Emilia

With a triumphant moan you tear your way out of the cocoon, the red energy falling at your side and burning into blackened dust.

Your eyes scan the room hungrily, noting the curious forms showcased by the remaining cocoons.

Oouuh~

Just in front of you, three cocoons of calcified crimson magic writhe quietly amid the rubble of the half collapsed attic. You rise gracefully, looking down appreciatively at your new high heels, grown of charred demonic chitin, and at your smooth, perfectly sculpted legs. Your poor costume hangs limply to your new form, largely ripped to shreds. You finish it off.

The air caresses your ruby-red skin, and your three meter long red-black, feather capped snake tail swishes through the air behind you excitedly and swooping low to bat debris out of the way, test its strength. You bring your left hand up to grasp a tit, your girls now standing proud and firm atop your chest, notably larger than they used to be. 

A lurid moan escapes your lips at the touch, your sensitivity having doubled, or tripled. Even the brush of the wind against your thigh feels nearly enough to shove you over the edge and into an orgasm.

Your hair, still as short as before but now so dark grey it's almost black, falls across your eyes and you brush it to the side. Your ram horns spiral proudly out of the sides of your skull, a display of your hellish nature.

You blink. Does this mean Hell is real, or have you simply created a demoness from scratch, one with nowhere to call home? A question for another time, you think. Though you quite enjoy the idea of being a simulacra based entirely on warped cultural precepts, right now is now time to ponder. Your friends, no, your sisters need you.

Languidly, you saunter on over to the nearest cocoon, writhing slowly at your feet. 

Violet.

A slash of your sharpened nails tears the bindings asunder, and you hold out a hand at your lover, reborn.

A lithe, metallic hand reaches up to meet you, and you pull her to her feet. A grin splits your face.

She straightens, her height advantage having grown even further, putting her at 7 ft tall to your own 5 and a half.

A shapely feminine deep purple and steel grey chest sits atop a thin waist and wide hips. Her tall, digitgrade legs end in metallic hooves with stilletto heels descending just behind them and a long lizard tail, nearly as long as your own sways gently behind her. Long, straight synthetic black hair falls from her head down past her shoulders, and twin horns arc from the sides of her skull, backwards and up in the shape of an unclosed halo. Glowing red runes are emblazoned along their length, and as you watch she sways her hips, one of her four arms brushing upwards across her face in an attractive pose.

The smooth, rounded black visor encompassing all of her face besides her shapely, deep purple lips lights up with a bitcrunched purple heart symbol.

Her lips curve into a hungry smile.

"Unit V10L3T, like totally online~" She husks in a slightly metallic voice.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." You say, and kiss her.

Or more accurately, she picks you up, her lower arms grasping you by the waist even as she struts over to the nearest wall and slams you into it.

You gasp as the kiss breaks, grin widening. "Oh, you want to play rough?"

Your hands grasp her perfectly sculpted demonic ass, even as your long tail fires upward like a missile into her robotic cunt. Scales brush against sensory plates, and she shudders violently, pulling you into another kiss even as she continues holding you against the wall. Her visor flickers, the heart growing and then shifting into a hellish runic icon.

Two hands holding you aloft, another bracing against the wall, her fourth hand glides towards your cunt, fingers closing as the hand reconfigures into a sex toy. She gently slides it between your folds, and then it starts to pulse, and vibrate in a series of staccato blasts.

Orgasms blow though you, each one leaving you more invigorated than the last. Within moments your body thrums with pent up energy, eager to pay her back.

Your tail not enough, your tongue joins in on the party, slithering between her lips and down her throat.

Your legs wrap tight around her waist, and your hands press against her chest, groping madly.

A dozen more orgasms radiate through you, your mind drowning in bliss. Thoughts beyond base instinct become difficult, then impossible. Pleasure builds and builds in your mind, whirling into a storm that soaks pleasure into everything it touches.

Then her abdomen opens, and two more small robotic arms lunge out to pinch your titties.

Mind shattering pleasure rockets across you, reducing any remaining thoughts to dust even as two more small limbs follow, capped in hand-like graspers, the reach out begin to massage your mammaries.  Your tits, hypersensitive as they are, begin to radiate constant, transcendant peals of pure bliss deep into your ruined soul, even as the previous two limbs continue sporadically pinching your nipples to generate unpredictable spikes of pleasure.

Finally, after somewhere between five minutes and five thousand years, the plasure abates, and she delicately deposits you on the floor, her limbs retracting even as she gives you a final kiss on the forehead and moves her mouth closer towards your ear. "You were right, this is the best gift I've ever recieved." She whispers, before returning to her full height.

Your mind slowly returns, even as she struts towards the two remaining cocoons.

Wow~ Is the first thing you think.

The second, is that you feel powerful, like each orgasm charged some invisible battery that's now all but overflowing with energy. Demons have magic, don't they? At least, that's what popular culture says, and you doubt the ritual particularly cared to say otherwise.

You raise a hand, willing a deep crimson flame into existence atop your palm. It flickers there warmly, harmless. At least  to you. You snicker.

You snap your hand, the magic soaking back into you, and rejoin V10L3T as she cuts open Macy's cocoon.

What emerges surprises you.

The poor thing had accidentally Idealized a state of total subservience, the utter removal of all free will.

So it gives you just a bit of a shock when she emerges, almost as tall as V10L3t, but lankier, pallid. Her porcelain surface is cracked and marred by sporadic searing red sigils. It's from these cracks that a baleful red-black mist seeps, turning the floor around her withered and barren, even as strange blackened flowers with glowing red petals spring from the dying wood.

A short, thin white tail capped with a spiked prong swishes callously behind her shapely ass, that two of her four hands are already groping mindlessly.

Long, straight, light blonde hair falls down her shoulders, and her face is static, a near featureless porcelain mask with just the suggestion of feminine cheekbones, black lips pressed together in disappointment beneath a clean white expanse. A crack runs from the side of her head towards a sizeable hole punched in where her left eye would be. Inside, a glowing red light swivels, taking in the room.

Ah, bliss. Her sibilant, serene voice resonates from her porcelain, flowing seamlessly into your mind and wrapping around all of your deepest, darkest desires.

You grin as their taste flows back into her and she shudders, the mist flowing thicker from cracks and doll joints alike.

Delectable. I will perform them as needed.

She lowers into a slight crouch atop her digitigrade legs, her feet a perfected porcelain sculpture of her previous pair, bar the stiletto heels holding them aloft from below, and the gleaming knife-like silver talons that grip into the floor from atop her porcelain toes.

She turns to face the final cocoon. 

As much as I wish to service your desires for conversation and more besides, I believe we still have someone awaiting release from her bondage.

"Fiine." You laugh. "But I'm not one to be kept waiting, Macy."

That is no longer my name. She says in that eerie voice of hers, though her next sentence is ever so slightly tinged with mirth. I never really liked it, even as a human. Call me.. Maella.

You smirk, rolling the name across your tongue like it's a fine wine. "Of course, Maella~"

Then you pause, just above your sister's cocoon. The end bells out, evidence of her aspect.

You tap your chin in thought. "I suppose 'Emmy' is a bit dull."

You turn back down to the final cocoon, its occupant largely still. "Let's see what she thinks, first."

Your talons slash down its length, the pulsating red magic going slack, disintegrating into glowing dust that itself turns to ash. Amidst that ash, your fourth sister rises like a pillar, her stature proud and dignified.

Flexible, polished onyx. Blazing red ruby. Gold, glinting in the light.

All of her flesh is gone, replaced by opulent inorganic materials. Her tits are torpedos, with golden filigree circling each areola. Twin ibex horns rise from within her fine, black and red silk lampshade, handwoven patterns of an all female orgy amidst a blazing hellish inferno rolling across it's surface. The members vary from human to demon to doll to gynoid machine and else besides, every woman finely detailed in a unique pose. You feel her tapestry thrum, hungry for occupants.

A flickering, orange light ignites beneath the lampshade, and her plump lips curl into a practiced smirk as you take in her features.

Her six lithe arms pose behind her, the lower two resting salaciously on her ass, the middle two cupping her titties, the top held aloft magnanimously. Her smooth, graceful motion solidifies until she is perfectly still. You take in her hips, shrouded drapes of diaphanous golden silk dangling from golden piercings bolted into her crystal. More hang from her shoulders, highlighting her divine, or perhaps infernal figure. Like the rest of you, her heels shove her ass up and out, forcing her to walk with a seductive sway that you quite appreciate. A long, thick, salamander-like tail sways gently behind her otherwise immobile figure.

You feel her crystal thrum with raw, sinful vanity. It grows as you all stare hungrily, and reaches a crescendo as you run your soft hands across her breasts, occasionally stopping to tap her crystal with your nails in irregular patterns. 

In what is perhaps an orgasm generated entirely from pure vanity, a pulse of the sensation explodes out of her into the room, soaking into each of you and settling into the environment.

The boards, blackened and flowered by Maella's spreading mist, twist further, turning dark red even as pornographic sculptures of women grow out of the walls, like prisoners trapped behind a solid silk veil.

In the center of the room, rises an enormous statue of a woman dancing, tits proudly exposed to the evening air. Comprised of blackened wood, wicked horns rise from her head, and her ruby third eye hungers for an occupant. 

The aura seeps into you, and you can't help but pose like a statue, even as you sense the others do the same. You stand there, chest thrust forward, stock still, a strange sensation flowing through you. 

I am an object. You think, allowing it to flow into you. I exist to be purchased.

You have been sculpted to be observed, appreciated. Used. Alexia's disembodied voice whispers in your ears. Doesn't it feel wonderful to serve your purpose? Her hand comes up to cover her mouth.  Ooohohohoho!

Already held beneath her power, the tropey noblewoman laugh pounds past your defenses and into your soul, each thrumming blast altering your inner and outer self alike to be just a little more like her.

"Oh-Oho-Ooohohohohoho!!" You laugh, unable to help yourself, hand lifting daintily up to cover your mouth. Behind you, the others stagger in surprise, and then rapidly fall before Alexia's unexpected power.

OOOOHOHOHHOOHOHOHO!!

Alexia's haughty voice pounds into you, resculpting you from within and without. Your breasts enlarge slightly, firming up into proper torpedos, even as you find yourself posing like a statue in an art gallery. Her continuing laugh washes over you, finding any 'imperfections' in your personality and scouring them out with prejudice, before finally fading, leaving a coiled knot of intense vanity deep within your soul.

Alexia unfreezes, smoothly flowing back into a more organic stature. Her lips purse inquisitively. 

Surely you can pose better than that, girls. Works of art you may be, but I think each of you yet need some time in the... oven.

Her lips remain pursed, even as her voice resonates out of her crystal and into your mind. You feel her lampshade beckoning, though you turn it down. She frowns, slightly bemused.

You laugh, lifting a hand to cover your mouth, deflecting from the awkward standoff. "Ooohohohoho! Truly wonderful, Alexia." You lift your eyebrow invitingly. "If you do still go by Alexia, in any case."

Why would I change an already perfect name? OOOHOHOHOHO!!

She lifts her hand daintily as her vain, matronly laughs echos anew in your skull, feeling out your thoughts and reshaping any she doesn't like. With each exposure, the laughter howling through your mindscape seems to solidify. As it wraps around the thought of a new name, Alexia's lips quirk into a grin, showing pearly white, sharpened porcelain teeth.

Might I suggest Emmaline? Mhm, or perhaps Esmis?

A thought forms in your head that you don't like either, and you mouth opens-

"I d-"

And then she laughs again, the constant explosive blasts of influence soaking into your mind and drowning your previous thought. She sculpts a new one for you.

"-ooOOOOHOHOHOHOOHOHO!! I do quite like Esmis." You laugh, covering your mouth. "A perfect name for a perfect no-" You start to say noblewoman instead of demon and catch yourself. Why is that higher priority? 

"Then it's like, totally settled. OOHOHOHOHOHOHO." V10L3T monotones from behind you, voice nonetheless sounding haughtier than before. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth.

The laughter echoes in your head, even louder than before despite the fact that Alexia's no longer actively resonating into you.

This isn't how it was supposed to be-  You were in charge, you-

You turn to Maella, some desperate shred of previous self searching for aid. The dolls eye, now glowing a regal purple, rolls upward into her skull as she holds up a hand. Her porcelain breasts, now perfectly sculpted torpedos, stand proud atop her chest.

OOOOOOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHO!!

You stagger and blink as her sibilant, and now haughty voice booms into you, erasing whatever it was you were just thinking about, pulsing through your mind and reshaping everything.

The laughter, now a permanent fixture of your thoughts, continues to echo through your mind, wrapping tightly around everything it touches and filling it with sickly, sinful vanity.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth. You feel it bubbling up inside you, impossible to repress.
 "OOOOOOOHOHOOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOOOHOHOOHOHOHOHO!!"

...

Maella

You laugh haughtily as the four of you strut down to the lower floor of the wrecked building.

Desires flow into you from all nearby, surging into you unbidden, as is your nature. Strangely, they all taste like-

-OOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! OOOOOOHOHOHOO-

You feel it wrap around you, cradling you in pure vanity that soaks into your porcelain and fills you with an intense desire to be seen. Of course they're all exclusively thinking about that, why wouldn't they be? They're obviously superior!

Finally the laughter begins to subside, as if satisfied with the purple mist now steaming out of you. The flowers in your wake, your emanating corruption, now seems to mimic Alexia's is almost every way. Every new plant looks like a busty blackened sculpture, with glowing purple rose flowers instead of heads.

Esmis pauses at the head of the group, a purple flame blossoming in her hands.

"So. Any of you up for an afterparty? It's only just past midnight so I'm certain they're still going~"

You can't help it, and obviously neither can the rest of you. Dainty hands come up to cover mouths. There is a brief moment of anticipatory silence.

"-OOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO-" 

"I believe I have a way for us to blend in~" Esmis continues a whole minute of laughter later, flame roaring down her arm and coating her form.

You watch as the hellish vanity magic resolves into a gorgeous, opulent silk dress. Halloween orange to compliment her skin, a suitably unholy cleavage window, and a wide longskirt that trails gently on the ground.

As you watch, the flame spreads from the still smoking outfit, turning her skin back to a pale human tone. Her previous brown hair falls around her eyes, perfectly parted. The purple in her eyes subsides, replaced by a warm brown even as her tail winds under the dress before vanishing into nothing.

The short noblewoman preens as the rest of you ravish her with your eyes.

She beckons suggestively. "So, who's next?"