The Succubae Seduction: Chapters 10-14 - Sex Stories

The Succubae Seduction: Chapters 10-14

... rescuing someone.” We’ve tried digging the car out, but the constant rain just runs the sand back into our holes. We’ve tried to find some wood or something to put under the tires so that they can get some traction, but everything is just too wet. “We have company,” Lisa says warily, and I turn to follow her gaze. She was also helping push, while AnnaBelle ran the steering wheel and pedals. A single Grindylow, old, wrinkled, tentacles crooked at odd angles beneath it, and stooped with age is watching us. By the way it’s holding its trident, I can tell that he needs it for support. At least, I think it’s a ‘he’. The large body of water sits behind the short creature, as it examines us with its large, shimmering, bulbous eyes. “I don’t think he means us any harm,” Angela murmurs beside me. “Are you truly a generator?” the green creature asks me. His voice is rough, as though speaking while out of the water takes some extra effort. I nod, not really knowing what to say. This seems to get the little thing agitated, his many tentacles flapping against the sand, and I prepare myself for some sort of attack. I notice Lisa and Angela doing the same. The sound of the locks on my car informs me that AnnaBelle isn’t missing out on the tension out here. “Then the prophecy is coming true?” I’m not sure how, but I’m able to detect joy in the small monster’s rough voice. “What prophecy?” I ask, remembering Arethusa mentioning something about a prophecy as well. In stories, prophecies are ...

... never a good thing for those they involve. Of course, this is real life, so maybe the prophecy is about bunnies and rainbows. . . . Yeah, I don’t believe it either. The Grindylow calms down and examines me again. Without warning, he begins speaking in his harsh voice. Even with the pouring rain, his words carry a sense of import that changes the mood of our group. “When the air calms down, And rain slows on Water’s door. Comes the time for all to wail. A deadly new enemy to abhor. A generator comes forth, To save all or completely fail. A foe that’s timeless, Even on our life's long scale. Colors swirl to hide our nemesis, Our destruction, he strives to make. Only the blind can resist his will, Unless his choice is a mistake. A blade to kill, and a blade to save, A talisman to forge the path between. To kill and save, or save and kill, One path to both, yet choices lean. Our hero’s life shall meet its end, Unless he strikes the deadly beast. His friends shall fall or rise, Until all his efforts have ceased.” I just stare at the green creature. I mean, what does one say, after being told something so dark and dreary. Their hero’s life shall meet its end? Friends rise and fall? What the heck? Even the incessant rain seems to grow quite at the import of those words. “The winds have lessened and yesterday the rain did to,” the ancient Grindylow states into the silence. “Generators have not been seen in either world for millennia. Witnesses saw you use your power to calm the rains, ...