Chapter 10: CHAPTER TEN: In which an unsanctioned relationship has its consequences.

Susan wasn't sure she should be back in Michael's bedroom at the rectory. It was too soon after what had happened, after she'd gone way too far, given into the urges she'd been feeling. Wait... how had she even gotten back to the rectory? It was like she'd been summoned and wandered back without thinking.

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, and her palms were damp with sweat. She stared at Michael, whose eyes were wide with fear; his mouth was slightly open without a single word to say. They were both, kneeling in prayer besides the bed. She had felt an impulse to reach out to him, hold him, and when he'd looked up she thought she saw the same need in his eyes. Before they could touch each other, everything had come to a screeching halt. She looked down and realized she was naked again. When had she taken her clothes off?

She leaned close to him, her voice trembling. "Michael... I care about you. And everything's all right, but... we shouldn't be doing this! I could hurt you again! Change you..." Susan stood up and backed away from the bed. Her breathing was ragged, and she felt unable to control her reactions. She grabbed at the bedsheets with shaking hands and tried to cover herself with them but started crying in the process. Michael watched her, dumbfounded, saying nothing at all. Why wasn't he talking?

"I... I can't control my urges sometimes, Michael. It's just what I'm like... I think about sex, one thought leads to another..." She backed towards the bedroom door and began to step through. She had to get out of there, stop herself, protect him.

As she turned, she heard a clicking sound behind her. She looked back to find Michael standing naked by the bed, holding a handgun. It was a .357 Magnum revolver, to be precise: a big, heavy, ugly weapon with a black barrel, engraved silver hammer, and ivory handle. Michael held the pistol to his forehead. "I have to do this, Susan," he said. "For both of us... before she takes me." Susan shrieked and ran towards Michael, but somehow, she couldn't reach him; it was as if an invisible wind was pushing her back.

Another form stepped out of the bathroom, and gently brought the gun away from Michael's head. She smiled, and held a finger to her lips, shushing Susan. The woman wore a tight white tank top that revealed her cleavage, and a short skirt that was slit up the sides, exposing her thighs--and, when she moved, a glimpse of her pussy. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail.

She was pretty enough to be called beautiful by some people, with smooth skin and a trim figure. It was like looking into a reflection: Susan's own face, but somehow different. With a start, Susan realized that her twin also sported spiraling goat horns, cloven hooves, and a long tail ending in a bulbous tip. A demon version of herself?

"Let Yael handle this, little girl," said her succubus twin. Susan felt herself thrust backwards, and the bedroom door slammed shut. Susan yanked the door handle, and screamed for help, but there was no response from anywhere. She was alone in a dark hallway.

Her mind raced frantically. What should she do? How could she help Michael? Why did this happen? How did she screw up so badly? What else had changed about Michael's body? Would they ever be left in peace? Susan ran blindly down the hallway, nearly running headlong into a large, red door. "VATICAN OFFICES," read the sign.

She stepped through. Inside, the walls were lined with bookshelves filled with thick, leather-bound volumes. On a desk sat a phone, an old-fashioned rotary dial telephone. Susan picked it up, but there was no tone. She tried to dial 911 but couldn't get past the first digit; the dial wouldn't move. Frustrated, she threw the receiver across the room, and heard it land on the floor with a loud clunk.

That's when she noticed something on the table: a bottle of holy water, a crucifix, a Bible, a rosary, a candle, a jar of holy oil, a bell, a small statue of Mary, and a small wooden cross. It was an exorcism kit, Susan realized; she snatched it all up and clutched it to her breast. She could help Michael! Through a door she found a small bathroom, sparsely furnished: one bar of soap, no towels. Only a shower stall.

I'm dirty, she thought. I must purify myself before I can help him. She turned on the showerhead and waited anxiously for it to warm up. After a moment, the water had warmed up nicely, though it still wasn't hot enough for Susan's tastes. She threw aside the bedsheet and climbed inside. The water was nice and warm, soothing her nerves.

Susan let the water run over her head, and then she began washing her body. She scrubbed vigorously, feeling the smooth skin under her fingertips as she lathered up. She felt the smoothness of her stomach, the firm muscles of her arms and legs, and the soft skin on her breasts. She washed between her toes, and then between her fingers, enjoying the sensation of cleanliness.

I need to be pure, she thought, and remove these filthy thoughts so that I can exorcise Father Michael. It's the succubus inside him that's making me horny, making me act out. There's nothing wrong with sex, as long as it's appropriate, between two consenting adults! But can either of us truly consent when demonic energy is present?

Susan opened the bottle of holy water, and poured a few drops onto her stomach, rubbing it in with her hands. Susan closed her eyes and concentrated on the warmth spreading through her body. The water made her feel safe, and she felt cleansed, purified. She spread more drops along her neck, and down her chest, and then down below, spreading it across her vulva.

Susan giggled nervously at the ticklish sensation. The holy water was dancing on her skin, like having someone massage your clitoris with their fingers, except without any hands involved. Susan reached between her legs and touched her clit, finding that the holy water had made it extra sensitive. She rubbed her crotch against the wall of the shower stall, feeling the water run down her thighs.

Surely it couldn't hurt to get some tension out, she thought. Before I'm purified. Susan squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples. She moved closer to the showerhead, switching it to se the hand-held sprayer. Susan pressed the nozzle firmly against her vulva held it there while the water pressure made her pleasure mount.

The bathroom door slammed open. "What do you think you're doing in here, young lady?" a stern voice demanded. "You shouldn't be playing with yourself in the showers!"

Susan froze. A man stood in the doorway, wearing a dark suit. He looked to be in his late sixties or early seventies. His hair was grey, but neatly combed. He wore a gold pectoral cross, a blue vestment with white sleeves, and black shoes. Susan could smell incense from where she stood. "I... I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, "I just... I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not used to... this kind of situation..."

The priest strode into the bathroom. "Oh, dear me, you've been possessed!" he exclaimed. "Come along now, let's take a look at you." Susan backed away, whimpering. The priest approached and placed his hand on Susan's shoulder.

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"No! Please, don't touch me!" Susan screamed. Her voice echoed loudly throughout the bathroom. "I haven't been possessed, it's not me. I... I may have been affected by the presence of certain energies, I--"

Susan ran through a door into another room, slamming it shut behind her. This room had a pentagram inscribed on the floor, with red and black candles at each corner, incense curling into the air. A low thrum filled the room. Susan saw a pentacle etched into the wall, and a mirror in the middle of the room. She turned around to face the priest. He seemed to have aged considerably in the last minute, wrinkles forming around his eyes, across his forehead.

"You're in my church, little girl," he said. "And I have every intention of punishing you for trespassing." He walked up to Susan and grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her into the center of the room. The priest's hands were covered in long, greasy fingernails. "This is a ritual room of the holy order of St. David. I'll be performing an exorcism to banish the demon that has taken possession of your body." Susan sobbed uncontrollably. The priest lifted Susan's chin with his dirty fingers, examining her closely. He leaned down to whisper in Susan's ear, "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them truthfully. Do you understand? You will be punished if you lie."

The priest released Susan's chin and continued, "What is your name?" Susan stared at him blankly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Your real name." The priest repeated himself slowly, enunciating clearly. Susan shook her head, still unable to speak. The priest sighed impatiently. "It's important that I know your name, little girl."

Susan nodded, and whispered, "Susan Sunghi Miller."

The priest nodded, satisfied. "Why have you been visiting this church so often lately?"

Susan's mouth was dry with fear. She mumbled the first thing that came to mind: "I wanted to learn about demons and the supernatural. There's a good library here."

The priest nodded again. "Why did you come to our church today? Did you seek help for your problems? Is that why you visited us?"

Susan nodded, trying to calm herself down. "Yes," she murmured, "Father Michael told me to stop by when I needed help." She started to cry again. Was she telling the truth? "...and I wanted to see him. He's changing, and I'm worried... and, God help me, Father. I find it erotic, the changes. The way he's changing gives me sinful thoughts."

"That's good. Now, tell me, why are you crying? Are you sad because you have been possessed by a demon?" Susan shook her head, sniffing loudly, then began to cough violently. A globule of spittle flew out of her mouth and landed on the altar. She stared at it, horrified. A desecreation! The priest wiped his hand on his pants and picked up a small wooden box from the altar. He opened the lid and took out a small green stone.

Susan watched as he dropped a single drop of holy water onto the stone, chanting something softly under his breath. As he chanted, the stone began to glow faintly green. The light grew brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding. When the light finally died down, the stone was glowing with a brilliant emerald color.

"Very nice work, Father," Michael said, stepping into the room with his arms crossed. "How goes the exorcism?" Susan's eyes widened with surprise. Michael was dressed in his normal clothes: a priest's jacket with collar and dark pants. He was neatly shaven, with his hair slicked back. He looked calm, collected.

The priest smiled at Michael. "Fine, thank you Father Michael. We'll have this succubus exorcised in no time. Yael won't be bothering us again." Michael nodded, and the two priests stood there silently, staring into the middle distance. Michael looked over the altar, inspecting the green stone. His face brightened, and he smiled warmly at Susan. She felt a sudden sense of relief at the smile, but confusion as well. "Michael! I'm not--I'm not her, I'm Susan."

Michael stepped forward and put his hand gently on Susan's shoulder. "Begone, demon." He placed the emerald stone to her forehead. Green light pierced her brain, driving her senses into darkness.

Susan woke up, panting for breath. She was curled up in a ball, her arms pressed between her legs.

She had been dreaming about being naked with Michael, about Yael looking just like her, about being exorcised.... Her body felt heavy and slick with moisture. It took a moment before Susan realized what had happened. The sheets were damp beneath her legs. A wet dream... had she been touching herself during her sleep?

Susan sat up and staggered to the bathroom. It had been a few years since her sexual urges had gotten so intense as to cause nocturnal orgasms. Although she was always curious about sex, insatiable for it at times, she'd never imagined her strong sex drive would lead to propositioning Father Michael. What would happen if she kept going like this?

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