Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!

{Javir}

Javir's office looked like it had been ransacked.

Books were stacked in precarious towers across every surface, scrolls unfurled atop them like sleeping cats, and papers covered in her own neat handwriting were pinned to the walls.

The Memory Snare sat in its glass case at the center of her desk, innocent-looking despite the absolute chaos it had inspired.

"Here we are," Javir murmured, carefully extracting a fragile journal from beneath a stack of historical records. The binding was cracked with age, the pages yellow and brittle.

This wasn't just any journal. It had belonged to Miridian Hayle, chief archivist and, if Javir's research was correct, one of the mages who had probably helped create the Memory Snare.

She opened it slowly, wincing at the crackle of ancient pages. Javir skimmed the entries, searching for mentions of the artifact.

"Day 127 of the project," she read aloud. "The prototype responds well to psychic resonance spells. Lord Callum is pleased with our progress but insists on greater range. I have concerns about the ethical implications, which I have expressed to Lord Callum. He dismissed them as 'academic frivolity.'"

Javir turned the page, her finger tracing the lines as she searched.

"Day 143... Day 156... Ah, here."

"Day 178. First field test of the Memory Snare. Target subject: Nim courtesan in lower district. Agent Berik reports complete success—full access to subject's memories upon physical contact. Lord Callum has ordered immediate production of three additional units. I have requested my objections be noted in the official record."

Javir frowned.

Three additional units?

Where were the others?

She continued reading, flipping carefully through the journal until she reached entries dated after the official end of the Human Rebellion.

"Day 305. The Memory Snare program has been officially discontinued. The units have been collected for storage in the royal vault. Lord Callum is displeased, but the council was unanimous in their decision following the Darrow Incident."

The Darrow Incident? Javir had never heard of it. She flipped forward, searching for details, and found them several pages later.

"Personal reflection on the Darrow Incident," the entry began. "Agent Elias Darrow, after six months using the Memory Snare to gather intelligence on nim resistance cells, requested reassignment. When denied, he deserted his post and was later found living among the nim he had been assigned to monitor. When apprehended, Darrow claimed he 'understood them too well' to continue his mission. He was executed for treason yesterday."

"Under questioning before his execution, Darrow claimed extended use of the Memory Snare had given him 'profound insight' into nim experiences. He spoke of their suffering and humanity with disturbing empathy."

"Three other agents have since reported similar 'hesitations' in their duties. The council fears the Memory Snare may be creating sympathy for our opressors rather than providing tactical advantage. Lord Callum remains convinced of its value, but he has been overruled. All units are to be decommissioned and sealed."

Javir sat back, her mind racing. The Memory Snare hadn't been abandoned because it was ineffective, it hadn't been left at the academy collecting dust because it didn't work, but rather because it was too effective...

At cultivating empathy.

[Experiencing another's memories firsthand,] she thought, [makes it impossible to maintain the fiction that they're fundamentally different from you.]

She turned to the final pages of the journal, where the writing had become more hurried, less meticulous.

"Final entry. I have been summoned to oversee the sealing of the Memory Snare units. Lord Callum has requested one be preserved for 'historical documentation.' I suspect his motives are less academic. Nevertheless, I am bound by my oath. The primary unit will be stored in the academy archives, sealed with spells that should, if my calculations are correct, render it dormant for at least a century."

"I have left instructions with my successor to monitor for any signs of activation. I can only pray that when the seals eventually fail, as all magical seals must, the world will be a wiser one than ours—one where such weapons are no longer deemed necessary."

Javir closed the journal gently, her thoughts in turmoil. So the Memory Snare had been sealed away not because it was dangerous to its users, but because it endangered the official narrative about nim. Because it made humans see nim as people rather than enemies.

[And now Melisa, a nim, has found it,] Javir thought. [Well, there's a certain poetic justice there.]

She reached for a fresh sheet of parchment and began making notes, questions and theories.

If the Memory Snare had been designed to spy on nim, but ended up creating sympathy instead... what would happen when nim used it on humans? When nim saw human memories, human perspectives?

And if there were more units, where were they now?

---

{Jaylin}

Jaylin smoothed down her tunic for the fifth time, checking her reflection just outside Javir's house.

[Get it together, Folden,] she berated herself. [It's just dinner with your aunt and her friends. Same as usual.]

She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open before her knuckles made contact.

"There you are!" Javir beamed, ushering her inside. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten."

"Sorry," Jaylin mumbled. "I was finishing some research for our project."

This was, technically, not a lie. She had been doing research... researching the best excuses to accidentally brush against someone, the most natural ways to initiate physical contact.

She'd actually spent an embarrassing amount of time practicing "reaching for the salt at the same time" scenarios.

"Well, you're here now. Everyone's in the dining room already. Melisa's been complaining about being starved half to death."

"That tracks," Jaylin said, her lips quirking into a reluctant smile.

As they entered the dining room, Jaylin's eyes immediately sought out Margaret, who was arranging platters of food on the long wooden table. She wore a simple dress of deep green that complemented her silver hair, which hung loose around her shoulders instead of in its usual practical braid. The neckline dipped just low enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage that made Jaylin's mouth go dry.

[Stop staring, you creep,] Jaylin admonished herself, tearing her gaze away.

But it was very, very hard not to look.

"Jaylin!" Hazel spotted her first, bounding over with childish enthusiasm. "You're here! Mom made her special spiced potatoes and they're the best thing ever in the whole wide world!"

"Is that so?" Jaylin said, relieved to have somewhere safe to direct her attention. "Sounds delicious."

"It is! And guess what? I saw the queen yesterday! The actual queen!"

"Really?" Jaylin let Hazel pull her toward the table, chattering all the way about Her Majesty's "super pretty dress" and "sparkly crown thing."

Everyone settled around the table, with Jaylin somehow ending up directly across from Margaret, which was both perfect for her plan and absolute torture for her composure.

"Help yourself, dear," Margaret said, gesturing to the spread. "I know how you academy students eat. All brain and no nutrition."

"That's not true," Jaylin protested weakly. "We get... some nutrition."

Margaret raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Uh-huh. And when was the last time you ate a vegetable that wasn't potatoes?"

Jaylin opened her mouth, then closed it, unable to remember.

Margaret laughed, the sound warming Jaylin from the inside out like a shot of good whiskey.

"That's what I thought. Here, try some of these roasted carrots. I added honey and a bit of cinnamon."

As Margaret reached to serve her, Jaylin saw her opportunity. The perfect "accidental" touch she'd been rehearsing for days. She pretended to reach for her water glass at the same time, ensuring their fingers would brush against each other.

It worked.

The world tilted.

Heat. Sweat. The sharp scent of sex hanging heavy in the air.

Margaret was on all fours on the bed, her silver hair cascading down her back, her plump ass raised high as Melistair gripped her hips with bruising force. His cock, impressively thick, long, and purple, slammed into her with relentless power, each thrust making her massive tits swing violently beneath her.

"FUCK! YES! HARDER!" Margaret screamed, her back arching as Melistair complied, his balls slapping against her with wet, obscene sounds. "RUIN ME, BABY!"

"Take it, you hungry slut," Melistair growled, a tone Jaylin had never heard from the normally gentle man. He reached forward and tangled his fingers in Margaret's hair, yanking her head back sharply. "This what you need? This big nim cock splitting you open?"

"YES! GODS, YES!" Margaret's face was transformed by raw pleasure, eyes unfocused, mouth hanging open as she drooled slightly onto the sheets.

Melistair released her hair to deliver a stinging slap to her ass, leaving a perfect red handprint that made Margaret yelp and push back even more eagerly against him.

"Say it again," he commanded, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust.

"I'M—AH!—YOUR—FUCK!—DIRTY—GODS!—LITTLE—YES!—COCKSLUT!"

Melistair reached around to grope her swinging breasts roughly, pinching her nipples as he somehow increased his pace even further.

"DO IT!" Margaret begged, her voice breaking. "BREED ME, BABY! PUMP YOUR CUM IN ME UNTIL I'M OVERFLOWING!"

Melistair roared as he came, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside her. Margaret screamed, her entire body convulsing in a violent orgasm that had her collapsing face-first into the mattress, Melistair still buried to the hilt inside her.

"Fuck," he groaned, slowly pulling out, a thick river of cum immediately spilling from Margaret's well-used hole. "Look at that mess." He chuckled. "I think you need cleaning up."

Without hesitation, he flipped her over, spread her legs wide, and dove between them, his tongue lapping eagerly. Margaret writhed beneath him, her legs hooking over his shoulders to pull him deeper.

"That's it," she moaned, her hand guiding his head. "Eat that pussy. Taste how good we are together."

Reality snapped back into focus, and Jaylin found herself still reaching for her water glass, Margaret's fingers just brushing against hers. Only a second had passed, but Jaylin felt like she'd been punched in the gut.

Her core throbbed almost painfully. Her panties were soaked. Her face felt like it was on fire, and she couldn't seem to remember how to breathe properly.

"Jaylin?" Margaret was looking at her with concern. "Are you all right? You went red all of a sudden."

"I'm fine," Jaylin managed, her voice sounding strangled even to her own ears. "Just... remembered something I forgot to do. For the project."

"The project can wait until after dinner," Javir said firmly. "You need to eat."

"Right. Yes. Eating. Good idea."

She stared down at her plate, not seeing the food at all, her mind still filled with the image of Margaret being railed from behind, screaming like a banshee as Melistair pounded into her.

[Holy fucking shit,] Jaylin thought, squeezing her thighs together under the table and immediately regretting it as the pressure sent a jolt of pleasure through her already aching core.

"I need to use the bathroom," she announced suddenly, pushing back from the table. "Excuse me."

She fled before anyone could respond, practically running down the hallway to the small bathroom at the end of the corridor. Once inside, she locked the door and leaned against it, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she whispered, sliding down to sit on the cool tile floor.

Her hand moved between her legs almost of its own accord, pressing hard against the damp fabric of her pants. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.

[That was...] she thought weakly, as her fingers slipped beneath her waistband. [Holy shit, Margaret...]

But the memory was seared into her brain. Margaret's face contorted in ecstasy, her perfect tits bouncing, the filthy words spilling from her lips. Jaylin had never imagined refined, elegant Margaret could be such a wild, uninhibited creature in bed. It was like discovering a whole new side to her.

A side Jaylin desperately wanted to explore further.

Her fingers found her slick heat, and she had to stuff her other fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. She was already so close, wound tight from what she'd witnessed, that it took embarrassingly little time before she was trembling on the edge.

In her mind, it wasn't Melistair behind Margaret, but her. Her hands gripping those perfect hips, her thrusting into that wet heat, Margaret screaming her name instead...

Jaylin came hard, her body jerking as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She bit down on her knuckles, tasting blood, but it was worth it to keep from alerting the entire household to what she was doing.

As the aftershocks faded, reality came crashing back with merciless clarity.

She was sitting on the bathroom floor in her aunt's house, having just masturbated to a stolen memory of her aunt's married friend getting railed by her husband.

It was, admittedly, kind of fucked up.

And yet, as she cleaned herself up and stared at her flushed reflection in the mirror, all she could think was:

[I want more.] That thought terrified her more than anything else. [I'm screwed,] she thought, splashing cold water on her face. [Completely, utterly screwed.]