Nov 07 2011

A Halloween Tale by JHB

I know that I said that Storm Clouds would return this week, but it will be next week…

The reason for that is my heart has written another story of the Realm of the Succubi with our dear yellow tail Miriam that has appeared before in the Realm… You can find her first appearance on the Tale here, back on May 15, 2011

For those that don’t know, yellow tails in the Realm are very rare, have interesting powers that occasionally do odd and wonderful things… But most of all they are always cheerful and happy beings…

To my heart, I thank him for telling us more of Miriam, and for adding to the world of the Realm…

I am, as always, grateful for his love and guidance…




A Halloween Tale


It is still Halloween in a few places as I post this, and I wrote it on Halloween, and I haven’t contributed any writing to this place in ages, so I will post it.  This is the whole thing, inspired by a picture in Tera’s Succubi Realm, and written using the rules of her Collective Succubi.  It is the sequel to a story found here.



Miriam was doing a wonderful job in her role as a Realm Librarian.  In the five months since she had moved out of her internship and into the full-fledged staff, she had become more and more comfortable with herself and her succubish nature.  She now dated on a regular basis, with incubi and succubi of all ages; she particularly . . . well, “enjoyed” might not be quite the right word . . . a green-tail named Cheri, who, once upon a time, was the nursemaid to a young French lass—Reinette Poisson would grow up to be Madame du Pompadour, one of the greatest human courtesans ever.  Miriam discovered just where—and how—Louis XV’s chief mistress learned her skills.

In the library, the yellow-tail’s energy and optimism had added quite the spark to a universally-renowned staff.  They had embarked on a new program to host and assist visiting scholars, and Miriam had spearheaded the entire thing, including special accommodations for scholars who never knew they were visiting the Realm.  Well, there was a minor dust-up between two earthly anthropologists who met up at a Paris conference, one convinced that he had stepped into an annex of the US Library of Congress, the other sure she had found a forgotten wing at St. Andrews.

On the bright side, a quick trip by Miriam not only kept the two of them from launching an investigation into how there could be two copies of a one-of-a-kind ancient codex . . . but they’re getting married at Christmas.

Her colleagues enjoyed the energy for the most part, but she was a yellow-tail, after all, and there were those grateful for the fact that her kind were so rare.  True, the aurora borealis in the study alcoves when Miriam was preparing for summer solstice celebrations was fascinating, but the bagpipe and drum corps (three of them) marching simultaneously through the Great Hall sent three librarians and the chief computer pitchforker . . . er, IT consultant . . . home with migraines.

So there was a small bit of cheer in the staff on the day when Miriam hefted her knapsack on her back and departed into the geography special collections for a six-week cataloguing expedition.  And yet, after just a day and a half, the silence moved from blissful to somewhat oppressive.  The young, bouncy, strawberry blonde was greeted by a huge welcome-home party, and her colleagues all chipped in to hire a rather studly amber-tailed masseur.

By the time the weekend was over, he had rubbed Miriam quite adequately . . . and she had reciprocated . . . generously.

So, as summer turned to autumn along the shores of the Lake of Fire, and the trees on the Angelkitty Mountains presented a blaze of color of their own, Miriam was mostly content with her life.  She had a job she loved in a place she loved, she felt as if she contributed to life in the Realm, and she had a nice circle of friends.

And yet, she was discontented: she was still viewed by some with a bit of trepidation, because of those legends about yellow-tails being dangerous.

Well, perhaps also because it had only been twenty-two weeks since she had inadvertently sent everyone into a  wild orgy with their tail selves that could have potentially destroyed the Realm.  That might have had something to do with it.

But she had also saved everybody.  That had to count for something.

Still, even among those whom she considered friends, she was usually one of the guys.  While she had dated, it wasn’t frequent.  While there had been first dates, there hadn’t been second dates . . .

. . . except with Cheri . . .

. . . or third dates . . .

. . . except with Cheri . . .

Cheri . . . ummmm, appreciated and rewarded eager and attentive students, it seemed.  And Miriam was always an eager and attentive student.

Still, for the most part, people saw her as cute-but-weird, or maybe as a buddy, but not sexy.  And there were times—like at work in the library or on one of those three dates with Cheri—when she didn’t care.  But, in a society full of sexy and sensual people, to be everybody’s pal could be rather tough on a young succubi’s self-esteem.

Marilyn’s silver tail, flicking back and forth in the mirror, got Miriam unconsciously moving her own as she consulted her tail-self via reflection.  “You know, sister,” the glamorous, predatory self said to the librarian, “Halloween is coming up, and it is a holiday when people get to appear as others.  Maybe you could dress up as somebody, or even use some make-up to change your tail color.  What do you think it would be like to be a red-tail for an evening?  Maybe you could even meet some new people.”

Miriam blushed at the suggestion at first, but Marilyn could see the wheels turning in her counterpart’s mind.  “I think I will try it,” the strawberry blonde decided.  The fall holiday was just two days away.  Miriam had planned to go to the Queen’s ball as Anne of Green Gables, a literary character whom she enjoyed—besides, she heard that the Queen had a special fondness for Canadians.  But this could be fun, too, and this could stretch her as a succubi, something she always challenged herself to keep doing.

As Miriam went off to plan, Marilyn smiled to herself.  Her counterpart was so sweet, but so naïve; she didn’t think about how sensitive a succubi’s tail could be.  Marilyn knew there could be effects from changing its color, even superficially.  Since the glamorous brownette was making it her special project to get her librarian tail-self to loosen up a bit, she thought this could be a delightful exercise.

But the first thing Marilyn hadn’t counted on was that she was not always that much more self-aware than Miriam.  She had forgotten that yellow-tails often brought unintended consequences.

The second thing the silver-tail hadn’t counted on: Miriam, ever the careful planner (a huge contradiction for a yellow-tail), decided she should try a test-run first.  And she decided that she should do this outside of the Realm, where nobody knew her.

And so it was that Miriam prepared for her first solo trip outside the Realm.  She was too embarrassed to admit to any other succubi, much less Her Royal Highness the Head Librarian, who usually arranged for such journeys.  Fortunately, she knew that the Library had portals into many other libraries in various parts of the mortal world.  So, late on the Saturday night before Halloween, Miriam let herself into the Library carrying a make-up kit with a large supply of rouge, crept around the darkened corridors, and set things out on a study carrel.

She began to rub rouge onto her tail, almost immediately moaning and quivering, but turning the tail red, bit by bit.  Around the time when she reached her scalloped tip, her knees were buckling and her panties were soaked. As she recovered from her climax, she chastised herself: of course her tail, like every succubi’s, was a huge erogenous zone.  She began to collect herself, and was carefully considering which portal she might take, and which destinations might already be celebrating Halloween and so not notice her unique natural attributes so much.

But the yellow-horned red-tail was buzzing inside, full of energy, yet anxious for romance, contact, and passion.  Her clothes were morphing, as a spandex shirtlet now barely covered her breasts and seemed to accent her rock-hard nipples while leaving her now-ruddy midriff bare.  And her skirt was now considerably shorter and leather.  At least her damp panties were gone, replaced by . . . well, not replaced, as it turned out.

There was no more planning.  She needed physical contact, and she needed it immediately.  Her purple mane tickled the small of her back as she glanced around, then leapt to the nearest alternate reality.

Jerry liked working in the university library because he could stay for a few hours after closing and work on his second book in peace and quiet while still making it home in time for a late supper with Karen, his sweetheart.  He was finally making some good progress that night when he heard a noise in the next room.  He sighed, pushing his glasses back up his nose and stroking his beard, bringing his six-foot frame up almost straight as he loped through the darkness, grumbling to himself about which idiot engineering student must have fallen asleep in the stacks.

“Who is in there?” he called out, flicking on a flashlight.  “Come on, I can show you the way out and we can both get home.”

“Come and see,” a sultry voice husked.
That didn’t sound like one of the asthmatic bookworms he was expecting.  He barely had time to register that she didn’t look like any bookish . . . well, that was all even his brain got out before the purple-haired wet dream grabbed him and kissed him, pushing her tongue deep into his throat.  For a moment, he was in heaven, but then he remembered: “No . . . you can’t . . . I won’t . . .” he croaked, gasping for air as he pushed the woman back, holding her bare arms to her sides, feeling something wrap around his waist.

Her tail reeled him in as a vinyl thigh-high boot rubbed between his thighs.  “Oh, but you can, cutie.”  She broke his grip and stroked his cheek with a hand in a fingerless glove before a long red-lacquered nail flicked his ear lobe.  “You know that this is a dark fantasy of yours.”

“No, I . . . I can . . . NOT!! I cannot!!” The young author shook his head, trying to clear it, his mind filled with a lemon-scented fog as one hand unconsciously reached up to stroke a . . . .was that a horn?

She had no patience for seduction right now.  Her dark stare bore into his brown eyes as he began to cry out.  It was as if a wrecking crew was plowing through the structures of his psyche, his inhibitions and morals crashing down even as his libido rose to new heights.  The next thing crashing down was an entire shelving unit.  The visitor pulled on a thread and his sweater unraveled; the shirt was open in a flash and her nails were raking his chest.  Before the two of them landed on top of the splayed out books, his pants were open, he was growling, nothing was stopping him plunging into her.

The two were sweaty and cum-spattered, but still hard and aching when they climbed off the books.  His purple tail was running up and down her back as she purred, “More.”

“Come.”  She could hear the spelling of that word in his voice before his lips had even closed.

Karen had just put some of her special enchiladas in the oven of their galley kitchen, wiping her brow behind her titian bangs, when she heard the door slam.  “Are your hands full, baby?” she asked as she wiped her own hands on her jeans and stepped out into the living room.

The purple-haired creature was gorgeous, and her tail was already wrapped around her thigh as her lover’s . . . tail? . . . snaked into her panties and made her sigh.  That was quickly supplanted with screams as two minds crashed in on her.  By the time the three of them hit the bed in the next room, Jerry’s mouth—or the mouth of the creature who had been Jerry—was assaulting her pussy lips, and her own tongue was exploring Mistress’ (how did she know that?) cunt, while the erstwhile librarian alternated between her first conquest’s bulging head and the second’s glistening, protruding nipples.  There could be little doubt that the neighbors . . . two blocks over . . . heard the screams that night.

The first light of dawn had Marilyn blinking, when she realized that she had a splitting headache.  Something was terribly wrong.  Where was Miriam?  Suddenly, a flood of images threw her back onto the bed, her mind spinning.  Purple hair . . . so much lust . . . the old ways of emotional and mental conquest . . . Oh, that couldn’t be right.

“Miriam” the voice whispered into the supine creature’s ear as her hands unconsciously teased her two consorts sleeping bodies.  “Miriam, you need to come back to me. This isn’t you . . . isn’t us . . . isn’t our kind.”

Her hair still had purple streaks as she re-entered the Realm, but her tail was yellow again, a brighter yellow than had been seen in countless generations, just as it had been before.  She was messy and embarrassed, but had managed as she recovered herself, to release the other two wills she had claimed.  She hoped they would credit the extra person in their memories to wild sex dreams—never mind why they were sharing the reverie—and that they wouldn’t question the found money, enough to fix the broken bed and shattered wallboard.

Before she dressed for the Royal party, Miriam, who was finally herself even though she had a silly smile on her face at work all day, sat and looked into her special mirror.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Marilyn said, somewhat contrite.  “I just wanted you to loosen up, not go . . . well, I shouldn’t forget that yellow-tails are special.”

The young librarian blew a kiss to her tail-self: “No worries, sweetie.  Those two darling humans are back to themselves, and so am I, even though my headache isn’t entirely gone . . . and I think we have both learned that I need to be myself, yes?”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice.  So, back to something safe for tonight?”

The strawberry blonde was braiding her hair: “Yep! I am just Ann Shirley, a character in a Canadian children’s story . . .

“. . . But I do think I’ll start the first game of spin the bottle.”  She picked up a Diet Coke container: “And you would be amazed at how often this bottle will point right at little ol’ me.”



I have to say, and have, that I just love her so very very very much…

*huggles for my heart*




  1. avatar

    *huggles, always, from your heart*

    Miriam is barrels of fun to write, and you, Dear One, inspire my writing so so much.

  2. avatar


    She is a joy my heart and thank you…


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