The Madame of Shadows rested on her couch, empty bowls of popcorn and orange chicken resting on the coffee table before her. A body horror film played on the television, and a contented sigh escaped from Cynthia.

        May approached her Mistress, holding onto her apron with some nervousness. "Is everything to your liking, Mistress?"

        Cynthia chewed on some of the sweet chicken, savoring its warmth and flavor. "Yes, although . . . I'm starting to feel like things could be better." She thoughtfully touched the metal spider resting between her breasts as she looked around her home.

        It was far too . . . unbecoming, for a Mistress of Darkness. Light practically streamed through the flimsy curtains of the room, there were far too many reminders of her egg past, and the beige walls and wooden floors were not to her tastes. She did not feel like her domain was worthy of having her as its Mistress [of Darkness].

        Cynthia closed her eyes, and began to harness her newfound powers. Her curtains were replaced with opaque red velvet ones, and all the natural light in her home dissipated. Her electric lights became dimmers, and plates holding skulls and candles started to appear on her counters.

        She then turned her attention to her old TV; it was practically a relic, an old 720p hand-me-down from 2006 that her parents had given her when she’d moved away from home. Cynthia took a deep breath, and the old plasma slowly blossomed into a 4K monstrosity. Despite the large screen, it almost didn’t look like a television; instead of having a slim black bezel, it appeared to be some kind of gothic centerpiece, unlike any piece of consumer electronics the Mistress had ever seen.

        May walked into the room with a bottle of wine and a clean glass. “Your renovations are wonderful, Mistress.”

        “I’m glad you think so. But I’m not done.”

        The brown wooden planks on the ground, which were maybe not even actually wood, began to turn into much more exquisite looking stained black wooden planks, covered by expensive crimson rugs. The walls changed from being their old beige tones, to a deep and sensual shade of crimson themselves, accented by black baseboards, the apartment bending to the Madame’s will.

        As Cynthia admired her “handiwork”, she began to hear a knocking at her door. After glancing at May, the maid walked to the door and opened it, allowing Derek to scamper inside.

        The Mistress studied her quarry, as he anxiously scratched behind one of his ears.

        “h-hi Mistress . . . i, was wondering if . . .”

        Cynthia smiled smugly and cruelly, as she watched the kitten, *her* kitten, practically wilting in front of her. “Yes? Is something bothering you?”

        “y-you put that c-cage on me last night in your car, while May was driving me home . . .”

        Cynthia took a sip of wine. “Well, I can’t have my kitten spraying everywhere, marking his territory like an unruly stray.”

        “nyaa~! b-but, i, Mistressss!”

        Cynthia gently patted her lap. “Come on, let *Mommy* take care of you. Please remove those pesky clothes of yours first.”

        Derek whined as he removed his clothes, revealing the pink cage underneath. "i, i, you're not . . . Mommy . . ."

        Cynthia raised an eyebrow, and pet one of her thighs again. The kitten obediently climbed onto her, and began to feel one of her hands start to scratch his ear.

        "You're such a precious little kitten aren't you? All needy and desperate for Mommy's attention."

        A whine escaped the catboy. "M-Mommy . . . my cage is sooo tight!"

        "It's ok, my precious baby. Your little cocklette is nice and snug, all tucked away and secure."

        Derek tried to grind against his owner's thigh and belly, but he found that surprisingly few sensations made their way through the hard plastic of the cage. Cynthia made a mock pitying face as the catboy whined and whimpered.

        "May, please bring me some milk. Also, a plug and some lube."

        Derek turned his head towards the saloon doors leading to the kitchen as May approached Cynthia with a bottle of milk, complete with a rubber nipple.

        "Is my kitten ready for his milk?"

        Derek tried to push himself away, but found he was much weaker and pliable than he previously had been, his body practically losing all strength under the gentle scratching of Cynthia's hand.

        "n-nooo! it's . . . too humiliating . . ."

        "Why? You're just a little kitten."

        Derek felt the nipple enter between his lips, and he started to pathetically suckle the warm milk, as his Mistress began to scratch the base of his neck. A purr escaped him involuntarily, momentarily rousing him before he found himself relaxing again.

        "There you go, that's a good kitten. Mommy loves her special little kitty princess."

        Derek began to feel himself sinking into Cynthia's soft belly and full breasts, his breathing slowing as he began to feel a nap overcoming him.

        "Good kitty. Mommy's special kitten."

        Derek mumbled as Cynthia removed the nipple from between his lips. "i'm . . . not a princess . . ."

        Cynthia grinned. "Hmmm . . . maybe not yet. But, in due time, you will be." She grabbed the lube off of the tray May had left for her, and a happy sigh escaped her.

        The catboy’s eyes practically popped out of his head when he began to feel Cynthia’s index finger entering his asshole, slowly but insistently.

        “M, Mommy?”

        “It’s ok, just relax. Mommy is trying to help you.”

        Derek felt a finger start to rub against his prostate . . . he’d never felt anything quite like that before. He purred as Cynthia removed her index finger, before inserting it again with her middle finger.

        “Good kitten. So obedient for Mommy.”

        Derek felt his Mistress begin to scratch the base of his neck with her free hand as she continued to stimulate him. The fingers began to pull out, leaving him feeling slightly empty. He could hear more lube being removed from the bottle.

        Then, he began to feel something metal entering him. It was a buttplug, with a long black tail attached to it, matching his fur. Not to mention, the actual tail that he already had. Derek whined a little at how cold and unyielding the metal was.

        “It’s ok. Mommy’s going nice and slow and gentle.”

        After a tense moment, the plug went past its widest point and began to rest comfortably within the catboy. Cynthia grabbed a napkin and removed the lube resting around Derek’s hole, not wanting it to get onto her dress.

        The Mistress cooed so sweetly and cruelly to her kitten. “You’re *such* a good kitten, aren’t you? So precious and obedient. Take a nap on your Mommy.”

        Cynthia felt her appetite raising again. She thought about asking May for popcorn, but she realized that she had a better idea. She turned her attention to an empty space in a corner of her apartment, and crimson energy began to shine. Gradually, a large popcorn machine, with black and red stripes, began to materialize.

        The Madame of Shadows then realized that she *did* actually need May.

        “May, please bring me some popcorn from the new machine. I can’t disturb my kitten.”

_____

 

Sintrae stood nervously outside of Cynthia's door. Ever since the Halloween party, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. She realized that she'd, perhaps, even had feelings for Cynthia before her egg had hatched.

        Cyn had been awkward, but kind. Thoughtful. She seemed like a completely different person now, but Sintrae could still sense a certain level of continuity within her. The way she had portrayed her Madame of Shadow character had been quite consistent, even if she’d found a new love of food.

        Regardless, it felt like most of the changes had been improvements, as they often were.

        With a certain amount of hesitation, Sintrae knocked on the door, and took a deep breath. After hearing some creaking sounds, Cynthia opened the door.

        "Hello Sintrae; it's good to see you here. Would you like to join me inside?"

        Sintrae nodded wordlessly and began to enter, a little too flustered by the sight of Cynthia’s breasts to speak immediately. “Yes, Yes! I’d love to come in.” She managed to squeeze between the doorframe and her host, who barely moved out of the way.

        Cynthia’s weight seemed to have mostly stabilized since the last time Sintrae had seen her. Which is to say, she was still massive, and exactly *how* she’d managed to gain so much weight within the space of a month was still something Sintrae couldn’t understand. After the guest finished entering the apartment, she watched as Cynthia began to waddle towards her couch, and found herself staring at her ass as it swayed and moved with each of her footsteps, the sound of her thighs brushing together faintly sounding in the quiet apartment.

        “Let me just get rid of this”, Cynthia said casually, removing her spider necklace. She placed it on a shelf before eventually resting on her couch, taking a moment to make sure that Sintrae understood what she had done. “So, what brings you here? I’m sure you don’t just want to talk about goblins and ghouls.”

        Sintrae sat on the couch next to Sintrae. “Well, I . . . I’m very happy to see that you’ve transitioned. You seem so much more comfortable and self assured now than you used to.”

        Cynthia smiled, and stroked some of the hair resting on one of her breasts. “Well, I’m sure it was good to see me finally move past my old life and discover who I *really* am, but . . . I think something else brought you here.” May entered the room and placed a platter on the coffee table, holding a dozen sliders, each one drenched in juicy meat and cheese. Cynthia picked one of them up and grinned. “Thank you darling.”

        Sintrae watched as the Mistress began to delicately work her way through the delicacy. Cynthia let out a low moan as she savored the warm meat, squeezing her full arms against the sides of her breasts slightly as she did so. She swallowed the mouthful, and continued to speak.

        “I don't doubt the sincerity of you wanting to congratulate my changes, but . . . I think you’re interested in the fruits of my metamorphosis, yes?”

        Sintrae could feel her cock growing hard in her black jeans. “You’ve really had a glow up.”

        “You couldn’t peel your eyes off of me at the Halloween party; you were so busy trying to stare discreetly at my breasts you could barely explain your witch comic to me. At our last session, I could tell you were using *all* of your energy to avoid getting caught in my web. Of course, I don’t want to catch you.”

        “You don’t?”

        Cynthia took another bite out of the slider. Some barbeque sauce dripped onto one of her breasts, and she used a napkin to wipe it clean. “No. Using black magic would be . . . unsatisfying. I want to earn your affection.”

        Sintrae moved slightly closer to the Mistress. “I think . . . you can have it.”

        Cynthia smiled, her plush ruby red lips forming a most lustful shape. She ate the last little crumb of the first slider, and chewed it seductively. “Sintrae, I should let you know . . . I’m *starving*.”

        The goth girl grabbed one of the sliders, and brought it up to the Mistress’s lips. Cynthia obediently took a bite, and spoke as she chewed.

        "Famished."

        Sintrae continued to insistently feed Cynthia, as she moaned with pleasure. The goth girl began to massage the Mistress's soft belly and grope her breasts, grind against her body and kiss her cheeks as she chewed on her food.

        Cynthia reached her hands behind Sintrae and pulled her pants down to her knees, playfully teased her hard cock and stroked her hair.

        Sintrae wasn't entirely sure what was happening. She thought that Cynthia was pretty firmly a Domme, and was surprised by her somewhat submissive behavior. But she realized that what she was doing was in reverence of her body.

        "You've gotten so . . ."

        "Fat. I'm not ashamed of my decadent, luscious body."

        Sintrae grinned. "Does it turn you on? Being so round and soft?"

        Cynthia grinned in turn. "Does it make you happy, when I humor you and answer questions you already know the answer to?"

        "I never thought of myself as being into fat girls, but . . ."

        "It's only natural, isn't it? There's so much more of me to worship, savor, lust for."

        Sintrae grabbed the second to last slider, and as if on cue, May brought out a second tray with another dozen sliders. The goth girl brought the burger to the Mistress's lips, but she grabbed it with her own hand.

        "You haven't had a bite to eat since you got here."

        Sintrae shrugged. "I only eat two meals a day."

        Cynthia insistently moved the slider towards her quarry's mouth, until she relented and opened it before it would've been pushed onto her face. Sintrae made a pleased sound as she tasted May's cooking.

        "You should never deprive yourself, Sintrae. Always eat as much as you want, whenever you like." The Mistress poked Sintrae's meager stomach, and touched her rib cage. "Think about how much softer you could be, how much more powerful you could become."

        The goth girl chewed the slider and moaned as she began to feel her cock being stroked. "I . . . I'm not sure if I want to get fat."

        "But why not? Isn't this the height of pleasure? Being fed and stroked? Living decadently, in Cyn?"

        Sintrae opened her mouth and began to eat her second slider. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth again, and unexpectedly found herself sucking her precum off of Cynthia's index finger.

        "Yeah, but . . ."

        "But nothing. Am I not one of the most beautiful women you've ever seen?"

        Sintrae grinned as she looked at Cynthia. "It costs a lot of money to replace a wardrobe . . ."

        The Madame grinned, knowing that she was breaking down her quarry's doubts. "Eat whatever you want, whenever you can. At first, you'll always feel full, always stuffed and uncomfortable. Bloated. But quickly, you'll become insatiable. Your body will adjust, and expect pleasure at all times."

        Cynthia tightened her grip on Sintrae's cock. "Your capacity for pleasure will know no bounds. You haven't even begun to know what living is yet."

        The Mistress stopped stroking Sintrae, and she motioned for the goth girl to move off of her. She stood up from the couch, grabbed the fresh platter of sliders, and began to walk to her bedroom.

        The goth girl looked expectantly at Cynthia, who smiled as she opened her door. "Do you want to join me?"

 

***

 

 

Raven stood outside of the apartment building, drawing deeply of the vapors of his electronic mimicry of a kiseru pipe. He could do this. He would do this. Calm, steady, focused. He didn’t even need to make Cynthia into any kind of obedient servant, just…Aware of her place in the underground. Be in line with the greater goals. Then, it wouldn’t be a problem, and he wouldn’t have any Masters or Mistresses upset with him. Yes, all would be fine. A little conversation would be all it would take. It would all be fine.

 

He took another hungry breath, filling his lungs with lavender clouds. The magic and nicotine soothed him in equal measure, until he finally exhaled a heavy plume overhead. Satisfied and ready, he turned on his heel and made his way inside. It was time to make his play, and see this through.

 

***

 

The first sign that Raven might have bitten off more than he could chew, was the door. Every other door down the hall of apartments was exactly the same; a tastefully understated off-white, clearly thin and bought in bulk, with the apartment number mounted from the same set of number plates. Except, of course, for the door he was here to knock on.

 

For starters, it was full oak instead of particleboard with fake grain. Stained in the deep near-black of good red wine, just a bit of crimson woodgrain peeking through when the light hit it just so. A gold doorknob stood out compared to all the aluminum ones, to say nothing of the two hanging knockers that were mounted in…a very particular arrangement, about chest height. In utter defiance of the numbering up or down the hall, gleaming gold numbers declared this to be apartment number 69.

 

So. Things had clearly gone…A bit further than Raven had expected. But he shook his head, long black hair spilling this way and that, as he steadied himself. He reached out for one of the knockers, ready to confront Cynthia face to face and settle aff–

 

The door opened before Raven’s hand even touched the gold ring. There stood some gothic parody of a maid, her skin as porcelain-white as the apron on her tiny dress, her chest spilling out of the top of her uniform so intensely that Raven was positive he saw a bit of nipple. “The Mistress is expecting you,” she said unprompted, and moved to one side with a beckoning sweep of her arm. The invitation was not one that could be refused, that much was certain.

 

Yes. Yes, he had most definitely let things go much too far. But Raven pressed his worries down yet again, and entered with all the casual confidence he could muster in this moment.

 

…Suffice to say, the apartment looked…different.

 

Maybe it was the vintage movie posters that lined the blackened walls.

 

Maybe it was the thick, plush rugs that his high heels sank into, laid onto real wood floors.

 

Maybe it was the smell of popcorn, thick in the air with that peculiar fake-butter smell that only movie theater popcorn ever seemed to have. A scent, a taste, that not even The MALL had managed to replicate with their most powerful food-magic.

 

…Or maybe it was just that, when Raven turned the corner, he found himself completely lit by the awe-inspiring light of the single largest television he had ever seen. And there, her bountiful frame backlit by its majesty as she turned to face him, sat Cynthia. “Ah, there you are, Raven~ I was wondering when you would finish pacing around outside and come say hello…”

 

“If I’d known I was being expected, I’d have brought a gift,” Raven said, keeping his cool. But despite his best efforts, it was becoming obvious he was well outnumbered. There was the maid and Cynthia both…And another woman, just starting to get a bit chubby, sat there with Cynthia, a serving-fork of pasta grasped in her hand. She watched, curiously, at the interaction between the two magic users…

 

Raven stepped forward, and saw the last of his potential troubles. A cat of a boi, curled up lazily at Cynthia’s feet and naked except for the flashes of pink that Raven caught between his legs. Two dark tails stuck out of his backside, one from the base of his spine and one clearly wedged right into his ass, yet they both swished and swirled with life.

 

Yet Cynthia just chuckled, around a bite of all that pasta her apparent lover was feeding her. She swallowed it all greedily, smiling at Raven with far too much knowing delight. “Oh, you were always expected. I knew you’d be showing up to check on me soon…And what do you think of my lair, darling?”

 

“It’s certainly an…ode to cinema,” Raven said, doing his best to ignore the vintage horror movie that played on the overwhelming screen. Some vampire or werewolf thing, with a poor maiden cornered by the hulking, giant monster of a force that sought to twist and corrupt her…

 

“Only the best, of course~” Cynthia said. “Or the schlockiest, at any rate. But come, come! I don’t believe you’ve ever met my other half, Sintrae. Sintrae, this is Raven. He’s the one who helped me unlock myself.”

 

“Oh!” Sintrae said, her voice rich like cream. “I would have had May prepare something extra if I’d known how important this company was…”

 

“Nonsense. Raven doesn’t have quite the appetite we do, my dear,” Cynthia said, one thick hand caressing her lover’s face. “But Raven, darling, do come over, find yourself a seat. You’ll catch a draft, standing in the hall like that!”

 

The sensible thing to do would have been to run. To flee then and there, and escape the madness before it could consume him. To just sprint right out, while the maid was heading to the kitchen and Cynthia was busy toying with her lover and her…pet? Familiar? Either way, there was an opportunity. Raven could have gotten out, then and there.

 

But he didn’t become who he was, by being the sensible and cautious type. So Raven forced his confidence to swell, pushed himself forward. He made his way into the seating area, a loveseat to one side looking positively oversized once his slim frame dropped into it. “So, Cynthia, I’d like to talk about your future plans…”

 

Yet Cynthia’s gaze turned to the direction of the kitchen, an impossibly large and commercial-grade one from what little Raven could see into it, as the maid stepped out. She brought a full dining cart with her, loaded with trays and steel domes to hide the treats within. Even with them covered, the hint of aroma that swept out smelled positively divine…Enough to almost raise a concern in Raven.

 

Almost.

 

“Tonight’s dinner, as requested, Mistress,” the maid said, all crisp formal diction and tight tone. Servitude had been wrapped up into her very identity, rounding off the edges of any excitement or thrill she might have shown otherwise.

 

Cynthia smiled broadly, finally looking back to Raven. “Future plans can wait for the future. Right now, let’s simply enjoy a bit of food and a good movie…” she purred, the trays laid out one by one. A massive serving of food each for Cynthia and Sintrae, a bowl of something placed down on the floor in front of the catboi, and–

 

And another tray, in front of Raven’s own seat. He stared, confused and conflicted, as the maid lifted its dome lid to reveal nothing less than an entire movie-theater spread. Nachos dripping in golden cheese goo, two hot dogs covered in thoroughly blended chili, somehow a freshly prepared slushie drink…And as the capstone, the maid simply turned the dome-lid upside down, now holding an equally sized bowl of popcorn caked in butter-salt and drenched in cooking oil.

 

He could not possibly eat all of this.

 

He would not touch any of this. It was a blatant, obvious tra–

 

“Now now, Raven, why are you looking so glum?” Cynthia asked, her voice suddenly much closer. Because the loveseat was no longer separate from the couch, Raven finding himself between the two gothic women in the blink of an eye, their respective meals towering against the heaving pile of grub that had been put in front of him.

 

“This, I’m not particularly inclined to–”

 

Raven found himself cut off by the press of soft warmth against him, the scent of a chili dog overwhelming as it came up to his lips. Sintrae held the other end of the phallic trash-food, bedroom eyes watching Raven with a hunger that was entirely separate from caloric need. Was it his imagination, or did she look a bit older than she had mere minutes ago, a bit more…cougarish in her hungers? “Oh, you silly boi…You’re all skin and bones! We can’t have that with one of our dear friends…”

 

Had it just been Sintrae, Raven might have been able to get away. But then Cynthia pressed in from the other side, her own weight pushing down upon him heavily. He was pinned in place between the two women, even as their catboi watched him curiously. He squirmed, struggled, strained…But it was futile. He tried to shout, to cast a spell even without his pipe at the ready, and that was all it took.

 

The chili dog passed by his lips before he could stop it. The flavors, textures, crashed into his tongue with an overwhelming force. The sheer force of the information overwhelmed his neurons, pressed against his mind as fiercely as the two ladies were pressing against his body. “Mmmph,” he managed, barely keeping his eyes from rolling in the back of his head.

 

“Now, now. It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full,” Cynthia said. “And we’ll be keeping it very full…”

 

He could feel it. He could feel the emptiness opening up inside of him, the hunger as the cursed food entered his body. But Raven, so overwhelmed, was unable to stop it in time. Unable to do anything, as Sintrae fed him the encased meat one bite at a time. The nachos came next, slathered in their false dairy. Slurps of slushie kept him from being able to slow down, even for a moment. If it wasn’t her, it was Cynthia reaching around with a thick hand full of popcorn, making him gobble it up. For all his power, they played with him as if he was one of their boitoys.

 

His only opening came when the catboi started to hump his leg needily. “Nyahhh…You have cock, nyah?” he asked, wiggling his tush in invitation of a fucking. Both of the goths turned to admonish him, Cynthia saying something about a tighter cage…Raven didn’t hear the details. Because the moment they weren’t both pressing against him, the moment he could even think of it, he scrambled free of them both, arms and legs flailing as he raced for the door! Shouts came after him, spells nipped at his ankles and a shoe went flying in his panicked escape…But he yanked the door shut behind him, kicking the other heel away as he ran into the hall of the apartment complex.

 

Had he stayed a moment longer, he never would have made it out of the apartment.

 

***

 

The theater shined and dazzled in the night sky, an absolute display of wonders as Cynthia approached it. What weekend was complete, without journeying here to see cinematic delights the way they were meant to be watched, on a true silver screen? Nothing else could possibly be better. She would watch, she would feast, and inevitably, she would return to dear Sage’s apartment for some well-deserved fun and rest…But this time, there was a difference.

 

This time, she had Sintrae with her.

 

And oh, the weeks had been kind to her lover. She’d positively blossomed, swelling out under their rich feasts and lurid playtimes. The weight had settled so deliciously on her, forming into a lovely pear-shape that begged to be groped and fondled. But the weight alone wasn’t what truly turned Cynthia on, no.

 

What really got her going was the maturity. Veins of silver crossed through Sintrae’s long, dark hair, while her face’s shape was newly defined by the lines settled into it. Even as the both of them sank into their love of movies, they both now looked, and felt, like they’d come of age during the golden age of schlock.

 

And with that had come hungers. The desire for sweet, naive poppets perfect to play with. Like Derek, or like Sage. Oh, the two would have such fun with them, once Sintrae met the sweet thing…Cynthia licked her lips at the very thought, as she came up to the ticket window. “From silver screens come lurid screams,” she said, as soon as she was up to the microphone.

 

“Welcome back, Cynthia. I’m so very eager to meet the companion you’ve brought with you tonight~” came the voice of Fi, full of devilish amusement, before the line went dead.

 

“...What exactly is this place?” Sintrae asked, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. Her body felt strange, different…but good, in its endless needs of pleasure.

 

“You’re going to love it, I promise,” Cynthia said in turn. She took Sintrae’s hand, guiding her into the newly-unlocked theater. Into the gold, the shimmer, the glory of cinematic history. For all that the apartment had become an altar to filmic indulgence, this was truly Cynthia’s perfect place.

 

And of course, they weren’t alone. There were all the usuals, chattering away, and eager to wave Cynthia over as soon as they spotted her. So thrilled to meet her companion, to hear of Sintrae’s favorite movies and what she thought of their little social club…But for all the social niceties, Cynthia’s eyes roamed the modest crowd, looking for one particular bob of green.

 

“Looking for someone?” Fi asked, stepping into the room. “I made sure to set them aside for you,” she said, sweeping dear sweet Sage out from behind her. Sage, who always looked at Cynthia with such worshipful eyes…

 

And now was seeing Sintrae, too.

 

Sintrae, whose eyes met with Sage’s. She stared, ogled really, as she took the enby in. “Oh my…Who is this? What have you been keeping from me, Cynthia…?” she asked, a lecherous husk slipping into her voice despite her efforts at self-restraint.

 

“Sintrae, I’d like you to meet Fidda, the woman in charge of this get-together…And Sage, my darling little plaything on theater night,” Cynthia said, already scooping Sage into her vicinity. But oh, the way they looked at Sintrae, with a bottom’s need to satisfy…

 

Fi, for her part, smiled quite knowingly. “A pleasure, Sintrae,” she said, holding out her hand to shake. “But all my friends call me Fi…And any friend, or more, of Cynthia’s is a friend of mine. Please do make yourselves comfortable. It’ll be a bit before I start taking dinner orders, but the snack counter is open.”

 

She leaned in close, then, whispering right into Sintrae’s ear. “And do be careful not to tire poor Sage out, before the main event. They’ll already have their work cut out for them, keeping both of you ladies satisfied at once~”

 

A startled, delighted little giggle slid out of Sintrae in that moment, at the very thought of how she might wear Sage out with Cynthia’s help. “But of course,” she whispered back, “I’ll make sure to pace myself with them…”

 

Which left Sage, clinging to Cynthia’s side with adoring need. “Um…Hello, miss. I’m Sage,” they said, sounding just a bit nervous.

 

Sintrae found she was starting to like when cute things were nervous. “Hello…You can call me Miss Sintrae. I’m sure you and I are going to be very well acquainted soon, darling,” she cooed, lust pumping through her veins at record speed. She had never wanted anything in her entire life, as much as she wanted to squeeze this adorable little enby between her and Cynthia until neither of them could move their weary, cougar-fied bones an inch.

 

This would certainly be a night to remember.

 

_____

 

May dutifully studied the viewfinders on the two used DSLR cameras she'd found, and made sure the mixer and all of her microphones were being recognized properly in Reaper. She'd spent so much time learning about ASIO stuff that she could barely understand. It was all, of course, for her Mistress, who was seated on a red velvet couch with her bride.

        "Is everything working correctly?", Sintrae asked, after swallowing some popcorn. Cynthia watched her maid as she gently stroked Derek's hair, the cat laying on her lap.

        May furrowed her brow slightly. "I . . . I think . . . your levels are all showing up in the software. I think we're ready to record." She gave a perfunctory thumbs up to Cynthia after pushing record on everything, and the crimson haired woman grinned.

        "Greetings, schlock lovers, denizens of horror, and fellow Mistresses of Night. It is I, Cynthia, Madame of Shadow. Joining me today, on this inaugural broadcast, are my beloved Sintrae, and our special guest Fidda, who works at the local repertory house."

        Fi grinned from her own seat adjacent to the couch. Between the two lovers, there was simply no space for her to sit. "Thank you for having me on your show."

        Cynthia held up a Blu-Ray. "Today, we are watching Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, a wonderful delicacy directed by the late Russ Meyers."

        Sintrae smiled. "It's not exactly a horror film, but it does have a certain heaving, busomy quality."

        "Yes, indeed. Join the three of us on this lurid journey, as we descend into Cyn."

        May checked that everything was working once more, and then began to settle down. She returned to the kitchen to prepare some nachos; she knew the popcorn she'd brought her Mistresses would only last for a few moments.

.  .  .

 

Raven sighed as he finished eating another container of brownies. He mentally commanded his crystal ball to dissipate the image of Cynthia he’d been watching, having seen enough.

        He stood up, and removed the belt on his black silken robes, his only clothes that still fit him. The silk parted ways, revealing his round, soft, and full pale belly, as well as his pudgy moobs.

        The goth sighed. He’d hoped the nicotine would suppress his appetite after he discovered he didn’t know how to dispel whatever Cynthia had cast onto him, but . . . no such luck. His fat had only continued to grow since he’d barely managed to escape their last encounter, until he’d tripled his once meager weight.

        Even if his choker did look kind of cute with his soft, round face and his double chin, that was besides the point; he’d lost control.

        Raven left his scrying table for the kitchen, where a friend of his had helpfully left him an abundance of snacks and meals. As he dished himself a bowl of mac & cheese, and poured in some reconstituting whole milk, he took a look at the shrine devoted to his succubus Mistress.

        *Oh Ms. Tress . . . what will you do to me, once you discover the monster I’ve created? My dream, to top from the bottom with a Mommy of my own creation . . . it was so obvious I would be destroyed by my own hubris.*

_____

 

 

“If you don’t bring me my food in thirty seconds, I’m not letting you out of your cage until next week.”

        Tyler hurriedly finished dishing up the lasagna he’d just pulled out of the oven, as he tried to avoid burning his hands in the process. He brought the bowl, filled with cheeses, sheets of pasta, and meat to Sanguina, who was resting on her side on the couch, propped up by some blankets and pillows.

        Since it was a Thursday, she was naturally watching the latest episode of Cynthia’s show as it streamed for the first time. From the very first episode of the show that she’d seen, she’d been a religious viewer.

        Tyler had witnessed the change it had brought upon her firsthand. After all, he’d practically turned into a professional chef in order to satisfy Sanguina’s new appetite. Cynthia’s philosophies on decadence and pleasure had made an impression on Sanguina that Tyler hadn’t exactly expected.

        Sanguina had once been muscular, sinewy, and lean. Now, she was fat enough to crush Tyler under her weight, which she often did after a satisfying film and meal. Her hard, mean face had softened, but her eyes were still cruel and playful.

        “Worship me”, the goth commanded, without much force; Tyler didn’t require a heavy hand. He dutifully began to feed her the lasagna, as he groped her belly and breasts with his other hand.

        Sanguina narrowed her eyes in thought as she watched Cynthia scratch Derek behind his ears. “I wonder . . . if I know anybody that could turn you into a kitten.”