Violet

"What the fuck was that! What even-"
Emmy shrieks, eyes full of tears.

"Macy! Macy!!" Alexia shouts, shaking the stunned girl by the shoulders.

"I- I didn't-" She mumbles, staring at the book, having just kicked it away as she stumbled to her feet.

"Macy. What does it say? What does it say about what happens next?" You demand, voice as cold as the fall air around you. It sounds to you as almost synthe-

You dig your manicured nails into your palm, and turn to scoop the book off the ground.

Alexia pivots, swatting it out of your hands. "Don't fucking touch that thing!"

You round on her. "How can we fix it if we don't know how it works! We need-"

"What we need, Violet, is to set that thing on fire and get the fuck out of here."

"M-maybe that would stop it. I-I still feel-"

All of you turn to look at her, even Macy seemingly having broken out of her trance.

"Y-you guys still feel it too, right? It's in my chest- I-"

A cold, synthetic ideal, drenched in lust and obedience and warped into madness. Yes, you feel it. It's sitting like a lead weight in your chest, quietly radiating its perverse influence out into your being. You don't feel changed yet, but that comfort may not last for very long.

"We are NOT burning it." You command, voice hard. There has to be some way to cancel it! Some ritual we missed."

You reach down to grab it again, and this time noone stops you.

"Maybe it's nothing. J-just a hallucination." Macy finally speaks. All of you round on her.

But it has to have been real. You can't have just group hallucinated all that broken fucking glass scattered across the floor. 

Any other conclusion would be illogical.

"Macy. You say, exasperated. It's real. We have to figure this out. I don't want to know what happens if we don't."

But Macy, eyes wide, just shakes her head and turns, sprinting down the stairs. 

"Macy. Macy! Fucking wait!" Alexia calls, running after her.

You start after them and then look down at the book. You can't afford to waste any time.

"What do we do, Violet?" Emilia asks, desperately.

You're already reading.

...

Alexia

"Macy! Macy!!" You call out after her as she rounds a bend in the trail. Trees loom over you in the dark, cradled in the dim light of the clouded over moon. A chill breeze pulls at your clothes, tugging at the lampshade hat attached to you via headband. Just the thought of it draws your attention to the hardening sensation deep in your chest, spreading out into your body in sickening pulses. You don't wanna think about it, so instead you compartmentalize it away,  and focus on Macy.

She's your friend, even if whatever the hell is happening is entirely her fault, so you grit your teeth and keep running, lungs straining against the cold.

"Macy, STOP!"

And you have to stop yourself from slamming into her, because she.. does?

The girl's frozen like a deer in the headlights, staring back at you, skin pale as a ghost. "I- What?"

You grab her by the shoulders and hold her still, even as you pant from exertion.

"Macy, please, you can't just run off like that. God..."

Macy shakes violently, her eyes widening. You shake her again. What the hell is happening to her?

"Macy. Please... Please calm down..."

Your words seem to reach her, her eyes snapping back to normal. She gasps.

"D-don't tell me what to do."

You struggle to keep control of your frustration. "Macy, the fuck! You just fucking cursed us all with some demonic-ass tome and *that's* what you have to say??"

She shakes her head vehemently, pale blond hair swishing. "No, no, I-" She starts to space out again. "I- You commanded me and I just- just stopped thinking and did it."

You stare at her, confused. She keeps talking, panicked.

"Alexia, my ideal. I wished I didn't have to be in charge anymore and my costume's a doll and I just did what you told me and I-"

You slap her. She stares at you, shocked, but considering everything that's going on you just can't find it in you to feel ashamed.

"Macy. You're panicking. Please, just stop worrying, and lets get back go the house. Running away won't solve anything."

She blinks, and then nods, suddenly entirely calm in a way that is extremely discomforting. "O-of course, I'm just panicking. I don't know what I was thinking. Let's get back to the others."

...

Emilia

"Okay but what happens if we can't fix it?"

Violet looks up from the book. "Emilia, what do you want me to say? I'm trying to make it so we never need to know." 

You turn around and resume pacing. You know she's right, but just sitting here helpless while she works is impossible. You have to find something to do otherwise you'll worry yourself to death.

"I-is there anything I can do to help?"

Violet looks up again, somewhat apologetically. "I'm already reading the book so... not really. Maybe clean up the broken glass?"

You nod, turning towards the staircase. "I'll see if I can find a broom."

The bottom of the stairs is quiet. Dark. Dust hangs in the air, illuminated by pale moonlight.

"Surely there's a broom here somewhere..." You mutter, heading down another set of rickety stairs.

Your phone's flashlight shines across the kitchen a minute or so later, and you think you spy a broom closet.

The floor creaks and groans beneath your slight weight, but you do make it across safely, and soon after you're the proud owner of an incredibly ancient broom.

Rough texture in your hands, silence ringing in your ears, you can't help but stare back across the near pitch dark room. There was an actual, not even joking, magical tome hidden here. The thought suddenly occurs to you that it may not be the only supernatural thing in this house. 

As if on queue, a floorboard squeaks a few feet to your left. You scream, phone flying out of your hands as you break into a sprint. Broom in hand, feet pounding against the aging wood even harder than your heart pounds against your ribcage, you round the corner, only then pausing to catch your breath and stare back into the darkened doorway.

To your immense relief, a large black rat scurries out of the shadows and into a small hole in the wall. It was just a rat! Whew.

"Get a hold of yourself, Emilia, it's just rats. If there were anything else down here people would have noticed students going missing years ago." You say to yourself.

Shit. Your phone's still in there.

You carefully lean the broom against the wall and creep back the way you came. The room is pitch dark. 

Did your phone break when it fell?

You creep further into the kitchen, straining your eyes against the darkness.

Senses deprived, it makes it all the easier to feel the strange sensation flowing out from your chest.

That.. feeling. Your Ideal. It's like it's sunk into you. It's influence, flowing throughout your body unimpeded. Changing you.

You recall the sensation as the ritual neared its end. How images of slutted up valley girls rocketed through your mind, pages from a magazine you'd never even read. Your costume had overlaid that message, blending i to something altogether horrific.

Wickedness. Lust and vanity. Mischievous cruelty. You don't care. You are a slave to your desires and live for tempting others into their own.

You shudder. If the ritual turns you into your ideal self, and your "ideal self" is whatever the heck that utter nightmare or a ritual shoved into you, then-

Nope, nope, not thinking about it. You don't want to deal about that right now. 

You... you don't want to care about it.

The thought pulses and echoes in your head, unwilling to leave. It's as if you've unwittingly stumbled upon some ancient primordial truth that gleams like a beacon in your mind, preventing you from thinking about anything else.

You try to scre-

You try to-

You can't-

You don't want to-

You don't want to care anymore.

Something clicks into place in your mind. Suddenly, you just don't care. At all. 

You look around. Why are you even bothering to search for your obviously broken phone anyway? Not like it ever did anything for you anyway.  Uugh. You totally don't want to go sweep glass.

You want to do whatever the fuck you want.

You realize, of course, that you're actively being modified. Corrupted against your will. It's just that you can't find it in you to care. It's as if the capacity to do so has been burned out of your very being. Oh well. Then the thought occurs to you. What do you want to do? 

The writhing shape in your chest spits out an answer or two. You should probably be concerned about some of what it says you want, but like who cares? You certainly don't.

Your left hand comes up under your top and slips beneath your bra. A sick thrill rushes through you at the sudden violation of norms.

You are a slave to your desires.

Fuuck, that's hot. You think. Your right hand crawls down, sliding below your black fabric skirt and pushing aside your panties.

Mental imagery of overly sexualized women blast through your mindscape and you nearly cum just from the mental stimulation, but you want more. Your fingers push into your slit and you start rubbing, gliding in circular motions across your clit.

The joint stimulation of each of your hands combined with the ongoing mental rewiring shoves you violently over the edge. You scream, and for once it's not one of terror.

"Fuuuck!!~"

...

Macy

"Alexia, I think we're lost."

You feel like deep down the idea should panic you, but Alexia's words still resonate in your soul.

"Please stop worrying-"

A warm glow fills your chest at the memory. Why does it feel so nice?

You live to please. Dolls do not think for themselves.

A bit of terror creeps through the glow. No-one's told you not to be terrified yet. Maybe you should ask-

"We're not lost. I think I see the trail." Alexia replies, and even though you can hear the worry in her voice the knowledge that you are not in fact lost roars through you in an almost transcendant wave. Alexia says you're not lost, meaning soon you'll get back to Violet and Emmy and they'll probably have already figured out the solution.

You nod, satisfied for now. The building shape in your chest thrums in agreement.

You should probably be worried about that.

"Hey, Alexia?"

"Yeah Macy? What is it?"

"What is yours saying?"

She stiffens. "My what?"

"You hear it, don't you? Mines.. Mines telling me to-"

Alexia's hands close around your chin. Her eyes are frustrated. She's annoyed at you. "Macy, listen to me."

You nod, swallowing. 

"I don't know what's going on, but please be quiet. Reminding ourselves of it isn't going to help."

You nod as another wave of obedient bliss courses through you, though you can't help but notice her brown eyes linger on your lips for a bit longer than is polite.

...

Violet

Chill air swirls through the attic, rolling over your long purple skirt and attempting to catch on the page you're currently rereading. Macy wasn't joking when she said that the author had terrible handwriting.

You pored over every word on the five pages pertaining to the Perfected Embodyment ritual, and there was nothing even remotely referencing a way to reverse it. With that potential method marked as nonviable, you've since spent every waking minute searching through the tome for anything that could be even remotely useful in resisting the curse.

The structure of the tome seems to just be an uncategorized list of spells, without even an addendum or an intro. Thus, if there is any way at all you'll figure out a way to save the four of you, it will be via another spell, or one of the many small notes scribbled in the margins.

To your great frustration, that spell has yet to materialize.

You turn another page, muttering beneath your breath. "Metadactic Confluence... No, useless... Spectral Herald..."

A muffled shriek rings up from somewhere below you. You look around, eyes widened in panic. 

"Emmy!?"

There is no reply. You look back down at the book. Do you dare risk trying to help her, when you could instead spend that time continuing your search?

You are efficient. You want to continue your task.

Anger rises in your gut, pushing back against the ethereal manipulation.

You realize it is the logical, efficient choice to stay, but humans are illogical and inefficient and right now you really want to remain as such. So fuck it.

You delicately fold a page as a bookmark, and then close it. With the book carefully pressed between your arm and your torso, you start your jog down the stairwell.

The moon slips behind some clouds, darkening the landing just as you reach it. There's no further noise.

"Emmy! Are you okay?" You shout into the darkness.

You hear a small surprised scuffle and then Emmy's voice echoes back up to you. "Y-yes, I'm fine! Just tripped over a rat!"

Relief floods through you, alongside annoyance that you paused your task to-

You clamp down hard on that thought process, and carefully hurry down the stairs to the ground floor landing. A dishevelled looking Emmy limps out of one of the shadowed archways holding a particularly pathetic looking broom.

She poses triumphantly. "Got the broom!"

You giggle, thankful for the levity, however brief. "Glad you're alright Emmy. Let's get back up there, I still need to find a solution and we'll probably need the area cleaned up for another ritual circle."

She nods, staring at you with a curious look, then follows.

The two of you march back up the stairs. "Ugh. I hope Macy and Alex are like, okay out there." Emmy mutters.

"I'm sure they're fine." You say confidently. "They're smart women. I just hope they get back soon."

"Give it good odds?" Emmy asks innocently.

"Mhm, success odds calculated at approximately 83%." You say without thinking, then freeze.

Nope, nope nope nope.

You start moving again, pretending nothing happened.

Emmy looks at you strangely. "You alright, Violet?"

You force a smile. "Yep! Or as alright as I can be, considering the circumstances. How are you feeling? Any weird compulsions?"

She looks down thoughtfully. "I've been told that I like girls a couple times, which is a bit uncomfortable, but nothing beyond that yet. Feeling optimistic." 

You exist to fuck girls. The thought resonates loudly in your head and suddenly you find yourself imagining Emmy kissing you. Her delicate fingers, sliding up beneath your skirt. The sensation of her manicured fingernails pressing into the small of your back-

You almost trip, blushing. Emmy smiles at you. "How about you? Any weird compulsions?"

You shake your head violently. "N-nope, feeling fine."

"Good to hear! If any one of us can fix this, it's you. Er, n-no pressure." She stutters cutely.

The awkward moment finally ends as the two of you crest the top of the stairs.

Emmy palms the broom and marches over cutely to the window. "Alright, I'll totally get all this swept up real fast and then I can help you scan the book."

You settle back down on the floor, resuming from your bookmark.

Within a minute Emmy's finished sweeping all the glass into the corner and sits down next to you. You move the book in between you as she snuggles closer.

"Brrr. Cold in here, huh." She says, pressing against you. She pulls one arm out of the purple winter coat you gave to her. "Wanna get under the jacket with me? It is yours after all."

You hesitate, but it really is getting frigid up here with the windows smashed, so you hesitantly accede to her request. The coat, warm with her body heat, closes loosely around your shoulders. The warm skin of her arm presses into your long sleeved shirt. You blush violently, and struggle to focus on the book. Emmy doesn't seem to notice, laying her head on your shoulder.

"Ravener's Sledge? Who names this garbage? And why is it located before Grasp of Avarice? What's the organizational structure here?"

You giggle, then sigh. "Yeah, I'm starting to think this guy was a bit of an amateur. You'd think an enterprising occult ritualist would, I don't know, keep their book even little organized. If there is any kind of sorting system going on here I don't see it." 

You turn the page, and your eyes widen. 

"Renathor's Removal..." You mutter curiously, eyes running over the half of a page devoted to the spell.

"A simple unbinding ritual, intended for blunt removal of curses, virulent concepts, and related magical phenomena via the removal of the unwanted concepts." You read out loud, eyes roaming desperately over the ritual diagrams.

Candles, chalk, fueled by one's internal magic reservoir, (which you apparently have, based on the previous ritual) to be performed in a dark room at midnight. Affects all incanted targets within a twenty foot radius of the circle's centre.

All perfectly doable.

"Emmy, I think this is it!" You all but shout.

You hand the book to her, and she reads it excitedly, then turns to you, stunned. Then she blinks, and beams at you. "Violet, you fucking did it!" 

And then her hands close around your face, and her surprisingly plump lips press against your own.

Bliss drowns your surprise as she pulls you tight, book falling from her lap and hitting the floor.

You exist to please those around you. Proceed.

N-no, this isn't righ-

You exist to fuck girls. Proceed.

No- You won't-

Her tongue exits her lips and pushes between yours. Her right hand glides delicately down your flank, brushing against your hip. An electric thrill courses through you, disrupting your focus.

Process new directive. Proceed.

Pr- Proces-

Her hand reaches your skirt, fingernails digging into you delicately as they slip beneath it. Unbidden, your hands come up to hold her head. Her skin blazes with warmth. Your arms tremble as your mind desperately tries to find an escape.

Process- W-won't- N-no-

Then her finger expertly brushes over your clit, her long nails somehow only causing further pleasure instead of pain as they enter you. All remaining resistance crumbles.

Processing new priority directive: Hawt makeout sesh~ You think, unable to help yourself.

...

Alexia

You are a work of art. You exist to be appreciated. Lusted after. Hungered for.

You grimace, teeth clenched. No matter what you try, how you distract yourself, the thrumming resonance in your chest will. Not. *Shut up.*

Why should you ever shut up when you're better than everyone else? Ooohohohoho!

SHUT. UP. You think, struggling to drown out the laughter. Of all the fucking things to have seemingly imprinted on you, why did it have to be the tropey anime noblewoman hentai? Thankfully, the distant sight of the mansion through the treeline provides some small measure of relief.

"Oh thank God, there it is."

"I knew you could do it." Macy clings to your arm, her warmth somewhat fortifying in the October chill. You're somewhat concerned about her rapid fire changes in behavior since the ritual, but you're mentally occupied enough just trying to keep yourself from changing. If you try to worry any more for her, it might just be the end of you both.  That's what you're telling yourself anyway. Deep down you think it might just be cowardice, but thankfully that notion is much easier to repress than the Ideal is.

The two of you hurry through the brittle October underbrush, emerging disheveled, but unharmed at the edge of the property. You look up, noting the quiet glow of a flashlight or two emanating from shattered attic windows. 

"They're still up there, good."

The heavy front door creaks as you shut it behind you, and you shout up towards the attic. "We're back!"

No reply.

"They probably just can't hear us." You mutter. Macy nods, still clutching tightly at your arm.

You try again as you reach the top of the stairs, and this time you hear a tumbling, and a loud "Eeep!".  A moment later Emmy's voice, sounding strangely smug, calls down the stairs. "Hey, careful! You startled Violet!"

Relief fills you. "Glad to hear you were worried about us!" You shout sarcastically, and resume walking towards the attic stairwell.

You reach the attic a minute later, finding a blushing, disheveled Violet hurriedly drawing a chalk pattern on the floor, and Emmy looking over her shoulder.

What the hell were these two up to? Violet's always been furiously gay, but to your knowledge Emmy's as straight as an arrow. You frown suspiciously. "Did you two find a new spell?"

Violet nods as she draws on the floor. "A removal ritual, says it pulls out concepts and other magical phenomena attached to a person or group of people."

Hope ignites in your chest, though the suspicion remains. "What were you two just doing up here?"

"N-nothing." Violet says far to quickly. "W-we were uuh-"

"Helping each other resist!" Emmy finishes before she can reply. "Our Ideals have been very noisy. How are yours?"

"I- I don't wanna talk about it." You say, even as Macy happily bubbles "Alexia told me not to worry. It's been telling me to listen to whatever she says."

Your eyes widen even as Violet turns to stare at you with surprise. Emmy squints.

"Wa- Wait, it isn't like that- I didn't-"

"What else did she tell you to do Macy?" Emmy demands.

Macy perks up and unleashes one of the most gut-wrenching sentences you've heard today. "Uuh, she like told me to not worry and listen to her. Oh and also to be quiet!"

You stand there in shock, even as Emmy rushes over, staring at you all the while as if you're a danger. Violet's gaze has turned similarly hostile. Macy holds on to you, refusing to let go.

"Macy, please come with me. We're gonna keep you safe, okay?" Emmy's hands beckon invitingly to your companion.

And with that, her increasingly cold, clammy fingers release from your arm and she obediently follows Emmy over to the other side of the room.

Violet looks at Emmy, then back at you. "We still need some more candles."

Emmy nods, almost too eagerly. "I'll go search for them with Alexia. Two pairs of eyes and all that.

Violet gives her a look. "Be careful." So few words for such a damning implication.

"I- I wouldn't-"

She gives you a look, before whispering something to Macy and heading over to you. Her eyes turn hard again.

"We can't waste any time, come on Alexia." Emmy says as she walks past you, giving you a rather large amount of distance. Not knowing what else to do or how to prove your innocence, you follow.