My Succubus Daughter

Author's note:

For chapter 2, I'm doing something I normally would not, a complete switch of the POV. You will notice quite a shift in the registry. I hope it will help your immersion in the story.

Please, remember to comment. This is all very experimental and your feedback is extremely precious.

Enjoy the reading, and all the best!

---

My Succubs Daughter - Chapter 2

What the fuck?

I don't get it. What did I do wrong? Came in too strong? I don't think so. Nuh-uh, that can't be it. He likes me. At least, I think he does. Then why in the seven circles would he refuse a blowjob -- twice!

I was hoping this morning he would feel more in the mood, and I guess he kinda was. His morning wood looked almost painful. But no.

"You don't need to thank me in any way," he said, smiling and trembling. "Especially this one."

I get it that incest is some sort of big no-no in these parts, but I didn't think it would have been that much of a big deal for him, considering the stuff he watches on the internet.

I went through his entire browsing history. Nothing super-nasty, at least by my standards. His pupils and their parents could have a different opinion, though. Then again, he would also blush hard if he knew some of the stuff they go through every night on their laptops and smartphones, when Mom and Dad are sleeping, when they should tuck themselves in because tomorrow is a school day but just can't because... Well, because.

I conjure my phone and start tapping. Here's the list of all his female students. Let's organize them in order of horniness. Perfect! Now, let's see what they... Mmm, maybe this is not the best idea. I'm not sure Dad would be happy if I brought him his students' private stuff. Curious? Sure, but not happy.

This doesn't make any sense. Maybe he is teasing me? Of course, he is. I'm so fucking mad... and turned on. This is all some ruse to get all the control, and it is working. All that gentlemanliness is an act, and I'm totally falling for it.

Damn. Maybe Mom was right. I'm in over my head. I'm not ready for something like this. No! No, no, no. That's her speaking. I can totally seduce my Dad. I'll make him super happy. I'll give him everything he ever wanted and then some. Then... then he will want to keep me.

Where has he gone, BTW? He promised to take me shopping. He didn't just leave me here, did he? Oh no. Did I fuck up?

"My apologies for keeping you waiting." Oh, thank Lucifer. Of course he didn't leave me. He is a cool guy, I'm sure of it. "You okay?"

Damn, he's getting in my head. Get it together, girl!

"I'm great!" I beam at him. "Just going through some stuff in my head."

"Here," he hands me a plastic glass, full of a turbid liquid I don't recognize. There's a big straw on top. Must be a drink. "I hope you like it. My kids just can't get enough of this stuff."

"What is it?"

"Overly-sugared Earl Grey and tapioca." He sits next to me on the bench, more distant than I would like.

I give the weird liquid a try. Dense, watered down milk flows inside my mouth, followed by a tiny sweet ball that simply melts on my tongue. It is godly.

"Holy shit!" I squeal. "This -- is fucking great."

"It is? I can get you another if you--"

"No! This is the shit!" I drain half of it with one voracious drag.

"I'm so relieved to hear you say that." He smiles, but it is kind of a sad smile. What's wrong with him? "I have no idea what your tastes are like. And I should. Good God, I should."

To know someone is to have power over them. At least, that's what Mom always said. Is that what Dad is trying to do? Doesn't really feel like it. I'm so fucking clueless.

"You are not having any?" I ask, sipping as loudly as I can.

"I'm a hot tea person," he chortles. "Yes, in spite of the heat."

Again, I try to read him, and I'm not sure I'm doing well. Should I tease him a little? I need to be careful or he will put his guard up again. I pull up my legs and let my feet fall on his lap. He flinches, but does not escape.

I knew it! He does like me. I wonder if he has a thing for feet. He watched a few footjob videos, but not that many. Maybe he was just curious. Oh, Daddy. If you only knew the things your little girl can do with her toes.

"S-so," he starts, hoping I did not notice his semi-erection. "Are you ready to go shopping?"

"Almost," I pull a few more tapioca balls out of the straw. "I want to stay here just a little longer. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all."

I hide my smirk behind my drink.

"How are you feeling?" He asks. "Does your... disguise not bother you?"

"Mmm? Oh, I'm used to wearing this one. It's comfortable, like the sandals I'm wearing." I give him my best wicked grin and stretch out my toes. "I still prefer going barefoot, though."

"I understand," he says, not understanding at all.

I would gladly pull down his zip with my toes and go at it, but there's just too many people here. All I can do is enjoy what little power he is willing to give me.

"This is not bothering you, is it?" I tease.

"No, no. Of course not." Of course. "Although it might give someone the wrong impression."

"Mmm? What do you mean?" I sip some more, making as much noise as possible. "Is this inapprops?"

"Well, I wouldn't say inappropriate. Just unusual."

You better get used to unusual, Dad. And fast.

"So that's why everyone's staring," I prick him.

"S-staring?"

Look at him squirm! I laugh my ass off.

"I'm joking," mostly.

He smiles, not sadly but benevolently. I like it when he does that.

"What?" I ask. "Something on my face?"

"I believe most people here are staring at you, not us."

I look around and... he's right, I guess. I am turning a few heads.

There's that guy with the mop, stealing glances, trying to be all discreet and totally failing.

A boy in his early twenties checks me out, hoping his girlfriend does not catch him doing that. She totally does, by the way.

A girl about my age eyes me from behind the phone she is pretending to scroll on. Is she taking a pic? No need to be all discreet like that, hon. I smile at her and make a V sign. She panics -- for a moment, then tries to act casual.

An older woman pauses by a storefront, glaring at me and rolling her eyes. She judges me, the old crone. But I can tell you used to be trouble too. Didn't you, granny?

A pair of teenagers walk past us. One nudges the other. He whispers something that makes them both snicker like two horny young wolves. Poor things, if they only knew that they are no more than a pair of puppies. Totally toothless... but also kinda cute.

Finally there's some guy in a suit, big corporate energy, all measure and discipline. Too bad for him that I can see right through those. And you are the worst of the lot.

"Ophelia?" Dad calls me.

"Mmm? Oh, sorry. Kinda spaced out for a moment."

I finish my super-sweet tea and toss the glass into the nearest trash bin, next to the fountain, about ten yards away.

"Wow!" Miles marvels. "That was one hell of a three-pointer."

"Right?" I giggle. "Come on, let's go shopping!"

Over the course of the next three hours, I drag Dad along the whole mall. If it was up to me, I would try on every single piece of clothing on display. Everything is so colorful, soft, and beautiful. It is nothing like home. The only thing I find strange is how prudish all these clothes are, although I do find a few happy exceptions to this sad rule. Daddy's gonna be my judge, of course. And I will pick my purchases depending on how hard he blushes.

"How about this?" I ask, showing off a simple pastel dress, an obvious wrong choice.

"It looks very cute," he approves, and I disapprove. "Why don't you try it on?"

"Um, yes I will. But first," I pick a few more pieces, for a devastating escalation. "This one, and this one. Oh! This one too."

I try on the pastel dress first. It's pathetic. It barely brings out my shapes. I could be good for playing the sweet and innocent part, though. I would just need something extra-sleazy to wear under it. Guys love this kind of reveal. Let's see how it goes.

"How do I look?" I ask, emerging from the changing booth.

"Oh, you are..." His shy smile is just too cute. "Positively adorable."

Yeah, wrong answer. Either he's seeing right through my bluff or he is not the sweet and innocent kind of guy. It's fine. I know what I will try on next.

"What about this?" I emerge from the booth with an oversized shirt and undersized shorts. The neck falls off my shoulder just perfectly.

"I, erm..." he laughs, with a little red on his cheeks. "I'm not sure I'm the one you should ask. I understand very little about fashion."

Silly, Daddy. This has very little to do with fashion. Let's push harder.

"How about this one?" I come out with extremely tight leggings and a crop top. Now, this gets his attention.

"That... is very nice."

"Are you sure?" I turn around for him. "It doesn't make my butt look too big, does it?"

"I wouldn't say that, no."

Why is he looking away? Maybe he is more of a tit man? If so, I'm screwed. Unless...

"Let me try something on, real quick."

I return into the booth and pull off the top. Let's see if I can do this right.

"Okay, better?"

"It is lovel--" His face twists in confusion. Not the right kind of confusion, though. Or is it? "Ophelia... did you put on a padded bra?"

"A padded bra?" I push up my gorged up chest for him. He doesn't seem all that thrilled. My gosh, he's difficult to read. "You don't like it?"

"How can I put this?" He shakes his head. "You really don't need it. Nobody needs it less than you do."

I'm not sure how to take that, but I gladly lose these. Shapeshifting huge tits is hard as balls; plus, they are fucking heavy.

I return to the booth and try to pick something different. I'm not sure how much more I can escalate. Maybe we should go to a swimwear store, or would that be a bit much? We are by the sea. I'll think about it later. Now, let's try our final piece.

These are just the cutest, crop top and mini-almost-micro skirt. The pattern is chaotic with mixed colors, like they were puked on by a unicorn. Now, this is the perfect blend between sweet, innocent, and very much inapprops.

I come out of the booth. "Check this out."

Dad turns to me and I finally see the shade of red I was looking for.

"It is very lovely, dear." He gulps, and sweats. Yes, this is the one. "Aren't your legs cold?"

We spend what's left of the morning picking a few more clothes, shoes, and even a new purse. I am euphoric -- at first. As we hop from store to store, with more and more purses, I do feel a hint of guilt. How much money is he spending? I don't know much about the teaching profession, but I do know the pay is shit.

I gently hint that what we got should be plenty. Dad insists on buying a few more fundamentals. Toothbrush, hairbrush, some shampoo and conditioner. He even offers to buy me makeup, and to that I have to say no. I bet he spent half his salary already.

"I got my own," I lie.

"Are you sure?" he asks, all too happy to hear it.

"Sure! Plus, I'm cute. I don't need that much makeup, do I?"

He beams, almost moved. "You absolutely do not."

We stop to grab a hamburger. It's so fucking good. I devour mine, along with all my fries, and half of Dad's. If I manage to stick around long enough, gluttony will become my second favorite sin.

After lunch, we return home. Home... it was stupid easy for me to start calling it that. Shows how desperate I am. I can't let that shine through. It is tiny, but it's cool. I don't need that much space, and the forced proximity plays in my favor.

I waltz in and kick off my sandals. I stretch out my toes, my tail, and rub my horns. Those are still a bitch to hide. Not as much of a bitch as the first time I tried it, but still, not comfortable.

I notice Dad smiling at me. He looks pleased. With himself? He should be. He has been super cool this morning. Maybe he is finally in the mood for a proper thank you.

I go to him and throw my arms around his neck. He flinches, heart racing and pressure mounting. He is hoping I didn't notice, which is just adorable. I am so going to eat you up, Daddy.

"Thank you for everything," I whisper in his ear.

"Don't mention it," he returns. "I believe I owe you far more than a few pieces of clothing."

I look at him all puzzled. What does he mean by that? This feels like one of Mom's mind games.

"I should have been there for you," he explains.

"You didn't even know I existed." Duh.

"And I deeply regret that."

So he is happy that I'm here. I knew it! I fucking knew it. He still won't kiss me, though. Why? This is so confusing.

"It's all Mom's fault." I smirk. "And don't pretend you don't get it."

"Yes, about her..." He grows uneasy, and I can't blame him. "Does she know you are here? Won't she be looking for you? I mean, she must be worried."

Worried? Ha! Yeah, right. The one thing she will be worried about is if I took her stupid jewels again.

"Believe me, it's gonna be months before she even notices I'm gone."

"But she will, eventually," he goes on, genuinely concerned. "Might she be mad at you?"

"Fuck if I care." I pull back and cross my arms.

There's one long pause. Dad looks tense, like someone holding a sixteen at blackjack.

"I assume you are not exactly on good terms," he says.

Fuck, no! She never told me who my Dad was. And now that I know him, I can guess why. That is what I would say, if I didn't know how much of a bad idea it would be. I can't just drop that kind of load on him like this. Not yet, at least. I shut the fuck up.

"Look, Ophelia, you don't owe me an explanation," Dad says. "I just want to know if you might get in trouble, that's all."

Why is he so insisting? Is he scared? Should I tell him everything? No. No, no, no. He'll send me away. I already said too much.

"I can handle her," I lie, spectacularly and perfectly. "No need to worry about anything."

"I am glad to hear it."

He means that, wholeheartedly. Was I that convincing? Gosh, Dad. You can't be that easy to manipulate. You make me feel guilty.

"So, what do we do the rest of the day?" I ask, smiling suggestively.

"Oh, I..." He hesitates, though not the way I wanted. "I fear I will be forced to sit down and get on with my work."

"Can't you take another day off?" I whine, selfish little brat that I am.

Miles smiles a sad smile. "Trust me, Ophelia. I have half a mind of signing a resignation letter and spending a whole year making up for at least some of the time we have lost." Oh, Daddy... "But if I did, that would be a major, major, major inconvenience to a lot of people who really don't deserve it."

"What about what I deserve?"

Why did I say that? That came out all wrong. Shit, shit, shit!

"Ophelia, I..."

"No! Please, forget I said that. It was stupid, and... not cool."

He goes on with that sad smile of his. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

"However I want?" Because I have ideas!

"W-within reason."

Of course, I didn't expect you to just hand me a blank check like that. But don't you worry, Daddy. Your little girl knows how to be persistent, and bring down even the most stubborn inhibitions.

Someone buzzes at the door. Dad glances at me. Why? Oh, right! I need to shapeshift back into my human self. Quick, quick!

Miles opens the door. It's the landlady. Gosh, look at those tits. That's a whole lot of woman. Miles's eyes drop down to her cleavage, before he picks them right up. She didn't notice, but I sure did.

"Cynthia! Hello." Damn Dad, I worked very hard to get half of that erection.

"Hello, Miles." "Hello, young lady." She smiles at him and waves at me.

"Hi." I wave back, grinning, and wondering what her nipples will taste like.

"Is everything okay?" Dad asks.

"Depends," she teases him. "You didn't skip lunch again, did you?"

"He didn't," I grin wider. "I made sure."

Dad chortles, then falls silent like an idiot.

And here comes another long pause. I wish I had that kind of effect on Dad. She's also not entirely indifferen to him. Look at her checking him out. She would love some more attention but Dad is too shy.

Mmm...

"Anyway," the big beautiful queen resumes. "I came to ask if your niece is going to stay long."

"My niece?" Dad! "Oh, of course. Well, the fact is..."

Dad smiles at me. What is going on? Damn, I can read her like an open book, but he? He's a fucking cipher.

"Cynthia, I believe I should just tell you."

"Tell me what?" the big busted beauty asks.

"This young woman came to me bearing very credible evidence that she is indeed my daughter."

"Say what?" She doesn't believe that. Indeed, she looks at me, fearing I might be some kind of scammer. Can't blame her, I guess.

"Yeah..." I escape her suspicious glare. "I just found out too. It's complicated."

"I bet it is." Cynthia shifts her gaze between Dad and me. "Miles, this is none of my business but--"

"We will have a DNA test, eventually," Dad says. "I'm sure we'll have to go through one hell of a lot of paperwork."

Cynthia is not convinced. She hides that well, but not well enough. "I only meant to--"

"I know, and I am much obliged," Dad goes on. "So far, I have had little to no reason to doubt her. So, until proven otherwise, she is my daughter."

He looks me straight in the eyes, and makes me feel all kinds of tingly. Damn, he's good! I'm starting to think I haven't got all of my talent from Mom.

"I see." Cynthia makes a resigned smile. "I assume she will be staying with you for the foreseeable future, yes?"

"That, she will," Dad says, and I feel like a boulder was lifted off my chest. "For as long as she wants to, of course."

"Yeah, that won't do," the landlady says.

"What? W-why?"

"Look at this place. It's tiny! Where would you sleep?" have an idea or two about that. "I'm sorry, Miles, but I'm moving you out."

"Moving me out?" Dad panics. "Where?"

"Downstairs. Apartment 4B is empty for the next three months at least. You can stay there until you find somewhere proper. No offense, Miles, but this is no place to have a guest, let alone raise a child."

Excuse you, lady? What did you just call me?

"I'm not a child." I protest.

"Of course you are not." Her eyes fall to my new attire, and everything beneath. She looks at me with more judgment and concern, than desire. Can't say that is what I was going for, but I'll take it. "All the more reason not to keep you inside this sardines can."

We trade smiles.

"Cynthia, I..." Dad blushes, and scratches the back of his head to hide it. "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes!" I intervene. "And invite her to stay for dinner."

Now both of them are blushing.

"That's mighty kind of you, sweetheart," Cynthia says. "But there is no need--"

"Yes there is, and Dad is going to be super sad if you say no, won't you Daddy?" I cast my arms around his neck and carefully observe Cynthia's reaction.

The plump woman holds her composure well, but not well enough to fool the likes of me. I can sense her tensing up, growing a little jealous, somewhat hopeful. Come on, Dad, how can you not see it?

"We just got some groceries," he says, after a lot of nonverbal encouragement. "We would be very happy to have you over... as long as it is compatible with your schedule, of course."

"Well," she pretends to think about it. "Why not? If it's not too much of a bother."

"Great! Bring wine," I say.

"Are you old enough to drink, young lady?" Cynthia asks.

"I won't touch a drop," I promise. "Daddy could use some spoiling though. He never treats himself."

In the afternoon, Daddy must work. He is terrified to be a bad host. I remind him that I am Gen Z. All I need to stay entertained is a charger. While he sits at the desk, I lie on the sofa, with my tail in the air, and scrolling through Cynthia's browsing history.