"In folklore that stems from medieval legend, a succubus (plural succubi) is a demon who takes the form of a woman to seduce men in dreams to have sexual intercourse."
Gradually, Henry realized that marrying a Succubus had possibly not been his brightest idea. He also realized that the male Latin ending "-us" in the word "succubus" was wrong. Sally was female. All the way. Down to her evil ways.
"... and don't act as if you're listening, I can still read your thoughts, moron!"
And there she was again.
"No, honey, I didn't mean it! If you can read my mind, you know that!"
"Oh, I know exactly how you meant it." She stood in front of him, arms crossed, surrounded by millions of shards from their expensive dinnerware. The TV was still running - until Sally had come home, Henry had enjoyed his beer and the news - and one look from her angry eyes made it explode.
"Hey, what - stop it! That was a brand new TV set!"
"So what? You're gonna tell me you bring home the money, you get to take the decisions? I could earn more money than you ever imagined if I took up my old profession!"
"Now, Sally, we discussed this. I don't want you - uhm, working the streets again."
The moment he said it, he knew it was wrong.
"Oh, that's what I am to you? A former prostitute? Bastard!" The DVD player decided to melt on his shelf and left a puddle of stinking plastic and glowing wires. "You seem to forget how we met, stupid!"
Marrying her had definitely been a bad idea. He should have left it the way it had been - her invading his dreams, sexy and seductive, and him waking up in the morning on stained sheets, feeling strangely exhausted. Oh yes, he remembered.
"Oh, don't you dare let your thoughts take this way!" she shouted at him. "Besides, what have you done in bed those last few weeks, hu? You're a lousy lover anyway!"
"Hey, now that's not fair!" He felt his face grow warmer and knew his head probably took on the color of an infrared lamp. "You know how everything has gotten difficult at work, so many people being laid of and... I think I deserve a bit of understanding."
"So, you deserve understanding? And what about my needs? You obviously forget who I am!" She stomped her tiny feet. Then she started changing. "Well, if you're too tired for sex, I am too tired to look good for you." Her body started swelling up, and coarse hair grew from strange places. She looked at him triumphantly. "I guess I'll also be too tired for cooking tonight."
Her now huge body flopped down on the sofa, which broke in protest. She stretched out her pillar-like, hairy legs, put her feet - heavens, when had she developed these claws? - on the table and reactivated the TV with a gesture of her wart-covered hand. A telenovela came on. Now THAT was demonic stuff. "Go, I need to relax. And prepare the guest rooms, my mother will be joining us tomorrow."
He stood there, stared at his wife in horror and wondered if divorce might be the right thing to do. He also wondered if he might get his soul back.