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

{Melisa}

[Oh god.]

Melisa stared.

She stared for an eternity, her eyes threatening to burn a hole through Armia's skirt, if the damn thing beneath it didn't burst out first.

[Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,] she chanted internally, her face burning with a blush so intense she feared she might spontaneously combust.

A kaiju. A monster. An old cosmic deity rising from the depths, hidden beneath a pleated skirt. That's what that thing was if the size of the bulge was anything to go by.

[I... Armia...]

Melisa knew she shouldn't be too surprised.

The book she'd read had mentioned that 40% of darians were hermaphrodites. Isabella herself had been proof that just about anyone around Melisa could be in that category. But, she hadn't been mentally prepared to be put face-to-face with this reality again.

[I was not ready,] Melisa thought, her brain short-circuiting as she tried to process the sight before her. [Not at all.]

Armia, for her part, looked absolutely mortified.

Her face was flushed a deep, burnished bronze, and her orange eyes were wide with panic.

"I-It's not what it looks like!" she sputtered, her hands flying to cover her lap. "This doesn't mean anything, I swear! It was just a random response from my body, it has nothing to do with you or... or anything else!"

Melisa swallowed hard, trying to find her voice.

"It's... it's okay, Armia," she managed, her words coming out in a strangled squeak. Her voice was about 5 keys higher than normal. "I understand. These things happen sometimes. It's not a big deal."

But even as she said the words, the tension in the room was so thick she could practically taste it.

[How are we supposed to focus on our project now?] she wondered, her mind still reeling. [How can I even look her in the eye after this?]

As it turned out, neither of them could.

For the rest of the day, they stumbled through their work, their conversation stilted and awkward. Every accidental brush of their hands or meeting of their eyes sent a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing over them, until Melisa was sure she would drown in it.

By the time the sun began to set, they had accomplished next to nothing. Armia packed up her things in silence, her movements stiff and jerky.

As she stood to leave, she paused at the door, her back to Melisa.

"Can we just... forget this ever happened?" she asked. "Please, Melisa. Just wipe this moment from your memory."

Melisa nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

She knew she should say something reassuring, something to diffuse the tension and salvage their working relationship.

But, she was too busy fighting her eyes, which were trying their hardest to look back down and check if it was still there.

Eventually, she said:

"It's already forgotten."

Armia nodded curtly, then she fled like she'd just stolen something.

Melisa watched her go, sighing.

A while later, she was back in her room.

[What just happened?] she thought, sinking down onto her bed with a shaky exhale. [And why can't I stop thinking about it?]

She flopped back onto her mattress, throwing an arm over her eyes as if to block out the world.

Melisa groaned, rolling over and burying her face in her pillow.

[This is going to be a long, long semester.]

---

{Isabella}

After classes, Isabella went straight back home and reemerged back onto the streets in a black miniskirt and some heels.

She would have spent the day with Kimiko but she was "too busy" to fuck and "had to get things done" and yada, yada.

[Ugh, when I get back home I'm going to make her fill me up so much I puke cum! The nerve of this woman!]

So, now, Isabella was on the prowl, looking for someone to pass the time with.

Her tail swished with excitement as she made her way toward her favorite haunt:

The Rusty Knife

The club was nestled in one of the city's seedier districts, a place where the upper crust of society wouldn't dare to tread.

But for Isabella, that was part of its charm.

As she pushed open the heavy wooden door, a wave of pungent incense assaulted her senses.

The smoky air was thick with the scent of exotic herbs. Isabella took a deep breath, feeling her head start to spin pleasantly.

[Ah, fuuuuck, I needed this. Too much class, not enough Melisa, not enough Mom, not enough having my cock sucked. Felt like I was going to go insane for a second, there.]

The interior of The Rusty Knife was dimly lit, with flickering candles. No Spirit Crystals here. Too fancy.

In the corners, plush cushions and low couches provided intimate spaces for more private encounters.

The bar, a long stretch of polished mahogany, was crowded with many human patrons.

Isabella's entrance didn't go unnoticed.

As a kitsune, she was already an unusual sight in this part of town. But, that wasn't all. Isabella knew that wasn't all.

The way she walked, the lingering glances she gave people on purpose, the plunging neckline of her dress.

It all conveyed a simple message. One everyone around her seemed to be getting, thankfully.

Just to be sure, though, she swayed her hips as much as she could as she made her way to the bar, her tail curling around her once she made it.

Hungry eyes followed her every move, but Isabella was used to that.

Now, she scanned the crowd, looking for someone interesting to pass the time with.

That's when she spotted her. A human woman seated alone at the far end of the bar.

She was older, probably in her late forties, with striking blonde hair that fell in loose waves around her shoulders. But it was her eyes that caught Isabella's attention. They were a smoky, dark blue, filled with an intensity that instantly captured Isabella's heart.

Isabella preferred older women. She was down to make exceptions, sure, especially if her potential partner happened to be a nim with a name that began with an "M" and ended with an "a". But, yes, Isabella had a type.

Without hesitation, Isabella sauntered over, sliding onto the stool next to the woman.

"This seat taken?" she purred, her tail brushing 'accidentally' against the woman's leg.

The blonde turned, her eyes widening slightly as she took in Isabella's appearance.

She smiled a little as she shook her head.

"In that case, it is now," Isabella grinned before signaling the bartender for a drink. "I'm Isabella," she introduced herself, leaning in close. "And you are?"

"Velra," the woman replied, her eyes never leaving Isabella's. "I must say, it's not often I see a kitsune in this establishment."

Isabella shrugged, her ears twitching playfully.

"And yet, here I am now. I guess you should consider yourself lucky."

Velra chuckled, taking a sip of her drink.

"I guess I should. So, Isabella, what brings you to The Rusty Knife tonight? You just thirsty, or... did the gods manifest you just to make my evening better?"

The way the woman's eyes raked over Isabella's body left little doubt about her meaning.

This was exactly what she'd been hoping for.

[Thank the gods. I like flirting as much as the next girl, but that's not what I need right now.]

"Indeed they did," Isabella grinned. "Tell me, have you any suggestions for how I might make that happen?"

"I do, actually."

Without a word, she stood, taking Isabella's hand and leading her towards one of the secluded alcoves at the back of the club.

As soon as they were away from prying eyes, the lady pushed Isabella against a wall.

[Ah~] Isabella grinned. [Some fun.]

---

{Melisa}

The next day, Melisa sat in class, her mind a million miles away.

She couldn't stop replaying the events of yesterday in her head, the image of Armia's... excitement burned into her brain like a curse mark.

[A world of wieners,] she thought. [That's what this is. I've reincarnated into a world of magical, hermaphroditic wieners.]

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely noticed when Isabella plopped herself down on her lap, nuzzling into her neck with a contented purr.

"Mmm, you're so warm, Melisa~" the kitsune girl cooed, her fluffy tail tickling Melisa's cheek. "But you seem distracted today. What's on your mind?"

Melisa blinked, snapping out of her daze.

"Huh? Oh, uh... it's nothing, Isabella. I was just thinking about how I seem to have reincarnated into a world of wieners."

Isabella tilted her head, confusion written across her face.

"Wieners? What are those? Some kind of magical creature?"

Melisa shook her head.

"No, no, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Isabella pouted, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. But before she could press further, the professor called the class to attention and pried Isabella's eyes off Melisa.

Melisa tried to focus on the lecture, but her mind kept wandering back to Armia and the incident in her bedroom.

[I wonder if she's thinking about it too,] Melisa mused, sneaking a glance at the darian girl from the corner of her eye. [Probably. How could she not be?]

But Armia seemed to be purposefully avoiding Melisa's gaze, her eyes fixed firmly on the front of the classroom.

[I guess I can't blame her. If I were in her shoes, I'd be mortified too.]

The rest of the class dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. When the bell finally rang, Melisa practically leaped out of her seat, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

But just as she was about to make a beeline for the door, a familiar voice called out to her.

"M-Melisa? Can I... Can I talk to you for a second?"

Melisa turned to see Armia standing behind her, her golden scales glinting in the light. The darian girl looked uncomfortable, her tail twitching nervously behind her.

[Oh boy, here we go.]

"Sure, Armia," Melisa said, trying to keep her voice light and casual. "What's up?"

Armia took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for battle.

"I was just wondering if... if you wanted to keep practicing spellcrafting together. I know yesterday was... awkward, but I don't want it to affect our project."

She said the words haltingly, like each one was a struggle to get out. Melisa could practically feel the effort it took for Armia to meet her eyes, to push past the embarrassment and say all that.

[Well, she's trying. Can't say I don't respect that.]

"Alright," Melisa said, giving Armia a small, reassuring smile. "I think that's a great idea. We can't let one little... incident derail us, right?"

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Armia nodded, relief flashing across her face.

"Right. Thank you, Melisa. I appreciate your... understanding."

The words were stiff and formal, but Melisa could hear the gratitude beneath them.

"No problem," she said, shouldering her bag. "So, same time, same place today?"

Armia hesitated, then shook her head.

"Actually, I was thinking we could go to the library this time. There are some books there I think might be helpful for our project."

Melisa blinked, surprised by the suggestion.

[The library? That's... unexpected. But maybe a change of scenery is exactly what we need right now.]

"Sure, that works for me," she agreed.

"Alright, we'll... Head over there later, then."

And, Armia resumed her walk toward the next class, looking ever so slightly relieved.

---

{Javir}

Javir sat in the conference room, her brow furrowed as she listened to the headmistress speak. Around the table, the other professors wore similar expressions of unease.

Eliana stood at the head of the table, her posture rigid and her face grave.

"I've just received word from the king," she said, her voice tight with tension. "He wants us to accelerate the process of turning our students into knights. With the threat of war with Rhaya looming on the horizon, he feels we need to bolster our forces as quickly as possible.

And," she sighed, "with this being the most talented generation of students ever, as so many news outlets have been saying, he feels confident plucking a few of them early."

Javir exchanged a worried glance with Miria, her closest friend among the faculty. The other woman was clearly apprehensive, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"How much time is he giving us?" Javir asked, leaning forward in her seat. "Surely he understands that proper training takes years, not mere months."

Eliana sighed, rubbing her temple.

"He's demanding at least a handful of battle-ready knights within three months' time."

Javir blinked.

"I know it's not ideal," Eliana quickly added, "but we have little choice in the matter. The king's word is law. He wants a handful of knights? All we can do is choose who to give to him."

The professors shifted uneasily in their seats.

Javir was ready to punch someone.

"Three months?" Professor Thorn scoffed, shaking his head. One of the older members of the academy. "That's barely enough time to teach them which end of a sword they're supposed to hold."

"I agree," Miria chimed in, her voice tight with frustration. "I understand that they carry inherent advantages from being mages, but even then, magic alone doesn't make you a good warrior. We can't rush that kind of development."

Eliana held up a hand, silencing the protests.

"Like I said, I agree. I understand your concerns. I share them. But, given the rumors that this current batch of students is the strongest and most talented yet, they want at least a few of them. We can toss as many of the older ones at them as we want, but we'll have to give at least a handful of this semester's new entrants.

With that in mind, we must find a way to meet the king's demands, or risk losing the Academy's royal charter." She paused, her eyes sweeping over the gathered faculty. "So, I have a proposal. What if we were to organize a small tournament for the Prestige Class students? We could use it as an opportunity to assess their skills and identify those with the most potential.

The top performers would be declared knights, and given additional training to prepare them for the field of battle."

Javir frowned.

But as she looked around the room, she could see the other professors slowly nodding, resigned to the necessity of the plan.

[... It's not really our choice.] She sighed.

"I suppose it's the best we can do, given the circumstances," Professor Magdalena said, her voice heavy with resignation. "But I still don't like it. Many of these students still haven't even come of age. We're going to turn them into warriors in three months? Madness."

"I agree," Javir said, her voice firm. "But if we must do this, then let us at least ensure that the tournament is fair and unbiased. We cannot allow favoritism or politics to influence the selection of our knights. Choose people who are unworthy and we may very well be sending them to their deaths."

Eliana nodded, her expression somber.

"Of course. The judging will be impartial and based solely on merit. I will oversee the process myself to ensure its integrity."

That wasn't all, though.

Javir then added:

"I want to add a course to the Prestige Students' schedules."

"What course?" Eliana asked, confused.

"A dueling class," Javir stated. "I will teach it myself. Prepare them for the tournament, give them some general tips, and... hope I can ensure we won't be throwing their lives away by the time the three months are done."

Eliana considered it briefly.

"I'll allow it."

And, with that, the meeting was adjourned.@@novelbin@@

Javir lingered behind, her thoughts racing.

[A tournament to decide the fate of these students,] she mused, a bitter taste in her mouth. [What has the world come to, when we must resort to such measures?]