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Topic: The Haunted Mansion

The Ghosts: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … hosts.html


The Haunted Mansion
Book 1: The Ghosts

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” the Templar said mockingly while helping Kitten climb down from the coach.

Kitten rolled her eyes, accepted her valise, and walked up the path to the Haunted Mansion without another glance at her escort. The Haunted Mansion was neither a mansion nor haunted, just a rickety old townhouse in a once posh part of town. She took in the peeling paint and cracked windows and the battered gambrel roof, missing rather too many shingles, like a mouth with lost teeth. She stepped onto the sagging porch and marched up to the battered old door which opened itself with a frustrated squeal. “This ought to be fun,”Kitten mused, because while it might not be haunted, the house was full of Ghosts.

Kitten skipped lightly through the threshold and into a sad little foyer, “Hullo? Is anyone home?”

“In here,” called a bored voice from an open doorway to her left. Kitten peaked inside to see a squalid office with four desks, only two of which were occupied. Kitten nimbly placed her valise on an abandoned desk and smiled at her new coworkers. “I’m Kitten,” she said while doing a little curtsy.

“And what do you want?” Asked the man in the office. He was tall and muscular with cropped blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed simply in a soldier’s tunic and trousers with his sleeves rolled up to show off the faded blue Templar runes tattooed on his arms.

“That’s Farmer,” said the other office occupant, a rail thin woman dressed in a frumpy white blouse and loose purple skirt. “I’m Willow.”

“Oh!” Kitten said brightly. “Why are you green?” Because Willow had emerald green skin and a frizzy mop of dark green hair pulled back in a loose bun.

The green woman frowned, her thin mouth a displeased line. “There was an accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Kitten asked innocently.

“The magical kind,” Willow said crossly. Which was fair, Kitten supposed, since it was an embarrassing little tale. Willow had been a promising young Alchemist once, not much of an Adept, but good at the benchtop. She’d been working on distilling the essence of magic into a purified substance, and had actually made some promising progress in Kitten’s opinion. Which was a shame, in a way, since magic rendered physical was tremendously unstable. Willow Branch’s little experiment had destroyed most of a guild laboratory, caused sundry bodily harm, and left Willow permanently colored green.

“And why not have it fixed?” Kitten asked.

“Maybe I like it.”

“What do you want?” The man, Farmer, demanded again.

“You must hate it here,” Kitten said turning her amused gaze to the former Templar. Disgraced, really, since Benjamin Farmer had failed to resist a fairly basic Charm spell which had allowed thieves to carry off some quite precious treasures from the Arcanum Historic.

“We all hate it here,” Farmer replied, crossing his thick forearms across his chest. “But what do you want?”

Kitten smiled widely and threw out her hands, “I work here! I’m the newest Ghost!”

“Delightful,” Willow said.

***

Fox flipped open another tome and began the process of rooting out vile Necromancy. Given the spellbook belonged to a first year Academy student this made it likely a futile exercise. He sighed and rubbed his face, resigned to another day of reading poorly formulated cantrips.

“Smithrite, please.” He glanced at his office mate and saw her glaring at him.

“What?”

“We’ve discussed this,” Esme Asmodian’s sharp purple eyes simmered with displeasure. “No sighing in the office.” She made fists of her narrow hands, “It’s distracting.”

“Sorry.”

Fox stifled another sigh. You’d think Esme would welcome a distraction, given that he was rooting out verboten spells in children’s books and she was checking alchemy ledgers for illegal ingredients. A little camaraderie and commiseration would go a long way to making this whole situation less miserable. Esme caught him staring and scowled, and Fox quickly looked back at his work. You’d think she was still possessed by that demon, he thought miserably.

“Hullo fellow Ghosts!” Said a far too joyful voice.

Fox’s stomach dropped as he saw the owner of the voice. “Catherine Mazorubeus…”

The woman’s pretty face curled into a smile, “Fox Smithrite.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a small voice. He knew Kitten Mazorubeus, slightly, but in the worst possible way. The beautiful young woman with the black hair and mischievous golden eyes was the very architect of his disgrace and banishment to the Haunted Mansion. Kitten bit her lip and studied him like a small and helpless creature, and he hated himself for the little thrill it caused. He knew she was trouble, but those eyes and that face and that body in that dress… he shook his head. “How is your mother?”

“Recovered,” she said as if she didn’t care. “Mostly.”

Recovered from being turned into a dog.

By the wildly powerful Transmutation prodigy Fox Smithrite.

On a dare from Kitten Mazorubeus.

The spoiled daughter of High Archmage Mazorubeus.

“She still barks sometimes and will involuntarily chase a ball when thrown,” Kitten said happily. “And she has a most unnatural affinity for curs.”

Fox shivered, it was probably his good fortune to have only been banished to the Haunted Mansion instead of disintegrated outright. “Oh…”

“Leave Smithrite alone,” said Esme. “Kicking such a pathetic creature is hardly sporting.”

“Esme Asmodian,” Kitten purred, “how the mighty have… Fallen…”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?’

Fox squirmed in his chair, said a little prayer to the Patron of Cowards. His fuck up, while rather legendary, had been written off as broadly harmless and generally amusing, except of course by the High Archmage. Esme’s troubles had been significantly more dire, what with the Demon possession and ensuing rampage, fornication, and property destruction. With one poorly drawn salt circle she’d gone from a shining example of a young Wizardess to a perfect example of why the Templar were a grim necessity. One extremely bloody exorcism later and Esme was a Ghost, probably for life.

“Just an observation,” Kitten said merrily.

A loud thump sounded from the ceiling and a voice shrieked, “Catherine Mazorubeus! Come to my office at once before you get yourself exploded!” Another thump, “And Smithrite and Asmodian! Back to work you lazy shits!”

“Coming Aunty Beverly!” Kitten sang. She glanced back over a ravishing shoulder, “Oh, Fox? I do so look forward to spending more time with you…”

Kitten skipped out the door and Fox sighed.

This time Esme didn’t scold him.

***

“What in the hells did I do to deserve this bullshit?”

“I’m happy to see you too Aunty Beverley.”

“I’m not your bloody Aunt,” Lady Vithgoth growled, “And for the foreseeable future you will refer to me as Yes Mistress.”

“Yessss Mistress…” Kitten moaned.

Lady Vithgoth, Goth but never to her face, pinched her nose, “I take it back, just Boss will suffice.”

“Yessss Boss…” Kitten sensually licked her lips.

Goth sighed, “Which brings us back to my original question: why the fuck are you here?”

“I pissed off daddy again.”

A raised eyebrow and a shuffle of antiquated, stained, and badly mended robes, “And?”

“And I perhaps unleashed a plague of Imps inside the High Tower.” Kitten grinned, “It was very funny!”

“I bet. And so I am to babysit you for his High Archmageship for the foreseeable future? To what end?” Because they both knew that real consequence would never touch the High Archmage’s troublesome daughter.

“I believe he wants this place to scare me straight.”

“Good luck with that,” Goth said to herself. “Run along and join the other lost causes. Tell Willow to keep you busy.”

“And tell your father he’s a fatuous arsehole!”

***

Willow dropped a stack of scrolls onto Kitten’s desk, “You are to read these and look for cryptic references of Demon worship.”

Willow watched Kitten unroll a scroll and frown in puzzlement, “This is a concert broadsheet?”

“Some high ranking Templar has got it into their head that bards are performing the Devil’s music.”

Willow giggled, “That’s preposterous!”

“I’m sure they have their reasons,” Farmer grumbled from the far side of the office with the sparkling intelligence of an obedient hound. You can kick the Templar out of the Order but you can’t kick the stupid out of their head. Willow smirked as Kitten rolled her eyes.

“Yes, well,” Willow allowed, “Ours is not to debate the wisdom of our tasks, it’s to begrudgingly do as we’re told.”

Kitten smacked the scroll, “But this is obviously a waste of time.”

“It’s all a waste of time,” Farmer grumbled.

Willow clapped her green hands and smiled sweetly, “They are trying to crush our spirits so that we give up and agree to the Branding.” The act of sealing away someone’s connection to magic for the rest of their mortal lives, which for Willow Branch was a fate worse than death, and she suspected the same for Fox and Esme as well. The Ghosts all secretly hoped that one day they would be deemed rehabilitated and allowed back into Guild Towers, Academies, and Laboratories so they could resume their magical careers. Or in Farmer’s case, he probably hoped that Templar would take his stupid arse back. Which of course was ridiculous, no one ever returned from the Haunted Mansion, which is why they were unkindly called Ghosts.

Willow returned to her desk and leafed through her own stack of broadsheets and wondered agin why she didn’t just quit. It would be easier in so many ways. She was tired of the mind rotting monotony and pointless tasks of the Haunted Mansion, but more than that, she was sick of being green. She looked like a fairy tale witch and couldn’t walk the streets without being stared at by children, and more than a few adults. A cure could be performed, she’d been told, but the powerful Abjuration would cut her off from magic. Greater Restoration as a kind of Branding. On any given day she could walk away from this awful place and get her life back in more way than one.

All it would cost was her dream of distilling magic into its purist form.

She’d been so fucking close!

And so Willow took up the first scroll, a bawdy limerick belonging to a tiny Bard with an enormous codpiece, and got to work.

***

“So what do we Ghosts do around here for fun?” Kitten asked from the doorway of their tiny kitchen.

“Uh whah?” Fox said with a cringe.

Kitten touched him lightly as she slinked past and lifted herself to perch on the cabinetry which creaked alarmingly. “You do have fun, don’t you?”

“Not… as such.” Fox managed.

Kitten brushed her long black hair, “Goth got you all on a short leash?”

“No. Well, perhaps?” Fox felt like his brain was shrinking.

“Is Aunty Goth so terrifying?”

“Well they say she was once a real deal Battlemage, you know, before the Haunted House.” He wondered if he should try to escape.

“Oh that’s all completely true,” Kitten said with a wink. “She was once the shit-kicking right hand of the Archmage Jastrogan and fought valiantly during the Time of Incursions.” She leaned forward to whisper, displaying Fox noticed, rather a lot of her cleavage. “They say she was once a member of the Black Coven too…”

“Then how did she end up here?” Running a sad little remedial colony of fuckups.

Kitten shrugged expansively, “That is one mystery I would love to know the answer to.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there, ha ha.” Fox took a step backward and decided that he was better off without making tea. “I must be going…”

Kitten slid lightly off the counter and stepped closer to him, her scent of jasmine and spice and musk overwhelming in proximity. “But I’m bored…”

“Uh?”

“I think we should have a little fun,” She studied Fox from very close. “You know, you’re positively wasted in a place like this. A mage with your raw skill in Flesh Transmutation should be free to experiment!”

Fox felt a swelling of pride, he was rather powerful, but: “You know I’m strictly forbidden from, ah, using my talents.”

“Pish,” Kitten said. “It can be our little secret.”

“Um…”

“I’m you’re very willing test subject.” Her voice dropped an octave and became husky, “Transform me.”

“Urgh…” Fox swallowed, “In-into what?”

“Make me catty.”

“You want me to turn you into a cat?”

“Oh no, not all the way. I saw what that did to mother. I just want some decorations, maybe some cute ears and a tail, something to piss of daddy.”

“I thought you said it would be a secret.”

“I was lying.”

Fox crossed his arms and took a step back. “I refuse!”

Kitten advanced a step and said directly: “I know about that special club of yours, Fox Smithrite. That place where you play with other willing test subjects.” She paused and stroked his arm, “I’d hate for it all to come to light after you’ve been so careful to keep it hidden.”

Fuck! Gods and demons! Fox’s heart was racing and he felt like he might puke! The last thing he needed was to get discovered breaking the one rule he was told to follow. They would give him The Brand for sure, if not toss him into the Oubliette! “Gods damn you.”

Kitten smiled smugly, “That’s the spirit!”

“What exactly do you want?’

“Oh start with the ears and eyes! And the tail! And oh, I’d fancy some extra nipples like those girls at your club..”

Fox rolled up his sleeves and reached out for magic. Fuck, he thought, I should have fled screaming when I had the chance.

***

Esme put down the ledger and wondered what was taking Smithrite so long. Just stepping out for some tea? What was he doing? Growing it from scratch? Not that she cared, particularly, really his absence was a small blessing, but if she was stuck doing this menial crap so was he. No sneaking off to lollygag. It was the principle of the thing. And besides, tracking him down for a scolding was more entertaining than this rubbish.

Esme rubbed her hands together, stood, straightened her smart jacket and set off for the communal kitchen. The kitchen was on the same cramped second storey as their office so it was a short journey. Esme frowned, the kitchen door was closed, and more concerning, it was locked. Since the door lacked a locking mechanism this meant it was sealed with a spell. “What’s all this then?”

She heard a giggle and a moan and…a meow? What the fuck? That sounded like the horrid High Archmage’s brat. She gave the doorknob another try and kicked it for good measure. “Open this door!”

“Shit…” Esme heard Smithrite say. Well fine, she could do this the hard way. Esme’s fingers danced and she intoned the Arcanical formula for Unlock. The door sprang open and standing in nothing but her panties was Catherine Mazorubeus who was… purring?

“Meow,” meowed Kitten, who smirked at Esme with glowing yellow feline eyes. She had triangular black furred ears too, a pink nose and whiskers, and ugh, was that a tail? And the harlot had four extra nipples cascading down her chest below her tits, pert and aroused, and… “What the actual fuck?!”

Esme whirled to Smithrite who had stopped casting and was looking desperate to be anywhere else. “Smithrite you fucking idiot!”

“I… I… I…”

“Cat’s got his tongue,” Kitten purred.

“You stupid bitch!” Esme had worked and worked and worked from nothing, mastering magic by logic and theorem until one little mistake, and now she was banished to this stupid useless dump and this awful nepotistic trollop was here to play fun and games and…

“Wrong animal. Meow.”

“Ah!” And before she realized what she was doing Esme was conjuring a lightening blast. Kitten laughed and made a quick gesture and cool soothing force flowed over Esme and she felt the spell unravel. “Fuck!” And then Esme felt a strange tingle in her wrist and lifted it to see the Glyph of Banishment and Warding carved into her skin smoulder and vanish. “Oh fuck. No no no no no no no!”

“What did you do?” Smithrite asked.

Kitten shrugged, “It was just Dispell.”

Esme stared at the skin of her bare wrist and felt a presence press against her mind. Hello Sweetness, I promised you I would return. “No, you were gone!”

“Asmodian? Esme?”

Esme felt herself fracture on the inside, felt all of her tamped down rage burn into a pyre and consume her. No, not consume. Forge her. Turn all of her anger and disappointment outward, create sharp edges and razor barbs, aim her at the world. She was still herself, but different. Adjusted. Before she had been a helpless passenger, a body to wear, a victim of fate, but this time she had a purpose. Release me, Sweetness. Esme looked at Fox and Kitten and smiled with all of her teeth, “In a manner of speaking.”

“Bloody Fucking hells!” Fox began casting, trying to pull together a Banishment, but he was out of his depth. A raw sorcerer with a speciality, not a practiced Wizard, like she was, or had been before. Now she was so much more. “OBEY!” She said and forced her will upon Fox, easily dominating him. Fox had always been weak. He stopped casting and stood listlessly, body posture passive.

“Brilliant!” Kitten purred, her tail lashing playfully behind her.

“You!” Esme said, raising a finger, feeling demonic power ripple.

Kitten raised her hands, “Calm down, I submit willingly.”

“Why?”

“Because this is exciting!” Kitten rested her hands on her hips and pushed out her naked chest. “So what’s the plan, mistress?”

Sweetness, release me! We can be reunited! “I require a Summoning Circle.”

Kitten nodded, “Of course, right. But wouldn’t it be more fun if you looked the part first? You’re rather too ordinary for a Demoness, and you have the tools to fix it right here.” She nodded at the dominated Smithrite.

This form is lacking. Perfect my vessel. Esme felt a pang of distaste, she was happy with her body, wasn’t she? But she did look rather ordinary, and the Demoness she’d become needed something… extra. Excitement replaced confusion and she burned her clothes off her body in a flash of hellfire. Esme gestured at Smithrite, “Slave, REMAKE ME.”

Smithrite’s face didn’t change, his eyes remained glassy and drool hung from his mouth, but his arms started to dance and power flowed through him and into Esme. She moaned and mentally directed that force and felt her thin body grow fit and stronger, her height increase, and with a surge of arousal, she felt her breasts swell into heavy perfection and her hips and ass expand into a pleasing hourglass. She felt a new hunger kindle in her belly, a wet heat that dribbled down her leg. “Yes…” she hissed, “MORE.” Waves of magic flowed over her arms and legs and she watched her forearms grow red scales and her hands sharpen into claws, while her lower legs became scaled boots ending in dainty hooves. She felt heat flow through her face and felt her features grow sharper, her mousey hair cascade into silky black tresses, and backswept jagged red horns sprout from her forehead like a crown. Her back itched and burned and short decorative dragon-like wings grew from her shoulders and a long flexible tail with a barbed, almost phallic tip wiggled free from her ass. Which made the burning heat in her seethe: she needed one more thing. Esme moaned and felt the magic coalesce in her crotch and gasped as a long, thick, ridged and barbed demonic cock grew from her body. She screamed in ecstasy and came, splattering the room and Kitten with faintly glowing semen. “Ahhhhhhh….” Much better, Sweetness.

“Magificent!” Kitten said, hands clutched in delight. “Do me next!”

Esme raised her eyebrow and felt her pulse thrum in her cock and cunt. “What?”

Kitten raised her hands in supplication, “Do you not deserve a pleasure slave, Mistress?”

Esme studied Kitten and felt an awesome thrill. Was she not her plaything? Did she not deserve pleasure and obedience? Her new cock ached at the thought. Yes, my Sweetness, take what is ours. Esme ran her hand along the burning ridges and whorls of her cock. “Slave, REMAKE HER.”

Esme stroked her cock and fondled one of her heavy tits and let her mind fantasize as she directed Smithrite’s Transmutational power. Kitten gasped as her pussy grew enflamed, her labia and clitoris swelling and her cunt growing larger and perpetually aroused. Her chest blossomed as the four extra nipples on her body become breasts and moaned as all six of her tits swelled into heavy teardrops that covered her torso. “Ahhhh…” she hissed happily gripping her tits. Esme licked her lips with her newly forked tongue and watched as all six of Kitten’s nipples split open into engorge cunts that dribbled slick juices down her body. Kitten shrieked and orgasmed, a look of ecstatic delight on her face. “D-don’t stop,” she begged. Esme smirked, she had no intention. She channeled more power through Smithrite, concentrating it upon Kitten’s legs and feline tail, and the three limbs grew and elongated, became boneless and wriggling. Esme laughed as all three of Kitten’s lower limbs split, leaving her with six long shiny black tentacles in place of legs, that coiled and churned below her hips. “Fuck!” Kitten cried, still delighted, and “Fuck” again as her long black hair became a cap of matching tentacles that slid down her back and shoulders, her two feline ears incongruously retained. Esme felt something inside her body churn and a pressure that was about to burst, she was so close to finishing, and so was Kitten. She just needed one final touch, something to put the troublesome sorceress in her place. Esme snapped her hands and Kitten’s eyes went wide as her arms dwindled away into her shoulders. “Ohhhh…” she moaned, “kinky…” Esme grunted and came, her cock spraying another blast of unholy cum onto her enthusiastic pleasure slave.

Kitten lifted herself on her tentacles and caressed them over her body, her face rapt with pleasure. Esme felt conflicted, what the fuck did she do? But she also felt the burning desire in her Demonic blood. It had been a while since she’d taken a lover. Do it, Sweetness, fuck her. Esme opened her mouth to issue a command, but Kitten had already slithered to her and was kissing her, her mouth hot and desperately hungry against Esme’s, her tentacles boiling around them, slipping into Esme’s cunt and anus, Kitten’s breast cunts. “I need you,” Kitten purred and used the grip of her coils to force Esme’s cock into her endlessly hungry cunt. Esme felt herself enter her slave and “Ffffffuckkk…”

***

Farmer frowned at the table. He knew he was here to be punished, but he prided himself on keeping keen eyes on these miscreant wizards regardless. You couldn’t bloody trust them. Always scheming or meddling or accidentally blowing up a hamlet. A pox on the lot of them! But with a man like him on the job this pathetic lot wouldn’t be getting into any kind of mischief. Nope, not on his watch. He scratched his arm for the seventeenth time in the last hour. Something there was really nagging at him.

“Chiggers again?” Willow asked, giving him a distasteful look.

“Stow it,” Farmer grumbled, while part of him wondered if he had picked up a critter. He frowned at his arm and… “Fuck!”

“So it is chiggers?”

“Demon!”

“I hardly think your parasite problem is demonic…”

Farmer held out his arm and pointed to the faintly glowing and wildly itchy Templar rune on his arm. “There is a Demonic Incursion happening!” And close by too, judging by the urgent sting in his arm.

“I guess we ought to alert the authorities.”

“Bugger that,” Farmer said, digging beside his desk and grabbing his sword. This was the shit he lived for, and a blessed opportunity to impress the Templar. He wish he had his old armour, or his enchanted shield, or his longsword that cleaved through warding, but he would make due with his bastard sword. Wizards bled after all, and weren’t exactly known for their stout constitutions. He brandished the sword, “To battle!”

And that’s when they heard a shriek and crash from upstairs.

***

Willow scuttled up the stairs in the wake of Farmer as he clumsily mounted a charge. The strange sounds were coming from the kitchen and were in Willow’s opinion much more likely to be a magically aided culinary accident than something infernal. But it should be amusing to see who’d fucked up. Farmer stopped suddenly at the threshold and Willow crashed into his broad back. “Fuck…” he said.

“What? Let me see?” Willow wiggled around to get a look… “Fuck?”

Fox was standing in a corner of the room looking catatonic while two creatures fought… no correction: they fucked wildly in the center of the room. One seemed to be made mostly of shiny black tentacles that flailed and quested while the other creature showed flashes of red dragons scales and… was that Esme? A jubilant squeal emitted from the pile and Kitten’s face surfaced from the mess wearing a pinched expression of indescribable pleasure. This was followed immediately by a growl and an improved version of Esme’s face pulled back in a feral snarl. “What. The. Actual. Fuck!?”

“Demon! Be gone!” Farmer yelled, rather unhelpfully.

Esme looked at them with eyes that were completely black like the void. “BE STILL.”

And they were still, Willow frozen with a confused look on her face, and Farmer with his stupid sword held aloft preparing to charge. Willow fought against the Hold spell, but she knew she was an academic and not a true mage, and found her will lacking for the task. She watched in frozen horror as Esme and Kitten disentangled themselves, a powerful demoness made flesh and a creature of breasts and tentacles. Kitten smiled and worried at her lips with a tentacle, “Mistress, what shall you do?”

Esme strode forward, hooves clacking on the floor, and tapped her chin with a talon. She studied Willow like a piece of meat and then scowled at Farmer with a startling fury. Willow would have flinched if she could. “Templar!” Esme hissed, “Tool of oppression! You’re why I’m stuck here, why we are apart. You should be punished, you pathetic puppet of the system…”

Kitten giggled, “Puppet! I love that.”

Esme smirked, “Do not be impertinent, Slave.”

“I would hate to be punished, Mistress,” Kitten said coyly. Why did it look like she was having fun?

Esme looked like she was listening to someone absent speak and nodded, “It was a good suggestion. Slave, REMAKE…HER…

Fox started to chant and Willow felt the hairs on her arms stand up as magic built into a tempest around the Transmutation Sorcerer. The magic cascaded into Farmer like a wave and even with his natural Templar resistance, Willow watched as he shrank, muscles withering away as his flesh became smooth and shapely and feminine. The sword fell to the floor and his clothes burned off his body, or well her body, since that part of her anatomy had clearly swapped sexes. Farmer was becoming lithe and beautiful, her face angelic with huge eyes and swollen lips, and her breasts and ass becoming generous and ripe. Willow felt an inconvenient pang of arousal flow through her mind. This was pushing rather a lot of her private buttons. Farmer shuddered and strange seams appeared at her joints: her wrists and ankles, knees and elbows, hips and shoulders and neck. Points of articulation. Like a doll. Like a puppet. Esme smiled and Farmer collapsed in a heap like she’d had her strings cut. Gods alive…

“What shall we do with you, my green friend?” Esme was looking at Willow now, her eyes shining with hunger, the monstrous cock on her body rigid like a threat. Like a promise. Kitten moaned loudly and Willow saw she was fucking herself with her tentacles in several cunts at once. Willow shivered mentally and wished she could say something, by time, maybe play along until help arrived. Maybe join the fun. Surely Goth would hear the commotion and put an end to this. Willow pleaded with her very soul for freedom and strained and… she broke through the Hold spell. “Let me help you,” she gasped.

Esme laughed and gestured at Kitten, “This slut coming willingly was a surprise, but you? This feels tricksy.” She paused and listened, “Yes surely it’s a trick.”

“Let me prove it.” Willow thought desperately. What could she do? There was no one to betray or attack, so how could she play along? Her eyes scanned Kitten moaning and Farmer helpless and Esme watching her with amused eyes and exquisite round breasts and the fearsome heft of her cock. Willow felt that same squirming arousal, why did she find this so stimulating? She’d fantasized about Esme before, but not like this. This was something like out of the naughty fictions she kept hidden under her mattress… Willow needed a distraction and what the fuck, why not try the fun way? She figured she’d be getting fucked either way. Willow licked her lips, dropped to her knees and crawled to Esme. She looked up at the grinning demoness and pulled her cock into her mouth. The cock was burning hot like an ember, and ridged so it dragged at her cheeks and lips, but it tasted salty and sweet and delicious. Heavy clawed hands gripped her head and Esme moaned. “Slave, REMAKE HER.”

“Do not stop,” Esme commanded Willow as Fox started to chant. Willow gasped as she felt energy flow into her body. “Do not disappoint me.” Willow felt a warm caress flow across her, felt things shift and stretch and plump. Am I hot now, she wondered as she licked and sucked Esme’s cock, am I still green? She felt a searing pressure in her chest and a swelling and she gagged and moaned. One of her hands groped her chest to feel three huge tits on her chest, and she plunged the fingers of her other hand deep into Esme’s cunt which was hot and liquid like a volcano. Fuck this was sexy! “Good, good,” Esme grunted and Willow felt a weird melting sensation in her legs followed by an aching stretching out behind her. There was suddenly so much more of her, Willow flexed something new, something definitely not legs, but she didn’t dare stop sucking Esme’s cock to see. She shivered, what was she becoming? Willow felt a wrenching in her sides that she tried ignore. Willow ran a hand along Esme’s cock and clutched her ass, and fingered her, and felt up her own tits, and fuck that was too many hands! She ran two of them over herself and confirmed she had six arms now. Esme felt her cunt squirm and grow hotter and hungrier and the tongue in her mouth become longer and more flexible as it danced and caressed Esme’s monstrous cock. “Ahhh…” And then Esme tensed and Willow was gagging on a powerful eruption in her mouth that burnt like fire and literally boiled down her throat. Willow wailed and collapsed, writhing strangely as she was rocked by a tremendous orgasm! Willow shakily pushed luxurious green curls from her eyes to see she had a long emerald green serpents tail instead of legs. She was panting, the burning warmth in her belly and ache in her cunt begged for more. Willow lifted herself up on her six’s hands and looked up at Esme, “What issss your command Missstressss,” she hissed.

Esme smiled and opened her mouth but was interrupted…

“Vile Demon!” A girlish voice gushed. “I will smite you!”

Willow turned to see Farmer, now a girl, standing stiffly on limbs that bent slowly and woodenly, trying to drag her heavy bastard sword behind her. “Begone!”

Esme laughed and looked at Willow, “OCCUPY HER.”

Willow felt her will leave her again and she slithered across the room and tackled Farmer, burying her face in the doll-woman’s crotch and starting to lick. Farmer moaned whorishly and her limbs went instantly limp. “Ohhhhh!” She cried, “Use me! I’m just a doll! Fuck me!”

Even if Willow wasn’t Compelled she’d have difficulty stopping herself.

***

Kitten was having an absolutely fantastic time as she wriggled up the stairs after Esme. This game was far wilder than she’d anticipated and kept escalating deliciously. She loved her altered body, the strange feeling of tentacle limbs, the rubbing bouncing weight of her new chest, and the desperately insatiable lust of her flesh. Even the lack of arms was an erotic thrill! A girl could get used to this. And of course this body would definitely piss off daddy. Then there had been the fun of watching Esme turn herself into a demoness and remake the Templar into a living sex doll. And seeing the bitchy green witch debase herself as a horny naga creature had been simply delightful. Who knew that viridian prude could make such a sexy serpentine slut? Kitten couldn’t wait to fuck her. She licked her plush lips and felt one of her tentacles stroke her hungry cunt.

Kitten held in a moan and wondered if perhaps she had pushed the game too far? A half-possessed Esme was great fun, but she seemed intent on inviting something bigger and badder into herself and the world. And here they were about to burst into Goth’s office, the inner sanctum of a fallen but once fearsomely powerful Battlemage. Exactly how much danger was Kitten courting here? How far was she willing to let the game go? She gasped quietly as an orgasm rippled through her body. Kitten knew that as soon as Esme was neutralized play time would be over and she could kiss her sensuous new body goodbye. Would being the sex slave and consort to a Demoness really be that bad?

Esme stopped outside Goth’s door and raised her fist as if to knock, caught herself, nodded and made a pushing gesture instead. The door exploded inward and a napping Goth startled awake with a “Bloody fuck!”

Esme made a gesture and pushed again, wings flaring, and a wave of force slammed Goth into the wall. The old battlemage picked herself up gasping for breath, but started to gesture with her arms. Kitten felt magic gathering for a powerful spell. Fox stumbled into the room like a zombie and Esme shouted “Slave, DISARM HER!”

Goth gasped and watched in frustration as her arms withered away and melted into her shoulders. Kitten wiggled her own truncated shoulders and giggled, she could empathize. Goth’s robes burned away in a flash of fire and she staggered as her chest and torso crumpled, her body melting away until Goth’s head grew directly out of her hips, her collarbones fused into her pelvis. She stumbled and her weathered face grew younger and beautiful and haughty and her sagging legs and ass became toned and flawless. “Asmodian, you stupid arsehole, what the fuck is wrong with you!”

Esme laughed and grinned in triumph, “That felt exquisite! You always were a shitty little tyrant.”

“Say that over here so I can kick your arse.”

“Pathetic.”

Kitten giggled and Goth glared at her. “Having fun Mazorubeus?”

“Oh yes!” She purred, “and to think I was told this place would be dull.”

***

Esme felt pure malicious glee! Here was the high Lady Vithgoth, the queen of her torment and exile, cut down to a helpless plaything. She couldn’t stop smiling! She couldn’t wait to make her little Goth debase herself or dance a little jig. Or maybe she could torture her, not violently, but something monotonous like scanning pointless paperwork for months and months and months on end. Oh how she would make this woman suffer! Focus, Sweetness. “Right, of course.”

Goth nodded, “Not fully in the driver’s seat are you, Asmodian?”

“Silence! Do not make me take your mouth away too.”

“Always took you for an old nag, but thought you were at least smart enough to fall for the Demon thing twice.” Goth shrugged her hips and snorted, “Not often I overestimate someone…”

Esme felt a prickle of doubt that was swept away by a burst of anger. She took a long step into the room and spread her wings, her tail rising threateningly. This fucking woman! “Listen you!”

Goth said something quietly that Esme missed. “What did you say!?” She took another step closer.

“I said a little closer,” Goth repeated with a smirk. “BIND!”

And the filthy brown rug on the floor flashed into a pattern of glowing sigils arranged in a ring. A Circle of Holding! “No!” Esme screamed. She was fucking trapped! She lashed out with her claws and tail and hissed when they met nothing but frigid burning force! “You cunt!”

Smithrite blinked his eyes in confusion, “What’s happening? The fuck?”

“Glad you could finally join us,” Goth said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She nodded at a bureau and issued clipped instructions: “Top drawer. Right corner. Amulet. Bring it to me.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Esme snapped, baring her fangs.

Smithrite cringed and froze. Searched the room like a frightened rabbit.

“Today please,” Goth groaned and Fox stumbled back into motion. He opened the wrong drawer, and then the right one, and pulled out a heavy looking amulet made of platinum and amber. “Put it on me,” Goth snapped.

Smithrite scurried to comply and Kitten grappled him in her tentacles, “Not so fast Fox! I’m still playing…”

“Damnation Mazorubeus, now is not the time!”

Esme looked around furiously, snarling, there had to be a weakness! A way out of the trap! She had to get free! Smithrite fought and wriggled, and Kitten giggled and clung to him, tentacles binding his legs and slipping into his clothes. Goth sighed and trudged over to the wrestling pair and stuck out her neck. Smithrite struggled and squirmed and wiggled loose for a moment and dropped the amulet over Goth’s neck, but backwards so the amulet rested in the cleavage of her pert ass instead of on her throat. “Good enough.”

“No! Ahhhh!” Esme screamed and raged against her bonds. No, Sweetness, do something!

“Diabachukobyzouthabubaddon, I Name you and I Forsake you and I Banish you back to whence you came. BEGONE!

The amulet on Goth’s ass erupted in light and shattered and the air in the room rushed Eslewhere with the sharp tang of brimstone. Esme dropped to the floor. Where was she? How did she get here? She felt shakey and strange; her body different. “What happened?” she asked in a small uncertain voice.

“The Demon snared you again,” Goth said.

Esme gasped: her boss was nude and somehow only a head on a pair of surprisingly nice legs. She felt a weird stirring in her loins and a hungry lurch in her guts. “Did-did I do that to you?”

“You bloody wish,” Goth said.

“I can fix it,” Fox said meekly from where he was cowering. Esme looked at him and gasped, noticing that Catharine Mazorubeus was wrapped around him and seemed to be an erotic mixture of octopus and cat.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Kitten said sternly. The room filled briefly with a wet crunch as she calmly snapped Smithrite’s neck with her tentacles. “No takebacks.”

“Oh, fucking hells…”

***

Esme tried to look normal as she walked up toward the Haunted Mansion, wincing with every clop of her hooves on the cobblestones. She hoped her long skirt and matronly coat and big stupid hat hid her most obvious changes, but she suspected everyone could see the succubus body that she’d cursed herself with. She was told the Guild was working on a solution, but poor dead Fox Smithrite was far too powerful and his work couldn’t be easily undone by lesser mages. Best, she was advised, to assume her sexy demoness look was permanent. But who was she to complain? Compared to the others she’d gotten off rather lightly. Especially since she’d been the one assigning their forms. She clopped up the sagging stairs to the house and passed through the threshold.

“Hullo Esssme,” Willow hissed from her office. Esme peaked in to the find the green woman waving with two of her hands and smiling at her a bit shyly. She was wearing her beautiful green ringlets loose, a tight backless blouse that did nothing to hide her triple bosom, and a narrow skirt that hugged her hips before her body transitioned into her long serpentine lower body. She’d also painted her lips and eyes a striking shade of dark green, Esme noticed. Esme thought she looked radiant and part of her mind caught on the dream-like memory of Willow sucking her demonic cock. Esme squirmed and tried to ignore the burning lust of her body which never really went away. “Lovely to see you Willow,” Esme said while trying not to have an erection. Willow noticed and a dark green blush formed on her cheeks as she glanced away coquettishly.

“Get a room you two!” Squealed a grumpy girlish voice. Farmer was posed at her desk and glared daggers at Esme. “Caught between a horny Demoness and her pet Monstress!”

“Whatever ssshall a helpessssss dolly do?”

Farmer blushed prettily and rocked in her seat, “I’m a Templar!”

“Of courssse, dear.”

Esme shook her head fondly and clomped up to the second floor to her too empty office. She removed her coat, stretched her useless little wings, sat at her desk, and tried very hard not to notice the empty one next to her. Poor Fox Smithrite had been annoying and a dangerous fool, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Esme fingered the raw wound of her new Glyph of Banishment and Warding and felt guilty. She hadn’t been in control of herself when events spiraled out of control and that psychotic Mazorubeus bitch had been the true murderer, but Esme would always feel like if she hadn’t fucked up that Summoning Circle she’d not only still be a badass Wizardess but her hapless coworker would still be alive. Kitten Mazorubeus would have no doubt ended up in a Sanitorium regardless, but probably with fewer tentacles. Esme sighed, all she could do was keep moving forward one day at a time and count her blessings she was alive, free from the Oubliette, and still somehow allowed to be a Ghost. It wasn’t ideal, but it was her lot in life, at least until she gave up and let them Brand her.

Esme picked up an Alchemical ledger and felt the throb of her cunt and a distracting stiffness in her cock. She squirmed and wondered if Willow would perhaps be free for the evening…

“Asmodian! Get up here!”

Esme heard a foot stomping loudly in Goth’s office.

“My nose itches!”

***

The End

2

Re: The Haunted Mansion

The Revenant: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … 547ffeeeda

The Haunted Mansion
Book 2: The Revenant

Esme Asmodian walked through the small market square and tried to ignore the stares and watchful hush that followed her like a cloak. She knew what she looked like: a six foot tall woman with long silky black tresses, exaggerated curves, and a long high-heeled walk that drew a fanciful gaze. Of course, she was also cursed with a red scaled tail, uselessly small bat-like wings, and a crown of sharp red horns that curved back from her forehead. She forced herself not to hiss. Instead she calmly tugged on her lapels with red-clawed hands and kept walking, her hooves clopping loudly on the cobblestones.

“Wear your cute outfit,” she muttered to herself, “Just be confident…” Esme was wearing her brand new jacket with the clever wing seams and the fetchingly snug skirt with the opening for her tail. She grimaced, her habitual clothing of baggy hat, matronly coat, and billowing skirts hadn’t exactly made her blend in, but it disguised her most striking abnormalities. At least from the cursory glances of passing townsfolk. Now she was outright flaunting her new body, and gathering rather a lot more attention than she was comfortable with. “Willow, how do you do this?”

Esme thought of the wonderful morning she’d spent with Willow Branch, her secret lover and fellow Ghost, a green-skinned woman with three enormous tits, six dexterous arms, and a long sinuous tail instead of legs. A serpentine tail that had wrapped all around Esme like a constrictor as she’d driven her enormous ridged demonic cock into Willow, crushing the two women together in a tangle of passion. A tail that had slipped expertly inside Esme’s cunt and filled her to bursting as six hands clutched her sensitive ass, her tits, her face, as the two transformed women drove themselves to a frenzied orgasm. Esme felt a burning ache in her belly and a growing stiffness in her cock and forced herself to think of something less stimulating lest she pitch a tent in her new skirt.

Afterward Esme had watched Willow dress her long beautiful body and paint her face with dark green makeup. Before the Incident had trapped the Ghosts in their new bodies, Willow had been quiet and modest to the point of invisibility; if she hadn’t had emerald green skin from an earlier misadventure she would have disappeared into the world as effectively as if she’d cast a spell. Now Willow seemed almost aggressively confident, wearing specially crafted clothes that flirted with impropriety and emphasized instead of hid her alluring altered body. Esme found her gorgeous and sexy and brilliant and was increasingly envious of her ability to celebrate her new form. “How do you do it?” she’d asked as Willow finished arranging her curly dark green hair with four of her hands.

“Do what?” Willow had asked.

“Why are you so… confident now?”

Willow laughed “Perhapsss becaussse I’m sssexy and enormousss.” She flexed her tail and pushed her chest out to make the point. “Before I wasss the kind of little witch you’d burn at the ssstake,” Willow made claws of her six hands and grinned dangerously, “Now I’m the kind of monssstresssss that you sssend a hero to ssslay!” She tasted the air with her forked tongue and undid a couple buttons on her blouse to better display her double cleavage. “Besssidesss feeling horny all the time doesssn’t hurt.”

Esme had bit her lip and nodded, her own body was also cursed with a never-ending hunger. “You make it sound so easy…”

Willow lowered herself down to the cushion pile of their love nest and kissed Esme passionately on the mouth. “You’re a ssseductive creature yourssself. Embrace it.” She slithered to the door of her apartment and smiled at Esme, “You should wear your new clothesss today.”

“But…”

Willow hissed to cut her off, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh…”

And now Esme was in public and dressed like a daringly flirtatious young demoness and probably about to get arrested by a whole troop of Templar. She hurried her walk to a trot, turned down a shabby street, frightened a tramp, and approached a battered townhouse in ill repair. It was a narrow three-storey wooden structure with a worrying tilt, peeling paint, cracked windows, and a mansard roof loosing shingles like a balding man. This was the Haunted Mansion, which was neither Haunted nor a Mansion, but instead a purgatorial home for disgraced mages to harmlessly toil until they gave up their connection to magic. The place for Ghosts like her to suffer the daily struggle between tedium and The Brand. Esme sighed and her wings and tail drooped and she stepped heavily onto the sagging front stairs.

“You there! Halt!” Esme whirled, her hands reflexively curling to cast a Shield spell, and saw three Templar charging toward her. There were two Templar-standard men, thick necked and muscular and slightly stupid in the eyes, arms covered in runic blue tattoos. They were led by a severe older woman who looked like she was forged from steel. Fuck! Someone in the market must have dobbed on her! Esme sighed and held out her hands, “Templar, this isn’t what it looks like. There’s been a misunderstanding…”

“Ms. Asmodian,” said the steel woman, who was dressed in Templar armour with an added golden chain and extra-large pauldrons. Her grey streaked black hair was tied up in a braid like a fist. “I haven’t the time or interest in your nonsense.”

“So this isn’t about me?”

“Should it be?” A grey eyebrow is raised.

“Of course not!”

“Then please escort me to Lady Vithgoth. I would have words with your minder.”

“Right… this way.” Esme suppressed a shudder and ushered the intimidating woman through the door and into The Haunted Mansion.

***

Willow Branch was ignoring a port manifest held in one pair of hands while painting her fingernails green with another three hands and drinking a mug of tea with her final hand, but really she was concentrating on the tip of her long serpentine tail which was gently caressing the delicate ankle of her office mate.

“Branch… stop it…” Dolly Farmer whined. Willow ignored her and gave her ankle another stroke, sensing a delicious stiffness ripple through the former Templar’s sex mannequin body. Dolly was angelically beautiful with a heart shaped face, lush lips, huge expressive blue eyes, and a voluminous cascade of golden ringlets. She had a narrow elegant body with enormous gravity defying breasts and overtly wide hips generously padded with a round bottom. The entire fetching package was draped in an oversized old tunic that slid fetchingly off of one of her delicate shoulders. Dolly also had articulated limb joints like a doll and some sort of built-in biological corsetry under her soft skin. She could move herself, albeit stiffly, but when she became aroused her body grew less and less mobile until she became a helpless and rather enthusiastic sex doll. Willow wrapped her tail around her calf and squeezed. “Branch… Willow!”

“Yesss, Dolly?” Willow asked innocently.

Dolly pouted, “You’re doing it again.”

“Sssorry, mind of it’sss own.” She inched her tail upward, climbing Dolly’s leg to her thigh. Dolly blushed and trembled and her posture became totally straight as her body started to lock in place. Willow knew the proud former Templar was embarrassed by her body, but knew she loved their little games of Sisterly Affection too. Willow smirked internally: Dolly was developing quite the adorable submissive streak. She wondered if perhaps the male Templar Benjamin Farmer had enjoyed being a plaything as well. Willow gently brushed the tip of her tail across Dolly’s wet underwear.

“Commander Emilia Stone!” Dolly leapt to her feet to salute, but her elbows were already limp and her knees could no longer support her weight, so she toppled over to the floor with Willow’s tail still wrapped around her leg and lewdly disappearing inside her clothes.

An imposing older woman wearing full Templar plate armor under a blue and white tabard stared down at Dolly and grimaced. “At ease, Templar Farmer.”

Dolly managed to lift her head enough to see the Commander’s cavalry boots and blushed. “Thank you ma’am.”

Commander Stone sighed and rested her gauntleted hands on her hips, “Ms. Asmodian, if you please.”

“Right,” Esme said, ushering the Templar Commander up the creaking stairs and shooting Willow a look filled with equal parts puzzlement and amusement. Willow shrugged her top shoulders and winked at Esme. Esme frowned and galloped after the Commander.

Willow waited a moment or two and then gently inserted her tail into Dolly’s engorged cunt. Dolly moaned helplessly.

“Why Dolly, you’ve fallen down again…”

***

“Presenting! Commander Emilia Stone of the Order Templar!” Esme intoned in the pompous tones that Lady Vithgoth demanded.

Commander Emilia Stone strode forward and held out her arm for a handshake and then glanced slowly down and down and down to the smirking face of Lady Vithgoth which grew directly from the abbreviated woman’s seated hips. The Templar blanched when she noted the semi-retired battlemage’s complete lack of arms or torso and stiffly withdrew her hand. Goth simply raised an eyebrow and asked: “So what brings you to my Haunted Mansion of fuckups, Commander?”

“We’re having something of a Transmutation problem.”

Goth grinned and adjusted her combination shoulder-hips, “I hear that’s been going around.”

Stone cleared her throat, “Yes, well, it seems there’s a gang dabbling in illegal Transmutation magic for… recreational purposes.”

“Magical sex perverts,” Goth said with a nod. She recrossed her legs under her long dirty skirt.

“Indeed.”

“I didn’t realize that horny sex freaks warranted the attention of a Templar Commander. Sounds like the type of boring crap I give my idiots to keep them occupied.”

“Too exciting for us,” Esme said, wishing the paperwork on her desk was that risqué.

“True,” Goth said merrily.

Stone sighed, “Normally this would be a minor concern, but it seems these… magical sex perverts… have leveled up. We sent a team to apprehend a ringleader and they came out… altered.”

Goth laughed, “Shouldn’t your boys and girls be able to resist a little titty growth spell?”

“This was a lot more than a… titty growth spell,” Stone said coldly. “They look rather like you and your Ghosts.”

“Blimey,” Goth said, still grinning. “How unfortunate!”

“I’ll get to the point Lady Vithgoth,” Stone said, her patience obviously wearing thin. “Since my rank and file are apparently susceptible to powerful Transmutation and your Ghosts are already permanently locked into their cursed bodies, I’m assigning your… team to root out these…”

“Magical sex perverts.”

Commander Emilia Stone nodded, turned, and mounted a strategic withdrawal towards the exit.

***

“Well that went well,” Goth said.

“You think?” Esme asked.

“Sure, it’s not every day a top ranking Templar comes to you begging for your expertise in sex magic.”

“I think we were in different meetings.”

Goth ignored her. She leaned back as far as her reduced body allowed and sighed happily. “The bloody fucking Templar getting bested by magic perverts. Sometimes the world can still delight and surprise.”

Esme felt a smile tug at her lips, “Yeah…” She wasn’t too fond of the Templar either.

“Esme, fetch!” Goth said.

“What?”

With a flash of acrid brimstone a small red feminine imp appeared and scrambled across the room. The creature scaled a bureau of drawers and excavated a smoking pipe.

Esme scowled and her clawed hands closed into fists. “What the fuck is that!?”

“My Familiar, Asmodian. I got tired of relying on you to scratch my nose, so I summoned some helping hands.”

Esme put her hands on her hips and coiled her tail, “Why in the Realms did you name it Esme?”

“After you, obviously! It has a certain resemblance, don’t you think?” Goth opened her mouth. Esme the Imp inserted the pipe into her mistress’ mouth and spat fire to light the tobacco packed inside. Esme the human frowned while her boss took a long puff; the Imp had a bright red feminine little body with tiny boobs, a barbed tail, bat wings, and horns on its head. If the Imp sprouted a little infernal cock it might as well be Esme’s miniature doppelgänger. “Ha ha,” she said, decidedly unamused.

Esme the Imp withdrew the pipe and clambered onto the back of Goth’s chair. Goth blew out a plume of smoke at Esme the human and grinned. “Front row seats for all the humiliation.”

“So we’re going to help them?”

“You lot? Help!? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Goth smacked her lips, and kicked her bare feet up onto her desk, scattering papers and revealing the precise lavender shade of her panties. “But we can steer them toward their quarry.”

“You know who’s responsible?”

“Of course not. I’m not an Oracle.”

“But?”

Goth pointed at Esme with a big toe, “You’re going to fetch a Templar and go interview the High Archmage’s psychopathic brat.”

“Kitten Mazorubeus?” Esme cringed, trying not to remember being wrapped in her warm tentacles, the feeling of plunging her cock into the boiling wet embrace of her cunt, the sensation of hungry tentacles invading her cunt and anus and mouth, the joyful ecstatic mischief on Kitten’s beautiful face. “Why?”

“Because she blackmailed Smithrite, obviously.”

“Wait? What?” Poor dead Fox Smithrite who had transformed their bodies (at Esme’s possessed command) and then was murdered by Kitten in an effort to trap them in their current forms. “Kitten blackmailed Fox? When?”

“Likely just before you walked in on them playing sexy kitty cat makeover games and started your Demonic rampage.” Goth blinked, “Did you really think he voluntarily started using powerful Transmutation magic here inside my Haunted Mansion, where he was obviously going to get caught, just because a pretty girl flirted with him?”

“I guess so?”

“Have some respect for the dead!”

“Sorry.”

“I suspect the Mazorubeus Bitch spotted Smithrite doing Transmutation magic at an illegal club, and used that as a goad to get him to do whatever she wanted.”

“Fox Smithrite was performing Transmutation magic? I thought that was totally forbidden.”

“You can’t tell the greatest painter of his generation not to put brush to canvas and expect he’ll listen. Obviously he cheated.  How else was that fucking loser going to get himself laid?”

“You didn’t care that he was breaking the rules?”

“It wasn’t my wife he turned into a bitch. Or a dog.” Goth shrugged her hip/shoulders, “As long as he didn’t do anything stupid enough to change my suspicions into certainties, I was willing to let him get his freak making on.” Goth grimaced, “My calculus didn’t account for Catherine bloody Mazorubeus slithering into our lives, though.”

Esme chewed the tip of a claw, “So Kitten spotted Smithrite at a Tansmutation club… which means she must know where the clubs are?”

“Bravo Asmodian, you got there! Esme, clap for the girl, she’s earned it!” The Imp screeched and smacked it’s clawed little hands together. “Go collect a Templar babysitter and fuck off to the Sanatorium to probe your ex-coworker. And by probe, I mean interrogate. You can fuck her again on your own time.”

Esme frowned, she really didn’t want to see Kitten Mazorubeus again, unless perhaps the interaction was strictly sexual. And visiting the Sanatorium meant walking into the Templar Citadel, which was more than a little terrifying given her recent misadventures... “Couldn’t we send someone less… demony?” Esme asked.

Goth blinked and smiled, “Oh sure! I’ll send the big slithery one or the sex mannequin that thinks she’s still a soldier.”

“Well.”

Goth lifted a foot and waved at the doorway, “Stop sniveling and trot along…”

“And don’t come back until you find where the magical sex perverts are hiding!”

***

Esme balled her red scaled fists and flexed her useless wings, being this close to the Templar Citadel was discomfiting. Like most upstanding Wizards she’d always found the Templar unnerving, but since her two brushes with Demons she found them terrifying. Twice she’d Fallen and twice she’d Consorted, though neither time voluntarily exactly, but that was twice enough to be Branded or tossed into the Oubliette or both. Esme didn’t savor reminding the Templar that she was still at liberty and standing at threshold of their fortress dressed up like a sexy devil was begging for trouble. Esme regretted letting Willow talk her into wearing her special new outfit with the tail and wing openings…

“Halt! Who approaches!” Sang a pretty voice accompanied by giggles.

Esme looked around and saw a beautiful woman with blue hair grinning at her from inside the large fountain in the middle of the Citadel courtyard. Esme frowned, the woman had frilled fins like a fish where her ears should be. She cautiously approached, “Pardon me?”

“What’s your business here?” A second head appeared belonging to another beautiful woman with pink hair and ear-fins.

“I have an appointment?” Esme said, her tail twisting in confusion. Why was she being challenged by women swimming in the Citadel fountain? She stretched onto tippy-hoof, peeked into the pool, and saw the women were… mermaids? Like from a fairy tail? Two beautiful mermaids, splendidly nude, one with a fishy tail of pale blue shimmering scales where her legs ought to be and the other a coral pink one. “What are you doing here?”

The blue mermaid giggled and pushed herself out of the fountain so that her enormous bare breasts flopped onto the stone edge. “We’re on guard duty,” she said brightly.

“I didn’t realize the Citadel was recruiting winsome fish.”

The pink one swam up onto her friend’s back and gave her a hug, smooshing her pillowy jugs between their lithe bodies. “We’re Templar!”

Esme bit her lip and fought the sudden urge to go for a swim. “Templar Seashell and Coral?”

The two mermaids giggled and the blue one splashed Esme with her tail. “No, silly! I’m Templar Brick and this is Templar Mortar!”

“We’ve met before…” Pink duhhed, “Don’t you recognize us?”

Which obviously Esme didn’t, she’d definitely remember meeting these two sexy fish, but she did recognize those names. She frowned thinking of “The Masons”: the two large thick-necked men with swords and taciturn scowls who’d turned up at the Haunted Mansion after her Demonic Relapse. The hard grim men the Templars sent to stomp mages back into their place. These pretty mermaids seemed like entirely different, and according to the warm tingles in her belly, vastly improved creatures. “Sorry, you’ve both had quite the makeover.”

The two mermaids giggled happily and blushed beautifully. Esme adjusted her skirt and wondered if she should have a seat and dip her hooves into the pool?

“Step away from the mermaids,” said an unimpressed voice.

Esme was confronted by a severe looking woman wearing a Templar standard scowl. The Templar was tall but narrow for a soldier, with a slim angular face, high cheekbones, and a delicate chin. Her eyes were a very dark blue and her long platinum blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She was wearing the Templar-about-town uniform of scale mail under a blue and white tabard with steel paldrons and heavy gauntlets. She had a longsword belted at her hip but had apparently opted to leave the crossbow and shield back in her closet. Esme suspected this Templar could be quite pretty if she let her hair down, smiled, and lost at least half the armor. The Templar grunted. “I’m Templar Astrid Steel.”

“Esme Asmodian.”

“I know who you are, Demoness.”

Esme sighed and felt her tail involuntarily lash. She’d been possessed by a Demon, not actually one herself… but with her current succubus-inspired body it was hardly worth the argument. If the horseshoe fit and all that. “I take it you are to be my escort for this endeavor?”

Astrid the Templar’s face stayed sour, “begrudgingly.”

“Charmed.” Esme nodded at the mermaids, who were now frolicking in their pool and tittering. “You know, you could learn a thing or two about people skills from your fine new guardians.”

“They’re an embarrassment.”

“I think they add an exotic and welcoming touch to the Citadel.”

Astrid sighed, “We didn’t know where else to put them.”

“It’s hard to believe those are Brick and Mortar.”

Astrid nodded solemnly, “It’s a shame.”

“I was actually going to say the opposite.”

Astrid growled and started to stride away toward the adjoining park and Sanitarium. Esme trotted after her, hooves clopping on the stone. “So what exactly happened to them?”

“There have been reports of folks abusing Transmigration spells for… prurient enjoyment. We’d received a tip that one of the ringleaders was lurking in the cellar below a burlesque house, trading certain enhancements for sanctuary. I was tasked to infiltrate the establishment and..”

Esme grinned, “Oh! Tell me about your lewd costume! Your sexy routine!”

“Can we not?”

“Did it involve deep-throating suggestive vegetables? Swords of a certain length?” Esme felt her cock twitch, Astrid seemed like the kind of woman who could discipline a gag reflex.

“I was tasked with infiltrating the establishment,” Astrid said bullishly. “And had made significant inroads.”

“How significant?” Esme asked playfully, making Astrid blush. Why was teasing her so much fun?

“Regardless, someone in the chain of command got impatient and ordered a raid.” Astrid face somehow grew grimmer. “And that’s when things went off the rails.”

“The Mason’s kicked in the door to a perverts’ nest and were turned into sexy fish?”

“To start with,” Astrid nodded and then started counting gauntleted fingers: “Templar Porter is three feet tall… and a woman, Templar Alder has roots and leaves, Templar Cooper is a quadruped, and Templar Shepard’s tits are so big she can’t even walk…”

Esme opened her mouth to make a joke about how that sounded like an excellent troop for a new burlesque review, but drew up short when she saw the naked daggers in Astrid’s eyes. Probably best not to joke about injured comrades, even if they were Templar. “I’m sorry,” Esme said instead.

Astrid grunted.

“So the Templar are vulnerable?”

“So the evidence would show.”

“But us Ghosts are immune.”

“In theory,” Astrid grumbled.

Esme gave her best fancy grin, “Glad to finally be of service!”

“It’s the least you could do to make amends, Demoness.”

Esme squirmed her little wings and frowned. “Do you have a personal problem with me, Templar Steel?”

“We’re here.”

***

Astrid pushed open the heavy Sanatorium doors and tried to quell her anger and unease. What in the hells was Esme Asmodian doing there? Was this some style of cruel joke? She glanced at the statuesque succubus and remembered her rampage, her first one, when Asmodian had carelessly gotten herself possessed and sundered the Westward Tower. Astrid had joined the defense and fought through a pack of infernal hounds, battled enthralled citizens and wizards, and eventually had her Will stolen from her. She remembered stripping off her armour and crawling into the writhing pit of bodies… unbearable pleasure…

“Miss Templar? I asked if I could help you?” A nattily dressed receptionist looked at her with concern.

Astrid blinked her eyes, “My apologies, yes. We are here to speak with Miss Catherine Mazorubeus about an urgent matter.”

Esme leaned in and hissed, “Templar business.”

Astrid shot Esme a glare, “We think she might have some critical information about an ongoing investigation.”

“Well…” The receptionist frowned at Esme, clearly disproving.

Astrid sighed, “She’s with me.” Alas. “It really is important that we speak with Miss Mazorubeus”

“Heilbronn, it’s alright.” Astrid turned to a see a young woman approaching wearing the robes of a Sanatorium Warder. She had an angular freckled face and red hair tied back in a simple braid. She rested her hand on her chest, “I’m Warder Nicolene Thromaire,” then she nodded at a small woman with a frizzy cloud of mousey hair and large circular spectacles following in her wake like a duckling, “and this is my Apprentice Hilde Barris.”

“Hullo,” Hilde said timidly.

“We are overseeing Kitten’s treatment,” Thromaire continued. “We’d be happy to escort you to her suit and assist with your interaction.”

“Assist?” Esme asked, taking the words out of Astrid’s mouth.

“Supervise,” Thromaire corrected. She nodded at Esme, “As I’m sure you’re aware, Kitten can be… difficult at times. We have made tremendous progress, but I’m concerned with how she might react to your sudden appearance.”

Astrid nodded, the sudden appearance of a Templar could be unnerving enough even without a succubus in tow. “Your help is appreciated. Please lead on.”

Warder Nicolene Thromaire and little Hilde led them deeper into the Sanatorium through clean white hallways, up brightly lit stairways, and past door after door after door made of heavy wood carved with protective runes. Finally they paused outside another reinforced door which Thromaire knocked gently upon. “Kitten, it’s Nicki, I’ve brought some people who want to ask you some questions. Is that alright?”

Astrid closed her fist and was about to demand they be allowed inside the cell, but she saw Esme frown and shake her head. “Wait” her lips said silently.

“Nicki! What a delightful surprise! I’d be delighted to entertain guests! Bring them in! Bring them in!”

“Hilde please wait here,” Warder Thromaire said quietly. The Warder gave Astrid and Esme a long look and then unlocked and unwarded the door to allow them entry. Waiting for them in the bare room was Kitten Mazorubeus in all her strange and erotic glory. She was very beautiful once, Astrid had heard, and she could still see it in her fine featured face and the elegant curve of her neck, but she had turned herself into a wriggling, dripping, vulgar aberration. Kitten Mazorubeus stood on a coiling, questing tangle of six smooth black tentacles instead of legs, split wide at the hips to display the obscene glistening bulge of a permanently aroused and prominent cunt. Kitten’s chest was dominated by six enormous breasts, each capped with a cunt instead of a nipple, that wept with arousal and dribbled down her body. She was completely armless, her shoulders ending in smooth elegant lines as if she’d never had upper limbs, and instead of hair Kitten had a dozen black tentacles that squirmed around her shoulders and down her back. Almost as an afterthought Kitten’s face had a few feline decorations: a pink nose and whiskers, pointed black-furred cat ears, sharp little fangs, and golden slit eyes that watched the world with a cool detachment. Kitten studied her guests for a moment, then her generous lips broke open in a delighted smile and her tentacles wiggled happily. “Esme Asmodian! Why, it’s been ages! What possessed you to come for a visit? If I knew you were coming I’d have gotten dressed or made tea!” Kitten smirked at Astrid, “Oh and you’ve brought along a Templar! What a puzzling development.” Kitten pouted, “Have I been naughty? Are you here to punish me?”

Warder Thromaire’s voice was gentle, coddling, “Kitten, dear, the Templar wants your help. You aren’t in any trouble.”

Kitten meowed and swatted the ground petulantly with a tentacle. “That’s a shame, trouble is always so entertaining!”

Astrid tried not to shudder as her skin tingled uncomfortably. She cleared her throat, “We are here to ask what you know about an illegal Transmutation ring that is operating in the city.”

Kitten’s eyes became slits and she hissed, “Why would I help you, Templar?” She looked away in catty anger and Astrid saw the puckered red fractal cicatrix of The Brand burnt into the nape of Kitten’s neck. “I think I’ve had rather enough of you and your ilk. You can all go drown in your armour.”

“Kitten,” Esme said carefully. “I know you know where the Transmutation clubs are. You saw Fox Smithrite in one and used that as leverage to force him into playing a transformation game with you… well, before things got out of hand.” Esme’s tail twisted and her wings clenched, Astrid could tell she was barely keeping her composure. “You need to tell us where you saw Fox. People are getting hurt.”

Kitten looked at Esme, pointedly ignoring Astrid. “Oh Esme, you know I don’t care much about the greater good.”

Esme smiled ruefully and nodded, “True.”

Kitten tilted her head, “I like your outfit.”

“Thank you, it’s new.” Esme said straightening her jacket. “You look good too.”

Kitten grinned and writhed, pushed out her six tits with their oozing cunts. “I know.”

Esme blushed and fidgeted, “Look Kitten, we really want to know where the Transmutation club is. Someone there is powerful enough to transform Templar and already turned a whole squad into freaks.” Esme gave Astrid a glance, “I think it’s very likely that if you point the Templar in the right direction, a few more might be joining us in the… unorthodox category.”

“Oh… that’s interesting.”

“Do we have a bargain?”

“Meow… Not quite.”

Astrid sighed, “What do you want Mazorubeus?”

Kitten smiled and purred, “I’ll tell you where to go if Esme fucks me again.”

Astrid looked at Esme who looked at Astrid who looked at Esme. Esme frowned and seemed to be reminiscing about the aforementioned fucking and opened her mouth to say… “Absolutely not,” Astrid snapped.

“…was what I was about to say.” Esme said, blushing a little.

“Clearly.”

Kitten mewled and her tentacles curled under her in a huff, “Then we’re at an impasse.” She bit her lip and grinned coyly, “Unless you fancy a shag, Templar Steel.” A plump black tentacle wormed between Kitten’s complex cleavage and penetrated one of the vaginal orifices on her tits.

“Kitten,” Warder Nicolene Thromaire said gently, “We’ve talked about this.” She reached out and stroked Kitten’s bare armless shoulders, “Right now these games you like to play are very problematic. It would help our cause if you told the Templar what she needs to know. Please be forthright.”

Kitten frowned and the tentacles on her hair squirmed affectionately around the Warder. “Alright, but only for you, Nicki.”

Astrid nodded at Warder Thromaire, grateful for her voice of reason. She glanced at Esme and saw the Demoness was still distracted to uselessness. No wonder the High Archmage’s daughter had managed to start a riot in the Haunted Mansion. Bloody Wizards. Astrid focused on Kitten and reiterated: “The Transmutation club, we need a location.”

“There’s a modest printshop in the Western Artisan district called The Indigo & Carmine Press. By day it specializes in publishing imaginative smut, but by night it’s known to host bawdy gatherings for those with… unorthodox appetites.”

“Would these appetites include a deviant interest in Transmutation magic?”

Kitten purred, “Sometimes.”

“And these gatherings?”

“The party doesn’t start until after dark. Don’t be early.”

Astrid nodded at Kitten and again at Warder Thromaire, “Thank you for the information.”

Kitten grinned playfully, “Esme, come see me if you change your mind about fucking.” She bit her lip, “You too Templar Steel.”

***

“What the fuck Asmodian!?”

Esme frowned, “What?”

“Endangering Templar?”

“I told her what she wanted to hear. If I’d been given the Brand and locked in the Sanatorium I’d want to hurt the Templar too, and I’m a much kinder person than Mazorubeus.”

“She should consider herself lucky!” Astrid spat. “If there was any justice she would’ve been thrown in the Oubliette.” Astrid scowled at Esme, “Same with you.”

“Your pardon?”

“You’re a danger, Asmodian! Twice consorting with Devils, twice hurting everyone around you. How long until you succumb a third time? You look like you’re eager for it.” Astrid glowered, “If I had any say in the matter you’d already be Branded and locked away in a deep dark hole.”

Esme’s clawed hands flexed, “Is this personal?”

Astrid remembered the sensation of being joyfully penetrated by two men while she buried her face between a strange woman’s thighs, she remembered slurping cum out of someone’s asshole while someone else clenched their fist inside her cunt, she remembered rolling on the ground desperately humping another woman while a dozen men ejaculated all over them, she remember a feeling of happiness so encompassing that it nearly obliterated her. She wasn’t sure if she was more ashamed of having performed so many filthy acts or how good it had felt to embrace nymphomania. She was terrified she’d never feel so alive again. She growled at Esme, “Something like that.”

“Well…” Esme crossed her arms and looked away, “Compose yourself, Templar. We have work to do.”

“We?” Astrid frowned, “I am going to inform my Commander of the location of the club, and you are going to return to your vile little Haunted Mansion.”

Esme smirked, “Are you really going to take the word of Kitten Mazorubeus to your masters without verifying that it’s true?”

***

From the shadows up the street Esme watched a three-legged woman in a revealing dress and a handsome man with a long tail knock softly on the back door to The Indigo & Carmine Press. A towering bouncer with bullish horns growing from his head studied the couple and ushered them within. “This is the place,” Esme said.

“So the Mazorubeus bitch was telling the truth.”

“Miraculous.”

Esme shrugged herself out of her jacket and stretched out her wings. She unbuttoned the bottom half of her shirt and tied it off snugly just below her large breasts, and then opened a few top buttons for good measure. Her blouse was already basically backless, so she just needed to fix her skirt. “Templar, your dagger please?”

Astrid frowned, “What are you doing?”

“Infiltrating the party,” Esme said, with a raised eyebrow. “We can’t exactly go in there dressed for work. I need to borrow a knife.”

Astrid handed Esme a long straight blade. Esme sighed and then slit the sides of her skirt from hip to hem along each leg. The skirt was still too long but Esme didn’t dare cut it any shorter since she’d given up on underwear fitting her infernal genitals. Too short a skirt was courting trouble. She handed the dagger back to Astrid and adjusted her hips. “Templar Steel, you’ll have to lose the armour and breaches.”

Astrid blushed and looked like she was going to protest, but then visibly conceded. Astrid turned her back to Esme and started to strip. As her paldrons, tabard, and scalemail were removed, they revealed that Astrid had a strong but lean body, less muscular than most soldiers and more like a tall dancer. It was strange to think a Templar’s body was elegant, but Esme knew they couldn’t all be bruisers. Besides, a keen mind and strong will were better assets than brawn anyway. Esme felt a warm ache in her belly and her pulse in her cock; if Astrid Steel wasn’t a Templar, Esme might fancy fucking her. Such a shame. Soon Templar Steel had stripped to wearing only a black bandeau over her small breasts, a hip hugging pair of braies, and her heavy riding boots. Esme tapped her chin with a claw, “Alright, we can work with this, but we’re going to have to do something about all those bothersome Templar tattoos.”

Astrid crossed her rune-covered arms, “What are you proposing?”

“Tell me Templar Steel, do you fancy polka-dots or stripes?”

***

“I look stupid,” Astrid grumbled. She grimaced at the illusionary spots on her skin. Optimistically they made her look like an aspirational leopard or one of those spotted guard dogs, but she suspected the spots mostly made her look like a cow.

“You look fine,” Esme said, giving her a pleased smile.  “Besides, I’m sure they have dim lighting inside.”

“Moo,” Astrid said glumly.

“Allow me to do the talking,” Esme said, “and lose the sword.” She stepped out from their hiding place and set off confidently down the alley, swaying her hips and tail, and putting some extra bounce into her trot. Astrid boggled for a moment: Esme was like a creature reborn. The sculpted curve of her spine was visible through her backless shirt, the dance of her hips and tail, the way her hooves stretched her calves and lengthened her stride… Astrid shook her head and scurried to catch up. Esme undid her hair and shook it out, brushed it back behind her horns, and smiled at Astrid. “You ready?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Good.” Esme wrapped her tail tightly around Astrid’s wrist and tugged her along in her wake. Astrid blushed and was going to protest or yank her hand free, but Esme was banging on the door. Bullhorns appeared and glowered at the women. “What’d’ye want?”

Esme licked the air with a forked tongue, “To have a good time…”

Bullhorns frowned at Esme who flared her wings and pushed out her tits. “I think I fulfill the special dress code.”

The bouncer leered at her hooves and tail, breasts and claws, wings and horns, and nodded. He glanced over Astrid in her underwear and spots and looked less enthused. Astrid yanked Astrid’s hand up with her tail and squeezed her wrist, “She’s with me.”

Bullhorns shook his head, but let them pass inside. “No trouble.”

“Moo,” Astrid said.

***

Esme released Astrid’s wrist as soon as they were clear of the bouncer and relaxed her wings. They were in a modest warehouse filled with aging printing presses and pallets of papers and partially completed books. There didn’t seem to be a party or any sign of the three-legged woman and her tailed escort. Esme could hear music though, the strum of a lute and a pipe and rather a lot of wild drumming. Astrid elbowed her and pointed to an open floor hatch, “There.”

Esme hooked the Templar’s arm, enjoyed the way Astrid’s body tensed at proximity, and led her to the hatch. It opened into a large vault below the printshop, perhaps an old Thieves Guild warren. The music was definitely coming from below, along with the sound of happy laughter and scents of tobacco and cannabis and sweat. Esme rubbed her cheek against Astrid’s making her flinch, and nodded at the ladder, “After you, Speckles.”

***

Astrid hastily climbed down the ladder telling herself she wasn’t fleeing Esme. She was advancing toward the foe. She stepped off the bottom of the ladder and turned to see a vault packed absolutely full of merrymakers. The large room was lit with dim magical lanterns giving the space a warm amber glow and creating a fringe of welcoming shadows. There was a long bar along one wall, small tables along another, and a raised stage at the back with musicians and a dancer. A nude dancer, with tiger stripes and a long tail and six pert breasts on her chest. She shook her hips in the rhythmic orbits of an exotic belly dance while her long feline tail lashed behind her. Mazorubeus’ information seemed accurate. “Moo,” she said grimly.

Astrid flinched as she was batted on the head with a tail. “Out of the way!” Esme hissed from above. Astrid stepped aside and Esme dropped gracefully to her hooves. She surveyed the space and nodded at a three-legged woman in a promiscuous dress. She grinned, showing her fangs, “I think we found the party.”

Astrid nodded, “Let’s find our rogue Transmutation mage…”

***

Esme found herself swaying along with the music and smiling at the partygoers. The Thieves Guild vault was filled with people, mostly normal humans dressed in skimpy outfits, but here and there was someone with an alteration. The woman with three legs and her tailed gentleman were snogging, while another woman with four arms clapped along to the beat, and one of the bartenders had wolffish ears and a wagging tail. Esme caught a handsome man staring at her, not with disgust or fear, but with friendly lust in his eyes. She danced by him, giving her hips a kick and letting the tip of her tail brush his trousers as she passed. She smiled, she was attracting a lot of attention; her succubus body was desirable here, admired even. Esme wasn’t a freak, or still was, but that was celebrated in this crowd. Esme caught a pretty girl watching her, waved with her fingers, and grinned as the girl blushed and touched her hair. Esme felt a twinge in her belly and the familiar ache in her cock; she could get laid here. Easily. Esme let herself whirl and then stopped to watch as the tigergirl dancer gyrated her hips and shook her six tits as a finale to her performance. The crowd applauded and the dancer sketched a pantomime curtsy.

“The Enchanting Elsie!” said a man stepping onto the stage to join her. The Ringmaster was dressed in black formal wizard’s robes with a silver trim that matched his hair and goatee. “Always such a wild time when you perform, my dear!” Elsie the Tigergirl preened and skipped to the side of the stage, where she sat on the edge, and posed elegantly with her long legs dangling into the audience.

“But now!” The Ringmaster said, rubbing his long-fingered hands together. “It is time for our next demonstration! How about a warm welcome for the Beautiful Sapphire!” The crowd applauded and a nude woman walked shyly onto the stage. She was pretty in an everyday sort of way, slender and willowy, with pert breasts and an unexpected penis. She also had shockingly blue hair and glowing electric blue eyes that spoke of magical intervention. Esme wondered if perhaps Sapphire had formerly been a Samuel. Sapphire stood anxiously on the stage and the Ringmaster spread his hands, “Behold!”

The Ringsmaster started to chant and Esme felt a swirl of magical currents pull towards him. A large amulet or talisman hanging at his throat began to glow with a sickly green light and the air around the stage grew darker. The Ringmaster clutched the talisman and she could see the bones of his hand illuminated. He cried out, thrust out his hand, and crackling tendrils of green energy raced around Sapphire’s body. “Behold!”

Sapphire gasped and her tits swelled, expanding from pert mounds to heavy full teardrops that filled her chest. She clutched them and moaned and her cock grew hard. The green energy flared and her hips and ass started to enlarge, her lower body gaining fat and muscle and… a tail! A shocking blue equine tail wiggled free from her growing ass and cascaded down to the floor. Sapphire made a noise like a whinny and her legs became bulkier, lengthened and buckled, reversed, and forced her to stand on her toes as her feet elongated into heavy hooves. Her ears lengthened and stretched, migrated up her head, and her blue hair styled itself into a wild azure mane. Tongues of green energy crawled over her body and a thin coat of white fur crawled up her legs and split into black stripes like a zebra. Sapphire threw back her head and cried out in ecstasy as her human cock turned shiny black and expanded, growing wider and longer, and slightly beastial, caught somewhere between a human and a stallion. Her cock spasmed and thick ropes of semen shot off the stage. “Behold!”

The Ringmaster closed his fist and the green energy stopped. Sapphire was panting, shifted uncertainly on her new hooves. She had been turned into some sort of well-hung and busty zebra satyress! She was beautiful and looked flush and happy. Esme’s own cock was hard and she could feel a wet heat in her cunt. Fuck, that was hot! She knew she was here stop this, but an increasingly large part of her wanted to stay and join the party…

“You! You’re under arrest!”

Fuck.

***

“You! You’re under arrest!” Astrid shouted from her perch on a table. She pulled a dagger out of her boot and pointed it in the direction of the Rogue Wizard. She wished she had her sword. And her armour. Astrid waved her little blade, “On the Authority of the Templar Order! This party is finished! Disperse!”

People gasped and scrambled away from Astrid, started to rush for the escape ladder, clearing space towards the stage. The Rogue Wizard made fists and glowered at her, “Never! Templar Scum!” He started chanting and gathered that strange green energy in his amulet. “Elsie! Defend me!” The pretty tigergirl was on her feet, looking frightened and confused. “Whot?” The Rogue Wizard gestured and pumped green lightening into her lithe body which ballooned with muscle. The six-breasted dancer roared as her face warped and became bestial, growing a tiger muzzle and fangs. She rapidly gained height as her arms lengthened and hands became meaty clawed paws. Her back arched and her legs twisted into powerful hindlimbs, while a thick coat of tiger fur grew over her form. She dropped to her paws and growled, tail lashing, six breasts heaving. Elsie had become more tiger than woman. “Shit.”

Elsie leapt off the stage, hurtling toward Astrid in a bounding run. Astrid jumped off the tabletop and rolled, and Elsie crashed into the furniture, knocking over the table and smashing a chair. Astrid came up holding her dagger and a broken chair leg like a club, and Elsie was back on her paws, eyes shining with manic glee. “Templarrrrr,” she growled, her tail twitching. Elsie pounced and Astrid ducked and bashed her with the table leg. Elsie roared and lashed out with her claws, barely missing Astrid, but catching her bandeau and slashing it open. Astrid stumbled back, her bare breasts shining with sweat. “Here Kitty, Kitty…”

The tiger monstress prowled closer, teeth bared, growling, and then she yowled in pain and promptly flopped over, smoking and twitching…

***

Esme grabbed the transformed Elsie by the tail, spoke an arcane command, and cast Shocking Grasp into the tigress. Elsie yowled and convulsed, collapsed to the ground, and twitched weakly. The air filled with the scent of burnt fur. Esme nodded at Astrid, “Keep moving…”

Astrid nodded.

“Nice tits.”

Astrid blushed.

On stage The Ringleader was transforming Sapphire into another guardian. The pretty zebra satyress was growing bulkier, gainig heavy muscle and height. She whinnied and her face pushed out into a long Zebra muzzle and her entire body became covered in black and white striped fur. Sapphire snorted and her cock grew larger and fully equine, a black spear the length of Esme’s arm. “Stop them!” The Ringmaster shouted. Sapphire tossed her equine head and cracked together the heavy hooves replacing her hands. “My pleasure,” she rumbled.

Sapphire dropped off the stage and pawed the ground with her hooves, snorted heavily, lowered her head, and charged. Astrid set her feet prepared to meet the attack head on, a half naked warrior heroine. Esme rolled her eyes, sketched out the parameters of a quick spell, and touched the ground. Slick Grease manifested in a smear across the floor just as Sapphire charged onto it. She kicked her hooves, fell onto her face, careened across the magical oil, smashed heavily into the bar, and groaned. Esme, who’d had her own behooved mishaps, winced in sympathy. She whipped her tail at Astrid, “Keep moving!”

Astrid clambered onto the bar and Esme murmured a spell, and then ran effortlessly up the wall onto the ceiling, her hooves clinging to the stone like a spider. Esme and the Templar rushed towards the stage, almost there. The Ringmaster shouted something and a beam of green energy flashed past them. Something howled and Astrid was grabbed by the bartender, now a huge wolffish brute of a creature, like a fairytale werewolf. Astrid was lifted off her feet, kicked her spotted legs helplessly. The transformed bartender snapped and growled, and Astrid weakly tried to whack her assailant with her chair leg club. Esme frowned, “Templar! Throw your stick!”

“What!?”

“Just do it!” Esme gathered magic in a complex gesture, pushed a spell of Compulsion on the werewolf bartender, and bade her “FETCH!” right as Astrid threw her club across the bar. The bartender dropped Astrid and bounded after the stick, tail wagging.

Esme smiled, “Good girl.”

***

“Good girl,” Esme Asmodian said from her perch on the ceiling, looking far too smug for Astrid’s liking. That comment better have been directed at the wolf bitch. Astrid ran to the end of the bar and leapt from the end. She was nearly to the stage, nothing but a small dancefloor between her and the Rogue Wizard. Astrid pointed her dagger at the mage, “You’re under arrest!”

“I think it is you who is about to be… arrested!” The Rogue Mage’s hands and amulet erupted in green energy. He made a grand gesture and thrust his hands at Astrid, releasing a bolt of Transmutation.

“Shit!” Astrid dived out of the way and the green bolt just barely missed. Fuck, she needed to find cover!

“Ah-ha!” The Rogue Wizard said and shot another beam at her.

Astrid leapt backwards and landed on magical grease. She slid, slipped, and flopped to the ground. “Fuck!”

“Got you now!” The Rogue Wizard made a show of gathering his magic and released a storm of green lightening. Astrid closed her eyes and braced for the worst….

And then heard something heavy hit the floor in front of her…

***

“Fuck!”

Esme watched Astrid slip and fall down, then saw The Ringleader preparing to blast her with transforming magic. The asshole was milking it. Without really thinking about it Esme took three running steps across the ceiling, dropped her Spiderclimb spell, and fell just in time to intercept the bolt of green energy with her body. Strange magic slammed into her, enveloped her. Esme threw out her little wings to stop her fall, but they did absolutely nothing, and she slammed into the floor hard enough to knock her breath out.

“Fucking hells…” She pushed herself up onto her knees and elbows aware of rivulets of green lightening dancing over her body. Her skin tingled… but that was all. She didn’t feel different and a quick survey confirmed she was still her sultry succubus self. She really was immune to Transmutation magic. Thank the gods! She climbed shakily to her hooves and smiled her fangiest smile at The Ringleader. “Oh you are so fucked.”

Esme stretched out her clawed hands and advanced on the stage… and then grunted as she was knocked to the ground by a flying tackle.

***

Astrid watched Esme dive in front of the magical bolt, slam into the floor, stand back up, and immediately be taken down again by a pouncing tigress. Astrid carefully lifted herself off the slick ground; she guessed it was still up to her. The Rogue Wizard was grinning at Esme and the tigress. Distracted. Astrid sprinted at the stage, hoping to close on the Rogue Wizard before he could cast another spell. She quickly pulled herself onto the stage and was immediately grabbed by the muscular arms of the bullish bouncer, now swollen into a hulking minotaur. “Fucking got ‘er,” He grunted.

Astrid twisted and kicked but the Bouncer held her fast, his arms crushing her chest like bands of iron, squeezing the air out of her.

“Oh! Finally!” The Rogue Wizard smiled cruelly. “You stupid fucking Templar cow! When I’m finished with you, you’ll be nought but cattle with udders too swollen to move! I’m going to enjoy this!”

The minotaur snorted, “Sounds hot.”

“Don’t spoil my moment.”

Astrid flailed and hissed and the Rogue Wizard started to cast his spell, drawing in sickly green energy…

***

“Don’t spoil my moment.” Asshole.

Esme was smashed to the floor by a heavy growling feline who reeked of scorched fur. She fought to get free but was pinned flat. If she didn’t do something Astrid was going to be horribly transformed… which would that be so horrible? Maybe an udder would fix her attitude. But no, she had to stop this! The Ringleader was pulling in magic to form a powerful spell, but overdoing his casting too, showing off. Esme bucked and fought, what could she do? She had to break his concentration! Cut off the spell! She had a hand free…

Esme barked a word of power, made a fist full of magic and threw open her hand. Five Magic Missiles exploded from her fingertips and screamed across the room. One slammed into The Ringleaders shoulder, dislocating it, the other four smashed into his chest, burning four deep smoking holes through his body. The Ringleader shrieked and gurgled and collapsed, his spell fading unfinished.

“Fuck!” The Minotaur grunted, letting go of Astrid who dropped to her knees and gasped a deep breath.

“Simon!” Yelped Elsie the tigress.

“Get the fuck off of me, or you’re next,” Esme hissed.

“Right…” Elsie said and carefully lifted her frightfully large body off Esme. Elsie had tears in her eyes and looked more like a frightened dancer than a monstrous predator. The werewolf bartender slinked up, table leg clutched in her mouth. Her tail was tucked and she emitted a piteous whine. The Tigress hugged the wolf and sniffled, “Do-does this mean we’re stuck like this?”

“Maybe,” Esme said with a twinge of sympathy. She stood up and fixing her ruined skirt to hide her exposed devilish cock, “Welcome to the club.”

***

Astrid gasped for breath and tried not to cry. Holy fuck that was too close! She’d almost been turned into something… something that didn’t even bear consideration. But she’d been rescued by the demoness, by Esme Asmodian, and she was still herself. Everything was going to be alright, even if it felt like she’d broken a rib. She crawled to her feet and saw Esme picking over the dead Rogue Wizard. “What are you doing?” She gasped.

“Checking for clues,” Esme said without looking up. A fat coin purse slipped into her robes as well as a few magical trinkets.

“You killed our only lead.”

“Thank you for saving me from being a horny cow.”

Astrid winced, “Yes, thank you.”

Esme hooked a clawed finger under the amulet and slipped it off the dead wizard. Astrid recalled that it had blazed with that strange green transformational magic. “What’s that?”

“A clue.”

***

3

Re: The Haunted Mansion

Templar Astrid Steel glowered, “When you said you had an expert contact, this was not what I was expecting.”

Willow Branch smiled pleasantly and ignored the Templar. She held the talisman between a pair of fingers and inspected it carefully. It was a beautifully crafted pewter amulet hung on a plain silver chain. Willow traced the whorls of the vaguely floral, vaguely cephalopodal metal casing and the hard bumps of tiny inset emeralds. This was all set dressing for the magically blazing core contained within a glass reliquary. Willow flicked her forked tongue and delicately unlatched the amulet like a love locket and pulled out what appeared to be a small human bone covered in tiny arcane script. “Ssssss…”

“The Ringleader was manifesting his Transmutation through his amulet,” Esme said. “When I held it I could sense the raw magical potential inside.”

“Yessss,” Willow agreed, stroking the talisman with her fingers and feeling the arcane thrum.

“It’s a bone,” Dolly said.

“A finger bone, to be precisssse,” Willow agreed.

“Necromancy.” Templar Steel said with disgust.

Willow reached out a spare hand, “Yesss,” and she reached out its opposite partner, “and no.”

“Meaning?” Esme asked.

“Bonesss naturally capture non-corporeal Essssenssse. Thisss process formsss a connection between the sssoul and bonesss; which isss one of the foundational principlesss of Necromansssy.” Willow nodded at the Templar. “Bonesss alssso absssorb arcane energy, particularly the partsss of the body that manipulate arcane fieldsss.”

“Like fingers,” Esme said catching on.

“Ssss…” Willow agreed and waggled all twenty of her free fingers. “Sssince Sssorcerersss have a natural affinity for channeling ssstrong raw magic thisss effect can be quite potent. I wasss usssing sssorcerer bonesss asss the ssstarting ingredient for my own magical dissstillation experimentssss.” Willow grinned  apologetically; digging up mage tombs wasn’t something she usually admitted in polite company. The Templar frowned. “Regardlesssss, my hypothesssisss isss that thisss finger bone came from an unnaturally powerful Transssmutation ssspecialist and that your Rogue Mage was using thisss Talisssman to boossst hisss prowesssss.”

“So there’s no Necromancy?”

“On the contrary, creating ssssuch an effective Bone Talissssman issss a work of powerful necromantic enchantment. Whoever made thisss isss a powerful practitioner of the Dark Ssschool.”

Esme nodded, “Definitely not that basement amateur.”

The Templar looked like she’d sucked on a sour candy, “That means the true leader of this Tansmutation chaos is still at large, and is also practicing Necromancy.” She made a fist, “And we haven’t a way to find them.”

“On the contrary,” Willow Branch said, pulling a crude map of the city out of her desk and cupping the fingerbone in her top hands. “We have a perfect lead right here.”

“Entanglement,” Esme said.

“Precisssely.”

“What?” The Templar asked.

“Gods, do they teach you lot anything?” Esme asked, her tail lashing impatiently. “Components of a whole share a magical identity, so we can use this bone to find the rest of the skeleton.”

Templar Steel’s eyes widened in understanding, “Which will lead us to the person making the Talismans.”

“Yessss.”

“I don’t get it,” Dolly said from her seat.

“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Willow said warmly and handed the fingerbone to Esme, gently touching her wrist as she did so. Esme smiled and blushed. Willow thought her demonic angel looked simply ravishing in her stripped down outfit. She couldn’t wait to have Esme back in her clutches. Templar Steel scowled at them with her arms crossed across her dirty tabard. Willow unrolled her forked tongue and flicked it at the Templar.

Esme was already lost in concentration. She pressed the fingerbone talisman to her forehead, closed her eyes, and started to whisper the parameters of a Divination Spell. She let her hand hover over Willow’s map of the city, her arm jerking around, seemingly at random, as if her hand was controlled by an unseen puppet string. Esme’s hand flitted back and forth, bouncing between two spots on the map, and occasionally making quick flicks to other locations before returning to those two main spots. Willow frowned and placed two of her index fingers on those main locations. Esme stopped chanting and opened her eyes. She frowned, “I can’t resolve a location.”

Willow tapped the two spots on the map, “That’sss becaussse you found two.”

“They divided the skeleton,” Templar Steel said.

“Yesss,” Willow smiled and tapped the map again. “It ssseeemsss the bonesss are mossstly in these two ssspotsss.” Willow privately noted that Esme’s scrying had caught a few other places on the map, likely Bone Talisman held by other Transmutation wizards, but the Templar didn’t need to know that. “Logically, our Necromancer mussst be in one of thessse placesss.”

“I guess we split up and scout both,” Esme said tapping a red claw on her chin.

“Alright,” Templar Steel nodded and studied the map. “What are the options?”

Willow lifted one finger from a part of the map she knew contained an unfashionable cemetery for threadbare mages. A reasonable if surprising place to find the bones of a powerful transmutation sorcerer. “Thisss isss a magical potter’sss field.” But please let’s not ask me why I know.

“And the other spot?” Esme asked.

“Why…” Willow lifted her finger, “The Templar Sssanatorium.”

Esme and Astrid looked at each other.

“KITTEN!”

***

Templar Astrid Steel charged into the Sanatorium foyer with Esme Asmodian trotting in her wake. “Where is Kitten Mazorubeus!” She demanded, hand on the pommel of her sword.

The night receptionist looked frightened, “Templar? This is most irregular…”

Esme slithered past Astrid and sashayed up to the desk, still dressed in her ridiculous party outfit with the slit skirt and immodest top. She leaned over the table, her big tits nearly spilling out of her shirt, and sketched a sigil on the desktop. Astrid shivered and felt butterflies, Esme was the very image of demonic seduction. Esme’s voice became honey and temptation, “You want to help us…”

The receptionist’s eyes glazed over. She grinned stupidly, “Oh of course, anything for you and the Templar.”

Esme smiled and twisted her gorgeous hair, “Can you take us to Kitten’s room?”

“Oh of course I would love to,” The Receptionist frowned, “But only the Warders have keys.”

“Could you fetch Warder Thromaire?”

“Oh of course!” The receptionist said and scurried away.

Esme grinned a truly breathtaking smile at Astrid, “Don’t worry, we’ll mind the desk.”

Astrid felt a rune on her arm burn and blinked, fucking untrustworthy demoness.

***

“Why are we here?” Dolly Farmer whined as she stiffly marched along beside Willow Branch.

“Don’t you enjoy an adventure?”

“Fighting is an adventure,” Dolly grumbled. “This is just spooky.”

Willow smiled and looked around, the magical potter’s field was a wonderfully dismal place to visit on a moonless night. It was unkempt and unloved and filled with crudely manufactured headstones that listed a name (if known),  a date of death (always), and the magical expertise of the deceased (whenever possible). Between the rows of plain headstones stood ornate obelisks, although these were not monuments to the dead, but rather magical guard towers covered in anti-necrotic wards. With this much buried magic, the ground was ripe for haunting. Which of course was the onus for burying all the unwanted dead mages in one heavily warded field near the Templar Citadel. Willow sighed fondly, she loved this place. “It isss ssspooky.”

“What do we do if we find a ghoul?”

“Sssmack it with your ssshovel?” Willow did a three level shrug, “Vanquissshing the undead isss your department, I’m jussst here for the grave robbing.”

Dolly looked like she wanted to say something, but instead stiffly set her shovel down and looked around, subconsciously cocking a hip and thrusting out her breasts. Her body was so prone to posing. “Where are we even going?” She whinged.

“Good quessstion,” Willow hissed. She held up the Bone Talisman in one hand and drew unseen sigils in the air with with another four. She wasn’t a powerful enough mage to do the map trick, but a simple Locate Object was within her bailiwick. She let the reassembled fingerbone amulet fall back onto her chest between her right cleavage and felt a subtle tug in one direction. She pointed: “Thisss way.”

***

“I couldn’t find Warder Thromaire,” the Night Receptionist said with a deep sigh. “But here is her apprentice.”

Esme studied the diminutive form of Hilde Barris and tried not to glower. She hadn’t Charmed the receptionist to climb the organizational ladder one rung at a time. Esme dug her claws into her palms, they needed to find Kitten immediately. This was wasting time. The short little apprentice looked up with tired eyes and a trembling lip, “Templar, why are you here?”

Astrid snorted, clearly also annoyed, “We need to see Kitten Mazorubeus, right away. Where is Warder Thromaire?”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Hilde said with a tiny bit of resentment, “So probably in her bed at home.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because someone has to be,” Hilde grumbled.

“Take us to see Mazorubeus. At once.”

Hilde took off her glasses and rubbed her exhausted face, “I’m really not supposed to…”

Esme remembered her own time as a lowly apprentice and how shitty it’d been at the bottom. Even for an overachiever like herself. “How long would it take to fetch Thromaire?”

“An hour perhaps? Her apartments are across town near the Wylde Lockes.”

Esme leaned forward to put herself on Hilde’s level and pulled her wings back to help make her cleavage loom larger. She made her voice as warm as she could and tried to be the seductress her body suggested, “It is ever so important we speak to Kitten. Hopefully it’ll be nothing but a quick hullo, but if she’s involved in this bigger plot we need to bring her in for questioning.” She made herself purr, “I promise you won’t get in trouble.”

“It’s very important?”

Astrid puffed herself up, the tall imposing Templar, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright,” Hilde said with a yawn, “Follow me.”

***

“Thisss isss the ssspot,” Willow said, pointing to a grave which had very recently been dug up and left partially open. Inside a plain wooden coffin was smashed open to reveal the partial skeleton of some poor dead mage. Willow held the Talisman and felt it pull urgently towards the grave, eager to rejoin the other bones. “Our ssskeleton.”

“Ick,” Dolly said unhappily, seeming more the dainty sexdoll than former Templar.

“Watch out for Ghoulsss,” Willow said cheerfully before slithering over to the grave to inspect it. She reached all six of her hands into the open casket and started to study the bones. She observed arm bones, and rib bones, and a spine, and legs, but no carpals, metacarpals, or phalanges. There were no hand bones to be found. This was certainly the right skeleton, but it was the leftovers, the bones insufficiently magical to be worth stealing. Which meant there would be no Rogue Necromancer at this location…

“Willow?”

“Yesss Dolly?”

“H-have you looked at the grave marker?” Dolly was fetchingly arranged to point at the headstone. Which read: Fox Smithrite and Speciality: Transmutation.

“Fuck!” This wasn’t just any skeleton, these were the bones of Willow’s former coworker Fox, the all powerful Transmutation prodigy and fuckup. Fox, who had been murdered by Kitten Mazorubeus. Fox, who had been compelled to transform Willow and rest of The Ghosts into monsters. Fox, who had been so powerful a sorcerer that no one else could reverse their transformations… “Oh no. Esseme…”

“What?”

“We aren’t immune.”

***

Hilde Barris opened the door and Astrid burst through it, Esme right behind her. Astrid gripped her sword and looked around the cell, “Kitten!” She challenged.

“Hi!” Kitten said happily.

“Templar,” hissed Warder Nicolene Thromaire. Thromaire was wearing black robes with a corsette made of bones and was brandishing an iron staff crowned with a glowing human skull. A dozen runes on Astrids arms burnt urgently. “Necromancer!”

The door banged shut.

Astrid drew her sword.

Esme started to cast a spell.

Kitten mewled happily.

And Thromaire held aloft her staff and shouted: “ENOUGH!”

Thromaire’s staff exploded in a corona of green fire and two beams of energy lanced out of the skeletal eye sockets striking Astrid and Esme. Astrid gasped and her body seethed like a fever. Her clothes and armor dissolved and her sword fell to the floor as her arms became rubbery and numb. She gasped as her fingers sunk into her hands and her arms shrank away. She was being transformed! “No no no no…”

Thromaire laughed, “Oh yes, Templar!”

Astrid looked around desperately in a panic. Her arms were gone! She was armless! She stumbled backward and collided with Esme, felt their naked bodies press together, Esme’s big tits crushed onto her back and her radiantly hot cock pressed against her ass. Esme moaned helplessly as more green energy arced over their bodies like electricity. “Fuck,” Astrid gasped.

Thromaire laughed maliciously and the staff erupted in another flare of green. Astrid yelped! She felt her body grow soft like boiled rubber and the division between herself and Esme fade. She was melting! Melting into Esme! Flowing. Melding. Astrid was assaulted by new sensations: arms again! A tail! Wings! The ravenous throb of an insatiable cunt! The pounding rigid burning ache of something foreign! A cock! Her cock!

Astrid screamed!

Esme screamed!

“You two deserve each other!”

***

“Dolly, you really mussst walk fassster,” Willow Branch chided.

Dolly pouted, “I’m moving as fast as I can!” She couldn’t help that her limbs moved so stiffly or that anything more than a pretty pose was a bother.

Willow hissed, scooped Dolly’s small body up into her six arms and started to slit her faster. “Put me down!” Dolly whined and struggled. This was humiliating! She was a Templar! She kicked her legs as much as she was able and wiggled within the limited motion of her corseted torso. “Unhand me!”

“Oh hush…” Willow said, and one of her hands started to stroke Dolly’s cunt through her trousers. Dolly moaned and felt her limbs grow more rigid, more doll-like, and then relax, her body now just a limp plaything. Just a sexy doll. “Don’t stop,” she begged.

***

Astrid blearily opened her eyes and immediately snapped them shut. Her entire being hurt! She took a deep breath that felt… strange… and forced herself to open her eyes. She was laying on a cot in a small room, staring at a wall made of rough cut stone. It smelled of mildew and wet and disuse. This wasn’t the bright modern Sanatorium cell of Kitten Mazorubeus, this was an altogether grimmer dungeon. Where was she?

Astrid turned her head, looked up, and screamed!

“Finally woke up?” Esme Asmodian asked from far too close.

Astrid kept screaming because hung on the ceiling above the cot was a full length mirror so she could see what had been done to her. What had been done to them, since Astrid Steel and Esme Asmodian shared a single body.

“Could you stop that?” Esme said. “It’s hurting our throat.”

Astrid stopped screaming and stared at herself, at herself and Esme, themself. She saw Esme’s head: silky black hair, an angular beautiful face, intense violet eyes, and backswept red horns growing from her forehead like a demonic crown. She saw her own head too: delicate cheekbones and chin, the darkest blue eyes, shockingly white hair, and royal blue ram horns growing from her forehead and spiralling around her now-pointed ears. Demonic horns! Devilish! Astrid moaned. She looked like a fiend! Corrupted…

Astrid shivered and squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t possible! This was a dream! A nightmare! Impossible! She fought down her fear and made her mind still. She had to stay calm and focus. She was a Templar and there was work to do.

Astrid opened her eyes and continued her study. Both their heads grew from the same shoulders, two heads on a single shared body. Esme’s head was on the right and Astrid’s on the left, so close they were almost cheek-to-cheek. Their shared shoulder’s grew two arms, thin but strong, that transitioned from smooth pale skin to bright red scales on the forearms with clawed hands. Hands and arms that Astrid could feel but couldn’t seem to control. Around each wrist was a band of steel, Mage Wards for imprisoned wizards. Their shared torso had four breasts, large and unnaturally perfect as if sculpted, the top pair slightly bigger than the lower. Astrid felt their weight and the ache of their four stiff nipples. She could see their red wings poke out from underneath their body, a little longer now, but still too small to be anything more than a decoration. Astrid could feel them being crushed by their body but couldn’t move them. Was she paralyzed? Reduced to a head? Was she doomed to be a prisoner on this demoness body? A chatty parasite?

Astrid grit her teeth and fought against panicking. She tried to move anything, any part of their shared body, and felt their legs move on the bed. She could move their legs! Shapely thighs that transitioned to long slender legs that grew royal blue scales below the knee. Their feet were elongated and ended in four long talons like a bird or dragon. Esme lifted a leg and flexed their strange toes, made them into a fist. She saw their hips were very broad and no doubt their ass generous and plush. Astrid noticed their long tail had royal blue scales, so she tried to move it, and grinned when it followed her command. She twisted the prehensile limb and held it aloft, blushing as she studied its broad almost phallic tip. Astrid grimaced, she couldn’t move their arms, but she had complete control of their lower body. At least it was something.

Astrid finally let herself see their cock, their erect lengthy thick heavy cock. It was as long as their forearms and twisted royal blue and scarlet red, decorated with ridges and bumps, and ended in a too-wide pointed glans the colour of a lurid bruise. It was inhuman! Purely demonic! An unholy shaft of flesh that jutted from a throne of two big meaty balls between their thighs. Their cock ached and burned and strained and shuddered with the drumbeat of their heart. It begged to be used. Demanded it! Commanded! Astrid felt their hidden cunt weep hot arousal over their thighs and ass, felt an almost painful hunger to be filled, the ravenous pulse of a hidden clitoris. Astrid whined and fidgeted their thighs together. “Oh gods, does it always feel like this?”

Esme grinned, “Almost always.” Astrid felt one of their hands move, felt one of their clawed fingers caress her cheek, “But this is a little more than normal.” The hand gently encircled her neck and the Astrid controlled parts of their body shivered. “This is turning you on,” Esme purred. Their hand cupped one of their four breasts and squeezed a nipple. Astrid gasped and Esme whispered, “You like this.”

No! Astrid wanted to deny it, wanted to fight it, but fucking gods she was so horny!  The pounding of their cock, her cock, the fiery hole of her cunt killed any protest. She needed release! Her lips trembled, “Please…”

Esme smiled, a fanged look of demonic triumph, and their hand touched their shared cock. Astrid gasped as an electric shock of alien pleasure raced through her body, their body. “Save me,” she begged as she felt their palm rub along their shaft, felt every bump and ridge navigated, touching and being touched. Their legs squirmed and their avian feet clenched. She felt their cock twitch and hot precum ooze from inside like a trickle of liquid fire. “Preserve,” she moaned as their balls seethed and ached. Their heart raced and Astrid felt them both start to pant. Their cunt was a swollen volcanic spring leaking pungent slick heat. Esme stroked their cock and rubbed their glans, baptizing their cock in their lust. “Submit,” she hissed at Astrid.

Astrid gasped and kicked their legs, reminded again of being swept up in the Demonic orgy, of that total blissful loss of control. That permission to succumb to perversion and passion and pleasure. To be used. To use. To fuck anyone and everyone and anything that she wanted. To be filthy. To be swept away completely by desire. She had loved every fucking second of it and her days since had seem grey in comparison. And here she was again, body aroused beyond self control, at the perverse mercy of Esme Asmodian and her demonic form. Her own demonic form. Astrid’s lips trembled, tried to form the word no, but failed. “F-fu-fuck m-m-meee…”

Esme moaned and kissed her, their two heads suddenly locked together, lips chewing, fangs biting, a too-long barbed tongue invading a mouth, whose tongue neither could be sure, since every sensation was shared, actions blurring. Their hands stroked their aching cock faster and harder, gaining speed and momentum, their tail was jammed inside their ravenous cunt, squirming and thrusting, their legs kicked and their wings flailed. Pleasure begat pleasure and raced throughout them without borders. Their cock strained and their balls surged and their cunt spasmed at the edge of climax. The boundaries between Esme and Astrid became porous, irrelevant. They were one instinctual carnal consciousness. They moaned from a mouth while they bit a neck, they squeezed their balls so hard it hurt, they clenched their thighs tight around their tail and writhed and bucked their hips and screamed together as their cunt clenched in orgasm once and twice and again. Their balls constricted and something within them burst open and their cock erupted in a rush of steaming glowing cum. Two mouths opened in a silent cry and as one mind they were obliterated…

***

Templar Commander Emilia Stone frowned from behind her desk. “You’re telling me that there is a Necromancer loose in my own Sanatorium and they are wielding the bones of your dead colleague as a magical weapon?”

“Yes Commander!” Dolly Farmer barked, posing at perfect attention. Even if her trouser crotch was still damp.

The Templar Commander pinched her nose and made a fist. Willow Branch found herself rearing back a little, even in her nightgown Commander Stone was intimidating. “And you’ve informed Lady Vithgoth?”

“Yesss.”

“And what were her thoughts on the matter?”

Willow shrugged her top pair of arms, “She told usss to quote: Pisssss the fuck off and leave her alone.”

“Typical.”

“Commander! Should we not go apprehend the Necromancer?” Dolly tried to ignore the faint scent of pussy coming from her pants.

“And how would we do that?”

“I have the ability to locate the Necromancer,” Willow said holding up a pilfered thigh bone from Smithrite’s corpse. “I could lead you to the target.”

Templar Commander Stone nodded, “That’s useful.” She stood up from behind her desk and rested her fists on the table. She chewed on a plan, tested the risks and costs and potential for fuck ups, considered the consequences if she did nothing, and reached a decision. She nodded, “Alright, let’s muster the Night Duty and get this over with.”

***

Esme Asmodian slowly came back to herself, body warm and abstracted and delicious. Her cunt ached in that wonderful satisfied way and her cock had the steady pulse of a partially sated beast. She was still horny, but the sharp edges had been mercifully blasted off for a while. Esme sighed, not for the first time she wondered what had compelled her to curse herself with such high maintenance genitals. She felt a different head move on her body and fuck, right, Astrid. Esme glanced over and saw her new… bodymate, she supposed, was still unconscious. Which was an issue since she was also their legs. “Wake up,” Esme hissed quietly.

Astrid mumbled and twisted, but failed to wake up. Esme fought the urge to flick Astrid’s ear and the other stranger urge to tenderly caress her cheek like a lover. Esme felt their cock twitch and thought that maybe she could masturbate her awake. She settled for gently tapping Astrid on the cheek. “Wake up, Templar.”

“Fucking gods…” Astrid said, “That was amazing…”

“Absolutely!” Sang a cheerful voice.

Esme and Astrid both yelped and awkwardly coordinated to sit up. Esme looked around, but didn’t see the speaker. “Show yourself!” Astrid demanded.

The air shimmered and warped and suddenly there loomed a visible Kitten Mazorubeus. She smiled and did a tentacular curtsy, “That was a marvellous show! I can’t decide if my favourite part was where Dear Esme played seductive succubus or the part where the Templar succumbed so wantonly.” She purred as three of her hair tentacles caressed the oozing pussies on her six tits. “I think maybe it was when you fucked yourselves so animalistically…”

“You were here the whole time.”

“Meow,” Kitten confirmed.

Esme raised their hands to cast a spell, but remembered the Mage Wards. She sighed and let their hands drop. “I thought you’d been given The Brand.”

Kitten mewled happily and twisted to show them the complex arcane scarification on her back. She waved her tentacles and the cicatrix grew blurry and rearranged itself into an obscene tattoo of Esme and Astrid ejaculating together. “A simple illusion.”

“Bloody hells,” Astrid spat.

Kitten grinned, “As if daddy would let them hurt me like that, especially since I was making such excellent progress with therapy.”

Esme frowned, “It was you all along?”

Kitten shook her head, “I’m more of a muse. Dearest Nikki is the real leader of this fun little insurrection.” She leered at Esme, “I find it much more fun to find someone a bit unstable and give them a push.”

Esme blushed, but Astrid said, “When you learned Thromaire was a hidden Necromancer you told her about Fox Smithrite’s bones.”

“I had some very interesting bones but needed a Necromancer.” Kitten shrugged several limbs, “I thought it would be a silly game, but I underestimated Nikki’s appetite for revenge. She really hates Templar.”

“How did you know Fox’s bones would make such an effective weapon?” Esme asked.

Kitten purred, “I’m the daughter of the High Archmage, and yet everyone always underestimates me.”

“So what now?”

“I’m to bring you to my new mistress,” Kitten said as she sashayed across the dungeon on a flow of tentacles. “Unless you ladies fancy a quick fuck first?”

Esme felt their cock harden and their cunt clench. She remembered too well how it felt to be ravished by Kitten. Astrid moaned, caught up in their shared arousal. Kitten bit her lip and let her tentacles wander over their bodies, “You made my body perpetually hunger for you, Asmodian. Let me be your Slave again.”

Esme moaned, their heart was racing and their body ached to say yes. She squeezed her mouth shut afraid to answer and Astrid said, “Yes…”

Kitten was upon them instantly, knocking them flat onto the cot, her tentacles binding them tightly together. Esme gasped as Kitten kissed her fiercely and Astrid moaned as she sucked on Kitten’s neck. Kitten rubbed her enlarged soaking cunt along their demonic cock, grinding her forever enflamed clitoris along the bumps and ridges of their shaft. She tilted her head back and purred and Esme and Astrid licked her neck with their elongated tongues, the divisions between their minds growing fuzzy. “Yessss…” two voices gasped in stereo as Kitten pulled their monstrous cock inside her body and “ohhhhh…” as she rammed a thick tentacle into the fiery abyss of their cunt. Esme and Astrid were united in lust and Kitten rode them, penetrated them, clutched their four breasts, fucked the cunts of her own tits, yanked their sensitive tail up into her asshole, bound them into a tight knot of passion “Fff…fff.. fffuck…ahhh… I missed you… mmmy t-t-true Mistress…”

***

Dolly Farmer felt like her old self for the first time in ages. Sure she still had her stupid stiff limbs and her annoyingly rigid torso and her huge tits and her little waist and her wanton womanhood, but for today at least she was a Templar. She had a modest broadsword perched on her shoulder in place of the old bastard she couldn’t lift, but it was a weapon, real fucking steel. She put on a grim face and tucked a little more of her overly large tabard into her belt and caught one of the other Templar leering at her tits. He saw her notice and winked. Dolly blushed and felt a warm dirty pulse in her crotch. So much for feeling like her old self.

“Thissss issss the place,” Willow Branch said, her eyes were closed and she clutched Smithrite’s thigh bone like a divining wand. “Down the ssstairssss.”

Templar Commander Emilia Stone nodded, “Alright.” She studied her small group: eight Templar, six men and two women, all wearing uniform tabards over leathers only. This was a stealth mission, no clanking plate or chainmail rattle. “We go in fast and neutralize the Necromancer by any force necessary. We have no idea if they will be alone, with allies, or if they have hostages. Avoid collateral damage if you can, but err on the side of eliminating the threat. Do you understand?” The Templar all rested their fist across their chest in a salut of assent. Commander Stone returned the gesture, “The only good Necromancer is a dead one.”

Templar Commander Stone hefted her mace and lead the way quietly down the stairs. The other Templar fell in behind, one of them groping Dolly’s ass as he passed. Dolly tottered, arousal making her limbs go a bit mannequin, but Willow held her upright. “Be careful,” she admonished gently.

“Of course,” Dolly said with a blush. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I favour dissscretion.” Willow shook her head, “I’m an academic not a sssoldier.”

Dolly nodded, quickly kissed Willow for good luck, and set off down the stairs. Maybe she was more of a sexdoll these days, but at least she still wanted to be a soldier.

***

Esme Asmodian slash Astrid Steel were tightly bound in the surpassingly strong grip of Kitten’s tentacles. Tentacles that held their arms immobile and hugged their waist still and idly caressed a tit or teasingly stroked an inner thigh. Tentacles that had just so deliciously and totally invaded their body. Tentacles, Esme didn’t need reminding, that had effortlessly snapped poor Fox Smithrite’s neck. Esme shivered, but she wasn’t sure if it was fear or arousal or coming mostly from Astrid.

Esme tried to distract herself by surveying the room: they were in some sort of crypt under the Sanatorium filled with the unwanted remains of mad wizards. There were skeletons on plinths and a great many skulls stacked on shelves. Esme gasped, there was also an Executioner’s sword, a great two handed blade with a blunt tip, rusted with age and laying against a battered log stained with ancient blood. This wasn’t just a tomb, this was a charnel house, an abattoir for wizards buried beneath the Templar Citadel. A Templar sanctioned murder room. Esme felt a stab of revulsion and fear and fury “Fuck…”

“I’m so sorry,” Astrid whispered, shock and guilt broadcasting through whatever bond they shared. “I had no idea…”

“Thanks.”

“Cute!” Kitten sang.“Now kiss!”

“Now do you understand my fury?” Interrupted Nicolene Thromaire. She was dressed in an eldritch gown of black silk with a bodice made of bones and brandished her Transmutation staff capped with the skull of Fox Smithrite. Her hands were blood soaked to the wrist like scarlet gloves and her red hair hung loose and wild. Around her shambled a dozen skeletons brandishing rusty cleavers, wood axes, or crude spears. “Mages came here for healing, but were instead confined until death.” She nodded at the Executioner sword, “If they were lucky.”

Esme licked her lips and tried to come up with a plan. They should fight back, her and Astrid, escape and bring reinforcements. She clenched her fists, her spellcraft was nullified by the Mage Wards and Astrid was literally disarmed, and anyway they were still unused to their shared body. Esme still felt unsteady like she was dancing with a new partner while wearing overtly daring shoes. Even if they could escape Kitten’s embrace what could they do? This was a bad situation. “What’s your plan?” Esme asked, “What will you do with us?”

Thormaire smiled, “Dangle you.”

They heard a door bang open and Templar Commander Emilia Stone yelled, “Necromancer!”

“Ah,” sighed Thromaire, “Here comes the cavalry now.”

***

“It’s a trap!” Astrid yelled and then gagged as Kitten rammed a tentacle into her mouth. Astrid moaned into the thick tube of flesh in her mouth and kicked their feet on the floor. The Templar were walking into a trap! She had to help them! “Rrgggllltttt!”

Commander Emilia Stone strode forward brandishing her mace with eight stout Templar and a living sex doll marching in her wake. She quickly surveyed the room and frowned, “Warder Thromaire? Explain yourself.”

Thromaire smiled and green energy crackled along her staff, “I think a demonstration would be more illustrative.”

Thromaire thrust her staff into the air and bolts of Transmutative green lightening exploded from Smithrite’s skull and slammed into Commander Stone. Stone screeched and collapsed, clutching a body already warping and twisting.

“Mnnnoogggh!” Astrid gasped into her fleshy gag.

“Take that, you old warhorse.” Thromaire muttered. She made a gesture toward the Templar, “KILL THE INTRUDERS.” A dozen skeletons instantly stopped, swiveled, and marched towards the Templar intruders. The Templar hastily formed a defensive posture around their fallen leader whose nude body was swelling horribly. One of the Templar, a giant of a man holding a two-handed sword, stepped boldly forward and cleaved a leading skeleton into stray bones. “For Justice!” He roared, smashing another skeleton, “For the Commander!” Thromaire hissed and blasted the man with a bolt of green magic and he dropped his claymore to the floor.  He held up his hands with a stunned look on his face: sprouting from his wrists were the dainty manicured feet of a beautiful woman. “Fuck,” the man squeaked, stumbling backward, elegant toes clenched and soft soles sweating in fear.

Oh gods, Astrid thought, they were going to get slaughtered! She bit down on Kitten’s tentacle in her mouth, but the thick limb was hard like cold rubber and didn’t budge. “Kinky,” giggled Kitten, squeezing their bodies tighter together, her six nipple-cunts oozing onto their back. “Do it again,” she purred.

The Templar and skeletal undead engaged in combat, the Templar hacking and shouting, anchored around Commander Stone, who had stopped wailing and was trying to coordinate unfamiliar limbs on her greatly expanded body. Skeletons splintered and fell, bones were everywhere, but there were only eight Templar, who were already hurt and bleeding, one soldier crouched on the ground clutching a long wound. Another uselessly waiving his girly feet. Worse, new skeletons were climbing out of the crypt, dire reinforcements marching into the fray. If something didn’t change then attrition would wear the Templar away in an undead tide. A Templar with a huge hammer shouted and charged, crashing through the skeleton horde, trying to buy space and time, pulverizing bone until she was struck by green lightening. Her clothes burst off her body as her tits grew to the size of melons and her belly swelled into a taught round sphere like a pregnant woman. The Templar stumbled and moaned and her belly grew and grew and grew while her legs shrank away to nothing but her feet. Thromaire cackled and the Templar clutched her huge round belly and wobbled alarmingly, her body too swollen and round to move. Another Templar growled and stepped forward to defend her.

“Isn’t this fun?” Kitten asked happily.

***

Dolly Farmer stiffly swung her little sword and bounced it off a nearby skeleton. Her sword was so heavy! Dolly hefted it and nearly fell over. This was ridiculous! She used to be a master of the longsword and this was hardly more than a training blade! Her body was too weak and too rigidly immobile for combat, her weapon too small to crack bone. The only parts of her that moved with any force and urgency were her tits which were distractingly, deliciously bouncy. Dolly growled, she was a liability! She thrust jerkily with her sword, slipping it neatly but uselessly into the ribcage of a skeleton. The blade stuck. She yelped and tried to lurch backward, but tottered, nearly fell. “Careful!” Grunted a Templar who obliterated the skeleton with a chop of his battleaxe. The Templar playfully spanked Dolly’s ass and attacked another skeleton.

Dolly Farmer blushed and picked up her blade. “Pig!”

The Battleaxe wielding Templar laughed and cut down a skeleton, kicked over another, then grunted as he was struck with green lightening. He moaned like a whore and his pants split open in the back. His ass rapidly expanded, swelling big and round and jiggly, and sprouted a pair of long rigid nipples like fleshy pint glasses. His ass was becoming tits! Huge, sagging tits that hung to the floor and ballooned out into two huge masses of flesh like a bloated tail. Over half the Templar’s body was his mammoth mammary ass! The Templar moaned and tried to move, but he was pinned in place by the heavy weight of his derrière.

Dolly grinned and gave the Templar’s ass-tits a hearty smack.

One of the other Templar sang a few syllables and burst with a radiant light that made the skeletons skitter backwards. She made a sweeping gesture, like gathering moonbeams, and pointed at one skeleton which crumbed into dust. “Traitor!” Thromaire shouted and launched a green bolt of energy at the Templar mage, who tried to dodge, but was struck by the spell. She yelped and her head melted into her shoulders, leaving a clean unbroken line. The Templar mage stumbled forward, groping for her missing head blindly, as her clothing burned off her headless body. She gasped suddenly like coming up for air as the nipples on her tits became mouths with plush lips. “What happened?” Her left tit asked. “I can’t see!” her right tit added. Dolly dropped her sword and awkwardly guided the headless Templar away from danger.

Dolly looked around. Fuck they were in so much trouble! Four Templar had been disabled, and another two were badly wounded, which left Dolly and two other frantic defenders to protect Commander Stone. They were going to be overwhelmed! She made a kind of mewling sound and felt panic swell in her chest. Maybe it was time to run away? She looked for a way out and Dolly felt a strong hand on her shoulder, “Do not despair.”

Dolly looked up, way up, into the grimly smiling face of Commander Emilia Stone. Commander Stone had become some sort of mythical centauress creature, her powerful upper body attached to an entire grey furred horse below the waist. She cracked her foreleg hooves on the ground and brandished her mace and knickered. “The cavalry is here.”

Centauress Stone whirled and smashed a skeleton with her mace, crushing it’s skull to dust. Her equine flanks rippled with muscle and she reared up, kicked with her hooves, and broke another skeleton. Stone neighed in victory, charged forward, battering skeletons aside, and stamped heavily on a pair that fell under her, grinding their bones to paste. She smashed another skeleton with her mace, then kicked out with her hind legs, pulverizing a pair of skeleton behind her. She whinnied and point her mace at Thromaire, “Templar! To me!” She scraped the ground with a hoof, “Charge!”

“Oh, this won’t do at all,” Thormaire said crossly. She raised her staff and blasted a huge bolt of green Transmutation energy into Stone, who moaned and stumbled to a stop. Her mace clang to the floor as her arms receded into her shoulders. Her tits swelled hugely on her chest and a second pair of breasts sprouted below, her four nipples elongating into long teats like an animal. She paced uncertainly as her equine body swelled and shifted, her fur becoming white with black spots, her hooves cloven, and a huge pink sack of an udder grew under her belly. She was becoming a cow centaur! Her ears became bovine, her nose grew wide and boxy, and short horns grew from her forehead. Stone glowered, her face still locked in total determination; despite her body she would not be cowed! Commander Stone settled heavily onto her remodeled hooves, pawed the ground, and opened her mouth to issue a command…

“MooOOOOoooOOooo!”

***

Esme groaned, they were all so fucked! The Templar were broken, the Commander was cattle, and Esme and Astrid were still prisoners. They had to escape before things got worse, but Kitten still had them bound tight, her tentacles like unbreakable iron bands. Esme grimaced as she felt Astrid’s jaw ache from her gag. “Kitten,” she said, “Let us go…”

Kitten purred, “But the game isn’t finished.”

“Can you at least ungag Astrid? It’s hurting me.” Esme sighed, “And not in a sexy way.”

Kitten mewed, but relented, and Astrid gasped in appreciation.

Thromaire laughed merrily but then paused, and frowned, as the newly bovine Commander Stone used her heavy bulk to run down and crush the few remaining skeletons. She was running out of undead fodder to keep the Templar occupied. She eyed the last two upright Templar, who were cautiously approaching her, tactically spread out to make it harder for her to stop them both. Thromaire shouted and shot a green energy bolt at one Templar, but he sprang aside, neatly dodging it. His opposite number charged, but then dropped and rolled aside as Thromaire whirled toward him. She was surrounded! Esme grinned, maybe the tide was finally turning?

Thromaire glanced at Kitten and smiled, then turned the Transmutation magic on herself. Green energy enveloped Thromaire in a blazing corona and she cried out in ecstasy. Her body swelled, gaining several inches of height, and her clothes dissolved to ash. Her arms split and divided, becoming ten boneless limbs that swelled into tentacles, long and black and shiny. Her ass flowed into a matching black tail, blunt and wide, and her vagina swelled obscenely. Thromaire orgasmed and her clitoris swelled to the size of a fist, her vulva stretched and swelled, elongating down her tail as it expanded onto the ground. Thromaire’s hips widened and her legs were lifted off the ground as her weight fell onto her huge tail and enormous pussy, her lower body remade into a pornographic snails foot. She sighed and her useless legs writhed and split, becoming ten more black tentacles on her hips, arrayed around her giant pulsing clitoris. Thromaire cackled and her hair wound itself into a crown of black tentacles while her torso filled with six huge breasts. She fondled her tits and moaned as all six of her nipples blossomed into obscenely leaking cunts. Thromaire laughed and laughed and her body grew huge, gaining mass and towering new height. She smiled down at the Templar like a giant and smiled, “Come and get it!”

“Beautiful,” Kitten said proudly.

“She looks an awful lot like you,” Esme accused.

“I’m very inspirational,” sniffed Kitten.

One of the Templar charged her, slashing his sword, and was smashed by a tentacle and sent sprawling across the room. The other Templar exploited the opening, but had to dive aside as green energy shot at him, catching him momentarily, so he climbed to his feet a busty she with bunny ears and a cute little tail. Thromaire laughed and waggled her tentacles in triumph, except the ones busy stroking her huge clit or invading a cunt. “You pathetic fools! You cannot defeat me!”

“I’d clap,” said a bored voice, “but I find myself woefully unequipped.”

Esme sighed, Lady Vithgoth had entered the dungeon. The truncated battlemage strutted into the crypt, her long legs and hips rolling with her usual sexy sway, her head somehow held perfectly still even though it was only a few inches higher. Goth was dressed for combat: a short skirt and tight leggings hung with pouches and talismans and tools, her long hair was tied back, and her elegant feet were bare on the floor. Goth’s lips twitched in a happy smile, “Looks like we have a Haunted Mansion reunion! All of my dunces are here: the doll, the demoness, the high Archmage’s psycho brat. Why even dear old Fox Smithrite is here in the flesh! Or, well, at least the bone.” She frowned, “Wait, I’m short an idiot. Where’s the green one?”

Dolly shrugged, “Willow decided to hide.”

“Showing that she’s still the smartest of you lot. Which isn’t saying much.”

Thromaire hissed and waggled her tentacles angrily, “Be quiet!”

Goth ignored her and frowned a bit theatrically at Astrid, “Asmodian, did anyone tell you you’ve sprouted another head?”

“I’d noticed,” Esme said.

“Does it have a mind of it’s own?”

“I haven’t reached a conclusion yet.”

“Hey!” Astrid said, stamping a foot.

“Asmodian, you’ve been practicing! Your lips didn’t even move!”

“I’m not a puppet!”

“Sorry, I confused you for the other Templar dummy.”

Thromaire slammed her tentacles on the floor, “Are you quite finished?”

Lady Vithgoth finally looked at Thromaire, studied her huge erotic sluggy body and rolled her eyes. “Why? Are you in a rush?”

“What?”

“You look a bit sluggish to me.”

Thromaire made a frustrated angry sound and levelled the skull of Fox Smithrite at Lady Vithgoth. She smiled coldly and blasted Goth with the full fury of her Transmutational power!

Only to see the energy dissolve in a crackling circle around Goth. Goth sketched a leggy little pirouette, “That it?”

Thromaire screeched and tentacled and blasted her again!

The energy dissipated harmlessly. Goth turned and wagged her bum at Thromaire, “Maybe it’ll work the third time?”

Thromaire sulked but didn’t bother. “You’re immune!?”

Goth farted, “No, I doubt any mortal being is immune to Smithrite. I simply crafted a new protection spell to nullify Transmutation magic.” She put her ass away, thrust out her hip, looked coquettishly back over her pelvis, “I’ve been tinkering with it for a while, but completed it just for you. I call the spell: Warder Thromaire is a stupid bitch.”

“Moo,” Templar Commander Emilia Stone lowed sternly. “Moo.”

“Oh alright,” Goth said, “Keep your udders full.” She lifted a bare foot, pointed an elegant toe at Thromaire and said: “SHATTER!”

And the skull of Fox Smithrite exploded into dust.

***

The skull exploded and Thromaire screamed in fury!

She writhed her tentacles and stared at the broken staff. The magical skull was gone! Totally obliterated! No more Transmutation magic! No more secret weapon. No more turning herself back into a normal woman… She bellowed and thrashed and threw the smoking ruin of her staff at a Templar. “Fuuuuuuuuck!”

“Moooo!” She whirled and saw that Templar Cow charging at her! Her huge bovine cowtaur body swaying wildly, a thunder of hooves, and that strange Templar sexdoll clinging to her back holding a crude spear. And then pain! Agony!

Thromaire howled and swung a tentacle, struck the Templar Cow, sent her attackers tumbling!

Thromaire yanked the spear out of her flank and then screamed as her body erupted with jagged forks of electricity! She hissed and twisted, saw the two headed demoness was free and already casting another spell! Fire roared from their hands and Thromaire yelped in searing pain!

She could play that game too. She was a Necromancer! She started to cast with her clumsy new limbs and then saw a flash of familiar green fire! Transmutation magic! Coming from a large green woman with six arms and a long serpentine tail. Thromaire bellowed but heard her voice dissolve into a squeak as she shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until everyone towered above her! She was so small! Hardly larger than a dog! Diminished!

“Nooooo!” Thromaire squealed. “I’ll have my revenge!”

A huge blue scaled foot kicked her in the head.

***

Hilde Barris nervously approached the so-called Haunted Mansion. She wasn’t nervous about any specters, for she knew the building was haunted by metaphorical Ghosts only: those mages who had fucked up so dearly that they were banished to rot. Mages like Hilde. Hilde adjusted her glasses and sighed, she should count herself lucky to only have been made a Ghost.

Officially Hilde was being scolded for not realizing her master was a Necromancer, for being too naive or trusting or stupid to see the signs of corruption. Which was a convenient story since Hilde had always known Thromaire dabbled in the forbidden Dark Arts. She wasn’t a fucking idiot. She just hadn’t really cared. She’d only wanted to complete her apprenticeship with the minimal fuss and move on with her life, to maybe open a bookstore. Magical tomes and fiction and smut. So it wasn’t maliciousness or complicity, Hilde had simply judged that being the former apprentice of a secret Necromancer was preferable to being swept up in a Templar investigation or dealing with the stigma of being labelled a Necromancer herself. She’d gambled that Thromaire could keep things circumspect, at least long enough for them to part ways.

Hilde’s hands clenched into tiny fists. She hadn’t accounted for the influence of Kitten Mazorubeus.

Fucking crazy bitch!

Fucking idiotic Thromaire!

Fucking Templar!

Hilde unclenched her hands, smoothed her skirt, and forced herself to relax. She ascended the rickety, rotting stairs into the Haunted Mansion. She struggled with the stuck front door and almost tripped into the foyer. Hilda frowned at the squalid little hallway and the dirty stairway ascending to higher levels. She heard voices: “No….” whined a girl, “I don’t want to wear the pretty bow…”

Hide peaked into a large ground floor office and saw a beautiful young woman wearing a pretty frock in the colors of a Templar uniform. A huge green-skinned woman with six arms was fiddling with the girl’s hair and tying a bright blur ribbon onto a pigtail, “Hush Dolly, you look adorable.”

“I don’t want to be adorable…” the girl whined while blushing. Despite her protests she sat totally still, as if she were posed or paralyzed. The girl moaned, “Willow…”

“Hold ssstill,” The green six armed woman had a huge tail instead of legs which Hilde observed snaked around the office and disappeared lewdly up the skirts of the girl’s dress. Hilde blushed and looked away and noticed that a huge tiger crouched in a pile of cushions watching the display. The tiger was slightly human shaped, some sort of hybrid creature with six bare human breasts on her torso, and she looked rather bemused. The tigress made a noise between a giggle and a growl. What manner of perversion occurred in this office?

Hilde quietly backed away and snuck for the stairs to the second floor. The stairs creaked and moaned like her former master’s undead servants. She paused at the second floor and peaked inside an office door. Hilde’s heart beat a little faster when she saw the occupant. Occupants? It was the conjoined form of Esme Asmodian and Templar Astrid Steel. Hilde felt a small pang of guilt. She hadn’t known the two women would be harmed and didn’t participated in their transformation, but she had led them into the trap and locked the cell door. But what choice did she have? Defy Thromaire and be changed herself? Fetch the Templar and admit her knowledge of Necromancy?

Hilde wondered if they knew she’d betrayed them. She shivered, what would they do to her if they ever found out?

“Just because you control our hands doesn't give you license to… touch us.”

“What ever do you mean?”

“I don’t want you getting all handsy with our cock!”

“It was my cock first.”

“Well it’s mine now too, and I’d thank you not to wank it anymore!”

“You wouldn’t walk us to Willow’s house for our morning exercises, Legs.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m just saying that we could have spent the morning in passion with a beautiful woman.”

“Monstress.”

“Even better! Astrid, I can feel you want it as much as I do. I can feel the burning churn of our desire and the urgent ache of our cock…”

“Esme…”

Hilde cleared her throat, “Um? Hullo…”

The two voices united: “Out!!”

Hilde retreated as the door magically slammed in her face. She harumphed and fixed her glasses and headed up the stairs to the top floor. “Ah!” said a friendly voice, “Ms. Hilde Barris has finally come to join our fellowship! Come in! Come in!”

Hilde hesitantly stepped into the dark office. It was a mess, a dust filled horder’s collection of magical artifacts or rubbish or both. Hilde ducked as a red imp and a blue imp flew past her and landed on a chair set behind a cluttered desk. The two feminine imps merged together, becoming a red and blue two-headed little demoness, “Down here,” instructed a voice like honey.

Hilde followed it to find an elegant woman peering at her from just above the desktop. Hilde blinked her eyes and realized the woman’s head and neck sprouted straight from her hips. “You must be Lady Vithgoth,” Hilde said.

“Why yes! How astute of you.”

“Um? I have been assigned here?”

“For I quote: dereliction of duty, failing to observe Necromantic practices in a close colleague, a striking lack of judgement, and a general lack of competence.” Lady Vithgoth shook her head sadly, “Rather sounds like bureaucratic speak for you’re a complete and utter idiot.”

“Well, err.” That was a bit harsh.

“Since they’ve put Cow-mmander E-moo-lia Stone out to pasture, they decided to put your fate into my capable hands.”

“You don’t have hands…”

Lady Vithgoth grinned, “I knew you were capable of observation.”

“Oh.” What else did she know?

The reduced woman kicked her bare feet up onto her desk and wiggled her toes. “If you are only guilty of being unbelievably stupid then you deserve a second chance. It seems uncharitable to punish the simple.”

“But I’m not…”

Lady Vithgoth crossed her legs, flashing a view of scarlet checkered underwear. “Unless you did know about it all along, in which case you’d be an accessory to, well, all manner of serious crimes.” Lady Vithgoth blinked her eyes, “Why I’d be shocked if they didn’t give you the Brand and toss you down the same dark hole as your squiddy little former master.”

“Um?”

Lady Vithgoth smiled, “But I’m sure you’re quite innocent of all that. Any guilty person with an ounce of brains would’ve slithered out of town like that vile Mazorubeus brat.”

“Yes…” As a matter of fact Hilde had been packing her bags when the Templar had apprehended her.

“Only a completely innocent total imbecile would deliver herself into my clutches.”

“I… guess?”

Lady Vithgoth tilted her head and smiled with her teeth, “So which is it? Guilty or fucking idiot?”

Hilde blushed and opened her clenched fists, “Idiot, My Lady.”

“Excellent,” Lady Vithgoth said. “Why don’t you go pick out a desk in the office with Asmodian-Steel. I believe you’ve already met?”

“Oh.” Shit. “Um?”

Goth made a shooing motion with her feet, “Run along Simple Hilde,” Gith wiggled her toes, and the two-headed imp cackled, “Esme and Astrid were just about to paint my toenails.”

***

The End.

4

Re: The Haunted Mansion

Thank you for writing this!

5

Re: The Haunted Mansion

Thanks! I’m glad you enjoyed it.