Accidental Succubus

Foreword:

All characters within this story are above the age of 18. If you enjoy my stories and wish to drop in or request a story of your own, join my discord: https://discord.gg/SXZQjsuwpA. Other stuff I create could be found on my links page here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/12DAE-46noOO5YJ1Dhs7s9c3YUknw7FszaO7QREcs0is/edit?tab=t.0

The Caldwell house was quiet. It wasn’t the peaceful kind of quiet though, it was the kind that sat heavy in the air, like a storm waiting to break.

Nathan slouched on the living room couch, half-listening to the sound of his mother clinking dishes in the kitchen. The familiar, rhythmic noise of ceramic meeting steel filled the space as Cassandra tidied up, her movements precise and methodical, just like everything else about her. She was always like this, controlled, rigid, carrying herself like a woman who tolerated nothing short of absolute order. Even in her downtime, there was an underlying tension in her presence, like a queen surveying her domain, waiting for some idiot to step out of line.

Sienna was the usual idiot.

Nathan's sister waltzed through the front door, humming to herself, her phone in one hand, a small cloth-wrapped bundle in the other. She tossed her bag onto the counter without a care, ignoring their mother’s glare as she kicked off her shoes.

"You’re home late," Cassandra remarked, drying her hands on a kitchen towel.

"Had to close up. They make the newbies do all the grunt work." Sienna’s voice was breezy, too casual, she was trying to play it cool.

Cassandra didn’t buy it. "You're not skipping school tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah." Sienna rolled her eyes, but Nathan didn’t miss the way her grip tightened on whatever she was holding.

His interest piqued, he sat up slightly, eyes narrowing. Sienna wasn't the type to bring home trinkets—especially not ones wrapped up all mysteriously like that. She had all the subtlety of a neon sign when she was up to something, and right now, she might as well have been flashing red.

Cassandra turned back to the sink, apparently deciding her daughter wasn’t worth the argument, and Sienna took that as her cue. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure their mother wasn’t paying attention, then hurried toward the kitchen table, setting the bundle down carefully.

Nathan, curious now, slipped off the couch and edged toward the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Sienna untied the cloth, revealing a crude-looking doll made of stitched-together leather. Symbols were burned into its surface, and small, dark gemstones were embedded where the eyes should be.

Nathan frowned. The hell was she messing with now?

Sienna pulled out her phone, scrolling through something before nodding to herself. Then, in a hushed voice, she started whispering words that didn’t sound like anything she should know.

The air in the kitchen changed.

Nathan felt it immediately—like the room had been pulled into a vacuum, sound warping at the edges. Even Cassandra paused mid-motion, her grip tightening on the edge of the sink. The light above flickered once, and a slow, creeping heat seeped into the air.

Sienna either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She pressed her palm to the doll’s chest and whispered the final words.

The response was immediate.

A deep, guttural crack split through the room as the tiles beneath the table groaned, warping like something was forcing its way through. A jagged line of darkness appeared, stretching open into a swirling abyss, violet light spilling from its depths.

Cassandra spun around, eyes wide. "Sienna, what the hell—"

Before she could finish, a plume of thick, purple smoke erupted from the rift, twisting and curling through the air like it was alive.

Nathan barely had time to react before the tendrils of smoke surged toward his mother, wrapping around her body in an instant. She gasped, staggering back as the mist coiled tighter, seeping into her very skin. Her perfectly pressed blouse and skirt blackened, the fabric twisting, shifting—morphing into something more dark and obscene. The modest collar peeled away, replaced by leather straps crossing over bare skin, and the crisp pencil skirt melted into form-fitting black leather that clung to her curves like a second skin.

Cassandra choked out a breath, back arching as the transformation finished, her body radiating a slow, unnatural heat. Her piercing blue eyes flickered—then darkened into a deep, glowing purple.

Then she smirked.

Not Cassandra’s usual, sharp-edged smirk of disapproval. No, this was something different—lazy, indulgent, like a cat waking up from a pleasant nap.

She stretched her arms above her head, rolling her shoulders. "Ahhh, now that’s better." Her voice was still Cassandra’s, but the tone was all wrong—smoother, sultrier, laced with amusement.

Sienna, still frozen in place, finally found her voice. "Uh—hello?" she stammered. "I—I summoned you! You're supposed to help me!"

The possessed Cassandra turned to face her, lifting a perfectly manicured hand. "Oh, sweetie." She flicked her fingers.

Sienna’s expression went blank. Her eyes turned completely white.

For a second, she just stood there, blinking slowly—then she gave a confused shake of her head, glancing around like she’d just lost track of something. She looked at the table, at the empty space where the doll had been, and her brow furrowed.

"What was I saying?" she muttered.

“Nothing important ‘sweetie’” cooed his mother.

Nathan didn’t know what was more disturbing—the fact that Sienna had just completely forgotten what happened or the casual ease with which this thing had done it.

The possessed mother then turned, those eerie purple eyes of hers locking onto Nathan’s. The smirk widened.

"You, on the other hand…" She lifted a finger and curled it, beckoning him forward. "Come here, darling."