Bluewingwriting

Deep Below, Deep Inside.

Happy Halloween Y'all. This is the result of the Spookiest Poll Ever.

TW: Tentacles, Teen, Mindbreak,

-o-o-o-

“You know how dangerous the Quantum Realm is.”

“We all do mom, nobody’s going to the Quantum Realm.”

“That’s why we made this, like a satellite for deep space or the ocean, but quantum.”

“We just need a map, and then we can study and explore the entire Quantum Realm and never even have to go.”

“It’s kinda like that two-way radio we used to have. You send a signal down from here “and then it collects the data and it sends it back.”

“Wait, wait a minute you’re sending a signal down to the Quantum Realm?”

“Yeah.”

“Shut it down now, you have to turn it off!”

Sparks. Explosions. Blinding golden light.

Falling.

Screaming.

Impact.

-o-o-o-

Hope Van Dyne groaned, ears ringing and head pounding as she lay on her back, her own breath fogging the yellow visor of her helmet.

Not for the first time, Hope was glad she and her father had redesigned her suit so thoroughly, she certainly appreciated the extra padding they’d installed right now.

“Scott?” she croaked, trying to straighten up, but her muscles were throbbing and she seemed to be semi submerged in whatever she’d landed in. Given how fast she’d been falling her last instinct had been to go giant-sized to spread out the impact, but after the hit her suit had defaulted for safety.

If she had to guess she was lying in the base of a hope-shaped crater, but as to where that crater was she hadn’t got a clue.

“Gnn, Scott? Are you there? Dad? Cassie? Mom?” she called out again, peering out past her clouded visor into the most bizarre sky she’d ever seen. Coils of light flowed in every direction, small asteroids of rock, goo, and what looked unfortunately like flesh, floated through the iridescent, psychedelic expanse of space stretching on forever above her.

“Gllk.”

A wet gurgle met Hope’s ears as she blinked and tried to sit up again, still finding herself stuck in the floor.

“Scott? Is that you?” she grunted, struggling for a moment before managing to thumb the button on the inside of her glove. In an instant she was barely a centimetre tall, snapping out of whatever had been trapping her and catching herself awkwardly in the air as her wings extended.

She fluttered in place for a moment, looking around the web of roots and mucus she’d been wedged in before zipping up towards the light of day.

She must have landed in some kind of marsh or bog, thick rubbery tubes of slimy green matter coiled all around her, still holding the imprint of her body even after she’d shrunk. Hope couldn’t smell through her helmet, but she couldn’t imagine the odours outside could be particularly pleasant.

“Scott? Cassie?” she called out as she flew out of the her-shaped cave, darting around to survey the area before freezing in abject horror.

The marsh she had landed in stretched on for as far as she could see, miles and miles of roots and vines and goo in an unimaginably vast valley that rose up to a ring of mountains of hills in the far distance.

That in itself was worrying, but a split second later Hope realised that the scale of where she had landed wasn’t the issue, what she had landed in was far worse.

It was alive.

Not roots, not vines, but tentacles, living, squirming, writhing green tentacles of wet green meat coiling and shifting as far as the eye could see.

She’d landed on an animal, and it had her family in its clutches.

Just a few metres away from where Hope had been embedded in the creature’s grasp a mound of tentacles wriggled, and emerging from it was Cassie.

Scott Lang’s daughter was being choked and squeezed by more tendrils than Hope could count, hundreds, thousands of them snaking around her desperately struggling body. Her eyes were wide and panicked, staring around desperately as a tentacle coiled around her forehead and squeezed her skull, keeping her in place as another violated her slobbering teenaged mouth.

Hope felt faint as she watched inch after inch of living meat pump in and out of Cassie’s lips, stretching her to the limit, bulging her throat as it thrust down into her over and over again. Cassie’s own spit and a steady ooze of pale white goo dribbled from her stuffed mouth and dribbled down her chin, thick, glutinous drops of slime falling down onto her heaving chest.

Cassie’s suit, the same one she, Hank and Hope had spent so long developing, had been shredded, leaving her naked and expose to the monster’s inhuman assault. Scraps of purple and black fabric were shoved and brushed aside by wandering fingers of flesh, wrapping the girl’s arms and legs almost completely, only shaking fingers and curling toes poking out from the mass of green muscle.

Yet more tendrils slithered up Cassie's svelte stomach, wrapping her waist, hugging her hips, leaving trails of goo like snail trails over her quivering flesh. One nubile breast was being squeezed and molested ruthlessly, a rope of green coiling around and around Cassie’s tit and tightening until it blushed red. The other wasn’t spared, being squeezed less viciously by the tendril gripping it, but instead its rosy nipple was being tugged and teased by another three slender tentacles.

Cassie’s legs were being forced into a full split as she sat on the mound of living vines, her thighs and calves totally consumed by the endless snakes of meat, only her pale, wet cunt and blushing asscheeks left exposed to be brutalised.

A tentacle even thicker than the one buried in her throat was pounding into her virgin pussy, lubed by slime and goo and stained faintly red as it tore through Cassie’s hymen and into her very womb. Another two ruthlessly wedged into her untouched asshole, gaping her open and pumping inside like pistons so deeply Hope could see them pushing and coiling beneath the poor girl’s stomach.

Cassie bubbled helplessly, eyes rolling in her head as lack of oxygen and overstimulation to her virgin body pushed her into unconsciousness.

Hope saw Cassie slump, the tentacles not slowing for an instant, and snapped out of her horrified stupor. Bolts of yellow lightning flashed from her gloves as she let out a roar of anger and sped towards Cassie’s violated husk.

Her wasp stings exploded against the hide of the tentacles and an inhuman squeal sound reverberated through the entire valley, but only the two tendrils Wasp had struck relaxed their grip on Cassie’s helpless form.

Hope snarled and let loose, a dozen bolts speeding through the air as she zoomed in a circle around Cassie, desperately trying to blast her free.

There were too many. For every tentacle she struck there were another dozen tightening their grip on Cassie, and a dozen more shifting up and rising from the mass of writhing snakes that was the entire floor beneath them.

The cavern Wasp’s impact had left had been filled as the creature shifted, and before Hope could even begin to contemplate a back-up plan to free Cassie, she found herself desperately trying to avoid hundred of grasping tentacles now waving in the air and swatting at her.

“Scott! Dad! Mom! Can anyone hear me!” she cried out, pouring every drop of power her suit had available into her gauntlets in a final blaze of stinging glory. She looped around Cassie once more, and froze, seeing a pair of long, pale legs emerging from the floor a hundred feet or so away.

They were wrapped even more than Cassie’s, spread wide and shaking as they protruded from the mass. Dozens of horribly thick tentacles rammed into the woman’s helpless holes, more than any human woman could ever naturally take, so many that an entire melon could have fitted into the gaping, tentacle-raped orifices.

The woman’s entire upper body was lost beneath the surface of the tendrils, and Hope only had an instant to worry that maybe her mother too had landed in the valley before she spotted a large, spherical belly emerging from the mess just a few metres further to the left. It was a beachball of flesh, skin and muscle swollen over a coiling mass of invading tentacles Hope could see moving beneath the surface. A pair of fat, plump tits wobbled free of the tangle, drooling thick white goo from their nipples as they were squeezed and milked by the inhuman monster enveloping them.

A blue-skinned head was revealed by the shifting vines, eyes glassy and tear-filled as they stared blindly into space. Snakes stuffed the woman’s mouth to the breaking point, oozing a constant stream of thick, milk-coloured slime. More tentacles slithered and writhed over her head, forcing into one nostril and out the other, penetrating her ears and crawling into her very brain, all the while leaking their thick, foul slime inside and over the poor lost whore.

There were others, so many others, more than Hope could count. Women who had fallen into the beast’s embrace and were now nothing more than warm, wet, slimy hosts for the infinite tentacles.

If Janet had landed in the valley, Hope couldn’t see her, let alone save her, not as a thick pillar of green flesh whipped her out of the air and sent her crashing into the merciless clutches of its fellow tentacles.

“N… no!” Hope shrieked, trying to rise to her feet and scramble out of reach. At her tiny size she at least had a moment to hope, finding purchase on top of one tendril and sprinting desperately along it before a hundred more crashed down on top of her. “Nooo! S… Scott! Somebody! Anybody!”

She was submerged, swallowed, being pulled down further every second. Her only hope was to grow and blast her way free by expanding to giant size, but what then? Fight? That was hopeless. Run? Not leaving poor Cassie to her doom. What could she do?

Nothing.

Because as the tentacles brushed her glove and activated her resizing, she realised there was no hope.

She was too deep, surrounded on all sides, even if she grew to a hundred feet tall she wouldn’t reach the surface.

Metal creaked, glass cracked, as tentacles squeezed down on Hope’s helmet. Her entire body was already being molested, hungry touches on every inch of her suited skin, but especially against her panicked, heaving bust, her sensitive crotch, and the tight, muscular swell of her ass.

Her throat was wrapped. Her limbs were pulled out as far as they would go without popping out of their sockets. She was squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed until…

Crunch.

Hope sobbed and shrieked as her helmet buckled under the pressure. Yellow glass shattered and tumbled into her face, only to be brushed aside as the tendrils rushed in, slithering over her face and bathing her with their slime.

Now inside her helmet, all it took was one good flex and the metal shell burst away from Hope’s head, her last defence obliterated.

She gasped as the grip on her neck tightened, throttling her, only for the tentacles to rush her open lips and fill her. One alone was the width of a cock she could have comfortably handled inside her mouth, but it just never stopped, sliding deeper and deeper inside her with every pump until she could feel it inside her chest. Then another one teased past her lips, then another, and another.

She felt her suit rip, and the cold slimy embrace of the tendrils ooze their way over her body more and more.

Her tits burst free and were immediately assaulted, wrapped and squeezed and milked. Tears sparkled in Hope’s eyes and a muffled, wet scream of horror echoed out of her occupied mouth as she felt a faint stinging pain and realised that the tentacles weren’t just squeezing her tits, they were penetrating her nipples, coiling inside her breasts themselves and filling them with yet more thick, sweet slime.

By the time her cunt was speared, Hope was barely conscious, choking and gurgling on the honey-flavoured goo and thick, warm tendrils making her throat into their cumdump. Her eyes crossed as unwanted and unexpected pleasure coursed through her, her pussy gladly accepting it’s merciless stuffing.

Spasming and shaking, Hope felt herself cum as the tendrils worked into her womb itself and began to stretch it from the inside out. Her ass gaped agonisingly, her intestines and stomach equally stuffed and stretched, her entire belly swelling up to hyper-pregnant size as more cum and tentacles wormed inside her than she could even imagine.

It was unrelenting, and inescapable, and incredible!

Hope whined through her nose, lashes fluttering as she came again just moments later.

Why did it have to feel so good?

Was this it, the rest of her life?

God she didn’t even hate that thought anymore. A lifetime of being eternally fucked and stretched and filled so completely sounded better and better by the second.

Her eyes began to droop as oxygen was starved out of her, but as her lids began to lower, she saw a warm orange glow.

An eye.

A single tentacle worked its way to the front of the coiling cocoon, opening to reveal a fat, bulbous, grapefruit sized eyeball that stared deeply into Hope’s rapidly emptying head.

Hope stared back, thoughts sluggish and stupid, beginning to understand.

She hadn’t landed on a beast, or a monster.

She’d landed in a GOD.

And her God welcomed her into its embrace. She would be immortal, beloved, a being of pure carnal pleasure for the rest of time, and all she had to do in return was sit and be filled and let her God use her soft, slutty body as a breeding hole for their endless eggs.

Insanity took Hope Van Dyne’s mind as she stared into the eye of a being older than time, from far, far deeper below than the Quantum Realm, and the last thought to pass through her brain before her God bathed it in their sperm was…

“Praise.”

Dreamer's Little Dreams

Nia Nal, AKA Dreamer, has been having the strangest dreams herself lately. Each night in her sleep she finds herself being flirted with and seduced by her friends, weirder still, Kara, Alex, and Lena have all been acting far more friendly lately even when she's awake! Who knows what the cause of these strange dreams is, but Nia can't help but wonder if soon they'll become reality...

This pic made by the wonderful Loreleia!

Talon Exposed.

After a difficult battle with Overwatch, the ladies of Talon walk away victorious, even if their outfits aren't exactly intact. Widowmaker is far too well conditioned to care about her nudity, but woe befall anyone who makes a pass at Moira. Meanwhile Sombra can't help but notice how much good publicity a little show of skin brings.

This pic made by the wonderful Dinoboy!

Massive Effects. 1. The Goddess' Gift.

This is the first of a new series of transformation-focussed Mass Effect stories.

TW: Futa, transformation (obs), mild body horror.

-o-o-o-

A rapturous sigh drifted through the dark, intimate confines of Jane Shepard’s cabin, bursting from the ruby lips of the galaxy’s saviour happily and giddily.

Candlelight and ethereal ribbons of liquid reflections danced over the dark room, and the two entangled bodies within.

Shepard moaned and rolled her body close to the sapphire beauty laying atop her, chewing on a deep blue lip as her hands caressed her beloved’s supple waist. She sighed again as her mouth broke free of the asari above her, pressing her forehead tight to Liara T’soni’s. Her green eyes stared deeply into her lover’s bright blue, emeralds and sapphires shining with love at one another.

“Heh.” She chuckled, a broad grin spreading across her face as her laugh turned into a giggle that just wouldn’t stop.

Liara frowned, lifting up a little and staring down baffled as her girlfriend began to convulse and howl with giddy delight, covering her mouth with her hands, tears sparkling in her eyes.

“Did I… do something funny?”

Her tone was nervous, and honestly a little hurt, but in an instant Shepard wrapped her entire body around her, legs crossing behind her waist and powerful arms squeezing her ribs.

“Oh my god… oh… oh Liara… I… I’m alive!” she grinned in between ragged, joyful gasps. “We’re alive! Can you believe it!?”

Liara smiled and began to laugh too at the ridiculousness, the amazing truth that, despite everything, they were alive. The Reapers were gone. A war that had raged for millions of years, had ended countless lives, was over.

They had made it.

Liara was no worse for wear, but the battle hadn’t been kind to her human bondmate. Shepard was a career soldier, she’d faced everything from pirates to thresher maws, krogan to klixen, and her chiselled, muscular physique bore the scars to prove it. Bullet wounds, burns, knife cuts, plasma shocks, it was all catalogued in pale white or smooth pink on her creamy flesh.

Having a space station explode and collapse on top of her was a new one though, something even the legendary Commander Shepard almost hadn’t walked away from. Sickly red trenches still glowed across her skin, her implants just barely holding her body together even after weeks of recovery. If Liara hadn’t forced The Normandy to fly into the heart of the inferno instead of fleeing, if she hadn’t leapt from the ship and raced through the still disintegrating wreckage, Jane wouldn’t be lying beside her right now.

If she’d been just an hour later, Doctor Chakwas said there would have been almost no chance of Shepard pulling through, and even then she’d been comatose for days, Liara staying by her side every moment of every day.

But she hadn’t been, and Jane had woken up, and despite all the things they’d faced and all the odds stacked against them, they were alive!

The pair howled with laughter and wrestled on the bed, rolling over and squeezing close and savouring the feel of one another’s skin, the sound of their voices, the simple warmth of their embrace.

“Oh goddess… you are ridiculous.” Liara breathed, wiping her eye and kissing Jane’s cheek.

“You’re incredible.” Shepard replied, staring into Liara’s eyes and stroking her palm over the asari’s soft stomach. She bit her lip, hands sliding lower to where the asari’s heavy cock was resting at half-mast, a thick azure serpent gently pulsing against Shepard’s thigh. Just the gentle touch sent a shock of electricity through Liara.

“I want a baby.”

Liara blinked. “W… what?”

“I want your baby… I want to be a mom, I want us to be moms.” Shepard breathed eagerly, squeezing Liara’s erection and pressing her entire musclebound physique snug with Liara’s more buxom body. “Put a beautiful blue baby in me, Liara.”

When Liara had thought about becoming a mother before, be it idle speculation or in response to Jane’s cheeky flirting, there had always been so much fear, so much worry and insecurity. Would she be a good mother, would she let her child down like Benezia had her? Could she bear to create a new life with Shepard, only to lose her in a few short decades and be left with a broken heart and a child who might not even remember her father?

There was no doubt now.

Just red, hot, boiling, need.

Liara’s lips crashed against Shepard’s, her hands gripping jane by the wrists and pinning her down on the bed with a growl of lust. Shepard squeaked and melted beneath her, tongue swirling around Liara’s invading muscle, her thighs spread eagerly and palms caressing the tight blue swell of Liara’s gorgeous azure peach.

The touch of Shepard’s fingers against her cock had sent a thrill down Liara’s spine. The warm, wet kiss of her eager cunt against the throbbing navy tip of her pole was like being struck by lightning.

Liara snarled again and forced her mouth away from Shepard’s gasping lips, a bridge of spit connecting their tongues as she arched her back, lined herself up, and watched herself disappear into her mate’s blushing pink pussy.

“Ouuhhhhh.” Liara moaned, eyes closed with total delight as the first inch or two of her fat blue meat eased into the sucking hole of her human girlfriend. As always, the sensation of being inside Shepard was incomparable, tight and wet and silky smooth, gently squeezing and urging her deeper with primal insistence.

“Ahnn! Yessss, Liaraaa.” Jane groaned, squeezing her ass tighter, trying to pull Liara into herself to the root.

“Goddess, you’re… so tight.” Liara panted, hips pumping all by themselves as a heat more intense than she’d ever felt before burned through her body. Every time she and jane made love it was magical, whether it was soft and tender and romantic like their very first night together, or hard and hot and passionate, the desperate fucking of two women who just needed to let off steam with someone they loved. But tonight something in the back of her mind was whispering to her, something primal, animalistic, something that made her snarl and buck her hips hard.

Shepard’s muscular thighs clenched around Liara’s waist, her bulging biceps straining and tensing as she squeezed her arms around the asari’s ribs in a desperate bearhug. Her short crimson hair was damp with sweat already, her brow tense and tight as she bit down on her own lip to stifle her sobs of pleasure.  Her breasts, small and firm, pressed against Liara’s huge, womanly bosom and got lost in their softness. Even after their long time apart Liara had never pounded her so brutally, so needily, and it was making her melt entirely.

People always got Shepard and Liara’s relationship wrong when they saw them, only the crew of the Normandy and a few select others knowing the truth about the two women’s love. Whilst Shepard was tall and muscular and commanding, and Liara was soft and quiet and curvaceous, their bodies in no way reflected their roles when it came to lovemaking.

For such an amazonian powerhouse of a woman, Shepard was always putty in Liara’s hands. All her physical power, her leadership, her intellect and passion, it all melted away into a submissive haze as her asari lover spread her thighs and pushed into her sacred chamber.

And Liara, the soft-spoken, bookish young maiden, transformed into a hungry, dominant stud. She would press her plump sapphire tits around Shepard’s face and have her bathe them with her tongue. She would sit her tight round ass down on the redhead’s lips and enjoy the gleeful attention of human mouth and hands against her. She would present her cock, a proud eight inches of azure asari dick, and let Shepard do what came naturally to her: worship.

The pair had explored one another’s bodies, hearts, and minds thoroughly in their years of love, and each knew what her beloved craved, but tonight was about something else.

“Sooo… deeeep!” Shepard cried out, clawing at Liara’s back, a dull throbbing sensation like a heartbeat pulsing through her entire body with every thrust of Liara’s hips. Her fingernails left shallow gouges in the asari’s skin, making Liara snarl with pain and pound her cock into Shepard even harder, as if trying to punish her.

Liara had never felt out of control before, not like this, and never with Shepard in her bed. Her body moved by some strange, feral will. Her mind clouded over with need and a soft, whispering, encouraging presence. As she fucked the woman she adored, love slowly stopped meaning anything to her. This wasn’t about expressing how much she cared for Shepard, how much being close to her meant to the young maiden, how joyful and sacred their unions always were. This wasn’t about making Shepard feel good, or even satisfying herself. This wasn’t about celebrating their survival, or making the most of what felt like an amazing second chance.

This was about breeding.

As the goddess commanded.

“L… Liara… I’m cumming!” Shepard squeaked, clinging to Liara for dear life as she was fucked into insanity.

Liara only growled in response, grabbing her by the cheek and pulling her into a fiery kiss as her own eyes burned black.

Biotic flames licked over both women’s bodies as they continued to rut, their lips crashing and hips thrusting even as their minds were swept away somewhere far beyond mortal comprehension.

“Oh god oh god oh goooood!” Shepard howled as, floating in the vast starry night of Liara’s bond, her asari lover only fucked her harder.

Liara felt powerful, energised, as a warm glow began to envelop her entire body. The bond was always an amazing, orgasmic experience but tonight it was somehow amplified. She could feel her and Shepard’s minds and souls melting together until they were one, feel Shepard’s bliss, her passion, mingling with her own as they became a single entity.

She could feel her own cock stretching Shepard’s pussy, taste her own spit on the commander’s tongue, smell the wine on her own breath as her mouth crashed against Jane’s.

“Breed me.” Jane’s voice pleaded wordlessly, echoing through the starry night as the pair lazily spun and fucked through the open sky.

“I’m going to. I’m going to impregnate you, fill you with my daughters, make you the mother of my children. Of Asari children!” Liara’s voice growled in response.

“Good.”

Neither woman reacted to the third voice that purred into the air around them, feeling the word reverberate inside their own skulls comfortably and naturally, as if it had always been there.

“Breed.”

The voice encouraged, an insistent, yet gentle tone.

“Multiply.”

“Recover.”

“Expand.”

Shepard trembled, eyes wide as Liara’s tongue pressed into her mouth. Her hands gripping her lover by the waist and yanked herself down Liara’s cock one last, brutal, thrusting time. Her orgasm bled into Liara’s, mixing like ink and water, as an all-consuming heat bloomed in her womb.

Liara’s seed burned like lava as it burst into her, glowing white-hot so intensely Shepard’s belly began to glow as she was filled. With every gush, Jane could feel herself swell, her eggs shining as they rushed to meet asari sperm charging them as eagerly as she herself had embraced Liara.

The heat diffused instantly inside her, permeating her entire body from her womb outwards until she was aglow with bliss, but Liara’s seed never stopped. Shepard could feel the glow in her stomach spread, throbbing and pulsing like an inferno through her helpless fertile form. Her breasts were shining now, her chest lit up from within as her heart raced. Her arms, her throat, began to illuminate, as the light crept up her skin and glittered with every touch of Liara’s flesh to hers.

From the tips of her fingers to the roots of her hair, everything began to burn. Shepard’s eyes flashed open like two tiny sapphire suns, staring adoringly into Liara’s eyes as, at the heart of the wildfire, her womb throbbed.

“My children…” the voice smiled. “Your journey has only just begun.”

The bond faded.

Liara and Shepard lay locked together, panting for breath and drenched with sweat. They savoured the bliss for a moment longer, feeling the hot, sticky pressing of their skin, the wet oozing at where they were joined, the heavy breaths that washed over one another’s faces.

At last, Liara swallowed and opened her eyes, smiling as she pried her forehead away from Jane’s and propped herself up on her elbows. Beneath her, Shepard let out a weak moan as her lover moved away, eyes fluttering open as well as she stared up at the asari who had bred her.

“Don’t go… I wanna cuddle.”

Liara blinked in surprise, not at Shepard’s words, but at the bright, dazzling sky-blue colour of her eyes.

“Shepard… are you alright?” she asked slowly, thinking for a moment she was just seeing things. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, but when she looked back down Jane’s heavy-lidded gaze was as blue as her own.

“Mmmmm, you’ve never fucked me like that before.” Jane purred, stroking Liara’s arms as she basked in the afterglow. She sighed happily, wriggling down into the bed and letting out a quiet groan of arousal. “If that didn’t get me pregnant I don’t know what will.”

“Jane, your eyes… they’re blue!” Liara said nervously.

“What?” Jane smiled, confused as to whether Liara was being serious or if this was some kind of joke. “Don’t be stupid, come cuddle with me.” she reached up to draw the asari sat on her lap down against her, but paused, eyes widening in surprise and alarm as she saw the tips of her fingers were stained a soft blue colour.

“Sh… Shepard!” Liara gasped, pulling herself free of her lover’s cunt with a wet slurping sound. As her pearl white seed began to seep from Shepard’s petals, it stood out all the more clearly against the soft cerulean flesh of her lover’s womanhood. “What’s happening to you?”

“Is there something on your skin?” Jane frowned, staring at her hands and then to Liara. “Is this a prank?”

“Something’s wrong!”

“C’mon, I’m not falling for th… this.” Shepard grinned, a little anxious despite herself, before a soft gasp burst from her lips. It was as if some invisible finger had gently reached out and stroked her clit, a thrill of pleasure arcing through her body and making her hair stand on end. She bit her lip to stifle a moan and reached down, caressing her swollen blue cunt with her stained fingers. “Wh… whoa…”

“Jane?”

“Ohhhhh my god.” Shepard moaned heavily, lashes fluttering and back arching as another throb of pleasure coursed through her. “Oh wooow… Liara… what are you d… doing to me?”

“I’m not doing anything!” Liara insisted, reaching down to try and lift Shepard up, only for the redhead to grab her wrists and bring her hands instead down to her sopping azure.

“Don’t staaaawp!” Shepard moaned happily and fell back on the bed, a blue finger clenched between her teeth as she guided Liara’s palm against her mound and began to roll her hips against her.

The strange stain was spreading more by the second, coating the inside of Shepard’s thighs, creeping up her crotch to her navel like someone had spilled paint over her. Trickles of blue were beginning to ooze down her skin from her fingers too, colouring her forearms and beginning to spread out even further. Where Shepard chewed on her finger, her lips began to turn a deep navy, just touching the tainted skin enough to spread the colour further.

“Don’t be afraid, my child.” The voice breathed in Liara’s ear as Jane quivered and spread her cunt wide, inviting Liara’s fingers into her gushing insides. “Please your mate, the mother of your children…”

Liara groaned quietly and bit her lip too, cock suddenly painfully hard and heavy between her legs. She began to pump into Shepard, curling her fingers inside the squealing human slut as the blueness began to overtake her entire body.

Soon every inch of Shepard was a pale baby blue just a few shades lighter than Liara’s own skin. Her lips and nipples a rich, dark hue that Liara found irresistible, and her wet, open holes painted purple.

“Oh goddddessss!” Jane howled, purple tongue lolling from her lips as she fucked herself on Liara’s hand, hips working into a frenzy as she mauled her tight blue tit with a hungry palm.

“Jane… by the goddess… I don’t believe it.” Liara whispered in awe and terror, as Shepard squealed and came around her fingers.

As Jane’s eyes turned black and a high-pitched orgasmic squeak burst from her lips, her rich red hair began to shed. Slender strands of copper began to fall away from her scalp, tumbling down onto the sheets, sticking to her sweat-licked forehead. Liara had just enough time to think about how, strangely, Shepard managed to pull off a bald blue head, when a scream of pain and pleasure came rushing out of Jane’s mouth.

The sound was equal parts agonised and orgasmic, Shepard’s black eyes rolling in her head, her tongue lolling as she arched her back and splattered Liara with her nectar. A muffled, disgusting crunching sound hid just under her howl of lust, as Jane’s round bald head began to bulge and swell. With the cracking of morphing bones and the stretching of azure skin, Jane came and came and came her brains away, the smooth roundness of her head reshaping into a proud asari crest.

“Godddessssssssss!” Shepard screeched, thrashing about on the bed, gushing like a fountain against Liara’s hand, before an explosion of biotic light rocketed through the entire cabin. The lights dimmed and an alarm started blaring somewhere in the decks below, but as faint blue sparks drifted down and started to settle, everything went quiet.

Liara winced, forcing her eyes to open and bringing her hands away from where they had risen to shield her face from the blast.

In the middle of the bed, in a crater of quim-stained sheets and loose red hair, was a blinking, beautiful, baby-blue-skinned asari. Her body was muscular, her hips wide and breasts small, her cerulean flesh soft and flawless from the tips of her toes to the point of her crest.

“W… what…?” the woman said, voice soft and sensual. She looked up at Liara with big blue eyes the size of moons. “Liara?”

“Sh… Shepard?”

“My daughters.”

Both asari yelped in surprise and leapt into one another’s arms, turning to stare up at the gigantic blue figure that had appeared behind them.

The woman was colossal, filling the entire cabin as she towered over the trembling pair and smiled kindly down at them. Her skin seemed to change colours by the second, flowing from pale blues to deeper shades of purple and everything in between, ribbons like water reflections playing across her naked body.

She was gorgeous too, long, long legs with thick, soft thighs that swept elegantly into her broad, baby-bearing hips. Her waist cinched inwards to give her an amazing hourglass figure, before ballooning outwards to support a pair of breasts the size of each of the women beneath hers heads. Liara saw her face, and thought for an instant it was her mother before blinking and seeing Aethyta, then Samara, then Sha’ira, the features of a dozen matriarchs all smiling down to her.

“Who…?” she croaked, cradling Shepard in her arms. The question died in her throat, there was no doubt in her mind as to who, or what, was standing in front of her.

Shaking from head to toe, she prostrated herself on the bed. “Goddess.”

“Hello, Liara.”

Liara trembled. “You… know my name?”

“I know all my daughters, isn’t that right, Olympia?”

Liara hesitantly raised her head and watched as Shepard climbed down and stood before the glowing form of Athame herself. She looked tiny, all her muscle and presence seeming utterly insignificant before the cosmic allmother.

“Olympia?” Shepard asked, voice meek, as Athame reached out and caressed her cheek.

“That is your name, my child.” Athame breathed. “Your new name. Your true name.”

“Olympia.” Shepard repeated, smiling with delight and nuzzling against her goddess’ palm. “Yes… yeah that’s me… that feels right.”

“Of course it does, my child.” The goddess chucked, before drawing her close to her breast and embracing her. Liara whimpered jealously as Olympia sank her face into Athame’s bosom and wrapped her arms around the goddess’ mighty waist, squeezing as tight to her as she could. Athame glanced up at her, lip curling, as she took Olympia’s head in one massive palm and guided her to her fat azure nipple. “Why do you cower there, Liara? Don’t you want to embrace your goddess?”

“M… may I?” Liara asked, mouth watering as she crawled on all fours to the edge of the bed.

“Come, hold me close, feel my skin, taste my flesh, hear my voice.”

Liara scrambled close, hugging Athame desperately and beginning to thrust her cock against the goddess’ voluminous thigh. Just like Olympia, as she kissed and licked and sucked at the amazing blue surface of Athame’s breast, the goddess stooped and tilted Liara’s chin upwards, bringing her lips to a huge, dark nipple.

As both young asari chewed and sucked and clung to the allmother, Athame began to coo down to them.

“So many of your sisters perished in the cataclysm… so many of my daughters lost before their time. My sacred garden stands in ruin, all but abandoned, unguarded against the unworthy… my temples left to ruin.”

Liara and Olympia whined despairingly and shook their heads as much as they were able to without dislodging their goddess’ teats from their mouths.

“Do not fear.” Athame smiled, stroking their crests lovingly. “The Asari will not fall today, not whilst their goddess still smiles upon them. You are my champions, my chosen favourite children… you will go forth and multiply. You will replenish the worlds of this galaxy with sacred asari lives, be it by enlightening them with your seed, or birthing them from your bountiful womb. You will be queens of the new empire, mothers to the next generations. All will love and obey you, and through that adoration, they will know that I love them in return.”

The goddess pulled the two worshipping girls away from her and kissed them each on the forehead before pressing their lips together. As Liara and Olympia lost themselves in the warm, wet embrace of their kiss, the goddess left them, the sound of her loving, maternal laughter hanging in the air.

-o-o-o-

“Specialist Traynor, would you please come to the Commander’s Cabin for your performance review?” Olympia purred into the intercom, giggling and wiggling her tight blue backside back against Liara T’soni’s groping palm.

“Shhhh!” Liara grinned, giving her a sharp smack before cutting the comm. “You’re gonna spook her!”

“It’s fine, they don’t suspect a thing!” Olympia giggled, sinking down to her knees and pushing in between the two freshly christened asari currently tongue-bathing Liara’s towering cock.

Asara, formerly Ashley Williams, whined as Olympia forced her aside and locked her lips over Liara’s head, beginning to bob back and forth. “No fair, you’re already pregnant! I wanna go next!” she complained, taking a heavy, fertile blue ball in her purple tongue and squeezing it hungrily.

“No me!” Mirana, formerly Miranda Lawson, begged. “Breed me Liara, breed me over and over and over!” She cradled Liara’s thigh in her arms and humped her leg like a dog, drooling over Liara’s thumb as her stud petted her.

“Goddess, you’re all such needy sluts.” Liara laughed, biting her lip as Olympia sank further down her pole, dazzling blue eyes staring up at her adoringly. “I promise I’ll impregnate you both… we just need to transform the rest of the crew before they can get suspicious.”

“First Traynor.” Olympia purred, “She’ll make it so much easier to bring in everyone that’s left.”

“Then Jack, I wanna see her perfected like me!” Mirana nodded eagerly, “No more of those ugly tattoos or stupid clothes, just a beautiful naked asari slut ready for you to breed!”

“When we’re done, let’s go back to earth!” Asara pleaded, “You can purify my mommy, and my sisters, and then the whole planet too!”

Liara chuckled as the three young asari bickered and slobbered over her cock, smiling down and caressing their beautiful blue crests. Soon enough the entire crew would be asari, pregnant with her daughters and devoted to the goddess. They would arrive to earth quickly, and from there she would lead her sisters in converting the entire human race into loyal Asari, ready to worship at Athame’s feet and found a beautiful blue new empire that would spread across the stars.

The goddess had commanded her to go forth and multiply, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Until everyone in the galaxy was asari.

SPOOKY SEASON POLL 2024

As a shameless Halloween fan, i can't let this season pass without some celebration. So here is a bonus poll open to all to decide who will get up to some spooky shenanigans this October:

Tiny Tina: Unstable teenaged explosives expert, Tiny Tina strikes terror in all who cross her path in the wastelands of Pandora. The lucky ones are blown to bits, the others may be forced to play Bunkers and Badasses with her.

Steph Gingrich: Former Blackwell Academy student and friend to Chloe Price, Steph's love of music and DnD led her away from Arcadia Bay and all the way to Haven Springs. Steph's role as dungeon master and dj are yet to land her the girl of her dreams, but she remains hopeful...

Wasp, AKA Hope Van Dyne: Daughter of the original Wasp, Hope grew embittered towards her father for failing to save her mother's life, but eventually sealed this rift and inherited her mother's persona as partner to Ant-man and and Avenger in her own right. Headstrong and capable enough to back it up, Hope is a formidable, if tiny, hero.

Kim-redeemable

So sorry for the absence everyone! Here's the result of August's poll!

After being struck by the villainous Electronique's modified Attitudinator, Shego was transformed from ruthless villain into well-meaning hero. In the ensuing battle, one Kim Possible was also impacted by the morality-reversing ray, turning the world's premier teenaged superspy into the greatest threat the world had ever seen.

TW: Mind control, teen.

-o-o-o-

Just a few inches to the left and the world might have been saved, that was all it would have taken, but alas, Ron Stoppable could always be counted on to screw things up.

The fight had been over, Electronique had been defeated, Team Go restored to their ‘normal’ ‘good’ selves. Even Shego had been left with her personality reversed, no more an evil supervillainess, but a sweet, helpful hero that was honestly adorable.

Then an errant beam of crimson from the attitudinator had cut through the air thanks to Ron’s meddling, not striking Shego, but the redheaded superspy standing just beside her.

An evil Ron was annoying. An evil Shego was a genuine threat to the world when she was in the mood. An evil Kim Possible? That was practically apocalyptic.

The first weeks had been eerily quiet as the world’s best teenaged superspy simply vanished off the face of the earth. She was a ghost, a shadow. Equipment started vanishing, then people, former allies and enemies and strangers alike all gone without a trace.

Security footage recovered from the site of her disappearance showed Ron and Drakken’s vaporisation. Eye-witnesses in a half-dozen world cities confirmed Shego’s presence at Kim’s side as she appeared and disappeared across the entire planet seemingly at random. Survivors of Electronique’s prison escort talked about a redhead and a green woman leading the massacre and kidnapping their prisoner. The head of GJ was stolen from the heart of her own facility. People ranging from students of Middelton high to the world’s most dangerous criminals disappeared, their only connection being former friendships or rivalries with Kim.

By the time Kim Possible revealed herself again, it was too late for anyone to stop her.

-o-o-o-

Kimberly Ann Possible awoke in her luxurious bed with a soft, contented sigh. The silk sheets slid over her naked body like a lover’s hands, the warm morning air brushing her pale skin as the sound of the city drifted through her ears. Her city. Her planet.

Life as Supreme Empress of the planet Earth was so much nicer than being just a basic average girl.

Eyes still closed, she reached out her hands in either direction in a languid stretch, not finding the edges of the bed, or one of her lovers.

She sighed again, this time with annoyance, and raised on hand.

With a snap of her fingers a quiet thrum echoed through the entire building, and soon the clattering of stiletto heels began to echo.

“G… gosh Kimmie, I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were awake!” a familiar chipper, albeit nervous voice called out.

Kim’s lips curled and she sat herself up, admiring the blushing green form of Miss Go.

Yes, after being hit by the Attitudinator herself, Shego had been completely transformed from ruthless villainess into a somewhat ditzy, though still capable and dangerous, woman. Kim had quickly fixed that though, both with a few more mind-melting blasts and weeks of intensive ‘training,’ turning goody-two-shoes Miss Go into an obedient and utterly loyal servant. She had made sure to reward Electronique handsomely for reworking the Attitudinator from a simple morality-switching device to a more precise and useful tool too, before turning the weapon on her of course, Kim didn’t leave loose ends.

The pale-green bombshell was dressed in her usual ensemble, her curvaceous upper body squeezed into a tight tan blazer over a rich blue blouse unbuttoned scandalously low to show off her full green cleavage. Her broad hips were snug in a tight, short pencil skirt that only came to her mid-thigh, leaving her long legs bare all the way down to her towering heels.

Miss Go’s eyes were wide, her face twisted into an anxious, yet hopeful expression, the former supervillain clearly desperate to please her mistress.

Kim smiled and raised a single leg, letting the silk slide off her pale body and enjoying how Miss Go’s cheeks blushed green and her big dark eyes widened ever further. “I know a way you can make it up to me.”

Miss Go swallowed and threw down the clipboard she had been clutching, leaping onto the bed and crawling to Kim’s feet.

If there was any hesitation or doubt in the green woman’s head as she pressed her tongue to her teenaged owner’s sole and began to worship her perfectly pedicured flesh, it didn’t show. If anything, Miss Go’s moans and whimpers as she bathed Kim’s foot with her mouth, kissing and licking and sucking on every inch of supple skin she could reach, would have made anyone assume it was all the older girl lived for.

In fairness, it mostly was.

Kim purred and allowed Miss Go to suck and slobber over her feet for a few minutes longer, not minding a bit as her former archnemesis clung to her desperately and lost herself in a toe-sucking trance. She would shower before heading out to survey her blossoming empire anyway, so who cared if her feet were a little spit-shined and lipstick-stained beforehand?

Besides, her favourite pet always looked so happy blushing and moaning down at her heel.

“Gosh… your feet are so cute.” Miss Go mewed, staring up at Kim with adoring eyes. She saw her mistress smile and felt utter delight glow inside her chest, quickly pressing loving kisses to each of Kim’s toes before the girl she was devoted to kicked her away. “O… oh, s… sorry Kimmie, was I doing a bad job?”

“If you were, I’d be punishing you right now.” Kim grinned, squeezing Miss Go’s cheeks between her feet before spreading her legs. Miss Go’s eyes went wide, her face burning and mouth open in a longing pant, as she stared at the pristine pink pussy of her mistress. Kim drank in the expression for a few moments, before curling a single finger. “Get to work.”

“Oh… thank you Miss Kimmie!” Miss Go sighed, eyes twinkling with delight as she crawled between Kim’s thighs and nuzzled her emerald lips to her blushing petals.

Kim bit a finger to stifle her moan of pleasure as Miss Go’s talented green tongue wriggled inside her, crossing her legs behind her slave’s head and nuzzling down into the sheets to enjoy the ride.

Hanging around with Miss Go, even before her change in perspective, had begun to make her question things about herself. Once all morality had been erased from her mind, there had been nothing to hold her back from discovering herself. It was amazing what murdering and enslaving everyone whose opinion you cared about did for a girl’s self-confidence.

So yes, Kim liked girls, to a degree that the only males who ever entered the shining citadel that was her home in the heart of Middleton were the prisoners she would have her minions experiment on, or execute, depending on the day.

Miss Go might have been her favourite, evidenced by how often the green-skinned beauty found herself in Kim’s bed, or under her desk, or anywhere else Kim went, but she was by no means the only woman in Kim’s stable of lesbian lovers.

Almost any pretty woman who crossed Kim’s path was liable to end up with a ‘job’ in her skyscraper home, particularly those with previous relationships with her be it good or not. For example, Kim and Miss Go’s morning fun had not gone unobserved.

In the corner of Kim’s sprawling bedroom, knelt on all fours, gagged and bound, was Bonnie Rockwaller. Kim’s old high school rival lived her life as a piece of art at best, and sentient furniture at worst. Some days Kim would use the once bitchy and mean-spirited girl as a mannequin to assess how her outfits looked before a public appearance, others, like today, Bonnie would be frozen in place, horribly aware of everything around her, but unable to do a thing as Kim used her as a chair, or footstool, or whatever else her vicious mind could dream up.

Bonnie stared out of the corner of her eyes at the bed, watching as Miss Go lovingly devoured Kim’s cunt. Saliva built up behind the red ball gag that had plugged her mouth for the past months, the vibrators that eternally buzzed inside her holes sending throbs of unwanted pleasure through her every second of every day. She hated Kim more than anything she could imagine, but as she was, paralysed and harmless, all she could do was cum and stare at her owner having fun.

There were others too, though few as cruelly tortured, in fact many lived lives of comfort and perverted delight in Kim’s favour. Monique’s position as Kim’s former best friend had saved her from the worst of the Supreme Empress’ sadism, now she lived as Kim’s first lieutenant and occasional bedwarmer. When Kim couldn’t be bothered to collect a new dress or cute top from some distant country, she sent Monique. When she wanted someone dead or an example made, but was too busy with her nails or getting waxed, Monique was her executioner. Miss Go was equal parts secretary and bodyguard, always close at hand to pleasure or defend the Supreme Empress, Monique was a weapon deployed all across the world.

Doctor Ann Possible was the only member of Kim’s family who had been spared in her murderous rise to power, not that she really cared about the loss of her husband and sons anymore. She spent her days keeping Kim’s slaves healthy and powerful, whether it was patching them up after her daughter’s occasional rages or overenthusiastic training sessions, or recklessly experimenting on anyone and anything she could get her hands on. Kim was feared and loved by all those in her employ, Ann was just feared: a beautiful, charming monster of a woman as likely to take her lovers apart as to take them to her bed, if it meant pleasing her megalomaniacal daughter.

Most of Kim’s ‘collection’ were merely sex slaves. Those without special powers or training, or without a particular history with Kim, were trained into total obedience and utter depravity. The only morals that guided the women that smiled and flirted and fucked their lives away in the Empress’ skyscraper was Kim’s will.

There were favourites, of course, for example the lovely Doctor Betty Director, once head of the most powerful crime-fighting organisation in the world, now just a perpetually horny milf who danced and devoured her Empress’ teenaged pussy without a moment’s hesitation. Former global superstars M.C. Honey and Britina had abandoned the spotlight to be perpetual sluts in Kim’s harem, the only singing they did being the squeals and moans of orgasmic bliss that poured from their talented mouths.

Former villains and rivals of Kim filled the halls of her home as well, brainwashed and bubbly, content to fuck their lives away. Electronique was of course chief amongst them, enjoying her ‘reward’ for assisting Kim’s rise to power by being the Empress’ chief ‘gadget’ developer and tester. In reality this boiled down to her creating and testing a never ending flood of sex-toys that she and her fellow brainwashed slaves enjoyed.

Similarly, Camille Leon’s shapeshifting talents had been turned away from villainy, and into whoredom. The bitchy heiress and socialite now using her powers for good, if transforming into whoever or whatever her dozens of other lesbian lovers in Kim’s harem desired could be described as ‘good.’

Warmonga might once have been one of Kim’s deadliest enemies, but now was little more than a musclebound bimbo, happy to use her alien strength and exotic allure to pound her way through her Empress’ harem. The Fashionistas Espadrille and Hoodie’s obsession with clothes had been warped into a joyful nudist lifestyle, one they tried to recruit anyone and everyone they could into, chiefly by fucking their brains out. Summer Gale’s terror at aging out of her profession had been erased by a new life as a milf surrounded by younger girls desperate to pleasure and learn from her. Adrena Lynn didn’t need death-defying stunts to get a thrill anymore, not when there were so many people ready to see how freaky they could get together.

There were too many others to count, more than Kim could name certainly, but only one of them was her favourite.

Kim purred and sat down on Bonnie’s back at her vanity, admiring herself in the mirror. As she indulged her narcissism and basked in the afterglow of Miss Go’s excellent tongue-fucking, her expression grew cold. Behind her, though in clear view of her mirror, Miss Go had picked up a pair of Kim’s silky panties and was clutching them to her face, lashes fluttering with delight as she drank in her owner’s scent without permission.

“Oh Miss Go, you were doing such a great job.” Kim sighed, running her fingers through her silky scarlet hair to fluff it out a little. As she spoke, she reached down into a small drawer in the vanity and pulling out a sleek black gun. “But not good enough. I think it’s time for a change.”

Miss Go’s lower lip quivered as Kim levelled the gun directly between her eyes and smirked at her. “I… I’m sorry Kimmie. I’ll be more fun, I… we… we can go shopping! Or roller-skating! Or… um… I’m sure I can find a new art museum we can go to and add some things to your collection?”

Her tone was pleading, but strangely it seemed like she was more upset at disappointing her mistress than the gun. The reason for this became apparent as Kim clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Sorry, but seeing as I’ll have to clean myself up, I might as well have a workout too.”

A scarlet blast rocketed out of Kim’s gun and washed over Miss Go, knocking her back a few steps on her stilettos. A pained whine escaped the green woman’s lips as she clutched her head, her dark hair falling over her face as she doubled over.

As quickly as it had hit, the beam dissipated, and Miss Go straightened up. Kim smirked, completely unbothered, as her submissive plaything swept her hair out of her furious face, and leapt snarling towards her.

“You brat!” Shego growled, a bolt of emerald energy flying from her fist as she threw a punch hard enough to take the teenager’s head clean off if it connected.

It didn’t.

Kim sidestepped and grabbed Shego’s arm, twisting and hauling the older woman off her feet and bringing her crashing down onto the floor.

Instantly, Shego spun and lashed out with her legs, kicking Kim in the ribs and knocking her back. With an athletic flip, she was back on her feet, once again charging her redheaded mistress with fists glowing and teeth gnashed.

“I… hate… being… her!” Shego spat, punching a crater into the floor where Kim had been standing, the lithe redhead leaping aside just a second before she could strike. “Stop using that fucking ray on me!”

“But you’re so cute!” Kim cooed, dodging another trio of blasts from Shego before sweeping her legs out from under her. “You never blush like she does when I tease you.”

Shego snarled and tried to leap back to her feet, only for Kim’s shins to clap down on either side of her wrist as the redhead rolled over her back, grabbed her free hand in both of hers, and pulled on both sides with all her strength.

“Whugh!” was all Shego could say as all of Kim’s weight forced her flat on her face, her arms forced to spread wide as Kim locked her in place.

“I wanted a workout, Shego.” Kim teased, “You’re not losing on purpose, are you?”

“You… stupid… cheerleader… bitch!” Shego spat, straining as best she could against her mistress’ hold, but not making any progress. “Don’t make me fry you!”

“You couldn’t if you triiied.” Kim mocked in a sing-song voice, tugging Shego’s arms out just a little and making the green woman hiss with pain. “Come on Shego, you’re older than me, you’re stronger than me… can’t you escape?”

“Get… off!”

“Is the big bad supervillain helpless?”

“Fuck you!”

Kim laughed and released Shego, kicking her flat onto her face and hopping onto her feet.

As Shego rose up onto her knees, Kim’s fingers sank into her hair and gripped her scalp tight, drawing a humiliated hiss from her lips. Her dark eyes scowled up at Kim as she was forced to stare up at her, black lip quivering angrily even as arousal flushed through her at Kim’s smirk.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, minion.” Kim cooed, drawing Shego’s face against her pussy and petting her head. “C’mon, give mistress a kiss and I’ll let you keep your brain for the rest of the day.”

Shego glowered, lips already pressed against Kim’s warm, wet petals but refusing to open until at last her gaze broke away from her owner’s and she meekly extended her tongue into Kim’s delicious pinkness.

Kim purred and guided Shego deeper, enjoying her favourite plaything’s talented tongue and daydreaming about which nation she would most like to see turned into her personal shopping mall.

Wet Hot Gallifreyan Summer

The Doctor and Yaz have all of time and space at their fingertips, but sometimes all a girl needs is a day at the beach. Sun, fun, and plenty of cute boys to admire their new swimsuits... what more could a time-traveller want?

This piece was done by the wonderful Loreleia!

My Doctor. Chapter Three.

Since her last misadventure, The Doctor has become withdrawn from Yaz. Luckily for the sadistic psychic, it's nothing a little innocent underwear shopping won't fix.

-o-o-o-

The Doctor had been quiet all day, for the first time Yaz had seen. She was honestly impressed the blonde had managed to keep herself from running her mouth for more than a few minutes, but she had to begrudgingly admit a lot of The Doctor’s charm was her exuberance and dorky personality.

After a quiet breakfast they’d taken a quiet drive into town and quietly wandered through a few shops and boutiques buying The Doctor’s new wardrobe. Her and the blonde’s arms were now draped with bags filled with skirts, sundresses, blouses and all manner of other cute tops and tight leggings that would have The Doctor looking like the sweet, feminine slave Yaz was moulding her into. It had been fun, but Yaz was bored of quiet.

Clothes shopping was how she relaxed, how she unwound after a stressful day of… well to be honest the most stressful thing she ever had to deal with was when her staff weren’t pulling their weight, but yelling at them strained her voice, and she definitely deserved a little retail therapy afterwards. It wasn’t what she did to have a good time.

She sighed softly and looked The Doctor up and down as she sat across the table from her at a nice café she liked. She’d put her into a knee-length pastel blue dress, high collared and sleeveless. She looked beautiful, especially once Yaz had convinced her to sit still long enough to do her makeup.

“How is your coffee?” She asked.

The Doctor pulled a face. “You know… I don’t think I actually like coffee anymore. It’s all bitter and smoky.”

“You didn’t say anything this morning, I would have made you something else.” Yaz frowned.

“Eh, I didn’t want to be a pain. I always used to like it back before I changed. New tastebuds, new likes and dislikes, it’s all part of the experience.” The Doctor shrugged, avoiding eye contact and brushing some hair behind her ear. She’d been shy and withdrawn all morning since her first adventure with masturbation, clearly deeply uncomfortable with how intense her experience had been, and how Yaz had featured in her sudden lewd fantasy.

“Why don’t I get you some tea then, or a juice? What would you like to drink?”

The Doctor pondered for a while, taking a tiny sip of her espresso and savouring it as if trying to pin down precisely why she didn’t like it. After a while she hummed. “I think I’d like… something fruity.”

“Fruity?” Yaz smiled. “Of course.” She waved down a waiter and ordered a raspberry tea, a plan forming in her wicked mind as The Doctor smiled happily at her. Something to come back to later.

“Doctor, can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

The Doctor blushed. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been quiet all morning, you won’t even look at me.” Yaz sighed. Just as she’d expected, no sooner had she pointed it out, The Doctor defiantly looked up directly into her eyes to prove otherwise.

Yaz’s lip curled, the eyes being the window to the soul was nonsense, poetic, but meaningless. Unless you were a psychic. Unless you could stare someone in the eye and twist their soul around your fingers. She didn’t need to look someone in the eye, she didn’t have to look at them at all really, but it was shocking how much easier it was to toy with a mind with a little eye contact.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong.” She cooed encouragingly, watching as the blonde’s pupils dilated.

“I… I… had a very strange dream last night.” The Doctor mumbled, entranced, before flushing and averting her gaze. She toyed restlessly with her tea and chewed a lip. “I don’t know, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You can tell me anything, Doctor.”

“You know I said that I used to be a man… it’s a little more complicated than that.” The Doctor sighed hesitantly. “My people… my species, we can kind of… rejuvenate ourselves, regenerate, when we get hurt or sick or we’re about to die. Our entire body, our mind, it changes into something new, like a rebirth. We’re the same person, but different. I’ve done it a dozen times, but this… this is my first time being a woman.”

“Oh… kay.” Yaz frowned. It hadn’t been what she had expected The Doctor to confess, honestly the fact that she could sense nothing but truthfulness from the blonde after that little revelation was threatening to derail her entire plan. How was she supposed to not dig deeper into that?

“You don’t believe me, do you?” The Doctor groaned, looking miserable.

Yaz shook her head. “When you first crashed down… no-one should have survived that kind of impact, but you were fine. Then later when you were unconscious, there was this kind of golden mist that came out of you. The things you know, the things you can do, I mean you built that sonic thing out of scraps. You’re clearly different, special, and… yeah, I suppose you being an alien is the best explanation I can think of.”

The Doctor smiled. “If you get a stethoscope you can listen to my hearts, if you need more proof.”

“Hearts?”

“Two hearts, six kidneys, and twenty-seven brains.” The Doctor grinned cheerfully.

“And bad dreams?” Yaz prompted.

The Doctor’s smile faltered, “It wasn’t a bad dream, not really… just very intense.”

“Because of you rejuvenating?”

“Regenerating.” The Doctor corrected, “I think it must be, I’ve never felt like that before, but I’ve also never been a woman before either. Maybe it’s normal, maybe I’m… I’m just being silly, but it’s shaken me a little and I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it.”

“Well what happened in this dream?” Yaz smiled.

The Doctor screwed up her face uncomfortably. “I don’t remember.” She lied, “You know how dreams are, but when I woke up I had these feelings, these urges.”

“Urges?” Yaz asked aloud, all the while softly pushing the compulsion to tell the whole truth into the blonde’s head.

“I… I touched myself.” The Doctor whispered. “I woke up and my body was tingling and aching and everything felt so good. I just wanted to see what it felt like, I was curious, but then it felt so intense I couldn’t stop! I… I had no idea masturbating as a woman felt so amazing, I could barely control myself!”

“Oh!” Yaz smiled, feigning surprise and a little embarrassment whilst telepathically triggering The Doctor’s pleasure centres. The blonde fidgeted and squirmed as she confessed to Yaz, body heating up again just as it had before. Just talking to her friend about this was turning her on!

“I… I made a mess of your room.” She admitted shyly, “I’m sorry. I was masturbating and I orgasmed and it just kind of… squirted out of me? And… and the dildo, your friend’s dildo, I used it. I know I shouldn’t have but I just had to know how it felt. It was like I was suddenly obsessed, so I put it inside me, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s ok, Doctor. It’s not a big deal.”

“But is it normal?” The Doctor pleaded. “Is that how it is for everyone? One minute I’m asleep, the next I can’t keep my hands of my body? I’m dreaming of sex? Fantasizing about someone making love to me, touching me instead of me touching myself?”

“of course it’s normal. Everyone masturbates.” Yaz chuckled, “I suppose you were just… pent up. Sure it’s a little embarrassing, but it’s natural, nothing to be ashamed of. I just wished you’d told me sooner, I thought something was really wrong!”

The Doctor laughed nervously. “Yeah… yeah ok… that’s good to hear.” She took a long, deep sip of her tea before clearing her throat. “Um… why don’t we get going? Lots more supplies to get!”

“Of course, we’ve still got to get you some shoes, and new underwear.” Yaz smiled, standing and picking up their bags. The Doctor looked over her shoulder, slightly confused, as they left the café without paying, but no-one seemed to care. In fact the waitress who had served them waved cheerfully to them as they passed her by, moving to clear up their table. She was about to ask if Yaz had paid beforehand and she hadn’t noticed, when the younger girl leant in close and whispered conspiratorially into her ear. “If you like, there’s a fantastic little sex shop just a few blocks away from a boutique I’m taking you to. We could pop in, see if anything takes your fancy?”

“Yaz!” The Doctor squeaked.

“It’s ok.” Yaz laughed, hugging her against her side. “Just so you don’t have to borrow my friend’s anymore. I’d lend you one of mine, but this way you can find something you really like, something that’s yours.”

The Doctor squirmed, cheeks burning. “I… I dunno.”

“We don’t have to.” Yaz promised, “But if you want to explore that particular part of being a woman, I’m happy to help.”

The many meanings of Yaz’s casual statement pinballed through The Doctor’s mind as she turned bright red and scurried along beside her smirking friend.

-o-o-o-

“So, what are we getting here?” The Doctor asked curiously as Yaz guided her through a pair of glass doors into yet another boutique. She’d almost lost count of how many they’d been in now, certainly more than she’d ever wanted to, but strangely with Yaz she didn’t find clothes shopping dull. It was exciting, both to be discovering her femininity and deepening her friendship with Yaz, more than she’d expected.

“You still need underwear.” Yaz smiled, gesturing with a casual flick of her hand at the huge, bright showroom filled with mannequins and displays. “And this is one of my favourite places to shop.”

The Doctor was blushing immediately, and decided to distract herself by focussing on the price tags rather than the curvaceous and statuesque mannequins all snug in sexy lingerie. “Th… that’s a lot of money, Yaz… I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Yaz cooed, stroking her shoulder. “I’ll take care of everything, you just focus on finding something you like.”

The Doctor chewed her lip, relaxing a little at Yaz’s words, but the thought of having so much money spent on her still made her uneasy. She didn’t want to bankrupt her best friend after all, not after everything she’d done to help already. She really should do something to pay Yaz back for all her kindness, get her a present or… something.

“I don’t really know anything about underwear.” She admitted, tabling that thought for later. “But these all seem so fancy… couldn’t we just get me some plain panties or… something?”

Yaz smiled insistently and steered her away from the display she’d been standing at, bringing her deeper into the boutique. “This is your first time being a woman, let’s make it special. Nothing but the best for my Doctor.”

My Doctor…

Her Doctor…

The blonde flushed as Yaz’s words sent a throb of arousal through her nethers, her nipples tingling pleasantly as Yaz’s palm stroked down her spine. She let herself be guided onwards, where the pair were met by a grinning young woman in a neat black suit and a golden name badge that read: Lily.

“Miss Khan, it’s wonderful to see you again!” She said brightly, seeming genuinely delighted that Yaz was in her store, so much so that it took a second for her to even acknowledged The Doctor, too busy fawning over her ‘favourite customer.’ “And you’ve brought a friend, welcome to Maison de la Soie. Is this your first time visiting us?”

“Er, yep.” The Doctor admitted awkwardly, “First time buying underwear ever, actually.”

Lily seemed confused, but smiled politely and directed her attention back to Yaz. “We’ve got some gorgeous new sets in from a new designer in Paris if you’d like to browse them Miss Khan. I was actually telling Mrs Price that we should invite you back for another modelling session, if you’re interested? You’ve just got such a spectacular figure, all your photos are so much better than the other models the agency uses.”

Lily’s tone was hopeful, her hands wringing together with excitement as Yaz chuckled and allowed herself to be shamelessly flattered.

“Maybe another time, today we’re here for my friend.” She smiled. “We’ll need a private changing room and someone to carry our things.”

Lily nodded crestfallen, but still eager to please. “Of course Miss Khan, I… I’ll take care of everything myself.”

Bemused, The Doctor followed Yaz and Lily up a short flight of stairs and into a small, well-lit room. The entire back wall was dominated by a floor-to-ceiling mirror and the room was bisected by a curtain. Yaz set down their bags by the door and started conferring with Lily about what she wanted. The Doctor couldn’t quite hear their muffled tones, but just standing in the changing room was making her hearts race again at the prospect of once again being stripped down and vulnerable before Yaz’s intense, discerning gaze.

Eventually, with a strange, hungry edge to her smile, Yaz turned back to the blonde. “Go ahead and get undressed, Doctor. I’ll find us a nice selection for you to try.”

The Doctor chewed her lip. “Um, r… right now?”

“Behind the curtain, silly.” Yaz laughed, “I’ll pass everything through once Lily has them together, then you can come out and model for me.”

“Model… for you.” The Doctor whispered, almost longingly, before shaking her head and darting away to yank the curtain closed.

Yaz licked her lip, and gave Lily a possessive kiss, grasping the girl’s tight ginger ponytail tight as her tongue pressed down on hers. She wondered how many women there were like lily out there, submissive thralls who would do anything for her at the drop of a hat. She chuckled and stroked Lily’s lips with her thumb. However many there were, it wasn’t enough.

“Run along, pet.” She breathed, giving the girl a pat on her ass as Lily raced away to find everything that matched the descriptions Yaz had given her.

Minutes later, Yaz lounged on the warm leather bench that faced the changing room’s curtain, one leg crossed casually over the other, her slender brown fingers drumming on her knee. The Doctor was stalling, she was certain of it. The blonde had been hiding behind the curtain for far longer than it would take even her to put on a simple bra, which was all Yaz had provided her, so far.

Her dark eyes wandered to the neat stack of folded lingerie Lily had so obediently gathered for her. Once The Doctor was a little more relaxed, there would be more than enough to try them all too.

“Doctor?” She called, keeping her tone calm and concerned, hiding her impatience with a smile. “Are you ok back there?”

“Yes, yeah I think so.” The Doctor replied. “Just… um, looking.”

“Well come on out then, let me see.” Yaz drawled.

The Doctor’s head poked through the curtain, flushed and nervous, her grip keeping the rich velvety fabric tightly closed to hide herself. “This is a little s… skimpy.”

“Doctor I’ve seen you naked, does it make any sense for you to by shy about me seeing you dressed?” Yaz arched a brow, her voice soft and encouraging and so comfortingly logical the blonde couldn’t help but agree.

“I guess not.” She said with a weak, embarrassed smile, and let the curtain part around her body.

She looked adorable, both thanks to the palest pink underwear hugging her curves and her shy, submissive stance. Her arms were straight at her side, her hands splayed out, her thighs rubbing tight together as she avoided Yaz’s eyes like the plague. Her slender figure was so pale and soft, suiting the baby pink fabric of her new panties wonderfully.

The panties themselves were tight and revealing, but not too slutty, hugging her mound at the front and showing off a decent amount of cheek in the back. Her bra was similar, not conservative, but not too exposing either. The soft pink cups hugged The Doctor’s petite breasts tight, joining in the middle by a tiny bow, with each strap draped gently over her shoulders.

“What do you think?” The Doctor asked quietly.

“You look beautiful.” Yaz smiled, standing up and taking her hands. She gave the blonde a squeeze and probed the pleasure centres of her brains as her eyes wandered up and down.

“It’s not too much?”

“It’s perfect, we’ll get you a few pairs. I’m thinking other pastels, blue, green…” Yaz laughed softly, turned her around to look into the mirror. Her palms stroked The Doctor’s shoulders as she made her stare at herself, voice low as she purred into her ear. “Look how they accentuate your curves, your hips look great.”

“They do?”

“Of course they do.” Yaz nodded, “Spin around, see how good it looks from the back too.”

The Doctor obeyed, peering over her shoulder at her tight round ass, now squeezed nicely by her new underwear. Even without Yaz pushing her to be aroused and approving of her femininity, she would have had to admit her butt looked great. It was perfectly sculpted, a firm swell of flesh neither too big or too soft. Paired with her lovely hips, her backside was definitely one of her most attractive aspects.

The Doctor smiled happily at the sight. “So we’ll get these then?” she asked.

“Of course, but I want you to try on a few other things too.” Yaz chuckled. “These are cute everyday underwear, but you’ll need more than just three sets of panties. Try the others on, then we can start looking at swimsuits.”

“Right, yeah… ok!” The Doctor grinned, her confidence boosted by Yaz’s approval and kind encouragement. It was like all her nervousness and insecurity about showing off her body had just melted away as soon as Yaz smiled at her. In fact, as she tugged the curtain back closed and began to fumble with the tab at the back of her bra, she found herself eager to show off more.

“What do you think?” The Doctor beamed, flinging the curtains open and striking a pose. Her body was now snug in a black brassiere and a pair of high-waisted panties that accentuated her hips and slender waist. The brassiere’s cups were a little lower on her chest, pushing up her breasts and giving her some nice cleavage, whilst also leaving everything upwards bare, fastening simply around the back without any straps.

“Love it.”

“How about this?” she asked, next emerging in a lacier baby blue ensemble. This time her bra had a plunging valley between its cups, presenting the shallow creamy expanse of The Doctor’s cleavage and the gentle curving of her breasts. Through the delicate fabric, just a hint of her nipples could be seen, rosy and erect beneath the semi-transparent blue. Her panties were again higher cut, but instead of covering her from upper thigh to lower stomach, swept down over her hips to her womanhood, leaving her legs bare all the way up. As she gave Yaz a spin, she revealed the back was equally revealing, the slender blue lace almost disappearing between her cheeks.

“Very nice.”

“This one’s a bit strappy.” The Doctor frowned, playing with the waistband of her latest ‘outfit.’ This time her bust was hugged by a rich red cage bra, plumping up her breasts and accentuating their swell with delicate ribbons. Similarly, and much to Yaz’s purring approval, The Doctor’s plump, wet pussy was snug behind a tiny triangle of fabric, lashed to her hips by equally thin bands around her hips before vanishing between her cheeks.

“Wonderful.”

Finally, The Doctor stepped eagerly out with a grin, arms spread as she spun on her heel and showed off her final ensemble to her best friend. It was by far the sluttiest pair yet, a tiny white thong that just barely covered her mound at the front and did absolutely nothing to hide the blonde’s tight rump at the back. The top was a mostly transparent white lace bralette, with only a pair of strategically placed diagonal lines on the cups to hide her nipples from view. Even so, with all of her breasts on shameless display, the warm, dark pink of her areola was obviously peeking around the miniscule modesty the bralette provided.

“Is this too much?” The blonde asked, chewing on her lip. “I feel exposed, even though I’m covered up.”

“You look gorgeous.” Yaz smiled, “See, once you find your confidence you can make anything work. Everything you’ve tried has looked brilliant on your body now you’re not squirming and trying to hide yourself away.”

The Doctor flushed, in all the excitement it had been easy to forget the nagging insecurities in her mind, but now Yaz had mentioned it she suddenly felt naked, which she essentially was.

“You picked them all out.” She mumbled shyly, brushing some blonde hair out of her face and turning to focus on the mirror rather than Yaz. Her friend looked so calm and confident lounging there, admiring her like a work of art… it was almost intimidating. Just being in Yaz’s presence made her feel feminine, a strange, warm, safe feeling that made her hearts flutter and her core heat up and her brand new sex tingle and soak.

“But you wear them well.” Yaz insisted. “You’re a beautiful woman, Doctor, nice underwear just accentuates that.”

“If you say so…”

“I do.” Yaz purred, standing up and squeezing her shoulder. The Doctor trembled just feeling Yaz’s strong, warm palm against her naked flesh, her heat flowing over and into her as she stood so close. “How about those swimsuits now? I know it’s winter, but we can’t have you out on the beach next year with nothing to wear, can we?”

The Doctor frowned. It was winter, wasn’t it? It seemed only yesterday she’d come crashing down through a train car into Yaz’s life. The time from early October to mid-November had flown by in a blink. She’d planned to do so much. Her Tardis was still missing somewhere in time and space, her new sonic screwdriver was barely functional, she had barely seen any of her new friends either, other than Yaz of course.

“Doctor?”

The blonde glanced up with a start, realising she’d completely missed what Yaz had been saying. She smiled apologetically and tugged at the straps of her bralette. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I was just saying you look good in blue.” Yaz smiled. “Go on and try on one of those bikinis, I’m going to ask Lily to fetch a few more things.”

The Doctor pouted suspiciously, but obeyed, the last thing she saw before closing the curtain to hide herself away being Yaz’s beautiful, wicked smile.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when she came back out, now wearing a small aqua two-piece. She had to admit it looked cute, the neat triangular cups leaving just a little bit of her breasts exposed to show off their curves, whilst not being indecent. The bottoms were a little skimpy, just as exposing as the thong she’d just changed out of, but she liked the sensation of a tight little pair of panties squeezing her pussy.

Yaz whistled appreciatively as she stepped out and did a spin. “Wow, I was right, blue is definitely your colour.”

“What’s that?” The Doctor frowned, looking at the bags beside Yaz which hadn’t been there before.

“Your new underwear is in this one.” Yaz shrugged with a dismissive wave at the left bag, but she grinned broadly as she picked up the one on the right. “But this… this is something special for you.”

“What is it?”

Yaz chuckled. “You’re just starting to explore your femininity and sexuality, and every beautiful woman should have at least one set of lingerie for special occasions.” She took The Doctor by the hand and led her back behind the curtain, “Now, these are a little complicated, so I’ll help you into them. You just stand there, relax, and look gorgeous.”

“Y… Yaz… I don’t know.” The Doctor whimpered as the younger girl’s deft fingers reached up and undid her bikini top’s bow with a long, slow pull. “Do i… I really need lingerie?”

“Of course you do.” Yaz replied, firmly but gently enough not to alarm the red-cheeked blonde. Her voice washed over The Doctor more and more easily with every second they spent together, and as she smiled and placed her palms on the time-lord’s hips, the blonde was already chewing her lip and leaning back against her. “When you do have sex with whoever you choose, you’ll want it to be perfect, to be special. I want that to. You’re my friend and I want the best for you, you know that.”

“Of course…” The Doctor whispered, gasping softly as Yaz pulled her bikini bottoms down to her ankles, leaving her once again nude and soaking before her new best friend. “But… can’t I dress myself?”

“There are a lot of tabs on this set, you’ve been struggling enough with just your bras.” Yaz chuckled. “Let me help, Doctor, there’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“I’m not.” The Doctor lied, biting her lip as Yaz slid a soft lace stocking up her leg to her mid-thigh, her touch so gentle and comforting. “I just… I’m not a child, I shouldn’t need you t… to dress me.”

“You don’t, but isn’t it fun?”

The Doctor’s hearts skipped a beat.

“F… fun? What do you mean?”

Yaz laughed. “Come on, Doctor. Showing you how to be feminine, teaching you how to dress, it’s fun! Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourself as much as I am?”

“I… I guess it’s fun to experiment.” She mumbled, biting her lip as Yaz slipped a tight, semi-transparent pair of lace panties up her legs and snug with her broiling cunt. The delicate brush of the girl’s fingers against her petals, even through the gossamer fabric, was almost enough to make The Doctor’s knees give way. The familiar heat that had burned through her that morning was brewing again. The Doctor wanted to masturbate.

“Ohhhhh!” she moaned heavily as Yaz’s fingers squeezed against her breasts, holding the cups of her new bralette against her before clasping it at the front. “Y… Yaz I’m… I’m feeling strange again.”

“Of course you are, look at how gorgeous you look!” Yaz chuckled, hands finally abandoning her body as a sleek pair of long lace gloves were tugged up her arms.

The Doctor trembled, thighs desperately clenched, as Yaz gently took her chin and raised her gaze to the mirror.

She looked beautiful.

Her long, supple legs were accentuated by the stockings, a pink so pale it was almost white. Her thighs squished just slightly at their tops, a bizarrely erotic sight that made The Doctor want to grope and grab herself, then imagine Yaz doing that to her, and begin to throb even more. Her feet were tiny and adorable, the curve of her calves elegant, but those thighs were hypnotic, sweeping up and into her hips.

The panties now squeezing her sopping virgin womanhood were already beginning to darken as she drooled on them, but it was barely noticeable given how mostly transparent they were to begin with. Only dainty floral patterns, petals and coiling vines, along with a slender triangle that actually covered her lips, were fully opaque. Everything else was on display. Crossing over with the thin waistband was an equally elegant garter belt, resting over her hips and accentuating her waist, clipped neatly down onto each stocking.

Her svelte belly was bare and sweet all the way up to her cleavage, where the bralette hugged her snug. Her petite breasts were heaving with excitement, stretching the same semi-transparent fabric that just barely covered her cunt. The same twisting flowers coiled over her curves, a single bloom covering each nipple, but very little else. The Doctor could see the darker pink of her areola just peeking around the petals, and the sharp, hard rises beneath them where her aching nipples towered.

Her shaking hands were covered by the gloves, with the pink flowing upwards all the way up to her mid-bicep. Her throat, rising as she swallowed with equal lust and terror, was embraced with a lace choker, and then that was it.

She hadn’t felt so exposed even when she had been standing in front of Yaz actually nude. This was such a different sensation, this wasn’t just being naked, a casual, natural state, this was her body being wrapped up like a present to be opened and enjoyed. This was her being prepared to have sex, nothing more, nothing less.

And she looked so good.

“Give me a smile, Doctor.” Yaz breathed in her ear, and The Doctor happily obeyed.

“I look… beautiful.” She whispered. “Thank you.”

Yaz’s lip curled.

“You’re welcome.”

The Royal Treatment

Result of the July Poll.

Things were tough for Wakanda following Thanos' invasion. Even with the damage of the mad titan's genocide undone, without their king and protector, the once-mighty nation began to fall apart. Luckily, the refugees of Asgard were happy to step up where Wakandan leadership failed, leaving Princess Shuri free to show her thanks to Wakanda's new protectors: The Avengers.

TW: mild raceplay, teen, gilf, free-use, mind control.

-o-o-o-

Wakanda had stood proud for ten thousand years, since the mighty Bashenga himself found the heart-shaped herb and united the warring tribes as the first Black Panther. For ten thousand years the nation had grown, and flourished, and held its ground against rivals and enemies both from within and beyond its borders. For ten thousand years it had been a bastion of culture and art and music and technology untouched by colonialism and imperialism. For ten thousands years, the Black Panther had stood proudly and ruled the people they were sworn to protect.

Until now.

Now the Black Panther knelt, and lovingly bathed a pair of full Norse balls with her tongue.

Shuri groaned with arousal, her slender brown fingers stroking over the heavy black leather of Thor’s breeches as she nuzzled against his godly cock. Her big dark eyes stared up at her god-king with nothing but adoration, her plush lips open wide and her hot, wet tongue coiling around the thick white length draped over her face.

It had been a strange few years for the once-mighty nation of Wakanda. First their beautiful homeland had become a battleground as an alien madman did what no one in history had done, and defeated Wakanda’s defenders. Half of the population had been erased, not just Wakanda but the entire universe, and Shuri had been amongst them. In her and her brother’s absence her mother, Ramonda, had rallied the survivors and restored some sense of normalcy, but the damage had been done.

Even once Thanos’ genocide had been reversed, Wakanda hadn’t been able to recover. Their spirit was broken, their pride sundered, and things had only continued to get worse.

T’challa was gone, and Shuri’s synthetic Heart-shaped herb had proven to be no replacement for the sacred plants burned by Kilmonger. She was Black Panther in name only, with no power to protect her people, and as Ramonda’s rule crumbled and the age of Wakanda’s end came rushing to meet them, all the last survivors of Bashenga’s line could do was step aside.

The refugees of Asgard had been welcomed in as friends in the dark days following Thanos’ atrocity, and for a time all had been well. They were a proud and advanced people just like Wakanda, but other than a few mild cultural clashes, had proven to be valued allies and respected guests. That respectful balance began to shift, however, as Wakanda fell apart.

At first it was subtle, the Asgardians stepped up to fill the ranks of the armies and workforces. They protected the border of their new home, gave their council to the tribal elders, advised Ramonda on how to rescue her civilisation from collapse. But now, years later, the nation once known as Wakanda was recognised internationally as New Asgard.

It hadn’t been a conquest, not really. The Asgardians had simply stepped up where Wakandan leadership had failed, politely and respectfully taking the mantle of responsibility for themselves bit by bit, until at last the queen and princess of Wakanda were leaders in name only.

Queen Valkyrie sat on the throne now, with a court of Asgardian advisors at her side and the powerless figureheads of the tribal council at her feet. The women who were supposed to lead the noble tribes of Wakanda instead spent their days serving drinks and food, fanning their Asgardian overlords, and devotedly pleasuring the pussy of their queen.

The Avengers, since the obliteration of their compound in the final battle against Thanos, had been welcomed to Wakanda with open arms. It was a safe haven, a home away from home, a secondary base of operations, and essentially a vacation spot. When Earth’s Mightiest Heroes weren’t saving the day, they were enjoying the sun, exotic food, and the doting attentions of Wakandan slaves, chief among them Ramonda and Shuri themselves.

The royal women of Wakanda let their new queen worry about ruling, all they concerned themselves with was keeping their heroic houseguests happy at all times, however they desired.

And so Shuri was spending her morning naked and kneeling in the large open lounge of the new Avengers Tower, formerly her own laboratory. Her slender brown body glistened with oils, her pert little tits heaving, dark nipples pierced with ornate rings of both Vibranium and Asgardian Uru. Her piercings were matched around her throat by her collar, gorgeously forged and intricately engraved with Norse patterns, her only piece of clothing both fit for a princess, and suitable for a fuckslave.

She moaned wetly, popping the prince of thunder’s ball out of her mouth and panting for breath before delivering a long, loving lick from Thor’s base up to his throbbing head.

“May I please take you inside me, daddy?” Shuri simpered, batting her lashes up at the blond avenger who was, at the moment, more concerned with Fortnite than the African teenager gurgling on his godhood.

“Hm? Oh, yes, by all means Princess, see how deep you can go.” Thor smiled fondly, giving her a patronising pat on the head before returning his attention to his video game.

Shuri smiled too, not minding the dismissal, before opening her mouth and enveloping Thor’s cock with her pillowy lips. She enjoyed seeing Thor happy, he was probably her favourite Avenger to pleasure, but he’d been through such a hard time over the past years. His depression at failing to stop Thanos had turned him from a proud, statuesque Adonis into a sad, haunted, pot-bellied wreck. Shuri had, of course, spent more time than she could count sucking, stroking, and bouncing on his cock to cheer him up to no avail, but at last it seemed he was back in good spirits, not to mention shape.

The princess of Wakanda purred approvingly, her nubile throat opening up inch by inch as she sank down onto Thor’s cock. Her eyes admired the sculpted abs, pecs, and biceps of the god of thunder as she gagged and bobbed her face up and down. Thor was such a handsome specimen, even if Shuri hadn’t been slowly transformed into a meek white-cock addicted fuckdoll, she would have begged to climb him like a tree.

It was funny, when news of the Avengers had first reached Wakanda, Shuri would have never imagined having sex with a white man, now she wasn’t satisfied unless she’d been stuffed full by at least three each day. If she’d been in a more cognisant state, Shuri might have wondered what caused that change, but as always there were cocks to suck, cum to devour, and a hungry throb in her ebony cunt that could only be satisfied by white meat.

Who had time to think when there was work to do? And Shuri loved nothing more than her work.

“Gluck, gluck, gluck, gluck!”

The sounds of an African throat slobbering and gagging on Norse cock filled the warm Wakandan air as Shuri did what she did best. Her thick brown lips sucked and slurped over pale white cockmeat. Her wet young tongue coiled and stroked and licked with glee, savouring the taste of godly dick. Her scalp stung pleasantly as Thor absent mindedly reached down and grabbed her thick black braids and used them as reigns to facefuck the little African slut harder.

Reaching down between her quaking thighs, Shuri sank two fingers into her sopping ebony fuckhole, lashes fluttering as she spread her petals wide and exposed the gushing vulnerable pinkness of her pussy to the air. She ached to have someone or something fill the ravenous void inside her, luckily Thor wasn’t the only Avenger awake.

“Starting early today, big guy?” Captain Marvel laughed, wandering into the lounge in a tank top and sweatpants, a mug of coffee in her hand.

“Jealous are we, Captain?” Thor smirked, glancing up from his game and clutching Shuri’s skull against his lap a little tighter.

“Oh I’ve had my fun with my Dora bedwarmers already.” Carol shrugged, “But this cutie’s always fun to take for a ride.”

“Well she’s taken.”

“Her mouth is.” Carol smiled sweetly, setting down her mug and giving Shuri’s rump a sharp smack. “Legs straight, kid, ass up.”

“Ggluh… yesh… yesh mommy.” Shuri burbled, forcing her face off Thor’s pole with a gush of spit and precum down her chin. No sooner had she obeyed Carol was palming her tight black butt, her calloused fingers exploring the sopping cleft of Shuri’s royal cunt and making her tremble even more.

Thor grunted with annoyance, but with Shuri’s lips returned to his cock had little to complain about, instead refocussing on the match.

As time went on and Shuri was assaulted from both ends by gorgeous blonde avengers, more of Earth’s Mightiest wandered in to join, enjoy their breakfasts, or just pass through on their way to other submissive Wakandan sluts.

Ramonda herself staggered in just as Shuri’s cheeks were filled with the prince of thunder’s load, biting her lip with jealousy as she watched Thor’s seed leak from her daughter’s lips. Behind the former queen, Steve Rogers walked into the room stretching and looking satisfied. He gave Ramonda a fond grope to her fat brown breast and kissed her cheek.

The white-haired royal was blushing and panting from use, her legs quivering and massive tits heaving. She melted into the supersoldier’s touch with a whimper, legs spreading on instinct to display the heavily creampied mess of her fertile ebony cunt.

“Hah… th… thank you Captain Rogers.” Ramonda panted, chewing on her lip as her hands wandered towards the captain’s crotch yet again. “M… may I get you anything else?”

“You’ve been too kind already, Ma’am.” Steve smiled, giving the naked queen a respectful nod before marching away. No sooner had he left, a pale palm crashed against Ramonda’s gigantic black bubblebutt, the sound of the impact ringing out across the entire lounge, along with the former queen’s squeak of arousal.

“Waste not, want not, your majesty.” Black Widow grinned, looping her arm around Ramonda’s waist and forcefully guiding her down onto one of the couches. “Those super-swimmers might not knock you up, but that’s no excuse to let them go.”

“O… of course, miss Romanov.” Ramonda blushed, parting her legs and displaying the slick, plump mound of her eager royal cunt. She trembled as Natasha’s fingers dipped inside her, scooping up the huge oozing mess escaping her womb and bringing it to her lips.

Shuri felt a jealous thrill run down her spine as she watched her mother lick Captain America’s cum and her own nectar from Black Widow’s dainty fingers. She could only imagine how that decadent treat must have felt slithering down her throat.

She sighed longingly, but dutifully re-focussed on Thor’s cock, hard and ready again after just a few moments. Behind her, Carol chuckled, watching as Shuri clutched the god’s meat against her cheek and began to lick it clean. Her strong hand glowed with cosmic light and the princess of Wakanda squealed, her poor pussy buzzing and glowing around the Captain’s fingers. Clearly she wasn’t going to let Thor hog all the attention.

“May I ride you daddy?” Shuri moaned, fighting to remain sane as Carol’s super-fingers worked her clit like the world’s best vibrator. “Stuff my… tight little hole with… with your big… white… coooock!”

Thor grunted. “Damn it Carol, can’t you find your own?”

“I’ll fight you for it.” Captain Marvel grinned back, patting Shuri’s trembling butt and ramming another finger inside her.

Thor rolled his eyes and pushed Shuri off himself, spinning her around and yanking her hips down onto his cock. Shuri’s squeal of delight was cut short as she was quickly submerged in blonde pussy, Carol’s fist closing on her hair and forcing her face between her thighs.

Stretched by godly cock at one end, and smothered in blonde-haired pussy at the other, Shuri reflected on how much happier she was now that Wakanda had been conquered. A pleasant yellow glow glimmered behind her eyes as she set about her work and did her duty with delight, unnoticed by all, as usual.

Even if anyone had seen it, it wouldn’t have mattered. The mind stone’s influence on the women of Wakanda was total, and with the stone destroyed there was no going back.

Shuri wouldn’t have wanted to anyway, not when being a submissive slut for white cock made her so happy, and so she purred with delight and bounced her ass and worked her tongue and embraced her destiny. Like every woman in her once great nation, she was nothing more than a slave to her craving for white cock.

POLL OPTIONS

Here is the full list of options I am currently considering for the monthly polls. If you would like to add someone feel free to message me or drop them in the comments, this is by no means set in stone!

(Commission) The Rat Queen Chapter 3

Irikit's adventures with Morathi are interrupted by the arrival of Countess Isabella Von Carstein, Vampire Matriarch of Sylvania. With a new powerful, not to mention voluptuous, patron demanding that she creates fresh monsters for her, Irikit finds herself starting over. She's transformed one evil bitch from a stuck-up cunt looking down her nose at her into a sloppy fat-assed skaven-loving slut, how hard could a second one be?

CW: Futa, Furry, Mind Control, Blood (Vampires, duh. But no gore.) Cheating, Drugs.

-o-o-o-

Irikit was nervous as she sat atop a gleaming obsidian carriage and watched the gloomy fortress of Morathi pass behind the mountain crags out of view.

It was strange how fond she’d gotten of the place after a few months. When she’d first arrived she’d been admittedly terrified, Morathi’s reputation and the intimidating majesty of her home making her seriously consider turning tail and running. She was glad she hadn’t, and not just because Morathi’s tight ass around her cock was the best feeling she’d ever enjoyed.

But now she was leaving, and yes, it had been her choice technically, but that choice had been made mostly out of her own greed and lust. Now she was having to think about the fact her new patron was expecting her own legion of war-beasts, and that Clan Moulder was not going to be happy to hear she had promised their resources to yet another outsider without approval.

Irikit chewed on a fingernail restlessly and pulled on her whiskers. Moulder would come around, Morathi’s riches and support had already made them masters of their old rivals, any retribution against her for overstepping her remit as their ambassador would jeopardise that newfound power. They would give her what she needed… probably.

It was just typical that her new patron would share the same repulsion towards Skaven as Morathi, as well as her spectacular figure. Irikit hadn’t even been given a horse, not that horses liked her any more than she liked them, instead being told to sit up in the vacant driver’s seat of the carriage, alone and exposed as she began her journey. The carriage bounced slightly and Irikit clutched her perch a little tighter, scowling down at the glossy black roof her new patron was hiding beneath.

Right at that moment, Countess Isabella von Carstein was comfortably lounging within the luxurious, lightless confines of her carriage without a care in the world. Irikit could only imagine what she was doing in there, reclining with a glass of virgin’s blood, reading some ancient evil text, masturbating… The gorgeous vampiress was as mysterious as she was devastating, but whilst fantasising about the voluptuous undead beauty kindled a pleasant warmth in Irikit’s loins, it didn’t do much to keep her warm as the clouds grew thick and the rain began to gently patter down onto her.

The miserable little Skaven tugged her hood and cloak a little tighter to her skinny frame and dreamed about being toasty and content, lounging on Morathi’s ginormous asscheeks with her stomach full and her balls emptied.

She was going to make Isabella pay for this indignity, sooner rather than later.

-o-o-o-

Sooner rather than later.

What a joke.

Irikit sulked to herself as she sat waiting in the lavish gothic masterpiece that was the Castle Drakenhof’s meeting hall. It was the only room of the castle she’d been given access to outside of the dungeons and catacombs below, her hosts refusing to allow her anywhere she might ‘dirty’ by her mere presence.

It had been weeks now, her plans to break in Isabella faltering the instant she was escorted by a dozen armed guards to the gates of the castle itself, and met there by the lord of all vampiredom: Vlad von Carstein.

Irikit didn’t know what Isabella saw in him, the withered old git. He was a shrivelled, walking, noseless corpse, a cadaver trussed up in fancy armour. Whilst Isabella was everything soft and squishy and curvy, Vlad was just skin, bones, and hatred, particularly for her.

Even if Irikit had been able to get Isabella alone for a few moments to dose her, Vlad was never far away from her, lurking and skulking about like a nuisance. Didn’t he have better things to do than follow his beautiful wife around? A vampire war to win? A mortal empire to conquer? Why couldn’t he just piss off and let Irikit take Isabella somewhere nice and comfy and pound her ridiculous undead bubblebutt from dusk until dawn?

Her work had been going well, at least, but Irikit truthfully couldn’t have given less of a shit. She could make warbeasts and ratogres in her sleep, it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t a challenge. She’d only left Morathi’s soft, squishy ass behind for a taste of some new pussy, but she was no closer to getting it now than she had been when she was clinging to the top of that damned carriage.

The doors to the meeting hall swung open and Isabella swept in. As usual she looked stunning and severe, her paper-white skin and platinum blonde hair flawless as moonlight. Her gigantic tits wobbled and swayed in her battle corset, milky breastmeat so supple and soft Irikit ached to just nuzzle her face into them and see how far she could dive. Isabella’s hands were on her cinched waist, thrusting her chest forwards, but accentuating her truly gargantuan backside even more. If anything her hips were even wider than Morathi’s, and her ass was a huge, tight peach of meat that begged to be enjoyed with every step. Her blazing blue eyes looked Irikit over with a sneer of disgust.

“Rodent, your progress with your project?”

Irikit forced a smile and bowed. “Twenty beasts ready for your purposes, my lady.” She peered hopefully past Isabella to the open doors. “Is the count not joining us this evening?”

Isabella’s lip curled derisively. “My beloved has even lower tolerance for you than I do, beast.” She hissed, raising her nose. “My husband is leading our forces into glorious bloodshed, I remain to rule. Make no mistake, you will find I am no less deadly or demanding, and I am far less patient.”

“Of course, my lady.” Irikit cooed with delight, ears perking up as it seemed her luck was finally beginning to turn. She fidgeted excitedly with her rings, aching to gas the smug vampiress and give her something new to suck on. “I would never imply you were any less capable of ruling mighty Sylvania than dear Vlad. In fact, I would wager you’re ten times the stateswoman he could ever hope to be.”

Isabella shuddered with revulsion. “Ugh, was that an attempt at flattery? You’d make even my stomach turn, rodent.”

“I would never dare flatter a married woman.” Irikit grinned, “Let alone one of your noble status.”

“Good, because if I suspected you of all people were lusting after me, I’d have you neutered and flayed on a pike. Not even my bats would touch your fetid corpse, and I would never degrade my magics by raising your filth. You’d be the only rotting corpse in all of Sylvania to never rise again.” Isabelle snarled, baring her fangs and looming over Irikit. The room around her seemed to darken, the candles flickering low as the mistress of the castle towered over a tiny Skaven, face a mask of menacing fury.

Poof.

Isabella choked as Irikit smirked up at her, raised a hand, and spat a plume of thick green smoke directly into her face. The smell was disgusting, but as Isabella coughed and spluttered she couldn’t help but breathe it in deeper and deeper, her logical mind and some strange animal instinct clashing.

The Countess staggered back a few steps, her mighty bosom swelling as she struggled for breath, clutching her throat. “Wh… what was… how dare… by the night what is that awful stench!?”

Irikit grinned, watching as Isabella’s glowing blue eyes took on a slightly tealish hue. “Whatever are you talking about, dear countess?”

She reached out cautiously and touched a finger to Isabella’s heaving chest. The vampire was still reeling from her gassing, and only blinked down at her in confusion. “Wh… what are you… doing?”

“Nothing to fret about, just hold still.”

Irikit pressed her palm against Isabella’s breast and squeezed it tight, watching with delight as her milky-white flesh enveloped her fingers like dough, practically spilling around her as she sank her paw into the Countess’ tit.

It was cool and soft, no warmth or heartbeat meeting Irikit’s fingers as she slid her palm down into the cup of Isabella’s corset and found the vampiress’ nipple. A quiet, confused sigh passed Isabella’s lips, her brow creasing, but it wasn’t until Irikit pulled her heavy breast out into the cold castle air that she stirred.

“R… release me, vermin!” she boomed suddenly, backhanding Irikit across the muzzle and sending the little Skaven sprawling. “How dare you!?”

Irikit scrambled onto all fours, eyes wide with terror as Isabella bared her fangs in outrage. The faint green light mingling with the blue of her eyes was still present, but faint and fading more by the second. “F… forgive me, my lady, I meant no offense. I merely wanted to… to correct your wardrobe malfunction before any of your subjects could see.”

It was a desperate lie, but to Irikit’s relief instead of rage and indignance, Isabella looked down at her in confusion.

“What?”

Irikit scrambled to her feet and bowed lowly. “Your breast, dear countess. Your corset must be ill-fitting, it has exposed you!”

Isabella looked down at herself and hissed, hurriedly scooping her plump, pale tit up and forcing it back into her corset. It took both hands, the gigantic undead udder spilling out of its owner’s fingers, wobbling and jiggling until at last it had been stuffed back inside.

Irikit licked her lips, but kept her composure, feigning contrition will well-practiced skill. “Much better, my lady. I would suggest punishing your tailor, they’re clearly incompetent.”

Isabella sneered. “Oh there will be blood spilled for this, mark my words, but don’t think for a second that my tailor will be the only one who bleeds if you speak a word of this to anyone.” She quickly inspected the rest of her regalia, scowling suspiciously at every thread, button and clasp, before scoffing and turning on her heel.

Irikit rubbed her cheek reproachfully as the vampire swept away.

“I would never.”

-o-o-o-

Why hadn’t the gas worked?

It was a question that was deadly important for obvious reasons, but as Irikit sat hunched in her lab and pawed over her notes, it was mostly from an indignant sense of wounded pride. Breaking Morathi had been the first great success of her life, the only great success of her life. It had turned her from powerless reviled runt into a woman of power, and now that power was failing her.

Behind her a polite cough sounded, or at least as polite the vampire in question could muster after being summoned to her dungeons. She was one of the intermediaries Isabella had arranged to keep herself from having to see Irikit any more than absolutely necessary, and she didn’t seem particularly happy with the arrangement either. She was a beautiful creature, tall and slender and refined, but next to Isabella even the most lovely of women seemed boring.

“You wanted a human?” the vampire drawled, shoving a waifish girl into Irikit’s makeshift lab. “I assume she’s not for feeding?”

Irikit flashed a crooked smirk. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then why request her?” The vampire sighed, “I understood that you were only using fellow Skaven to manufacture your monsters, what use is a bloodbag like this?”

Irikit plucked a heavy bag off her workbench and rolled it over in her palm. “I have a few personal projects too, like these gas bombs, and I need test subjects to clear up a few questions I have.” Without warning, she lobbed the bomb directly at the vampire’s feet, watching curiously as both the undead woman and the shivering mortal girl were blanketed in green smoke.

As she’d grown to expect, the girl stumbled out of the mist moaning and trembling with need, falling to her knees and panting as her hands began to wander her body. However, as the haze began to clear, the vampire remained standing in place, swaying slightly from side to side, looking confused.

“How do you feel?” Irikit frowned, pattering past the masturbating wreck of her human test subject and looking the vampire over.

“I… I don’t… where… what am I…” the vampire mumbled, her eyes faintly lit up green as she stared around the room. Irikit’s nose twitched curiously and she grabbed hold of the addled woman’s chest. “H… hey! How dare you lay your filthy paws on me!”

“Damn.” Irikit scowled, letting the vampire’s tits go and jetting another plume of gas into her face from her rings. “So it’s your undead nature that’s the problem then… it’s enough to confuse and sedate you, but not enough for anything fun.”

“Hwahhhh.” A soft moan came from behind her, and she turned her head to see the girl spreading her slick pink petals with her fingers, drooling down her chin as she exposed her burning hot hole to the cool air. “Rattie… rattie come fuck me… fill me upppp!”

Irikit grunted and looked back up at the vampire who, aside from a faint flush in her mostly bloodless cheeks, didn’t look hot under the collar at all.

With a little trouble, she managed to scoop up the babbling girl and haul her to where the undead woman was still standing and peering vacantly around the room. With a heavy groan of effort, Irikit shoved the girl up against the vampire and did her best to balance the pair of addled whores so they didn’t just collapse. Once girl and monster were standing chest to chest, leaning against one another equally out of their minds, Irikit took a step back and wiped her brow.

She really needed to get herself a servant with some muscle, doing all this heavy lifting herself was ridiculous.

Another gas bomb arced through the air and burst at the pair’s feet, once again drowning them in mind-melting emerald mist. A confused moan echoed out of the haze from the vampire, along with an orgasmic squeak from the girl, teetering on the edge of total insanity thanks to the dangerously high dose flooding her system.

Irikit stepped close and began lathering the mindless waif’s throat with the concentrated liquid mindkiller, thick droplets of green goo rolling down the girl’s neck as she cooed at its cold, thick texture. She placed a palm on the back of the vampire’s head and pushed her face flush with the quivering neck of her victim. It took a while, but with a sharp smack to her ass and the alluring scent of Irikit’s gas and a vulnerable meal focussing her mind, the vampire sank her fangs into the waif and began to drink.

In an instant, her eyes began to glow green and her moans of satisfaction at a good meal transformed into lustful groans and whimpers. Her hips quaked and her hands squeezed the girl desperately, confusion giving way to all-consuming heat.

“Feel good?” Irikit smiled, lifting the vampire’s skirt and palming her jiggling rump. A delighted moan of confirmation rumbled out of a pair of bloodied lips, the vampire pushing her backside against Irikit’s palms as she feasted and transformed her silky panties into a sopping mess.

So, gassing an undead bitch didn’t get the right effect, but spiking their meals? That did the trick.

Irikit chuckled to herself and gave her test subjects an approving smack to their asses and they moaned, grunted, and ground their bodies tight against one another.

-o-o-o-

Countess Isabella von Carstein was a woman of refinement. Whilst lesser vampires hunted like beasts and drained their prey in the mud and filth, she preferred a more civilised meal. Oh, she loved a good hunt as much as anyone, more than anyone in fact, it was just that she preferred to be on horseback, watching her hounds and hawks do the messy work of dragging her prey down. When her prey was in her clutches, she’d feed them to her favourite servants or acolytes, never dirtying her fangs with anything but the purest blood.

The Blood Chalice of Bathori glittered in her pale palm as she lounged in her throne and swirled the rich red contents of her unholy relic around. The heirloom of her family, the von Draks, had been in her possession for centuries, forged by her grandmother, the late countess Bathori. From its gorgeous golden cup sprang a never ending font of fresh, pure, delicious blood, and Isabella never sullied her palate with anything else.

She took a long, luxurious draft, eyes closed contentedly as the thick, cool lifeblood slipped down her throat, only to be rudely interrupted as the doors to the banquet hall opened. Her fury at being disturbed mid-meal only grew worse as she saw Irikit smiling and scurrying towards her.

“You were ordered to remain below.” Isabella snarled, standing and raising her hand. In an instant, a half-dozen vampiric guards coalesced out of the shadows, blades drawn. “I will not have my home befouled by your kind, rodent!”

“Forgive me, countess, but I have a message I must deliver most urgently.” Irikit bowed, passing by the guards with little more than a wary glance and kneeling at Isabella’s feet. “I would not trust such deadly information with any intermediary.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “You do not trust those in my court?”

“None but your ears must hear what I have to say, oh countess.” Irikit nodded solemnly. “Even the most loyal seeming servants might be swayed by jealousy or greed at the information I must speak.”

Isabella pursed her lips and looked her guards up and down. For any creature of darkness, trust was a fragile thing, half of those in her service were thralls, the others mindless hypnotised serfs, but any of them could still have enough independence to make trouble. She so hated having to put down a servant just because they aspired for a greater station than they had in her employ.

She waved a hand and, reluctantly, her guards fluttered away in a shower of bats and blackness.

Irikit stood and crept a few paces closer to Isabella, eyes drinking in her figure and making the vampiress’ skin crawl.

“Just tell me what it is that is so important!” she snapped.

“Of course.” Irikit nodded, before vaulting onto the table and dashing at Isabella before the vampire could even react. In the second her hands had slammed down her treasured goblet and her blade had been drawn, a fog of green filled her lungs and she sat heavily, spluttering and coughing.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, the very walls of her castle home warbling and rippling around her as she rested in her throne and panted for breath. Isabella watched as Irikit smiled and carefully backed away from her, quick eyes watching for any sign of aggression as her fingers closed around the chalice.

If anyone had ever dared lay their hands on such a valued heirloom whilst she was in a cognisant state, Isabella would have flayed them where they stood, but as she sat and watched Irikit paw the golden cup, all she could muster was a confused frown.

“Wh… what are you… doing?” she mumbled.

“Nothing to worry about, dear countess.” Irikit cooed, plucking a green vial from her belt and pouring it into the deep red liquid filling the chalice. “You’re just hungry, feeling a little faint, a nice long drink will make you feel so much better.”

She slid the chalice back to Isabella, who shook her head and lifted it up.

“None but I may drink from this.” She growled weakly.

“Of course, dear countess. I wouldn’t dream of tasting from such a legendary artifact.” Irikit sighed, grasping Isabella’s hands and pushing the chalice to her lips. Isabella let out a quiet groan of frustration, feeling weak as a kitten as Irikit tipped her beloved goblet and forced her to drink.

“Ahhhnn.” Isabella moaned, lashes fluttering and chest heaving as delicious blood began pouring into her, its usual iron tang mixed with something heady and salty and intoxicating. She drank, and drank, and drank, until rivers of red were pouring down her chin and dribbling onto her breasts. It tasted so good, better than ever before, and the odd sensation of being fed her meal by Irikit made her loins grow hungry.

“What did you… put in this?” she panted, licking her lips and grasping the arms of her throne tight.

“A supplement, dear countess.” Irikit shrugged innocently. “Something to boost your power, to make you even stronger. Drink up and your wounds won’t just heal, but you’ll be invulnerable to any blade forged by man.”

Isabella’s eyes glittered. “Curious… but you shouldn’t have… touched this chalice without my permission.”

“Forgive me.” Irikit purred, “It won’t happen again.”

-o-o-o-

“Bah, get away from me you repugnant worm!” Isabella roared, smacking her cupbearer across the face. “I have no more patience for your incompetence!”

She snatched up the Blood Chalice and took a drink, spitting it out disgustedly a moment later. Her blood tasted wrong, nowhere near as refreshing or delicious as she was accustomed to. How and why her most treasured heirloom had lost its ability to provide her with the gorgeous, pristine gallons of lifeblood she subsisted on was beyond her, but she promised all the dark powers in the universe she would find out who or what was responsible, and end them.

“Did you drink from this?” she demanded, ramming her sword through the younger vampire’s stomach and pinning her to the wall.

“N… never my lady.” The woman wailed, unharmed by her impalement, but still wracked with pain. “I would never betray your trust like that, I swear!”

Isabella bared her fangs. “You are the only one who I have ever allowed to touch this unholy relic. You alone have held it, polished it, taken it out of my sight. Who else could be responsible for this outrage!?”

“Dear Countess!”

Isabella’s furious expression faltered as she looked over her shoulder and frowned, seeing Irikit sauntering into the banquet hall again. “I do hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Do you know anything about this!?” Isabella growled, shaking the chalice in Irikit’s direction, spilling a wave of red onto the smooth stone tiles below.

“Oh, I would never lay my hands on something so important to you, dear countess.” Irikit chuckled. “But I do have your supplements for today, if you like I could mix them into your meal for you?”

Isabella bit her lip and released the blade still skewering her cupbearer. “Could these supplements be tainting my chalice?” she asked nervously.

“Of course not, my dear countess.” Irikit said reassuringly, raising a large potion bottle of green liquid and emptying it into the golden cup. “I haven’t the power to make anything that could affect such a legendary Sylvanian artefact. I’m just a lowly Skaven, after all.”

“Yes.” Isabella hummed, wrinkling her nose at the reminder. It was strange, lately she’d been forgetting how disgusted she was by Irikit, feeling almost… fond, of the little rat at times before her senses returned and her revulsion reasserted itself. “Of course, no filthy rodent could sully this heirloom’s power. There must be another to blame.”

She took a sip, then a long, deep, desperate drink. Both hands clutched the chalice to her lips as she swallowed greedily, neck swelling and breasts heaving with excitement in her corset as she feasted. Soft sighs and moans of delight bubbled from her smacking lips, until finally she brought the golden rim of the cup away from her mouth and released a satisfied groan.

“Drak’s fangs… that’s better.” She breathed, sinking down into her chair with a lazy smile. “Your s… supplements almost make up for the lack of flavour.”

“I’m glad.” Irikit cooed, climbing up into Isabella’s lap and nuzzling against her colossal tit.

The vampire barely blinked, simply closing her eyes and sighing contentedly as Irikit’s lips kissed and nibbled over her alabaster breast, her slender fingers squeezing and stroking her delicately.

A week ago the countess might have flown into a rage, but after consuming so much of Irikit’s special potions a dozen times a day, her mind was at last beginning to fracture. She craved her delicious supplements, her blood just didn’t taste anywhere near as delicious without them, and whenever Irikit provided them to her she felt just a little more enamoured with the little monster.

After every delicious meal she found herself full and lazy, wanting nothing more than to relax and feel good. Irikit would chuckle and caress her, fingers exploring her bust, her hips, her gigantic ass. It felt nice, and so Isabella wouldn’t complain, and by the time the high of Irikit’s drugs had faded so would her memories of being molested. All that would be left was a quiet urge in the back of her wicked mind, encouraging her to drink more of what Irikit provided, and make her Skaven mistress comfortable so the flow of delicious ‘supplements’ wouldn’t stop.

If she realised on any level that the lovely salty taste of Irikit’s potions was similar to the musky scent that emanated from the Skaven’s crotch, she didn’t draw any conscious connection.

“C… countess!” her cupbearer squeaked in horror as Irikit tugged down Isabella’s corset and began chewing on a thick, dark nipple. “Lady von Carstein, come to your senses!”

“Mrr, do be quiet you… worthless trash.” Isabella moaned, not even opening her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten your failures just because th… this rat has made up for it.”

She felt Irikit bite down on her nipple and gasped happily. Vlad was such a dispassionate lover, literally cold, but also distant. Oh, he was romantic enough, and in his way he loved her more deeply than anyone else, but when it came to sex none of that carried over. Roses and gold and jewels made for nice presents, but Isabella needed a lover to ravish her body with passion in a way Vlad simply wasn’t interested in.

In her hazy, drug-addled mind, all she was doing was enjoying a quiet moment after her supper, and the delicious sensations blossoming over her chest were simply a visceral fantasy conjured by her lustful mind. She missed her husband, she craved sex, it was only natural she indulge in some carnal fantasies. In reality, of course, Irikit was having a lovely time with her gigantic undead udders.

Smothering her face between a vampire’s tits was a very different sensation to what she’d gotten used to with Morathi. For one, Isabella’s mighty bosom was cool to the touch, unlike the warm, welcoming milkers Morathi had loved to shove against her slender furry frame. For another, whilst Isabella and Morathi’s busts were around the same size, Isabella’s were a lot firmer. Somehow, despite their incredible size and softness, they were actually quite perky, unlike Morathi’s breasts which sloped generously off her chest, too heavy to stand so proudly off her torso.

It was probably thanks to Isabella’s undead athleticism. As a vampire, and despite her frankly ridiculous proportions, she was actually quite toned and deceptively strong. Her stomach, whilst cinched and flat, hid powerful muscle, as did her slender arms, and, under a thick layer of shapely fat, her thighs.

Irikit wondered just what Isabella’s glorious body could do, she looked forward to finding out.

-o-o-o-

“Rodent!” Isabella cried out impatiently, her voice booming off the walls of Castle Drakenhof. It had been a long morning, and she was thirsty, but the little Skaven was nowhere to be seen.

She growled and planted her hands on her hips, scowling at the doors to the banquet hall. Ever since she’d beheaded her former cupbearer she’d decided to just task Irikit with the job, that way the little rat didn’t have to bring her supplements in separately and she could just enjoy her blood. Part of her still held reservations about trusting Irikit with her most treasured possession, she was still a filthy Skaven after all, but her doubts went away the second her delicious meals met her lips.

So far Irikit hadn’t let her down, but today she was being left waiting, and Isabella hated wasting time.

“IRIKIT!” She roared, only for the doors to swing open and the Skaven in question slouched in, looking uncharacteristically impatient. Ordinarily the little rat put on a pleasing show of deference, no-doubt motivated purely by self-preservation, but Isabella always appreciated fear-driven respect. “You’re late, what is the meaning of this?”

“I was busy, dear countess.” Irikit said through her teeth. “I do still have an actual job to do, beyond feeding you.”

Isabella’s nostrils flared with indignance. “Excuse me?”

“Your husband ordered three dozen warbeasts delivered to the front, I don’t intend to fail to make that delivery.” Irikit grunted. “Now, here’s your chalice, freshly topped up.”

She thrust the goblet towards Isabella who scowled but took a drink. Immediately her anger and frustration vanished and she sat her fat backside down right where she stood and gorged herself on her sperm-drugged blood.

“Plah.” She moaned, finally pulling her lips away from the goblet, tongue dangling from her lips, her eyes glittering green. In her corset her titanic tits were heaving with excitement and between her thighs a warm, hungry wetness boiled. “Drak’s fangs… I want… more!”

Irikit smirked down at her as Isabella sat at her feet, a battle raging between her own frustration, her lust, and her self-preservation. “I’m sorry, dear countess, but that’s all the supplements I have to give you.”

Isabella stared up at her, horrified. “Wh… what? That’s unacceptable! I… I demand more this instant!”

Irikit shrugged. “I have none to give. Unless you want the unrefined source?”

“The s… source?” Isabella repeated dumbly, a ravenous rumble echoing from her belly as she dipped her hand between her legs and pressed her palm to her crotch. “Yes! Yes give me that!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Feed meee!” Isabella whined, “I’m so hungry… I want… I want it!”

“If you insist.” Irikit smiled sweetly, planting one hand on Isabella’s platinum hair and yanking down her pants with the other. Isabella squeaked in surprise as she was suddenly presented with a thick, pointed pink rat cock, but the second the scent met her nostrils her already feeble mind glazed over with stupid lust. “You see, my dear countess, the key ingredient in your ‘supplements’ is my own seed. I refine it, of course, amplify my natural pheromones, mix it with many other substances to make it more potent, more easily deployed as a weapon, but at the end of the day, it’s still my cum.”

“C… cum?” Isabella mumbled, mouth open in a pant, her greenlit eyes locked onto Irikit’s erection.

“That’s right. So if you really want more, go ahead and take it.”

Isabella didn’t need to be asked twice.

The Mistress of Sylvania, Countess of Castle Drakenhof, the most feared and respected vampire matriarch in the whole world, lunged forwards and sank the first two inches of Irikit’s cock into her ravenous maw.

Irikit was actually shocked by her enthusiasm, letting out a sharp gasp as vampiric lips sealed around her shaft and began to bob and suck and slobber. Ordinarily having a vampire’s mouth anywhere near her would have filled her with nothing but fear, but after a long, hard, overworked week balancing the making of warbeasts, doting on Isabella, and making sure that she didn’t overplay her hand in drugging the vampiress into subservient sluttiness, she’d earned a little fun.

Her hands stroked through Isabella’s hair as the voluptuous undead milf began to greedily inhale her cock, sliding her dark lips up and down, her tongue swirling desperately around Irikit’s pole. She was obsessive, ravenous, and Irikit loved it. Isabella was so much more pleasant when she was slobbering on a cock and not smugly looking down her nose at her.

“You’re a hungry old whore, aren’t you Izzy?” Irikit groaned, taking a firmer grasp of Isabella’s hair and using it as leverage to thrust into her undead face. “You’ve been chugging down my spunk for weeks now, and loving it.”

Isabella moaned and stared up at her, eyes glazed over with pleasure as her addiction was fed. She was barely conscious of Irikit’s words, just liking the sound of her mistress’ voice, unaware of what she was really doing at all. In her hazy, sluggish mind Irikit was simply providing her more delicious supplements, not fucking her face like she were a common street whore and not a lady of status and power.

As Irikit used her face as a fuckhole harder and faster by the second, Isabella could only gurgle and bubble happily, her hands pawing at her cunt through her clothes as the taste of Irikit’s disgusting Skaven spunk bathed her tongue. She was in heat, centuries of unfulfilled desire and lust all boiling to the surface as after so long she was properly pleasured.

“Take it… take my dick you stuck up bitch.” Irikit hissed, biting her lip as Isabella’s mouth slid down to her base and gagged there for a moment. “Gods… I’m almost there!”

Spit and precum oozed down Isabella’s chin as Irikit moaned loudly and yanked her face up and down her cock even faster until her eyes were rattling her in her skull. Then, finally, deliciously, Irikit began cumming down her throat.

The vampire matriarch quivered and came in her pants, going limp in Irikit’s grasp as the thick, virile flavour of sperm pumped into her sloppy facehole. Her eyes blazed green and rolled back in her head as the most satisfying, filling meal of her unlife was fed to her. Her tits wobbled, her ass jiggled, her lips sucked and slurped and smacked, as she wriggled in place and savoured the taste of Skaven spunk.

After what felt like an eternity, Irikit pulled away, shooting one final rope of sperm over Isabella’s pale face from her forehead down to her lolling tongue.

“You… fucking bloodsucking cocksucker slut.” The little Skaven sighed, stroking her own whiskers happily and stretching. “I needed that.”

Isabella swallowed heavily and smiled too, her lipstick smeared and eyeliner ruined and her stomach wonderfully full.

“Go clean yourself up, Izzy… fun as this was I really do have to finish those monsters for your fucking husband.” Irikit said reluctantly after a few moments basking in the afterglow of her well-earned victory.

“O… of course.” Isabella agreed, lips curling into a smile, cum still dribbling off her fangs as she looked up at her beloved rat queen. “It’s… such important work. But… but I’ll need more s… supplements with my supper, w… won’t I?”

“Yes you will, Izzy, you greedy little harlot.” Irikit chuckled, patting her on the head like a common mutt. “But why don’t you enjoy your meal in your bedchambers tonight?”

Isabella licked her lips.

“Th… that wounds wonderful!”

-o-o-o-

“I… Irikit?!” Isabella von Carstein moaned miserably, perched on her gigantic gothic four-poster bed and cradling her rumbling stomach. It had been hours since her last meal down in the banquet hall, and she was ravenous yet again. Her horrid little Skaven servant had promised her supper served in her bedchambers, and yet there Isabella was, alone and starving.

It was almost dawn, ordinarily she’d be reclining with a good book or trying to enjoy a little passionless sex with Vlad, but at that moment all she wanted was more supplements pumped down her throat.

“Irikit!” she howled, almost shaking with need now, but at last the little Skaven sauntered through the doors and into her most private chambers.

Even a week ago having a disgusting rat in her bedroom would have sent Isabella into a blind fury. She would have done such terrible things to the Skaven that it would have made even a Slaughterbrute’s stomach turn. Such horrors and travesties that they would be whispered about in fear for decades in the dark corners of the world. A cautionary tale to frighten children into obedience.

Instead she beamed with relief and leapt to her feet, dashing close to Irikit. “Where were you? I’ve been calling for minutes!”

“My work is important, dear countess.” The Skaven sighed with a smirk, happily accepting the chalice that Isabella thrust into her hands. “Though nowhere near as pleasant as your company.”

“S… stop flirting and feed me!” Isabella hissed impatiently, almost shaking as she watched Irikit pour the thick green soup she was hopelessly addicted to into her blood.

The instant the bottle was empty she snatched her goblet back and brought it to her lips, chugging it down with a needful whimper, finally relaxing as her eyes glowed a lustful green. She drank, and drank, and drank, and all the while Irikit chuckled and began to undress her. The only moment of complaint Isabella managed to rouse was as her Skaven molester pulled her arms out of her sleeves, interrupting her feast.

By the time Isabella at last dragged her tongue around the rim of the chalice and let out a sloppy moan of bliss, she was naked and soaking.

Her body was even more delicious out of her outfit, her gigantic tits and massive ass perfectly pale and round like the fat white moon glowing outside. Irikit couldn’t help but nuzzle close, her cock thrust between Isabella’s thighs, her paws sinking into her copious assmeat, her teeth finding a fat, thick nipple and chewing hungrily.

“Hah… so gooood.” Isabella moaned, dribbling blood and cum down her chin with a smile. “May… I have more, please?”

“Mmmm, you asked so politely, how can I refuse?” Irikit grinned, pulling away from her undead teat, a thick string of spit bridging her tongue to Isabella’s aching nipple. “Kneel.”

Isabella moaned and obeyed, panting up at Irikit with her hands squished between her thighs. “You… cannot tell anyone…” she whispered, “Just because I need your… your seed doesn’t mean you’re not just a f… filthy Skaven.”

Irikit’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back, cock in hand. “And now you’ve ruined it.”

“Wh… what?” Isabella squeaked, crawling after her, only to be stopped in her tracks as Irikit raised a single finger.

“Why would I help you if you’re rude?” Irikit asked with a casual shrug. “If I’m just a filthy Skaven you mustn’t want my cum.”

“Th… that’s not what I meant.” Isabella whined, “You have to understand! My reputation… my marriage, I’d be ruined if anyone knew how you helped me! Even if Vlad let me live I’d… I’d be homeless, powerless, I’d have nothing.”

“If you were nice, you’d have a place at my feet.” Irikit cooed. “I could use a good servant, especially one who sucks cock so well.”

Isabella whined, it was humiliating how exciting that thought was. Even in squalor and poverty, she would kneel and suck and serve and be happy. What was happening to her? all her life she’d craved power, status, the finest things in life or unlife, and yet she was willing to let it all go just for another drop of thick, delicious, Skaven sperm.

“I’m sorry… I only meant th… that we must be discrete.” She whispered, “Forgive me.”

Irikit smirked.

“Lie on the bed.”

Isabella did as she was told, clambering onto the luxurious expanse of pillows and soft sheets, trembling with lust and her insatiable craving for yet more seed. Her chest heaved as Irikit stripped down, tossing her filthy rags and leathers carelessly onto the floor to join Isabella’s discarded regalia, before coming close.

“Roll onto your back.”

Irikit’s voice was cruel and teasing, but Isabella couldn’t disobey. She rolled and bit her lip, feeling how her breasts wobbled on her chest and her ass squished beneath her. Above her, Irikit chuckled and brought her cock smacking down onto her face, letting it’s hot, musky weight rest over Isabella’s features.

“Suck.”

Isabella von Carstein whimpered, and opened her mouth wide, gagging as Irikit grasped her by the cheeks and thrust into her soft, wet lips. At first her pace was leisurely, the Skaven simply enjoying the cool moist embrace of Isabella’s greedy maw, but soon gentle thrusting wasn’t enough for her, and the real fun began.

“Gghhl” Isabella burbled, eyes widening as Irikit began to jerk her hips faster and faster, the entire length of her cock ramming inside her throat like it was just a prostitute’s well-used cunt, and not the most desirable neck in all vampiredom.

She clutched her bedsheets and drank in breath after breath of Skaven musk, her womanhood throbbing and sopping with arousal as she did the only thing she could think to do: lie back and enjoy.

Irikit wanted to fuck her face like a cheap whore, so that’s what she would do. After all, if Isabella complained again she might leave, and the vampiric matriarch couldn’t bear to think about going without her delicious semen for even another hour.

“Gwuck gwuck gwuck gwuck!”

The sounds bubbling out of Isabella’s increasingly sloppy mouth were only getting lewder, but she didn’t care, not as Irikit’s balls slapped her in the nose and the Skaven grabbed her tits. The taste was all she needed. The flavour of perfection, delight, fulfilment.

Isabella didn’t care that Irikit was ruining her makeup, or that she was using her nipples like reigns to ram herself harder into her face. All she could think about was how horny she was, and how good Irikit tasted, and how she wanted to sit and slobber up and down her rat queen’s cock for the rest of eternity until the stars burned out and the planet froze into a perpetual midnight paradise.

Irikit, whilst Isabella was gurgling and making a mess of herself, was biting her lip and playing with her new pet’s udders. They were ridiculous, so big and soft and squishy it was almost hard to believe they were real, and yet as her finger kneaded vampire titmeat like bread dough and toyed around with erect undead nipples, it was impossible to deny they were very real, and utterly amazing.

She moaned happily and held her hips flush against Isabella’s quivering throat for a moment, pulling on the vampire’s nipples until she was squealing and trembling beneath her. She let Isabella’s teats go and watched her bosom bounce back into place like two great milky jellies.

The only problem was that she couldn’t admire Isabella’s bubblebutt from this angle, the gigantic peach of fertile fuckmeat currently mashing down into the mattress as Isabella quivered and gurgled on her back.

She sighed and gave each wobbling tit a sharp smack to keep them rippling and swaying, debating whether or not to flip the bitch over. Her throat felt incredible, and this angle let her fuck it so much easier than before, every inch just sliding down her tight little neck like it was made for it. Was it worth ruining such a brilliant throat-fuck just to stare at that ass?

Yes. Yes it was.

Irikit grabbed Isabella by her teats and hauled them up with all her strength, using her grip as leverage to ram her hips forward harder and faster until it was almost painful. Beneath her, Isabella’s grunts and gurgles became wetter and more frantic as she was brutally bullied, her proud, stately face transformed into a blushing, spit-shined fuckhole.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Irikit groaned happily, using one last hard ram of her hips to bury herself inside Isabella’s gullet and blow her load. The pumping of her sperm down a vampire’s throat was sublime, as was the delighted, broken mew that warbled up from Isabella’s stuffed mouth.

After a few moments spent savouring the moment, Irikit forced herself to withdraw, and smiled down at the wreck she’d made.

Isabella was drooling, eyes rolled back and glazed over with green light. Her mouth hung wide open, spit and sperm oozing up her face as her head dangled. A bead of thick white goo gathered in one nostril, whilst a rivulet next to it glued one eye shut. Simply put, she was a mess.

Irikit chuckled to herself and climbed up onto the bed, giving Isabella’s heaving bosom an affectionate kick to send her tits wobbling, before she knelt down beside the dazed vampire.

“You’ve certainly had your fill today, Izzy, seems only right I get a meal of my own.” She crooned, and with a heavy grunt of effort, rolled Isabella’s voluptuous form back onto her front. “Gods have mercy, this ass is fatter than every other bitches’ in the castle combined.”

A faint indignant whimper echoed from Isabella’s head as Irikit dragged her tongue along a huge, wobbling cheek. “Not… fat…”

“Izzy my dear, your backside is fucking obese! No wonder you ride in a carriage, if you sat this monster on a horse you’d shatter its spine.” Irikit growled, kissing and licking over the vast expanse of porcelain posterior pressing back against her. Each long stroke of her tongue left a trail of her hungry spit behind, and soon Isabella’s ass was as wet as her ravenous pussy. There wasn’t an inch of cheek Irikit’s mouth didn’t explore, from the crease of where ass met thick soft thigh, to the divot of the vampire’s tailbone, over each glorious glutinous swell over and over again, and deep between them where no living soul but her had ever seen, let alone tasted.

Isabella’s ass looked unimaginably wonderful in that moment, her heavy cheeks wobbling with every ragged breath its owner sucked in, her cunt oozing and pulsing needily between their huge, fleshy embrace. Under a thick lair of Skaven spit, it almost seemed to glow and glisten in the low candlelight, a perfect shining peach of meat that had been made for one thing, and one thing only: fucking. Irikit palmed each glute gently, chewing her lip as her fingers disappearing into the welcoming assmeat, before spreading them wide and spitting onto Isabella’s rosy virgin pucker.

A faint squeak of surprise drifted from where Isabella’s head was still dangling, lost to the world and overcome with addicted euphoria, but she made no show of resistance. The little Skaven grinned, licked her lips, gave Isabella’s gigantic ass a good wobble, and submerged.

It was like coming home.

Irikit had almost forgotten how nice it felt to be completely swallowed up by a braindead bitch’s ass. To have her fat, doughy cheeks just squeeze over her head like a big soft fleshy pillow. How many hours had she spent with her face buried in Morathi’s massive monster of a backside? Not enough, and immediately she regretted that.

She grabbed to full handfuls of assmeat, felt her cock throb hungrily, and began to devour Isabella’s asshole like a four-course feast.

“Auugghhhhhh!” Isabella’s hoarse moan of surprise, embarrassment, and orgasmic bliss was easy to hear even with Irikit’s ears muffled by her cheeks. Half the castle must have heard her, but that didn’t stop her from howling and groaning and panting like a bitch as Irikit’s long hot tongue coiled and wriggled inside her. Isabella didn’t care, and Irikit certainly didn’t either, not as long as Isabella’s virgin ass squeezed around her tongue.

Irikit’s fingernails dug into Isabella’s ass as hungrily as her tongue, leaving long pink scratches in her milky flesh, marking her as property, and her butt as a Skaven chewtoy. The vampire could only sob with delight and shake herself back against her rat queen’s invading tongue. At first just a wiggle in her hips, soon Isabella’s mighty cheeks were bouncing and clapping loudly as the countess twerked against Irikit’s face, lost in a lustful trance.

After what felt like an eternity, Irikit had her fill, and pulled free of Isabella’s suffocating dumptruck with a pleased gasp. She squeezed her cock, ready to burst just from rimming that spectacular asshole, and splattered Isabella with almost enough spunk to cover even her colossal backside, before falling back in a sweaty, contented heap.

-o-o-o-

“I... it’s feeding time.” Isabella cooed as she stepped up to her own throne and sank respectfully to her knees.

Perched on her literal seat of power, Irikit smirked and toyed with her whiskers. “Is it really?”

“I… I always eat at this hour.” Isabella whined, “You’ve fed me before, you should know!”

“You’re being awfully rude for someone who wants a favour, Izzy.”

Irikit’s tone was soft but vicious, threatening and mocking all at once, but Isabella was too starved to care. It had been hours since she’d last feasted on Skaven spunk and her hands were already trembling for her next fix. In her mind Irikit existed to feed her, that telltale vampiric arrogance still intact whilst so much of her sanity had atrophied, and all she wanted was what she felt she deserved.

“It’s not a favour!” she protested. “Y… you’re here because I… I wanted you here. This is m… my castle, you should do what I ask.”

“If you ask nicely.” Irikit grinned, “Otherwise I’ll get annoyed, and then I might do something you’d regret like tell your subjects just what a wanton harlot their countess is, or send a letter to your husband telling him just how much you prefer my cock to his, or I might just leave.”

The final threat hit the hardest, and Isabella immediately folded, hanging her head and prostrating herself before the little Skaven stroking herself on her throne.

“N… no! Please Irikit, please don’t go… forgive me… I’ll give you whatever you desire.” Isabella pleaded. “Your own chambers, servants, gold, jewels, whatever you want… just stay and feed me.”

“Alright, Countess, I’ll tell you what I desire.” Irikit cooed, standing up and sliding her cock over Isabella’s panting face. “Your obedience, your respect, and access to your whore body whenever I desire. You will do what I say, because I am your mistress, and because you’re just desperate to be fucked like the slut you are.”

“But…”

“Call me mistress, or you’ll never taste my cock again.”

Isabella’s lip quivered, but the answer was obvious. She bowed her head and nuzzled against Irikit’s cock, hands clutching her furry thighs, her eyes wide and submissive. “Please… mistress… feed me more.”

“Good whore.” Irikit smirked, sinking down into Isabella’s throne and gesturing to her erection with a lazy wave. “Now use your tits and earn your meal.”

“Yes mistress Irikit.” Isabella whimpered, shuffling closer on her knees and trembling as she took hold of both of her heaving breasts and lifted them up to rest on the Skaven’s thighs.

A thrill ran through her as Irikit’s hot pink pole was squeezed between her bosom, its heat throbbing and flowing into her cool pale skin. She had never used her breasts to pleasure anyone before, but for weeks now they had been Irikit’s toys, to be smacked and squeezed and chewed on, and now to jerk her off.

Isabella moaned and chewed her lip, hauling her bust up and down Irikit’s cock faster and faster, watching as it was completely swallowed up by her squishing milkers. Dark gods it turned her on so much to behave like such a slut. Letting Irikit do whatever she liked to her body, treat her like some common whore, fucking and biting and squeezing everything she had to offer… it was intoxicating. If only Vlad had paid her more attention, she might not have needed to rely so desperately on this wonderful little Skaven and her magic cock and delicious salty sperm.

Her husband had still not returned from the front lines in his pathetic war, but Isabella didn’t care anymore, Irikit was all the lover she needed.

“May I use my mouth too, mistress?” she asked meekly, hefting her tits up and down even faster until thick meaty claps of vampire titmeat on Skaven thighs filled the banquet hall.

“Gods you’re a greedy sow.” Irikit laughed, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her face down.

Isabella mewed happily and parted her lips, sucking and slobbering on Irikit’s cock as it thrust up out of her cavernous cleavage. The instant the flavour of Skaven meat met her tongue all her reservations and doubts melted away into a happy mindless green fog. If Irikit wanted to be called mistress, she was her mistress. If Irikit called her a sow she’d roll in the mud. So long as she had a thick salty load pumped down her insatiable gullet she would be happy.

And she was, glowing with delight as Irikit’s sperm exploded into her cheeks and began to slither down her throat. Her lashes fluttered and her chest heaved as she sucked and sucked and sucked until every last trace of her obsession had been devoured. For any other creature a vampire greedily slurping on their cock would have been frightening, to have such a dangerous mouth squeezing on such a delicate appendage, but Irikit was simply happy and horny. Isabella’s face wasn’t something to fear, it was something to fuck.

“Stand up.” She barked, pushing the countess back and clambering up onto her feet on the throne. “Lift your leg!”

Isabella whimpered and obeyed, struggling to heft her leg upwards into a standing split. She let out a sigh of relief as Irikit grasped her thick thigh and hugged her close, allowing her raised leg to rest comfortably over the Skaven’s shoulder, her foot on the back of her throne.

In an instant Irikit was inside her, her pristine noble pussy rammed full of Skaven dick and defiled forever just as she’d been unknowingly craving ever since Irikit’s drugs first drifted into her mind. Isabella’s howl of delight echoed off the walls, her tongue lolling as she clutched the back of Irikit’s head and pressed her tight to a heaving udder. Skaven cock pounding her cunt, Skaven teeth gnawing on her nipple, the flavour of Skaven spunk still conquering her tongue… it was all bliss for the depraved mindless ruin of Countess Isabella von Carstein.

“Hah… f… fuck me mistress!” she begged, mauling her unattended tit hungrily, squeezing and stretching and milking her massive breast as her entire body quaked under Irikit’s thrusts. “Fuck your whore! Your slut! Your undead breeding sow!”

Irikit growled hungrily and clenched her arms around Isabella’s wobbling thigh, her hips crashing into her faster and harder by the second. Soon the clapping of vampiric cheeks echoed off the wall as loudly as Isabella’s depraved grunts and moans of bliss, letting everyone in the castle know without a doubt that the mistress of Sylvania was being bred.

“Moooooore!” Isabella howled, lost in her own pleasure. “Fuck meeeeeee Mistress! C… conquer my p… pathetic pusssyyy!”

One of Irikit’s paws moved from the vampiress’ thigh to her gigantic ass, spanking and slapping the immense doughy shelf of meat quivering and shaking shamelessly. The disrespect was intoxicating, the pain sublime, her ass was made for beating and breeding. Just like everything else of hers, it belonged to her rat queen.

“Cum inside!” she pleaded desperately, “Fill my womb with your delicious seed! Own me inside and out whilst you chew on my whore udders! My t… tits are your property! My ass is… your toy! Fuck my cunt and my face and my… my ass! Drak’s fangs I want you to fuck my asshole! Break me open and dump your seed into my stomach until I’m full! Only your cum satisfies me, it’s all I can drink anymore, I’m just so hungry all the time I want you to cum inside me forever until the hunger goes away!”

Irikit didn’t need encouraging, slithering her tongue around Isabella’s teat before biting down again. The vampire milf’s cunt was milking her cock as greedily as her mouth, it had barely been more than a few minutes and she was already coming close to blowing her load yet again. Only Morathi’s pretty pink pussy had ever devoured her cock so hungrily, what was it about evil bitches that made them so unbelievably curvy and whorish?

With a heavy groan she smacked Isabella’s ass hard enough to send her entire cheek wobbling and jiggling like a stone thrown into a lake, great ripples of fertile fat rolling across her body as she moaned and drooled and came her brains out. The vampire could barely stay upright as she felt Irikit’s cock swell inside her long-neglected cunt, a moment of perfect clarity coming over her, as the horrid little Skaven who had transformed her from cruel undead queen bitch into a moaning twerking cum-addicted harlot blew her load directly into her womb.

Hatred and fury and disgust washed through her for an instant, before all-consuming bliss erased it, and everything else. Her undead womb was packed with Skaven spunk, and all Isabella could feel was regret that her once-fertile babymaker couldn’t give Irikit the litters of pups she deserved. She wanted to be her rat queen’s breeder, to be fat and stupid and useful only for fucking, but nutting inside her vampiric womb was as useless as blowing a load into her asshole.

Speaking of which.

Isabella let out a squeak of surprise as Irikit shoved her backwards, overbalancing and toppling to the floor in a heap. Barely a second later Irikit had mounted her gigantic ass, paws yanking her thighs apart and lifting her up so she was balancing atop her heaving udders.

She felt the sticky head of Irikit’s pole press against her virgin asshole, unexplored by anything other than the Skaven’s tongue, and gurgled with need. “Yes… fuck my ass mistress… pound me stupid!”

Plap!

The sound of Irikit ramming her hips against Isabella’s backside was like a clap of thunder, matched only by the shrill squeal of joy that burst from the vampire’s lips as her hole was gaped. It was sublime, pain and pleasure, humiliation and delight, all mixing together into an intoxicating cocktail of lust that shattered what little remained of Isabella’s sanity. Mind-melting pheromones flooded her brain, addictive sperm oozed from her lips, and Isabella grinned as she clapped her huge bubblebutt back against the Skaven holding her legs aloft.

Irikit felt even bigger inside her ass than she had down her throat or in her cunt, a throbbing, pounding pillar of perfect Skaven cock stretching her last undefiled orifice out into yet another fuckhole.

Isabella came with a shriek of pleasure, her pussy spasming and squirting as Irikit continued ramming into her. It was too much, too good! She could feel her undead strength melting away, her craving for blood being totally replaced by an all new greedy hunger. She wanted to be fucked forever, to never again spend a second without Irikit’s cock in her ass.

“Let me bite youuuuu!” she sobbed, “Mistress… let me turn you! I’ll make you immortal! Powerful! You can rule this whole nation and fuck me every second of every day for the rest of time! I’ll be your whore, your concubine! Your eternal cumdump forever and ever and ever and… Whuf!”

Isabella grunted as Irikit’s strength gave out and she dropped her to the floor, still embedded inside her hole. The Skaven didn’t slow for a second, clinging to Isabella’s ass and pounding her ass harder and harder as the vampire matriarch went limp and lay on her face, happily taking her mistress’ abuse.

“Shut… the fuck… up!”

Nails scratched her cheeks, spanked her, squeezed her. Irikit licked up and down her spine, groped her squishing breasts, spat on her and massaged the moisture into her milky skin. Her ass bounced and shook and jiggled with every thrust, wobbling as it was stuffed full over and over again until Isabella was sure it would never fully close again.

Irikit came, and came again, and again. Soon Isabella’s orgasmic high had been amplified to madness by the vast quantities of addictive Skaven spunk in her guts. She howled and gurgled and drooled down her chin, her pleading for more melting into brainless babbling as she was assfucked into insanity.

And finally, when at last Irikit’s stamina ran out and the little Skaven flopped onto Isabella’s back, cock still embedded inside her, Isabella could only think of one thing.

“Mistress.” She moaned, tilting her head to one side and staring back at her queen with a loving green glow in her eyes. “I’m still hungry…”

“May I please have more?”

Distraction.

Result of the June Poll.

Captain Peggy Carter saved the multiverse, but she could never go home. Instead being placed in a new dimension, Captain Carter began a new life working with SHIELD and particularly Natasha Romanov. Adjusting to life in 2014 is tough, not least navigating the new possibilities and new feelings Peggy begins to feel towards her new partner.

-o-o-o-

“Anyone know the way to the Smithsonian? I’m here to pick up a fossil.”

Captain Peggy Carter couldn’t contain her smile, even as she rolled her eyes and slowed her pace to match the silver Lamborghini rolling beside her. In the driver’s seat a smirking redhead was lounging, peering over her mirrored sunglasses at the super soldier woman out of time.

Natasha Romanov.

Peggy had known she was going to be trouble the moment they met.

Fresh off a seventy year stint in an alternate dimension battling a Nazi-summoned super-sized squid, she’d been met by a world very different to the one she’d left. For the most part the changes were positive, a more tolerant world, advanced technologies, considerably better food… but she’d been put in the bizarre position of going from a woman ahead of her time in the 1940s to one considerably behind them in 2014.

Nat was a great example of just how behind the times she now was.

In Peggy’s day the Russians had been allies, women had been downtrodden, and wearing pants that tight would have been a scandal. Now here was a gorgeous redhead who had been an enemy of the state, was incredibly confident, and seemed to delight in any opportunity to show off her backside.

“Hilarious.” Peggy sighed, wiping a little sweat from her brow and flexing her massive arms. It had been a slow morning, a thirteen mile run in a little over half an hour, it seemed she was still not back at her peak yet. “Fury called?”

Nat flashed a crooked grin. “Do I need an excuse to visit a friend?”

“No.” Peggy admitted begrudgingly. Nat liked to pop in whenever she pleased, offering a teasing and a bottle of wine or some expensive, exotic food whenever she showed up on Peggy’s doorstep. It was nice, having a friend in a century so strange and lonely, but Peggy worried that friendship wasn’t what Natasha was really searching for.

Peggy had always hated the term ‘Queer’ it had always been used nastily and viciously in her time, but these days it seemed homosexuals and all the variations thereupon had reclaimed it as a badge of honour. She’d been called it enough times over her years, assertive and independent even before her body had been enhanced into a muscular Amazonian peak, and it still carried a sting.

Not so for Nat, a completely confident and open ‘queer’ woman.

What exactly that meant Peggy wasn’t entirely sure, Nat wasn’t a lesbian, at least judging by the many, many men she flirted with at any opportunity. Nevertheless, Peggy hadn’t worked up the courage to ask the prying questions as to how she identified or what new subdivision she felt fitted her best.

It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable, far from it, it was just that Natasha was so… much.

Peggy, despite being a gorgeous, intelligent, powerful woman, was also a virgin. Sex before marriage back in her day was a thing GIs did the second they hit foreign soil, not something a respectable woman considered. She’d been on dates, she’d kissed a few men, danced a few times, but she’d never found anyone other than Steve she would ever have considered marrying, and he had died so many years ago, thinking she was gone forever.

Natasha Romanov was a casually, confidently, completely sexual creature, and Peggy knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up even if she allowed her curiosity to win her over.

“Word is that there’s Chitauri weapons being auctioned off at a gala, we’re going in undercover to confirm.” Natasha said cheerfully as Peggy squeezed into the seat beside her.

The super-soldier shot her a questioning glance. “I’m not exactly experienced with spy work, and I’m certainly not inconspicuous.”

“You don’t have to be.” Nat grinned. “With you at the party looking glamourous and gorgeous, no-one will be paying attention to little old me.”

Peggy flushed. “I’m not sure that will work, you’re…” she trailed off, not sure how to say that Natasha was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen without encouraging the redhead’s flirtations. “I’m not… comfortable, being in the spotlight like that.”

“You carry a big round shield with a union jack on it, Peg.” Nat smiled, peering at her over her sunglasses. “You’ll do great.”

-o-o-o-

Peggy was not doing great.

The gala she could handle. The odd looks were nothing new. She hadn’t even broken a sweat over the possibility of terrorists armed with alien weaponry potentially stalking the grounds of the old mansion.

Dancing with Natasha? That was a very different story.

She’d arrived to the gala by herself, dressed in long rich red gown that covered her from neck to ankle, leaving her arms bare. Her hair had been transformed into a luxurious flowing mane of rich chocolate, conveniently hiding the tiny earpiece disguised as an earring nestled on her left side. As Nat had said, she was a woman who had carried a massive union jack painted shield through war-torn Europe, she was not someone unused to the spotlight, but honestly she would have taken combat any day over her current situation.

Natasha Romanov was in her arms, looking like the most gorgeous creature to ever be conceived. Her smooth, lithe body was snug in a tight golden dress, its plunging neckline showing off her cleavage whilst its split travelled all the way up her hip far enough to make Peggy panic and obsess over the possibility she wasn’t wearing panties. Her scarlet hair poured down to her shoulders, framing her face, her smoky eyes, her perfect nose, her plush red lips…

Not only had Peggy never led in a dance before, she’d never had such a beautiful woman pressing tight against her, hands squeezing her muscles, perfume filling her nose. She was burning up, self-conscious in a way that was totally alien to her.

Natasha noticed.

“You’re almost as red as your dress, Peg.” She purred softly, smiling up at her as they waltzed.

“I… don’t know what you mean.” Peggy coughed nervously.

“Mm hm, sure.”

Peggy’s face grew even hotter.

“I’ve just not done this before.” She murmured, shooting an anxious glance over the other guests. Just as she’d feared, most of those not dancing were watching her and Nat, and even those who were took every opportunity to sneak a peek.

“Never danced?”

“Not with another woman, no.”

“Never kissed one either, huh?”

Peggy felt like her heart stopped.

“What!?” she squeaked, a little too loudly. The interested looks of the other guests suddenly became all the more intent, sensing excitement and hoping for scandal.

“The team is extracting the weapons now, all eyes on us.” Natasha crooned, draping her arms around Peggy’s neck and squishing herself snug against her belly. “Make it look good.”

“I… what… but… mh!” Peggy managed, before Natasha rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to her own.

She tasted divine, felt even better, and in an instant what was at first a fairly tame, chaste kiss transformed into something hungry and passionate. Natasha’s pillow-soft lips locked against her, her silky smooth tongue coiled around hers. She tasted of smoke and honey, spiced and sweet. Peggy felt a weak, flustered moan bubble up from her throat as her hands squeezed tight around Nat’s waist, clutching her possessively.

They broke apart, Peggy panting for breath, forehead pressing to Natasha’s. She realised how fiercely she was grabbing the redhead and quickly let go, trying to take a step back only for Nat to chuckle and follow.

“Damn Peg, I can tell you haven’t had a kiss since the forties.”

“Nat… I…”

“Come here.”

And Nat was on her again, this time with no restraints. Her supple hands grasped Peggy by the cheeks as she poured her tongue into her mouth, lips caressing and smacking wetly and shamelessly against her. A toned, athletic thigh rose and clasped around Peggy’s waist, forcing her in deeper as the redheaded Russian began climbing her like a tree.

Before she knew what was happening Peggy’s hands were roaming, one supporting Natasha’s back as she bent low into the kiss, eager for more. Another pawed at the thigh rubbing against her, feeling soft, strong skin against its palm, before sliding further and grasping Natasha’s plump, tight ass.

Natasha mewed as Peggy pawed her, and took the super-soldier’s lip between her teeth, tugging on it playfully before diving back against her.

Peggy’s moans joined Nat’s as, in the middle of the crowded dancefloor and with all eyes on them, they shared the longest, most passionate, most ravenous make-out session of their lives.

Peggy couldn’t control herself, and Nat didn’t want to, letting the massive amazon ravish her and let out all of that pent up need. The redhead gasped as Peggy forgot her own strength, gripping her backside so hard the spy could feel the meat of her cheeks spilling around her partner’s powerful fingers. Her heart raced with excitement, both from the base arousal and the exhibitionist thrill, as she moved her hands from Peggy’s burning cheeks to explore her Olympian physique.

Nat loved a strong woman, SHIELD was full of them, and it was a big part of why she stayed around, but Peggy was something else. How could any normal buff babe compare to Captain Carter, the ultimate super-soldier? She was a goddess, even compared to the actual gods that apparently existed, and god damn was she gorgeous. That face, that hair, those legs… and the chest!

Natasha giggled into the kiss, giddy with delight as she sank her fingers into Peggy’s bust and felt the plump swell of flesh embrace her. It might have been a bit much, poor Peg had been bordering on a panic attack the second she had seen Nat step out of the limo, and she might have just had a stroke when she was pulled out onto the dancefloor for a tango. To her credit she was really going for it now Nat had actually made her move, squeezing and purring and letting herself have fun. Poor thing must have been pent up for nearly a century by now, good thing Natasha was on hand to help.

Peggy gasped as Natasha’s fingers slid over her breast, feeling her heart pounding against the soft, delicate palm. She had never been touched like this, and even though she could still feel the eyes of the room on her, hear the murmurs and laughter of both derision and jealousy, she couldn’t have cared less at that moment.

She wanted to kiss Natasha forever, kiss her lips, her cheeks and every inch of her face. She wanted to work her lips up and down her neck and over her shoulders and her arms to her fingers. She wanted to pepper her collarbone with so many lipstick marks they were beyond counting. She wanted to lock her lips onto her belly and explore her navel with her tongue, then roam lower. She wanted to taste those strong thighs, feel them caress her cheeks, and bury her face snug into Natasha’s hot, wet, fragrant cunt.

She wanted to fuck. Hard and loud and messily and for as long as she possibly could. She wanted Natasha to sit on her face. Wanted to pin her to the bed with her mouth. Wanted to feel her warmth and wetness quivering around her.

She wanted to…

“Alpha six to Widow, package secure, mission accomplished.”

Nat’s lips left Peggy’s and the brunette ached for their return immediately. She panted hard and swallowed, burning with passion and then with horrible embarrassment as Nat casually tapped her comm and stepped back.

“Nicely done boys, return to base, Captain Carter and I will continue surveillance.”

Peggy glanced around, racing heart only growing faster as she saw all the eyes on her. Panic gripped her, but then Natasha’s hand took hers.

“Hell of a distraction, Captain.” The redhead smiled, giving her a squeeze. “Hotel?”

“Wh… what?”

“The job’s done… you want to go back to your apartment alone, or…?”

Peggy smiled after a moment, realising her meaning, and squeezed her back.

“Hotel.”

My Doctor. Chapter Two.

With the foundation of her mental domination over The Doctor in place, Yaz brings her oblivious Time-Lord 'friend' home, only to continue remaking her into Yaz's ideal toy.

-o-o-o-

When Yaz brought a girl home, she liked for them to be impressed by what they saw. She wanted them to gasp and stare, wanted them to be in awe of where she lived as much as they were in awe of her. She’d gone to a lot of effort perfecting her house over the past few years, perhaps not as much effort as the people who had actually renovated and modernised the large stately country house, but managing workers was even more of a challenge in Yaz’s opinion. Perfection was her goal, both for herself and her life, and she demanded any visitor, be they a lover or not, be impressed by that perfection.

The Doctor was bitterly disappointing her.

Yaz’s house was only slightly smaller than a mansion, a beautiful old Edwardian country house just a half-hour outside of Sheffield. The large pale building was nestled in a small valley, nicely sheltered from prying eyes, with woodland and moors stretching up to the horizon, hiding any hint of human civilisation beyond its grounds.

Yaz had moved in after the previous owner had died mid-renovation, convincing the builders and architects to finish the passion project rather than give up. They’d been happy to oblige once she framed the choice that way, and after that introducing all the changes and modifications she’d desired had been a breeze. Now, whilst looking classy and classic on the outside, it was the perfect modern luxury home inside. Six bedrooms, a private library, a walk-in closet in the master bedroom larger than her family’s entire flat back in Sheffield, an indoor pool, a garage large enough for Yaz’s cars… all in all it was exactly the kind of home Yaz had always wanted.

Everything inside was neat and tidy and perfect too, white marble, gold trim, rich, soft carpets and a fireplace in every bedroom. For a building of its size it was remarkably cosy, never anything but Yaz’s desired temperature inside, with no drafts, no breezes, no imperfections, no exceptions.

Naturally she had staff, but they didn’t live in the house. Yaz did not share her space with anyone, and so her cleaning staff, her gardeners, and her personal chef, all lived in a small cottage at the edge of the property, close enough to be on call, but out of Yaz’s sight when she didn’t want them.

No-one stepped foot in her domain without permission, and so it was just Yaz and The Doctor.

“Well?” Yaz said, her frustration at the blonde’s total lack of appreciation sneaking into her tone as she scowled. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice!” The Doctor grinned, planting her hands on her hips and admiring the large open foyer Yaz had led her into. “Reminds me of an old andromedan temple I visited once. All the marble and gold. Very impressive.”

Yaz wasn’t satisfied by the blonde’s platitudes and huffed with annoyance, stalking across the sleek black and white tiles to the bottom of the staircase. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

“Are you alright?” The Doctor frowned, following her closely as she began to prowl up the stairs, face twisted with worry.

“Fine.” Yaz said with a forced smile. “It’s just been a busy day, helping you tired me out.”

A range of emotions rolled over The Doctor’s face. Surprise that Yaz had lost her good mood so quickly. Shock that she seemed to blame The Doctor for her change in attitude. Defensiveness as the rational side of her recognised that none of it was actually her fault, but then concern as she immediately began to second-guess herself. Yaz’s influence wasn’t dominating her by any stretch of the imagination, even the insidious encouragement to be submissive and feminine that was still spiralling through her brain was largely dormant, but never gone.

Even so, The Doctor couldn’t help but want Yaz’s approval, crave her acceptance. In her mind Yaz was already her closest, most trusted friend on the earth at that moment, and she wanted that friendship to continue desperately.

Yaz’s lip curled as The Doctor pouted and screwed up her face in thought, following her quietly up the steps. “I’ve put you in the suite next to me, Doctor. Everything is already laid out ready for you, but if you do need something let me know.”

“Yaz?” The Doctor said meekly, reaching out to catch the younger girl by the wrist. She smiled hopefully as Yaz spun around to face her, expression unreadable. “Um… thank you. Thank you for letting me stay in your home, and for helping me fit in… it’s so kind of you and I really do appreciate it.”

Yaz smiled back and gently removed The Doctor’s hand, squeezing it and casually taking a few steps forward. In an instant, the blonde had her back to the wall and her hands in Yaz’s grip, her face twisting from worried to flustered just as quickly.

“Don’t mention it, I was glad to help, and it’s nice to have company.”

“I… it’s an awfully big house for just one person.” The Doctor stammered. She frowned suddenly, her blush dying down as her brains kicked back into gear thanks to a new mystery to ponder. “How can you afford to live like this? You’re so young, have you got a job, a rich family?”

“My family lives in Sheffield.” Yaz smiled calmly, taking a mental note of how quickly the blonde had shaken off her influence once she’d been intellectually stimulated. “My father is unemployed, my mother works in hotels, my little sister is still at uni.”

“A job then?” The Doctor asked, smiling as Yaz continued along the corridor.

“No.”

“An inheritance? A lottery win? I had a friend who won the lottery once, with a little help, sort of farewell present. Maybe I should check in on her someday, see how she’s getting along?”

“I have a lot of… friends.” Yaz sighed, deciding to give The Doctor the answers she craved, if only to stop her from prying and thinking to hard into her affairs. The blonde was smart, dangerously so. As far as Yaz was concerned that was the most important thing to train her out of. “I consult, I advise. I have friends who work as designers, models, photographers… they value my opinion and they compensate me for my help on their work.”

“So you work in fashion? That makes sense, with how well you dress and how nice this house is.” The Doctor smiled.

“Work may be to strong a word.” Yaz chuckled. “My friends like to give me gifts and every so often I do them favours, let’s put it that way.”

“So mysterious. You’re more than meets the eye, aren’t you Yasmin Khan?”

“You’re one to talk.” Yaz replied with a sardonic smile, but not appreciating how close The Doctor was coming to realising just how unusual she really was under the surface. She pushed open a door and led the blonde into a large, open bedroom.

A huge window overlooked the lush green trees around the back of the house, with thick, warm curtains waiting on either side. On the right wall was a huge, abstract painting of swirling colours and long, coiling brushstrokes. Against the left was a king-sized bed, flanked on either side by a small table, and then two doors. Through one was a walk in closet, smaller than Yaz’s room-sized gallery of outfits, shoes, and accessories, but just as big as the bathroom that was through the second door.

“Here’s your room.” Yaz said, casually ushering the blonde into the luxurious suite, watching her expression closely. “The closet’s a little bare but we’ll fill that up tomorrow, we can pick up anything else you need then too. If there’s any problems just let me know, I’m right next door.”

For once, The Doctor seemed suitably impressed, and Yaz smiled as the blonde threw herself down on the bed, bouncing on the mattress with a grin on her face. “Wow! This might be the nicest room I’ve stayed in on earth!”

“You know, you can’t keep avoiding explaining what you actually mean by that forever.” Yaz sighed, taking a seat by the table beside the window and watching The Doctor admire her new bedroom. “I’ll get some clear answers out of you, one way or another.”

The Doctor pouted. “You still don’t believe in aliens?”

“I believe, I’d have to be an idiot to deny everything I’ve seen. What I’m not convinced about is you, Doctor.” Yaz shrugged, crossing her legs and leaning back imperiously in her chair as if it were a throne, and not a comfy plush armchair in one of her guest suites. “You say you’re an alien, sure, I can buy that. You say you used to be a man, if you were you’ve had the best reassignment surgeries I’ve ever seen. You say you’ve been to other planets, met other species, and travelled through time in a wooden box? Now that I’m going to need to be convinced of. As far as I know, you’re just some mad woman who happened to be right about one alien she stumbled into.”

“If you think I’m mad, why invite me into your home?” The Doctor asked, smiling and lying down on the bed, legs kicking like a gossiping schoolgirl half her age. “I could be dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself.” Yaz purred, “and I like you.”

“Aw!” The Doctor grinned, delighted. “I like you too Yaz, you’ve been so nice to me and we’ve only just started getting to know one another!”

“Well, I look forward to learning more.”

“Me too!” The Doctor beamed, before rolling over and cooing as she noticed a few things left out on the bedside tables. She’d dismissed them as just knickknacks and art, scattered around the mahogany surface beside the tall golden lamps. Most of them were, a small novella, a brass statuette Yaz had inherited from her grandmother, a little bottle of merlot Yaz like to leave for her ‘guests’ to enjoy to get them in the mood. And then there was a dildo.

“Huh, what’s this?” The Doctor mumbled, picking up the thick blue dick, only to realise what it was a second later and let out a flustered “Eep!”

“Oh!” Yaz gasped, rushing over and snatching up the toy, tossing it into the table’s drawer and slamming it closed. “Sorry! One of my friends must have left that out… I completely missed it when I cleaned up!”

It was a lie, of course. She’d planted that dildo on the table to see The Doctor’s reaction to it, and she hadn’t been disappointed. Yaz could read people very well thanks to a lifetime of manipulating them, and The Doctor was an open book to her.

She was shocked, caught off guard by the realisation that Yaz wasn’t just the kind, pretty girl who had been taking care of her, but that she was a sexual creature too. There was embarrassment, both at the fact she had picked up a sextoy in front of her host, but also that she hadn’t recognised it, that she’d shown off how inexperienced and innocent she was. The Doctor clearly valued being the smartest woman in the room, and she’d ruined that image by waving around a dildo of all things. There was also something else in her flustered expression, something Yaz was delighted to see: The Doctor was just a tiny bit turned on.

She was surprised, and embarrassed, and she was at that very moment wondering what Yaz had done with that toy, what she’d done with her ‘friend.’ She glanced up at Yaz, trying adorably hard not to blush as she imagined Yaz bringing women home and making love to them, and how she was now in the same position, the very same bed, as they had been.

The comparison was inescapable, and now the poor blonde couldn’t help but wonder if Yaz had ulterior motives for being so nice to her, so charming, so generous.

The Doctor shook her head and forced a smile. “It’s ok, y… you’re a young woman. Of course you have friends over from time to time… I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No no, it’s my fault entirely. Let’s just… forget about it, yeah?” Yaz stammered, playing the role of embarrassed host to perfection as she turned away and hid her face. “I’ve… set out a nightgown, it should be around your size. We’ll get you some proper nightwear tomorrow, for now just relax, take a bath, watch some tv. We can talk about plans in the morning.”

“Oh… yeah… ok Yaz.” The Doctor mumbled, “Sleep well!”

Yaz smiled as she closed the door. “Sleep well.”

-o-o-o-

Yaz’s heart pounded with excitement as she silently turned the handle of the Doctor’s room door and slipped inside. Investing in the quietest doors she’d been able to find had been a fantastic idea she’d never appreciated more as she crept across the room to where the blonde lay snoring. A gossamer thin white negligee floated around her slender body as she crossed the room, her dark breasts heaving with adrenaline as she approached her hapless prey.

The Doctor was spreadeagled on the king-sized mattress, naked body only barely covered by the blankets, arms and legs splayed out as she lay on her back, dead to the world. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, a thin string of drool running down her cheek as she slept.

As dorky and embarrassing as she was, she looked peaceful… comfortable… helpless. Yaz wanted to leap onto her and sample every inch of her supple flesh with her tongue, but she was a patient woman.

Instead, she leant down across from the unconscious blonde and admired her closely, her pretty face, her slender neck, the soft, kissable skin of her collarbone and the hint of cleavage under the covers. One day Yaz would own every last inch of that body, it would be hers to taste and touch and mark as her property.

Yaz took hold of the sheets and began to peel them back, eye watching for any hint of movement or consciousness from her prey as she slowly exposed The Doctor’s body to the cool night air.

Her nipples were hard, perky little mountains of soft pink Yaz ached to devour. Her slim stomach rose and fell with her breaths, her tiny tits swaying hypnotically as their owner snored, oblivious to the predator looming over her.

Yaz smiled and leant close, her lips just millimetres from The Doctor’s ear.

“Sleep, Doctor… keep sleeping… sleep well… sleep deeply.”

The Doctor didn’t stir, but a quiet, contented sigh passed her lips as Yaz’s voice drifted into her unconscious mind.

“Sleep the best night of sleep you’ve ever had.” Yaz encouraged, “Sleep so soundly, so comfortably, that in the morning you’ll feel happy and relaxed and so, so grateful to me for giving you this bed… this room… this place in my home.”

The Doctor sighed again, smiling slightly as she nestled down into the mattress and tilted her head towards Yaz.

“Dream about me, Doctor.” Yaz breathed, gingerly brushing some golden strands out of her prey’s face and behind the ear she was whispering into. “Dream about your best friend Yaz… dream about how nice I am to you, how kind I’ve been, how generous… dream about my smile, dream about my voice.”

“Hmmm.”

Yaz bit her lip and recoiled her hand as The Doctor let out a soft, sleepy moan and shifted beside her. For an instant she feared she’d woken the blonde, but as suddenly as she’d stirred, The Doctor settled back down, now rolled onto her side towards Yaz, her hips pushed forwards as she unconsciously thrust herself towards the girl she was being trained to love.

“Dream about me. Dream about how beautiful I am, how classy I am, everything you wish you were.” She continued carefully, forcing her voice to stay low and soft and gentle. “Dream about me helping you, encouraging you, teaching you everything you need to know. Dream about the woman I’ll show you how to be, dream about making me proud.”

“Dream about beautiful I am, Doctor, dream about my lips, my flawless skin, my perfect body.” Yaz growled, a hand dipping between her own legs as The Doctor blushed and whimpered in her sleep. “You’re so jealous of me, Doctor… you’d do anything to be as gorgeous as I am, anything at all, you want it so badly. You know I can teach you, I can make you into the perfect woman, you just have to ask. And you want to ask, you want to so badly, you want to be like me more than you want to find your Tardis, more than you want to see your other friends, because I am all you need now.”

“Y… Yaaaz.” The Doctor moaned, voice softer than a whisper, but wonderfully needy.

“You want to make me proud, you want to make me happy, you want to make me like you as much as you like me.” Yaz grinned, baring her teeth and stifling a groan as her fingers pushed inside herself. “You want to make me want you like you want me. You want me to love you like you love me. You want to be my woman, my good girl. You want to sleep in my bed, and dress in my clothes, and eat my food, and think my thoughts… you want to be my property, my pet. You want me to teach you everything there is to know about being a woman, how to dress, how to act, how to think… how to fuck.”

“Hmm.” The Doctor was really blushing now, her hand resting over her stomach, rolling over her skin towards her sopping pussy, glistening in the low light between her widespread thighs.

“Dream about my hands, Doctor.” Yaz bit down on her finger, keeping herself quiet as her digits curled inside herself. “Dream about how they’ll feel on your body, stroking your skin, tangling in your hair. Dream about my fingers against your lips, squeezing your breasts, spreading your legs. Dream about me kissing you, my taste on your tongue, over and over again, all over your body, working lowerrrr…. And lowerrrrr… and lowerrrrr… until I’m kissing between your legs, kissing your crotch, your inner thighs, and finally your hot… wet… needy… cunt.”

“Yaaaazzie.” The Doctor whined, back arching and hips rolling up against her own palm.

“Dream about my tongue inside you, tasting every inch you have to offer, filling you, stretching you, driving you wild. Dream about my lips locked onto your pussy, sucking on you, drinking from you. Dream about my tongue coiling around your cute little clit, dream about losing control, dream about the pleasure I give you, that only I can give you.”

“Dream about cumming, cumming like a fountain, cumming until you lose your mind and the world just melts away like the heat between your legs. Dream about my arms cradling you as you lose yourself in pleasure. Dream about my voice in your ear, telling you what a great job you did, how beautiful you look, how good you taste, telling you what a good girl you are for me.”

“Good… girl…”

Yaz groaned and pushed herself away, standing up and tearing her hand away from her eager petals before she could lose control of herself. God she wanted to mount that pretty blonde’s face right then and there, wake her up with a face full of cunt and smother her pretty blushing cheeks in pussy until she submitted and accepted it as her proper place in the world.

She took a calming breath and smiled to herself. She’d never felt like this before! All her life when she wanted to fuck she’d gone into town, found the most beautiful woman she could, and led them back to her bed as easily as she brought home groceries or a new outfit. It was effortless and fun and satisfying, but this was something new. Wanting something and not being able to reach out and take it was driving her wild!

“Doctor.” She said quietly and calmly, at least, as quietly and calmly as she could manage with her raging libido urging her to pounce on the blonde then and there. “Doctor you’re such a good girl for me, so sleep well, and dream about being my woman all night long… dream about the life you want to have with me, about submitting to me completely body, mind, and soul. When you wake up, you’ll be so happy and so horny you’ll need to play with yourself instantly. You won’t be able to resist it, you’ll be desperate, obsessed, and you’ll fuck yourself hard remembering how good I made you feel in your dreams.”

The Doctor whimpered, face red and thighs squeezing down around the hand now cradling her cunt. Yaz purred at the expression of utter need on The Doctor’s sleeping face, and bent low, carefully bringing her slick fingers to the blonde’s open mouth.

“Remember the dildo, Doctor… you’ll want to use it, to know how it feels inside you… and think about how lucky all the women I’ve fucked have been to spend time with me.” Yaz whispered, gently painting her nectar over The Doctor’s lips before kissing her cheek and backing away.

“Sweet dreams.”

-o-o-o-

“Oh gooooooooooosh!”

Yaz smirked to herself and took a sip from her coffee, laying back in her ridiculously huge bed with her mug in one hand, and a wand in the other. She let out a soft groan as the buzzing head of her toy nuzzled against her slick mocha petals, her eyes locked attentively on the tablet propped up beside her.

Yaz was a perverted, narcissistic control freak.

Of course she had cameras hidden in every room.

Sometimes she used them to make sure her staff were behaving. Sometimes she used them to replay her conquests when she needed entertainment to masturbate to. Sometimes, like that morning, she used them to watch her playthings in secret.

The Doctor had woken up before her and gotten to work immediately, waking Yaz with her shrill squeaks and squeals of manic, out-of-control lust.

Just as she’d been unconsciously commanded, the poor blonde had been ravaged by the most intense, submissive, erotic dreams all night long, and had woken up in a heat unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

Her hands had been wandering her body before she was even fully conscious, groping herself, exploring her tight little boobs, her smooth stomach, the hot, throbbing region between her legs, and finally her fingers had brushed the soaking slit of her womanhood for the very first time.

Her squeak of surprise at how intensely amazing her own touch felt had been enough to wake Yaz, who had immediately snatched up her tablet to play the footage as she rushed around brewing coffee and raiding her sex-toy stash.

Mere moments after first nervously probing her pussy with a finger, The Doctor had been moaning and whining as she frantically pumped into herself. The heat coming from her brand new cunt was unbelievable, and the wetness was incredible! Her entire hand was slick with warm, almost honey-scented goo, lubing her up and filling the air with her own strange, intoxicating perfume.

The blonde had almost immediately begun experimenting, incapable of not thinking even as her brain was overcome with need and her every thought turned to her own pleasure. She pumped her finger in straight, she slid it in curled. She moved it up and down, then side to side, then in circles, then a combination of everything. She sank it in down to the knuckle and wiggled it inside herself, scratching those desperately hungry spots she just couldn’t seem to satisfy. She traced up and down each puffy, slathering lip, spread herself wide and stared at the amazing pinkness inside her new body.

She played with her clit. God did she play with her clit. The second she nudged that little pearl throbbing atop her needy hole she just couldn’t stop herself from touching it. She pinched it, she squeezed it, she rubbed it raw. As one hand returned to finger-fucking herself, her second joined the sticky fray, doing everything she could think to do to her own clitoris and driving herself wild whilst she did it.

Soon enough one finger was joined by another, working in tandem to stretch her folds and reach the parts one digit wasn’t enough for. Then it was three, forcing her virgin hole as wide as it would go before it began to ache, and pounding herself silly as she spread her arousal across the bed without a care in the world.

Her initial squeaks and gasps of surprised delight quickly transformed into lustful moans and breathless whispers as The Doctor tried to rationalise what she was doing to herself.

“Oh gosh… oh gosh… oh gosh this feels good. This feels amazing! This feels spectacular! Oh gosh why didn’t I do this sooner? Why am I doing it now? Is it always this good!? Why don’t women do this all the time, I can’t stop myself!” she babbled, eyes wide and cheeks burning as her whole body lit up with pleasure. “I never realised! I never knew it could feel so good! What’s happening to me, I can’t control myself, I just need more!”

Her fingers brushed a particularly sensitive spot deep inside her and her entire body quaked, back arching as a squeal of arousal burst from her lips. She clapped a hand to her mouth, tasting her own nectar and sweat as she panted into her sticky palm. “Oh gosh… oh gosh what if Yaz hears me?”

If anything, her pace quickened.

“Ohhhhh nooooo, what if I wake her up!?” The Doctor moaned, “Ohhhhhhh I’ll be s… so embarrassed! Sh… she can’t see me like this! What’ll she think of me!?”

She threw herself down into the mattress, sinking down as far as she could as her hand worked fast enough to blur between her quivering thighs. “Ahn! G… gosh… I… can’t stoooop! It’s so… so brilliant! D… does this always happen to women? Is… is it always so sudden? One moment I’m asleep the n… next I can’t… can’t help myself. It can’t be just me… b… but no-one’s ever s… said anything!? Is… is it secret? Is it t… taboo to talk about… about… about fingering my brand new pussy!”

The Doctor let out a despairing sob and chewed on her index finger, eyes rolling back in her head as she continued to fuck herself. “Oh gosh… maybe I sh… should ask Yaz? Sh… she’ll understand, she’s helped me so much already.” The Doctor suddenly focussed more, her second hand diving for her breast, sinking into the supple flesh and kneading it desperately. “M… maybe she can help me with this!”

On the other side of the wall behind her, Yaz purred with victory.

“Yessss, Yaz… Yaz will know what to do.” The Doctor mewled, eyes squeezed shut as she rolled her hips against her hand. “She’ll tell me if th… this is normal. If this is… is ok. She’ll teach me… teach me to… to be a… to be aaaaaaaiiiiii!”

The Doctor squealed suddenly, legs kicking and back curving as her first ever orgasm ripped through her. In her mind, the image of Yaz smiling down at her, beautiful and seductive, seared through her psyche. She could almost forget it was her own fingers driving her insane with pleasure, making her cum like a fountain, and not the beautiful, slender brown fingers of the girl who had taken her into her home. She could almost believe her daydream of Yaz, her best friend in the whole world, cradling her as she fingerfucked her pussy into a drooling sticky mess.

“Y… Yaz…” The Doctor panted, chest heaving and legs trembling as she caressed her swollen pink pussy. “You’ll know wh… what to do… you’ll know how to… take care of me.”

For a moment, Yaz wondered if The Doctor had worn herself out before the rest of her instructions could be carried out, her disappointment ruining the sadistic glow of pleasure The Doctor’s submissive whimpers had roused in her. Then, after a few moments of laying on her sweat-dampened sheets, The Doctor began to rub herself again, groaning lustfully.

“Have you ever done this Yaz?” she wondered aloud. “H… have you played with yourself, masturbated like I am? I can’t imagine you like this… out of control, all sticky and sweaty and… and gosh this feeling is too much to bear!”

The Doctor rolled onto her front, hand still hard at work as she took a pillow between her teeth and whined. Yaz grinned, seeing the plump blushing peach of the blonde’s butt wiggling and jiggling before her as her guest fingered herself.

“Am I broken? Am I wrong? D… did something happen when I regenerated to m… make me like this?” The Doctor whimpered after a while. “Wh… why can’t I stop? Why am I still so a… aroused!? What more can I do? What would you do Yaz? H… how would you help me if you saw me like thissss?”

The blonde’s eyes widened and she lunged for the bedside table, tearing open the drawer so hard it clattered to the floor, scattering its contents everywhere.

The Doctor leapt from the bed and began scrabbling on the floor, disappearing under the bed to snatch up the dildo. She stared at it in awe for a moment, entranced by its size, its shape, the simple unashamed lewdness of its purpose, and then she brought it between her legs.

She hesitated, kneeling with her legs spread wide, the head of the thick blue rubber toy nuzzling her starving lips, cool and firm against her heat and softness. “Th… this feels so… so wrong.” She whined hesitantly, and Yaz scowled at her tablet, only for her expression to soften as The Doctor bit her lip. “You’re not mine… you’re Yaz’s friend’s… b… but she left you behind. I’m only b… borrowing you. I… i… I’ll wash you off and put you back and nobody ever needs to know! B… besides, Y… Yaz said I could help myself to anything I needed… and I need you… I need you so bad you big… blue… dick. Ah!”

The Doctor groaned with delight as she sat herself onto the dildo, mouth open in a pleased pant as it sank inside her inch by inch, further than her fingers could reach. She clutched its base with both hands, pushing it inside as deep as she could make it. “Oh gosh… I’m… all full up.” She giggled deliriously, before beginning to tug the fat blue phallus back out of her sucking cunt.

“Is… this… how it feels!?” The Doctor panted, bouncing against her own hands, wet slurping sounds beginning to join the cacophony of moans, grunts and whines bursting from her lips. The Doctor was so wet the thought of lubing the dildo up before sinking it inside her never crossed her mind, her body was taking care of that in spades!

“Is this sex!?” The Doctor cried out, “Is this… is this what it’s like for a woman to… to get… to get fucked!”

Yaz was surprised how hot she found The Doctor finally cursing. It was like a teeny tiny example of her mind succumbing. A subtle reward for her hard work turning the sweet, dorky, silly blonde into her personal sexpet.

“Is this what she felt?” The Doctor continued, rolling her hips and shaking her tiny tits as she pounded her pussy, getting carpet burns on her knees as she writhed on the floor without a care in the world. “Your friend… is this what you did to her Yaz? Did you make her feel this good wh… when you fucked her!?”

Oh she had no idea, Yaz smiled. The things she would do to that poor stupid slut, she couldn’t even imagine.

“Ahn! Yes… yes Yaz it feels so good!” The Doctor sobbed. “Make me feel like she did! M… make me orgasm again! Make me lose control! F… fuck me!”

Any moment now. She was so close Yaz could tell, her entire body tensing and quaking as she feverishly slid the dildo into her hole, rambling and drooling on herself. Yaz was close herself, the beautiful buzzing between her legs making her chest heave and her muscles clench, all she needed was to hear The Doctor say what she wanted to hear, it would push her over the edge she was sure.

“Oh… oh fuck… oh fucking yessssss!” The Doctor fell back, flat on her back atop her knees as she slurped the toy in and out of her cunt. “Y… Yaz! Yaz I’m… I’m gonna orgasm again! I’m gonna orgasm f… for youuuuu!”

“Yessss.” Yaz purred, glowing with total satisfaction as she finally came, nestling down into her pillows as The Doctor’s squeal rang out through the wall.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaz!”

Yaz rode the afterglow of her victory for a little while, eyes shut as she finished her coffee and sighed happily to herself. She’d shut off the feed, its work done for the morning, and now listened to the faint panting and bumping furniture coming from the next room.

Once she’d calmed down she slipped into a simple silk nightgown and poured a second cup of coffee, checking her hair on the way out the door.

She knocked politely on The Doctor’s door, barely able to contain her excitement to see the state of her pet first hand. After a nervous plea for her to wait and a lot of shuffling, at last the door opened and The Doctor’s bright red face peeked out.

“Morning!” Yaz said brightly, presenting the coffee. “I thought I heard you up and about so I thought I’d make a start too.”

“Oh… th… thank you.” The Doctor stammered, gingerly reaching around the door and taking the coffee mug. “Um… I hope I didn’t wake you?”

Yaz smiled, drinking in the thick stench of arousal practically pouring out of The Doctor’s room. “No no, I’m a bit of an early bird. Did you sleep well?”

Even that most innocent of questions was a delight to watch The Doctor react to, as every sordid, sultry dream Yaz had planted in her unconscious mind came rushing back to the blonde at once. She went even redder, something Yaz hadn’t even thought would have been possible, and nodded her head.

“Y… yes! Yep! Brilliant! Perfect night! Slept like a log all the way through!”

“Great.” Yaz laughed, “Well, I’ll get breakfast together. Have a shower and get dressed. We’ve got a busy day.”

“Y… yes Yaz.” The Doctor mumbled shyly.

Yaz couldn’t help herself. “Everything alright?”

The Doctor looked like a deer in the headlights, so panicked and embarrassed even Yaz felt a little pity in her black heart.

“J… just some… things I’ll have to get used to.” she managed to blurt out after a moment of desperate fumbling.

“Well if you need any help, just come ask.” Yaz purred.

“I’m happy to teach you anything you need to know.”

The House Always Wins.

Result of the May Poll.

Veronica Sinclair, AKA, Roulette, runs the underworld's premier casino, bar, and metahuman gladiator pit. Sure, there have been a few setbacks, but her latest iteration of Glamour Slam is the most profitable yet, not to mention pleasurable. Just ask Black Canary and Rocket Red...

CW: Mind Control

-o-o-o-

The house always wins.

Most of the time it was just an idiom, but deep underneath Star City it took on another meaning.

The travelling casino, gladiatorial arena, and all around den of scum known only as ‘The House’ had come to town, and even despite its reputation, it was packed night after night. Because even if most who paid the underground club a visit went home having lost everything they’d bet, they’d still gotten to see one hell of a show.

Veronica Sinclair, better known to the rest of the world as Roulette, or by her employees simply as ‘boss’ was having a great night. Star City was a much better place to set up than Gotham or Metropolis, all she had to worry about were two nerds dressed up like Robin Hood, instead of an invulnerable blue boy scout or some kind of fucking vengeance demon.

Roulette sighed, leaning over the balcony in her private box, lithe curves snug in a red silk dress. Her emerald serpent tattoo glimmering along her exposed thigh all the way up across her exposed midriff, and down her left arm. She took a thoughtful draw from a cigarette, looking down into the arena, currently empty.

She was a gorgeous woman by any metric, tall and slender with a pert round backside and plump breasts snug in her luxurious silk. Her inky hair was tied back in a severe black bun, pierced with a pin that could just as easily pierce a person if the need arose. Her lips were soft and crimson, and behind her mirrored sunglasses, her deep brown eyes caught every little detail of the scene below.

All around her patrons and customers were gambling, drinking, flirting, but the energy was getting low. One or two of them had already cashed out and were wandering to the exits, it was time to get their attention back and their money back where it belonged: in her pocket.

Years ago she’d staged a little fight club named Meta-brawl. It had been exactly what it sounded like, metahumans of both heroic and not-so-heroic inclinations battling it out for the entertainment of her clientele. It had been a rousing success, until the aforementioned Robin Hood cosplayers ruined her fun.

After that, she’d had a revelation. People loved watching metas fight, but there were always favourites among them, ones that the public adored more than others, and ones that were lusted after even more. Sure, people would come to The House to watch freaks like Hellgrammite or The Atomic Skull, but no-one was going home imagining them naked and oiled waiting for them in their beds.

That’s when she’d created Glamour Slam! An unimaginative name perhaps but it doubled her profits for the previous month in the first day. First just featuring willing femme fatales from the criminal underworld, she’d eventually gotten her hands on a little mind control tech courtesy of a certain bald presidential candidate, to recruit some of the world’s most desirable super-hotties to join her roster.

Sure, maybe she’d gotten a little over-ambitious putting Wonder Woman, Vixen, Hawkgirl, Fire, and Black Canary all in the ring at once, but once she’d escaped prison and rebuilt her ring here in Star City, she’d realised the benefits of moderation.

She only needed one of them at a time to bring a crowd, and it just so happened one had come to pay her a visit not long after her move.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Roulette purred as the spotlights swivelled onto her box, holding her microphone to her sultry lips and grinning to her crowds. “Are you having fun tonight!?”

A cheer of affirmation went up, sending tingles down Roulette’s spine. “Well the fun’s only just begun, boys and girls… it’s only just begun. Because tonight in the ring we’ve got a hell of a match up for you all!”

In the amphitheatre below, two circular platforms descended, a thick mist pouring from both openings as the lights and music swelled.

“Our challenger for tonight is this very city’s favourite protector! The blonde bombshell in black! The heroic heartbreaker with an angel’s voice! Star City’s very own… BLACK CANARY!” Roulette cried, snapping her fingers as the woman in question rose into view.

Black Canary was legendarily beautiful, even compared with the other great female heroes of the world. Her golden hair and pouty lips, her toned, muscular frame and the utterly delicious dumptruck of her ass, it all put her on a pedestal even as a relatively normal human standing alongside literal gods and alien superbeings. Her outfit helped of course, a tiny black leotard that hugged her plump bosom and gigantic derriere snugly, almost disappearing between her doughy cheeks and leaving nothing but fishnets to cover her legs down to the boots on her feet. Behind her black domino mask, her lovely blue eyes were glazed over, fixed in a determined scowl straight ahead as she waited for her opponent.

“And our reigning champion of a whole three days!” Roulette cried, waving a hand in perfect unison with a plume of scarlet fireworks and sparks that flanked the rising podium holding the second of her playthings. “All the way from Siberia! Russia’s favourite daughter! The walking tank with a heart of gold! Anatolia Babicheva, fearsome member of the Rocket Red Brigade!”

A gigantic crimson figure pounded into view, metal exoskeleton glinting in the lights, bright red and chrome all immaculately polished. On the vaguely feminine behemoth’s right breast was a proud red star, on the other the number 09. From behind a glowing yellow visor on the figure’s otherwise featureless face, two bright blue eyes scowled at their enemy.

If Black Canary was surprised or intimidated, she didn’t show it, her expression motionless as she shifted into a prepared stance.

Roulette smiled and nibbled on the end of her cigarette, admiring both her gladiators behind her shades. She’d chosen the two carefully, a match that was sure to be exciting and run long enough to maximise her profits. Neither “hero” had a power set like the other, meaning the spectacle wouldn’t be dull and devolve into two samey metas shooting different coloured lasers at one another. Neither of them had met either, so they’d have a nice long period of trying to figure each other’s weaknesses too. One was a walking tank, the other a quick martial artist. Speed, skill, and a sonic shriek, versus an indestructible armour, a nearly unlimited arsenal of weapons, and sheer stubbornness.

Slowly, she raised a hand, a single playing card held in her fingers, and then she let it drop.

By the time the card hit the floor, the sound of metal fists and canary cries already filled the arena.

-o-o-o-

“Girls girls girls, you were magnificent!” Roulette cooed, stroking her palms over her gladiator’s shoulders as they stood naked in her office, peeled out of their costumes and battle suits straight out of the ring. They were bruised and sweaty, their perfect physiques glistening and stinking of exertion. Canary’s hair was a mess, a nasty bruise and a smudge of blood ruining her lipstick. Rocket Red was simply drenched with her own exhaustion, red-faced after hauling her armour through a tough fight.

“Thank you Mistress Roulette.” Both women smiled in unison, tone sleepy and slow, but genuinely pleased.

“We made quite a profit tonight, you should be very proud.” Roulette sighed, admiring them both before smiling and cupping their chins. “I know I am.”

“Thank you, Mistress Roulette.”

Roulette grinned and perched on her desk, crossing her slender legs and peering over her sunglasses to the pair of brainwashed panting bombshells before her. “Now, before you hit the showers there’s the matter of your prize. I’d never make my girls compete for nothing but my own amusement of course.”

Even mesmerised, Rocket Red grinned with delight and anticipation, flexing her titanic muscles on instinct. She wasn’t quite as pretty as Canary, a more muscular, masculine woman with enough scars to cover her almost completely, both from combat and from being biologically integrated into her battle suit. It had taken a dozen technicians to disentangle her from the crimson armour without killing her, but it was difficult to make love to a woman under two inches of steel and promethium. All in all, Roulette was glad she’d gone to the effort, Anatolia was a handsome adonis of a woman who, whilst a different kind of beauty to Black Canary, was gorgeous enough to be one of Roulette’s personal favourite gladiator/ love-slaves.

Anatolia had been the clean winner of the fight, knocking Black Canary firmly onto her fantastic ass with a crushing blow to the head. Roulette was proud, but definitely needed to find someone to knock Red on her own metal butt before her clientele got bored. Perhaps it was finally time to for a certain star-spangled amazon princess to return to the ring?

“Well, you know the rules. Dinah, be a good girl and lie on the floor.” Roulette smiled, stroking Red’s chest with a nibble of her lip, enjoying the warmth of her skin and the eager tremble of the Russian behemoth. “Anatolia… sit on her pretty face, and I’ll give you your reward.”

“Yes, Mistress Roulette.” Red whimpered, immediately kneeling down over Black Canary’s impassive face, and setting her sweaty pussy down on the blonde’s waiting mouth. No sooner had her head been swallowed up between Anatolia’s thighs and her panting lips smothered in cunt, Black Canary did as she had been programmed and began to eagerly and messily devour the woman who had beaten her.

“Ahn… M… Mistress Roulette… thank youuu.” Anatolia whimpered, staring pleading up at the woman who controlled her as Roulette smile and slid her panties down her legs.

She stepped neatly out of her underwear and took off her heels, placing them beside her on the desk before parting her thighs and lifting the silky hem of her dress. “Come get your prize, Hero.”

Anatolia didn’t need to be asked twice, lunging forwards and clutching Roulette’s thighs in her strong, calloused hands, nuzzling her lips against the Asian bombshell’s soft, wet cunt.

If either hero thought anything was strange about how they were rewarded for their performances in the ring, they didn’t show it. Match winners got to taste Roulette, match losers pleasured the woman who had beaten them. Both Dinah and Anatolia were delighted to brainlessly tongue their respective cunts, eyes glazed over, the only thoughts in their heads the ones that Roulette allowed them to think.

Roulette sighed happily and stroked her fingers through Anatolia’s blonde buzzcut, silently encouraging her current champion to devour her. The Russian adonis’ bright blue eyes stared up at her even as her lips and tongue explored every inch of Roulette’s pussy, kissing and sucking and stroking her with desperate passion. For such an impressive specimen, she was adorably eager to please. Roulette decided she’d have Anatolia oil herself up and do some flexes for her later before round two.

Whilst Anatolia was lovingly grasping Roulette’s supple thighs, Black Canary’s were hard at work below. One strong gloved paw was clutching Anatolia’s ass as it rolled and wiggled against her face, the other was between her own legs, frantically masturbating as the taste of sweaty Russian cunt dominated the mesmerised vigilante’s tongue.

She was wildly envious that Anatolia had won the honour of devouring Roulette, dreaming about submerging her own tongue deep into her criminal mistress’ petals and tasting her delicious depths, but second place wasn’t bad either.

High above, muffled by the weight of muscular Russian thighs, Roulette’s cry of orgasm rang out and Dinah realised her fun was at an end. She whined as Anatolia staggered to her feet, depriving her of the intoxicating flavour of her cunt, and slowly rose as well, panting as she stood before Roulette, who was as immaculately beautiful as ever.

“Well done girls… very well done.” She smiled, brushing some stray strands of obsidian back into place. “Now, about your rematch tomorrow, what do you think? Should I bet on black, or red?”

“I… I will crush her mistress!” Anatolia gasped eagerly, “I’ll make you proud!”

Roulette smiled and turned her gaze onto Black Canary, standing proudly, determinedly, her warrior spirit restored even as she panted, face smeared with quim and pussy sopping wet. “And you, Canary?”

Dinah smiled, as if there were any doubt.

“Always bet on black, mistress.”

My Doctor.

Just as before, The Doctor fell to earth, found a group of new friends, and defeated an alien menace. But not everything is as it should be, Yasmin Khan is not the sweet, well-meaning young police officer The Doctor might have befriended. Instead, gifted with formidable psychic powers, Yaz lives a life of hedonistic luxury, and she wants The Doctor to be hers.

-o-o-o-

The swish of the changing room curtain being flung open finally drew Yasmin Khan’s attention away from her perfectly manicured nails.

She’d been waiting for almost a half hour now, bored and impatient, with no-one but a mouth breather called Ryan Sinclair for company. He seemed to think they’d gone to school together years ago, but she certainly didn’t remember him. Maybe they had, but she refused to waste any time thinking about boring people. She was a woman of expensive tastes and little patience, used to getting what she wanted when she wanted it, not waiting around for other people. It was bad enough she was standing around in a charity shop of all places, but the woman now grinning at her from across the room had insisted.

She still wasn’t quite sure what to think of The Doctor just yet, which was surprising for Yaz. Ordinarily she sorted those she met into two simple categories: those worth her attention, and those too boring to care about.

Ryan, for example, fell firmly into the second category. Honestly when she’d stopped looking at him to impatiently scroll through her emails she’d forgotten he was even there. The Doctor, on the other hand, had still been in her thoughts even as she sighed and rolled her eyes and scowled at her phone.

She was beautiful, of course, Yaz would never waste her time on anyone who wasn’t. Her short blonde bob was bouncy and golden, her smile big and goofy, her body slim but still nicely curved. She was maybe a little plain compared to Yaz’s usual tastes, but she was charming and cute and definitely easy on the eyes.

It wasn’t her looks that Yaz was focussing on though.

The Doctor was… weird. She was eccentric and energetic and talked about strange and impossible things as casually as Yaz talked about shoes or her nails or trips to Milan or Paris. She didn’t seem to care much about politeness or social norms, saying whatever popped into her head and doing whatever she felt like needed doing. She was definitely somewhere on the spectrum, but there was more to it. She talked like aliens and other worlds weren’t just real but something she dealt with every day.

Ordinarily that would have been a dealbreaker, Yaz never stuck her dick in crazy after all, but after everything that had happened in the past week maybe the blonde wasn’t so insane. A supposed alien bounty hunter, a big electric tumbleweed, a freaky space onion… well, Yaz was having a hard time dismissing it all as nonsense. The Doctor was so certain it was hard not to believe her, but even so, she was so strange that Yaz refused to take her at face value.

Yaz still found The Doctor’s oddness more endearing than irritating for now, but it was so unlike her to get so caught up on a woman who wasn’t the kind of perfect beauty she usually deigned to spend time with.

She raised an eyebrow as The Doctor beamed at her and Ryan, arms still outstretched, showing off her chosen outfit.

It was monstrous. Yaz had never seen something quite so ugly before, at least not in the world of fashion. The Doctor had chosen a boxy, androgynous ensemble that suited her eccentric personality perfectly, but was hardly easy on the eyes in Yaz’s not so humble opinion. Blue pants too wide and too short so they showed off her shins but completely hid the curves of her leg. A huge grey coat that covered her from shoulder to ankle. A formless blue jumper with a dull, muted rainbow across it. Mustard yellow suspenders and massive brown boots that were a horror shows Yaz couldn’t even begin to deal with.

“That’s what you’re going with?” She said, the entire ensemble actually making her wince.

The Doctor’s grin widened and she nodded. “Oh yeah!”

“Absolutely not.”

The blonde’s smile faltered. “What?”

“Back inside, I’m not letting you go out in public dressed like that.” Yaz sighed, striding close and steering The Doctor back towards the changing room. The blonde wiggled in her grasp and broke away, pouting.

“Come on Yaz, I like it.” she frowned, playing with her suspenders and swishing her coat around. “On some worlds this would be considered high fashion!”

“Doctor.” Yaz said, voice firm and eyes dark. “No.”

Ordinarily that would be all it took for a person to obey her. The right tone of voice, the right dominant, commanding purr, and any man, woman, or child would happily do whatever she desired. It was the secret to Yaz’s success, why she lived a life of luxury without a job, how she afforded her eye-wateringly expensive wardrobe and her luxurious house in the country and her frequent trips to fashion shows all across the world. She simply told people what she wanted, and they fell over themselves to give it to her.

The Doctor was no different, but Yaz could sense a resistance in her she hadn’t been expecting. Even as the blonde pouted and hung her head, allowing Yaz to slide an arm around her shoulders and steer her back into the changing room, she frowned and mumbled about how much she liked her awful clothes.

Maybe The Doctor really was an alien, or maybe she was just a mutant like Yaz, gifted with abilities usually confined to the pages of comic books. Either way, Yaz finally knew why she’d been unable to dismiss the weird, goofy woman from her thoughts.

She was the one thing Yaz had never had in her life: a challenge.

And Yaz was going to conquer her completely just to prove that she could.

“Well… what’s wrong with it specifically?” The Doctor sighed, staring forlornly down at her boots and tugging at the lapels of her coat.

“Doctor, trust me, this is what I do.” Yaz smiled, staring deeply into the blonde’s eyes until The Doctor blushed and averted her gaze. “Now, let me see what you’ve already gotten whilst you get undressed.”

“N… now?” The Doctor asked hesitantly, “With you watching?”

“Doctor, it’s fine.” Yaz cooed, flashing a reassuring smile and patting the blonde’s shoulder. “It’s just us girls here. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

The Doctor perked up immediately, grinning and nodding her head. “Yeah, course’ we’re friends Yaz!”

“Then you can trust me to dress you properly, can’t you?”

The Doctor’s smile faltered again, conflict evident on her features, but after a moment she shrugged and nodded again. “Yeah… yeah I suppose. You’re a snazzy dresser, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

“Great.” Yaz said, waving for her to get on with it, before taking a seat and beginning to rifle through the pile of clothes The Doctor had snatched up but ultimately rejected. Most were ugly garbage just like what she was already wearing, but there were one or two pieces Yaz thought were passable. She had already decided that she would have to take The Doctor to a proper clothes boutique as soon as possible, but getting the blonde into an outfit that wasn’t horrible was the current mission.

She smirked, watching closely as The Doctor hesitated to undress, frowning and pouting to herself before her features relaxed and her mind succumbed. The blonde quickly pried her massive boots of her feet, shed her coat and unlooped her suspenders from her shoulder. She paused for a moment, glancing up shyly at Yaz, hands on her waistband.

“It’s ok, Doctor. We’re friends.” Yaz smiled. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

The Doctor’s cheeks flushed and she gave a small, embarrassed smile, before tugging her pants down to her ankles and stepping out of them. Yaz’s eyebrow arched as she saw the pair of baggy grey boxers the blonde was wearing.

“What are those?”

The Doctor glanced down at her hips and squirmed uncomfortably. “Er… the shop doesn’t sell underwear.” She mumbled.

“This is what you were wearing under that suit?”

The Doctor folded her arms over her stomach. “They fit better when I was a bloke! Now my body’s the wrong shape.”

Yaz decided not to waste time getting into how The Doctor ‘used to be a bloke.’ She’d tried asking what exactly the blonde meant by that before and gotten no answers, it was simply something she would have to come back to when The Doctor was feeling more… compliant.

“Well, we’ll just have to get you some tomorrow.” She sighed.

The Doctor perked up. “Tomorrow?”

“Well you’re not getting an entire wardrobe here.” Yaz laughed, “This is just to get you something to wear other than those rags you’ve been in. I’ll take you into town and get you some real clothes tomorrow, new shoes, new bras and panties, enough to keep you going.”

The Doctor blushed again, this time even harder than before, and Yaz noted how she tugged on the hem of her shirt, trying to cover herself with the dark blue fabric.

“Doctor… are you wearing a bra?” she asked softly, trying to hide her excitement.

“They… they don’t sell any underwear.” The blonde groaned, “None at all! I was a man yesterday I wasn’t expecting this to be an issue! I don’t even know how to start! Are there bra shops? Different types? How do I know what size I’m supposed to get?”

Yaz couldn’t help but grin, standing up and pulling The Doctor’s hands away from her shirt. “It’s ok, Doctor, I’ll help.” She promised. “I can take your measurements now, if you like.”

“I don’t know… we only just met.” The Doctor mumbled.

Yaz squeezed her hands, forcing the blonde to look at her, and once she did she found herself staring deeply into the rich brown pools of Yaz’s eyes. Her torn, embarrassed expression relaxed, her pupils dilating and mouth hanging open just a little, as Yaz’s words flowed over her like the tide.

“It’s alright, Doctor, you can trust me. I’m your friend. I know what I’m doing.”

“Of… course.” The blonde repeated quietly. “You know what you’re doing.”

As Yaz sat back down and returned to innocently sorting through the pile of clothes The Doctor had compiled, the blonde swallowed and lifted her shirt. Part of her was horribly embarrassed. She’d never had breasts before, but she knew well enough that showing her boobs off to someone she’d only spent a day or two knowing wasn’t considered normal on earth. She really wanted to be Yaz’s friend, to be friends with all of the people she’d met in her short stint of existence. What if flashing her new body made Yaz uncomfortable and their blossoming friendship stalled right out of the gate?

Another part of her, a strange, secret part she didn’t even know how to describe, was eager to see Yaz’s reaction. The beautiful young woman had offered to measure her, after all, but what would she think about The Doctor’s breasts beyond that? Were The Doctor’s first ever set of boobs good ones? Were they what humans liked? The right shape, the right size? Did Yaz think they suited her body, or would she disapprove just like she had of her clothing choices?

If Yaz liked her boobs, how would she behave? Would she blush and avert her gaze? Would she smile and flirt with The Doctor? How would she talk about them? How would she get her measurements, would she touch her, and if so, how? Would she be gentle, careful, her fingers brushing over The Doctor’s skin as she made the mental calculations? Or would she be aggressive, strong, dominant? Would she grab hold of The Doctor’s boobs and squeeze her, feel her up, take advantage of the situation to explore her soft new chest?

The Doctor cleared her throat, cheeks burning at the thought, as Yaz continued to work through the clothes, not even looking at her yet. She dropped her shirt and shivered in the cool air, noticing how her nipples tingled and stood to attention on the soft mounds that now swelled from her chest. Being a woman was going to take some getting used to, but she had to admit she liked the view.

“Um… so, how does this work?” she asked after a few moments of anxious waiting.

Yaz looked up at her, eyes darting between her face and her chest, a smile coming to her face that made The Doctor’s hearts race.

“You look so nervous, relax!” Yaz laughed, “I won’t bite.”

The Doctor laughed too, still very nervous despite what the younger girl said, covering her nipples with her palms. “Sorry… new experience. I think I’m quite socially awkward now, being naked probably doesn’t help. I used to be above all this self-consciousness, insecurity about my body, I wonder if it’s because I’m a woman or if it’s just the new me?”

“You’re not self-conscious because you’re a woman.” Yaz sighed, standing up and gesturing to herself. “Do I seem insecure?”

“Well, no… not really.” The Doctor admitted. “But you’re a beautiful young woman, you’ve spent all your life growing into your body, I only just saw myself in a mirror a few minutes ago.”

Yaz smiled at the compliment, taking The Doctor by the shoulder and spinning her around to face the floor-length mirror against the wall of the changing room. As The Doctor blushed and fidgeted, she gently grasped her hands and brought them down to her sides, keeping them pinned by her hips just forcefully enough to keep the blonde in place, but not enough to alarm her.

“You look beautiful too, Doctor.” Yaz said, “Look at your face, look at your body, you have nothing to be insecure about.”

“Really?”

The Doctor looked so cute and hopeful Yaz wanted to take a bite out of her, but she restrained the urge to lock her lips onto the blonde’s slender neck, and instead released her wrists.

“Of course, now hold still.”

Yaz always carried a tape measure in her handbag, it was a practical necessity when so much of her time was spent revolving around fashion, and in no time at all her slender fingers were stretching the thin white band across The Doctor’s heaving bust.

“Oooh!” the blonde squeaked, “Cold!”

“Hold still, Doctor.” Yaz tutted sternly, hiding her smile behind The Doctor’s head as her hands brushed the pert little mounds of the blonde’s bosom. Her breasts were nice, but nothing spectacular, two small perky swells each capped by an adorable rosy nipple. Yaz preferred her women bigger, but again that was something she could address once The Doctor was ready to listen to her properly.

“34B.” she said finally, letting her breath blow over The Doctor’s shoulder, lips just a little bit too close to her to be appropriate. The Doctor only shivered, flesh raised to goosebumps as she blushed and admired herself in the mirror.

“Is that… good?”

“It’s your size, what do you think?” Yaz chuckled.

“I think they’re nice, they suit me.” The Doctor decided, encouraged, only for her face to fall as she saw Yaz’s condescending smile. “Don’t they?”

“You’re a little on the small side, the national average is 36DD.” Yaz shrugged, feigning disinterest, “But your opinion is what matters.”

“Right.” The Doctor smiled weakly, staring a herself in the mirror again. What would she look like with bigger boobs? Would they suit her better than her current size? Looking back on it a lot of her friends and companions had been bigger than her, she really should have asked about their experiences. Though maybe that wouldn’t have come across quite as intended whilst she was a man. Didn’t big boobs hurt women’s backs? She thought she’d heard that before, but River had never complained and she’d had the biggest breasts out of all The Doctor’s friends, as the blonde fondly remembered.

“I can measure your waist and hips whilst we’re at it, if you like.”

The Doctor blinked, realising she’d been ogling herself in silence. “What?”

“Whilst we’re here, I can do all your measurements.” Yaz repeated, “It’ll save us time tomorrow.”

“Oh, ok. Sure!” The Doctor nodded, “Measure away!”

“As you wish.”

Yaz hummed quietly to herself as she worked, mind racing with the possibilities of what she could put The Doctor in. Her petite frame and stature would suit cuter, girlier ensembles, things that would compliment her flat chest and nubile hips. She wondered how far she would have to push The Doctor to convince her to slip into thigh-high socks, a short skirt, a crop top and a cute choker? Hell, how much work would it take to get her to put on some cat ears as well?

She grinned, palming the blonde’s slender waist as she noted down the data.

Maybe if she filled The Doctor’s figure out a little, she’d be perfect for fully glamming up. She pictured a low-cut cocktail dress, glittering and seductive, clinging to her curves and showing off plenty of leg and cleavage. If she fluffed out the blonde’s lovely hair and put on a little make up, she’d be Hollywood beautiful, perfect for hanging onto Yaz’s arm at a runway show.

“Let’s take off these ugly things.” Yaz purred, grabbing The Doctor’s boxers and tugging them down before she could complain.

“Eeek! Yaz!” The Doctor squeaked, mortified, her hands flying to her womanhood as Yaz pulled her underwear down to her ankles.

“It’s ok, I just need to be able to measure your hips and legs.” Yaz said, “Don’t be shy.”

“I… I don’t know.” The Doctor frowned, “This feels…”

“It’s ok, Doctor. Don’t be shy. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Yaz said firmly, “Show me, and I’ll tell you what I think.”

The Doctor hesitated. She felt like this was definitely not what was normal when shopping for clothes. Surely women didn’t always have to strip naked and let employees see everything when they got measured? But Yaz seemed so confident, and just from the outfits she’d seen the girl wear The Doctor knew Yaz had an eye for fashion.

Besides, she was curious to hear what Yaz thought about her… well, her vagina.

She raised her hands awkwardly, biting her lip as she looked at her reflection. Like usual she’d regenerated with a little body hair, a soft blonde fur over her crotch and around the warm pink lips of her new genitals. She had some fuzz under each arm as well, but beyond that it seemed like she was a lot less hairy than previous bodies, which was a relief. It was always a lottery when it came to how a new form would look, sometimes new hair would sprout where it hadn’t before, and sometimes she’d even lost some after the revitalising glow had died down.

As far as she could tell, her womanhood was perfectly ordinary, but she had yet to work up the courage to investigate it properly.

She gasped as Yaz brought the tape measure up towards her crotch. Was she about to touch her there? That intimate spot even she hadn’t explored yet? What would that even feel like? How would Yaz do it?

Her terror and anticipation faded into a mix of relief and disappointment as Yaz simply pressed against her inner thigh, terribly close to The Doctor’s blushing lips, but not actually touching them.

“There we go, now we’re ready for tomorrow.” Yaz said brightly, straightening up and patting The Doctor on the back. “Are you alright, you look a little flushed?”

“Oh… oh I’m ok.” The Doctor stammered, “It’s just a little embarrassing is all.”

“Well we’ll get you covered up in a moment.” Yaz laughed, “Just let me see if there’s anything outside that’ll suit you. Wait here.”

As she turned and left through the curtain, she couldn’t contain her grin.

Ordinarily, Yaz didn’t do charity, or second hand clothes, but eventually she had scoured through the rejects of The Doctor’s pile, along with every rack and shelf in the building, and assembled something she could stand to see The Doctor wear.

In just a minute or two she’d gotten The Doctor covered up, much as she wished she could have left her nude, watching closely as the blonde slipped into what Yaz had chosen for her. It was almost as good as watching her strip, seeing those cute tits bounce and that tight ass jiggle as she struggled into her new wardrobe, blushing and fidgeting all the while.

Yaz had resisted the urge to put The Doctor in something overly slutty just to see what she could get away with, instead choosing something light and feminine, but hardly conservative. Anything was an improvement over the disastrous first ensemble, but given the limited options she’d had, Yaz was pleased with the result.

The Doctor was now dressed in a simple, pale pink blouse that fit loosely over her frame. It’s wide collar showed off the blonde’s chest and neck, where a cheap yet cute necklace Yaz had found was resting. A short, light grey skirt hugged the Doctor’s waist and hips, again light and floaty, showing off her legs from the knees down. On her feet were a pair of simple white pumps, the best Yaz had been able to find out of the charity shop’s dire collection of footwear.

“What do you think?” she asked, watching The Doctor closely as the blonde admired herself in the mirror.

“I look so… pretty.” The Doctor grinned, “Wow, I never knew how nice being feminine felt!”

“I’m glad you like it.” Yaz chuckled, putting just a little power into her voice as she stepped up behind The Doctor and casually adjusted her top. “You do like it, don’t you?”

The Doctor’s grin widened. “I do!”

“Good girl.” Yaz breathed, just softly enough The Doctor didn’t hear, before she put a hand on the blonde’s waist and steered her towards the curtain. “Now, let’s go home.”

“What do you think, Ryan?” The Doctor smiled eagerly as they stepped out into the store.

“Wow Doctor, you look like a whole new person.” The poor idiot grinned, eyes drinking in the blonde’s figure from head to toe. Yaz rolled her eyes and patted The Doctor’s back to regain her attention.

“Tomorrow we’ll get you everything else you’ll need.” She promised, leading The Doctor past Ryan towards the door, shooting a cold sneer over her shoulder as she pushed her new plaything out into the street. “Clear up the rejects and pay for us, it’s the least you can do.”

Ryan’s eyes glazed over in an instant and he silently trudged away, leaving Yaz to take her prize home in peace.

Unhappily Ever After.

Result of the April Poll.

After the incident in their childhood, Elsa is locked away in her room in Arendelle Castle. Unbeknownst to her, the magic that hurt her sister Anna has left her a very different princess, and how that Anna is ready to become queen, an example must be made of the witch who cursed her.

CW. Bad end. Exhibition. Humiliation.

-o-o-o-

Life had never been easy for Princess Elsa of Arendelle. Even at a young age she’d been special, she’d been different. Of course, even if her strange abilities hadn’t manifested she still would have been raised in a palace as heiress to the kingdom, hardly a normal childhood, but that had never been in the cards.

For as long as she could remember Elsa had loved the cold, she would sleep with the windows of her bedroom wide open, crying if her parents came to close them and shut out the freezing air. She’d gone out into the snow whenever she could, sitting and playing in it without a coat or boots, perfectly content.

And then the cold had started following her. Wherever she went the temperature plummeted, fires died down, frost crept over the windows, and even a simple touch would freeze a glass of water or a simmering bathtub.

Her parents had been nervous, but understanding, and for a time things had been happy.

Then she’d lost control.

Then she’d hurt Anna.

It had been an accident. A slip that sent a bolt of magical cold into her baby sister’s helpless body and changed the course of both their lives forever.

Elsa had been locked in her chambers, told only that her parents were desperately searching for a cure to save her sister’s life. Then she was told that Anna would be fine, that some magical cure had spared her. Then the news that her parents had died in a storm came, and after that, only silence.

So many years of silence.

Elsa grew from a child into a woman alone, her only interaction with the wider world coming as the meals were slid into her room through a hatch in the wall, and what she gleaned from peering out her windows.

She knew things were not right in the kingdom, even cut off as she was. The city had once rung with laughter and music and friendly chattering crowds, now it was quiet. The meals that she received, once rich and lovingly crafted and worthy of a princess, had been replaced by little more than gruel. As she’d grown out of her childhood clothes nothing had been given to replace them, and now the first-born princess of the realm and heir to the throne, was forced to wear rags she crafted herself from the remnants of her girlhood wardrobe.

It wasn’t until after her twenty-first birthday that anything changed, and Elsa quickly wished it hadn’t.

She was awoken from her sleep by a crash as the door that had been sealed for over a decade slammed open and the first people she’d seen in just as long marched in, spears lowered.

She shrieked in alarm, clutching her tattered rags to her chest, as the guards closed ranks around her. Already her fingers were crackling with frost, her bedsheets freezing solid as she scrambled back against the wall and trembled.

“W… what’s happening? What… what are you doing here?” she croaked, voice weak and quiet from disuse.

“No magic, witch, or we’ll run you through.” The Guard Captain growled, “Not a word from your lips or a twitch of your fingers, understood?”

“P… please, I’m not safe… I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Was that a threat?”

“No!” Elsa wailed, flattening herself against the wall as the guards pressed their spears forwards. “Please! I can’t control it. I’m sorry! I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want j… just please keep away from me!”

Frost was already creeping over the vicious points of each spear pointed at her. Elsa could feel the cold pulsing out of her with every breath, her chest heaving with panic. She needed to calm down, she knew that, but her rational mind had no control over her terror. She was going to hurt someone, one of the guards would step too close or slip on the icy floor, and then all of the others would put her down like a rabid dog.

She sobbed, curling up into a ball and covering her head with her arms, waiting for the inevitable.

Instead, the cold eased. Her breath stopped fogging the air, the crackle of freezing fabric and frosting wood fading, only to be replaced by a quiet humming.

“Happy birthday to me.”

“Happy birthday to me.”

“Happy birthday Queen Anna”

“Happy birthday to… me.”

Elsa lifted her head, staring wide-eyed past the guards who had lifted their spears away from her. In the doorway was a beautiful red-headed woman, dressed in an extravagant red and purple gown embroidered with gold. A golden tiara was perched on her rich copper hair and each of her fingers were adorned with yet more gold and jewels.

Her hips were broad, her bust plump, her figure accentuated by a corset and the low neckline of her dress. Her breasts, huge and pale, were scandalously on display almost in their entirety, a deep valley of cleavage proudly displayed.

Elsa hadn’t seen her sister in over a decade, but it was immediately clear Anna was no longer the sweet little girl she’d known.

“Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday, sister?” Anna cooed, sweeping into Elsa’s room with a smile on her face, not caring a bit that her elder sister was hunched and quivering in the corner.

“A… Anna?”

“Queen Anna.” Her sister corrected sweetly, “You are my sister so I’ll permit you not to call me ‘your majesty.’”

“It’s been so long… you’ve… you’ve grown up.”

“As have you.” Anna smiled, eyes tracing up and down Elsa’s cowering body, drinking in a figure just as voluptuous as her own.

Yes, poor Elsa’s decade-long diet of gruel had somehow failed to prevent her body from exploding outwards into a picture of womanhood. Her tits were huge, her backside broad and bubbly, and all of it was almost entirely bare thanks to the rags clinging to her body.

“Y… your birthday.” Elsa mumbled. “You’re… eighteen? And you’re… Queen?”

“I know!” Anna laughed, clapping her hands happily, “At long last! Honestly spending so long having to act through regents was sooo wearing.”

“R… regents?”

“Yes, you needn’t worry about them though, they served their purpose.”

“A… Anna I don’t understand?” Elsa swallowed, struggling to her feet and staring warily at the guards still standing at the ready around her.

Her sister smiled, but her eyes were cold and empty. There was no love in them, no warmth… no life. Elsa shuddered, immediately averting her gaze from Anna’s inhuman eyes as she realised something was deeply, deeply wrong with her sister.

“I’ll explain on the way.” Anna drawled. “Guards, get her out of those rags and put on the collar.”

“W… wait no!” Elsa squeaked as the guards advanced on her, expecting them to freeze as soon as they came anywhere near her, but to her surprise she was grabbed and yanked forwards without issue. She whimpered as her makeshift clothes were torn away by rough, calloused hands, ones that wandered over her body far too much even once she’d been stripped.

Before she could question how her powers had somehow vanished and why Anna would be so cruel, a heavy leather collar was strapped around her throat and the leash hooked to it politely handed to Anna.

“My… my powers.” Elsa whispered, clutching the collar fastened around her. “Where did they go… am… am I cured?”

“Not cured, just declawed.” Anna sighed, giving the leash a tug that forced Elsa to stumble a few paces towards her. “Your ice magic won’t be hurting anyone ever again.”

“H… how?”

“You remember the trolls, don’t you?” Anna smiled, pulling her towards the door. “Such potent magic, just like yours… they saved my life after your little assassination attempt, but I knew they were far too dangerous to let live.”

She reached into her cleavage and produced a tiny pouch, pouring a fine grey dust out onto the floor.

“Trollsand. It turns out grinding those miserable little pebbles down into powder and spreading a circle from their remains will neutralise any and all magic within… very convenient when one has to deal with an ice witch.” Anna chuckled “As of just a few minutes ago, Arendelle’s borders have been ringed with Trollsand, our realm is finally safe from magic for good.”

Elsa’s eyes widened, staring in horror at the tiny pile of grey sand before Anna tugged her past it. “You… you… murdered them?”

“Of course.”

Before Elsa could begin to wrap her head around her sweet little sister committing genocide, her earlier words drifted back into her mind.

“Wait… assassination?” she whispered, “You think… I tried to kill you?”

“Naturally. Once everyone knew what you were, mother and father would have made me their heir.” Anna shrugged, forcing Elsa to follow her closely as she swept through the halls. “That’s why you murdered them too.”

“No!” Elsa sobbed. “Anna, how could you s… say that?”

Anna smirked over her shoulder. “It’s good to give the people a villain, it makes them happy to have someone to hate, someone to blame. The beloved king and queen are lost at sea, who’s to say they didn’t strike a mysterious iceberg to clear the way for an evil witch to take the throne?” she yanked Elsa’s leash, sending her elder sister tumbling onto her knees with a squeak. “How lucky they are to have me to save them.”

“Wh… what happened to you?” Elsa sobbed, hanging her head and clutching her heaving bosom in her hands. Even in the warmth she was shivering, her skin raised to goosebumps, her heart racing with humiliation just as much as terror.

“I grew up with a heart of ice.” Anna sighed, stooping low and forcing Elsa to stare up at her. “Your fault, of course, but I’m actually grateful.”

She pulled Elsa back to her feet and began striding down the stairs towards the front gates of the castle itself.

Elsa’s eyes widened as she struggled to keep up with Anna’s pace, surely her sister wasn’t going to take her outside? She wasn’t wearing a stitch! How many people were out there, citizens of Arendelle who would crowd the streets to see their queen walking amongst them? What would they think as she was paraded in front of them naked and collared like a common mutt?

“Not having to worry about love, or friendship, or mercy, it’s liberating.” Anna smiled cheerfully, “I expect you’ll wish you didn’t care what people thought of you in a few moments, dear sister.”

“A… Anna… where are we going?” Elsa whined, tugging against the leash, trying to slow her sister’s stride. Anna was stronger than she looked, effortlessly pulling Elsa along even as she struggled.

The guards threw open the doors to the castle and, with a cruel giggle, Anna pulled Elsa out into the cool Arendelle air.

Elsa froze, not literally of course, though she wished she could have conjured a blizzard just to hide herself. Her eyes widened and her throat closed up as she stared at the crowds gathered in the courtyard, all cheering for her sister, and laughing at her.

“Hail the Red Queen!”

“Look at the Ice Witch!”

“Long live Queen Anna!”

“Not so powerful now, monster!”

“Long may she reign!”

“She makes a better whore than a princess!”

“Bring the Ice Bitch here, your majesty!”

“Look at the size of the Ice Bitch’s udders!”

Elsa sobbed, covering her heavy breasts and silver-haired pussy with her hands as best she could, as the jeers and wolf whistles of countless peasants washed over her. There were so many of them, hundreds upon hundreds, every citizen of Arendelle lining the courtyard and the long bridge that led to the town beyond.

She could feel their eyes on her body. Leering at her breasts as they bobbed and jiggled on her chest, squished tight by her trembling hand. Sneering at her bubbly backside, bouncing erotically with every stumbling step. Every inch of her was on display for them to enjoy and mock, nothing was sacred, nothing was safe.

Anna yanked her leash hard and Elsa tumbled onto her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks as she landed on all fours. A cheer went up from the crowd, and yet more jeering taunts flooded her ears.

“That’s better! Show off those tits!”

“It’s a better position for an Ice Bitch, that’s for sure!”

“Her ass looks even fatter when she’s on all fours!”

“Make her crawl, your majesty, like the bitch she is!”

Anna only laughed to herself and continued her stride, her pace too quick for Elsa to recover from her fall properly, having to scrabble and crawl on her hands and knees or be dragged along by her throat.

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the roar of the crowd she was paraded past them to god knows where. The cobblestones were rough against her knees, the breeze was cold against her skin, and between her thighs, even as she whimpered and trembled and crawled like a dog, a perverted heat emanated from her long-neglected pussy.

She’d been alone so long, isolated from everyone in the whole world, and now she was the centre of attention, a sexual object, albeit an unwilling one. It didn’t matter, the attention was making her wet, and it was an even worse humiliation than her crawl of shame.

She opened her eyes, blinking through the tears as Anna’s pace finally slowed. Before her, in the centre of the town square where the bridge to the castle began, was a large glass cage.

It was strangely beautiful, a ten foot bell of slender glass bars, floored with soft straw. Elsa had no idea how it had been made, but positioned as it was whatever, or whoever, was inside could be admired by the whole town at every hour of every day.

“Anna.” She whispered. “P… please.”

“You can crawl in, or my guards can throw you in.” Anna smiled, opening the door to the oversized bird-cage and gesturing for her to climb inside. “They’re just aching to get their hands on you.”

“I never meant to hurt you.” Elsa sniffed, slowly making her way forwards. “I loved you so much… it was an accident… you’re my baby sister… my whole world…”

“Yes yes, very touching.” Anna rolled her eyes and slammed the gate closed so hard Elsa thought the bars might shatter, instead they sealed shut and her sister turned to face her adoring subjects.

“Citizens of Arendelle! Have no fear! I, your Queen Anna the first, have defeated the murderous Ice Witch!” Anna cried out, raising her hands. “To prove there is nothing to fear under my rule, the witch will be held here on public display for the rest of her days! Let her fate be a reassurance to all good citizens that your queen cannot be defeated by any power on this earth, and let it be a warning to any who might be foolish enough to question my reign… if I can bring such a dangerous and villainous beast so low, what do you think I’ll do to you?”

The crowds cheered and bowed, and Anna purred with delight, but all Elsa could do was sit and hug herself and desperately try to ignore how sopping wet she was in her brand new home.

-o-o-o-

“Please… please sir. I’m so hungry.”

Elsa’s voice was weak and pathetic, a meek whisper that barely caught the attention of the guard marching past her cage. He paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth as he turned his head to sneer at the naked blonde cowering just across the square.

In the months since Queen Anna’s coronation the novelty of seeing the Ice Witch caged in the town square had died down. Oh, people still laughed and leered at Elsa every day as she sat naked and miserable in full view of the kingdom, but she no longer drew the crowds of vicious onlookers she once had.

Elsa actually missed it. The attention had been humiliating, but it had been nice in a strange, perverse way. More importantly when she’d had dozens of peasants laughing and spitting and jeering at her, they’d thrown her scraps either to hurt her or to bribe her into showing off her body. These days she had to make do with her single daily bowl of gruel.

“S… sir… please, take pity.” Elsa pleaded, reaching through the bars of her cage.

“Surprised a monster like you knows the word ‘pity.’” The guard scoffed, wandering a few steps closer but remaining out of reach of Elsa’s clawing hands. “What do you want?”

“J… just a bite, sir.” Elsa whimpered. “Please… a crumb, anything at all.”

“And what do I get from this bargain, huh?”

Elsa bit her lip, and did what she needed. She sat up and pressed her chest against the bars, her fat pale tits squishing through the gaps and wobbling enticingly in the guard’s face. Elsa parted her thighs and thrust her hips forwards, showing off her hungry, hairy cunt as the guard grinned and shook his head.

“The other lads on the guard told me you were a slut.” He chuckled, reaching into his pants and drawing out his cock. “You’ll do anything for a meal then, Ice Bitch? Or is it this that you’re really hungry for?”

“I’ll do anything, sir.” Elsa mumbled. “Please.”

The guard laughed and stepped forward, smacking his cock across Elsa’s blushing face before pushing into her waiting mouth. The former princess of Arendelle only whined and began to suck, bobbing her head and swirling her tongue and dreaming of better days. How many men had she done this to? how many more dicks would she suck or stroke or bend over for before she finally died?

It didn’t matter.

This was her life now, a public use fucktoy for all the kingdom to enjoy.

Her unhappily ever after.

The Councillor's Calling.

Councillor Tevos might have been the most powerful woman in the galaxy, the representative of the Asari species in the Citadel Council and a formidable political power. Unfortunately, she also owed Aria T'loak a few too many favours, accrued over her statesmanship in less than legal deals to maintain her power and position.

Blackmailed into obedience and humiliated time and time again, she was ordered to come to Omega for a special project Aria was working on. Arriving to her new home, Tevos was quickly converted into yet another brainless bimbo, doomed to spend the rest of her life happily on a stage, or on her back...

This piece was done by the wonderful Loreleia to accompany my story: Slaves of Omega.

The Rescue

Result of the second March Poll.

Kelly Chambers has been miserable ever since she left Shepard and the Normandy rather than return to the Alliance. On the run from Cerberus, she finds her way to Omega, only to receive an offer that will save her from life as a homeless fugitive.

-o-o-o-

Kelly Chambers was not built for life on the run.

To be honest she’d barely been suited for life aboard a warship like the Normandy, but at least then she’d had the support of her crew to help her through it.

Now she was wandering through the galaxy by herself, scrounging for credits to feed herself and stay off the streets. She took odd jobs, begged passage on cargo ships, all the while knowing that Cerberus would put a bullet in her the second they found where she was hiding.

Life was rough, and she missed her friends, her crew, even her bunk on the Normandy. She missed Shepard’s comforting presence beside her as she stood at her terminal, ready to provide whatever the commander needed at a moment’s notice. She missed Gabby and the other girls, talking over breakfast or drinks between their shifts, making friendships as they facilitated the heroes of the galaxy’s quest to stop the collectors.

She missed the sex. God she missed the sex.

Shepard taking her by the hand, leading her up to her private cabin, and railing her into a drooling puddle. Jack slapping her ass, cornering her in the showers and forcing her face between her thighs to choke on her biotic bitchbreaker. Miranda’s regular massages that always ended with Kelly’s dainty hands around her cock and the genetically perfect bombshell’s seed on her tongue. Even Samara that one time, after the death of her daughter, taking violent, passionate comfort in Kelly’s tight little holes until her big blue balls were empty and all her anger, grief, and regret had been drained along with them.

Kelly was a bit of a nymphomaniac, but she was on the run and that didn’t really give her the opportunity to attend to her needs. Worse than that, it barely gave her any opportunity to take care of her appearance at all.

Her once glossy ginger hair was now dull and greasy, her flawless skin pale and pallid. Her sculpted and womanly body was thinner thanks to malnutrition, her eyes red and watery from lack of sleep. Her hands were calloused, her lips were cracked, she could barely afford food let alone cosmetics, and she hated it.

She groaned miserably and rubbed her eyes as the entire ship she’d been squatting in for the past week shuddered around her, waking her from another night of uncomfortable sleep. Around her, a half dozen other refugees, outlaws, and fugitives were already pacing around the hold, waiting for the bay doors to open so they could make a break for it.

Kelly sat up and did a quick sitrep, nothing was missing out of her pockets and the coat she’d been using for a pillow was intact. That was the sum total of all her possessions accounted for.

She stood and shambled to the door as it began to open, jumping down from the ship onto the dock floor. Above her were the craggy rock walls and burnt orange skies of Omega, accompanied by the scent of acrid smoke, sweat, and other things she didn’t want to think about.

She and her fellow ‘passengers’ collected their bearings for a moment, stretching and enjoying being back on solid ground for a moment.

The peace was shattered with a single gunshot, and suddenly a dozen mercenaries appeared, marching towards the group, all wearing the colours of the Queen of Omega

Pandemonium broke out. Some passengers darted one way, others went the opposite direction, one tried to climb back into the ship only to be kicked in the face by a crewman and sent tumbling back down onto the dock. Kelly just stood, too tired to run, to miserable to fight, and sobbed as she was cuffed and dragged away.

She’d expected to be dragged to a prison cell, and maybe she had, but somehow she didn’t think Omega’s prisons had leather couches or club music blaring outside their cells. She sat, still handcuffed, and eyed the Batarian guard nervously. As a very loving xenophile she’d enjoyed spending time with almost every sentient species in the galaxy, the Batarians were not among them. They hated humans, were violent, rude, and fascistic thugs, and quite frankly they weren’t exactly knockouts in the beauty department.

She’d never missed Shepard more. The commander would have swept in to rescue her in a second, beaten the ugly brute to a pulp, and swept Kelly back home to her cabin to make love until the stars went cold.

Instead, she sat in silence until the door hissed open, and the real threat walked into the room.

Kelly had never met Aria T’loak, but the rumours had done the pirate queen justice. She was tall, muscular, stunningly beautiful, and absolutely terrifying. Her dark eyes were like a shark’s as she looked Kelly up and down. Her skin was flawless lavender, her outfit pristine, her curves full and womanly, yet far subtler than Kelly would have expected for an Asari of her age. Aria’s plush purple lips curled into a small smile as she saw Kelly’s fear and the blush in her cheeks, and she cleared her throat mock-politely.

“Kelly Chambers, isn’t it?” Her voice was low and soft. “One of Shepard’s crew… an assistant, yes?”

“Y… Yeoman.” Kelly mumbled, averting her eyes as Aria came closer and sat in the chair opposite her.

“And what brings you to Omega, Ms. Chambers?” Aria asked, “I heard Shepard took very good care of her crew when she returned them to the alliance, shouldn’t you be in a nice, comfortable cell back on earth?”

“Cerberus would have found me… even there.” Kelly shook her head, still not looking aria in the eye. “It’s s… safer to hide.”

“I don’t know about that.” Aria purred, “You’re lucky I found you before the Eclipse, they’re always looking for fresh toys… or worse the Blood Pack. Being fed to their Varren is probably the best you could have hoped for if they got their hands on you.”

“How did you know who I was?”

“Oh, I acquired a full list of the Normandy’s crew some time ago. If Shepard had decided to cross me I was fully prepared to storm your ship and enslave everyone aboard, after a little reconditioning you all would have made excellent escorts, bodyguards… pets…” Aria sighed forlornly, “A shame, but such is life.”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me?” Kelly swallowed, finally forcing her gaze up to meet Aria’s.

The purple matriarch smiled, almost kindly, and stood up. “I’m here to rescue you, Ms. Chambers.” She waved a hand and two young asari came into the room, snug in tight, revealing dancer’s outfits. They helped Kelly to her feet and unlocked her handcuffs.

“Enjoy yourself, Ms. Chambers. My girls will take very good care of you.” Aria smirked before stepping out of the tiny office. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

-o-o-o-

Aria’s girls did take very good care of Kelly, in fact within just a few minutes she was putty in their hands, helpless to resist them even if she had wanted to.

She’d protested weakly as they stripped her down, peeling her dirty brown jumpsuit off her body and tossing it into an incinerator, but that had been all. She hadn’t been sorry to see the awful thing go, but standing naked in front of two beautiful Asari didn’t feel quite so exciting when she looked like she’d been dragged through a landfill.

Thankfully, that was what Aria’s girls were there to fix.

They pushed her gently into a bath the size of a small swimming pool and set to work. Kelly all but melted the second she was submerged, feeling the tension and stress dissolve off her body just as quickly as the dirt and grime. As one girl began to scrub her down from head to toe, the other began lathering her hair with scented oils and god knows what else, massaging her scalp with slender blue fingers.

It was equal parts bathing and massage altogether actually, with every knot, kink, and ache meticulously rubbed, stroked, and pressed out of Kelly’s body as she floated helplessly, moaning with thankful bliss.

She whimpered in terror as one of the girls produced a straight razor seemingly out of nowhere, bringing the sleek steel blade up against her flesh, but once again as the girls worked, Kelly quickly submitted to their expertise.

She was shaved from head to toe, every stray hair below her eyebrows taken care of. Kelly moaned as the girl with the razor gave her naked pussy an affectionate pat once her thick ginger bush had been carved away, feeling her desperate lust taking over. She managed to catch the other girl as the one with the razor set to work on her armpit, weakly clutching her wrist with one hand and pulling her close for a hungry kiss. The girl seemed happy to oblige, and soon Kelly was floating in her embrace, clutching her close as their lips met and her skilful digits pumped and curled in her long-neglected womanhood.

It was the best Kelly had felt since Shepard had taken her aside and pounded her farewell at the edge of Council Space.

When at last the girls pulled her from the bath and blasted her dry with deliciously hot air, Kelly felt like the woman she’d been at her best, and couldn’t help but smile to herself as the girls set about the next phase of preparing her.

In moments, the girls dressed her completely and stood back to admire their handiwork. Kelly was now snug in pale purple lingerie, a lace brassier, a cute yet sultry pair of panties, a delicate choker, and on her feet a pair of comfortable pale slippers like a ballet dancer. Over the ensemble was a gossamer negligee that fluttered with every movement, almost completely transparent.

“You’re ready.” One of the girls smiled approvingly, taking her hand whilst her colleague to the other, guiding the delighted Kelly out of the baths and into Aria’s lair.

It was amazing, the polar opposite of everything Omega was outside. Soft music floated through the air with the scent of floral perfumes. Light and art shined along the walls. Beneath Kelly’s feet was a soft carpet, and on either side of the long, thin chamber comfortable chairs and overflowing bookshelves and amply stocked liquor cabinets stood waiting to be enjoyed.

As she was led to the throne, a shining silver chair with plush purple cushions aria was lounging on, Kelly couldn’t help but notice the other girls. There were three, all young, pretty humans like her, dressed in identical lingerie and all doting on Aria with utter loving devotion. There were only two things that set Kelly apart from them: the glowing omni-tattoos glowing over their hearts, marking them with Omega’s symbol, and their smooth, swollen bellies.

“Ms. Chambers.” Aria smiled, gently pushing one of her pregnant playthings aside so she could admire Kelly’s makeover. “You look… delicious.”

“Th… thank you.” Kelly managed to mumble, completely unable to tear her eyes away from Aria’s soft purple breasts, her toned stomach, and the fat, well-lubricated pillar of asari cock bobbing between her thighs.

“Did my daughters treat you well?”

Kelly glanced up at the two young asari who had taken such excellent care of her, blushing immensely as she saw the family resemblance. “Y… yes.”

“Wonderful.” Aria grinned, leaning back and stroking her cock with a lazy hand. “Now, you can see what I’m offering you but I’ll spell it out just to be sure. I can protect you here, from Cerberus, the alliance, the whole galaxy. I can give you a life without worry, without pain or fear, and all I ask for in return is your obedience.”

“B… but.”

“Ah ah.” Aria said, holding up a single finger. Kelly shut up on the spot, even as kind as Aria was being her eyes were cold and dark and terrifyingly enticing. “Only speak when you’re ready to give an answer. Say no and I’ll drop you off at the nearest hotel with enough credits for food and fresh clothes. Say yes, and you’ll become mine, body and soul. I’ll give you a life of bliss and a baby in your belly and you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

“I… I can’t.” Kelly mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut but still seeing Aria’s perfect purple dick throbbing in front of her. She could barely think, her heart racing, her pussy aching and slathering for attention. All she could smell was the perfumed air and Aria’s musk. All she could hear was the Queen of Omega’s soft chuckling and the faint, comforting music. All she could feel was the soft, tight lingerie, the warm air on her naked flesh, the carpet under her feet, under her knees.

All she could taste was Aria’s cock in her mouth.

“Good girl.” Aria purred as Kelly sank to her knees and began to kiss her matriarchal meat like a blushing schoolgirl, peppering her hard, heavy cock with sweet pecks that left little purple marks of lipstick behind.

Kelly’s eyes fluttered open and she mewed with need, staring up at Aria as she covered every inch of her skin with kisses. “Please.”

Aria bared her teeth in a victorious smile, placing a gentle palm on Kelly’s scalp. She enjoyed the softness of her latest plaything’s copper-coloured hair between her fingers, the heat of her breath on her cock, the softness and wetness of her loving attention, then pushed Kelly’s face onto her dick.

Kelly moaned as her lips were filled, her hands resting on Aria’s thighs as she sank lower and lower onto the matriarch’s foot-long tower of cockmeat. It was so big, but it felt so right, like she’d been born to suck on Aria’s cock and nothing else.

Her eyes rolled back and closed as the flavour of her mistress filled her, and as she surrendered completely, the last thing she heard was the voice of Aria T’loak inside her mind.

“Embrace Eternity.”

The Tournament.

Result of the first March Poll.

Kate Bishop stumbles home after a difficult week of balancing crime-fighting and teenaged life, only to find herself transported to a strange place, facing a foe from another universe...

-o-o-o-

Life as a teenager was strange.

Life as a superhero was strange.

Life as a teenaged superhero was strange.

Life as a teenaged superhero with no superpowers other than a high pain tolerance and a mentor fuelled primarily by coffee, whilst all your friends could either punch into different dimensions, stretch like a rubber band, or were just certifiably insane… well, strange didn’t do it justice.

Or maybe he did, having a guy literally called Strange on speed dial did not make Kate Bishop’s life any less confusing.

And she had to share the same codename with her mentor!

She was just an ordinary Olympic-level athlete with uncannily accurate aim who had wanted to make a difference in the world, she hadn’t expected that to make things so complicated.

And yet, as she staggered back into her flat and fell face-first onto her couch, she couldn’t help but reflect on the week she’d just had.

Monday: College, interrupted by the Wrecking Crew, she’d gone to bed with a black eye and more bruises than she cared to count.

Tuesday: College, uninterrupted, but she’d come back home to find her faithful dog Lucky had been kidnapped by a dragon, a teleporting bulldog, a psychic falcon and a frog in a cape to go and fight an alligator with a horned helmet.

Wednesday: No classes, but Gwenpool. Just… Gwenpool.

Thursday: No classes, but she’d been drafted to stop a Kree invasion of earth, which had required a team-up with her ex… (ugh.)

Friday: College, which had been followed by her mother the vampire making yet another attempt to reconnect with her, despite the fact that she was A: an undead bloodsucker who had B: Faked her death. C: Abandoned her family. And D: spent the past ten years working for various criminal organisations.

Saturday: No classes, but she had taken an emergency trip to the Shrimp Dimension after America accidentally dropkicked a Prius into it during a battle with Ultimo.

Sunday: Today, she’d trained with Clint, politely listened to Kamala’s latest fanfiction, stopped Gwen from being perforated by the Maggia, and stopped a half-dozen muggings/carjackings/assaults on the streets of LA.

She was exhausted, bruised, and officially out of patience with an insane universe that insisted on making life difficult for her. She was going to take a hot bath, grab something to eat, and sleep until everything went to back to normal again.

It was at that point the couch beneath her liquified and she tumbled into an endless black vortex.

Her landing knocked the wind out of her, and she lay for a few moments on her face, reflecting on how she really should have expected to be abducted. It was the only spot on her superhero bingo card that hadn’t been checked, after all.

She struggled to her feet and peered around the dark chamber she’d landed in, nocking an arrow just to be safe. She couldn’t see much, but it seemed she’d landed in a large circular amphitheatre-like chamber, probably underground somewhere. The ground under her feet was a smooth black stone, arranged in hexagonal pillars everywhere, some jutting from the ground, but most forming a mostly-even surface. There was a strange smell too, something sweet, something nice, and something vaguely familiar. Like a perfume she’d smelled at a party once before, long ago.

Suddenly fire erupted all around the edges of the chamber, illuminating it in warm, flickering light of both bright blue, and rich purple.

Kate raised her bow, eyes instantly locking onto another young woman standing a few dozen metres away. She was maybe five or six years older than Kate was, with a short bob of white hair and a sleeveless white and pale blue suit. Clearly another metahuman, but not someone Kate pegged as obviously villainous, at least not yet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fiends and friends alike, welcome!” a booming female voice crashed through the amphitheatre, and in an instant a roaring crowd appeared around the borders of the chamber’s high ceiling. “For your entertainment tonight, Azlara Fleshfinder has procured two delectable gladiators for your amusement! None other than two mighty mortal heroes from the greater multiverses of man!”

“Oh brother.” Kate groaned. This was not her first time being forced to duel another hero in gladiatorial combat, but whatever the voice was talking about was beyond her. She did not mess with multiverse stuff, that was America’s deal and Kate stayed far, far away from it. As for the demonic horde currently cheering and crowing at her from the stands… well, she supposed it had only been a matter of time before she got dragged into some hellish shenanigans.

In a flash of hellfire, a tall, red-skinned woman popped into being right between Kate and her adversary. She was beautiful and dressed to kill, her lithe form snug in a black velvet gown with a plunging neckline. A string of glossy pearls hung around her neck and from her pointed ears. She beamed cheerfully at both young women and clapped her hands.

“Darlings, welcome welcome welcome!” She purred. “Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Azlara, I am your referee for the evening.”

“Referee?” the white-haired woman scoffed, her voice carrying a thick Norwegian accent. “More like kidnapper! What do you want from us, devil? To fight?”

“Naturally dear.” Azlara nodded. “But don’t fret, you needn’t kill. Just put on a good show for my patrons and I’ll pop you right back home.”

“No killing huh?” Kate scowled suspiciously, arrow still trained on the demon’s smiling red face. “And we’re supposed to trust you’ll just let us go.”

“Darling I’m a fiend of my word!” Azlara gasped, flicking her wrist and conjuring a contract out of thin air. “See? ‘The patron guarantees wellbeing of all participants who comply with the rules of the event.’ I am the patron, and your only rule is to fight with all your might until one of you is defeated. Oh, but don’t try and be clever and forfeit without a battle, you are here to entertain first and foremost. Now, that’s quite enough preamble, you’re both smart young ladies and I’m certain you won’t disappoint. Now, do have fun, and put on a good show now!”

Azlara vanished and the blue and purple flames circling the arena began to grow brighter, spinning faster and faster, tangling together like they were fighting one another too.

Kate shot a wary look at the white-haired girl and shrugged. “Listen, I’m happy to play along if you are? Not that trusting a demon is necessarily a good idea.”

“I do not wish to see the alternative.” The white-haired girl sighed, “I will try not to harm you too badly, my friend.”

“Likewise.” Kate sighed, before a deafening bell rang and she leapt backwards. Her first arrow flew but was swatted aside in a flurry of snow as the white-haired girl charged.

“And we begin!” Azlara sang with delight. “Kate Bishop, the tenacious Lady Hawkeye begins with a startling shot but Tora Olafsdotter, the magnificent Ice, counters her with ease!”

“It’s just Hawkeye!” Kate yelled, ducking behind a pillar as another micro-blizzard came crashing down towards her. She swore as snow poured over the top of the stone slab and showered down onto her, nocking another arrow before spinning and letting it fly.

Ice dodged it, but not as easily as the second. It seemed using her powers was a considerable strain, she was already sweating as she poured a bolt of freezing air out of her palm with the force of a hurricane.

She might have had power, but Kate had speed, and more than a few tricks up her sleeve.

As Ice fired another blast of cold her way, Kate sprinted in a wide arc around her, reaching into her quiver and drawing a putty arrow. She narrowly avoided the freezing ray, sliding to a halt with frost clinging to her hair and steam rising off her skin, but managed to land her third arrow exactly where she’d wanted it.

Ice yelped as the arrow exploded at her feet, splattering her lower legs and the surrounding area with a thick orange goo that almost immediately hardened around her.

Kate couldn’t help but grin, already reaching for her next arrow to knock Tora down and put an end to the match, only for her confidence to shatter along with the putty as Ice kicked free of it. Just coming into contact with her body had been enough to freeze the gel into uselessness, and Kate barely had time to register what that might mean for her backup plans before Tora nailed her in the chest with another icy beam.

“Whuh!” Kata grunted, landing flat on her ass and skidding backwards. Her entire upper body felt like she’d just dunked her tits in a glacier, her suit crackled with frost, the strap that held her quiver snapped clean off as it was flash-frozen.

“Sorry!” Ice called, shooting a flurry of snow at her so thick and heavy it would have almost certainly buried her for good. Fortunately, Kate managed to roll away just in time, scrabbling at her scattered arrows and twisting to face Tora.

A flare-arrow hit Tora right in the forehead, knocking her off her feet with a stunned yelp before it burst into flames on the stony ground. It was a cheap shot, and it was gonna hurt like hell, but Kate couldn’t take another hit like the one Tora had just hit her with.

She staggered to her feet, breathing hard and trying to tell if Ice had been knocked out by her shot, or just knocked down.

The answer came with an ice blast so cold it burned, shot directly into her stomach.

Kate flipped through the air, smacked into the wall on the far side of the amphitheatre, and crumpled to the ground. She couldn’t even begin to sit up, just lying sprawled and stunned as the echoing bell rang out once again.

“What excellent foreplay!” Azlara cried out with delight. “So short and sweet, just like our lovely competitors! Our winner tonight is Tora Olafsdotter! Celebrate and rejoice for the marvellous, the magnificent… ICE!”

Kate groaned, her vision clearing to show her Tora limping towards her, face twisted by concern. A nasty red welt was on her forehead from Kate’s last arrow, and she was avoiding putting weight on her left foot, but other than that she look alright, at least, until the bell tolled again.

As Kate watched, Tora froze and gasped as if she’d been slapped, her eyes wide and her mouth open. She stumbled back a few steps, her foot suddenly healed as the bruise on her head vanished. She stared at her own hands, breath steaming the air as the temperature of the amphitheatre plummeted.

“Wh… what… is…?”

“To the victor go the spoils!” Azlara sang, and soon the entire crowd was chanting the same thing, as Tora howled in agony and began to change.

Her snowy white hair shot from her skull, cascading down her back like an avalanche. Her bright blue eyes turned completely white to match. Her teeth extended into vicious fangs whilst her fingers cracked and warped into merciless talons. Her entire body began to swell with muscle, her suit creaking under the pressure before shattering like glass off her newly amazonian physique.

Tora screamed again, but this time with rage, with lust, as two immense curling horns pierced her forehead from within, and a monstrous demonic cock sprouted from her crotch.

“Welcome, sister Tora.” Azlara purred, appearing at her side and kissing her lovingly. “I name you Tora Bloodfreezer… now, do enjoy your victory.”

Tora snarled approvingly, licking her lips with a new forked tongue, and set her sights on the helpless archer before her.

-o-o-o-

“Aiiiiiiiieee!” Kate squealed as she was bounced in Tora’s lap, her head between her knees as the once-cute Norwegian superhero ploughed her in a full nelson hold. She was helpless, legs bobbing and arms flailing as Tora’s absolutely jacked arms kept her pinned.

The demon who had been Tora’s cock was thicker and longer than anything Kate had ever dreamed of putting inside herself, and now it was being rammed inside her without mercy or restraints, ruining her tight teenaged pussy for anyone but Tora, or maybe the hulk.

“S… stooooooop!” Kate begged, tears pouring from her eyes and drool splattering her chin as she was bounced mercilessly. “Puh… pleeeeeeease!”

“Yessss, scream!” Tora growled, “Scream little breeder! Scream for mommy!”

Kate felt like she was melting and freezing over and over again, her brain short-circuiting with pain and pleasure alike. She’d never felt anything like this before, being filled so completely, being stretched out so she could fit Tora. It was like her body was being re-made for it’s new demonic owner from the inside out.

Her eyes crossed and rolled, her tongue lolled out of her mouth, as Tora tightened her grip on Kate’s skull and rammed her hips upwards inside her. Kate’s vision was forced downwards, and as she saw her belly bulge massively from Tora’s monstrous cock, she came her brains out. A jet of quim arced from Kate’s pussy and shattered with a delicate tinkling sound on the stone floor, frozen solid in an instant.

“N… noooo… fuuuuck!” Kate gurgled, shaking as her orgasm tore through her, her nubile chest heaving and her toned stomach quaking as it was invaded over and over again.

She wasn’t a virgin, but this wasn’t an awkward first time or just fooling around with a boyfriend, this was breeding sex, this was her being used like a piece of meat to be fucked and knocked up like it was her only purpose in life.

“You cum before me?” Tora roared with laughter, “Weak fighter, weak fucker! Your mommy Tora will break your tight pussy in properly, have no fear. Soon you take my cock like professional slut!”

“Waaaaaaaaaah!” was all Kate could reply, sobbing for breath as her brain froze, melted, then did it all over again. Her tears froze on her cheeks, her drool solidified into icicles on her chin. Her nipples stood to attention thanks to the temperature as much as her helpless arousal, cold, hard, diamonds of flesh ready to be enjoyed.

“I breed you, Kate Bishop.” Tora snarled, biting her throat sharply. “I make you mine. My pet pussy. My cute little teenaged toy!”

No sooner as the words left her mouth, Kate let out a piercing scream of agony, arousal, ecstasy and despair, as freezing cold cum exploded into her virgin womb and bloated it with demonic seed. Kate came her brains out, her stomach swelling under the onslaught of satanic spunk even as jets of ice-cold cum escaped her stuffed cunt and splattered the floor.

She felt Tora’s fangs at her neck, her hands on her skull, her cock buried impossibly deep inside her body. She felt Tora’s mind assaulting her own, conquering her memories, warping her desires, until she couldn’t remember who she was or where she’d come from or what warmth or comfort or freedom even meant.

She felt something deeper. A corruption. A tainting. Her very soul being marked as demonic property, and she came yet again, passing out as she was transformed from Kate Bishop, well-meaning young hero into Kate Bishop, demonic broodsow and daughter of sin.

-o-o-o-

Kate groaned and sat up from her couch, pressing a palm to her forehead.

Man did she have a headache. She couldn’t remember being hit in the head at any point in the evening, in fact she couldn’t remember anything that had happened that evening. She must have just come straight home after her patrol, watched porn and played with her naughty little pussy before passing out. That’s what she always did, and yet her head was really pounding.

She shrugged and stood up, giving her tits an affectionate squeeze before stretching and making her way to the kitchen. Her headache was nothing a bag of frozen peas couldn’t fix, after all, and then she could get back to fingering herself.

Kate Bishop grinned at the thought and reached into the freezer, blissfully unaware of the brand glowing on her very soul, and the demonic child growing in her womb.

-o-o-o-

Hope you enjoyed. My plan going forwards is that any poll that results in a tie will have a story with both characters. I haven't decided if they'll all be in this tournament format, let me know what you think in the comments.

Possibility...

Out partying with the girls of Blackwell, Max finds herself getting wilder than she ever normally would. Maybe it's something in the water, or all her friends behaving like sluts, but as she looks in the mirror, she glimpses the kind of girl she might become if she keeps on her present path, and she can't tell if it scares or excites her more.

These images made by the wonderful Dinoboy, and incorporated into a larger series you can see Here!

Conquest

Result of the February Poll.

After stealing The Enterprise's secrets from Hoshi Sato, the Lapuzia set their sights on T'pol. With everything they need already acquired, all that's left for the Lapuzia to do is enjoy their prey...

-o-o-o-

There were few delights as sweet as a Vulcan woman’s scream.

The Lapuzia Captain sighed with satisfaction, biting her lip as T’pol trembled and panted like a bitch in her lap. She tugged on the Vulcan beauty’s nipple and made her plump tits wobble and bounce. Her tongue slithered over T’pol’s blushing cheek, tasting her skin and sweat, before coiling around the tip of her pointed ear. Her free hand, the one not pinching a rosy Vulcan nipple, spread the woman’s pussy wide so her two subordinates could easily invade the green-blushing hole with their hungry tongues.

The group were sat on T’pol’s bed, the Captain lounging imperiously against the wall whilst the room’s owner whimpered and drooled in her grasp. Each of the Lapuzia Lieutenants who had accompanied her aboard The Enterprise were kneeling, their heads tight against one another, their mouths kissing and sucking and driving their prehensile tongues deep into their Vulcan victim’s babymaker. In the corner Hoshi Sato sat and smiled to herself, oblivious to everything that was going on around her, buck naked and slathered in Lapuzi spit.

Just a short while before, all five women had enjoyed a dinner courtesy of Captain Archer, but no sooner had the guests retired, the Lapuzia captain had once again acquainted poor Hoshi with her mind-killing tongue.

The first kiss The Captain had shared with Hoshi had introduced a controlling submissive lust into the young human, to make her all the more easy to manipulate and mine for secrets. The second session of tongue-rape had overwhelmed Hoshi entirely, opening her mind and shattering any defences she might have had to prevent any old psychic from coiling her thoughts around their little finger and making her a dumb, docile plaything. The third taste had erased her entirely, The Captain was still debating whether she should even bother restoring Hoshi’s identity, or just leave her as a mindless, obedient sex-slave when she’d had her fun. She’d be happier that way, but The Captain doubted The Enterprise would care about that.

Regardless, there were far more exciting thigs to pay attention to at the moment, such as adding her own tongue to the ones invading T’pol’s body.

The Captain had been aching to taste T’pol ever since coming aboard The Enterprise. She loved Vulcan women, and a gorgeous Vulcan bitch snug in a slutty little suit, acting so cold and emotionless even as she wiggled around the Enterprise with her udders jutting out a foot in front of her and a dumptruck ass that barely fit into any seat aboard the ship, was irresistible.

Making a woman melt inside and out was what The Captain lived for, but doing it to a Vulcan was a rare treat she had refused to ignore. She’d lashed Hoshi with her tongue as soon as they were out of sight and devoured everything the human cutie knew about T’pol. Moments later she and her lieutenants had arrived outside the subcommander’s cabin, and sweet Hoshi had unlocked it for them.

T’pol had been confused, not that she showed it, as her crewmate came into her supposedly locked room without announcing herself or asking for permission. Seeing Hoshi in the state The Captain had left her in, a drooling, smiling, brainless mess, her uniform hanging open, her flawless skin slathered in Lapuzi spit and vivid blue lipstick, had stunned her long enough to seal her fate.

The Captain’s lieutenants had tackled her onto her bed in an instant, tongues whipping against her, hungry for any opening to violate and neutralise their prey. T’pol had fought valiantly, but a simple gasp of surprise had doomed her. No sooner had her lips parted, two thick wet tongues dived inside her, conquering her mouth and establishing a link that had soon made the thrashing Vulcan relax whether she wanted to or not.

As her lieutenants had shredded T’pol’s skin-tight suit and began coiling their tongues around her heaving breasts, The Captain had smiled and slipped out of her own suit. T’pol’s eyes had been wide open with silent horror, rage, and fear, but she could no more resist The Captain’s kiss than she could ignore the boiling heat building between her thighs.

Poor T’pol. So unused to arousal, to the cravings The Captain had drawn out of her tightly-controlled mind. Aside from their once-in seven-years Pon Farr breeding frenzy, Vulcan’s kept their urges locked up, which was why breaking those locks was The Captain’s favourite thing. An ordinary Vulcan was cold, efficient, painfully logical, a Vulcan in heat was like a wild animal concerned only with getting fucked.

Before their lips had even met T’pol was trembling, eyes dilated and cheeks flushed green. Her hefty tits had rose and swelled with her panting breaths, shoving up into the hungry Lapuzi mouths playing with them. Her thighs had squeezed tight against one another, her toes curling, the crotch of her ruined suit dark and wet.

The Captain had lowered herself down slowly, eyes never leaving T’pol’s, smiling as the Vulcan whined and opened her mouth, tongue extending ever so slightly, desperate to meet The Captain’s own.

“Say please…” The Captain had cooed, just out of reach.

“P… please…”

It was a pitiful noise, and the Captain was a cruel enough woman to have wanted to hear more.

Just millimetres from T’pol’s lips, so close she had felt the heat of her prey’s breath on her tongue, she had straightened up and sighed, patting her Lieutenants on their backs and drawing them away from the Vulcan’s desperate body too. Well trained by their captain and lover, each Lapuzia had immediately abandoned their Vulcan victim and began to attend to their commanding officer, one nuzzling her plump yellow tit, the other slithering her tongue along the curve of her hood.

“Puh… please!” T’pol had sobbed, too weak to move, “Please… please!”

“You’ll have to earn it, sweet.” The Captain remembered teasing her, “Like lovely Hoshi.”

At the mention of her name, Hoshi’s daydreaming smile had widened and she instantly answered her master’s call, stumbling to The Captain and joining the Lieutenants in worshipping her body. T’pol had stared desperately as Hoshi wrapped her lips around The Captain’s nipple and began to suck, her silky hair being sifted between long yellow fingers, rewarding her for her mindless obedience. That look of longing need was everything The Captain liked to see from her pets.

She’d enjoyed the attention for a few moments, then settled herself on T’pol’s heaving chest, her glistening womanhood just waiting for a hungry Vulcan tongue to be complete. “The only way you’ll earn your satisfaction is to please me.” she’d purred, “So eat my pussy like a good Vulcan slut, it’s only logical.”

T’pol hadn’t needed convincing, diving forwards and passionately kissing The Captain’s cunt. She’d heard the laughter of the women who had invaded her cabin, felt her cheeks burning with shame, known in the back of her brain that she was being used, abused… but she hadn’t cared, not when obedience felt so good.

With her mind slaved her strength returned. T’pol’s hands had rose up to grab The Captain’s thighs, clutching her tight against her face as her lips kissed and sucked at her new mistress’ pussy. Her tongue had pushed, probed, wriggled and lapped at The Captain’s sweet pink insides, filling her mouth with her flavour and only making her more desperate to please.

T’pol’s own tongue and nose were far more sensitive than a human’s, even if they couldn’t match a Lapuzia’s, and it hadn’t taken long for her senses to melt under the assault. The stink of her, Hoshi, and the Lapuzia’s arousal had drowned her. The flavour of The Captain’s cunt overpowered every tastebud, and she realised that the taste would linger on her tongue for days once The Captain was finished with her.

She hadn’t cared one bit, not if it meant pleasing The Captain, not if it meant that she could earn the vicious fucking her poor body was screaming out for. She was young for a Vulcan, only one Pon-Farr under her belt, and her body had been simply unprepared for the kind of pleasure and need The Captain altered her brain to crave.

Her eyes had glazed over, she’d devoured Lapuzi pussy with obsessive focus, worshipping The Captain like a goddess. Her thighs had spread wide, her hips had bucked, her needy neglected pussy had become a sopping, sticky mess between her legs. Her mind, under a thick fog of lust and imposed stupidity, had begun to dream of a life away from the Enterprise, away from humans, away from the high command. A life where she could just obey her Captain and know that she would be loved and cared for no matter what. No logic, no ego, no judgment… no thought. Just obedience and love.

That was the state she now lived in, after hours of merciless pleasure from The Captain and her Lieutenants.

T’pol was naked and helpless in their grasp, her buxom body dripping with sweat, spit, and psychoactive lipstick. Her nipples ached for Lapuzi teeth. Her pussy throbbed for Lapuzi tongue. Her ruined mind cried out for the domineering touch of The Captain’s conquering thoughts.

“Spirits.” The Captain laughed as T’pol spasmed in her lap, cumming yet again. “What a good greenblood you are, cumming your puny mind to pieces for your mistress.”

“Yuh… yes… mistress.” T’pol drooled, nodding her head as The Captain licked a tear from her eye. “Good… Cum… only… logical.”

“You can barely speak anymore… barely think.” The Captain teased, tasting T’pol’s skin, flicking her tongue over the Vulcan woman’s lips, her cheek, her pointed ear. “Isn’t this so much better than your life before?”

“Yes… mistress.” T’pol sobbed, eyes rolling back as The Captain’s long, long tongue slithered into her mouth and coiled around her own wriggling pink muscle. She quaked and drooled, helpless to resist, as her poor Vulcan pussy was devoured and her mouth was conquered.

The Captain only had to curl a finger, and suddenly Hoshi was straddling T’pol too, hands sinking into her hefty breasts, her quick tongue wrestling with the Vulcan’s. Each of The Captain’s lieutenants took a slathering pussy and made it their own, feasting on their victim’s arousal like a four-course meal, whilst their commanding officer made the final finishing touches to her prey’s addled minds.

By the time Hoshi and T’pol sank to their knees before The Captain it was morning, and neither fuck-drunk slut could remember a time before they had been loving servants for their Lapuzia queen. They clutched at her legs, vying for space at her womanhood to tongue her yellow pussy, hands busy between their own legs to try and fill the void left once the Lapuzia had pulled free.

“Would that I could conquer every last woman on this silly little starship.” The Captain sighed, biting her lip as T’pol pressed flush against her cunt and sank every inch of her Vulcan tongue inside her. “If they all made as good slaves as you, my crew would never complain again.”

T’pol could only gurgle with longing agreement, picturing an orgy of horny human bodies wet with Lapuzi spit, tangled in an eternally fucking mess at her mistress’ heel.

“Such is life, I suppose.” The Captain groaned, grabbing T’pol by her hair and tugging her away from her cunt. The Vulcan whined, tongue still extended, but she made no move to resist as she was pushed back onto her knees beside Hoshi.

“Listen, slaves, hear my words in your ears and know them in your minds.” The Captain smiled, regaining her composure and snapping her fingers to her Lieutenants, who began to dress her as she continued. “My word is law, my touch is bliss, my love is all you crave.

“Y… your word is law, your touch is… is bliss… your love is all we crave.” T’pol and Hoshi moaned shamelessly, a chorus of submission.

“You will forget what we have done together, you will remember only that you were honoured to meet me, and that the Lapuzia are a strong and mighty race deserving your respect.” The captain said softly, toying her fingers through the pair’s dark hair as she spoke. “But you will never forget how you feel in this moment, you will always ache for the pleasure only I can provide you. You will not know why, or even what you crave, but for the rest of your lives you will know deep in your hearts that you are mine.”

“Yours.” T’pol nodded.

“Forever.” Hoshi agreed.

“Once a day, every day, you’ll remember your purpose.” The Captain purred, caressing her drooling thralls’ pretty faces and driving them both into heat until they were practically vibrating with need under her palms. “You will find one another, and you will fuck until you cannot bear to anymore, and then you will provide the footage to me.”

“Yes mistress…” Hoshi and T’pol panted in unison. “Fuck… make p… porn… every day… all the time!”

“And as soon as you can do so without raising suspicion, you will resign from your duties.” The Captain added. “You may contact me then, and I will collect you to join the great harem. You’ll enjoy that, won’t you?”

“Yes mistress!” T’pol nodded eagerly, “Fuck… fuck and cum and suck and breed over and over and over again!” she spread her thighs and began masturbating desperately, panting like a bitch in heat as her hot Vulcan cunny began sloppily dribbling her arousal onto the carpet yet again. Her heaving tits wobbled as she furiously fisted herself, and the Captain couldn’t help but be entranced by those lipstick-marked udders jiggling.

Hoshi giggled too and bounced on her knees, her pert little tits bouncing not quite so impressively as she stared adoringly up at her owner. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes, fuck for mistress, make porn for mistress, live for mistress forever and ever!”

The captain smiled and nodded to her lieutenants, who took one last holoimage of the subjugated pair of space explorers, before leaving the cabin. She hesitated for a moment before following them, admiring the mess she’d made of the poor women and calling out.

“Fuck until you pass out, slaves… and then do clean up your mess.”

The sounds of delighted squealing and sloppy sex immediately serenaded her as she stepped out into the Enterprise corridor, until the door slid shut on T’pol and Hoshi, the two newest additions to the great Lapuzi slave-harem.

Depravity of The Doctor. Chapter Two. BBC Baiting.

IMAGES HERE. 

As The Tardis refuels on the rift at Cardiff, The Doctor and The Mistress go out in search of more exciting fun. Prowling the streets of Los Angeles, the pair of Time-Whores bait a gang of black teenagers into brutally fucking them into oblivion and back.

TW: M/F, F/F, FUTA/F, BBC, Blacked, Violence, Drugs, Mild Racism.

-o-o-o-

“Earth? Really?” The Mistress groaned, scowling at the scanner and pursing her lovely lips. Before her was the cold grey vista of Cardiff Bay in February, not her idea of fun. Of course, her idea of fun these days involved her being choked on three dicks at once whilst seeing how wide her asshole could stretch on a melon-sized buttplug, but still.

It had already been a boring week, relatively speaking. The pair had abandoned the Elysium as soon as Maro’s violent breeding orgy had wound down. Their darling experimental plaything had worked her way through every living creature aboard the ship by the time The Doctor and Missy had gotten tired of popping out eggs and enjoying the dragon’s sloppy seconds. Their favourite experiment was presumably lording over a nation of her draconic sisters and broken human fuck-slaves now, neither Time-lord really cared to check.

They’d bounced around the galaxy for a few days since, enjoying their usual whorish routine with whomever crossed their path until the Tardis had helpfully let them know she needed a refuel by dumping them back on earth with no warning whatsoever.

“I will never understand your fascination with this planet.” The Mistress grunted, tugging herself off The Doctor’s favourite purple dildo and standing up. As always she was nearly naked, when lounging around in the Tardis clothes just got in the way when either woman was horny. A pair of slutty fishnet stockings were squeezing her long legs and a leather dog collar was fastened around her throat, but every inch of skin between was naked and glistening with arousal.

“It’s not so bad.” The Doctor smiled, peering around the crystal column at the core of the Tardis console. “I’ve had a lot of fun here.” She wiggled her eyebrows and returned to tinkering. She was naked too, except for a pair of girly pink socks, and a string of anal beads dangling from her like a tail.

The Mistress sighed and swatted the viewer away, prowling around the console and bumping The Doctor’s hip with her own. “Surely there must be somewhere else in the universe to refuel a Tardis? I never used to have this problem.”

The Doctor shrugged, “Most of the old rifts were sealed during the Time War. With the Daleks and Time-Lords both happy to eradicate entire civilisations for that kind of power, shutting them out seemed sensible. This one is so thin that it wasn’t worth the effort of conquering earth, you can barely charge up one Tardis parked on the damn thing, let alone an armada.”

“Fascinating.” The Mistress sighed, rolling her eyes and reaching an arm around The Doctor’s waist, her hand sneaking towards the blonde’s waiting pussy. “How long is this going to take?”

“Twenty-four hours.” The Doctor smiled, letting out a tiny gasp as The Mistress’ fingers slipped inside her. “T… time to have fun whilst we wait.”

“Fun… even if I grant you that Earth can be fun… this dismal little city is hardly worth our time.” The Mistress rolled her eyes, curling her fingers inside The Doctor and gently squeezing her throat as she breathed into the blonde’s ear. “Take me somewhere nice.”

-o-o-o-

A few hours later, on the other side of the planet, The Doctor and The Mistress sashayed down a sunny Los Angeles street ready for a hard fucking.

Both women looked delicious, squeezed into tight, short pencil skirts and low-cut blouses that their creamy tits threatened to spill out of with every step. Towering stiletto heels clicked on the sun-baked pavements. Black leather and rhinestone handbags dangled from their arms. Pairs of dark, round sunglasses perched on their faces as they made their way through town, chatting loudly and obnoxiously like a pair of a-grade milf karen bitches.

The pair were garnering exactly the kind of attention they adored, lustful glances and stiffening crotches from every man they passed. Eyes stared at the jiggling of their ample titmeat and the fat round swells of their asses as every step threatened to lift their skirts completely. But neither time-whore was interested in any of the humans they passed by, they were on the hunt for something special.

“Oh my gawd.” The Doctor drawled in an exaggerated valley-girl accent, “This town is such a dump, I can’t believe we haven’t found what we’re looking for yet.”

The Mistress pursed her already pouty lips, and then reluctantly copied The Doctor’s accent. “If you told me what we’re looking for, maybe I would’ve found it already.”

“You’ll know it when you see it.” The Doctor grinned, reapplying some thick red lipstick before smacking her lips. “I’ve come here before when I’m in the mood to get totally fucked!”

“You’re always in the mood to fuck.” The Mistress sighed.

“Not like this.” The Doctor purred, holding out her hand and gesturing across the street.

At the entrance to an alleyway and in the shade of a large palm tree, a group of six young black men were standing around talking. The Mistress arched a brow, they didn’t look like much, just normal human teenagers, but as The Doctor marched towards them, hips swaying, she followed anyway.

“Oh my gawd get out of the way, don’t you have, like, jobs you should be doing?” The Doctor moaned obnoxiously, pushing one of the boys out of the way as she strode into the middle of their conversation.

“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?” the boy she’d pushed growled, fronting on her angrily as she stood and pushed her tits out for the group to see. He was easily a head taller than her, well-muscled but clearly not very wealthy. His clothes were poorly fitted and his shoes scuffed, The Mistress would have thought he and his friends were more likely to mug The Doctor than give her a good time.

“Ugh, gross, this homeless loser is totally staring at my boobs!” The Doctor laughed, turning her head to The Mistress who sashayed into the middle of the group and planted her hands on her hips. “It’s, like, just what I was talking about earlier, this area fucking sucks.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” another one of the boys demanded, stepping up as the rest of his friends formed a circle around the bratty white milfs who had barged into the middle of their group. “You don’t talk to my man like that.”

“We’ll talk to you however we like, loser.” The Mistress drawled, poking him with a bright red nail. “You boys can’t just stand around in the middle of the sidewalk all day, people need to get by.”

“Exactly, you guys should totally get lost, get, like, a job or something!” The Doctor agreed, delighted The Mistress was getting in on the act. She gave the boy she’d already pushed another shove, barely being able to move him thanks to how much larger he was than her. “Maybe if you did you’d be able to buy clothes that fit and not look like a raggedy hobo!”

“Listen, Karen.” The boy who was clearly the leader said, his voice low but dripping with menace. “We’re here minding our own business, enjoying our day off, so why don’t you take your skanky ass out of here and leave us be, before any of us does something we’ll regret.”

The Doctor laughed, “Skanky? You wish loser, I bet you and your boys couldn’t get a woman like me if your life depended on it.”

“A bunch of broke dumbasses standing around like idiots.” The Mistress agreed, her cheeks flushing as she felt the breath of one of the boys behind her tickle her neck. She and The Doctor were completely surrounded by the group now, and the more The Doctor riled them up, the more their pants seemed to bulge. “Who would ever want to go out with you?”

“I bet you’re all, like, total virgins.” The Doctor teased, pushing her chest forwards so the lead boy couldn’t help but stare into her deep, pale cleavage. “Cos’ no woman will ever want a loser like you, Nigga.”

That was the final straw. Like a magic word. In an instant the boy grabbed The Doctor by the throat and yanked her off the ground like a doll. Before The Mistress could react, the boy swung The Doctor around and shoved her against the alley wall, one hand on her neck, the other pinning her wrist. A second guy grappled her a second later, snatching her handbag and tossing it aside before forcing her free hand back against the brick wall.

The Mistress shrieked as strong brown hands grabbed her by the waist and forced her forwards, manhandling her into the alley as well and pushing her against the opposite wall to The Doctor. In seconds, rough fingers sank into her soft, sun-warmed tits and shredded her blouse open. Her poor lacy bra withstood the attack, but her left breast bounced free of its cup and was immediately swatted by a punishing palm.

She cried out, cheek mashed against the wall, tongue tasting the rough brick, as more hands grappled her skirt and hiked it up. A sharp smack landed on her bare ass, followed by another, then fingers gripped her by the cheek and forced her legs to spread.

One of the boys took a fistful of her luxurious back locks and pulled it sharply as she squeaked and moaned, tears glittering in her eyes. Fingers pinched and tugged at her nipple, pulling it hard and painfully so powerfully The Mistress worried they might do some permanent damage, as it was, all the boy did was coax an explosive jet of creamy milk from her teat.

More hands crashed against her ass, spanking her again and again as the boy pinning her to the wall explored between her legs with his free hand. The Mistress couldn’t help but mew at his touch, in her fuckbroken state any attention her pussy received was welcome, even when it was rough, angry probing through her lacy black panties.

She could hear the squeals and gasps of The Doctor mingling with her own, but couldn’t turn her head to see. The last glimpse she’d gotten, the blonde was pressed to the wall by her throat, with strong black hands gripping her by the shirt ready to tear her clothes from her body and ravish what lay beneath.

God it made her so wet.

“Stupid… fucking… bitch!” The boy mashing her against the bricks snarled, teeth grating against The Mistress’ cheek as he forced his fingers inside her, pushing her panties along for the ride. “You like this? You like getting your fat ass beat?”

Another one of the boys smacked her ass to punctuate his friend’s point, grabbing her ass and jiggling her tender cheek before slapping her again. The third grabbed her bra and tore it clean from her chest, tossing it aside and bringing both hands up to her breasts. She gasped in pain as her lovely tits were squeezed and pulled, her nipples like diamonds, oozing her milk down her front and over the wall as they grazed the bricks like sandpaper.

The Mistress squeaked as her hair was pulled again, this time hard enough to jerk her head away from the wall before the boy holding her against the bricks slammed her right back against it. Her vision swam and she moaned, pain blossoming across her cheek as the lead boy continued to fingerfuck her.

Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

“Shoulda minded your own business skank!” the boy growled in her ear, as his thick, hot brown cock stabbed against her blushing ass. “You think you can fuck around with us and there’ll be no consequences?”

The Mistress could only squeal in response, as the boy yanked her panties to one side and rammed himself into her sopping hole.

“Fucking cracker bitch.” He grunted, one elbow pinning her back to the wall, his free hand yanking her hips back against him as he began to thrust. For a human, his cock was fucking big, stretching The Mistress out almost as much as an Ogron.

She moaned and drooled helplessly, listening as the clap, clap, clapping of her ass on black cock joined the whimpers of pain and pleasure echoing from The Doctor’s side of the alley.

“Is the bitch as tight as she looks?” One of the boys asked the one pounding her.

“Man, her phat ass is swallowing me up like she’s starving.” He growled in reply. “Bet that’s why the bitches came over trying to start a fight. Pair of fucked up rapebaiting karens just couldn’t help themselves.”

He was completely right, of course, but even if she hadn’t been kissing bricks and drooling down her chin, The Mistress would never have told him so. As black hands squeezed and smacked her tits, pulled her hair, and kept her helpless at their owner’s mercy, all The Mistress could do was enjoy the ride.

Across the alley, The Doctor was on her ass. Her shirt had been ripped open, her tits yanked free and enjoyed by two of the black boys ravaging her. Her eyes were teary and bloodshot from being choked, and her skirt was pulled down around her ankles, showing off the soaking mess of her panties still clinging to her cunt. A vicious punch to the stomach had sent her sprawling to the ground, then one of the boys had yanked her back up by her golden hair, and was holding her in place whilst the leader of the group gagged her on his fat black cock.

“Gluck gluck gluck.” Was about the only sound coming from the blonde now, apart from the occasional wet wheezing breaths and bubbling gags. Spit and slime was oozing down her chin as the was facefucked. Bubbles of precum and saliva grew and popped around her lips as she opened her throat and accepted her pounding.

Secure in the grip of the third teenager, her hands jerked and shook with delight as her tonsils were beaten by brown dick. Her legs trembled and kicked, not trying to escape, but to get a purchase so she could force her face further down her attacker’s shaft.

“Sloppy cunt!” the boy raping her gullet hissed, smacking her across the face with his cock before shutting her up again. “You think you’re better than us? Cos you can afford nice clothes and an expensive handbag and whatever the fuck else you want? You’re nothing, just another needy bitch needing to get put in her fucking place!”

The Doctor gurgled in agreement, lips sucking and smacking around the boy’s cock as it sawed in and out of her face hard enough to make her brain rattle. Her head knocked against the wall with every thrust, she was going to have such a headache once he finished with her.

Her bare ass scraped against the ground, pebbles and dirt and garbage sticking to her sweaty skin as she squirmed and gurgled. Her oxygen-deprived mind wandered back to the last time she’d felt so filthy, when she’d lain beside Yaz in the gutter, covered in cum, sweat, booze and all the garbage of another alley just like this. They’d looked like they’d been dragged through a landfill, pregnant bimbo bodies sticky and grimy, their hair tangled with sperm, their breath reeking of beer and spunk.

Suddenly getting throatfucked like a cheap bitch didn’t feel so good anymore. Suddenly The Doctor was angry, and she did what she always did when she felt angry: got someone to fuck her stupid until she forgot all about it.

The boy in her throat snarled as The Doctor began to squirm and kick, thrashing about to try and escape he and his friend’s grasp. “Quit it bitch!”

A sharp smack across her face made The Doctor moan with need, but she didn’t stop struggling. Her mouth was abruptly vacated, leaving her gasping and choking wetly, before she was punched again and sent sprawling.

The next thing she knew she was knelt on the ground, a boot on her head and a cock in her cunt. She groaned and drooled weakly, feeling as her ass was bounced on the boy’s dick. In her new position she could see The Mistress, and it looked like she was having just as much fun.

The dark haired time-whore was now clutched in one of the boy’s arms, bent forwards as he fucked her hatefully, one hand on her ass, the other gripping her hair like a leash. A second boy had his hands around her throat, choking her as he fucked her sloppy mouth with his own big black cock. The Mistress’ tits were red and raw, bouncing and dangling beneath her as she was rocked between the boys, spit and sperm were dribbling out of her stuffed lips.

As The Doctor watched, both boy groaned in unison and slammed their hips forwards, sandwiching The Mistress between them. The Doctor didn’t need to be a genius to tell the pair had just blown their loads into her best friend’s eager holes, but it helped. The Mistress trembled and moaned, lashes fluttering as tears rolled down her blushing cheeks, and a trickle of quim made its way down her leg.

Just moments later the boot pressing The Doctor shook and ground her down harder as her own jet of hot thick cum splattered her womb. She sighed happily, savouring the feeling as the shoe pressing into her cheek lifted off her and she was allowed to roll onto her side.

“Fucking bitches!” The lead teenager spat, a thick wad of saliva landing on The Doctor’s face as The Mistress collapsed beside her. “Stupid… cracker… sluts!”

The Doctor hummed approvingly, watching as The Mistress petted her sloppy holes and pushed herself up on one elbow. They met eyes with unspoken understanding before The Mistress smiled up to the lead boy and said in her most honeyed voice: “Take us home, boys… and punish us more.”

-o-o-o-

The Doctor had always thought The Mistress’ hypnosis was a bit lame. Even when they had been at the academy, he had taken himself so seriously. Hypnosis was a party trick, and yet The Master had always talked about it like the greatest superpower in the universe. It hadn’t helped him conquer the universe of course, hence The Doctor’s low opinion of it, but as she lay on a stained mattress with cum slathering her tits, she was starting to come around.

Of course, their fun wasn’t solely because The Mistress had influenced the boys to keep brutally fucking them like worthless sacks of meat over and over and over again, The Doctor deserved a little credit too. Before leaving The Tardis she’d doused herself with a liberal amount of a pheromone perfume that would have any mortal man fighting tooth and nail to breed her after just a quick whiff. That was why their latest playmates had so quickly sunk their hands, teeth, and cocks into them once they’d been riled up… as a test run of her latest invention, The Doctor couldn’t have been happier with the results.

She and The Mistress had been the helpless rapedolls of the boys for the whole weekend, being fucked, beaten, degraded and bred over and over until they were seeing stars. It seemed there were about a dozen in their little gang, young black boys who preferred hanging around an abandoned corner shop to being at home. The Doctor was just fine with that, it meant they spent more time with her.

She sat up with a giggle, taking hold of the two thick black cocks that had just exploded over her breasts and stroking them lovingly. “Fuck boys… feed me those nigga dicks.” She crooned, receiving a sharp slap to the cheek in reply.

“What did I tell you about fucking talking!?” the older of the two boys she’d been enjoying the abuse of growled, taking hold of her hair and yanking her face against his sticky cock. “You open your mouth it best be for sucking my dick. No-one gives a crap about what some dumbass karen’s got to say!”

The Doctor moaned in agreement and started sucking up the cum that hadn’t escaped his fat brown pole. After months away from earth whoring to all manner of aliens, there was something oddly nice about coming back to earth and getting brutalised by big black cock.

Across the room a threadbare door crashed open and The Mistress tumbled through, landing in a heap on the floor with a grunt. She was naked and sweaty, with cum and tears staining her cheeks, on one plump, round asscheek a fresh tattoo was burning: a black spade with a Q in the middle.

One of the boys appeared and spanked her harshly on the tender mark, making the dark haired cumslut squeal like a pig. A moment later she was snatched up by the hair and dragged to The Doctor. “Clean up that mess, bitch!”

The Mistress moaned and dived into The Doctor’s cleavage, slobbering and lapping up the thick young seed painted over her tits.

The boys enjoyed the show of their pet white milfs kissing and licking over one another, but predictably they weren’t content with just watching for long. After maybe a minute The Mistress’ hips were yanked up and she was rammed full of thick brown dickmeat, and before The Doctor even had the chance to feel jealous, she was given the same treatment.

Hands closed around The Doctor’s throat as she was stuffed, squeezing tighter and tighter until she could feel herself beginning to pass out. Knowing that the boys would just keep abusing her once she was unconscious only made her wetter, and she eagerly began to match the boy’s thrusts with her hips.

Just a few inches away The Mistress was on her back, legs curled around a burly black body, her wrists pinned above her head as she was pounded. The boy working out his frustrations on her perfect pink pussy growled and bit down on her nipple, drawing a shrill whine from the Time-whore.

The sound of The Doctor and The Mistress hard at work quickly drew the attention of the other boys, and soon the Time-whores were once again at the centre of a circle of angry young men eager to sink their dicks into helpless white cunt.

“Ay Damien, these bitches look tired out.” One boy called out as The Doctor loosely flopped around in the grasp of her current playmate, barely clinging onto consciousness. “How bout’ we give them a pick me up?”

“Seems a waste.” Damien, a tall, well-built Dominican boy with a shaved head hummed, reaching into his jeans and producing a small baggie of white powder. “But I like seeing these cracker bitches awake when I beat their phat asses.”

His cock was already hard and wet thanks to The Doctor’s slobbering attention, so all he needed to do was reach down and sprinkle a thick line of white crystals over his throbbing dick. He laughed and tossed the baggie to another boy, before advancing on The Doctor and pulling her face up to meet his cock. “Here ya go bitch, I know you’re already addicted to black dick, but this’ll seal the deal.”

Without another word, he shoved his cock down The Doctor’s throat. Instinctively the blonde began slurping and gagging, bobbing her head as much as she could with her neck being crushed. She moaned happily after a few moments and began jerking her face up and down Damien’s cock faster, her pupils dilated like dinner plates.

“I think she likes it!” Damien jeered, grabbing a fistful of The Doctor’s hair and facefucking her harder, feeding every last trace of the powder into her greedy maw. “Give the other bratty skank a taste!”

The Mistress gurgled weakly under the assault of the boy pounding her down into the ground, but her eyes lit up when not one but two thick BBCs were dangled over her face. Without needing any encouragement she craned her neck and began to kiss, lick, slobber and suck every last inch of them, including the remains of the baggie. She giggled maniacally, suddenly energised, and began furiously jerking off both boys into her open mouth, her tongue swirling between their heads, hungry for more hot teenaged spunk.

Neither Time-whore was able to keep track of much after that. They fucked and sucked for what might have been seconds, or might have been weeks, high as kites and quickly covered with jizz, spit, and marker pen as the boys set to work making sure anyone could tell exactly what kind of women they were on sight.

It was only as The Doctor began to come down from her high, nursing a headache as much from the hangover as it was from the boys slapping her and pulling her hair, that something noteworthy happened.

“Ay Damien! Lashawna’s here!” one of the boys called out, appearing from one of the side rooms and hurriedly pulling up his pants.

Damien didn’t seem pleased by that, pausing with The Doctor’s face buried on his dick so long she almost passed out again. “What does she want?”

“Who knows, she’s fucking coming in!” the boy who had rushed in yelped, not wasting any time in dashing for the back door and disappearing, along with most of the others.

Damien tugged The Doctor off his cock and tossed her to the floor, quickly yanking up his own pants just as an older black woman marched into the room. She was a beauty, maybe in her mid-thirties, with rich curly black hair and caramel skin. Every inch of flesh not covered by her white tank top or her tight blue jeans was covered in tattoos. She looked mean, The Doctor wanted this Lashawna to beat her up immediately, or rape her silly, or both at the same time.

“Hey, Lashawna, we wasn’t expecting you.” Damien said cautiously, glancing down at The Doctor as she moaned and sat up, scooping some stray cum into her mouth with a giggle. “What’s up?”

“Heard you grabbed a pair of white bitches off the street.” Lashawna purred, walking forward slowly and taking in the state of the two Time-whores groaning and oozing at Damien and his remaining boys’ feet. “Started whoring them out to the local boys? Course I told them that would be ridiculous, cos Damien ain’t so stupid as to forget that every pimp this side of town pays me a cut.”

“Course not, Lashawna.” Damien scowled, “We’re not pimping these karens out. We just invited a few friends over for a party, you know? Enjoy the bitches, grab a few drinks… nothing to step on your toes.”

Lashawna didn’t seem impressed. She walked past Damien and grabbed The Mistress by her hair, pulling her up onto her knees to an accompanying whimper of pained arousal. “I guess not… not technically. I hate that word by the way, it means people are trying to be clever, trying to screw their brothers and sisters over without them knowing. Like cowards, I don’t like cowards either.”

“It’s like I said, Lashawna, these two are for me and my boys… we weren’t even gonna keep them.” Damien said firmly, snatching a fistful of The Doctor’s hair and pulling her up to her feet too, keeping the addled blonde between him and Lashawna as the older woman dragged The Mistress around in a circle.

“Just you and the boys.” Lashawna repeated softly. “Just a private party.”

“That’s right.”

“And I didn’t get an invite.” Lashawna tutted, hauling The Mistress up to her feet and squeezing her tits. “That’s hurtful, man, real hurtful.”

“Tell you what Lashawna, you and me have done good work in the past. How about you keep these bitches for yourself. We were just gonna dump them out on Peterson street for the hobos to enjoy, but I reckon you’ll make better use of them, yeah?”

Lashawna smiled. “Reckon I would, yeah.” She thrust The Mistress forward and sent her crashing against The Doctor, both fuck-drunk sluts collided heavily and sank to the ground in a tangle of limbs, moaning and whining all the while. “A good faith gesture, then. I’ll take your karens off your hands, and forget this whole thing happened.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Damien nodded, clearly relieved and already backing towards the door, until Lashawna held up a finger and grappled The Doctor by the scruff of the neck.

“You ain’t leaving until I’ve sampled the merchandise, boy… take your pants of, we’ll seal this little deal the fun way.” She purred, tossing the blonde onto the mattress and pulling down her jeans.

The Doctor cooed as Lashawna revealed her cock, a throbbing foot of ebony she-meat, and raised her ass in anticipation. Across the room, Damien dragged The Mistress over and threw her down onto her back as well, pushing between her legs and prodding her winking asshole with his cock.

As both Time-whores were treated to a vicious ass-stretching curtesy of big black cocks, a few thousand miles away a large blue box let out a satisfied rumble, and began to dematerialise to retrieve what was left of its pilots.

Choices

Commander Jane Shepard wakes up in a cell on Omega and is given a simple choice: which of the two identical asari in front of her does she want to breed?
Choose one or the other, cum inside, and she'll win her freedom, but there's a catch. One of the two blue beauties is Morinth, a deadly Ardat-Yakshi who will kill anyone who mates with her.

Choose wisely.

Set made by the wonderful Dinoboy to accompany Omegan Roulette! 

Communication

Result of the January poll.

Hoshi Sato is hard at work translating an alien language to help with First Contact, but the aliens have their own way of bridging the language gap...

-o-o-o-

Another day, another first contact.

That was the best thing about being aboard the Enterprise. Everywhere they went they discovered something new, something no human being had ever encountered or even imagined. New planets, new people, new strange scientific phenomena that people back on earth would spend decades trying to wrap their heads around.

Whatever doubts Hoshi Sato had held about leaving her teaching post in Brazil for her position on Earth’s first warp-5 starship had long since vanished, and days like this were exactly why.

She was standing in the shuttle bay. Captain Archer was at the front of their party, T’pol just beside him, and Trip behind them next to her. About an hour ago they’d stumbled across another starship and contacted them to say hello, now The Captain of the ship was coming aboard to meet them all, and Hoshi had the honour of translating.

The Lapuzia seemed to be a friendly, humanoid people with pale yellow-green skin, large black eyes, and a cobra-like hood rather than hair that shimmered and shifted colours like a chameleon. They were by far the most exciting looking aliens the Enterprise had come across, and their language had been just as fun for Hoshi to untangle too.

For whatever reason the usual translators just couldn’t get a lock on the Lapuzian language, so Hoshi had been using all of her skills to act as intermediary between Archer and the Lapuzia Captain. She’d managed to get enough of a handle on the basics for a casual conversation, but once The Captain stepped on board she would need to bring her A game to make sure no diplomatic disasters popped up.

The Lapuzia shuttle let out a soft noise almost like a sigh as it opened and three Lapuzia climbed out. They were taller than Hoshi had realised from just a viewscreen, the shortest among them still over six feet. They were slender and a little gangly, like they had all been women of human stature who had been stretched up to their colossal height, but Hoshi couldn’t deny they were beautiful, especially in the skin-tight clothes that clung to their bodies like they had been painted on.

“Ashwalda, abrigan Archer kos.” The lead Lapuzi smiled, bowing her head and twirling her wrists in an odd salute.

“Greetings, Captain Archer.” Hoshi translated, checking the vocabulary guide she’d drafted up during their first conversation.

“Greetings, on behalf of Starfleet, welcome to the Enterprise.” Archer smiled, mirroring the bow before straightening up and beginning to introduce the rest of them. Hoshi translated as best she could, the Lapuzi smiling and chuckling once or twice as she made mistakes, but once Archer had introduced Trip and T’pol it became clear that she was their focus. Trip and T’pol received little beyond a smile and a nod when they were introduced, but as Archer gestured to her and explained her role, the face of The Captain lit up.

“Ah, ginsal Hoshi Lin, magdra tolun tanasi. Covu gliln atrichuc?”

Archer looked at her expectantly and Hoshi forced a nervous smile, trying to piece together what had been said.

“Um, she said ‘thank you, Ensign Hoshi, you honour us in our tongue. May we establish…” She frowned and shrugged awkwardly, “I’m not sure what the last word is, maybe ‘dialogue’ or ‘link’ or ‘understanding?’”

“Sounds like they have their own method of translation.” Archer said, “Go ahead.”

Hoshi nodded and glanced at her notes. “Um… ginsal, Lapuzia Lin, Sal glin atrichuc, moji.”

The Captain smiled, stepped forwards, grabbed Hoshi by the back of her head and pulled her into the most amazing kiss of her life.

“Mh!” Hoshi squeaked, eyes wide as suddenly the Lapuzia Captain was pressed against her front, tilting her head upwards to meet her own. Her tongue was hot and wet and sweet, and seemed to wrap around Hoshi’s own twice over as their lips met. Stars danced in front of her eyes and she trembled from head to toe, a cocktail of conflicting emotions rolling through her. Shock, fear, indignance, lust, delight, arousal, embarrassment.

Then the kiss was over and Hoshi stumbled back, panting for breath. The Captain’s lipstick was smeared over her lips, a bright blue mark no-one could mistake.

“My thanks, Ensign Hoshi.” The Captain smiled cheerfully. “Your understanding of our language after such a short time of study is impressive, but this will make things far smoother for us all.”

Hoshi blinked, stunned by more than just The Captain’s perfect English. She vaguely recognised that both Trip and T’pol’s hands had gone to their phase pistols when The Captain had kissed her.

She cleared her throat and tried to wipe the lipstick mark off her face. “O… of course… you’re welcome.” Her voice was a small, timid squeak that only made her even more embarrassed as her crewmates stared at her. “Um… h… how did that w… work?”

“Our people have limited psychic abilities.” The Captain smiled, “With one another, physical contact is enough to establish a communion, but we’ve found that with outside species, we must lower their mental defences to be able to properly exchange information. Surprise is enough in most cases, and intimate contact is much less threatening than other ways we could surprise those we wish to speak with.”

“I see.” Archer said, a little stiffly. “For us that kind of contact is a little invasive.”

“Of course, I humbly apologise.” The Captain bowed her head, “But again, we thought it less threatening than an attack.”

“You don’t say.” Trip said dryly.

“I’m… I’m alright Captain.” Hoshi mumbled, cheeks burning.

“I’m afraid only a rudimentary language exchange was possible with such brief contact.” The Captain said, “Perhaps, if Ensign Hoshi were willing, a longer communion could be performed. It would allow a deeper exchange of cultural and historical information, we’ve found it very effective for expanding our understandings of other species and making diplomatic meetings far more convenient.”

“How efficient.” T’pol sighed.

“I don’t think…” Archer began, but Hoshi interrupted him before realising what she was actually saying.

“I’d be willing!” she agreed eagerly, before flushing deeply and avoiding Archer’s eyes. “Um, with your permission, Captain. I think it could help us understand one another, just like The Captain says.”

Archer looked at her, surprised. T’pol wore her usual vaguely disapproving stare, and Trip was trying not to laugh, but eventually Archer nodded. “I trust your judgement, Ensign. So long as this is just an exchange, as you’ve described. Why don’t we reconvene for dinner in The Captain’s dining room in an hour?”

“That sounds most agreeable, Captain Archer.” The Lapuzia captain smiled, “I look forward to speaking with you.”

-o-o-o-

“N… no.” Hoshi sobbed, not ten minutes later, “Please… it’s too… too much.”

The instant the doors to her cabin had slid closed all three Lapuzia had pounced on her, shredding her uniform and throwing her down onto her bed. All of their smiles and charm had vanished as they revealed themselves to be nothing more than hungry predators, and Hoshi their helpless prey.

One Lapuzia had her ankles in a death grip, spreading her legs wide and lifting her hips up off the bed to meet her face. A long, pointed, prehensile tongue was wriggling and coiling from the grinning Lapuzia’s lips, stabbing down into Hoshi’s virgin asshole and burrowing deep inside her.

A second alien was straddling Hoshi’s chest, her tight rump wiggling right in front of the powerless ensign’s face as the Lapuzia forced her own foot-long tongue into Hoshi’s sopping pussy. Two pairs of blue-painted lips, kissed at Hoshi’s flesh as they nuzzled tight against her pussy and ass, their tongues ravishing her holes with wet, greedy motions. Lipstick smeared over her crotch as the Lapuzia devoured her, tingling against her skin as it stained her.

The Lapuzia Captain was holding Hoshi’s wrists over her head, crouching over the squirming linguist and giving her a taste of her own ‘mother tongue.’ The little human was a delight, tiny and helpless and delicious. Tasting new species was always fun, a literal world of flavour completely different from all the ones she’d tasted before, but Hoshi was even more delectable than most.

Lapuzia didn’t just have some of the longest tongues in the quadrant, they were also by far the most sensitive. The Captain could taste what Hoshi had eaten for breakfast the previous week, exactly how much toothpaste she’d used that morning, even the ph. of the water she’d drunk on the bridge.

Using her tongue to sneak into the human girl’s mind and steal her secrets? That was even easier.

The Captain purred a she tangled her prehensile snake of a tongue with Hoshi’s cute little muscle, drinking in the taste of her victim as she mined the little human bitch for information. Her lips smacked and smeared more psychoactive resin over Hoshi’s panting mouth, drugging the linguist into an orgasmic trance and opening up her psyche for The Captain to explore.

“F… fuck… m… my head feels so… fuzzy.” Hoshi whined as The Captain took a moment to re-apply her lipstick before attacking her again. “Please… l… let me go.”

The Captain silenced her and resumed her work, enjoying the needy whimpers and groans the human made as she was kissed into oblivion and back.

Humanity was a fascinating little species, The Captain thought, filing through Hoshi’s memories as her crew tonguefucked the girl’s holes in well-practiced harmony. The Human race had barely set foot off their tiny planet and already they were proving themselves to be a force to be reckoned with. They’d made enemies with the Suliban, thoroughly humiliated the Vulcans, made tenuous but important alliances with the Andorians and Klingons. Yes. These humans were a species to watch out for, and thanks to Hoshi, the Lapuzia could sell their secrets to all of the enemies they’d already made for a fortune!

The Captain laughed and licked over Hoshi’s blushing cheek as the human squealed and drowned her sister’s tongues in her quim. “So many delicious secrets, Hoshi Sato. Almost as delectable as you are.” She grinned and forced another kiss onto Hoshi, releasing her wrists to clutch her by the scalp and push deeply against her sloppy lips.

Hoshi’s eyes rolled in her head, her hips bucking against the fantastic tongues exploring every inch of her most sensitive spots. She just couldn’t stop cumming, and every time she did she could feel how the Lapuzia snuck into her brain and stole her secrets. God, this was going to be the biggest disaster in human history! All of Starfleet’s knowledge, all the protocols and practices, stolen away to be sold to the highest bidder, and all Hoshi could do was moan and tremble and cum her pathetic brains out whilst it happened!

A tongue flicked her clit and sent a shockwave of bliss through her system. The security codes for the Enterprise were plucked from her memory.

Lips pressed flush against her asshole, forcing another tongue deep into her guts. The names and locations of every ship in Starfleet slipped from her mind.

Wet, warm spit flooded her mouth as more and more drugged lipstick was painted onto her skin. Everywhere The Enterprise had ever been and everything it had ever done was stolen and filed away for later.

Hoshi came again, legs kicking and chest heaving. All around her the Lapuzia laughed, stroking and squeezing and slapping her naked body as it lay helpless in their grasp. Tongues slithered from her conquered holes as she panted and quaked, beginning to slather her sweat-licked flesh, savouring the flavour of their conquest.

As her crew began pulling out a fresh uniform for Hoshi, the Lapuzia captain cradled the drooling ensign in her lap and gently pressed her tongue between her gasping lips one last time.

“Thank you, Hoshi.” She whispered into the poor human’s mind, “You’ve been very helpful.”

The Captain recoiled her tongue and let Hoshi flop onto the bed, the memories of their encounter completely erased as she lay stewing in an orgasmic haze.

After a few minutes consciousness returned.

Hoshi sat up blushing furiously, blue lipstick marks covering her entire body from head to toe, the taste of some exotic spice lingering on her tongue.

The Lapuzia captain sat perched on the edge of her bed, innocently re-applying her lipstick. She smiled as Hoshi gasped and began hurriedly re-dressing, savouring the taste of the secrets she’d stolen.

“Shall we join your captain for dinner then, Ensign Sato?”

“Y… yes!” Hoshi nodded, face as brightly red as the lipstick still marking her was blue.

As she made another futile attempt to wipe herself down and ran for the door, the Lapuzia captain smiled and followed, wondering what secrets that lovely Vulcan woman might be hiding under her suit.

Depravity of The Doctor. Chapter One. Origin of a Species.

A sequel to

Timefucked: A Noble Legacy

"My my my." The Empress of Time purred, peering into the Eternity Fractal as she enjoyed a lazy Sunday evening with a gaggle of twerking sluts clapping their cheeks for her entertainment.

The Mistress was off somewhere enjoying herself and she'd sent Jenny and Luxuria away to conquer an Earth to keep them busy whilst she relaxed. It wasn't often The Empress found herself in the mood to do that without a hard dick or a wet pussy these days, but that didn't mean her depravity took a backseat by any means.

Having all of the multiverse's porn at her fingertips had been fun for a few weeks, but recently she'd been enjoying scanning the other lives of other Doctors to find fresh worlds and fresh meat to conquer.

"What is it g... goddess?" one of her jiggling buttsluts moaned, one of her Osgoods, who was crouched down smacking her dumptruck down onto the black marble floor of the throne room.

"I think I've just found my next plaything." The Empress grinned, admiring the tall, pretty young black girl who the Fractal had focussed on. "Oh Susan?"

Her call echoed off the walls of the palace and just moments later Susan Foreman appeared, beaming as she hurried to her Grandfather's side. The Empress smiled back, kissing her very first companion on the cheek and petting her pregnant belly where her first great-grandchild was growing.

"Would you be a darling and go kidnap a new toy for me?" The Empress asked sweetly.

"Of course, Grandfather." Susan grinned, her smile morphing from delight at being summoned into wicked, lustful glee. "Who do you want?"

"Bring me Rose Noble." The Empress sighed, curling a finger and summoning one of her slaves to her.  "You know how much I love collecting the whole set." The redhead who had been braced against a pillar clapping her cheeks like a woman possessed moaned and knelt to kiss the Empress' feet, a mindless shadow of the fiery woman she had once been.

"I love family reunions." Susan said with an evil smile, before darting away, impatient to kidnap and corrupt a new prize for her beloved grandfather. The Empress cackled and watched her go, before guiding Donna Noble's face down to her cunt.

This piece was made by the wonderful BecSantus, as a bonus to thank you all for your support.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Timefucked: The Latest Acquisition

The Empress chuckled to herself as she peered into the Eternity Fractal, watching an alternate version of herself flying off with a new friend. Ordinarily she found watching her other selves unbelievably dull, across the multiverse Doctors were so often over-moralistic prudes, but they all had the same eye for pretty women she did.

"See something funny?" The Mistress asked, arching a brow as her dainty hand stroked up and down The Empress' throbbing erection, nuzzling up against her shoulder to peer into the fractal. "Hm, I don't recognise that face."

The Empress smiled and stroked a hand over her bride's plump udder down to her full, pregnant belly. "He would have come two regenerations after this face." She explained, "I like him, he has more of a sense of fun than most."

"He's still a Doctor, you're all insufferable." The Mistress cooed, pressing a kiss to The Empress' lips before ducking her head down to her cock and sinking down onto it.

The Empress laughed and enjoyed her queen's mouth for a few moments before snapping her fingers.

Luxuria appeared out of the darkness and draped herself over The Empress' shoulder, kissing her father's cheek and glancing at the Fractal. "Yes, daddy?"

"How would you like to go on a little Christmas mission, love?"

"Who am I collecting?"

The Empress' lip curled. "Bring me Ruby Sunday."

-o-o-o-

Ruby Sunday moaned shamelessly as the colossal, faceless, brown skinned man who had been ploughing her senseless for the past hour finally blew his load deep into her womb. His thrusts slowed and she was finally given a moment to breathe, panting and drooling as cum oozed out of her conquered pussy.

A cruel laughter echoed off the inside of her mind as her eyes landed on a strange, beautiful blonde woman lounging on a throne just a little way away. She seemed familiar somehow, as if Ruby had met her before, and the longer she stared at the grinning blonde, the more intense the feeling grew.

She wanted to make that woman happy, she wanted to make her proud... she wanted to make her cum!

Ruby groaned suddenly as the creature holding her thrust up into her virgin asshole, fucking her stupid as she stared into the eyes of her empress.

"G... Goddess be praised!" she managed to gasp, smiling with mindless delight as she began to bounce hungrily back against the golem.

The Empress laughed approvingly, and stroked her cock to the latest addition to her collection.

This piece was made by the wonderful BecSantus, as a bonus to thank you all for your support.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Timefucked: Madame Of The Harem

Vastra sighed happily as she awoke in the vast, dark chamber that was her home. The cloisters were ringing with the sound of sex, the heated stone of her bed radiated against her naked scales, and the hot, wet mouth of Jenny Flint slobbered up and down her throbbing morning wood.

All in all, it was a perfect morning.

She hissed softly through her teeth, green fingers raking through Jenny's dark hair as she savoured the sensation of her favourite maidwife's throat.

"Goddess be praised." she moaned softly as her eyes fluttered open at last.

In an instant Jenny gurgled and pulled back as well, panting for breath and drooling onto her heaving chest as she echoed, "Goddess be praised."

Across the room the chant was repeated, first by one voice and then by another and another. Vastra bared her fangs approvingly, drinking in the sight of her playthings as they moaned and praised their beloved overlord.

"Your breakfast, ma'am." Jenny simpered, appearing at Vastra's shoulder with a plate bearing a raw steak and a rich flute of deep red-black liquid. It was remarkable, given that the Jenny who had woken up Vastra with her excellent blowjob technique was still bobbing away between her legs.

In fact, over a dozen Jenny Flints were scattered throughout the chamber, all identical and dressed in perverted maid's outfits, indistinguishable from one another except for the embroidered number on their aprons. The one currently throating her fat lizard cock was Jenny fourteen.

There were others too, a pair of Clara Oswalds currently swapping spit with one another and Jenny number seven, as well as a River Song, grinning as she bounced her colossal ass back against Jenny number four's strap.

The Empress had collected many temporal duplicates to fill her cloister menagerie. Old friends taken from multiple points in their timelines to fuck and suck their lives away for her amusement. The dark halls and tunnels were packed with women who shared names, faces and histories, but thanks to The Empress they lived in perpetual harmony, lustful and mad and concerned only with their basest needs.

Vastra was no exception, somewhere another one of her and another Jenny were locked in eternal passion in the Empress' private collection. Another shared a den with sister Silurians Restac and Alaya, single-handedly breeding a nation of Silurian slaves to fill The Empress' armies. There were probably more, but she hadn't encountered them yet, she was busy with her own purpose.

Unlike the thousands other sluts that called the cloisters home, she had a mission, a holy duty given to her by The Empress herself: Keep the swarms of sluts in the cloisters from running amok, never let them forget who owns them.

It was a duty Vastra relished.

As she blew her load over Jenny fourteen's face and watched Jennies Nine and Two lick up the mess, she snapped her fingers and called out with an imperious tone.

"Bring me my uniform."

In moments her Jennies had scurried to her feet and slid her lithe green body into luxurious black leather. she smiled down at her doe-eyed maidwives and licked her lips with a forked tongue.

"Good Apes." she purred, cracking her favourite whip and wondering which of the many, many whores to visit first for a little 'discipline.'

Goddess be praised.

This piece was made by the wonderful BecSantus, as a bonus to thank you all for your support.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Depravity Of The Doctor: The Empress of Time

Her evil plans complete and her eternal dynasty established, The Doctor begins her twisted reign over creation as The Empress of Time. With The Mistress as her bride and their daughters and granddaughter loyally serving as generals, The Doctor becomes the ultimate lifeform, able to twist reality itself to her depraved whims. No one who has ever lived or ever will is safe from The Doctor's perversions, and no one is left to stand against her.

Praise be to the eternal empress, the time-whore victorious, the slut-queen of Gallifrey: The Doctor!

This piece was done by the wonderful Loreleia as the final part of a 12-image series that will accompany This story.

Timefucked: Mercy of The Doctor

The dungeons of Gallifrey echoed with the sound of moans, sobs and screams of pain and pleasure alike. The once sacred cloisters now ringing only with the cries of mindless breeders, pleasure-mad studs and the few remaining sentient creatures left who had not yet succumbed to the mind-melting influence of the Empress' corruption.

The Time-Lords had fallen, the universe would soon follow.

The Doctor struggled desperately against the immovable grasp of the naked woman dragging her through the perverted ruins of her homeland. Her short blonde hair whipped about as she thrashed, her odd, baggy ensemble dishevelled from her struggling and the groping hands of her former brother and sister time-lords.

"Get your hands off me!" she snarled, fury mixing with misery as she saw what her people had become, not to mention terror as so many eyes roamed her body, eager to add her to the stable of sluts that now called the citadel home.

Just moments ago she'd been clambering up a rocky bluff, hearts swelling with relief as she saw her beloved Tardis rematerialize in front of her. She'd managed to drag her friends through a hellish death-trap of a planet and as she'd stepped through the doors she thought she was finally safe. Instead, she'd tumbled not into her Tardis, but into an orgy of former Time-Lords transformed into ravenous, mindless sex fiends.

Getting yanked free of the grasping hands and slathering tongues by the guards hadn't mad her feel better at all, not with how they giggled to one another and how their monstrous, unnatural cocks throbbed and drooled between their thighs.

"Who did this to you? Who's in charge!?" The Doctor demanded, yelping as she was thrown ass-over-teakettle through another door, her light grey coat flipping over her head as she landed on the cold black tile.

She growled and threw her coat out of her face and sprang to her feet just in time for the doors to slam shut in her face. In an instant she had her sonic in hand, buzzing it uselessly against the sheer obsidian doors of her cell.

"Tell me who did this! Was it The Master? The Toymaker? Omega!?" she shouted, slamming her fists on the stone. "Who did this to my people?"

"D... Doctor?"

The blonde spun around, staring into the dark cell and gasping as she saw the scene before her.

Yaz was kneeling on a mountain of pillows and blankets, her smooth brown body naked from head to toe. Her eyes widened as she saw her friend and, without a moment's hesitation, leapt forwards.

She scrambled awkwardly over the soft nest, bounding on all fours for a few steps before throwing herself into The Doctor's arms. "Doctor!"

"Y... Yaz!?" The Doctor gasped as the young human nuzzled against her shoulder, stunned at seeing her friend on Gallifrey, let alone naked and so... beautiful.

"Forgive me." Yaz moaned, clutching The Doctor by her cheeks, still pressed tight to her front. "Please Doctor, I'll be good. I'm sorry. I'm a good girl!"

"Yaz what happened to you?" The Doctor croaked, trying to calm the hysterical Pakistani beauty down as she babbled and squeezed her tight. "Hey... hey you're ok, you're alright I'm here, it's going to be alright."

"You... forgive me?"

The Doctor smiled weakly and brushed some silky hair out of Yaz's face. "Yeah, yeah of course I forgive you, now let's get you some clo... mfff!"

No sooner had the words 'I forgive you' left The Doctor's lips, Yaz lunged forwards, fingers tangling in her hair, and kissed her with all the passion and love in the universe.

The Doctor gasped into Yaz's mouth, hands flailing as her newest companion's tongue met hers in a warm, wet dance. She tasted amazing and felt even better. The longer Yaz  spent pressed against her, the harder it was to think about anything other than how soft her lips were, how warm her breasts felt pressed against her, ever touch and taste and scent of her body.

"Yasmin... " The Doctor breathed as the kiss broke, following entranced as the human girl took her hand and pulled her down onto the pile of pillows. "What... what was i doing? There was... something important. I was..."

"I love you, Doctor." Yaz smiled, kissing the frowning blonde over and over again until at last she smiled and kissed her back. "I love you more than anything."

"I love you too." The Doctor sighed, gasping as Yaz's hands roamed under her shirt and explored her soft, fat breasts.

As she pulled her coat and shirt off, adding them to the nest, she only grinned. As she fed Yaz her nipple and moaned as her lover began to suck, she moaned and laughed and realised just how much fun life was going to be from now on. As she and Yaz began to fuck, just as they would for the rest of eternity, she forgot all about Gallifrey, her perverted people, and the danger to all the cosmos looming just beyond the doors to her new home.

In the darkness of the cell, The Empress of Time smiled and admired her younger self's body as she dove between Yaz's legs.

She hadn't forgiven Yaz for abandoning her all those years ago, but these days she had more important things to do than hold grudges for stupid human girls. The Doctor had been hurt by that betrayal, but now she was something more.

The Empress sighed and bit a finger, watching as her old companion and former wife glowed with joy, finally reunited with the Time-Lord she'd fallen for. It was a nice sight, she had to admit, The Doctor and Yasmin Khan, together again, forever.

With Yaz she had completed her little pet project. Every woman she'd ever had beside her in the Tardis transformed and enslaved, hers to enjoy for the rest of time. Sluts from across all of time and space, locked away in their cells fucking their tiny minds away, only remembering how much they loved their dear, dear Doctor.

Barbara Wright moaned as Susan devoured her fertile human cunt like only a time-lady could.

Vicki and Katarina giggled, playing with their tight young pussies as they kissed forever.

Sara Kingdom guided Dodo and Polly's sopping pussies up and down colossal dildos, laughing as the younger women worshipped her tits.

Victoria and Zoe gasped and grunted, rubbing their cunts together as they passionately scissored.

Liz Shaw grinned and groaned as Jo Grant's fingers worked her sopping ginger slit into a frenzy.

Leela roared out victoriously as, between her legs, Sarah Jane Smith tongued her to another rushing orgasm.

The first and second Romanas explored one another's' bodies in a never ending tongue-bath.

Tegan cried out, legs spread wide around Nyssa's face as the pair consummated their marriage again and again and again.

Peri, Mel and Ace moaned and writhed, each of their faces nuzzled against the cunt of another in a cunt-eating ouroboros.

Grace Holloway, Lucie Miller and Charlotte Pollard stuffed their hungry holes with whatever they could reach, stretched and screaming in mindless bliss.

Rose Tyler came alone, all of the most perverted events of the cosmos pouring through her head as she was passed around between vibrating metal tentacles, the big bad wolf nothing but a quivering heap of fuckmeat, comatose with orgasmic pleasure.

Gwen Cooper and Toshiko Sato moaned and slobbered into one another, bound into an eternal sixty-nine, soft ribbons lashing their sweaty curvy bodies tightly together.

Martha Jones purred and bounced her ass against the dildo strapped around Donna Noble's hips, grinning as the ginger clutched her tight and pounded her with single-minded focus. In between every moan and gasp she let out, Jenny broke from slobbering on her tits to steal a hungry kiss, eyes alight with the feral desire only a child of The Doctor could feel.

Astrid Peth came and came and came as River Song poured every filthy, sordid thing she'd ever done into her mind, their bodies pressed snug as they rode thrumming sybians and tasted one another's tongues.

Maria Jackson and Rani Chandra shared a fiery kiss as they slid their pussies down the same dildo, moaning and cumming as they made the thick rubber cock vanish inside them over and over again.

Amy Pond gurgled and stroked her fingers through Bill Potts' thick, curly hair as the younger girl put all of her years of experience of eating pussy into turning the redhead into a quivering mess.

Close by, three identical women kissed and kissed, tongues tangling and lips smacking as Clara Oswald and her temporal duplicates were suspended in a mesh of throbbing tentacles, every hole in their bodies rammed and stretched as they made out with themselves.

Madame Vastra grinned with dominant glee as she buried every last inch of her hyper-long tongue inside Jenny's cunt. She flicked and coiled inside her human wife's very womb, licking every last inch of fertile flesh inside and out.

Missy's laughter echoed off the walls of her domain, her strap on disappearing deep into Kate Stewart's blushing ass as she pounded the human milf silly. Kneeling at her feet with a riding crop in her lips was Osgood, drooling both above and below as she waited eagerly for her turn as the rogue Time-Lady's fucktoy.

And then there was The Doctor and Yaz, now locked in the throws of passion, moaning and grinding against one another like beasts in heat. The crown jewels of The Empress' collection.

The Empress, a woman who had once been The Doctor, laughed to herself as she admired her menagerie and wondered who she would add to it next...

This piece was made by the wonderful BecSantus, as the finale of this series.

Thanks to all of you for joining me for this series throughout the year and for all your support. I only regret there were too many beautiful companions to fit into twelve months, but maybe there'll be a bonus or two for those of you who have stuck it out this year. Have a great holidays and a happy new year!