2~1

The journey seemed to stretch on for an eternity, each passing moment amplifying Julian’s anxiety. Finally, the carriage lurched to a halt, signaling their arrival. As the doors swung open, Julian was met with the sight of a sprawling estate, even more opulent than anything he’d ever imagined. Manicured gardens stretched as far as the eye could see, fountains sparkled in the sunlight, and imposing stone statues guarded the entrance to a magnificent mansion. It was a world away from the simple farm he’d known, a world of unimaginable wealth and privilege.

Without a word, Duchess Zefeni rose from the carriage, her movements surprisingly graceful for a woman of her age. She didn't offer Julian a moment to adjust, to take in his surroundings. Instead, she simply reached for his hand, her grip firm and unwavering, and led him towards the mansion. Servants bowed as they passed, their faces carefully neutral, their eyes averted. Julian felt like a prize being paraded, a possession being escorted to her chambers. The interior of the mansion was even more breathtaking than the exterior, adorned with priceless works of art, intricate tapestries, and glittering chandeliers. They walked in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the Duchess’s robes and the echo of their footsteps on the marble floor. Finally, they reached a set of heavy oak doors, guarded by two stern-faced sentinels. The Duchess gave a dismissive wave to them to move.

The sentinels stepped aside, their expressions unreadable, as the Duchess pushed open the doors, revealing her bedchambers. The room was vast and opulent, dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped in silk and velvet. A roaring fireplace cast dancing shadows on the walls, illuminating antique furniture and ornate decorations. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and exotic flowers. It felt less like a bedroom and more like a royal sanctuary, a place of power and indulgence. The Duchess didn’t pause, didn’t offer Julian a moment to orient himself. She continued to hold his hand, leading him deeper into the room, towards the imposing bed.

Duchess Zefeni guided Julian to the edge of the massive bed, the silk sheets cool against his skin as she gently lowered him onto the mattress. It felt like sinking into a cloud, but the softness did little to ease his mounting anxiety. She then moved to stand before him, her shadowed face looming over his small form. The veil obscured her features, making it impossible to read her expression.

“Close your eyes.”

The Duchess breathed out the command, her voice a silken whisper that seemed to wrap around Julian, stealing the air from his lungs. It wasn’t a request, but an order, delivered with an authority that brooked no argument. The scent of her perfume intensified, filling his nostrils, making his head spin. He felt a strange compulsion to obey, a sense of helplessness washing over him. His eyelids fluttered, resisting for a moment, but the Duchess’s unwavering gaze, even obscured by the veil, was too powerful to defy. Slowly, reluctantly, he closed his eyes, plunging himself into darkness.

A cool liquid touched his lips, followed by the surprisingly gentle pressure of the Duchess’s hand guiding the flow. It wasn't a sweet cordial, but a viscous, bitter concoction that burned as it slid down his throat. It tasted of aged wine, herbs he didn't recognize, and something else… something metallic and ancient. He instinctively tried to swallow, but the Duchess’s hand held his chin firm, ensuring he didn’t reject a single drop. The potion felt like fire spreading through his veins, a searing heat that started in his stomach and radiated outwards, engulfing his limbs. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and his vision swam even behind his closed eyelids. He could feel a strange tingling sensation all over his body, a stretching and shifting of bones and muscles. It was a deeply unsettling sensation, a violation of his very being. A gasp escaped his lips and his body began to convulse and seize.

The convulsions intensified, wracking Julian’s small frame with violent tremors. He could feel his bones lengthening, his muscles expanding, his body undergoing a rapid and agonizing transformation. It was as if he were being stretched on a rack, every fiber of his being protesting against the **** growth. A strangled cry escaped his lips, muffled by the Duchess’s hand still firmly holding his chin. He tasted blood, the result of biting his tongue during the spasms. The air grew thick and heavy, making it difficult to breathe. His vision, even with his eyes closed, was filled with swirling colors and distorted shapes. The scent of the Duchess’s perfume, once intoxicating, now felt cloying and suffocating.

The violent spasms gradually subsided, replaced by a dull, aching throb that permeated every inch of his body. Julian lay gasping for breath, his chest heaving with the effort. He felt…different. Larger. Heavier. The clothes that had fit him moments ago now felt constricting, tight against his expanding frame. A strange stiffness gripped his limbs, a testament to the rapid growth he’d just endured. Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes. The room seemed smaller, the furniture lower to the ground. His hands, once small and delicate, were now noticeably larger, the knuckles prominent, the skin taut. He flexed his fingers, marveling at the change. He tried to sit up, and a surge of unfamiliar strength coursed through his muscles. He easily pushed himself into a sitting position, his legs now long enough to comfortably reach the floor. His clothing had all but ripped and tore in several places from his growth.

He looked up, his gaze meeting the Duchess’s veiled eyes. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t offered a word of comfort or explanation. She simply observed him, her expression unreadable. He estimated he was now around eighteen years old, a far cry from the 10-year-old boy she had taken into her care. A wave of disorientation washed over him, coupled with a growing sense of unease. He was no longer a child, but not quite a full grown man either. He was caught in between, a puppet whose strings were being pulled by the woman before him. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the unfamiliar texture of thicker, coarser strands. His voice, when he finally spoke, was deeper, more resonant, and still shaky from the ordeal.

"I take it this was your plan all along then?"

The Duchess tilted her head, a subtle movement that sent a ripple through the veil obscuring her face. A faint smile played on her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Patience, young Julian.”

She said, her voice still a silken whisper.

“Everything has been orchestrated for a purpose. You were… underdeveloped. A fragile vessel for the power you possess. This was necessary. A refinement.”

She gestured around the room with a delicate hand.

“A proper husband for a Duchess must be… presentable. Capable.”

He stood, towering over her now in height. His green eyes were intense and calculative.

"What's to stop me from leaving after this stunt you just pulled?"

The Duchess didn’t flinch, didn’t even seem startled by his sudden increase in height. She merely raised her chin, meeting his intense gaze with a composure that bordered on arrogance.

“Leaving?”

She echoed, her voice laced with amusement.

“You overestimate your strength, Julian. And underestimate mine.”

She paused, her veiled eyes sweeping over his newly matured form.

“The potion wasn’t merely a growth accelerant. It also contains a binding agent. A loyalty enchantment. You may feel the urge to leave, the desire for freedom… but you will find yourself compelled to remain. To serve.”

A delicate finger traced the edge of her veil.

“Consider it…insurance.”

"So I'm no better than a ****?"

Julian growled, his knuckles cracking as his fists balled up tightly.

A flicker of something akin to annoyance crossed the Duchess’s features, though it was quickly masked behind her customary composure.

“Such… crude language.”

She said, her voice losing some of its silken quality.

“**** is such an unpleasant term. Think of it as a… mutually beneficial arrangement. I provide you with power, with purpose, with a life of luxury. In return, you offer me your loyalty, your strength, your… abilities.”

She took a step closer, her veiled face now mere inches from his.

“Besides.”

She whispered.

"You were never truly free, were you? Not with 'him' inside you.”

She tilted her head, her honey gaze piercing.

“Do you truly believe you could simply walk away from your new husbandly responsibilities?”

A wave of unease washed over Julian as the Duchess’s form began to shimmer and distort. The elegant silk dress seemed to melt and reform, the intricate embroidery unraveling and reshaping itself. Her slender frame thickened, curves blossoming where none had existed before. The veil dissolved, revealing a face…but not the face of Duchess Zefeni. It was Dohva.

His legs, still adjusting to his accelerated growth, betrayed him, buckling beneath his weight. He crashed back onto the plush bed, the impact stealing his breath. Before he could regain his footing, the Dohva-shaped creature was upon him, moving with a predatory grace that sent a shiver down his spine. She didn’t bother with pretense, with modesty. Her hands, now adorned with wickedly sharp nails, moved with swift efficiency, tearing through the remnants of his clothing. Fabric ripped and shredded, exposing his newly matured body to the cool air and her hungry gaze. There was a disturbing pleasure in her movements, a possessive hunger that went far beyond anything he had witnessed before. She discarded the ruined garments as if they were nothing, her eyes fixed on him with a predatory intensity.

A gasp escaped Julian’s lips, a strangled sound lost in the suffocating intimacy of the moment. The Dohva-creature leaned over him, her body a warm weight pressing against his. Her breath, hot and heavy with a musky scent he couldn’t quite place, washed over the sensitive skin of his manhood. It was a deliberate torment, a calculated act of domination. Her eyes, now glowing with an unnatural luminescence, trailed down his length, lingering with blatant desire. A slow, predatory smile curved her lips, revealing a glimpse of pointed canines. She reached out, her fingertips tracing the outline of his engorgement, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

“Such…potential..."

She purred, her voice a husky whisper that resonated deep within his core.

“Wasted on a fragile boy. But now…”

She pressed closer, her lips hovering just above his bulbous tip.

Before Julian could react, could even formulate a coherent thought, she descended. Her lips, cool and surprisingly firm, encircled him, her mouth opening in a slow, deliberate caress. It wasn’t a gentle exploration, but a claiming. A possessive, all-consuming intake that stole his breath and flooded his senses. A wave of conflicting emotions crashed over him – revulsion, fear, and a disturbing, undeniable arousal. He tried to pull away, to push her off, but his limbs felt heavy, sluggish, unresponsive. The binding enchantment, he realized, wasn’t just about loyalty. It was about control. Complete and utter control. Her tongue flicked against his glans, sending shivers of involuntary pleasure through his body. She continued her ministrations, her movements growing more frantic, more demanding, her touch igniting a fire within him that he desperately tried to suppress.

"D-Dohva!"

He groaned breathily from the pleasure.

The name, a **** plea laced with confusion and a burgeoning surrender, seemed to only fuel her fervor. The creature, wearing Dohva’s face, didn’t respond with words, only with a tightening of her grip and an increase in the intensity of her ministrations. Her tongue danced along his length, teasing and tormenting, while her hands began to explore, kneading and stroking with a practiced skill that belied her earlier guise as an elderly ailing Duchess.

A strangled cry tore from Julian’s throat as the first wave of pleasure crashed over him. His body arched, muscles contracting violently as he succumbed to the overwhelming sensation. He gripped the sheets beneath him, knuckles white, as a torrent of release erupted from within, flooding his core with a searing, all-consuming heat. It was a rapid, almost frantic culmination, a **** expulsion fueled by both torment and desire. His vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode the wave of ecstasy, utterly helpless against the creature’s relentless ****. The scent of his own arousal filled the air, mingling with the creature’s musky perfume. He felt utterly spent, his body trembling in the aftermath, his mind reeling from the **** on his senses.

A guttural sound, not unlike a satisfied growl, escaped the creature’s lips as she leaned down, her mouth opening to receive the entirety of his release. She swallowed every drop, her throat working rhythmically, her eyes never leaving his. The moment the last trace of his seed disappeared, a visible shift rippled through her form. The transformation wasn’t instantaneous, but a gradual unwinding of time itself. The aged skin began to tighten, the wrinkles smoothing away like lines erased from parchment. Silver strands in her hair regained their vibrant blue hue, cascading down her back in a shimmering wave. Her breasts swelled, becoming impossibly full and buoyant, straining against the remnants of the shredded dress. Her hips widened, reclaiming the lush curves of a woman in her prime.

A cruel smile played on her lips as she spoke, her voice now a melodic purr that sent shivers down Julian’s spine.

“There’s a good boy…”

She reached down, her hand cupping his testicles with a possessive grip. A surge of cold energy flowed from her palm, seeping into his flesh. It wasn’t a painful sensation, but a jarring one, a violation that left him breathless. He felt a tingling heat bloom within him, spreading rapidly through his veins. Before he could even process what was happening, his manhood responded, hardening instantly, rising to attention with an unnatural rigidity. It was a magical compulsion, a **** arousal that bypassed his will entirely. He groaned, a sound of protest and **** surrender, as his body betrayed him once more.

A swallow worked in Julian’s throat, his gaze fixed on the breathtaking creature before him. The realization settled in, heavy and intoxicating: he was married to a demon, a being of unimaginable power and allure. A twisted smile touched his lips.

'Dreams really do come true… albeit in a reincarnated life.'

A strange sense of acceptance washed over him, a perverse satisfaction at the unfolding events. He had always craved power, craved control, and now, he was bound to a woman who embodied both.

"...at least tell me... what are you..."

Julian groaned breathily as her fingers traced down his fat erection. Her fingers continued their slow, deliberate descent, tracing the length of his engorged member with a tantalizing slowness. She paused, her thumb circling the head, before finally lifting her honeyed gaze to meet his. Her eyes, now a mesmerizing shade of violet, held a depth of ancient knowledge and predatory amusement.

“What am I?”

She echoed, her voice a silken whisper that seemed to coil around him. She leaned closer, her breath ghosting over his lips.

“A question you’ve been asking yourself since the moment our eyes met, haven’t you, little wolf?”

A predatory smile stretched across her face.

“Let’s just say… I am a collector. A connoisseur of power. And you, Julian, are a particularly exquisite specimen.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping over his body with a possessive hunger.

“I am Zefeni Mond.”

She let the name hang in the air, savoring the shock that flickered across his face.

“Duchess Zefeni Mond, of the Mondbaie Dukedom. And I am… something far older than any mere mortal can comprehend. A lust demon -"

"A succubus."

Julian interjected with a twinkle in his green eyes.

A slow, deliberate blink. A flicker of amusement danced within her violet eyes.

"Succubus... how quaint. A rather limiting label, don't you think?"

She chuckled, a low, melodic sound that vibrated through the room.

"Let's just say I am… a being who thrives on the energies of others. On desire. On submission."

Her fingers tightened around his erection, her touch sending a jolt of pleasure through his veins.

"And you, little wolf, are proving to be a remarkably willing offering."

She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear.

"But don't mistake my amusement for weakness, Julian. This isn't a game. This is about control. About containment. And about ensuring that the power within you… doesn't consume us all."

A surprised gasp escaped her lips as Julian’s hands suddenly closed around her breasts, his grip surprisingly firm. The action was jarring, a blatant interruption of her carefully constructed lecture. Her violet eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features, quickly replaced by a predatory curiosity. Her body tensed, her muscles flexing beneath his touch. The sheer size of her breasts, now fully restored to their voluptuous glory, dwarfed his hands. They were warm, soft, and incredibly sensitive. A flush crept up her neck, betraying a hint of arousal. She didn't push his hands away, didn't reprimand him. Instead, she simply observed, her gaze piercing and assessing.

A sharp intake of breath, a sound that was half gasp, half moan, ripped from her throat as Julian’s mouth closed around her nipple. His grip tightened, his hands kneading her flesh with a possessive fervor. She arched her back, her head falling back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering closed. A tremor ran through her body, a response to the intense sensation. She hadn’t anticipated such brazenness, such raw desire. It was… exhilarating. The scent of her skin, mingled with the sweetness of her milk, filled his mouth. He suckled with a **** hunger, his tongue tracing circles around her sensitive flesh. A low growl rumbled in her chest, a primal sound of surrender and arousal. She hadn’t felt this… untamed in centuries.

Julian paused, trying to reign in the horniness of his 25 year old past self.

"Why me?"

He demanded, pinning her on her back.

She let out a breathless chuckle, a sound laced with amusement and a hint of challenge. Julian’s sudden shift in dominance didn't faze her; rather, it seemed to ignite a spark of something dangerous within her violet eyes. As he pinned her, her back pressed flat against the luxurious bedding, she didn't struggle. Instead, she tilted her head back, her long, blue hair fanning out around her.

“Why you?”

She echoed, her voice a husky whisper that barely carried over the pounding of his heart. She met his gaze, her eyes swirling with ancient secrets and veiled intentions.

“Because you are a vessel, little wolf. A key. A paradox wrapped in demonic heritage and a stolen life.”

She paused, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“You contain something… volatile. Something that threatens to unravel the very fabric of this world... your soul is an outsider inhabiting that body.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face as she observed the shift in Julian’s expression. The green in his eyes deepened, losing its youthful brightness and gaining a predatory edge. He wasn’t a naive boy anymore, not with that knowledge weighing on his soul. She had struck a nerve, exposed a truth he had been desperately trying to ignore.

A gasp escaped her lips, cut short as Julian’s hand clamped around her throat, cutting off her air supply. Her violet eyes widened in surprise, then quickly narrowed with a dangerous glint. She didn’t struggle, didn’t claw at his hand. She simply stared, assessing his audacity with a chilling calmness. The pressure on her throat was firm, but not crushing. He wasn’t trying to kill her, merely… assert control.

As Julian **** her thighs apart, a tremor ran through her body, but it wasn’t one of fear. It was… anticipation. Her wet folds welcomed his engorgement, a slick, warm embrace that sent a jolt of sensation through his own body. A low growl rumbled in her chest, a sound that was both warning and invitation.

A wave of intoxicating energy surged through Julian, originating from the point of contact between their bodies. Zefeni’s succubus power, ancient and potent, flowed into him like liquid fire, igniting a primal hunger within his soul. His green eyes shimmered, the colour deepening and swirling with a vibrant pink hue, a clear sign of the demonic energy coursing through his veins. It was a heady rush, a dangerous intoxication that threatened to overwhelm his control.

A wave of disorientation washed over Julian as Zefeni’s form began to shift and ripple, the elegant curves of the Duchess dissolving and reforming into the sturdy, practical build of his Aunt Aerith. The transformation was unsettling, a grotesque mockery of the woman he remembered, her familiar face twisted into a perverse imitation. The voice, too, was altered, adopting the warm, comforting tone of his aunt, but laced with a sinister sweetness that sent a chill down his spine.

"N-No don't hurt me!"

A strangled sob escaped the lips of the Aerith-shaped form, a sound that was quickly swallowed by a rising tide of pleasure. The illusion of his aunt’s body was a cruel torment, a twisted mockery that fueled the darkness within him. His movements grew more frantic, more ****, each thrust a violation of both body and memory. He was lost in a vortex of lust and self-loathing, his mind fractured and his will shattered. The succubus power amplified his desires, stripping away his inhibitions and leaving him a **** to his basest instincts. Zefeni, within the guise of Aerith, offered no resistance, only a perverse encouragement, her voice cooing and taunting with each brutal impact. It was a horrific spectacle, a descent into depravity that threatened to consume them both.

"You're... not... her!"

Julian growled defiantly, railing into her wet cunt with the **** of a man untamed.

A sharp gasp escaped the lips of the Aerith-shaped form, her body arching beneath the relentless ****.

“No, I am not.”

Zefeni purred, her voice a cruel imitation of his aunt’s warmth.

“But you want me to be, don’t you? You want to defile her memory, to twist your affection into something dark and forbidden.”

Her words were a venomous caress, designed to break his spirit and amplify his guilt. She tightened her grip around his waist, guiding his thrusts, reveling in his torment. The illusion of Aerith’s body was a canvas for his depravity, a twisted reflection of his own hidden desires. Each thrust was a denial, a **** attempt to assert control over a situation spiraling into chaos. Yet, with every violent plunge, he only sank deeper into the succubus’s grasp.

A shudder racked Zefeni’s body, her Aerith-shaped form trembling violently as Julian’s seed suddenly erupted deep within her womb. A strangled cry escaped her lips, a sound that was both agony and ecstasy. The succubus power flared, swirling around them like a tempest, amplifying the sensation and binding their fates together. A warm, viscous tide pulsed within her, mingling with the demonic energy and weaving a spell of dominance and possession. As the aftershocks subsided, Zefeni’s body began to shift once more, the illusion of Aerith dissolving to reveal her true form – the regal, terrifying beauty of the Duchess. She lay there, spent and sated, her violet eyes returning to their honey golden hue, burning with triumph. A thin trickle of fluid ran down her thigh, proof of the violation that had just occurred.

Julian pursed his lips. Sexually he was satisfied but mentally his mind was reeling. He'd married the duchess thinking she was elderly... but if that wasn't the case anymore... wouldn't that mean he was trapped in a life long marriage now?

Zefeni’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile as she observed Julian’s internal turmoil. The satisfaction of the encounter was evident in her eyes, but it was overshadowed by a sense of cold calculation. She reached out a delicate hand, tracing the line of his jaw with a single, perfectly manicured fingernail.

"Do not touch me."

Julian spoke softly, turning his face away.

"Mmm so cold... I love it..."

His wife purred gently. Her youthful natural body appeared humanoid save for the whip like tail that jutted from her tailbone and that exotic light blue hair.

Zefeni’s hand froze mid-air, hovering just inches from Julian’s face. A flicker of amusement danced in her golden eyes as she registered his rejection, but she didn’t withdraw her touch. Instead, she let her fingers linger, brushing lightly against his skin.

“Cold suits you, my Duke.”

Zefeni murmured, her voice a silken caress. She allowed her hand to drift down his face, tracing the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck, her touch feather-light but possessive.

“It masks the heat within, the wildness that I find so… captivating.”

Her gaze flickered to the whip-like tail that swished languidly behind her, a subtle display of her true nature.

“You are correct to question your predicament, husband. The potion was… multifaceted. It restored my youth, yes. But it also solidified our bond, a binding far stronger than any simple vow.”

She paused, her eyes locking with his.

“You are no longer simply married to a Duchess, Julian. You are bound to a demon, you have become a Duke. And a demon always claims what is hers.”

A tense silence descended upon the chamber, broken only by the soft rustle of silk as Zefeni shifted her position. She leaned closer, her breath warm against Julian’s ear.

"I have to get used to this body... feels lighter and more strengthened than the one I had in my past life..."

Julian mumbled, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Zefeni’s lips tilted in a knowing smile as she watched Julian grapple with his new physicality. She gracefully settled beside him on the bed, her movements fluid and feline.

“Indeed.”

She purred, her voice a low, melodic hum.

“The transformation was… comprehensive. The potion not only restored your youth but also unlocked the dormant potential within your demonic bloodline.”

She trailed a finger along the strong line of his jaw, her touch lingering.

“You are stronger, faster, more resilient than you were before. A vessel worthy of the power that is to come.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping over his form with a possessive glint.

“But strength is nothing without control, my Duke. And control is precisely what I intend to teach you.”

Julian closed his hand into a fist, flexing the fingers distractedly.

Zefeni’s eyes followed the movement of Julian’s hand, a flicker of interest crossing her features. She reached out, her fingers gently interlacing with his, her touch cool and smooth against his skin.

“Feel it.”

She murmured, her voice a silken whisper.

“The power that thrums beneath your skin, eager to be unleashed.”

She squeezed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong.

“Your demonic heritage, combined with the succubus blood, has created something… extraordinary. A potential that surpasses even my expectations.”

Julian glanced at her, his expression devoid of emotions.

"I will do everything you want me not to do."

A slow, predatory smile spread across Zefeni’s lips as she registered Julian’s defiance. Her golden eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and anticipation. She tightened her grip on his hand, her fingers digging slightly into his skin.

"I'd expect nothing less of my proud Duke..."