controlled by a demoness, that can't happen unless
she allows it. Morrigan was controlling the dream, and she was not about to
let it end until she was good and ready. Yet, at her feet, the mortal was dying.

When his mind could no longer conceive of any reason he should still be
alive, it accepted the death as fact. A small, glowing miasma flowed up
from the dream body; the man's immortal soul.

Acting on instincts she didn't even know she had, Morrigan drew the soul to
her. She opened her mouth far wider than a human jaw should be able to
stretch, and sucked the soul into her body. She could feel it in her belly,
a warm ember as soothing as a hot meal in winter.

And it gave her something else she had never felt; a rush of incredible power!

Regardless of the opinions of Opal and her mother, Morrigan was indeed a
succubus; a demoness. She was by nature an evil being, even if they
considered her personality somewhat lacking in evil qualities. The soul
she'd just devoured was inarguably that of a very evil man, and filled her
with power that was her birthright.

It was such a rush! Her whole body sung with energy! She had never felt so
strong! This power was different in many fundamental ways from the strength
of sinew she'd developed by training. It was pure, demonic energy, like the
kind her mother could wield; the kind she said a half-breed like Morrigan
would never be able to use.

Grinning from ear to ear, Morrigan decided she'd finished with the dead
mortal's dream, and returned to hell.

***

Almost from the very moment Morrigan appeared in Opal's office, the ancient
succubus was yelling at her. Morrigan had never seen Opal so incensed! Any
other day, Morrigan would be cringing in terror by now, but she just felt
too strong for cringing at the moment.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" Opal screamed. "YOU KILLED HIM!
YOU KILLED THE MORTAL! HE'S LYING DEAD IN HIS BED IN HIS APPARTMENT RIGHT NOW! HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID! WHAT GOOD IS HE TO US DEAD?"

"Well, he's certainly done me more good dead than he would have alive."
Morrigan smirked.

Opal trembled in fury. "You... you insolent little half-breed whelp!
You'll pay for this!"

Morrigan smirked. How weak Opal seemed to be to her now, how impotent her
rage; like a yapping dog. She couldn't believe she was ever afraid of this
bitter little bureaucrat! "You know, I'm beginning to think of myself not so
much as a half-breed, but as a hybrid; stronger than the sum of my parts. So
no, I don't think you'll be making me pay for this, Opal."

Opal's face was nearly purple with rage. She tore around her desk and
stalked up to Morrigan, glaring down at the slightly shorter girl. "YOU
WILL ADDRESS ME AS MISTRESS OPAL, HALF-BREED!"

Totally fearless, Morrigan smirked up at her superior. "I think not."

Opal barely saw the blow that knocked her back over her desk. abilability
to monitor the dreams other succubae were working on was extremely limited.
She didn't know how the mortal had died, or what means Morrigan had employed
to kill him. Certainly she didn't have any idea that the young half-bred
succubus had consumed the mortal's soul, or that she even knew such was
possible.

All Opal knew was that the punch had hurt a very great deal, and that more
were probably on their way.

Opal was well over 1000 years old. She was not about to let some little
half-breed *child* get the better of her. She rose from where she'd fallen,
and snarled as she leapt at the smirking, pale-green-haired little brat.
She lashed out, her fingers curled into claws, and was shocked when Morrigan
simply leaned away from the vicious blow.

The smirking half-succubus folded her arms and waited for her elder to
attack again, seeming completely unconcerned.

Opal struck again and again, but Morrigan would just dodge, with the bare
minimum of motion and effort, and continue smirking at the older succubus.

"You're a slippery little worm, I'll admit." Opal panted. "But let's see
you dodge THIS!"

Morrigan raised an expectant eyebrow, not impressed. Her eyes widened,
however, when Opal's fists began to glow with a sickly yellow light.
Morrigan took a defensive fighting stance, preparing for something more
serious.

"SOUL FIST!"

Opal thrust both fists forward, firing off the energy of a soul she'd
consumed long ago, back in her younger days. It would leave her slightly
weaker for its loss, but she had a few others inside her body to sustain her
powers, even if they were getting a bit old and stale by now.

Morrigan, having no idea what the impact of the ball of light would do to
her if it hit (and having no desire to find out) leapt completely over the
ball, hovering briefly in the air by way of her larger wings, as it impacted
the stone wall of Opal's office behind her. She heard a faint scream from
the ball as it dissipated; apparently the old and weary soul's agony as it
faced oblivion.

Morrigan landed gently as Opal fell to one knee, gasping at the effort of
using that attack after all these centuries sitting behind her desk. The
fact that expending the soul left her weaker overall 't h't helping in the
least. She had a few more she could fire off at the brat, but if she didn't
catch her breath first, the strain itself might kill her.

"That was a very interesting technique." Morrigan commented. "If I'm
right, that was a soul which you had consumed, used as a weapon, yes?"

"Yes." Opal wheezed. She'd let herself get far too out of shape. "How can
you move so fast?"

"Training." Morrigan answered smugly. "Something I doubt you've put much
time into in recent centuries, if ever."

"Little... brat..." Opal wheezed.

"Now let's see." Morrigan pondered aloud. "You thrust your fists forward
like so, and then expelled the soul inside you towards your opponent?" She
mimed the action. "Let's just see if I can't manage the same trick, shall we?"

"Ha!" Opal snorted, still too drained to rise from her knees. "A little
half-breed like you could never use such a powerful demonic attack!"

Morrigan grinned cruelly, and did just that.

The soul Opal had been forced to expend had been sustaining her energy
levels for almost eight centuries, and while it could never be completely
used up in that fashion, it was far from as powerful as it had been the day
she'd consumed it. Furthermore, it had been the soul of callous Chinese
warlord who didn't care much how the people in his lands suffered. It was
certainly an evil soul, but there were worse out there.

The soul Morrigan had devoured was not ten minutes old, and had belonged to
one of the most evil human beings around. Morrigan's Soul Fist not only
flew faster, but was easily ten times as powerful as the one Opal had fired
at her a moment ago.

Opal didn't even have time to scream.

Immediately, Morrigan fell to her knees, clutching her stomach, which felt
like it had been ripped out along with the soul.

"No... the power... it's gone!" She sobbed. "It's all gone!"

She watched desperately as the smoking carcass of Opal began to dissolve,
hoping Opal's soul would appear and she could devour that.

Demons do not have souls. Opal's body merely disintegrated into non-existence.

Only her well-trained and muscular body gave her the strength to rise to her
feet once more, if only after several minutes. Within half an hour,
Morrigan felt as strong as she had been before consuming the evil soul, but
after having tasted the power that such a soul had given her, it felt like
practically nothing.

Only one cure for that, Morrigan thought. She was going to have to eat more
souls.

Since there was no one presently in the office, Morrigan began digging
through the stacks of inactive dream crystals. The first one she touched
was familiar.

It belonged to the mortal, Mu Si. He was scheduled for another wet dream
tonight.

Fine, she thought. She could just enter his dream, kill him and devour his...

No. She couldn't do that. Mu Si was the one who had shown her, if
unintentionally, how to fight. He had taught her that she didn't have to be
a victim any more. She owed him better than to snuff out his life just to
increase her powers.

She carefully set Mu Si's crystal aside on Opal's desk.

Morrigan sighed and moved to another stack of crystals, recognising this one
as the stack Opal had been looking through when she described Morrigan's
next several assignments an hour ago. Yes, here was the one she'd
mentioned; the man who wanted to cut off her arms and legs and rape her as
she bled to death. As she considered devouring this one's soul, she was
pleased to find that the thought brought no feelings of guilt, but rather
anticipation and great satisfaction. Yes, this human monster would be first.


Author's note:
Apparently, I write my chapters too long for it to all fit on one page at this site, so I had to break it up. Please advance immediately to Chapter 1B
-Ron Hino