More than a mouthful

The three young girls scream with fear as you lung toward them. One is overweight and slow, too slow to get out of your way, even in you debilitated state. She turns and puts a crudely constructed cross in your face. It's really nothing more than two pieces of a broom stick lashed together with twine.

One of them was ingenious, you think. Qucikly, you probe their minds one at a time. The loud, corpulent one is a blank slate, fear rules her. It, and her unattractive body is the only thing that's kept her untouched this long.

The second is a truly striking blonde. Her body is firm, tight and curved in all the right places. While you'd enjoy fucking her, her mind is less astute than the fat one. She'd hardly survive as a succubus in you struggle against humanity. She'd be a millstone around your neck as you went forward in conquest.

The third, now that's the one! The raven haired girl's mind is sharp. She knew to retreat, baricade herself and construct the cross....(and weapons!)

The blonde lunges back at Jenny with a pointed stake contructed from the rest of the broomstick. It's a half hearted attempt though. Jenny easily avoids the pointed stick and, using the girls lunge for leverage, pulls her past and into her strong grasp.

"You'll have to be faster than that to defeat me. But you'll never get that chance."

With you last bit of strength, you grab the fat one, you feel wetness run down your leg and onto the floor as her bladder loosens.

"Please," she pleads, "I don't want to be demon!"

"Certianly, my sweet, you'll never have that pleasure. Besides, you're good enough to eat!"

Placing your hands on her chest, you feel her heart pounding. Following your command, Jenny has taken a similar hold on the blonde. Jenny's tail snakes toward your pussy and drives inside, completing your connection.

Then, both of you reach deep into your captives, pulling their souls, and the energy they hold into you. The women wimper and scream as they flail about. The power fills you and renews you. Years pass over the faces of the young girls as you drain them. Soon they are old, wrinkled hags. Finally, as the last of their essence flows into you, their bodies, little more than dried out husks, disintigrate into dust.

Filled with power and healed completly, you eye the raven haired girl. She quivers in the corner, defenseless and outnumbered. Her hurried, fearful breath fogs her thin glasses as she stares at you in fear.