John Deere, Alice's neighbor from across the street and major hunting enthusiast, had heard the screams of the delivery boy and seen poor Alex get snagged into Michelle's house. He had also caught a glimpse of her devilish form. While she had been fucking, he had called the local priest, then got every last gun and round of ammunition he owned and sat out on his front porch, waiting.
Michelle barely even glanced at Alex's shriveled remains, lying only a few feet away from the ruins of the delivery man. She felt that all the power in the world would soon be hers; indeed, that much of it already was. She spread her now-formidable bat wings and, with a air-splitting lash of her pointed tail, crashed through the front door.
The spray of John Deere's shotgun caught the Michelle-thing full in the face, knocking her backwards into the house. She was not dead, of course, but it still hurt like Hell! And it didn't help that the shotgun was a two-round deal, and the second blast caught her exposed vagina.
Michelle howled in pain, horror and rage at the destruction of her succubbus-hood. It would grow back, but in all that time - three days! THREE DAYS without fucking ANYONE!!! She would die! She would burn up from all the heat inside her, and this fool was going to PAY for what he had done!
All this was not entirely lost on John, but he mostly stopped at figuring that she was real pissed at him now. Working with practiced precision and speed, he loaded two more rounds into the shotgun and, as the monster sat up inside Michelle's doorway, blasted off it's left breast. As the monster spun with the impact, John shot it's right foot, which flew out from under it and resulted in a horrible cacophony of crashing, clawing and unearthly howling.
The damage to her right foot was not severe, Michelle knew, but she could not bear what had been done to her breast. This, one of the most valuable parts of her - gone! And gone HARD, for unlike her other body parts, the breasts took a long time to regenerate! Damn that man, she was going to - the thought interrupted by several heavy, thought-scattering impacts on the top of her head, which had fallen facing the street.
Deere figured that, with the monster down and lying horizontal, he didn't have a large enough target for the shotgun anymore. Loading it just to be safe, he picked up his already-loaded rifle and shot a hole into the monster's enormous crown. It didn't splatter, and Deere knew that his prey wasn't dead yet, but the rifle reloaded much faster than the shotgun, and every time a slug impacted the monster seemed to fall to the ground anew.
Fragments of thought drifted through Michelle's head . . . she remembered dark impulses, and scarlet satisfaction . . . she remembered bat-wings . . . and fear . . . and a lake . . .
Now was the tricky part. Deere picked up his shotgun in his right hand, and his 12-gun in the other (the latter was more a tool of home protection than hunting). Taking cautious but long steps, Deere crossed the street and approached Michelle's house with its monster. As he did so, he kept up a steady stream of shots into the thing's head. The previous holes seemed, to his alarm, to be getting smaller, but one of the ivory horns was drooping now, and a horrible reek was emanating from the body. At about the eight bullet, Deere reached the creature and pocketed the gun, shouldering his shotgun instead.
The thought-scatterers had lessened in intensity somewhat, and Michelle was beginning to come back to herself . . . sort of. Two competing groups of thought fragments had emerged - those of her before her unfortunate woodland drink, and those of her as the succubus she now was. The succubus memories steadily won, but the human memories didn't give up without a fight, and it was only after (what seemed to be) a long and tiring struggle Michelle the succubus regained control.
Aiming for the neck, Deere blasted the demon at point-blank range - once, twice. The first shot severed about a fourth of the thing's neck; the second, entering in the tender, vulnerable exposed flesh, took about half of what remained. There were four shotgun shells in Deere's shirt pocket; he pulled two out and reloaded the gun. The fist finished severing the succubus's head, which was followed by severe seizures of the thing's whole body; the second, which Deere placed (with some difficulty, given the seizures) directly above where the succubus's heart should be, blew completely through the body and stopped the convulsions.
The succubus snarled in anticipation at what she would do to whoever the hell had messed up her day - and then the shadow of final darkness passed over her, and she ceased to be. As for Michelle, she was unfortunately dragged down with her succubus partner/possessor and suffered eternal damnation thereafter, oh woe, O Discordia.
John Deere waited to clean up the mess until he and the priest (who arrived a few minutes later) could tell the police what had happened.
Sometimes the good guys win. Sort of.