In the city's dark underbelly, where the barrier between worlds thins, Elara waits—a succubus from an ancient bloodline. Her skin glows a deep, seductive red. Curved horns arch from her forehead, and leathery wings fold tightly against her back, concealed when she desires. Her amber, slitted eyes burn with constant insatiable hunger.

Elara does not feed on flesh or souls like lesser demons. She savours pride, drawing it from whatever her prey cherishes most. With women like her current target, that pride centres on their magnificent breasts—symbols of beauty, desire, and unshakeable confidence.

She first spots Amelia in a bustling downtown café. Amelia, in her mid-twenties, is a breathtaking busty blonde with long golden hair cascading over her shoulders, full lips, wide blue eyes, and delicate freckles dusting her nose. Her curvy figure boasts wide hips, but her breasts command every gaze—full, round, heavy orbs that strain deliciously against her clothes, their soft weight shifting with every breath.

Elara lingers invisibly as Amelia laughs with friends over coffee, her chest rising and falling, the subtle jiggle sending a ripple of heat through the succubus's core.

Over the following weeks, Elara shadows her relentlessly. Amelia works as a marketing assistant in a gleaming office tower, typing at her desk with her breasts pressing forward against the fabric, nipples occasionally visible through thinner blouses. From a nearby rooftop, Elara watches co-workers steal glances, especially her boss during meetings. Amelia chooses tight sweaters that hug her curves, and she clearly revels in the attention, blushing prettily at compliments, her body responding with a faint flush.

Nights offer even richer indulgence. Amelia frequents bars with friends or dances at clubs. One heated evening, she sways to throbbing music in a low-cut top, her breasts bouncing hypnotically, sweat glistening on the exposed swell of her cleavage. Elara's mouth waters, imagining their taste, the warmth, the yielding softness.

The most intoxicating moments come in private. Amelia shares an apartment with her boyfriend, Jake—an unremarkable man. Elara peers through windows as he caresses her on the couch, hands greedily squeezing her breasts, burying his face in their plush depths.

"God, I love these," he murmurs. Amelia moans softly, arching into him, pulling him closer, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Elara seethes with jealousy. She keeps her own chest deliberately small for blending among humans, but now it feels insignificant, aching with envy. She craves to steal that pride, to drain it until Amelia's breasts lose their glorious fullness.

Watching no longer satisfies. Elara needs intimacy, trust—the exquisite thrill of betrayal that succubi adores. So she assumes a human guise: Lila, with plain brown hair, glasses, loose clothing, and a deliberately flat chest. Nothing to threaten or arouse suspicion.

She engineers a "transfer" to Amelia's office. On her first day, she "accidentally" bumps into Amelia in the break room.

"Sorry! I'm Lila, just started today," she says, feigning shyness.

Amelia smiles. "I'm Amelia. Want a tour?"

Friendship blossoms quickly. They share lunches, grab coffees, and trade jokes about office life. Amelia confides in her—complains about Jake, shares travel dreams, admits she sometimes feels reduced to her chest.

"You're so much more than that," Lila reassures her. "But they're incredible. You should be proud."

Coffee runs grow charged with subtle eroticism: fingers brushing lingeringly as they pass cups, gazes holding too long, shared whispers about the boss's stares sending shivers through them both. Elara thrills in the closeness—inhaling Amelia's intoxicating perfume mingled with warm skin, "accidentally" grazing her arm and feeling the electric spark, the faint tremor of that hidden, tantalizing jiggle.

One afternoon, as they savour coffee and scones at their favourite shop, Elara cannot resist staring. Amelia's breasts look especially luscious today, framed perfectly by her blouse—perhaps the bra beneath lifts them into irresistible perfection. Elara's gaze lingers hungrily... and Amelia catches her. As she stares, a rush of heat floods between Elara's thighs, her black lace panties growing slick with arousal, the fabric clinging damply to her folds as her body betrays her growing need. She shifts subtly in her seat, feeling the wetness spread, a warm trickle that makes her clench in delicious frustration, her mind swirling with forbidden desires.

Amelia glances down at her ample chest, then back at "Lila," winking playfully. "I guess I can't hide the ladies much, huh? It's funny... normally I hate when people stare, but with you, I feel so at ease. It actually turns me on a little."

Elara blushes in her shy-girl act, giggling. "You caught me. Sorry... I wasn't trying to be disrespectful. But admit it—they're breathtaking."

Internally, she fantasizes wildly: imagining burying her face between those soft, heavy globes, inhaling their warm, feminine scent; picturing her tongue tracing slow circles around Amelia's hardening nipples, feeling them pebble under her touch; envisioning sucking gently at first, then more urgently, drawing out moans as she drains not just pride but every drop of pleasure from those perfect orbs. The thoughts make her pulse throb harder, her panties soaking further as she crosses her legs to hide the evidence.

Amelia laughs, deliberately shifting her arms to make her chest jiggle enticingly, the motion sending a pulse of arousal straight to Elara's core. "Thank you. Can't take all the credit, though—it's this new bra. It’s not a push-up; god, can you imagine if it was lol. It just gives these boobs the perfect lift, makes them feel so sensitive all day."

Elara seizes the moment, laughing. "It really does. Supermodels would kill for your secrets." She clears her throat, voice dropping lower. "So... can I ask? Want to hang out sometime? Somewhere private?"

Amelia's eyes sparkle with heat. "Absolutely. I've been hoping you'd say that. Come over after work this week? Stay for dinner? Consider it your office welcome."

Perfect. Elara-as-Lila will have Amelia all to herself.

A few days later, they ride the subway to Amelia's apartment. Elara steals heated glances—Amelia seems flushed with anticipation. Even through her blouse, her nipples stand erect, proud peaks begging for attention. Lace bra, Elara guesses, smiling wickedly to herself. If I had breasts like hers, she'd see how excited she's making me.

Elara's mind races with erotic visions: those nipples straining against lace, hardening further under her imagined touch; Amelia's breasts heaving with each subway jolt, the subtle bounce making Elara ache to cup them, to pinch those peaks until Amelia gasps; fantasizing about peeling away the blouse to reveal the full, round swells, sucking one nipple into her mouth while kneading the other, feeling the weight and warmth yield to her hunger.

The thoughts build an unbearable heat, and Elara feels her panties flood anew with arousal, the wetness seeping through the lace, making her thighs slick as she presses them together, biting back a soft moan.

Amelia opens the door to her place and says, “Welcome to my humble abode lol! And sorry about the mess; I’ll clean this up. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the couch, Lila?”

Elara settles in, pulse racing. As Amelia bends to pick up scattered items, her blouse gapes, offering teasing glimpses of lace-clad cleavage. Elara's panties grow even wetter in arousal, the fabric now thoroughly soaked, a persistent throb between her legs as she watches the curve of Amelia's breasts shift with the motion. Soon, my pet, soon…

Eventually, Amelia joins “Lila” on the couch and sighs in satisfaction. “That’s better! Well, what do you think? Shall I start dinner? Or shall we just cut to the chase and get better acquainted lol?” Amelia giggles, cheeks flushing. “God, what is wrong with me lately? I am not normally this forward, lol.”

Elara returns her giggle. “Maybe I just bring out the worst in you lol. And you in me.” She rises, positioning herself before Amelia, slowly stripping off her sweater and miniskirt to reveal a black lace bra and panties clinging to her lithe form. Arousal glistens visibly on the fabric between her thighs.

Amelia's eyes widen in delighted shock before she grins hungrily. "Wow, Lila—you have such a cute, sexy body. And that underwear... deliciously surprising. But… what happened to shy little Lila? At the office, you are so reserved and professional, but now you look like you’re ready to jump my bones.”

Amelia sniffs the air and smiles. “You must really want this; I can smell you through your undies lol. And it's a good thing they're dark, because otherwise I'd see a visible wet spot." She giggles at her own forwardness.

Elara pretends to grin sheepishly. "You caught me again, lol. I can't help it; your chest is incredible. You have no idea how close I was to a full-blown cum on the subway lol."

Elara's grin turns predatory. "And, my name isn't Lila. It's Elara." Her voice deepens, demeanour shifting to raw succubus allure—tail flicking into view, wings unfurling slightly. "And I'm not human. I'm a succubus."

Amelia’s grin evaporates to a look of wary concern, yet arousal lingers in her dilated pupils. Lila is Elara, and Elara is a succubus. Or is she? Amelia isn’t too familiar with succubus folklore, but she recalls that succubi go after men, not women. How can she even be sure that Lila… or Elara… or whoever she is is even telling the truth right now? Still, the heat between her legs pulses.

Going with this new information for now, Amelia breathes. “Alright, Elara. But why me? And was there ever anything real between us?”

Elara grins confidently, stepping closer, tail teasing along Amelia's thigh, sending sparks of pleasure. "I am Elara, succubus of the infernal realms. You've been my delicious plaything for weeks. 'Lila' was just a mask to earn your sweet trust. Humans are so adorably gullible."

Betrayal crashes over Amelia like ice water; tears prick her eyes. "You... pretended to be my friend? Why?" Her voice shakes, cracking on the last word.

Elara smirks, tail brushing higher, grazing sensitive skin. "To get close to you. To savour every heated glance, every brush of skin. From the moment I saw you... I craved intimate access."

Amelia swallows hard, thighs pressing together. "Intimate access? To what?"

Elara's gaze drops hungrily to Amelia's chest. "Those delicious bosoms of yours. Would you mind?"

Memories flood Amelia: Elara's lingering stares during coffee breaks, the adorable fascination. Flattering, arousing even now. Curiosity overrides fear. "What exactly do you want with them?"

Elara laughs throatily, the sound vibrating through Amelia's core like a caress. "You truly don't know? Darling, I'm drawn to your sexuality, your pride… your magnificent breasts. They are symbols of your vitality. And yours is one giant tractor beam. Or two, if you want to get technical, lol."

Amelia's expression shifts—fear melting into flattered heat, nipples hardening further—before fear creeps back. Yet the compliment sends a fresh gush of wetness between her legs. She groans. Despite the situation, she feels herself dripping into her underwear.

"Makes sense... I guess. Thanks?" She hesitates. "But what will you do? You won't drain me… will you?"

Elara cackles softly. “Well, that is the entire purpose for tonight—but only a taste. You won't die. You're far too delectable for that."

Amelia nods, her curiosity and lingering arousal winning. No escape anyway—and part of her aches to feel it.

Elara grins. “Alright then! Would you mind if I stripped you? The process is smoother when the other is half-naked lol.”

Amelia frowns but shakes her head no. Resistance feels futile—and the succubus's touch already ignites her skin.

Over the next minutes, Elara's fingers unbutton Amelia's blouse with deliberate slowness, grazing hardened nipples through fabric. She unzips the skirt, peeling it away, then eases Amelia forward to slide everything off. Backing up, Elara drinks in the sight: Amelia perches on the couch in an exquisite lace bra and panties, full round breasts spilling lushly over cups, intricate patterns teasing glimpses of pink nipples. Matching panties hug her hips, a dainty ribbon at the waistband, dampness darkening the crotch.

Amelia remains sitting on her couch and sheepishly grins. She then looks away, allowing Elara to fully inspect her half-naked body. And silently prays that Elara doesn’t draw attention to her wet panties.

Continuing down her body, Elara awes at Amelia’s matching undies. She loves how adorable and comfortable they look. Patience, my pet…

Elara's breath hitches. “Your lingerie is pure fantasy, pet. Better than my wildest dreams." She grins wickedly. "Gorgeous set. And your size, if I’m not mistaken, is 30GG, right?”

Amelia blushes deeply, sheepishly grinning. “Um… thanks, I guess. This is one of my favourite sets. And yes, that is my size.” She frowns. “But how do you know? And without even looking at the tag?”

Elara winks, tail teasing Amelia's inner thigh. “It’s my purpose to know. As a being who is lacking in that department, I observe and analyze boobs of all shapes and sizes.” She laughs to herself, “Not what you are expecting, right lol? A succubus who is lacking in sexual attributes? And envious of those who have what she doesn’t?”

Amelia nods, empathy mixing with arousal. That insecurity feels so human. Despite Elara being a succubus, the dissatisfaction over the size of her breasts is a feeling Amelia knows all too well. Maybe if I stall her, she’ll forget about demonstrating her powers. “And this is how you found me, right?”

Elara nods, “Exactly. I construct a wish list of sorts: my favourite ladies and their bra sizes. And I keep tabs on many girls for centuries… But then you entered my radar and stood out. Those perfect beauties calling to me. So I had to gain your trust at your office. But enough stalling… it’s time for a demonstration of my powers. Are you ready?”

Amelia sighs, nodding, body thrumming with anticipation and nerves. It might feel incredible. She feels another gush in her panties.

Elara straddles her, panties grinding wetly together, slick heat mingling through lace. Amelia gasps at the intimacy—another woman's arousal soaking into her own.

Almost as though she can read Amelia's mind, Elara smirks as she feels Amelia's soaked underwear against her own. The both of them are clearly horny for each other, and the fireworks haven't even started yet.

Amelia is not used to being this close to another girl and awkwardly waits while Elara gets comfortable. Wait… that feels weird. Is that my wetness seeping through my panties… or Elara’s? It’s probably both.

Elara adjusts until their bra-clad breasts press firmly together, soft fullness yielding erotically. The contact triggers instant ecstasy: Amelia climaxes hard, moaning and writhing through wave after gushing wave, juices flooding her panties. Thank god I’m wearing underwear, or these couch cushions would also need a wash. Amelia thinks to herself.

Then comes the strange sensation in her breasts. Amelia feels it—a draining pull, like her very femininity is being siphoned away. Her breasts tingle, then ache, growing sensitive to the point of pain. Memories flash: Jake's worship, envious stares, her own confidence. Her breasts lighten subtly yet unmistakably, bra loosening, essence vacuums out.

Amelia looks down at her panties, and gasps. There’s no mistaking the intensity of her orgasm, but it still surprises her how soaking wet her underwear has become.

Elara climaxes with a throaty cry, pulling back with a sly, satisfied grin. "How’s that, my pet? As intense for you as for me? Thanks, by the way.”

Amelia shoves her off in panic, breathless—far more winded than she should be. What is going on? Pushing away a smaller girl shouldn’t strain Amelia this much… But then she remembers. Elara isn’t a normal girl at all; she’s a demon.

Between breaths, Amelia asks her. “What the hell… did you do… to me? And why do… my boobs… feel deflated?” She gasps. “And why did you… thank me?”

Elara giggles and stands triumphantly in front of Amelia. Her once tiny chest is now bubbling over the tops of her bra cups. She puts her hands on her hips and says. “I’ll tell you in layman’s terms. I drained you… not just your life force, but your breasts as well. But hey, at least you got some killer orgasms out of it lol.”

Amelia just sits there, mouth wide open at Elara. She doesn’t have a clue how to respond. She isn't one to knock orgasms, and these made her feel things she hadn't felt before. This is on an entirely different level, though.

Elara shrugs her shoulders and laughs. “You agreed to a demonstration of my powers, right? Oh, and since you asked why I thanked you… Your breasts have gone to a better place.” And with that, she gestures with a hand over her formerly tiny chest, implying the transfer of essence.

She then licks her lips and continues. “Mmm, exquisite. So full of life, of that delicious ego. You've paraded these around, haven't you? Teasing men, women... me lol."

Amelia feels a rush of panic. She closes her eyes as she rubs her temples. That is all so much! Why did I agree to let her show her powers on me? Now I have less life left in me… and less… She looks at Elara and asks. “Hang on… why are you able to drain my breasts? I thought succubi could only drain life force.”

Elara gives her a grin. “You’re right… Or at least you were. But do you remember reading about a fellow named Sigmund Freud in school? And his theory about women having penis envy?” Amelia gives an apprehensive nod. “Well, he was wrong. It’s actually breast envy. And that manifested and mutated into an ability that lives in myself and other lesbian succubi.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Who knew?”

Amelia stares at Elara, her mind reeling from the revelation. The room feels heavier now, the air thick with the lingering scent of arousal and something darker—something infernal. Amelia glances down: her lace bra gapes slightly now, breasts subtly smaller—a cup or more reduced—yet still full, nipples straining. The lost weight, bounce... unmistakable. It’s as if a part of her has been hollowed out.

She glances down at herself, still perching on the couch in just her lace bra and panties. The cups that had once cradled her full 30GG breasts now gape slightly at the tops, the fabric no longer straining against her curves. They aren't flat—far from it—but the subtle deflation is undeniable. Her nipples, still hard from the forced orgasms, poke against the lace. But the weight of her breasts, the bounce... less now.

"B-breast envy?" Amelia echoes, her voice small and shaky. She crosses her arms over her chest instinctively, as if to shield what remains. "So... this is some kind of twisted cosmic joke? You steal what other women have because you're jealous?"

Elara's amber eyes gleam with amusement, her newly enhanced chest heaving as she laughs—that same throaty, echoing cackle that sent chills down Amelia's spine. The succubus' black lace bra now overflows with stolen fullness. Her breasts have swelled dramatically, pushing against the delicate fabric in a way that mirrored Amelia's former glory: round, perky, with a soft jiggle as she moves.

Elara cups her swollen breasts proudly, thumbs brushing over her own hardened nipples through the lace. "Jealous? Oh, darling, that's putting it mildly. Envy is the fire that fuels us. And you... your pride in these was like a beacon. Every sway, every glance you ignored from admirers—it all screamed, 'Look at me, worship me.' Delicious. Now, it's mine."

Amelia glares at Elara, anger mixing with reluctant heat. She invited this, in a way. She agreed to Elara showing her powers. But that doesn’t excuse Elara pretending to be her friend. Succubus or not, that is uncalled for. All Amelia is guilty of is being busty.

“So… what happens now? Am I doomed to be drained until I and my breasts are gone?” Amelia demands. “By the way… I hope you enjoy the backaches.” Despite the situation, she wants to get at least one dig in.

Elara gives Amelia a look before throwing her head back and cackling. “Oh, my sweet pet! While I appreciate your concern, we lesbian succubi never have to worry about such things. And we don’t even need to wear a bra, either, unlike you.” She teasingly flicks the straps of her bra, causing her breasts to jiggle.

Amelia glares daggers at Elara. But even though she wants to be angry at Elara, her body betrays her. Amelia feels her nipples tighten in her bra. And feels her pussy leak once again into her panties. Regardless of how angry or hurt she feels, she can’t deny being turned on by Elara’s breasts jiggling.

Seeing this, the succubus sneers. “And to answer your question, that all depends on you. If you want to push your luck, then it’ll be an all-you-can-eat buffet. But, as I told you before, you are much too fun to drain completely.” She gathers her clothes, her breasts jiggling enticingly.

Amelia sighs, resigning to her fate. “Alright… what do you want me to do?”

Elara pulls on her miniskirt and gives Amelia a sweet smile, almost resembling the shy Lila that Amelia had seen around the office. “Carry on as though this never happened. Our co-workers and boss don’t need to know what I really am. And it’s best if we continue meeting for coffee during break as well.”

Amelia frowns but reluctantly nods her head. What she’s saying makes sense; she has her cornered. If she says or does anything that might arouse suspicions about Elara, Elara will just take more from her. Besides, none of their co-workers are as busty as Amelia, so she has a less interest in them.

She glances at Elara as she pulls on her sweater, watching her adjust it, reminding her. “And how are we going to explain… this?” She nods at Elara’s chest and then her own.

Elara gives her an odd look before shaking her head and laughing. “What are you asking me for?! Get yourself some bras in your new size, my pet lol. And I’ll do the same.”

She adjusts her sweater over her fuller form, purring. Then, while smiling in self-satisfaction, Elara says. “Thank you again for your lovely donation.” With a wink at Amelia, she slips out the door.