I have part two of Umbral Academia out on Smashwords now! Peter inadvertently discovers a secret society of demonologists using sex magic to track down astral beings... beings like his best friends-turned-succubi!
Free Demon Mind Control Story Sample Below
One might think falling into a hot, sex fueled relationship with two hot Asian girls would be a dream come true, but when those girls are newly turned demons who must feed on lust to survive, things can prove to be much more complicated!
Still, best friends till the end, Peter, Lara, and Megan strive to make their new dynamic work. Peter endeavors to sate their hunger, and they do their best not to break his mind down into a sex-addled puppet.
But this equilibrium is threatened when Peter finds himself involved with a strange group of occult scholars, ones intimately interested in the nature of demons and the realm them arise from. What's more, they have their own dark sex magic to aid them in their cause!
Can Peter keep his friends safe from this strange cabal? Is there a chance he can cure them of their twisted fate? Will he manage to keep his free will under the unavoidable barrage of deviant ecstasy that his demonic friends enact on him multiple times a day? Grab it on Smashwords to find out!
He pushed through the oak doors and sought the directory affixed to the wall next to several large framed campus photos and a large informational screen. He searched the directory, at first finding no mention of the professor anywhere. His eyebrows raised, however, when he finally found his name noted in a small inscription below all the rest, listing his office as in the building's sub-basement.
Peter glanced around as he reached the basement. The austere corridors leading off from the stairwell were a marked contrast from the floors above; though that might have just been because it was so late in the afternoon.
But as he made his way down the corridor, following the directions from the directory, he felt an odd sensation in the back of his mind. A strange, aching certainty that he was somewhere he wasn't meant to be. With it came a deep and sudden urge to turn around, leave, and forget about the entire place altogether.
Finally, he stopped, rubbing his temples as he wrestled with the strange feeling.
This makes no sense, he thought. I was sent here. I'm supposed to be here.
With conscious effort, he pushed through the feeling of antipathy toward the path ahead of him. Moving step after conscious step. After a few seconds that seemed to stretch on much longer, the feeling left him as suddenly as it had appeared; fading like it had never been there at all.
When he turned into the last carpeted corridor, he found it ending in a large metal door. He was sure what he felt earlier must have been a figment of his imagination. Some remnant of his fatigue, or maybe the aftereffects of Megan's and Lara's ministrations? He could still feel the weariness pulling at him, a weariness that had grown so common he could almost forget was there if he didn't think about it.
He heard voices as he neared the door, more than he had expected considering how empty the preceding corridor had been. He pushed the metal bar, opening the door with an audible clunk. This resulted in a roomful of eyes turning towards him as he stepped into a sprawling room that seemed less an office than a strange marriage of library and makeshift laboratory.
Almost a dozen people filled the room, several at a table with stacks of ancient-looking books. Two gathered around a whiteboard scribbled with strange symbols and equations. And then there was a wide open space sat at the center of the room, and several were in the middle of painting symbols along the ground.
And near this open space stood two figures, a tall, lean man with a bald head and a cane, and a shorter woman with a short blond pixie style haircut. The man's face was stern and lined. Hers young and fine, but with a sharpness to it that seemed almost predatory.
It was this woman who broke the silence that fell upon his entering.
"And just who the fuck are you?" she said, leveling steel-gray eyes on him.
This startled Peter, but he took only a moment to compose himself. "Peter Oberman. I'm from the Math Department? Professor Masting sent me? I'm one of his teaching assistants."
"We told him to come," the woman said coldly. "What's his fucking TA doing here?"
Peter adjusted his glasses. "Serving a textbook case for my use, by his own wording."
The frown the woman wore deepened, and she turned to the man with whom she'd been speaking. "I told you we couldn't rely on that senile old bastard."
Peter saw the man regard the woman cooly. His voice was deep and even. "And I've told you repeatedly that you need to trust me. We needed his expertise."
"Expertise that we don't have." She jerked a hand towards Peter. "He sent a fucking errand boy."
"Excuse me," Peter said, taking a tentative step forward. "But I'm not an errand boy. I'm a graduate student whose worked directly under Professor Mastings. While I can't speak to... whatever arrangement you made with him, he said you needed the services of someone with an advanced understanding of experimental Euclidean mathematics?"
The woman returned her gaze back to him. The man shifted as well, his grip on his cane tightening. "That is exactly what we need, young man. I take it you have that education as well?"
"I studied under him, sir," Peter said. "To be specific, my dissertation is on it."
He paused then, realizing how uncanny this all was. Glancing around, he noted that none of the people looked like students or aids. They all wore thick brown coats with black gloves, and every so often he'd see the white shirt beneath the coat with strange emblems that he only partially made out.
"But maybe this has just been a very unfortunate mix-up," he said, looking back at them. "If you'd like, I could return to Professor Mastings and tell him you specifically wanted his presence?"
Peter made to turn—earnestly happy at the prospect of being away from this place—when the older man uttered a single word. "Stop."
There was a strange power in the man's voice, a power almost compelling him away from the door. "Come here, young man," he said.
Peter rubbed his temples slightly, but did as he was bade. As he approached them both, the woman looking over him with a coldness that sent shivers up his spine.
The man's gaze was more even, though no less calculating. "You have experience with non-Euclidean mathematics?"
"I do."
"Para-dimensional geometry?"
"Yes."
"Non-linear function spaces?"
"I have a working familiarity."
The man and woman exchanged another glance. "Do you have an acceptable alternative, Ms. Ellis?" the man said.
"You know I have jack-shit, Keening." She said, breaking their gaze.
"Then we have a resolution," he said, and turned back to Peter. "I apologize for the confusion, Mr. Oberman. As you likely heard, I am Dr. Keening, the operator of this workshop." He nodded towards the woman, who had left the two of them to speak with the two at the whiteboard. "And that is Dr. Ellis, an associate of mine from the physics department."
Peter's eyes lingered on the woman. She had a stark, dangerous beauty; a beauty that put him in mind of a keenly sharpened blade. When he looked back to Professor Keening, the man was studying him with stark green eyes that seemed vibrant despite his age. "May I ask you a question, Dr. Keening?"
"Speak."
"What kind of project involves a history and physics professor working together on? And what need do they have for a scholar in experimental mathematics?"
The professor's smile was cool. "A very special one, Mr. Oberman. A very special one. Tell me, of all the knowledge you have gleaned here at our University, how much have you been able to apply real-world applications?"
Peter shook his head. "My field is highly experimental, Dr. Keening." He hesitated, thinking of how often things grew awkward when he tried to explain his chosen discipline. "It is non-traditional, I know. I've accepted that my occupation will be one of research and academia."
"As have most of us here," Dr. Keening said with the slightest of smiles. "But I ask you, Mr. Oberman. What if I were to tell you there were applications for your field of study? And that Professor Ellis, I, and the rest of our colleagues are working in it at this very moment."
Peter stood silent for several moments, not sure what to say. Of all the things he expected from this task, experimental application was not one of them. "I would be deeply curious. I ask you again, Dr. Keening. What is it you're doing here?"
The tan-skinned man smiled, his hands tightening around the ball of his cane. "Young man, allow me to tell you about something we have come to call 'Astral Physics.'"
***
Peter stared down at the collection of books open on the table before him. Most of them were old. Very old. Pages crumbling and spines so worn they could barely hold their contents. Each moldering page held strange, archaic scripts Peter had never seen before. But what he recognized—in a way more uncanny than the strange books themselves—were the diagrams and equations, written in faded, splotchy ink.
"This is unbelievable," he muttered under his breath. "These can't be genuine. These equations... they shouldn't be workable without modern equipment and theorems."
Professor Keening rested his rough hand on the table. "That is what we aim to discover. My translations of these ancient texts. Dr. Ellis's instruments and analytical skills, and," he nodded at Peter, "Someone with the grasp of multi-dimensional mathematics to aid us in constructing the experiment."
Peter turned to the large symbol taking up the center of the room. The more he looked at the strange curves and irregular angles, the more it hurt his eyes. But when he closed his eyes, he could almost see the underlying order to the madness laying before him.
He realized then that it didn't look right because he was looking at it as a flat, two dimensional drawing. Were he able—and were it complete—the full construction would extend into four-dimensional space.
He shook his head slowly. "This can't work. It couldn't have worked. Even if I assume these equations as accurate—which I don't—they could never have been constructed with three dimensions, much less two. It would never have exited the realm of theory."
"That's the problem with people like you," Dr. Ellis said, returning from a corner with a small device in her hand. "You can only think of how things will fail. You're afraid to imagine what might happen if you succeed." She placed the device on the table in front of the books. Peter peered down at the softly buzzing thing. It looked like a battery affixed with a series of lenses fused to several tiny, articulated pins.
Keening rapped the wooden floor with his cane. "We believe ancient practitioners developed their own means of completing these rituals. If my translations are correct, the existence of a extra-dimensional plane beyond the third, an 'Astral Plane,' speaks to powers and capabilities that our current understanding of reality has no firm grasp of."
He gestured at the device. "This is what we've developed. With this, we can turn the theories you have spent so long studying into a reality."
The shadow of a smile crept up the stern man's lips. "And from there, humanity will enter an era of discovery unlike any that has come before."
Peter felt his hands shaking as he leaned forward on the table. Why did this all seem so familiar? Looking again at the symbol half-completed on the ground, he realized it looked some a magic binding circle from a horror movie.
Except that wasn't right. He knew for a fact those were real. He knew because of the two people he lived with, people who'd already been fundamentally changed by their experiences with other realms of existence.
I'm afraid your 'Era of Discovery' has begun without you, Dr. Keening...
Peter felt a sudden desire to be away from the place, a deeper, truer one than when he first approached this strange workshop.
"And what is the end goal for this project, Dr. Keening?" he said, hiding his rising dread. "Do you plan to... what? Open a doorway into this other dimension."
The man gave a low, gravelly laugh. "Young man, do I look like an adventurer to you? No, we aim for nothing so grand. We seek to do some base interactions within extra-dimensional space, that is all. Enough to prove its existence and to collect rudimentary data for us to analyze in a more formalized environment."
This gave Peter pause, not because it seemed any less dangerous, but because it brought a new idea to his mind. What if Megan and Lara's condition could be reversed? What if, with enough understanding, the strange conditions inflicted upon his friends could be cured?
That understanding would only come from endeavors like this...
He looked from one professor to another, one face cool and impassive, the other harsh and unforgiving. A stranger pair he had never seen, but then, it probably required someone strange to even consider an experiment like this.
Finally, he turned to Ellis. "You'll have to show me how your device works."
The dour professor sniffed. "I can, but only if you keep up."
Peter nodded, then looked to Keening. "I'll need precise instructions on the symbols and their accompanying equations. I can't promise anything, Dr. Keening, but I'll do what I'm able."
Keening's nod was slight, but Peter saw the satisfaction clear in his emerald toned eyes. "I can expect no more, young man. I can expect no more."
***
Despite Dr. Ellis's harsh disposition, she was both thorough and informative in showing the functionality of her Astral Attunement device. She even exhibited patience at times, allowing for his ignorance of concepts and procedures in relation to her field.
After two mentally strenuous hours, he held the one of the many copies of the device, its various dials and switches set as she had instructed. "So with the settings calibrated and lenses aligned like so, I can extend the radiating lines called for by the equation into higher dimensions?"
Ellis crossed her arms and nodded. "It's vastly more complicated than that, but yes, basically."
"OK," he said, giving a final examination of the small, spindly device with its many tiny metal appendages. "I think I understand now."
"Good," she said, and gave him a faint, lopsided smile. "You know, maybe you're not as useless as I first took you for."
Peter gave a small laugh. "Well, thank you. I think."
"Uh, huh," she said, her cool gray eyes studying him. "In fact, I can't help get the feeling there's something particularly noteworthy about you."
Peter paused, looking away. "I'm, uh, I'm not sure what you mean, Dr. Ellis."
"No," she said, walking slowly around him. "Neither am I. But I didn't get a spot on this project by blind luck. I got it by trusting myself and my instincts."
"And my instincts," she whispered, suddenly very close to him, her breath hot on his ear, "say there's something very interesting about you, Peter."
Peter felt a chill run through him. Then he literally jumped as he felt her hand grab onto his ass, squeezing it firmly.
"Hey!" he called out, turning to see her face, eyes predatory and lips somewhere halfway between a smile and a sneer.
"Do you job, Peter. I'll be watching."
She turned to walk away, her slender form confident and powerful, her taut hips swaying; like the rest of her body, they bore a feminine softness coupled with a coiled power hidden within them. He swallowed thickly as she left the room through a side door without another word or glance in his direction.
With this whole endeavor growing stranger by the minute, Peter kneeled down with the Astral Attunement Device and a binder filled with scanned copies of the ancient tomes he needed for his task. With both trepidation and excitement surging in him, he set himself to work.
He attuned the device as instructed, straining his mind to hold the extra-dimensional shape as he applied the required equations. With careful precision, he set the lenses meant to focus the invisible energies along ever-more complex patterns. Every so often, he would reference the scanned pages in their large binders, flipping through one page after another.
The work was arduous, but to his surprise, it proved far less difficult than he feared. He couldn't explain why, but his mind seemed easily able to grasp the hyper-shapes he was being charged with forming. His field of study undoubtedly helped, but that didn't explain the ease at which the work was coming to him.
He finished attuning one device, then another, each one adding further complexity to the extra-dimensional structure he was framing. One by one, he constructed the geometric lattice through which the professors and their crew aimed to pierce into a wholly alien dimension.
The other people in the room ignored him, though more than once he felt the eyes of Professor Keening on him. Peter did his best to ignore the attention and focus on his work. Turning to a specific scanned page in the replicated tome, he found something interesting. Around the equations he needed, interspersed with that strange, unknown script, were illustrations. Depictions of humanoid forms with horns and tails. Wings and halos. All presented with auras of power that Peter felt all too familiar with.
He ran his hand over the colored copy of the manuscript, tracing the demonic feminine image with his finger. What have I gotten myself into?
Glancing around at the strange people, the heaps of ancient books, the eerie atmosphere that suffused the place, he sighed. Whatever it is, I was in it before I came here.
Several hours of mentally taxing work later, and Peter stepped back from the final attunement device, all nine of them gently humming in unison. "All right," he said. "It's finished."
"I can see," said Keening, his cane clacking on the wood as he approached. "I am impressed. You went exceptionally fast for someone newly introduced to our methods and technology."
Peter nodded. "Thank you, professor. I suppose I have a knack for it."
"I would say you do," he said, another shadow smile on his weathered face. "An almost uncanny one, I might add. It is a shame I won't be able to make further use of your talents."
Part of Peter felt likewise. Another part, however, was eager to leave. This was all too strange. All too close. Maybe this project would pave the way to a greater understanding of the conditions gripping his two friends, and perhaps even lead to a cure. But he didn't like the feel of all this, and had no intention of ever mentioning Megan and Lara to these people.
"I'm sure you could speak to Professor Mastings if you need assistance again." He smiled amiably. "Perhaps he would even come himself this time."
Keening shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I believe the good professor is unlikely to remember we even spoke." He then rested his cool gaze on Peter. "And I'm afraid, neither will you."
Peter blinked. "Excuse me?"
With his free hand, Keening made a complex set of movements in the air with his fingers. He traced a line in the air with his hand, and to Peter's eyes, it seemed to leave a shimmering trail, as if it were painting the air.
"I must confess to some deception on our part. We have, in fact, already been able to confirm the veracity of the theories found within those volumes. The truth is, Peter, engagement with the Astral Plane is not so esoteric a thing."
As he spoke, it felt as if the floor were shifting under Peter's feet. His mind grew sluggish, and he found himself unable to look away from the erratic patterns made by Professor Keening's hands. He managed to blink, and for a split second, he saw whirling shadows rising out from the man's fingers.
"I don't... don't understand," Peter said, his speech slurring.
"It doesn't matter. Your services are appreciated, but are no longer required. Professor Ellis shall deconstruct your techniques to ensure we need not undertake the risk of bringing in outsiders again."
Keening continued to gesture with his hand, culminating in a last movement that left Peter wholly unable to speak.
"You will leave this place, Peter. Leave, and expunge all of it from your memory. All that you saw, all that you did, all of it shall be wholly erased from your mind. Do you understand?"
Peter heard the word, "Yes..." rise from his lips, low and monotone.
"Excellent. Go then. I'm done with you."
Peter's head felt like it was spinning; the professor's words seemed distant and disconnected. He felt himself moving, turning slowly and walking towards the door. He was vaguely aware of the others in the room, casting him sidelong glances but otherwise ignoring him. A dry crackling ran across the inside of his mind as he numbly pushed into the hall, his footsteps slow and clumsy.
"Uhgh..." he groaned, holding his head as he moved, and then stumbled to a half stop. It felt like something was roiling in his mind, locking his thoughts and controlling his actions. The strange part, though, was that he could sense it. Could feel it.
But there was something strange. Like the force moving through his mind was having trouble finding purchase. Like it was having to push through something already there and having a hard time of it. Whatever this internal resistance was, it also allowed him to sense what was happening.
Peter could recognize the Professor had done something to him. Exerted control over him somehow. He thought of his hands. Of those trails of energy rising out from his hands. Why did they seem so familiar?
As he wrangled with these uncomfortable thoughts and the strange forces colliding in his head, he forced himself onward through the basement corridors of the History building. This muddling brought on a fresh problem, however, as Peter quickly found himself lost in those twisting and intersecting halls.
Onward Peter walked, occasionally leaning against the wall for support, when the strange feeling in his head grew too great. It was during one of these brief pauses that a sharp sound—a sound like the cracking of a whip—pulled his attention back to the surrounding space.
He strained his ears, jumping when the cracking sound came again. This time, a low, almost imperceptible moan followed in its wake. Peter searched for the sound, and a short way down the hall, he saw a door. A door that was left slightly ajar.
Feeling like he was in a dream, Peter found himself creeping near the door. More sounds of cracking air at irregular intervals. A few more steps and he could make out the wavering voice of a man.
"Dr... Dr. Ellis, is this... Please, is this really necessary?"
Another crack, another sharp cry.
"It's sex magic, Johnson. What the fuck do you think?"
Her voice was low, breathy, like it was just before she'd left him in the workshop.
"I know, I know," Johnson replied. "I mean, could we not use... alternative methods?"
Another crack, and this time it was followed by a wet choking sound. Peter had sidled to the edge of the door. Through the space in the door, Peter saw a room with a long, wide mirror on the wall. It was in that mirror that Peter got a full view of the room.
And in that view, he saw a leather clad Professor Ellis with her hand around the throat of a naked man, a well-muscled naked man with short, fair hair with his arms shackled above his head and his feet spread wide with a hooked to his ankles bar. There was a complicated symbol of curves and angles drawn on the man's bare chest that was glowing a dull red.
Peter's eyes went wide as he took all this in, and they grew wider still when he saw that the man's hyper-engorged penis, near-purple and glistening in the light, was being steadily stroked by Ellis's other hand as she choked him.
"What did you have in mind, Johnson?" she said a low, steady voice, holding his throat in a leather-gloved fist. "Geomancy? We're looking for sex demons, you worthless moron."
Johnson tried to respond, but could only gurgle. His face reddened, his eyes rolled up. Seconds later, his throbbing, spasming cock shot thick gouts of semen across the room to spatter on the floor. As he did, the symbol on his chest flared more brightly before calming down to a brighter shade than before.
Ellis held the straining man's throat a few seconds more as she stroked the last dribbling bits of seed from his cock, a sneering smile gracing her sharp features. She released her grip, allowing him to sag forward in his restraints, gasping.
"There," she said, smoothly. "Was that so hard?"
She turned, and Peter could see her attire more fully. The dark leather bore scarlet trimming, like blood seeping out from the skin. There were bands crossing between various parts of it repeatedly, leaving her toned midriff bare and offering an ample view of her cleavage.
"No, no Amber—"
She slapped the man hard across the face. "Keep my name out of your fucking mouth. It's 'Dr. Ellis,' Johnson."
"Dr. E-Ellis," he corrected. "It's just... I didn't realize the... the intensity of this. I would have said—should have said. I'm married, Doctor..."
Ellis paused, her smile widening. "Oh. Oh, You most certainly should have told me, Johnson."
She reached up and hit the release catch on the man's shackles, loosing them from the bar above his head and causing him to fall to his back with a 'thump'. She rested a boot on his chest as she pulled off her gloves. "I would have been enjoying myself oh so much more, if I'd have only known..."
Chuckling darkly at the dread in the man's countenance, Ellis took hold of the zipper at her hip and ran it down till it opened, causing her tight leather pants to slide down her thighs and reveal her strong, toned legs. Peter sat there transfixed as he saw that down her skin ran an intricately drawn series of tattoos; finely shaded symbols in shifting and melding watercolor designs, each one similar in style to the one painted on the man's chest.
She kicked off her boots and stepped out of her pants, standing over his still throbbing erection with her own glistening slit. She leaned down, her eyes locked on to her colleague.
Peter watched all this in the mirror, transfixed, alarmed, and undoubtedly aroused—which was a notable feat, considering the rigorous lovemaking his two friends regularly put him through.
"So we're married, are we, Johnson?" she breathed, her hand caressing his chest. "Tell me, at this moment, whose pussy do you want more right now?"
With a finger, she traced the glowing lines of the symbol painted on his chest, causing him to moan loudly, his manhood throbbing with a mad ferocity.
Her voice was molten. "Whose tight little pussy does your cock want to be in right this moment? Tell me."
"Yours!" he cried, bucking wildly in his restraints. "Please, Dr. Ellis—please let me fuck you."
Ellis leaned down, her face inches from his, her dripping sex closer still to his member. "Then beg for it like a good boy," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "Beg to fuck me. Beg me to let your worthless cock inside me."
"Please!" he cried. "I'm begging you, please let me fuck you. Please let me fuck you right now."
"That's right," she crooned. "Let that lovely, desperate need build up in you. Charge my rune like the sad little fuck battery you are."
Peter could feel it; he could feel the energy of her words and the lust pouring off of the man—the way her fingers played along the glowing lines on his chest. It was the same radiating power that had been in Keening's gesture. It was making Peter hard despite himself. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the spell's ambient influence.
Ellis smiled wickedly. "One more time, Johnson. With feeling."
"Please let me fuck you," he pleaded, his voice cracking like a teen's. "Please let me inside you, Dr. Ellis! Let me fuck you with my worthless, pitiful cock!"
If you enjoyed this preview, you can find the full work here on Smashwords!
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