The Hero That Was Body Swapped With A Lewd Succubus!

Leila resisted the urge to continue the session; the sensuality they shared—the sense of freedom—was something she’d lacked since before she could remember. Even after a whole night where specks of sunlight breached into the shades of the window, she found her clit irresistible to avoid. It throbbed and itched, and when she dug her fingers in, it begged for more.

Initially, she used one finger, then two, and then a third. Despite her indulgence, her body seemed to crave something bigger. Something to fill her. She didn’t know how wonderful a penis would be. She'd have to take one and enjoy it.

She shook her head. It was fun—more than fun—and an experience she'd never forget, but doing it with a man didn't fit right. Women were the one exception. She left Freira snoring in bed, hoping her sexual drive would disappear.

In the bathroom, a mirror hung opposite the room and reflected her nudity. Her nipples still perked up. Her cheeks blushed, but she was not at all embarrassed. Her hand was buried between her legs, hiding her indecent actions. The visage she found began to blend in with what she considered herself. For some reason, she found it challenging to imagine herself as a man.

“I should hate this.” She told the image in the mirror.

“How so… Princess?”

The voice made Leila jump and spin, covering her privates. A young man stood behind her. His school uniform wasn’t the cleanest she’d seen, with it speckled with sweetness, loose and shaken, and his hair disheveled with little effort in fixing it. He carried a glass of a woman’s liquid, and the crotch of his pants bulged with the shape of his penis.

“The problem is,” the young man said, “you think a succubus being themselves is wrong, yet you enjoyed it. Now, your servant would ensure not to offend or insult you, regardless of whether this behavior is right or wrong. However, this one thing is an exception—we live to pleasure—it’s our only way of survival, and it’s fun.”

“I’m not.” 

“Then look.”

She didn’t look. Could she be the person he described? No, she couldn’t be; she wasn’t a succubus who lived off desires.

The man stepped beside her. He grabbed her shoulder and, surprisingly, turned her toward the mirror. Her new strength was no match for his. 

“Ah, see, now you are. Look, your body; I know you know it; it belongs to you.”

“No.” She shot her gaze down.

“Look.” He said a command, and she…

How is he?

And she looked. Scared purple eyes stared at her, and her breasts jiggled from her heaving breaths, which she hadn’t noticed until now. Long hair brushed her butt as her legs were spread out, revealing the folds that made up her sex. Her dainty hand rested on her thigh, covered in her liquid.

"Your mother's beauty has always been yours, so take pride in it. A succubus can bypass any human rule. They can drain any man's vitality. To feed off them, it’s a blessing.”

He said I was the princess. Leila couldn’t associate her reflection with a princess. How is this a princess?

“This isn’t—“

“It is. You must know you’ve sucked enough men to know you like it. Even if you weren’t, this body proves you’re her.” He grabbed her breast and squeezed. Her mind dizzied and flashed.

Somewhere in between, the man released his hand and paced around her. 

"Is this how demons treat princesses?" Leila asked, flushing.

"Human princesses, it depends, but for demons, I'd drop my pants and let you take me. Unfortunately, I don't intend to, but if you're willing, I'll happily oblige. For you, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

He sipped at his glass, shaking it slightly.

“What did my mother say?” She found the words poisonous, but she spoke them anyway. She needed to know.

The main raised a brow. “You know, you’re more daring than I thought. Calling the Queen mother.”

He knows. 

She said, “You said I’m a princess. Do I not have the right to know?”

Leila glared at him. And finally, he stopped before her. “I’ll be the kind servant, then.” He bowed to her with practiced formality. “I, Belin, have been ordered to watch you kill the hero and aid you.”

Leila backed away. Belin? The Demon Queen’s servant? To watch me kill Zain? To… She backed into the bathroom door. She didn’t close it. Did he?

His eyes locked on hers. "You aren't a good fit for killing him. Not then, but even more so now. We’ll have to see that your body and mind are fit for when it’s time.”

****

Zain looked to the east, watching the streams of sunlight peer down upon the world, lightening the academy with undeserving happiness that every day unnerved him. Every time the sun rose and set, he discovered another heap of dead and defiled victims.

He stood atop the academy roof, the breeze cooling off the stress that had become a daily part of his life—a place where he could let his thoughts relax and reconsider what they knew and didn’t.

Below him, knights trudged into the academy, their synchronized steps clacking away the silence. Zain turned. A portal formed, and a figure stepped onto the roof, draped in layers of white and gold robes. She brushed off her outer robe, then approached, head bowed.

“Sir, hero,” the woman said.

Zain nodded, and she raised her head, stepping up to him. Her face was professional, hiding everything under a calmness. Good, well-trained.

“We’ve found three bodies; all are on the first floor. Found bare of clothes. Same symptoms, no traces of life force.”

“A demon’s work,” Zain said, folding his arms. “Have the saints arrived?”

“Yes, sir, hero,” the woman nodded. "They arrived early this morning and will finish preparations by tomorrow."

“Good.” Zain turned back to the east. “You’re dismissed.”

****

Leila leaned back, arching her back to the extreme, her hair mixing in with the training ground’s grass as a mace swung overhead, grazing the tip of her nose and, with it, an explosion of blood—her blood. Along with it, pain, which she ignored, surged, adding to the dozens of wounds she had accumulated.

Belin whirled the mace above his shoulders and crashed it down, and she kicked up, slamming a foot into his wrist, redirecting the mace into smashing into the ground beside her. Knowing not to ignore any advantage, Leila kicked her left foot, and a kick landed on Belin’s chin, tilting his head back a smidge. And with that, she propelled herself onto her feet.

A Hit?

She glared at Belin. Her throat dried and burned from the swift air passing back and forth, calming slightly as seconds ticked by, waiting for the next sparing match to begin. The damp, humid air cooled her.

"To wrap this up, Princess Leila, we'll leave it to a battle of endurance. The same costs apply; if I win, Princess Leila will suck three men. If I lose, I’ll leave, and we will never meet again.” He said. “I think a servant should offer more. I’ll even say Princess Leila died at the hero’s hands.”

She nodded.

“Take the first blow, Princess.” He dropped his mace with a pounding thud, and it rolled to a stop. “I’m unarmed; simply draw blood.”

She closed in, staying low to the ground, pulling daggers from their sheaths, lunging, and slashing. But Belin spun around, and a fist slammed into her stomach, throwing her off her feet. Before her descent, a kick hit her side, and she smashed into a rack of swords.

Leila hit the ground in a tumble, swords scattering around her. Even her increased strength since her first confrontation with Belin did little to clear her vision as she came to a dizzy rest. A figure approached slowly but formally; a smile lit across his face. Leila couldn’t stand, and he stopped before her, mace in hand.

His words were clear. “I suppose this means I won. Right, my Leila?”

“I’m…”

“Oh? You’re still awake. Can’t let that remain that way.” He raised the mace, and everything went black.