The Monster's Apprentice: Chapter 78 - The Beast and the Harlot | Part 1

Content Advisory: We have entered the third act of Volume 2. The upcoming chapters in this volume contain significantly more intense and potentially distressing material. Be aware that themes may include graphic violence, explicit gore, and situations involving coercion or violations of personal boundaries. Reader discretion is advised.

“To some succubi, torment is an art form they cherish, a carefully rehearsed performance of seduction and psychological decay. They thrive not on death, but on the gradual dismantling of the human psyche. Blood and semen are vital for them to live, but torture is what they live for. Each victim is studied, their fears cataloged, and their desires exploited. The succubus relishes the slow erosion of identity, turning love into obsession, pleasure into guilt, and trust into isolation. It is not the body they crave; it is the moment a person looks in the mirror and no longer recognizes who they are. That is when the succubus feasts.”

— Faelyn Sylsalor, “Demons and Their Curses: Volume 2,” page 149

Author’s Note: This chapter (and the next) contains extended scenes of psychological torture, body horror, non-consensual kissing/sexual menace, and humiliation. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Come.

Find.

Me.

They aren’t words that Emily hears, but instead feels.

A call from her heart. From her soul.

It is a guiding light that pulls her from her desk.

The birds are silent.

The insects are silent.

“Try again.”

The man’s face is solid like frozen wax. He is looming over Emily.

Fire is in her hands. It is cold and unwelcoming.

She trudges through the snow. She lets her legs carry her. She wants to see more.

The endless field of white stretches.

The road ahead passes through a large, ornate gateway, framed with stone pillars, and swirling metallic filigree that forms elegant patterns resembling blooming flowers and twisting roots. It’s elvish. She recognizes the patterns and symbols. She doesn’t know what it means.

The stone is cold and slick. Moss tickles between her toes.

Closer.

“Hopeless.”

Flames lick at her ankles. Screams. The sky is opening. It is red.

Blood is raining.

Closer.

The bridge is smooth. Limestone. Bloody. Crests are etched into the stone. It is made with fancy elvish railings.

She walks under it.

“A waste of my time.”

Red gashes split the sky. The screams are loud, and the fire is roaring. The snow is red. It is raining embers.

The world is ending.

The arch is impossibly tall and black like obsidian. Two massive doors engraved in an ancient wall of stone. They stand slightly ajar. The gap between them reveals only darkness.

She pushes, and she is inside.

The pyramid is never-ending. She walks.

Strike!

Pivot!

BANG!

Parry!

BANG!

Slice!

They are everywhere. Monsters. They are coming for her.

She runs faster.

The fossil is waiting. It reaches for her. She takes its hand, six bony fingers interlocking with hers.

Power.

Pain snaps her leg.

She falls. She is back at her desk. Her blood was everywhere.

A roar cracks the sky, and the roof flies away.

Scorching fire.

It burns.

Burns.

Burns…

She can’t feel her hands.

Emily woke with a jolt.

A dull pain throbbed in her head, like someone had driven a spike through it.

Worse still, everything was black. Her mouth was stuffed full of something coarse, it tasted like old, unwashed fabric. She gagged and tried spitting it out, but something else was wrapped tightly around her face.

Emily’s heart raced as panic quickly burst through her. She twisted frantically, only to find her arms locked tight against her body. Leather creaked under the strain as she struggled. Her chest heaved as her breath came in short, panicked gasps, muffled by the gag.

She heard the sound of metal clanking, and then, something touched her. Emily tried pulling away, letting out a muffled scream, but she could hardly move her head either.

The blindfold was ripped away, and she was blinded by the light of an oil lamp hanging above her.

Two vampires were standing before her, both heavily armored in black plate mail. One had his sword drawn, the tip of his blade aimed straight for her heart. The other one, who stood with a blood-crusted blindfold in his hands, sneered at her.

“Don’t try anything,” he hissed.

“Not unless you want to know the taste of steel,” the other added.

Emily was restrained by a leather straitjacket. Her arms were pinned so tightly against her torso that she could barely breathe without feeling the sharp bite of the straps digging into her ribs. What was worse was that she was bound to a battered wheelchair by thick leather bands across her chest, stomach, and legs.

She sobbed and forced herself to look around. The room was small and windowless. The ceiling was low enough that even standing, the vampires would have trouble swinging those swords properly. The best they could manage would be a short stab.

Emily tried to summon magic in defence, but the moment she reached for it, she recoiled. It was like trying to move a limb that wasn’t even there. A sick, twisting sensation seized her stomach. Her magic was recoiling inside her, straining against something cold and heavy that clamped around her wrists.

Silver.

Her skin prickled where the bands touched her. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but just barely enough to notice. And it wasn’t just her wrists. Silver strips and rings were fastened into the straitjacket.

She had never thought she’d ever feel the sensation of silver blocking her magic, and now that she was, she hated it. It made her feel naked and frail.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She bit down hard on the gag and sobbed as she tried again to wrestle free.

A knock at the door startled her, and the vampires glanced away.

The one with the blindfold moved to open it.

Beyond the door was a barely lit corridor, and standing there was a crowd of women. Nurses, in the loosest sense of the word. They pressed shoulder to shoulder, the thin fabric of their uniforms clinging to damp skin. Their nipples were visibly stiff beneath the gauze. One idly traced a clawed finger along the deep cleft between her breasts, leaving a streak of blood.

Emily locked eyes with one, staring deep into the ember-red hue that burned into her soul. Her dark hair cascaded perfectly over her smooth, bare shoulders. She tilted her head at Emily, with a disgusting smile that revealed her shark-like teeth.

“Oh... look at her,” she purred in a voice so rich and syrupy that it made Emily feel uncomfortable. “Those pretty little tears…”

Another one of the women, blonde and statuesque, leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed beneath her barely covered chest. “She looks so fragile,” she murmured.

“So delicate,” breathed a third, licking her lips in a way that made Emily’s stomach turn.

“It’s almost adorable,” another giggled, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger, “how she thinks crying will help.”

Emily shrank against the back of the chair, her cheeks burning.

“Mmm, poor thing,” said another. “She’s trembling.”

“Maybe we should show her some kindness,” said the one with dark hair. “Make her feel… welcome.”

A wave of laughter washed over the crowd of women like a sickness.

“Silence, all of you!” said a soft, yet powerful voice.

Instantly, the nurses shrank back, almost reverently, but not before Emily saw one of them slide a hand between another’s thighs from behind. Their fingers slipped easily under the hem of a skirt that was little more than a belt. A soft, wet sound followed, and the touched nurse exhaled a shuddering moan that made Emily’s stomach flip.

One figure glided through the crowd. She moved with the grace of an elf, her hips swaying in such a way that the air itself seemed to tremble. Her hair was like a smooth, black waterfall spilling perfectly over her shoulders. Her eyes were an impossible shade between red and violet, and they locked onto Emily with a gaze so intimate that it made her feel stripped of everything.

“Go,” the woman said. “Inform him that she has awoken.”

The two armored vampires waited until she stepped into the room, then bowed their heads and left quietly. The sea of women closed behind them, and Emily was left utterly alone in their presence.

When the woman stepped closer to Emily, she tried pulling away, but her bonds were too strong. Her heart pounded hard enough she could hear it, thundering in her ears. She whimpered through the gag.

The woman knelt so she was level with Emily. Up close, her skin was unnaturally flawless, so pale and smooth that it almost glowed against the dark leather corset that clung to her hourglass figure like a second skin. She hooked her fingers under the sodden rag and drew it out slowly. The cloth was soaked through with Emily’s own saliva. Long strands of spit clung between the fabric and Emily’s lips, stretching and snapping as the woman lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Mmm. Fear tastes so clean on you.”

Emily tried to put on a tough face, but the quiver of her voice betrayed her. “W-Who are you?” she squeaked.

The woman smiled. “Oh, sweetie, you can call me whatever you like.” The purr of her voice was so smooth; it was almost intoxicating, and Emily could listen to it for hours and never get tired of it. The woman’s finger then traced a line from Emily’s collarbone up along her neck, tilting her chin up. “But most call me Xeliara,” she leaned in closer. “And you are Emily, the one I’ve heard so much about.”

Emily’s heart jumped between fluttering and stuttering in terror. Her words almost made her feel something in her core like excitement, but everything around her reminded her that she was anywhere but pleasant. “W-Where am I?” she croaked. “How did I get here?”

“Oh, you poor thing, you’re at Saint Black Hospital and Asylum, sweetie. You had a terrible little accident…” She tucked a lock of Emily’s sweat-dried hair behind her ear. “...and now, we’re here to take such good care of you.”

Emily’s eyes darted around the room, desperate, searching for some kind of help, but the nurses at the door just leaned against the frame, grinning hungrily at her like she was something to be eaten.

Emily gave a short, nervous laugh as she tried and failed to articulate something to say. Her body was jumping between so many emotions at once, it was becoming overwhelming. On one hand, she wanted to lean into Xeliara’s warm, gentle touch, but on the other hand, she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling squeezing her heart. This was wrong. So, very wrong. She didn’t like it at all, and the longer Xeliara held her, the sicker she felt.

“Where does it hurt, sweetie?” Xeliara asked. “Here?”

Before Emily could react, Xeliara’s fingernail jabbed hard into Emily’s side. She yelped and whimpered as a red stain blossomed on the white fabric of the straitjacket.

Xeliara chuckled. “Or maybe here?” she said, jabbing the other side just as viciously.

Emily stiffened, her teeth grinding together to keep from making a sound. The pain snapped through her so fast she was pulled right back into the horror of it all. She was trapped. She couldn’t move. And this woman was crawling all over her.

“I know it hurts, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

Emily let out another whimper as Xeliara slowly withdrew her nail. It was as long and as sharp as a kitchen knife.

“Do you want to know what helps me when something hurts?” She caressed the sides of Emily’s head. “A nice… big… kiss…”

Emily jerked back as Xeliara’s hot lips smashed into hers. Xeliara’s thick, muscular, and jointed tongue slide past Emily’s teeth like a snake. It pushed deeper than should have been possible, bulging the soft skin under Emily’s jaw as it coiled against the back of her throat. Emily gagged helplessly; tears and drool spilled from the corners of her stretched lips while Xeliara moaned into the kiss. She choked and thrashed violently in her wheelchair as she tried to pull away, but the leather held her firm. It wormed deep into her gut, coiling and writhing.

Emily’s eyes rolled back as she gasped helplessly around it, her lungs screaming for air.

Finally, Xeliara pulled away, and bile shot up Emily’s throat. She coughed it out onto her lap, leaving a string of it to leak from her lips as she doubled over as much as the restraints allowed.

“See?” Xeliara said sweetly. “Doesn’t that make you feel so much better?”

Emily coughed harder as her throat burned with the bitter taste. She spat a glob of saliva onto the floor, trying to get as much of the vomit from her mouth as she could. Then, she glared back at Xeliara with all the hatred she could muster. “Fuck you! Stay out of my head!”

Xeliara giggled.

Emily’s heart was hammering against her ribs, but she forced herself to speak through it, though every word scraped her raw throat. “You’re a succubus. I’ve read about you. You read people’s minds by kissing them!” She cast a quick, terrified glance at the other nurses. They weren’t human at all. They were monsters. And in that moment, the realization hit Emily with all the force of a gut punch; She wasn’t just in danger… She was their prey.

Xeliara’s smile widened, her suddenly sharp teeth flashing in the dim light of the room. “And she’s smart too.” She dragged her razor-thin nail slowly up Emily’s chest and along her neck. A thin line of blood welled in its wake.

Emily winced, pressing her head back against the chair as far as she could.

“Then you must also know exactly what we’re capable of,” Xeliara said.

Emily trembled under her touch. “And how to kill you too.”

Xeliara only giggled. “So fiery you are.” She rose slowly to her feet and took a step back. “I wonder what else you’re feeling right now? Hmm… scared? Helpless? Perhaps useless?”

Emily glared at the woman, struggling to hold herself together. She was squeezing her fists, digging her nails into her palms just to keep herself focused. Her straitjacket had ridden up during her struggling, exposing a strip of stomach and the waistband of her underwear. Xeliara noticed spread Emily’s stolen legs slightly, just enough for the nurses to glimpse the faint shadow of hair visible through the thin, sweat-soaked cotton clinging between them. “And still so… untouched. No, we need a better look.”

Emily’s eyes went wide as Xeliara’s bones shifted beneath her skin. Her unnatural beauty was distorted and twisted. Her spine rippled, her joints snapped, her limbs bent and compressed to the point of tearing. It was like she had an army of bugs burrowing around inside her, struggling to break free.

Xeliara had shrunken in height, and her once-voluptuous figure had diminished to the point that her clothes sagged like rags off a skeleton. Her long, luxurious hair retracted into her scalp, and her visage warped into something horrifyingly familiar.

Emily’s heart was beating in her ears and wrists as well as in her chest, as she stared back at her own face.

Xeliara twirled playfully in her new body, letting her clothes fall away so that everything was laid bare.

Emily’s cheeks flushed red as the nurses began murmuring and whispering, and giggling. She tugged against the leather straps, desperate to turn her gaze away, but Xeliara made sure she had nowhere else to look.

“Hmm,” Xeliara hummed, running her hands along her new, borrowed skin. She weighed her small breasts in her palms like fruit that had failed to ripen. Her thumbs circled her nipples until they stiffened, then pinched hard enough to bruise. “What a strange, pathetic little creature you are.” She traced her finger along the faint scars marring Emily’s body, and her smile twisted in disgust. “My, this is no way for a lady to look. It’s unsightly.”

Emily’s stomach churned as shame and anger warred inside her chest. Xeliara was just trying to get into her head, she knew that. She had read about how succubi play mind games. But her honey-coated words tasted like poison, and the more she listened to her, the harder it became to resist the pressure building behind her eyes.

Xeliara turned her head toward the gathered nurses and flashed them a dazzlingly wicked smile. “Sisters, tell me… what do you think of this darling little body?”

The succubi’s low giggles and murmurs rose to laughter, like they were a pack of hyenas circling a wounded animal. They moved into the room, their vicious crimson eyes raking over Xeliara’s—Emily’s—body with nothing but gleeful malice.

“Oh, it’s precious,” one of them said condescendingly. “But I’ve seen boys with bigger chests.”

“It’s so scrawny,” another said. “There’s not a single soft curve anywhere. You’d have to squint to even tell she’s a girl.”

A third, dark-skinned one laughed aloud. “Look at her scars! They’re like little cracks in a broken doll. How fascinating.”

Emily’s body trembled uncontrollably. Her face burned, and her heart was pounding frantically to the point that it hurt.

Xeliara turned slowly in place, making sure Emily was watching as she ran her hands along her body, and she did it all with a soft smile. She cupped her breasts, feeling their weight and shape. “These are barely more than buds, hardly worth a man’s time, much less his attention. And these thighs, they’re like twigs. No meat on them at all.”

Emily glared at her. She was cherishing every flaw just to twist the knife deeper.

“It’s such a shame, isn’t it,” she said to the hoard. “So much potential wasted. A little girl trying so hard to be a warrior… when all anyone sees is a broken thing trying to pretend she’s strong.” Xeliara held up her hand and turned it over as she studied the hairline fractures that had spread from her palm to her elbow, almost like she was admiring them. Then, the skin rippled unnaturally, like a droplet of water had disturbed a calm lake, and the scars were gone, replaced with perfect, unblemished skin.

“Stop…” Emily whispered, her voice cracking.

Xeliara only smiled wider. “You wish you could do that, don’t you?” The words were as sharp as a knife sliding between Emily’s ribs.

“Please…” Emily croaked. Tears whelled in her eyes.

Xeliara turned her back on her. “No one, much less a boy, would look at this and feel anything but disgust.” She stared over her shoulder. “But we both know you’re not interested in getting a boy’s attention, right?”

Emily exhaled sharply as she watched the bones in Xeliara’s back snap and shift again, grotesquely popping as her skin stretched and molded like wet clay. She became something slightly taller, more graceful, her features sharp and perfect.

When Xeliara turned around, it was Lux’s face that stared back.

Emily’s vision blurred with tears she couldn’t fight back anymore. They burned down the sides of her cheeks as she unwittingly looked over the flawless elven body. “Stop it…” Emily sobbed. “Please…”

“But is this not what you desire?” Xeliara said. “A body like your friend’s? One that isn’t so… broken?” She ran her hands down her now-smooth, elegant sides. “So smooth and so soft. Not bumpy and rough like yours. Supple breasts, hips ripe for childbearing.”

Emily tried closing her eyes, but something about Xeliara’s presence forced her to keep them open, like she had lost control of her eyelids.

“No wonder you feel so jealous of your friend’s body, I would too if I knew I could never achieve this, if I were to spend my life wasting away, rotting from the inside out.” Then, in a matter of moments, her body began to accelerate with age, but whereas Lux’s elven nature would stop it, it persisted. She grew taller, her hips wider, and her chest larger, until the skin began to sag and wrinkle like she had been soaking in water for far too long.

Emily sniffled and took in a breath, unable to hold it in anymore. The room felt like it was closing in, the walls pressing against her chest and squeezing the air from her lungs. It was like every ugly, secret part of her had been dragged into the open and put on display. There was nothing to hide, the burning shame of being picked apart piece by piece.

“Oh, how hideous this is,” Xeliara said as she looked down at herself. “I can’t imagine ever living like this.”

“Fuck you!” Emily screamed in her broken voice. “Bitch!”

Xeliara’s smile kept as she took several agonizingly slow steps toward her. With each one, a new part of her body reverted back to Emily’s, until she was mere inches from the girl’s wet face. “Oh, Emily. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your desires are perfectly natural.” She gently kissed Emily’s forehead in the way a loving mother would, but it still felt cold and hollow. “And soon, you won’t have to be ashamed anymore. We’ll help you accept it. All of it.”

Emily whipped her head forward and slammed into Xeliara’s.

A jolt of pain rattled through Emily’s skull. She cried out involuntarily as her forehead throbbed, but it was worth it.

Xeliara reeled back with a sharp, startled gasp, clutching her face. Her eyes were wide with shock. The other succubi flinched, instinctively taking a wary step from her. When Xeliara lowered her hands from her face, her smile was gone.

“You naughty little thing,” she said with a scoff.

The succubus rose, emanating a growl so far from human it rattled Emily’s bones. Xeliara’s skin rippled and tore open to reveal slick, writhing tendrils beneath. The bones in her arms snapped and reformed longer than before. Her fingers split apart like blooming flowers, black talons ripping through the flesh.

Emily could only stare at the monster as it grew larger and larger. She was frozen, utterly unable to look away for even a second as the sight of her own body flaying burned itself into her eyes.

Suddenly, she was gasping for air as Xeliara’s insensitively long fingers snapped around her neck and squeezed. The talons dug into the flesh, drawing thin trails of blood that leaked into the collar of Emily’s straitjacket. The succubus’s flesh was feverishly hot against Emily’s skin, leaving her feeling sick and dizzy as she struggled to breathe.

Xeliara’s jaw unhinged with a wet crack. Her lips peeled back, revealing rings of needle-like teeth dripping with saliva. Her throat was dark, and glistening and pulsing. Slime dripped onto Emily’s cheeks before sliding down her neck. A low, wet sucking sound came from the depths as Xeliara’s tongue curled possessively around Emily’s ear, tasting the salt of her tears. “Get a good look, little witch,” she crooned in Emily’s own voice. “You’ll look no better soon enough.” Her mouth opened wider and started to enclose around Emily’s head. Moist drool dribbled onto her face, and Emily’s nose was assaulted by the sweet smell of flowers.

Emily sobbed through her dying breaths, thrashing uselessly against her restraints. Her heart wasn’t in her chest anymore. It was beating in her throat, making it harder to breathe.

“Xeliara!” a voice boomed.

The succubus froze.

“That’s quite enough.”
Xeliara withdrew, and her body rippled and reknit itself back to what it had been when she first entered the chamber.

Emily choked for air and gasped rapidly as she tried to steady herself.

But she couldn’t. Her entire body was trembling under the weight of so many different emotions; she didn’t know what she was feeling.

It took all her strength, but she managed to peer up at the doorway, and all she saw was Draven.

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