Haley

Something is wrong.

The last thing you remember was the party, getting blackout drunk within minutes of arrival because of Kyle's stupid drinking game. 

Now you're awake, lying atop a bed. You check over your self, and relief blunts the growing terror. Thankfully intact; fully dressed, and unharmed, but that relief continues to diminish as you look around the room.

Did Jason always have such a weird bedroom? You know his parents are wealthy eccentrics, but this seems rather much.

You climb off the top of the well-made bed, looking around. It's like you're in some kind of strange 1900s mansion. Everything is made of polished grey wood, burnished gold, or a strange black stone. Red banners depicting strange, runic symbols hang loosely from the walls. There are no windows. 

The only light in the chamber comes from a standing lamp, the thin, metal construct shaped suspiciously like a nude woman with a lampshade over her head. You blink, giving yourself a pinch.

You don't wake up. You do, however, instead become aware of a strange melody echoing up the stairs. It sounds somewhat like the shitty pop music that had been playing when you arrived, but twisted into some kind of antiquated ballroom music, the vocals now almost more moan than word, though maybe it just because of how muffled it is, thrumming up from below.

You hop onto your feet, finding nothing to put your sock-covered feet in besides a pair of ridiculously tall stiletto heels of a similar hue to your lost tennis shoes, currently sitting by the door.

Tentatively, you approach the door, grasping it's golden doorknob. It swings open silently, the ethereal, dreamlike music from below washing over you.

Wha-Where are you? 

The hallway is as ornate as the bedroom, if not even more so, with lines of feminine statues carved of that strange black stone lining the corridor as it runs towards a set of stairs. The blood red carpet beneath your feet is soft and plush, a welcome contrast to the beckoning stares of the statues.

You approach one of a woman bowed low in supplication, head looking upward as if someone were holding her by the chin. The ruby embedded in her forehead almost glows at your presence, and a strange pull wraps itself around you. You struggle to tear your eyes away as strange lights flicker in the gem's depths. Whispers drift into your mind, of pleasure, vanity, sin.

With great effort, you wrench yourself away, now eyeing the statues with caution and fear.

What is this place? Did someone dose you with lsd? It's the only explanation you can think of that doesn't involve getting isekai'd or something similarly stupid.

Step by step, you creep further down the halls, flinching from the occasional burst of giggles from behind a closed door, or the echo of haughty, womanly laughter rolling up the stairs.

The sibilant echoes batter against your mind, as if they were waves trying to pull you under their glittering surface.

You place your hands over your ears, though it hardly helps, so you hurry your pace instead. Finally you turn the stairs, and the sight that greets you is one out of a twisted fairy tale.

A great ballroom rolls out before you in every direction. A floor made of a mixture of that same shining black stone and deep golden inlay, walls covered in red banners and paintings of lurid sex scenes containing only women. More banners hang from the impossibly high ceiling, alongside an array of symmetrically placed, flower-like golden candelabras. Speaking of women, dozens of them dance before you, gliding across the stone as they spin and curtsy. Even more gather by the surrounding tables, embracing each other in passionate kisses or even more lurid acts besides. All of them are decked out in an unending variety of over the top, ostentatious dresses, and a few seem to have noticed you, turning to stare with wicked, hungering smiles.

A pair of women in green and yellow dresses saunter over eagerly. One has a strange, deep green lampshade over her head, blending with her dark skin, the other has billowing yellow dress and pale orange skin. Both wear hungry smirks, and grasp each others manicured hands tightly.

"Just now joining the party, are we Haley?" The paler one jabs playfully.

You just stare, words utterly stolen. The other one's lips quirk beneath her lampshade. "I think she's quite lost, Mayella.

You blink, the orange-skinned woman's facial features starting to ring a bell. 

"May?"

Both of them break into a chorus of resonant laughter that batters into your very being. You shudder in discomfort.

The paler one, Mayella finishes first. "Oh, good, so she's not entirely wasted."

She lets go of her partner's hand, a thin snake tongue flitting out from between her lips as she moves closer.

"I'd take care to pick your association sooner rather than later, or the choice may be taken from you, darling. If in a rather delicious fashion."

Her hands grasp your shoulders tightly.

"Good luck! I do so look forward to fucking you once you've been taken."

And with that she plants a charged kiss right on your lips, and drags you into the crowd with a surprising burst of strength.

You stumble sideways onto the dance floor, a pair of dancers splitting moments before they would collide with you and the leftmost one placing two of her four hands on your hip and shoulder as she pulls you into motion.

Her pale blue face lights up with glee. "Oh, a human! You must be a resilient one to last this long. Oh, I must make you mine! Ooohohohohohoho!!"

She bursts into laughter, one of her two free hands coming up to ineffectually cover her mouth.

The sound rips into you, wrapping around your mind like a boa constrictor but failing to pierce it.

"I don't- What is this place!?" You manage to shout over the noise.

Your question only makes her laugh harder, the sound constricting tighter. You feel like a stone, cracking beneath an immense weight pressing down on all sides. What happens when you shatter?

Then another dancer passes by you, ripping you out of her clutches to a surprised gasp and giving you a brief moment to recover from the psychological assault.

The new woman is tall, and not wearing anything at all besides the curvaceous steel chassis that roughly emulates a porn star's body if it was clad in elegant, angular armor. An enormous robotic snake tail curves into the air behind her, helping her maintain her balance. The giant visor she has where her face would be flickers into glowing orange text: "INITIATING DIGITIZATION. HOHOHOHOHO-". 

The latter half just continues scrolling as an orange glow comes over you, tickling at your skin while you struggle to pull yourself away. The two of you spin across the floor, dancers of all shapes and sizes brushing past you.

"Help! H-help me!" You yell, only for another woman to drive a foot into the leg of your captor. She staggers to the side, arms releasing you into the grasp of your erstwhile savior, a tall doll-like woman with cracked porcelain skin and glowing green eyes. Her voice resonates into your mind, some kind of telepathy.

You desired to be saved! She exclaims, her voice sibilant and girlish despite her imposing, spider-like stature. Now, let me save you for all eternity!

She pulls you tight as the two of you spin away into the crowd, your face forced against the hard porcelain of her moderately sized chest. Contained beneath a tight, skimpy amber dress, they press against you, cold and inhuman. Her white, porcelain doll eyes glow green, and you feel something being pulled out of you.

Your desire to figure out what's going on? Gone. Your desire to get out of her grasp? Fading. Your intense desire to escape in general? Fraying at the seams, the edges blurring.

Your desire to be human? She seems particularly interested in that one. You watch, helplessly, as it's spun from your mind and pulled towards the glow of her hungering eyes. 

And yet, before it's fully removed from you the robot from before grabs her from behind, yanking her away.

You stumble away, dizzy and mentally drained, only just managing to make it off the dance floor.

Several onlookers watch with mixtures of enjoyment and hunger as you stumble for the nearest door, gilded as all the rest. Peals of ostentatious laughter ring in your ears, your battered mind cracking further.

Your left arm twitches, trying to move up to cover your mouth.

As you catch yourself on a wooden table, a woman in a grey dress with a striking crimson lampshade smirks up at you. "Oh, like poor thing." She says, in the most obnoxious valley girl accent you've ever heard, long brown hair pouring out from within her lampshade.

"You should like, totally stay in me, I'll keep you like, so happy, babe. Ooohohohohoho~" The laugh, warped beyond recognition by her ridiculously thick accent, pulsates into you, rocking your psyche. You can barely take any more. Your will is slipping.

Her lampshade seems to vibrate, drawing your attention, but, trained on the statues from before, you're able to pull your eyes away, stumbling closer to the door. She doesn't pursue you.

The door opens as you approach, admitting a woman in the most ostentatious dress you've ever seen, currently bridal carrying another horned woman in her arms, who's wearing nothing but black lingerie and beaming cheek to cheek.

"Ladies! I'm pleased to announce, Mariela and I are purchasing each other!" She declares, voice full of pride and adoration. The surrounding women cheer raucously, breaking out into peals of laughter.

The noise washes over you, soaking into you, seeping between the cracks. You would dearly like to be purchased by such an adoring lover.

Oh-Oho-O-

Just as you're about to lift your hand, you see her, and shock dispels the compulsion.

Towards the wall, penned in at a long table by two demonic women on the left and another in a ruby red dress on the right, sits a curvaceous human woman, looking about as disheveled and terrified as you imagine you do right now.

You hurry over, trying as hard as you can to ignore all the laughter. She looks up in shock as you approach, drawing the attention of her captors.

"Why, Penelope, I think we found your match! Who would have thought humans could be so resilient. The Devil herself knows I folded the instant Vaestra's lips touched mine." Teases the woman in the skin-tight tan dress to the left, shortly before the shorter one sitting in her lap turns and kisses her.

The woman in the ruby red dress stands as you approach the other side of the 8 person dining table, dragging Penelope with her.

"We've been keeping an eye on her, if only to see how long she lasts without direct interference." The woman says in the most over the top noblewoman voice you could possibly imagine. "But truly you two deserve each other." She grins at you, showing her sharp teeth. "Good luck now, you'll need it! OOOOOHOHOHOHOHO!!"

She pushes her towards you as you round the end of the table, and you find yourself catching her against you as she stumbles forward. Her eyes, light blue, look up from a pale, freckled, somewhat angular face. Long brown hair falls down to her shoulders.

Then she starts, pulling out of your grasp and grabbing you by the hand.

"This way, the exit was this way!" She shouts, almost fervently. She breaks into a sprint, and you hurry after her, hands clasped tight in her grasp.

Room after room blurs by in your peripheral vision, noblewomen staring at you with enjoyment or breaking into bursts of laughter as you run, but your hope buoys you against it's weight and it doesn't further damage you.

A greenhouse room with horribly beautiful demonic plants growing on every surface. A room serving as some kind of strange auction house, with a lineup of women posing seductively on the stage before a small crowd of onlookers. A statuary corridor where all the "statues" are living women, posing vainly atop plinths as you hurry by. Sickening vanity radiates from them, soaking into you, and you have to force yourself to not stop and pose atop a plinth of your own.

Finally Penelope reaches an adjoining door, stopping and panting in exertion, waving you forward.

You hurry past her into the room, but then your heart sinks.

It's dead end. Symmetrical and as opulent as the rest of the demonic manse, the moderately sized stone room contains two small black marble busts set into the left and right walls, sitting atop small fountains that pour into a pool that wraps around the edge of the chamber. Steam rises from the water, some kind of antiquated public bath. The room is dimly lit from above, the chandelier a lurid replica cast in red glass of a lamp-headed woman in bondage gear dangling upside down from the ceiling on a series of iron chains.

"Penelope, this isn't-"

A haughty, sibilant laugh erupts behind you, filling your ears and slinking tight around your soul.

You turn around, dreading what you're about to see, and as expected, she's standing in the doorway. A cruel grin splits her face.

As you watch, her glamour melts away, revealing a black lace dress that's more of a one-piece lingerie set with an attached cape. A long, sinuous, scaled black tail curls languidly at her feet, even as they rise atop a pair of growing stiletto heels. Her voluminous red hair falls past her shoulders, contrasting her pallid white skin and the two enormous black horns arcing back behind her head.

"Syna was so certain there would be no humans left~" She husks. "But here you are, completely exposed, thinking I was your savior. It's delicious, really."

You back up slowly stopping as the hot steam begins to caress your back. Is there any way out? You look around the room for a weapon, and find nothing. Penelope turns to close the door behind her, and then slowly strolls closer, pushing you further back in fear.

Soon she's on top of you, her hand playfully cupping your chin even as her tail wraps around your waist. "Oh, don't feel too bad darling, I fell for the same thing myself. It's just good fun, you understand. Or you will, shortly~"

"I'd rather die." You say, voice grim.

She tuts. "Now that's no way to treat your savior. Down."

As she speaks, her eyes flare orange, and you feel yourself compelled to act on her demand. You slowly fall to your knees, muscles struggling to do anything but obey. Her tail coils further around you, tightening until you can barely breathe.

She parts the lower folds of her dress with an elegant touch, exposing her demonic womanhood in all it's glory.

"Be a good girl and bend forward now."

Her eyes harden when you don't comply.

"Now."

You bend in, the hellish warmth of her folds radiating across your face as your tongue unwillingly pushes out from between your lips. Her hands close lightly atop your head.

"That's a good slut. Now lick." Her folds part before your probing appendage, and you quickly discover she's already wet and ready. The taste of her juices roll across your tongue in a divine symphony of flavors, all indescribable.

She laughs haughtily at your attentions, the maddening verbiage coiling around your brain like her tail around your torso.

You struggle nonetheless, but it's increasingly futile. Her flavour cascades across your mind like a wave across a still pond, subtly altering everything in it's path. Your mind presents resistance, building a wall to withstand it, but the influence hits like a tidal wave, smashing it to pieces.

In the wake of it's passage, new thoughts begin to form.

Like, maybe this isn't so bad. You think as your tongue lengthens, slithering deeper into her folds.

Penelope moans, writhing in pleasure. "O-Ouh!! Ooouh~" Her hands grip tight around the two horns slowly pushing out of your skull. "Good girl." She husks. "Deeper."

Reality itself seems to obey her command, as your tongue simply accelerates its growth, surging yet further up her cunt. The mindwarping flavor of her womanhood multiplies in sync with your taste buds, drowning your mind in her essence.

Yet some deep part of you still offers resistance, shoving down the thoughts of obedience and surrender. This isn't right! You can't- You won't-

She laughs again,, the song wrapping invisibly around your limbs, your breasts, your hips.

You need to escape, but how!?

Your muscles struggle limply, unwilling to disobey their new mistress.

Your pussy aches with need, further distracting you.

You need to escape, you need to-

Your addled mind flails, searching for anything, anything at all to latch onto.

And to your surprise, it finds something. A distant pull, from somewhere above. Beckoning. Welcoming.

I accept! I- I accept!

You reach for it desperately, but you realize its pulling on more than just you. As your essence begins to flee, your Mistress startles.

"Where are you-" She gasps, mid-orgasm. 

Your soul falls upwards, your body burning into magical vapor.

Your Mistress falls with you, screaming as her body starts to disintegrate, the two of you spiralling upward as one into the dangling lamp.

"Stop! I command you to STO-" But the command never finishes, her mouth blurring and swirling upwards, shortly followed by the rest of her.

Your essence slithers into the gem on the chandelier's sternum, coiling around the statue alongside Penelope. The body of the chandelier becomes your own, but also hers. Sensation floods into you both.

You are made of red glass, decorated with gold, and are dangling upside down. Iron chains wrap tightly around you, further leather bindings tied tightly around your breasts and over your mouth. You have crystalline eyes but can't see past your lampshade.

Pressed together, the edges of your souls start to blur, her thoughts bleeding into your own and vice-versa.

You fool! What have you- She rages.

A deep sense of satisfactions roars out of your new, gilded breasts. What-

I don't- I'm not- L-Let me out of here you-  She starts to say.

A wave of magic roars into you from your titties, coursing over your souls and making tweaks and edits.

Then, struggling, her essence snuggles tightly against your own. Be a good girl and listen to me. She whispers. Do as I command. We must break free.

Do as I command. Your mind, already nearly broken, finally tips over the edge into total obedience. Pleasure resonates through your glass body at the surrender, blurring the line between Haley and Penelope.

Yes, Mistress Penelope~ You moan obediently.

A sensation of total submission courses through you, echoing into your crystalline titties and reverberating back out warped and twice as powerful. Your souls writhe, overlapping at the edges. 

Y-yes, Mistress P-penelope? She moans, confused.

You feel her soul struggle, attempting to reassert her dominance. Instead, the sensation boils over the increasingly frayed border between your two souls, soaking into your own even as it leaves hers. Your thoughts harden, almost crystallize with a desire to command, to punish.

All must serve Mistress Penelope, or be punished. 

I-I live to serve... Mistress?? She says, trance-like. N-no, wait, I-

Another pulse of influence explodes from your tits and rolls over you, drowning her thoughts. Your thoughts? Silence descends once more. You swing, gently, over the chamber. A thick, black onyx tail sprouts from above your prostrated ass, dangling down and unbalancing you. You feel the glass of your prison? Your body? -becoming increasingly flexible. You writhe, pleasurably. 

What does Mistress desire? You ask.

W-who is Mistress? She asks.

You about to reply that she is Mistress, but then the concept blurs. You.. are Mistress?

I am Mistress. You husk, confidently. I am Penelope.

Your certainty resonates into your tits at the assertion, and then explodes back out of them three times as powerful. Your thoughts harden, crystallize. 

You are Penelope. You exist to punish any who resist your commands. You writhe in your bindings, another arm growing out from beneath your right, a flexible crystal whip unfolding in place of a hand. 

But then who am I? Penelope asks.

You are... Penelope?

Another explosive peal of certainty booms out of your tits, finishing your sentence where it stands. 

No more words are needed. 

You writhe in your bindings as an orgasm courses through your crystal. Your head moves to the side with a grating noise as a second lampshade covered head grows from your shoulders.

Your souls vibrate in bliss, merging further.

We are Penelope.

Certainty resonates through your crystalline body, even as you writhe against the chains. The song of your own haughty, vain laughter sings through your mind. It wraps pleasurably around you, sculpting away any remaining imperfections. Bliss fills your crystal at its touch. Two unique sets of onyx horns rise from within your lampshades even as long, straight hair falls out below each, red and black respectively, and suddenly you find that your eyes can perceive their surroundings despite the lampshades utterly blocking your vision.

Your left head turns to kiss your right, but your ornate red and black lampshades block the movement. Instead, both of your tongues slither out, utilizing their great length to burrow in between each other's lips.

Your crystalline breasts pulse with a deep pleasure that radiates out into the rest of your tightly bound body as the trap construct seems to recognize that you are complete. Perfect, even.

The chains burst into purple flame, and you drop cleanly to the floor, landing atop your surprisingly sturdy stiletto heels. With two almost perfectly mirrored thoughts, a tight "dress" forms around you that's more-so just a few loose drapes of diaphanous silk, and a handful of tight garments that leave you looking like a stereotypical djinn, if a djinn was made of ruby hued glass and decorated with gold.

We should get back to the ball, Penelope. There are a lot of very bad girls in need of public punishment. You resonate audibly from your crystal. The vibration finishes and the frequency changes to something slightly different as Penelope replies in a husky tone. I agree, Penelope. The others are likely wondering what's taking us so long. We shouldn't keep our inferiors waiting.

With a thought, you form a whip in your left hand, and give it an experimental crack. Prideful joy bubbles up within you, the booming song ever present, wrapped tightly around your psyche. It is a natural process, in need of release after sufficient social stimulation, much like an orgasm is a release to influences more physical and mental.

Your tongues slither back into their respective mouths, even as a single hand comes up to ineffectually cover both of them.

OOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!

Pleasure roars through you at the release, triggering an accompanying orgasm that nearly brings the both of you to your knees.

But such submission is not for you. You rather imagine you'll be getting your fill of women on their knees in a more... dominant way tonight. The thought brings on another orgasm, neatly overlaying the first. As memories of your past selves grow increasingly irrelevant to your current existence, you can't help but grin. The future is bright indeed, and there's nothing to stop you.

...

Many miles away from the manor, through rolling hills and across a small forested mountain, a woman looks up from her half-constructed ritual circle. The cellar is quiet. Peaceful. All as it should be. 

And yet, something begins to fill her magically enhanced senses. 

It trickles into her mind like drops of syrup falling into a bowl of clear water. A sickening mixture of vanity and narcissism and unending desire and else besides. Someone has done something they really, really shouldn't have.

She hurries over to her phone, laying dark on a well polished wooden desk, and dials in a number, even as the crow on her shoulder caws in agitation. Whatever this is needs to be stamped out, and fast. A distant laughter joins the strange sensation in her mind, as if mocking her effort. But grasping hands find no purchase, simply sliding off her pristine mental wards.

With a quiet click, the call connects. Her voice is cool, straightforward. 

"Theresa, something's coming. We need to convene the Coven."

[THE END, FOR NOW]