2 CHAPTER TWO: In which an enthusiastic protege arrives, ever in pursuit of knowledge.

Michael sat in the rectory kitchen, drinking water, eating bread, watching television. His mind felt strangely numb, but his body was in pain, aching in places he didn't realize could hurt. It was a different kind of pain than he had ever felt before. His skin felt raw, tender, vulnerable, sensitive to touch in new ways. Even the slightest brush against the sides of his thighs or the insides of his arms made him jump, startled and frightened.

All his body hair had vanished from his neck down, leaving every part of his skin smooth to the touch, almost silky. He was still a fat, middle-aged man, he thought, but now it was as if he had been bathing in hair remover daily. Even the pubic hair around his unremarkable cock had vanished, leaving his scrotum and pubic mound as bald as a baby's. He was too exhausted and tense to indulge in feeling ashamed--but it certainly was an embarrassing situation, at least if anyone found out.

He'd just have to wear long sleeves, his high priest's collar... maybe a face mask, so nobody would notice his lack of hair, his smoothness and his nakedness? No, what was he thinking? His stubble and the thinning hair atop his head were still present. He could at least pretend to be normal, give a sermon, counsel parishioners.

He wondered how long this situation would continue; how long Yael's spell would hold. Surely his hair would grow back eventually, if not immediately. But Yael had forced his body to kneel to her. How powerful was she? If Yael wanted him to go without clothes, then could she have him walk around as a naked priest--dressed only in panties, if she wanted? He shuddered at the thought.

She had made him kneel and sing her praises, blaspheme the church. Michael put his head in his hands. He couldn't believe what he had done. How could she force such things on him against his will? How could he, even for a moment, think of a demoness as his mistress or as a potential lover? Yet, somehow, he had and still did. He remembered their kiss, remembered her hands on him, fondling him, stroking him. Her voice whispering into his ear.

Michael stood up and began to pace. This was what succubae did: worm their way into your heart and mind. Even a gay, celibate priest like himself. He had to accept that he was going to have these thoughts, just as he had long accepted his unswerving attraction to men. It was a matter of resisting, staying pure, not giving in, and grounding himself and his identity on the bedrock of his faith.

No sense in shame: he just had to reject these thoughts. Those thoughts that would come, the thoughts of Yael cradling him, giving orders to him... of crawling on his knees to supplicate before her, of Yael tweaking his nipples and stroking his sensitive skin...

"Father?" A young woman's voice, barely audible through the open door of the kitchen. "Are you all right?"

He turned towards the voice and saw the woman standing in the doorway, a tray in one hand, a bag in the other. Michael smiled weakly. "Ah... Susan. Hello, I wasn't expecting you." Lost in his reverie, he hadn't even seen the young woman there. She was such a slight presence, only a few years out of college but in some ways still looking as if she was in high school, her straight black hair falling around her shoulders.

Michael turned towards her, then realized with horror as his clothing shifted that his dick was rigidly erect, tenting the front of his cassock obscenely. Michael blushed, mortified by the sight of his phallus in the robes that covered it. "Uh... yes, I'm fine," he said lamely. "Just... uh... thinking about the homily for tomorrow. That's all..."

Susan smiled awkwardly at him, unsure what to say. "It must be... quite a homily?" She tried to smile at her own joke and failed. "Really, Father. There's nothing for you to worry about, it's just a natural human reaction." Michael would have expected any other woman to blush, but the reddest face in the room was undoubtedly his own. Then again, Susan had always had a worldly and practical way about her.

Susan sighed and shook her head, walking into the room and setting her tray down on one of the chairs by Michael's desk. "You know, Father," Susan said gently, "if you need someone to talk to about anything, I can help you with that. It's a difficult time and it's perfectly understandable for you to be feeling confused about it all." Michael blinked. Did Susan know about what had happened with Yael? Had she seen, somehow?

Susan continued, "Change is always hard! I'm a good Catholic, I've been coming to this parish for years, but you know... I'm younger! The portals opened before I was even a teenager. So I know that the supernatural is just part of our world now. We have to adapt... and pardon me for saying so, but I think the Church needs to as well." Michael let out his held breath. Susan wasn't talking about him at all, just the general state of the city. He didn't have to worry so much.

"I know what you're going through," Susan continued, sitting down in one of the chairs across from him. "When I came here after my last year in college, I was surprised by how different it felt, living so close to the biggest nexus of portals. But there are so many opportunities as well!" The young woman leaned forwards eagerly, seemingly unaware that the loose neck of her blouse exposed a plunging, lacy bra with a silver crucifix dangling right above her cleavage.

"Ooh, and you know what else? I met a nice boy who lives near me, he seems very sweet, and we get along great! We met at the BDSM beginner's night, because as you know I've been studying kink fetish too, along with my other studies... and he wants to take me to something called a play party, I guess?"

Michael nodded absently at the girl, distracted by the sight of her breasts moving against her blouse, which never would have inspired even momentary notice before his recent experiences with Yael. "Um, Susan," he paused her. "I am always happy to counsel you, but you know that the Church takes a dim view of both promiscuous sexual activity and study of the occult, right?" Susan was always strangely forthright about her interest in both the supernatural and human sexuality; it was a combination that he was suddenly all too aware of.

Susan's expression grew pensive as she considered her words carefully. "Yes, Father. Yes, you are correct. And I apologize. I meant no disrespect or dishonor to the parish. I will stop any further discussion of this topic and be more mindful of Church teachings in future."

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. The girl was enthusiastic, but sometimes too much so, and in dangerous directions. Still, she was incredibly helpful. He only wished he could tell her about the succubus. Maybe... he could? Even indirectly? "So, what have you brought today...?" he asked, nodding at the tray Susan had set down.

Susan glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if anyone else was around before speaking. "Well, you may be interested to hear that I have just finished reading one of your books that I borrowed, 'The Book of Night Women'." Susan had been raiding the parish library, which dated back many decades and still had a few tomes that the Vatican had ordered banned.

"It's not my book," Michael pointed out, "We're not even supposed to have it. But may I ask... why did you decide to borrow... that particular volume?" Too coincidentally, The Book of Night Women included many detailed passages about succubae.

Susan shrugged, blushing slightly as Michael's eyes lingered on her chest again briefly. "Oh, it's a really interesting story! A group of women who are all witches or sorceresses or something in Africa, they meet together and try to find ways to deal with the demons in their village."

"And if I'm remembering right--it's been years since I read it, of course, since before the portals--these village wise women are dealing with a number of succubae?" Michael asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

Susan nodded excitedly. "Exactly! The succubae in their village have been kidnapping girls to turn them into succubae, or perhaps merely seducing them into becoming succubae themselves. The author goes on to describe the methods they use to defeat the demons, and then she describes the rituals traitors in the group perform to become succubae themselves. It's really fascinating!"

Susan giggled, clearly titillated by the thought. "Of course, the main character ends up succubating herself unintentionally and becomes part of the ritual, which is kind of scary when you think about it. But it's a lot less scary than being eaten alive by a hunger demon!"

Michael smiled wanly at Susan's enthusiasm. "To think that a whole community could be so vulnerable. Some who turned to darkness, others who fell... how many women total ended up... 'succubating,' as you put it?"

Susan shook her head sadly. "A half-dozen or more, Father." Michael winced. How long would Yael keep transforming him? Would it end eventually? Or would it go on until his entire body had been transformed? He shuddered. He'd better get used to it soon, because he wasn't sure he could stand much more of this.

Susan peered at him, leaning forward again. Her bra was a lacy navy demi-bra, and her left breast was popping out of it slightly, exposing its rosy areola. "Are you all right, Father? You seem troubled."

Michael looked away quickly, embarrassed, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks. He was so easily distracted lately; he didn't want Susan to think badly of him. "I'm fine," he said, trying for a smile.

Susan nodded, apparently satisfied. "All right. Well, thank you for talking to me, Father. I wanted to show you what I gathered here on this tray. A few items that could be handy in case we ever have to deal with demons!"

She reached down to pick up an object that had fallen to the floor next to the couch where Michael sat and held it up for Michael to see. It was a small silver amulet, about an inch wide. It seemed to be made of metal or some other material that was shiny but not reflective like polished aluminum or steel. "This is a phylactery of Saint Michael," she said with excitement, "or it's supposed to be. It has onyx laid into it, which is supposed to have demon-repelling properties, and a little teensy-weensy scroll with prayers."

The same prayer he had tried on Yael last night with no luck, thought Michael. He wondered if the prayers might work on Yael now, though he doubted it. Yael must have been immune somehow. He sighed. At least he'd learned from the experience that the prayers didn't work against Yael, but maybe there was another way. "The saint's symbol is an archangel holding a sword," continued Susan, pointing the symbol out.

"And um... why are you collecting these things? Just for fun? You're a little too old to be assembling knickknacks, Susan. Some of these things are purely superstition. Is that sage? And a vial of store-bought holy water? You know we can bless water here, don't you?" She just grinned at him, her eyes sparkling like a schoolgirl's.

"But why do you collect these things in the first place?" Michael pressed her.

"For a graduate degree in theology and demonology!" she exclaimed. "This is a good example of how the Church has dealt with succubus possession in the past, and I want to use it for my thesis. As you know, I'm taking a semester off right now, but all that really means is that I've got to start working on the thesis I'll eventually submit."

Susan sighed, then continued. "I'm going to use a lot of archival material. But I wanted to know if there have been any actual, real-life examples you could point me to. An account of a possession happening somewhere in New York, or even a survivor?" Her eyes glistened with hope, and Michael sighed inwardly. The irony was unbearable, of course. But he couldn't tell her that she was talking to a possession victim at that very moment.

He nodded, feigning interest in the objects around him, as he searched through the stack of books nearby to find one that might answer her question, and perhaps give him some idea of the best approach to take in dealing with Yael.

The book he chose was called Demonology: The Devil Within by Father Matthew Gannon. "Let's look at this text, Susan. Maybe we'll find something about the area, about demons that have visited here in the past? I'm not supposed to be doing this, but I don't mind since it's your master's thesis we're talking about." And, he thought, an urgently important topic that I need to learn about... if it could save my very life, existence, and soul.

Susan smiled gratefully and settled back onto the sofa across from him, flipping open the book to read it while he scanned it for relevant passages.