Fungal Halo

Some of you, dear readers, adrift in a sea of misconception, have by now begun to question the terminology I have been using in this account. How, you wonder, can I call Ektinnair a succubus and Melinka an incubus, given their anatomical similarities as well as my characterizing them both as women?

“Surely,” some of you will insist, “as women, they must both be succubi!” Others, disagreeing for more spurious reasons yet, will declare that they must both be incubi by virtue of their penetration-oriented sexual equipment. I have deferred the topic as long as I hoped was sensible, but I must address once and for all this wizardly nonsense of *cubi taxonomy.

Yet before I begin, once again I must reiterate that the entire discipline of taxonomy is the product of a diseased mind. You cannot use language to draw crisp lines around the grand chaos of reality without diminishing your understanding of what you describe. How much worse than useless, then, to attempt the same task on denizens of the far more infinite chaos beyond the veil!

No, incubi and succubi are not delineated by matters as mundane as anatomy or gender, which are themselves untidy categories. All lines are blurry and porous, and the *cubi clade likewise exist along multidimensional spectra, of which I choose to catalogue only a few examples. Use your imagination to extrapolate beyond, though it will no doubt fail you still. The labels I describe here should be taken to refer broadly (and not exhaustively or exclusively) to loose collections of traits, behaviors, and social roles.

We start with the succubus, since my journey here began with (and continues in the company of) my dearest friend and demonic guide Ektinnair, who may be the very finest specimen of her kind. In brief: a succubus is a lust demon characterized by carnal hungers sated by sexual gratification. They are predators¹ whose prey is the orgasm—their own may sate their hunger for a time, yes, certainly, but far more nutritionally complete a meal is the orgasm of another.

A typical succubus may be in possession of any arrangement of physical features and genders that please them. They may have a preferred form, or they may transmute their own flesh to suit the desires of themselves or of their target. They primarily hunt especially lustful sapient beings, seeking them out and ravishing them with the most gratifying sexual encounter of their lives.

With special glands around the crotch and buttocks, a succubus secretes potent aphrodisiacs that encourage their prey to abandon their own modesty and scrup

Some people erroneously believe that succubi secrete potent aphrodisiacs in order to lure their prey into abandoning their modesty and scruples. However, Ektinnair has assured me that this is a myth. The seduction of a succubus requires no such chemical assistance, relying instead on nothing more than irresistible personal charisma.

Not all succubi, however, take the common approach. Instead, some forego quality for quantity. These supercubi are rarely encountered in our world, but in some other planes, they trawl dimensional wastelands filled with swarms of low-effort creatures, harvesting² the abyssal equivalent of semi-lustful plankton. Between the extremes, from mulcubi to sesquicubi, we find variants with a preference for any number of simultaneous (or sequential) sexual partners.

Another axis of difference is revealed upon investigating the specifics of the orgasm and how the demon feeds on it. Here again we find variation. On one end of the scale, there are oncubi that require almost nothing of their target—copulation with someone fast asleep might even suffice—their energy filled exclusively by the motion of climax achieved through the use of another. On the other end of the scale, concubi feed best when climax is achieved simultaneously with another. When engaging personally with such creatures, one may find the distinction between oncubi and concubi to be more or less significant depending on one’s own temperament.

For simplicity’s sake, I will not bother with the finest-grained labels here. I choose the umbrella term “succubus” to describe a lust demon sharing enough of these traits for the label to be useful, and I will be more specific wherever warranted.

My Dearest Lady,

I fear you may have forgotten your audience again. Have you mentioned sweet Melinka yet in your account? I have been delighted to read so very much about what the three of you have been up to, but with you insisting that my correspondence with Ektinnair not be included in your magnum opus, you must find an opportunity to introduce your readers to her.

Tell Ekti I look forward as ever to laying my eyes upon her rosy words.

With love,

Calliope

To Calliope: I am grateful that your correspondence with Ektinnair continues to sate your most prurient curiosities. I have encouraged her to keep no secrets about what the two of us do with each other or with her sisters. (And I appreciate her accommodation toward my preference for her sisters over her brothers. She is terribly sweet to me.) It is of desperate importance to me that I write this chapter in particular, and I cannot let myself be distracted by anatomical details when there are so many metaphysical ones to explore.

Incubi, the other broad category of *cubi with which even wizards are familiar, have such similar an appearance with their siblings that one might even be forgiven for mistaking them for one another before coming to know them.

Like succubi, incubi are lust demons who harvest their food through sexual means. Where they differ from their siblings is their sphere of interest. A succubus loves nothing more than the collision of bodies, but an incubus drinks from the mind. Seduction is their tool—fast or slow—and lustful thoughts in one’s head are the ripened fruit, while the physical contact of loins is less the purpose than the means to an end.

You may have been visited by one yourself, dear reader, whether you recall the event or otherwise. An intracubi may visit you in dreams, offering visions of pleasurable touch—lips pressed into yours with enthusiastic desire, bodies moving in appealing ways, offering sensations that cannot be felt by a waking mind.

Malcubi, in contrast, will seduce a target in person. (Note that this term was coined by the notorious fabricator wizard Beldwin, after one apparently destroyed his marriage an encounter with one left him feeling threatened and insecure³. Their reputation of being particularly malicious is ill-informed. Apocryphal claims that they feed as much on torture or poison—or breaking apart existing relationships—as they do more enjoyable forms of romantic conquest are but the misinformed conjecture of indolent minds.

Yes, a malcubus might find a degree of pain and suffering to add a certain “spice” to their meals, but how many humans similarly indulge in sadism and/or masochism as a healthy part of our own sexual encounters? Do not forget that incubi—malcubi included—are lust demons above all else. So-called “toxic romance” offers its own frisson-inducing thrill to those of a certain mindset, and those of us with broad inclinations might well embrace the predilections of even the dread malcubus.

With pride, I can confirm having first-hand experience with one such malcubus, Melinka, a sister of Ektinnair. She has been no less delightful a conversational and sexual partner than my host, and I have come to no permanent harm⁴ while in the company, often simultaneously, of both sisters.

I cast no aspersions on Ektinnair, but in the interest of persuading my readers of her character, I must share my belief that Melinka has shown me even greater respect than even my dear friend. Whereas Ektinnair has urged patience and caution in response to my requests to visit the hive queen, Melinka has argued most passionately—citing my singular capabilities—that I be allowed to descend into their most sacred depravities.

Let my own experience serve as a lesson not to misjudge the character of demons based on libelous hearsay. Though they may be birthed en masse by their queen in the way of bees and ants and such eusocial beasts of our world, and though they have specific roles in support of their hive, they cannot be lumped into simple castes in the manner of “worker,” “drone,” et cetera, for they are no simple insects, but whole people with all the breadth and depth of personalities that implies.

And of course there are many more varieties of *cubi than I have named here. I have not touched upon the dyscubi, bicubi, ancubi, or the countless unlabeled others who straddle any line one feels compelled to draw. Do not mistake these examples for an exhaustive set, nor believe that these number the only varieties of lust demon I have personally met in Khavil-Irsei. Feel free to extrapolate at your leisure, but know that however outlandish the fantasies you might imagine, there are creatures stranger still than you can fathom.

To Calliope: I’m ending this entry a touch early in order to prepare myself for a trip to the local market. Ektinnair has finally agreed to again let me be clothed on occasion, and I am enthused beyond words at the prospect of replacing my entire wardrobe with demonic fashion. The next time we see each other, you may be shocked at how little I remember the concept of modest dress!

Hey babe, there’s something really fucked up about Princess.

Like, I seriously don’t fuckin’ get it. I fessed up about the cum thing, y’know? Mostly, anyway. Said I was mistaken, it probably isn’t totally a substitute for real food, and maybe we should figure out what the hell humans can eat down here. She got all concerned, did some weird magic shit, and then told me that she was fine, she “adapted” to it “the same as everything else.” So I kinda shrugged it off, right? Whatever, she wants to keep sucking my dick every time she gets hungry, you know I won’t complain. But then this thing with Mel-mel happened…

Mel was doing her whole “almond milk” bit – which by the way is normally fucking hilarious to do to humans – but I was all “nah don’t do that, Princess, it’s cyanide, and I want to keep you around.” So then the three of us kept fucking, like usual, then later Klix came around again and wanted to make out one more time before she left town, which obviously I said yes. I mean, you haven’t seen her, but she’s stacked – and she’s a bug so I don’t mean titties either – just like damn girl, I’ll never say no to you.

Anyway, I invited her in to have Princess eat her out one more time for the road, and how could she say no to that either, right? Your girl’s got a hell of a talented mouth on her! Most humans wouldn’t even know what to do with bug cunt, but you get yourself a real freak with an oral fixation, and she can work miracles.

So we come back in, right, and Princess is clamped on my sister’s tit, just gulping that poison down like she’s got a death wish. Tried to pry her mouth open to make her spit it out, and the crazy bitch just swallowed faster! Anyway, now she’s super dead, right? Wrong. She’s fine. Acting like she just got fucked into a stupor and then did a rail of verd, but fine.

Tasted it myself – had to make sure it was definitely the good stuff… and it was! Princess just slept it off, and you know what I caught the two of ’em doing next morning? The same damn thing! I woke up with a mouthful of Princess pussy – not that you’ll see me complaining about that either – and a forehead slick with cyanide milk and pre. I look up and see Mel-mel getting a handy while Princess is latched onto her tit again, chugging away.

She’s still fine! What the hell is this girl?

E

P.S. Oh, verd is demon drugs by the way. Way better than whatever you have in the mortal realm. If you’re interested, I’ve got the hook-up for whenever I decide to kidnap you and bring you home.

My Sweet Ekti,

It is heartening to read words expressing such care toward my beloved lady, reassuring me that your firm, strong hands are the right ones to entrust with the object of my devotion. Dear Melinka has proven herself to be something of a rascal, hasn’t she? I am relieved to hear no lasting harm has been done, but please tut at her on my behalf.

I confess to having no prior awareness of my lady having any unusual capacity to consume poisons. All I know is that she prepared herself for the journey down with every means available to her. Perhaps her allusion to “adaptation” is significant? Why not ask her?

In either case, I want to thank you for the illustrations you commissioned, both for my lady and those for myself. Truly, demons of the arts have a capacity to capture the ineffable in a way that moves the heart and more. I find myself routinely flipping back to study one image in particular…

These feelings of envy toward my lady are most unbecoming of me, but how else must I feel knowing what she has seen in person – and in motion?

With wistful longing,

Your Callie

Callie babe, how am I the least horny one right now? You two are gonna give me an identity crisis at this rate.

E

Precious Ekti,

I blush at such sweet words. Your flattery is welcome as ever, though I must protest at any implication that diminishes you. The immensity of your passion inspires me each and every day, and if I achieve greater heights than most, it is because I ride atop a giant.

With crimson cheeks,

Your Callie

At last the foundations have been laid, at least to the bare minimum degree required. We come to the most intriguing facet of demonic society here: the hive. One additional note on terminology before I dive in: the word “hive” has several overloaded meanings, and it requires context to determine which is meant.

Ektinnair’s hive is the home I have been sharing with her since the moment I arrived in the abyss. Hives such as hers are small, private enclosures for personal use, to which every demon within the city is entitled. My dear companion is a deeply practical woman, preferring a minimalist aesthetic with few furnishings aside from her sizable bed and a lavish sprawl of cushioned material on which one may lounge or fornicate.

Our personal hive lies within the part of Khavil-Irsei referred to as “the” hive, distinguished by use of the definite article in much the same way as a witch’s title. The hive quarter is the bustling heart of the city, containing shopping districts, fine art exhibitions, entertainment, grottos for socialization and leisure, and many more kinds of public space. The overwhelming majority of the hive is populated by Ektinnair’s innumerable siblings, but all are welcome to enjoy the hive’s comforts.

Yes, here on display is the full superiority of demon civilization. No bigotries divide demons against one another—here, all forms of sin are welcomed with open arms (and often, open legs). From humanoid figures to bestial—or even monstrous—expressions of physical perfection, here all are represented in a city more cosmopolitan than any in our world.

I am grateful for my beloved friend’s support while giving me the tour of her impossibly perfect city. How I wept to behold the sublime beauty of its architecture, of its inhabitants, of the music drifting from cavernous pits, and of dancing figures indulging themselves in the simple pleasure of movement!

And I have joined them in their revelry, reader. Demons are creatures of unbridled passions, lustful and petty and vain and indulgent and sharp and witty and full of breathtaking life! Full of themselves! Perverts of every imaginable type share the fruits of their perversions with strangers they’ve never met, purely for the pleasure of sharing them!

Yes, I have been treated to the ministrations of sexual perverts aplenty, but until now I had not appreciated how the term “pervert” applies to so many more demonic passions besides. Did you know there are demons for whom the culinary arts are every bit the source of physical pleasure as the most debauched orgy I have ever had the honor of experiencing? You have not truly lived until you have tasted the fruits of their labors!

Ektinnair’s muscled tail was coiled protectively around my waist as she guided me, and if it were not for how she held me upright with it, I fear I might have fallen to my knees on several occasions, so overwhelmed by the delectations of this veritable paradise.

I find myself at a loss, reader. There are no words adequate to paint the picture in your mind, to plant the flavors on your tongue and the songs in your ear. You cannot know true beauty if you have not walked the streets of a demon hive. You look at shadows on a cave wall and imagine that to be the pinnacle of life’s experience, and you are wrong. You are terribly, stupidly wrong. None of you know. None of you even wanted to know, or you could never have kept yourselves from making this same journey.

Is this book even worth it? What kind of wretch might these words ever reach, anyway? The world that birthed me is filled with people no better than beasts swimming in their own filth. Why would I ever want to go back to any of it? I have everything—

To Calliope: My apologies. I am indebted to Ektinnair once again. Perhaps she caught me working myself into a lather, or perhaps she simply became sexually aroused, but she took advantage of my body in order to relieve herself, and that shook me from my foul mood.

The sheer practicality of demon fashion once again demonstrates its value. Wearing a short skirt – sans underwear, of course – enables easy access with minimal fuss to what Ektinnair describes as her “very favorite sheath.” (I am sure it pleases you to hear me relay her exact phrasing on the topic, as you seem to have developed a fondness for her words.) No repeat of the embarrassing faux pas from the other day. My attire is left completely unmussed by our diversion, and I am given to understand that dribbling trail between my legs is considered quite fashionable in this culture.

I hand this over to her now while I take some time to compose myself and take what opportunities I may to immerse myself fully in more demonic experiences.

Hey Callie, what are you wearing?

E

Caring Ekti,

I regret to inform you that I am possessed of no uniform so fashionable as my lady flaunts for your eyes to feast upon. The best I am able to manage is a matching omission of certain undergarments in an effort at more fully empathizing with my lady’s circumstances. My dress itself is tidy and serviceable, but somehow I find myself with a dearth of worry over how your impulses might rumple the fabric.

With an unburdened heart,

Your Callie

You have my copy-cock with you right now?

E

Ekti, I take umbrage at the scandalous implication that it might ever be out of reach. I have been making use of it since the arrival of my lady’s last message to me. For the sake of empathy, you understand.

Callie

Good girl. As well behaved as Princess, yeah? Even better, you’re willing to train yourself without me needing to get hands on with you.

E

Oh Ekti, how terribly cruel of you to call attention to the absence of your hands, when I ache so very much to put them to good use on certain hard-to-reach places. I should summon my lady back home to encourage you to pay me a visit.

Callie

Princess is going nowhere, babe. You’ve gotta know that, right? If you think I’m ever letting a prize like her out of my sight, you’re kidding yourself. Don’t care how she begs or whines or yaps for hours – she always shuts up real good when you shove something nice and thick in her mouth.

E

Oh Ekti, Ekti, Ekti, my lady has a tongue of many talents, but among them is not brevity. You put her skills to much better use than her colleagues ever did. Perhaps it is best that you keep her, but oh, how I find myself at a terrible loss of purpose!

Callie

Hey, Callie. You know I’m coming for you one of these days, yeah? Like, at this point, you’ve got my attention too much to even hope to escape. That hand-crafted dildo you’re getting up close and personal with is as good as a temple dedicated to worshipping me, and babe, I like being worshipped. Your soul is as much mine as Princess’s is, and you wanna know the reason I haven’t claimed you yet?

I’m not even gonna wait for an answer, because I know you do. I can see the wet spots blooming on the page right now. Are you drooling, or is that something sweeter? I do like how pent up and needy you’ve been getting. You fuckin’ need me, don’t you? Nobody else above or below can scratch that Ektinnair-shaped itch between your legs. I can taste your desperation for me all the way down here. You’re a lighthouse in the fog, and I’m a ship or something, and I’m gonna dock inside you with my dick. But I’m gonna let you get good and ripe first before I pluck that fruit.

Just remember, you’re already mine, Callie.

E

Ekti darling, you know just how to write to me. No matter how creative your metaphors may become, I find myself shivering to imagine you speaking them to me, though perhaps not so much as I shiver to imagine what else you may do with me in your clutches.

May I finish? Or would doing so now inspire some dreadful future punishment?

Callie

Sorry Callie, not this time!

E

Oh, terrible fate, it seems I have signed up for that unknown punishment to come.

Callie ♥︎

Gotta take a rain-check on that punishment, darlin’, ‘cause… fuck, Mel-mel’s got her claws into Princess again, and I think I need your help. Every time I think I distracted her from wanting to visit Mom, Mel pushes and teases and lies until Princess is ready to bolt out there on her own. I know it’s her job and all, but fuck! Why can’t she just let me have this one?

Look, if you don’t want your… actually, what is she to you anyway? Are you like her maid or something? Or her wife or girlfriend or whatever with some full-time d/s lifestyle thing going on? Obviously that’s chill, I can work with that, I just don’t know what your deal is.

Anyway, if you don’t want your whatever-she-is-to-you filled with eggs until she bursts and becomes the other mom to a bunch more of my siblings, you gotta talk her out of this. She’s been real fucking disobedient with me about it. Hold on, I’m giving her the book.

E

My Most Ambitious Lady,

To Calliope: Not the time, I’m afraid. I must insist on exclusivity with the book right this moment. With Melinka’s help, I have slipped the protective embrace of Ektinnair’s home. I need to jot some impressions down now while I can, and then hopefully arrive at my destination before my well-intentioned friend catches up to save me from my academic goals.

The Greater Hive, the Quivering Maw, the glorious monument to demonic chaos at the center of the city’s outer hive—it calls to me. It beckons. Here I find the beating heart of hell’s own heaven⁵. The colossal mouth of the abyss sings a siren song, glistening with moisture as though salivating at the prospect of my entry.

No diagram can capture this feeling. Even poetry turns to ash as the ink hits the page. As I write these words, I stand at the precipice of my own life. Here, this is the culmination of my life’s work, my life’s ambitions, my life’s worth.

My lady, as you have stopped writing, I must assume dear Ekti has found you. Please take a moment to allow me to confer with you regarding my concerns about your present approach.

To Calliope: I am sure you will be relieved to hear that Ektinnair and I have had precisely the conversation to which you alluded. Rest assured that Melinka and I have addressed those concerns I am aware she passed along to you, and she has at last relented from her overprotective impulses. We may catch up after what I am sure will be a most fascinating visit with the Queen.

I cling to Ektinnair’s side, supported by her strong arm and tail as I scribble down my pitiful attempts to articulate the experience of this descent. With thanks to Melinka for helping me persuade her, my beloved succubus—my truest friend—has agreed to take me to her mother.

“Her mother.” Ha! It sounds so mundane. No, we are not blushing lovers hoping to impress a parent with how well I can take care of her daughter. The demon Hive Queen is mother to the overwhelming majority of this city’s denizens, and down in the Greater Hive is where she lays the eggs from which Ektinnair’s new siblings will emerge.

In a sense, we’ve already met, though, haven’t we? Her egg-laying body is down there, through the Quivering Maw, inside the Greater Hive, but the whole city-wide hive is also her body. Khavil-Irsei itself—barring the outskirts that have overflowed beyond her bulk—the very city I’ve fallen in love with is Ektinnair’s mother.

Embraced and supported by the person I trust more than anyone I’ve ever known, I prepare to descend to the summit of my life. I know beyond a doubt I have nothing to fear. My mind is clearer than it’s ever been, and my heart sings with absolute certainty: I already love the Hive Queen.