Queen Of Paradox (Unedited)

Transition

Hot, steamy, breath left Lana's parted lips as she lay panting, her body burning up and her chest heaving against the plush bed that cushioned her. Soft moans crested, filling the room, and she writhed against the cool cotton sheets. Nothing could have prepared her for the excruciating pain she'd have to endure for the Transition. Growing up she'd heard story after story about what it was like. She was told it was the definition of being reborn. Leaving behind your human existence to become something extraordinary, something to be feared and desired. She'd always glamorized it despite the constant warnings. Her romantic heart dreaming of strength and greater beauty, of the chance to no longer dwell in her sister's shadow. But she knew now what a grave mistake that had been.

Pain, the likes of which she'd never known, raced through her and Lana released a scream. Her back arching high off the bed, every muscle in her body pulled tautly. To think this was how she'd spend her twenty-third birthday, the age of 'puberty' for any female that would become a succubus. Fresh beads of sweat formed on her skin as her body collapsed back against the bed. She barely caught her breath before she felt bone cracking again and swiftly rolled to her side. Bile violently climbed up her throat and she was helpless to do anything but watch through tear-filled eyes as she vomited all over the floor. Well, at least she knew why they said not to eat. A few more bones broke and she heaved again, wishing like hell it would all just end.

Everyone kept assuring her she would survive, unlike many others. How could she not? She was a part of the Falcon clan, one of the strongest clans to grace Paradox -A realm residing beneath Earth, and right above Hell- in the last seven hundred years. But as she lay curled up and barely grasping at lucidity, she really didn't think she would. Her heart clenched at the thought of disappointing everyone that was depending on her to not only survive but to thrive. Even if she managed to make it out of here alive, how did she know she wouldn't become a trofodóti? Stuck between the line of human and Daímonas, forever weak and hungry? The Ero̱tikós Daímonas was a hardened race that prized strength, courage, power, over things like loyalty or emotion. The weak were cast aside and the strong displayed in splendor. Weakness was heavily frowned upon and trofodóti's were rarely kept alive, either from their already fragile lifespan or because of neglect.

A whimper left her lips brought on from pain and fear. If that was her fate, it would be more merciful if death took her now. As the newest Succubi to her clan, it was her duty to participate in the Ero̱tikós Daímonas Tournament. It decided who became the next Ero̱tikós Daímonas Queen, at least for the next decade and then another Tournament was held and another Queen was selected. Her family hadn't been shy about expressing their desire to see her on the throne, what she wanted hadn't even been questioned much less factored in. It was already set. She would fight. Of course, she had to survive the transition first.

Hot pain lanced through her veins sending imaginary flames licking her skin. Sweat beaded all over her body and it was all she could do not to leap from the bed and find something, anything, to ease the heat. She would have, if not for her body being as weak as a newborn babe. She wanted to call out for help and beg whoever answered to either kill her or knock her out so she wouldn't have to suffer any longer. Sadly, that wasn't a possibility either. Like all Daímonas going through the change, she was brought to a secure facility brushing the outskirts of the capital. Rising high into the sky like a majestic chrome statue, it was guarded by a constant rotation of security that patrolled the perimeter. There was no getting in or out unless you were an approved visitor, picking someone up, or being escorted out by a member of the medical team running the facility. Any other contact than that was strictly forbidden. The transition was something that needed to be experienced alone, a test of strength to see if you were strong enough to survive on your own. If you couldn't, if you failed the transition...well the body was removed and prepared for burial soon after.

Her shoulder blades started a slow ache and then increased in intensity, forcing a harsh grunt from her dry lips. She managed to roll to her stomach as the pain escalated to a white-hot burn. It was the kind of pain that struck marrow and made a home there. She bowed in on herself and cried out, broken sob after sob breaking free. Two deep slits formed, spilling lines of red over her back. Black bat-like wings sprouted, fanning out before settling against her back. They felt small as they fluttered weakly against her sensitive skin, but she knew they would only grow larger over time. Tears streamed from her pale blue eyes and she flopped against the bed, exhausted. Her breathing coming out in short hurried pants. The pain receding slightly but a still an ever-present sensation.

* * *

Hours ticked by bringing with it constant painful changes. Her incisors had grown into fangs so sharp they had immediately pierced her lip. Claws grew and curved where short harmless nails previously resided, and her senses were amplified to an almost overwhelming degree. Her hearing was so sharp that Lana lay curled into a ball for the first few moments as every sound possible assaulted her. She could hear the screams and cries of the other Daimonas that resided in the facility going through the same painful process that gripped her slim frame. Make it stop, make it stop, make it STOP! She thought over and over again, hoping for relief. None came to her, instead, her suffering increased as her sense of smell increased, bringing with it the smell of blood, sweat and the sterile stench of chemical supplies. With a weak groan, Lana tucked her face into a pillow, trying desperately to block it all out. Why did she ever want this? And to think she had hated her human body. Hated how weak and fragile it was. How...unimpressive. Now, writhing in pain and feeling so alone, she would do almost anything to feel something familiar, something comforting.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there clutching at her head with her face buried in the pillow, but eventually the sounds, while still sharp, damped to a somewhat bearable volume and her nose no longer burned as harshly. She rolled over and immediately a pained gasp left her lips. Her skin felt like it was vibrating and every sensation felt like an invisible attack. Her warm breath against her skin burned and the cool sheets beneath her felt rough and abrasive. She could feel every drop of sweat that rolled over her nudity. Could feel them track down her neck, over the sharpness of her collarbone, down the valley of her breast or crest over her rosy nipples. She squirmed as they rolled down her flat abdomen and dripped down between her thighs. It was both sensual and torturous in its intensity. Even her hair, that stuck to her slick heated skin, felt overwhelming. What she wouldn't give for a reprieve, for a small break in the seemingly never-ending parade of torture.

Hours were starting to seem like days and days like months until finally, blessedly, the pain in her body receded, taking with it the fog of near insanity that had invaded her mind. When it vanished completely, she expelled a shaky breath, tears of relief springing to her eyes and splashing onto her cheeks. She'd done it. She had survived the transition. She was Succubi.