Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stories were circulating around the Yel Basin about a great healer, able to cure even the most heinous afflictions. All due to a mysterious method of blood transfusion. According to the stories, they could cure rots, wastings, malignant growths. And all it cost was a trip out to a remote, dark land.

Miranda's reason was not nearly a matter of life or death. She'd merely been having skin troubles caused by some of her other medications and had up until this point found no way to clear it up.

She was midway through a cross country trip in an unfamiliar land when she heard the locals whispering to each other tales of the miracle cure. She only considered it for a moment and dismissed the thought. But Miranda didn’t need to seek it out. Instead it sought her.

She stumbled on the clinic mostly by accident, when a massive storm stopped her progress through the valley. If she hadn't stopped to get out of the rain, she would have missed it entirely in the darkness.

The door opened easily and she was met with wave of earthy aromas.

Even inside, the only light was a handful of flickering candles, barely illuminating the strange instruments. And also in that darkness, the man with the cure, eyes hidden under a strange hat.

“Welcome traveler.”

She mostly agreed to use his services because it was better than trying to go anywhere in this storm.

After a brief interview to determine her symptoms, he led her to an examination table in the candle-lit back room. She laid down and raised her sleeve so he could apply the iv.

Before he began the process he snapped an identification bracelet around her wrist.

“What’s that for? I’m not going to be here that long, am I?”

But he ignored her and began fiddling with his machines.

“You see, what many people don't realize is that to solve a problem, you can't just treat the symptoms from the outside. You have to get into the blood. It's all about the blood.”

She took in a sharp breath as the needle broke the skin.

As the transfusion pumped into her veins, a warmth suffused her body, pulling her down into a chemical stasis.

As soon as she was too drowsy to fight back, he began examining her. Squeezing and pinching and tugging at her clothes. She wanted to fight but as soon as the transfusion had begun to pump into her, her body was captured in a foggy, numb haze.

“Masculine, but receptive. Malleable. Fertile. We can fix this one.”

A red pulse took her and she descended like milk into coffee. She woke gasping from a fever dream and the room had changed. The doctor was gone, replaced by something sinister.

Before she could even shake the haze from her brain, a swarm of disfigured arms reached up from below the table, surrounding her.

Rough, slimy fingers closing around her. Ankles, wrists, neck, all holding so tight she could feel them bruising. Other hands reaching into her clothes.

She was too disoriented and weak to resist, so she was forced to lay back and let them molest her.

Then something else arrived. She felt the heat of it first, an oppressive boiling warmth that seeped into her skin. It rose up, cloaked in darkness, dripping in foul liquid.

She tried to scream and was silenced by a thick, wet appendage jamming hard into her mouth. She gagged and choked on it, struggling for air.

Thick wriggling meat forced her jaw wide, filling every bit of space between her lips. The hands held her in place so she couldn’t shake free.

The room grew even hotter as it violated her mouth, until it finally spurted out a wretched slime directly into the back of her throat.

Her only defense was to spit it out, spewing it all over her face. But there was just too much and eventually her need for air caused her to ingest the muck.

As soon as she’d swallowed it, the heat in her body hit a fever pitch. Overwhelming her until she passed out.

———

She woke up choking, covered in sweat. Alone.

No creatures.

She coughed to clear her throat, but it was dry.

Whatever she’d seen must have been a bad dream, but that didn’t feel quite right.

Her wrists were covered in fresh bruises and scratches. And deep within her that throbbing heat, now fading.

And how did she get here? This was a proper clinic, this room several times larger than the shack she’s started at. Someone must have moved her.

And where the hell did her shoes go?

She’d barely begun to get her bearings when a heavy weight slammed into the door, shaking it on it’s hinges. Someone had nailed boards over it, and two of them were shaken loose upon the second hit. She backed away as it continued to crash into the door from the other side. From between splintering wood and cracks in the shattering frame, Miranda caught glimpses of a creature, hulking and wet.

When the door had begun to break away, the creature reached in. Stretched tight around it’s malformed wrist was the same wristband that the ministrant had put on Miranda.

“What the fuck?”

No time to think about as the door was moments away from being torn apart.

There was no other exit so Miranda scrambled through the one open window, onto a roof still slick from rain. As a crash sounded from inside, she slipped and tumbled off the roof, landing hard.

When she finally was able to catch her breath, Miranda examined the band still around her wrist, and wondered if all his patients ended up like that thing back there.

After that dream or vision or whatever it had been, she’d had the sensation of some tiny point of light within her having been changed forever.

She shoved the thought away and walked away from the decrepit clinic in search of help.

The buildings, the unnatural peaks surrounding it, the strange lights streaking across the night sky, even the smells, it was like no place she’d ever seen on earth. And above it all a heavy, strange moon peering down over her. Even the moon seemed wrong, and the longer she looked at it, the more she felt an unnerving hum through her bones.

Were it not for the lingering pain, she’d believe this was a dream.

She ran into the town, desperate to find anyone to help her. Most of the village was dark, but she could feel eyes upon her. In the shadows, creatures skittered.

Unfortunately the first people she found had no intent to help her.

She stumbled upon them in a moonlit alley, a trio of men dressed in identical clothes and identical filth.

As soon as they saw her, they knew right away from her outfit and the scared look in her eyes that this was a newcomer.

“Been a while since we’ve seen fresh meat through here.” One of them nudged the man to his right. “Shall we act as the welcoming committee?”

Miranda cleared her throat and backed away. This was clearly danger. “Hey, I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Sounds like a girl. Looks like a boy. Which one are you, love?”

“Doesn’t matter. Still going to get fucked either way.”

Miranda looked for an escape, but the streets seemed to have rearranged behind her.

“She’s not armed.”

“Wait.” She couldn’t get a plea out quick enough before they rushed her.

A fist connected with her face and knocked her off her feet.

She scooted slowly away from them as she cradled her nose, spilling blood down her chin.

She turned to run, but couldn’t get on her feet soon enough. Before she could flee she took a hard knock on the back of the head from a makeshift club and went down hard, dazed.

They descended on her, pinning her down.

What little strength she had left wasn’t enough to break free of the three of them. As they pulled at her clothing she had a vivid flashback to the vision of the creatures molesting her. That was it. These weren’t people, they were monsters.

Soon a boot was pressing on the back of her neck, forcing her face against the dirty ground.

“Time to pay the toll.”

She was still reeling from the beating, but she found one last burst of strength when the man sitting on her legs locked his hands on her waistband and yanked down her pants.

All she could manage were angry shrieks and a final surge of energy, but it was all wasted. They had too strong a hold on her, and all she managed to do was tire herself out further and scratch up her newly exposed thighs against the ground.

She let out one last desperate moan of despair as he reached between her legs and grabbed her crotch, hard.

“Well, look at that. This one is a girl.” His fingers wormed beneath her underwear and prodded at her pussy. “Fuck she’s tight.”

“Is she a virgin?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s a dyke. She looks like one.” He licked his lips and gave her underwear a hard tug. “Flip her over. I want her to look me in the eye as I rape her.”

From the coordinated way they manhandled her and manipulated her limbs, this was a practiced maneuver.

She was exhausted and only able to give him a death glare as he stripped her below the waist and climbed between her legs, unbuckling his pants. Hand tight over her mouth to shut her up.

“She smells delicious. I love these new arrivals.”

He stroked his cock and pressed it to her pussy, a fat drop of pre smearing against her lips.

Her resistance slipped and she let out a wail of despair as his cock gained purchase and plunged inside her. Rough and painful, driving in like a spike.

He threw his full weight into each thrust, pounding her. Between their hideous grins staring down at her, she caught glimpses of that vile moon watching over the scene, seeming to pulse in time with her rapist’s rhythm.

After a short, violent fucking she felt the warm flood of his seed filling her up.

While he was giving a few last thrusts, the man holding her arms leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t worry. Get a few more dicks in you and you’ll start to love it. Beg for it. I’ve seen it happen a hundred times before with bitches just like you.”

Her mind was on fire with the thousand violent deaths she was wishing to inflict on them.

He pinched her face, turning her to get a good look at the furious scowl, trying to let the rage keep her from sobbing. But even now there were tears growing heavy in her eyes.

“My turn. I want that bitch mouth of hers.”

“Idiot. She’ll bite it off.”

“Then I’ll take her ass.”

A few more strikes to the belly to make sure to knock the wind out of her and keep her docile. While she gasped for breath, they flipped her back over, ass in the air.

She found a second wind when she felt his cock touch her asshole. Kicking and struggling but it was short lived.

Holding her by the hips, he tried to jam it in but there was no give. Barely able to pry the head inside.

“What’s the matter, bitch? Never been fucked in the ass before?” He jerked his hips forward again. “If you dress like a boy, you get fucked like a boy.”

They hadn’t bothered to stop up her mouth up this time but all she could get out was an incoherent, mewling plea.

Then he shifted his weight and the full length of his cock plunged inside at once. The unbearable pain and the frustration of not being able to do anything about this finally broke her and she began crying miserably.

The crying excited them and her rapist pounded into her faster.

The only relief for the pain was when he finally dumped his load inside her, giving her one last thrust so deep she felt the weight of it in her entire body.

Miranda was collapsed in a heap, the two loads inside her already performing a vile alchemy on her body, a corruptions seeping into her.

She was destroyed. So much that when the third one took his turn, they didn’t even have to fight her. All she could do was attempt to hide her crying face.

Her third time was much like the first. This time it was much less painful as she’d been lubed up with another man’s sperm.

She fought back strange feelings rising in her belly, seeking only a numbness to get through this.

“Yeah. I’m getting close.”

She shuddered and clamped her eyes closed, trying to block out the sight of them. But that meant she didn’t see the rope until he’d already knotted it around her neck.

Her eyes shot open and he gave the makeshift noose a hard twist, clamping her throat closed.

She clawed at it as the life was choked out of her, pulled tighter to the rhythm of each violent thrust. Toes curling. Tongue lolling out of her mouth as she struggled to take in any amount of air.

“Now you can take her mouth.”

The light was leaving her eyes, fingers growing weak. She was only vaguely aware of the fouled cock being forced into her mouth. Treated like a cheap fuck toy.

In her final moments her body betrayed her. As she was being plugged from both ends, as the light was leaving her eyes, she came. Despite the pain, despite the violence. One last vicious tremor through her body as she fell into darkness.

———

Miranda woke with a start, riding a wave of lingering panic. Collapsed in a pungent garden, that same sinister moon staring her down from above. She turned and coughed up a handful of white flower petals, same as the flowers surrounding her.

Before she could figure out where she was, she was jolted to her senses in terror when she saw the figure watching her.

But it wasn’t one of the rapists from the village. It was a docile woman in a maid’s uniform, waiting patiently for Miranda.

“Greetings. Welcome to your new home. I’m here to assist you.” The maid spoke in a dull monotone, with a matching fog in her eyes.

“How did I get here?”

“You died. You’ll return here each time you die.” Her eyes were still dull and empty. “Your bath is ready. And then a meal.”

“But…” Miranda was flummoxed by the first act of non-violence since she’d arrived and let the doll lead her into the darkened hall. “Are you saying people don’t die here?”

“You’re the only one with such a power. A different fate awaits you.”

That didn’t sound particularly encouraging.

While bathing, she examined her body. Every scratch and bruise had healed or disappeared, though there was a lingering soreness in her muscles. The triple rape was a heaviness in her limbs. The rope around her neck barely an itch.

She sank lower into the hot water, the memories of the encounter a series of hazy shadows. Before she realized it, she was touching herself under the water.

As soon as she realized what she was doing, she forced herself to stop, riddled with disgust.

On her way out of the bath, Miranda stopped at a window to survey the view. It was the same town she’d woken up in before. Still stuck here, even after dying.

It was going to be a long time before she saw the sun again.

There was a hefty sized wardrobe in the connected bedroom, but when she opened it, Miranda found a trove of clothing for a fancier woman than her. There was no way she was going to be comfortable traipsing around this fucked up town in a dress.

So she gave up on the wardrobe and changed back into the clothes she’d arrived in, even as dirty as they were.

The dining room was in disrepair and Miranda sat in the one unbroken chair. It was so dimly lit she couldn’t tell exactly what the dish being served to her was, but didn’t care. She wolfed down the savory roast while the maid ran through a prepared statement about Miranda’s place here and the services available to her, all in that same doll-like tone. But Miranda hardly heard it.

The longer she ate the more she thought and the more she thought the angrier she got.

As she was considering the silverware and how suitable it would be to plunge into their necks, the doll placed a small pink card in front of her.

“What is this?”

“The Matron requests a meeting, as she does with all new hunters.”

“And why would I do that? What does she have for me?”

“Weapons. Suitable for killing.”

Miranda was up and on her way before she even finished chewing. Blood was on her mind.

She followed the instructions on the card to a large building overlooking the village. Big enough to be a hotel.

Before she could figure out where to knock, a side door opened and revealed a long-haired woman in a slinky dress and corset. “Well, hello there, fresh meat.”

“You wanted to see me?”

“No, you wanted to see me. You just didn’t know it yet.” She smiled and opened the door, gesturing for her to come inside. “Now get in here before the dogs catch your scent.”

Miranda was seated in a plush chair in yet another dimly lit room for a meeting with the Matron. A bodyguard watched from a dark alcove.

“Do you have any idea how I got here? Or how to get out?”

The Matron lit a fancy cigarette that smelled of burnt mint. “Oh, lots of people looking to get out of here, but that’s not really my business.” She crossed her long legs. “I understand you have a different business in mind. Some unfortunate business in the village tonight, my dear?”

Miranda’s fists clenched.

“Good news, because dealing with those ravenous brutes and getting out of this town have the same resolution.” She flicked her ash. “Killing. Murder. Bloodletting. General havoc.”

“What?”

“Let’s not beat around the bush. I know what you want to do to those boys. Every newcomer has the same capacity, whether they’ve got a good reason or not.” She reached into a case and set down a piece of paper on the small table between them. “Let’s cut to the fun part, dear. You want to kill, and I’ve got weapons to do the deed. You just have to pay.”

It only occurred to her now that none of Miranda’s belongings had come with her. “I don’t have any money.”

“How lucky for you I’m willing to run a tab.” She pulled a pin from her hair and the point of it shone in the dim light. “Sign this contract and I’ll give you everything you need to avenge yourself to your heart’s content. And all it costs is a few favors.”

Miranda considered it only briefly. But then that strange heat in her body that drove her to masturbate in the tub was also urging her see the three of them broken before her.

She agreed without a second thought.

The Matron offered her the pin to prick her finger and seal the contract in blood.

“Can’t I just sign my name?”

“It’s all about blood around here.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

A sharp jab and she pressed her bloody finger to the parchment. A slight tickle of doubt struck her as she realized that she didn’t read the contract. Couldn’t read it, in this light.

The Matron gave her a coy look and took Miranda’s bleeding hand in hers. “Here. A gift to celebrate this new partnership.” She lowered her head and took Miranda’s finger between her lips, treating it to a long, gentle suck.

A deep throb grabbed Miranda from within and she had a vision of wrapping her legs around the Matron’s head. Of biting, sucking, eating, licking. The vision of fucking the Matron and being fucked was so vivid she gasped and pulled her hand away, fighting the throbbing heat within her.

“More where that came from, dear.” The Matron smiled and wiped her mouth. “If you want to get out of this town, start by killing those three. Then we’ll discuss further jobs.” She ushered Miranda out. “Now get to it. I’ve got to get this place ready for the grand re-opening.”

As she saw her out, the bodyguard stepped forward and offered Miranda the agreed upon weapons. A curious short spear and a pistol. Along with the straps the wear them.

“How do I…”

“Don’t worry. It’ll come naturally. It always does to your type.” The Matron waved and closed the door.

Miranda retraced her steps back into town, fiddling with the weapons as she went, testing their weight. But the further she walked, the more natural they began to feel in her hands. And the idea of using them for killing set off a thrilling electricity within her, as strong as what had moved her when the Matron was sucking her finger.

It didn’t take long to find one of her attackers.

The first one she found was the man who had taken her ass and mouth in turn. And it was a good thing too, because there was no chance of her having any reservations about attacking him. Just a monster.

He was still riding his refractory period, sipping on a stolen bottle of booze. Only had time to sleepily look up in time for Miranda’s weapon to cleave his head from his body.

While in her former life, this would have mortified her, now it sent her into a joyful bloodlust. She was a natural after all. She kicked his head down the street, rolling out of sight with a soft splat.

Miranda was still reveling when one of his partners walked out of the door behind her. She recognized the smell of him and turned and fired her pistol right between his eyes. Those same eyes he’d made her look into as he fucked her.

He crumpled to the ground, his stench momentarily drowned out by the aroma of gun smoke.

While searching for the last of her attackers, she fiddled with the pistol. Some sort of single shot affair. But she couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to reload it. Not that it mattered. This spear was feeling better in her hands by the second. Drawing blood was her true calling.

She finally found him at the sight of the actual rape, fluids still staining the ground where they’d defiled her.

And he was still laying alongside it. Napping with an insultingly pleased look on his face as he snored.

Didn’t even stir in his sleep as she stood over him, deciding where to strike, what artery to open. Oblivious.

This was the one who’d gone last, the one who’d choked her to death for kicks.

She had nothing but rage for him, but she hesitated. Because there was a different need rising in her.

A deep silence overtook her as she studied him. Then she nudged him with her foot. He still didn’t stir.

There was something about his vulnerability that urged her to find out more about the body she was about to destroy.

She moved her foot up into his lap, caressing until she felt his hardening cock underneath. Her guts twisted at the sensation.

Mouth dry, compulsively licking her lips. She gave it a slow stroke, using her spear for balance, her heartbeat rising to dangerous levels.

Same as with the Matron, her mind was invaded by a new vision.

Instead of stabbing him, kneeling and mounting him.

Riding his cock, urging him on. Guiding his hands around her neck. Telling him ‘do it again.’ Imagining the delicious pressure on her throat.

Then she snapped back to reality so hard it gave her whiplash. Her foot pressed on him too hard and he began to stir.

He got his eyes open a moment before she drove her spear into his chest, spitting a geyser of blood in return.

She was drenched in red, but it didn’t slake her thirst.

It was a long walk back to the haven where the maid waited. Even now that it was over her blood was still pulsing hot. She found herself compelled to stop and palm her crotch through her clothes, gasping at the heat she felt there.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

The desire drove her to her knees and to fight it back, she masturbated furiously. Kneeling on the dirty ground, still covered in strange blood, rubbing herself while dogs howled in the distant night.

The town had already begun to rewrite her.

Chapter Text

Once Miranda had drawn blood, the hunt came naturally.

When the beast dove out of the shadows, she didn’t pause or stutter before drawing her weapon. It’s blood hit her hot and thick.

Monsters around here have trouble keeping their heads on their shoulders.

When she’d first arrived, the town had seemed quiet, dormant. In the middle of a long sleep, except for the three men who’d violently welcomed her. But after she’d murdered them, it felt like the town was starting to stir, and with it all the strange creatures that called this place home.

She’d had no further trouble so far, but how many monsters and corrupted villagers would it take for one of them to get the drop on her?

Miranda went back to the Matron to try and pay off some tiny fraction of her debt with the pocket change she’d scavenged up so far. She sat waiting in the Matron’s parlor to find out the damage.

While the time dragged on, she became aware of a low moan from the other room. No doubt the Matron engaging is some illicit acts and making Miranda sit here and listen to it. Miranda was straining under the weight of her own unwelcome desire. Pressing her thighs together and fighting down the need.

She was moments away from giving up and leaving when the Matron finally appeared, wiping her mouth conspicuously.

“Sorry for the wait, dear. I was taking my medicine.”

Miranda grumbled and handed over her pocket change, a single drop against an ocean of debt that seemed to grow every time she came back here.

The mechanics of the interest didn’t make any sense to her. Since she’d arrived there had been an everlasting night. No way to tell the days. Time itself had an indistinct, watery flow. So how was the Matron even calculating interest?

She would have loved to cut off her head and be done with it, but the Matron’s bodyguards were always in arms reach, and she was too scared to find out what they’d do to her if she tried anything.

The Matron sensed her frustration as she showed her the adjusted total, an insurmountable figure.

“While I appreciate your deposits so far, I do run a business here. I think you’ll find it much more profitable to help me resume operations.”

“And how do I do that?”

“My preparations for the grand re-opening are already in place. But my staff is missing. And now that you’ve done such a good job of cleaning up the streets, you may be able to convince some of them to return to work.”

“You want me to walk out there and give them a summons?”

The Matron swirled her glass and took a drink. “They will likely require some convincing.”

“And what if they don’t want to come back?”

“Then force them.” The matron grabbed something from behind her chair and threw it into Miranda’s lap. It was a dog collar and long leash. “Put that around their neck and drag them back if need be. Once they’re here, we’ll do the rest.”

Something about this arrangement felt scummy, but until she could find some way to leave, she would have to play along for now.

The matron saw her out with a list of employees to round up and instructions on how to find them.

“Do me a favor, dear. Go get a real outfit. I require my business partners at least be presentable.”

Miranda looked down at her shirt, soaked through with mud and blood. “Where am I supposed to get new clothes?”

“Ask that doll you have at home. Besides, you’ll have a much easier time convincing my associates to come back to work if you don’t look like a mad blood monger. Now, if there’s nothing else…”

“Actually.” Miranda drew the empty pistol that she was now paying interest on. “I fired this thing but I don’t know how to reload it. Any ideas?”

The Matron laughed quietly. “That wasn’t supposed to be used as a weapon. It was for you. As insurance.”

“Then what was I supposed to use if for?”

“In case of emergencies. To put a bullet in your head and get back home if you’re about to be captured. Not all of the residents of the village are so violent in bed. If you get imprisoned by the wrong person, you won’t ever get out.”

Miranda’s hands grew clammy. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious, dear.”

“How do I reload it, or get a new one?”

“Finish the job and we’ll talk. You’re already too deep in your tab to discuss further charity.”

With that she closed the door on Miranda and left her to the current hunt.

Miranda holstered the empty pistol. “What a fucking mess.”

Miranda returned to the haven for a bath, scrubbing off the blood and traces of viscera that had soaked her through.

She took another trip through the wardrobe, and with some scouring managed to find some trousers.

While she was dressing she saw a pair of glossy heels and took a moment to trace a finger along their curves. Then she fought back the tinge and went back to assembling a respectable outfit.

When she was done she examined herself in the mirror. Far fancier than what she normal cared to wear, but better than the gore soaked rags she’d come in with. It made her look like a Victorian detective, but at least she might not stick out quite so much.

The maid insisted she eat before leaving, though Miranda wasn’t in the mood for anything too hearty.

The maid placed an aromatic pudding in front of her and Miranda had to wonder where she got her supplies. She’d never seen her leave for groceries. And no one ever visited the haven. The questions weren’t enough to stop her from eating.

As she took her first bite, the heat at the base of her belly flared up. That pulsing desire that had infected her.

Before she’d arrived here, she’d been nearly frigid. This sudden urge toward perversion was frustrating and it took every fiber of her will to resist the urge to frig herself raw. Control was important.

She focused on each bite, trying to suppress this sudden flare up. But her blood was boiling, driving her to fever.

The maid watched her with the same dull, distant look she always wore.

“Do you require assistance?”

“I…I’m sick. That’s all.”

“The corruption has taken hold.”

Miranda wiped the sweat from her brow and pinched herself, trying to focus. Those bastards in the village had done this to her, she could feel it. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“The doctor can help. But you’ll have to find her.”

“Doctor?”

“She has not returned from the village in some time. She will find you when the time comes.” The doll dipped her fingers into Miranda’s food, then offered the mess to her. “Until then, you may use me as you wish to alleviate your hunger.”

“What?”

The doll pressed her fingers to Miranda’s lips, then slipped them inside her mouth. “I am here to satisfy your needs.”

Miranda couldn’t stop her tongue from swirling around her fingers, suckling them clean. That incessant heat urging her on. To suck. To bite.

She broke free and pushed away from the table, leaving the doll to stand there, Miranda’s saliva still coating her fingers.

Miranda walked deeper into the village than she’d dared to go before, following the directions to her first target.

Every loud footstep seemed to be answered by a distant howl, whether wolf or something stranger.

What shocked her was how large this land was. From where she stood she could see traces of darkened cathedrals, forests, swamps, peaks, spires, wild lands gone to rot. All of it shimmering under this moon that refused to set.

She found the home of the first target easy enough and knocked on her door. “Are you in there?” She checked her paper in the dim light. “Ceres?”

After a cautious silence the door crept open, revealing a terrified mousy girl peeking out from within. “Who are you?”

With the rapists about, she likely only answered because she heard a woman’s voice, though she still looked ready to run.

“The Matron sent me to fetch you.”

Her eyes widened and she backed away. “No, I can’t go back there.”

Miranda slapped the door open before she could latch it. “Don’t be difficult. Your comfort is less important than my legs not getting broken.”

Panic struck her. “No, I was so close to getting over it.” She dropped to her knees in front of Miranda. “Please, don’t send me back. I’ll do anything. Anything.”

She clutched at Miranda’s leg, the implication clear. She was offering her body.

Miranda felt that desperate need pulsing through her blood. In a mirror of her encounter with the maid, Miranda reached out and pressed her index finger to the girl’s lips. With a warm breath, she opened her mouth and suckled on the finger, savoring it.

Miranda shivered and her vision got hazy with need.

Then she remembered the collar, bringing it out and fumbling with the latch.

As she saw the collar, a look of recognition passed through the girl’s eyes. She pleaded weakly, but a moan slipped out her mouth as the collar tightened around her neck. The protests stopped, the collar’s hold transforming her into a servile pet. The Matron must have known she’d respond this way.

The sudden dominance over this girl hit Miranda hard. She had to get back before she gave in to some of the dark urges weighing her down. Miranda tugged on the leash to get her moving.

Walking through the village, her head didn’t clear. Her blood kept boiling. It got so overwhelming she had to stop, leaning against a wall. Her willpower was failing.

As she attempted to center herself, her mind drifted to the girl waiting at the end of this leash.

The Matron never said what her actual business was, but it wasn’t hard to guess. The decor, the building itself, the way the Matron presented herself, that fact that this ‘staff member’ had gone docile the second she had a collar around her neck.

It was a whorehouse. She’d sensed it the first time she’d stepped inside, but had been so dead set on murder that she didn’t care.

And that meant this girl she was leading around was a whore. Something broke in her and she pulled hard on the leash.

The rest happened in a red haze. Forcing the girl to kneel down, taking off her pants, and pressing the girl’s face into her pussy.

“Eat it, you whore.”

Her body convulsed as the girl obediently worked her clit with a practiced tongue. The fact that she was clearly so experienced with this act made Miranda all the more crazed by lust. So crazed that she didn’t care how exposed she was, naked from the waist down in a public place.

Struggling to stand as she had a bare leg hooked over the girl’s shoulder, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her tight against her pussy.

As she got closer, she pressed the girl’s back to the ground so she could ride her face. Bruising her knees for a messy fuck in the street.

With a last desperate gasp she orgasmed. Miranda came so hard her vision blacked out for a moment and she was hit with dizzy spell while this borrowed whore drank of her juices.

When the disorientation finally broke Miranda climbed off and rushed to get dressed. Now that she’d been satiated, the corruption had lost it’s hold on her and she could return to sanity.

The shame of the act was a lingering deep cut.

She pulled up her pants and grabbed the leash. “Move.”

She walked too fast the rest of the way, trying to outpace the personal disgust.

The Matron was waiting for them outside her door. “Well well well. Such speedy service.” She motioned to her bodyguard who stepped forward and took the leash from Miranda. “Ceres, my love, we’ve missed you.”

She didn’t say anything, only averted her eyes.

The Matron looked at her and then at Miranda, a smile appearing on her face. “What sort of person would I be if I didn’t properly welcome you back to work?” She took Ceres’s face in her hands and gave her a deep kiss, tongue probing her mouth. Tasting.

Miranda turned away, ashamed.

The bodyguard led the girl inside while the Matron hung back, theatrically licking her lips. “How nice of you to treat her to dinner before bringing her back. What a gracious host you are.”

“If we’re done here, I’m leaving.”

“Don’t be long fetching the others or this girl is going to get worked to the bone.” She waved goodbye and went back inside, leaving Miranda to her work.

Miranda took her time walking to the next address, trying to shake off the horrid memory of losing control.

As she was cutting through a boulevard she’d never traveled before, something lumpy and wriggling emerged from the shadows.

It was hard to tell in this light, but it didn’t seem nearly as threatening as most of the creatures she heard howling in the dark. Didn’t even have a face, mostly a sack of weird purple meat.

It was taking up the middle of the narrow avenue ahead, so she attempted to tiptoe past it.

She was almost beyond it when the creature began quivering and making a mewling noise. She stopped to consider the little lump. It was almost cute for a blob, and she was even considering giving it a pet when it suddenly turned and hissed angrily at her.

Miranda reflexively kicked it, punting it into the nearest wall. It twitched before hissing again and spraying her direct in the face with a thick cloud of dark, gritty gas.

Blinded, she was doubled over with a sudden coughing fit, the thick gas clinging to her lungs.

“You little shit.”

She stabbed out, still blind, slapping her spear against the ground until she heard a wet slap. It gave a disgusting squeal and fled.

Miranda spent a long time hacking for breath. “I hate this fucking town.”

When she managed to regain control, she saw the blob creature watching her from a nearby awning, vibrating with hatred.

She would have loved to explode him with a bullet, but her spite would have to do.

Her breath still hitched but she was otherwise unharmed so she moved on to her target.

The creature watched her go, bleeding and plotting vengeance.

The house was dark and no one responded to her knocks. Eventually she got tired of waiting and tried the door. It was unlocked and swung open with a loud creak.

“Anyone here?”

Nothing.

She was on the verge of writing this off as a waste of time when she noticed a flickering light coming from a stairway. Miranda crept down the stairs, not anticipating a struggle with how submissive the last girl had been.

At the bottom of the stairs she opened the door into a basement bedroom lit by a lantern glowing with soft blue light.

The first thing she saw was the girl she’d come here for, tied up to a chair, dressed in a ratty dress. The girl looked up, full of desperation at the sight of Miranda.

“Help me, please. Get me out of here.”

“Uh, okay. Actually I came here to bring you back to the Matron.”

“Yes, anything to get out of here. Please, hurry.”

“Really?”

As Miranda got closer, she got a better look at the situation. The girl was covered in a mixture of garish makeup and struggle bruises. Her arms and legs were bound to the chair in a complicated series of interconnected knotted ropes.

“What is all this?” Miranda pulled at the ropes but couldn’t figure out where to even start to untie them.

“Just cut them off. And hurry, before he comes back.”

The spear was too clumsy so Miranda set it in the corner. The table next to the girl’s chair was set up with a dirty tea set, and amid the silverware she found a knife.

It took some sawing but she finally managed to break the girl out of her bonds. She threw them off and slid out of the chair, scrambling for the stairs.

“Thank goodness. We have to go now.”

Miranda was about to join her when another harsh coughing fit overtook her. That creature’s smog was still affecting her. The coughing was so bad she need to sit down on the bed pushed against the wall to recover.

Miranda waved her off. “Gimme a second.”

“We don’t have a second.”

“Then go. I’ll catch up.” She coughed into her hand. “You promise you’ll go back to the Matron?”

“Gladly. Anything is better than being trapped here.” She pulled off the high heels that were strapped to her feet, tossed them aside, and sprinted up the stairs. Miranda heard the door slam.

While she got her breathing under control, her eyes roamed the room. Tons of ropes and pulleys that had been mounted to the wall and ceiling. The furniture was mismatched, including a large makeup vanity set and a wardrobe. The wardrobe was open and stuffed with dresses like the one the girl had been wearing. But they didn’t look like anything practical. They looked like what you would dress a doll in. What had gone on down here?

It wasn’t until she heard the front door swing open that she realized she should have fled long ago. The massive footsteps upstairs confirming that someone very large had just arrived.

The door leading down to this room swung open. Miranda scrambled for her weapon, then realized that she’d left it sitting by the stairs, in clear view of the behemoth stomping down the stairs.

The only option now was to hide. Wait for a chance to strike.

Miranda dove into the wardrobe and pulled the doors closed, listening to the stomp of his footsteps.

As soon as he entered the bedroom, he stopped at the sight of his captive’s escape.

Miranda could hear his breath getting heavier as he stooped to examine the cut ropes. No words, but she could feel the malice. Peeking out through the wardrobe’s door, all she could make out was his huge shape. This was not someone she wanted to tangle with.

Up until now she’d been lulled into a false sense of security. Every creature she fought had been a sad, pathetic abomination or a half sleeping villager. Nothing nearly so dangerous as this beast of a man.

She was ready to wait here silently until he left. But then she felt another coughing fit coming on. She clamped her hands over her mouth to force it down. But like every other compulsion she’d suffered since arriving here, she could only hold out for so long.

It came out in one loud expulsion, and she froze, waiting to see if she was found out.

Seconds later the doors of the wardrobe flung open and a huge, meaty arm reached in for her. He grabbed her around the neck and yanked her out with inhuman strength.

She was suspended, unable to break free from his tree trunk of an arm. Kicking, punching, biting, but his grip was unbreakable.

When he got tired of her struggles he slammed her hard into the floor, knocking the wind out of her.

He stood over her, his rage turning to interest. While she choked on air, weakly scratching at him, his huge hands roamed. Pinching and measuring, examining her.

He’d lost his doll tonight, and was in need of a replacement.

He reached a decision and dragged her to the corner where a large piece of luggage sat. He unlocked it, shook out the few pieces of clothing inside, and then crammed her inside.

She fought like mad, but all that got her was another slam against the floor, after which she went limp.

It was a tight fit, folded up in the fetal position as he closed and locked the luggage.

Her limbs were packed in so tight they were getting numb, and every second of darkness was draining away her hope of escape. He had complete control and there was nothing she could do about it.

All the while, the pistol was jabbing painfully into her side, a grim reminder that this was the exact situation it was meant for.

It felt like a hundred years had passed by the time he opened the case.

Starving, crazed, weakened from the confinement, she was laid out on the floor like laundry.

“…please…no.”

He crouched over her and stripped her down to her underwear, exhibiting a dexterity that should have been impossible with such gigantic hands. That same dexterity had allowed him to build and arrange the devices he used to keep his dolls behaved.

Her half-conscious mania broke when he sat her in the chair and a series of ropes tightened around her wrists and ankles. And one extra addition, a noose around her neck.

As soon as the ropes constricted around her, Miranda let out a sad moan of defeat. This was exactly the contraption binding the girl she had rescued, and she knew exactly how impossible it would be to escape unless someone else happened across this room and rescued her. But who would be looking for her?

She was bracing for a nightmare, but whatever he was planning, he had to prepare her first.

While she’d been locked away, he’d prepared a meal for her. A meal made entirely of cake.

He daintily cut her a large slice, offering it to her in his open palm.

She couldn’t tell what, but she knew from the smell something was off about it, and she clamped her mouth closed.

To force her to open up, he tugged at the noose around her neck to cut off her air. She still struggled to keep him out so he shoved it up her nose until she was red with strain and had to open up, the entirety of the cake crammed inside as soon as she gasped for air.

She grimaced at the taste of rancid cream, spitty globs of cake falling on her bare legs while he grabbed another slice.

Miranda was trying to spit out an oath of bloody vengeance when he grabbed the back of her head and smashed another mound of cake into her mouth.

The process continued until all the remained of the cake was the mess leftover on her face and chest.

What she didn’t realize was that the cake was meant to be a wedding cake. And pretty soon he would consummate.

He cleaned her with a dirty rag and began the long process of dressing her. Whatever had been in that cake had made her drowsy and disoriented, so she could only watch with a dull rage as he went through the elaborate process of stripping her naked and giving her a new outfit. He worked around the ropes, different limbs being constricted at different times so he could work, escape impossible.

He’d already lost one doll. He wasn’t going to lose another.

He replaced her clothing with a dainty ensemble from the wardrobe she’d hidden in. A dress, stockings, high heels, all fit for a doll.

She wasn’t able to see the outfit until he’d bound her to a chair in front of the vanity mirror. But now he had to finish the look.

He began applying makeup to her, an excessive amount in an overblown version of femininity.

Each time she struggled to get away from the implements drifting too close to her eyes, he tightened the rope around her neck until she behaved.

Frustrated by Miranda’s short hair, the doll keeper fitted a wig tightly to her scalp, brushing it into shape.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t even recognize herself, transformed as she was into a girly plaything.

When he was satisfied, he tied her down to the bed, spread-eagled with extra ropes to make sure she wouldn’t be able to move until he wanted.

When he left the cellar, she attempted to struggle, but every pull on the ropes caused the one around her neck to grow tighter, connected as they were.

If she really wanted to escape, all she would have had to do was pull until the life was choked out of her. But even knowing what would certainly happen if she stayed, she couldn’t find the willpower to do something so extreme.

She had finally managed to drift off, even bound in ropes, when his huge form crept over her sleeping body. The exhaustion had knocked her out so hard that she didn’t wake up until after he was already between her legs, readjusting her bonds.

She snapped awake with a start to the feeling of the doll keeper running his horse’s tongue across her toes, wetting them through the stockings.

The revulsion was quickly replaced by terror when she saw that he had stripped himself nude, his massive cock throbbing between his bare thighs.

The drowsiness caused by the cake had finally abated, so she was finally able to assemble words, pleading with him to not rape her.

“Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything. You don’t even want me, right? How about the other girl? I’ll bring her back, I swear. Please!”

The words did not move him. He still had never spoken a single word since she’d arrived, so it wasn’t even clear if he understood her.

Miranda gave one last weak struggle against the ropes as he lined up his too-big cock with her pussy. A pussy that had been nearly untouched before she arrived in this town.

Above the bed was a tiny square window, offering a view of the black sky. There was something so cruel about being this close to the outside but so far from help. She screamed once as he began splitting her wide open, knowing that no one would hear.

His hot breath rolled against her face as he leaned in and drove his meat into her. She gritted her teeth through the strain, feeling it violate her one inch at a time.

Writhing under him, her protests had turned into mewling moans. The bed creaked under his weight as he used her body.

The physical exertion drove her to hysterics as he continued pounding into her, the strange delicate dexterity he’d exhibited so far giving way to animal rutting.

Sweating and shivering as she desperately tried to hold onto her mind, keep it from breaking. But there was no peace left for her. As he grabbed her around the waist and pounded her back wall, thoughts crept in unbidden. She couldn’t deny the knowledge that he was never going to willingly let her go, that this was going to be the rest of her life, a long series of violent rapes and soiled cake.

The bed barely held its structure as he finally came, grinding into her as he dumped his load inside her. A few last pumps and he finally relented, while she had already become a crumpled heap, tears running from her eyes.

He readjusted her ropes, adding more to keep her pinned helplessly to the mattress, and then left to wherever it was he went when he wasn’t playing with his doll.

She laid there through the endless night, struggling to breathe through the sting of the ropes constricting her.

As she laid there in the silence of the cellar, she could feel the deposit of semen inside her and the havoc it was wreaking on her body.

It wasn’t just semen, it was a contaminant.

The longer his leaving were inside her, the more she could feel chemical reactions firing within her, replacing her battered exhaustion with a sick heat.

It was clear that her sexual encounter with the Matron’s girl hadn’t been a cure, only a temporary fix. Now that she’d had another dose, the corruption was coming back hard.

Praying for sleep, but her toes were curling inside her high heels, thighs flexing against her bonds, compelled to touch herself, but each attempt tightened the rope around her neck and she savored that pressure.

One last desperate moan in the dark.

She was much more docile the next time he returned for ‘tea time’. Partly due to her corrupted blood, and part due to the painful starvation she’d been subjected to, waiting in that cellar.

Another dress, another set of stockings and heels, another slop of makeup.

This time when she saw herself in the mirror, she couldn’t even remember what she’d looked like before.

When presented with the soiled cake, she didn’t even resist, though the doll keeper’s sense of ceremony had already broken down. He was too overcome with need and bent her over to fuck her from behind, keeping her face pressed down into the cake.

Forced to eat like an animal in between hard thrusts. And it was when her cheeks were stuffed full of cake that she felt her orgasm approaching.

She let out a wail of despair. Spitting out the cake in her mouth as she begged for him to stop, to let her rest, to not make her cum.

He answered by pounding her with renewed vigor.

She broke into convulsions as the orgasm ripped through her, his cock still grinding into her. The sight of her body betraying her sent him over the edge and he dumped another foul load inside her.

When he had finally finished, she lay in a heap, runny makeup and cake frosting dripping off her face. Burning hot with shame.

When he caught his breath he slowly cleaned her face off with a crusty rag. But while he was hunched over her, the view rekindled him.

The sight of his hardening cock sent her into a fresh round of soft sobs, but this time he aimed it directly for her mouth. The thick shaft parted her lips, straining her jaw as he pressed past her teeth.

It was a short, brutal throat fuck. Miranda was kicking her feet as much as she could, retching and gagging as he shot a second load into her mouth. She spit it out with a hard series of coughs.

Even he seemed surprised by the intensity of the moment.

Thoroughly satiated, he returned her to her bed to await the next round of doll play.

Alone in the dark, she was resigned to this being her life now, cake gurgling in her belly.

When she was almost asleep, a shape appeared at the tiny window above the bed. It slapped against the glass, overcome with opportunistic rage at finally finding its target.

All she could do was look on as it threw its weight against the glass, finally knocking it open and sliding inside.

She was too traumatized by this situation to react, but she was dimly aware of seeing this horrible blob before. It was the creature that had sprayed her with gas and gotten her into this mess to begin with. Now it was here for revenge for kicking and stabbing it.

It landed on the bed near her feet with a wet slap, then announced itself with a loud hiss. Then it leaped at her foot, sinking its teeth in.

Miranda grimaced at the pain, but any attempt to kick it away would only choke her.

After her foot, it moved up the the meat of her leg, gnawing through her stockings. It’s teeth weren’t long enough to do any real damage, but they were enough to break the skin and hurt like hell.

As it moved up her body, leaving a trail of teeth marks, she found her resigned desperation begin to be replaced by anger at this miserable little creature. Biting her own lip as it chewed on her armpit, murmuring curses at it.

But then it bit down on her hand, its teeth catching on the rope binding her. Finally a beam of hope began to shine on her as she felt the threads of the rope fraying.

The creature was gnawing on her belly when she got her hand free and tugged the noose from her neck.

Her rage hit a breaking point and without thinking she grabbed the nasty little blob and shoved it into her mouth, thrashing it with her teeth. Gobbling it down in a few hard bites, she threw the remains across the room and began working on her escape.

She made short work of her bindings and got up from the mattess. She took one step in her slutty doll heels and she fell hard, twisting her ankle. Miranda had never worn heels before. Walking in them was a skill she didn’t possess.

She tore them from her feet and limped towards the exit. She scooped up her empty pistol from the remains of her clothes. Her spear was still leaning against the wall at the base of the stairs, right where she’d left it. She grabbed it and used it as a walking stick to get up the stairs and out into the cold night air.

Adrenaline drove her away from that house and back to her new home.

The maid was unmoved by her frightful appearance.

“Welcome home, hunter. May I prepare you a meal?”

Miranda coughed once. “I already ate.”

After stripping off her doll clothes, she took a long bath. A lengthy soak to nurse her sore muscles, the rope burns, the bite marks.

She was too physically and mentally destroyed to even consider the revenge that she deserved. There was killing to be done, but it would have to come later.

For the first time she considered why this building was here, fully stocked and staffed, untouched by the nightmare outside.

As long as it remained a safe place it didn’t matter much to her. There were other concerns infecting her mind.

She raised her foot from the water, vividly imagining sliding it into a high heeled shoe fit for a doll.

And that thought alone was enough to drive her into a fierce bout of masturbation.

Up above, the moon grew larger. Hungrier.

Chapter Text

Miranda was with the Matron, out on her balcony overlooking the darkened streets. Below, a customer was being discreetly led inside. For now, the Matron’s business was appointment only while the establishment returned to it’s former glory.

Miranda was there for her scheduled debt harassment meeting. The Matron hadn’t even noticed or cared that she’d recently been kidnapped and kept in a rape basement, all for the benefit of getting her stupid cathouse running. All she cared about was reminding Miranda that she was owned.

Miranda had considered revenge on the hulking man who’d captured her, but was too worried about not being able to execute him. The risk of another stay in that basement wasn’t worth the attempt. She was still suffering the effects of the last time.

She’d dressed herself in trousers and a thick coat, perfectly normal clothing. But the pants felt itchy and constricting and her feet were begging to be pressed into heels.

Every time the urges started to rise, she shoved them down forcibly, digging her nails into her palm.

She got another of these flashes as she watched the customers approaching, picturing herself in their place. Miranda shoved the thought away, focusing to get her breathing under control.

The Matron took a sip from her wine glass and licked her lips. “You look a bit tense, dear. Need some professional help?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You can make use of that company discount.”

As if she needed to be even further in debt. “Do you have a job for me or not?”

“We’re going to have to loosen you up eventually.” The Matron sighed and pulled a folded piece of paper from her cleavage. “Here. Go find my wait staff.”

———

Miranda departed immediately. Had to keep moving. The longer she sat still, the easier it was for the thoughts to creep in. The urges.

Even as she walked her hands began compulsively squeezing her spear, then stroking it slowly. As soon as she caught herself doing it, she bit her lip and broke into a quick jog, trying to outrun her own corrupted blood.

She followed the Matron’s directions past yellow burning street lamps to a secluded ring of cottages. But the girl was not there. Her door swung open easily, the domicile long empty.

“Now what?”

There was a light on in the building next door, and the window creaked open. There was a man inside watching her, seemingly disappointed when he got a look.

“Uh, hello. Who are you?” She was still wary of any random guy who showed up in this town. She wasn’t about to let another get the drop on her.

“I’m Gilbert.”

He looked harmless enough. And he wasn’t attacking her on sight, which was an improvement on her past encounters. “Okay, great. You know where your neighbor went? I have business.”

“She’s gone. She left.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“She went to go find the doctor. Her condition was getting too much to bear.”

“What condition would that be?”

He sighed deeply. “The same one we all have.”

Dimly Miranda remembered her maid mentioning a doctor. Someone who could do something about the corruption. If she was really being handed a clue to this doctor’s location, her jobs for the Matron would take a backseat.

“Any idea where this doctor is?”

“I could tell you where to find her, but…” He shivered and coughed. “Can you stay with me awhile? I’ve been having troubles. The girl next door used to help me when it got bad…”

“And how did she help you?” But she already knew. From the way he was trembling and the heat pouring off him, so intense even she could feel it through the window.

“She helped me control my urges.”

“Of course she did.” As if she needed any further confirmation of what the Matron’s business actually was, . “Why don’t you just go to the doctor if you know where she is?”

“She’s not interested in me.”

“But she would be interested in me?”

“Hunters like you? Always.”

That was curious, but Miranda wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity for a free lunch.

Miranda waffled a bit longer, knowing he was going to hold the doctor’s location hostage. “I don’t think I can really help you. That’s not exactly my profession.”

“You don’t have to do anything. It’s enough to have you close.”

Her animal need kept her from leaving. “I’m not touching you.”

“That’s fine. You don’t need to.” He moved away from the window. His front door swung open and he set out a chair for her. “You won’t even have to look.” He extinguished the light, cloaking himself in darkness. The chairs were facing each other and far too close for comfort.

She sat down begrudgingly. Mostly so he wouldn’t see the way her thighs were pressing together. All she could see was a dim outline of him. But she could hear his breath, and the rustle of his clothes as he opened his pants.

As he began stroking himself, images flooded her mind of crawling toward him mouth first, spit filling her mouth. She swallowed hard and crossed her legs. “Just hurry up.”

She tried to distract herself by looking at the moon, the only point of interest available. But it made her blood pulse to stare it it.

“Can you take them off?”

“Take what off?”

“Your shoes.”

She grumbled and fidgeted. Her instinct was to stand up and kick him square in the balls. But that instinct had been completely overruled by filthy lust. “Whatever. It’s just my fucking feet.”

His breathing sped up as soon as she had stripped off her shoes and socks.

The sound of his stroking became wet and she had a visceral reaction to the sound. A moan crept out of her mouth and she quickly cleared her throat to mask it.

Her feet crept forward, into the shadowy barrier between them, willing something to happen.

“Can I touch them?”

Miranda said nothing but didn’t pull away either. Gilbert cautiously leaned forward, watching for a reaction. When his hand wrapped around her ankle, it was still wet and sticky. She shivered in disgust.

He resumed the act, one hand on his cock, the other wrapped around her ankle, kneading her skin. When she tried to pull back, he gripped her tighter.

With each stroke, a power was building up within him, a feral heat.

He’s going to rape me. Her mind whipped back to the doll keeper and her hand shot into her pants.

There was a brief moment where the traces of his form that she could see in the shadow seemed to grow to beastly proportions.

But then he came and the moment passed, devolving into normal human gasping and moaning.

Each rope of cum that splashed her foot sent her into convulsions, her insides broiled.

As he settled, the beastly energy expired and passed. And with it she finally got control of her body. She pulled her foot free and stood up, her fingers still soaking wet from her pussy. To preserve some sense of self, she turned her personal revulsion on him.

“You’re disgusting.”

As promised, he gave her directions to the doctor’s last whereabouts, and Miranda hurried off to get some distance from Gilbert.

In her rush, she’d put her shoes on before cleaning off, so a splatter of jism was still stuck to her ankle, seeping into her skin. Even that small amount was so concentrated that it was causing her body to react. It was a testament to how far gone Gilbert was that a brief moment in his presence had turned her into a walking pillar of lust.

What she needed was a cure, so she marched over the bridge into the next district over. No plan, and no concern for the creatures watching her.

———

The cloud of need obscuring her thoughts cleared just in time to hear the pad of running feet behind her. She turned and struck at the creature leaping from the shadows.

It yelped once and continued flying past her, landing in a broken heap.

She was still wiping away its blood from her face when a pack of similar canines emerged and surrounded her.

She raised her spear, but faltered.

“Oh come on. Get out of here. I don’t want to fight a bunch of dogs.”

They growled and advanced, watching the sway of her spear.

She was still considering it when a hound dove from behind and sunk its teeth into her calf.

She screamed in pain and struck out, but the spear was far too long for close quarters combat. The others sprung forward, each getting their own mouthful of meat, biting and subduing her. Each attempt to break free only made them sink their teeth in further.

Now that she had a close look at them, these weren’t normal dogs, at least not any breed she’d ever seen before. Hairless, with a demonic tint. They looked hungry, but they held her fast, waiting for some unknown signal.

While they had her subdued, a figure walked out of the shadows. “Easy there, pups.”

One by one they released their hold on her, leaving Miranda in a heap, bleeding from several bite wounds. Miranda sat up and got a better look at the woman who had come to her rescue. Tall, long coat, with a large burn mark across one eye, extending to her hair line.

“Aye, you’re still alive, right? Sorry about the terrible welcome. My boys get territorial.” As she got close, the woman’s eyes locked on the medical bracelet still around Miranda’s wrist. “You’re a hunter?”

“That’s… what they tell me.”

“Hmm. Quite a catch.” She went to each dog in turn, patting their head and scratching between the ears. They sat obediently, slobbering and watching her. “See? They’re not so bad.” But then he saw the dead hound laying in the road.

Miranda rubbed the painful bite marks on her arms. “Sorry about your dog, Miss…”

“Call me Yora. Don’t worry about it. I don’t blame you.” She helped Miranda to her feet. “They’re easy enough to replace.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You hurt?”

“A little.” The wounds in her leg were especially aching, enough that standing was difficult.

“My training ground is right around the corner. How about I patch you up?”

Yora led her to an open-air base of operations in a courtyard surrounded by abandoned buildings. In the center was a large dog cage, suitable enough for her entire pack to fit at once.

When she whistled, the dogs all filed into the cage and stayed there despite the door being unlatched. They all watched, slobbering, as their owner attended to Miranda’s wounds with her robust supply of first aid.

“I don’t suppose you’re a doctor.”

“Not really. Patch up the dogs whenever they run afoul of the beasts out there. Practically a vet out of necessity.”

At Yora’s urging, Miranda took off her shoes and rolled up her pant leg to get at the worst of the bites. But she got nervous at the thought of the woman realizing that one foot was caked in drying cum.

“I’m actually out here because I’m looking for someone to treat me.”

“Ah, you mean you’re looking for the doctor.”

“Is there only one?”

“Only one person would claim to be a doctor around here.” She tapped the bracelet around Miranda’s wrist. “And I’m sure she’d be interested in talking to a hunter like you.”

“That’s what I hear. Do you know where she is now?”

“No, but I have something that might help you with that problem of yours.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve worked with the doctor in the past. She left me some special medicine, back when I still had a hunter rooming with me.” Yora stood up and went to her cabinet of supplies, pulling out a glass jar full of bulbous goo-filled pods. Yora plucked one out and handed it to Miranda. “Bottoms up.”

“Do I eat this?”

A willingness to take any treatment offered her was exactly the situation that got her into this mess, and Miranda still had not learned.

She threw one into her mouth, considering how to swallow it, when the ‘pill’ burst, filling her throat with a thick, viscous goo. She waved for something to drink when choking it down dry didn’t work.

Yora handed her a glass and she chugged it down, though the drink he gave her was almost as thick.

She slapped her thigh as she finally got it down. “Gimme two more.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t let me think about it, just give me more.”

Yora dropped two more of the little pods into her hand and she gobbled them down right away, along with most of the drink.

When the whole mess was down, she already felt better.

“Tastes awful, but better than most medicine I’ve taken.” Miranda considered the drink as she licked her lips. “What is this? Some kind of milk?”

“Something to help puppies grow up strong.”

“I’m sorry?” It wasn’t until this moment that she realized that Yora was barely suppressing a deep grin. It was a hungry look that made Miranda think she should put on her shoes and get going, even if many of her dog bites were still bleeding.

“It was a shame when the last hunter finally gave out. I got some good litters out of her.” She scooped up Miranda’s spear and tossed it out of reach.

A hot, wet bolt shot through Miranda. She had to steady herself on the chair for the way her thighs were compulsively pressing together. This was even worse than when she was with Gilbert.

“What the fuck is happening?”

Yora kicked Miranda out of her chair. “I can’t believe you took three. I thought this would be a struggle.” She gave a sharp whistle to signal the dogs.

Even if Miranda had still been armed, she wouldn’t have been able to fight with the aphrodisiacs sending her body into fits.

The dogs burst from the cage, grabbing her once again in their jaws, pulling her back toward the cage.

“You fucking psycho. I’m going to kill you.”

“I wouldn’t get so rowdy, it might upset the dogs.”

Miranda reached weakly for anything to hold onto, to keep from being pulled into the cage. But any time she managed to get a grip, Yora would stamp on her hands, until she finally crossed the threshold and Yora locked her inside with the pack, securing a padlock on the door.

Now that the struggle was over, the dogs sat surrounding Miranda, who was now fighting the urges, her fist pressed against her crotch, eyes dilating madly. “Gonna fucking kill you, crazy bitch.”

“Now, now. The only bitch here is you.”

Yora left to throw away Miranda’s spear then returned soon after with a bucket of meaty sludge. It was feeding time. With a pleased smile on her face as she added one of the aphrodisiac capsules to the bucket of slop. Then she thought for a moment and added a second. “Might as well make a party of it.”

That slop was dumped into a series of feeding bowls, the malformed beasts jumping excitedly, ready to lap it up.

Miranda was backed into the corner of the cage, struggling against the mind-erasing lust. It had for the moment eclipsed her rage. “I can’t take this. Please, you have to let me out.”

“Oh don’t be silly.” She pushed the bowls into the cage and the hounds fed, horrible sounds filling the cage as they gobbled it. “You still have to pay me back for the dog you killed. That’s only fair, right?”

“What?”

“You’re new so it’ll take some time to get you acclimated. But I’m sure it won’t be long before you giving me a nice big litter of pups.”

It wasn’t long before the chemicals worked their magic on the beasts as well. Then their interest in Miranda changed.

She kicked at one of the hounds inspecting her, earning a pained yelp. But as soon as she did, they all turned to her, baring their teeth.

“You’d better stay friendly. One more move like that and they’ll eat you alive. And nobody wants that.”

Miranda gritted her teeth as they began licking every bit of exposed skin they could. Feet, hands, face, neck, her belly when her clothing rode up. The worst thing was the smell of them, a smell that her body was reacting to.

She recoiled in disgust when something hard and wet touched her hand. Despite the warning she fought back and soon a strong set of jaws closed on her throat, holding her down tight.

Silently she prayed that the beast would just rip out her throat so she could get out of here. But they had no need of blood. While she was still choking for air, a beast mounted her leg and began humping furiously.

Miranda let out a sorrowful wail, catching one last sight of Yora’s smiling face through the crowd of beasts.

———

Through the night they took turns rubbing against her to satiate themselves, preventing her from ever sleeping.

After the third dose of hound sperm seeped through her clothing, she lost the fight for self control and began masturbating in search of any shred of relief.

Fighting to keep them from getting their snouts into her crotch, but the rest of her body was an open target for beast cum. When the exhaustion got to be too much, it was easier to let them hump her ass and pray they never figured out how to get her pants off.

Late into the night, a cock filled her hand and she couldn’t stop from stroking it. And when it came all over her hand, she used that same hand to touch herself, gagging in disgust but unable to resist. Hit with a fresh wave of self-hatred whenever she actively wondered what it would taste like.

During a brief intermission, the dogs were sleeping, but it was a matter of time before the next feeding sent them into a fresh frenzy.

At the first opportunity she crawled to the door and fiddled with the lock, but her fingers were too covered in filth and the angle made it impossible to see the dial combination of the padlock.

She had to give up the meager escape attempt and dipped her hand into her pants for another nasty jilling session. Still searching for the relief that would not come.

This couldn’t go on like this.

She was suppressing her moans, trying not to wake the dogs, when she realized one of them was already up. And it was watching her.

There was one hound, larger than the rest, that had mostly been hanging back during all these maddening humping sessions. But now its eyes were locked on her.

No matter how furiously she masturbated, she knew there was only one way to satiate herself.

“You’re going to breed me, aren’t you?”

The hound grumbled and crept closer.

With a shaking hand, Miranda held eye contact and reached down to unbutton her pants. She sobbed with final surrender as she stripped off her soiled clothing. The only consolation was that Yora wasn’t around to see her like this.

While she was pulling off her shirt, the hound jammed its snout between her legs, taking a taste.

“Wait. No, dont.” Even as she said it, she was widening her legs for him.

When the beast had had enough, it mounted her, pressing her to the floor.

From this position she got a much closer look at this hound. The more she saw, the less it looked like a dog. Too many teeth, strange eyes, sickly skin. But this was definitely a dog cock sliding into her.

She averted her eyes, disgusted at every image of the beast on top of her, and the way it’s saliva kept dripping onto her face. If only he’d mounted her from behind. But the sudden image of her being mounted like a proper breeding bitch sent her into orgasmic spasms.

She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the moans and cries rising unbidden out of her. But those fingers were covered in the pungent leavings of the beasts and soon she was sucking her fingers clean as her legs bobbed in the air.

As it pounded into her, her moans became louder and impossible to hide. Convulsing at the feeling of the entire length being driven into her with animal fury.

She was finally broken from the ecstasy when a light turned on in the adjoining building, signaling Yora’s return.

Panic got her moving, terrified at being seen in this state. When she tried to dislodge the creature currently inside her, it got irate and clamped its jaws on her neck to hold her in place.

She reached for anything to hide her shame but her soiled clothes had now become a bed for a sleeping dog.

All she could do was hold on for dear life as the beast pounded its knot against her tight pussy, trying to break her open.

“Oh my. Already? You’re even sluttier than the last girl I put in there.”

Miranda tried to spit out one last death threat, but couldn’t get out any words as her body gave into a mind-erasing orgasm.

———

During the next feeding time Miranda got her own bowl of the meaty slop, and she ate it like a good puppy. Then she lapped up a full bowl of the strange milk. She wanted a strong litter after all.

The corruption had fully broken her mind. Miranda was an exhausted mess, ass up for the use of whatever mutated hound had the inclination to mount her. Face down on the dirty floor of the cage.

Every time one of them finished inside her, she felt a burning hot pain in her belly. It was like her biology was forcibly changing to accommodate her new partners.

In between the furious breeding festivals that were brought on by meal time, Miranda laid among the pack, one dog cock growing against her. Without a thought in her broken mind, she reached out and stroked it with both hands.

Outside the cage, Yora was barely a shadow to her. “Such a good breeding bitch you turned out to be. I did you a favor.” She gave the slop a good stir. “Won’t be long now.”

Yora looked at the food bucket, working the breeding schedule over in her mind. “I should probably go get more of your formula. I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Yora left Miranda to fetch supplies from the adjoining building. Resigned to her fate, Miranda kept stroking until the dog sprayed a load of semen across her modest chest. Her life was as good as over. She’d failed. Best to just let them fuck her until she lost all sense of humanity.

“Well, you’re a bit of a mess, aren’t you?”

Miranda was woken from her daze by an unfamiliar voice. A new woman had entered the courtyard while Yora was gone. Miranda squinted up at the woman but had been driven too delirious by the night’s activities to be able to assemble any words.

A couple of the dogs woke to stare at the new woman, but did not bark. Not out of obedience but some form of fear.

The woman pulled a large vial from her coat and uncorked it. “You see this? This is poison.” She dumped it into the feeding bucket and gave it a quick stir. “It’s very potent. Make sure you get a nice big helping and I’ll meet you back at the haven. It’s easier than trying to pick that lock.”

The woman in white turned on her heels and left, disappearing from sight moments before Yora returned. “Are my babies ready for dinner time?”

The dogs all jumped to attention, slavering for the food, unaware of the danger.

Miranda looked at her own bowl, on her hands and knees, not eating at first.

There was some part of her that said she should speak up, warn the dog trainer about the poison to preserve her pack of daddies. But the last flame of her resistance was still safe within her.

And so she waited.

The poison acted fast, the smallest among the dogs collapsing hard.

Yora was shocked into silence, but then panic overtook her as the rest of her dogs began dropping, even the hugest of them struck down.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Yora kicked the bars, screaming with rage.

But all Miranda did was to stare at her, old cum drying on her face and chest. And without a word, she bent down and began to eat.

———

For the second time, the grip of death released her. Miranda woke sputtering and coughing, naked in the garden of white flowers. The memory of the poison that constricted her throat imprinted on her, but now replaced by a handful of white petals.

Once again, the maid was waiting for her, unmoved by this miracle.

“The doctor requests that you be clean before the examination.”

“Doctor…?” Miranda couldn’t manage any more than that and let the maid lead her to the bath, already drawn and ready for her.

When she finished washing off the layers of muck and cum, a simple smock was waiting for her to dress in. And when she stepped out, the woman in white was ready for her, flanked by the maid.

“Good morning, hunter. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. But I was informed you were in need of my services.”

“Who are you?”

The woman pulled a flask from her coat and took a quick sip. “I’m Doctor Isobel. I’m sure you already met my very agreeable assistant, Annalise.”

“Annalise?”

The maid didn’t move, waiting for her next instruction.

“What, did you never ask her for a name? Shame, shame.” Isobel opened a small case of syringes and vials, loading up a shot of something green. “Now come get your medicine.”

Miranda was still too shell-shocked to resist as Isobel swabbed her arm and injected her.

The chemical shot through Miranda’s bloodstream, making her itch from inside, but it at least woke her up, focusing her senses. “What did you just inject me with?”

“Something to keep you sensible for a moment.” The doctor laid out a small set of cards on the nearest table. With practiced motions she pricked Miranda’s finger and applied her blood to the cards in turn. “Oh dear. It’s a good thing I found you when I did.”

“Can you cure me?”

“Cure is a silly word. Now get up. While you’ve still got your wits, let’s go get my clinic back.” Isobel motioned to the maid. “Annalise, rifle.”

Miranda let herself be led to the clinic she’d originally woke up in, and that she’d been chased out of by a monster.

Isobel kicked over a pail in the corner to announce their arrival to the creature in the next room. “See? this is what happens to hunters when they don’t take their medicine.”

The monster appeared in the doorway, filling it. Snarling.

Doctor Isobel raised her rifle. “Get the fuck out of my clinic. You’re stinking up the place.” She fired, an earsplitting crack and a plume of smoke erupted from the firearm.

The shot landed in the monster’s chest and it fell back, writhing and roaring. Isobel was still loading another cartridge when the creature leapt out the nearest window and fled into the night.

“That was easy enough.” She tossed the gun to Annalise and moved to unlock a door on the far side of the room. “Now let’s get to work.”

Inside the room was an intimidating contraption. Needles, diodes, stirrups, wires, tubes of chemicals.

“Take off your clothes so we can clean you out.”

The machine was terrifying, and the thought of actually climbing into those stirrups sent a chill down her spine. “I’m not getting in that thing.”

“This is the only way we’re going to cure you of that corruption.”

“But I’m fine now. You gave me a shot.”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “Annalise, get my samples. If that beast didn’t smash and drink them all.”

The maid fetched a tray of vials, each one filled with white fluids. Doctor Isobel examined them and then pulled out one of the vials. “Canine.” Then she loaded a drop of the thick fluid onto her finger.

As soon as the vial was opened Miranda could smell it, a smell that woke up the heat within her. “What the fuck is that?”

“Want a taste?” Isobel offered her finger to Miranda.

Her will was already broken and she dove to take Isobel’s finger into her mouth, sucking hard to get it clean. Eyes on fire with anger at making her act this way.

Isobel laughed. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one sucking dog sperm.” She hooked a thumb back towards the hole the beastly hunter had escaped from. “You want to end up like that hunter? That one never set foot in my machine. Only came back here after it was too late.”

The tactic worked and Miranda gladly climbed into the contraption. Clearly she couldn’t trust herself.

As she and the maid strapped her in, Isobel gave Miranda a rundown of how it worked, though a lot of the terminology went over her head. The basic idea of it was easy enough. Combination of injections and electrical shocks to flush the corruption out of her system.

She wasn’t happy about all the straps, and being naked and wide open and vulnerable. As her limbs were bound, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself with a mantra that this was just a normal doctor visit, a mantra that was interrupted when the maid forced open her mouth and jammed a feeding tube down her throat.

As the machine groaned to life and began working the injections through her bloodstream, Miranda’s body writhed, overcome with sensations. Moaning through the tube in her mouth, legs quivering.

Her last solid thought was that this was a mistake. Then the electrical shocks started. Pulses ripping through her sensitive body. Eyes rolling back in her head as she felt more in her body than she ever had before. A full body orgasm so intense it knocked her unconscious.

Once Miranda was fully under, the doctor let her thin facade slip, barely able to hold back the drool that the sight of Miranda inspired in her. “Such a delicious sight. I haven’t had a clean canvas to work on in ages.”

She grabbed the maid, molesting her and twisting her limbs, looking for a reaction. “How about it? Should I make her like you? Or should I do some truly nasty things?”

While Miranda was still comatose and wriggling from the shocks, Isobel forced the maid down onto her knees, tongue already out and waiting to serve. The maid performed her duties while the doctor dreamed of medical atrocities.

———

When Miranda finally recovered from the operation, Isobel was idly rifling through paperwork, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. “Welcome back. Feeling better?”

“I think so.” Miranda’s mind did feel clear for the first time in ages, almost like she was back to normal. The weight of the corruption had lifted off of her.

The doctor reached for the same vial of dog sperm and uncorked it. “Let’s test. Want a sip?” She waved it at Miranda who recoiled away.

“Ew, no. Get that away from me, you psycho.”

“See? All better.” She recorked it and put the vial away, whispering to herself. “For now.”

“Does this mean I’m in debt to you now, too?”

The doctor laughed it off. “The opportunity to tinker with that body of yours is the only payment I require.”

Miranda didn’t believe that for a second, but she wasn’t going to argue with finally having her senses back. “I don’t plan to let that happen again.”

“Of course not. I trust your ironclad will. But a word of warning.” The doctor stood and examined Miranda, pinching her skin, checking her pupils. “You can’t pull the corruption out of someone without side effects. After a procedure, something has to change.”

“What sort of change?”

“Physical, mental. Wildly different based on the person. But the more times you run through the machine, the worse it will be.

Now that she thought about it, there was a strange lingering tingle in her jaw and feet. Would have been nice to be informed of side effects before she agreed.

“Some long term patients report new sexual deviations. New fetishes. But I’m sure you’re such a strong minded individual that you won’t have any such troubles.” The doctor picked up a crate of vials. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to put this place back together. Get my other machines working. Come back when you need more work done.”

“But what should I actually do now? How do I get out of this town?”

“Fuck less. Kill more. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

As she left a cold breeze blew through the window that the former hunter had used as an escape.

Annalise remained in the room, looking slightly more tussled than usual.

Miranda looked out the open window, traces of hair and blood marking the beast’s passing. “Am I going to end up like that hunter?”

The maid finally broke her silence. “No. You are destined for a much more pleasing form.” Then she continued standing there with that same cloudy dullness in her eyes, like her soul had been scooped out.

This was the first time that Miranda could see a future where she was in the maid’s place. Docile, servile.

Chapter Text

Without the corruption that had been driving her mad, Miranda was in no hurry to get back out into the streets. And being free of the corruption was such a relief. Even when she touched herself, it felt like normal, healthy masturbation. Not a single intrusive thought of dogs or beasts. But lounging around was not a luxury she had.

Her time in the dog cage had pushed her debt into a critical state. Until now she’d managed to tread water, but unarmed she wasn’t fit to go out hunting or brave the village looking for the rest of the Matron’s staff.

The dog trainer had thrown away her spear somewhere in town, so all she had left was a pistol that couldn’t be fired and a closet full of dresses she refused to wear.

The few times she considered venturing out unarmed, she didn’t get far before a winged creature swooped across the sky or some other unspeakable horror revealed itself and she’d turned on her heels and gone back home.

When the Matron got tired of waiting, she sent one of her guards to fetch Miranda. He found her on the way back from one of these cautious excursions, appearing out of the shadows before she could disappear inside. She barely got two words into an excuse before the hulking man grabbed her and dragged her away.

Miranda was brought back to the cathouse for a private meeting with the Matron. The entire time the Matron spoke, Miranda’s arms were held behind her back by one of the goon’s meaty paws, the other holding her neck tight. It was a clear, constant reminder that he could snap her at any time.

The threat of death wouldn’t hold much sway, but horrible pain was still a strong motivator. And if she resisted, it would have been an easy task to break her in ways that would never stop hurting.

“My dear, you have been bereft of your payments.” The Matron was arranging something on a silver plate in front of her, dress practically falling off.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do without a weapon.”

“If you lost it, that’s your fault.” She dipped her head down to take a snort from the plate in front of her, giving a deep view down her vast cleavage as she did. After a tremor moved through her, the Matron returned to her business mode. “Besides, hunting and killing are not quite what I need from you anymore. Many of my employees have begun to return under their own volition.”

“So how am I supposed to make your money back?”

“Same way everyone else does, by working.”

Miranda tensed and the guard tightened his grip on her. “Are you trying to make me into a whore?”

“If I coerced every woman here, think of the terrible work environment that would foster. It would ruin the atmosphere, too.” The Matron took another snort. “You pick a level of work that makes you comfortable.”

“No amount of work makes me comfortable.”

The Matron rolled her eyes. “You can be a bartender. No problem. Easy work. But easy work pays a shit wage. We all know that.”

“This fucking sucks.”

“You’re the one who signed the contract.” She crossed her legs. “Keep in mind that if your debt becomes too egregious, we will have to take extended measures to return your value. And if that happens, you get to see what we do in the basement.”

As soon as she said it, Miranda felt an erection pressing against her backside. She did not intend to find out why that inspired such a reaction.

“Fine, I’ll be your goddamn bartender.”

“I knew you’d see reason.” She rubbed her nose to clear any offending speck. “Francis, get her outfit ready.”

“Outfit?”

“We have a dress code, dear.”

In the moments before she was led out, Miranda got a look at the tray the Matron had been snorting from. It wasn’t a powder, it was a liquid, cloudy white.

Down in the changing room, Miranda was suffering. The outfit was a couple steps away from being a bunny suit. An ensemble that screamed ‘skanky tart.’

And as if it weren’t revealing enough, it had been tailored for someone with a much larger chest than hers. Consequently it felt like if she leaned the wrong way it would fully expose her.

She threw her coat over her shoulders, holding it tight to maintain some level of modesty. It hung long on her but not long enough to hide her legs. She had to trust that being behind the bar would prevent her from dying of embarrassment.

They’d left her a pair of strappy shoes. The height of the heel wasn’t nearly as extreme as some of the others in this room, but still far beyond what she’d ever worn before.

The longer she looked at the shoes, the thirstier she got.

She’d hoped that the doctor’s procedure would have also cured her of this nagging girly compulsion, but it remained unchanged.

She opted to go out barefoot, carrying the shoes with her.

This was her first glimpse inside the establishment. Between the spectral, dim lighting and the music creeping through the walls, the cathouse had an atmosphere that felt like being wrapped in warm smoke.

Sweaty, half naked women dancing on a low stage, a series of shadowy patrons. Every now and then one of them would whisper in the ear of an employee and be led to the other side of the floor, where a wide set of curtains marked the barrier into a new wing of the building.

The job itself was easy enough. Some strange ingredients, but it was all about following instructions. That and averting her eyes from whatever hint of a sex act was occurring around the stage.

The patrons seemed to be keeping their urges in check, but they were all barely removed from the villagers and beasts that roam the streets. What she really wanted was to grab an axe and hack her way through the entirety of the clientele.

When she got over the initial anxiety of the job, she was able to breathe and let her gaze wander. What drew her in was the dancing women on stage. Every bit of exposed flesh inspired a need in her.

Thinking of her girlfriend, and wondering what she’s doing right now.

“You like what you see?”

Miranda was shaken from her needy daze by a customer sidling up to the bar. “What?”

This one was at least cleaner than most of the people around here. He was looking her over with a smug grin. “You like girls, hunter?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Hey, no need to get hostile. Just curious.” He mimed pushing something into his lap. “When a stuck up bitch like you gets a cock in her mouth, it’s even better when they’re a lesbian.”

“Fuck off. I’m not for sale, pal. So order a drink or leave me alone.”

“You know it’s a shame how many of you hunter types get swindled in the same way.” He swiped a bottle from the bar and took a swig. “Let me guess, the Matron has got you on the hook for some cheap weaponry.”

Miranda fumed, crossing her arms. “She does this a lot?”

“To anybody that will fall for it.” He gave her a wink. “Now, my weapons on the other hand, they’re the real deal.”

“You make weapons?”

“Build, modify, maintain. I do all that shit, and I charge a hell of a lot less than your Matron.”

She didn’t like this guy, but if nothing else, he was an option. And options were what she needed more than anything else. “I’ll think about it.”

He nodded solemnly. “The tall building near the stone bridge. Come see me when you get tired of selling your ass. Bring that junky thing the Matron gave you and I’ll see what magic I can work on it.” The weaponsmith took the bottle without paying and Miranda let him go.

As her shift wore on, Miranda found herself focusing more and more on the pair of heels they’d left for her, now tucked behind the bar.

The compulsion got to her and as stealthily as she could, she slipped her feet into the shoes. As soon as the straps were hugging her a deep moan escaped her mouth, quicker than she could stifle it. Then the thought that filled her time was of being on that stage, exposed.

As soon as a patron approached the bar she kicked out of them in a hurry, hoping the dim lights would hide the deep flush spreading through her.

After her shift, Miranda went back upstairs to meet with the Matron, who was sucking down glassfuls of the same liquid she was snorting earlier.

“There’s our new favorite employee.” She totaled up the pitiful amount Miranda had made for her entire shift, a tiny scratch at the total. “Doesn’t working an honest living feel nice?”

“Yeah, I guess. Whatever.”

“See? Maybe we won’t have to cut off your arms and legs after all.” The Matron wiped her mouth and licked her fingers. “You know, if you’d given one of our illustrious customers a handjob, you would have made five times what you made all night pouring drinks.”

“Right. I should go.”

“Think about it, dear.”

And she did think about it, but what she thought was that she had to get her weapon back immediately so she could get back to hunting. She couldn’t risk becoming corrupted like that again, the way she was in that dog cage.

———

As quietly as she could, she made her way back to the part of town where she’d lost her weapon. Yuna the dog trainer had left and thrown it away somewhere. It stood to reason that it was still nearby. And if she couldn’t find it, then she’d just have to start picking up sharp-looking rocks and make due.

Near where she first met the dog pack, Miranda found a deep ditch that seemed to lead into a sewer. Yuna hadn’t been gone that long and this had to be the most likely candidate to throw out something as large as that spear.

She crept down the sides, searching for any sign of it. Despite the looks, it did not smell like a sewer at all down here, more like fermenting fruit. This could have been stagnant river water. And that was exactly what she kept telling herself as she took off her shoes and rolled up her pant legs.

She waded out into the shallow muck to get a better look. But while there were signs of random trash, there was nothing that looked like her weapon.

Out in the middle of the muck filled ditch, she was about to give up when her foot sank into the one part of the river that was alive.

The sudden change in texture alerted her right away, but any concern was overshadowed by the sudden jolt of sensation as it bit her. The slime didn’t have any teeth and couldn’t do any damage. It’s only means of self defense was a series of stings that amounted to an aggressive tickle.

“Ugh. Fuck!” Miranda jumped away, nearly falling over into the muck. Now that she knew what was down here, she could see the outline of the slime clearly in the thick water, quivering harmlessly.

She was ready to flee, but didn’t think this living puddle could have hurt her if it tried. Even when it bit her, it had been a rush of intense feeling. But not bad.

She considered it for a long time, still marinating in the muck before she reached her foot toward it again, curious.

The slime met her skin and commenced another round of nibbling, which sent her into spasms of intense feeling.

“Oh, fuck.”

She was bracing for it to turn out to be a jellyfish and actually wound her, but the slime was benign. And this felt good.

She needed a little more, and after the mania of working in the cathouse, she deserved some kind of release. “This is so stupid.”

There was a stone block rising from the muck that made for a dry seat. It was also discreetly out of view of anyone that might wander by. She sat down, stirring the muck with both feet, coaxing the slime.

It took the bait and latched onto her, capturing both feet in its body at once.

Miranda went into a fresh set of full body spasms, overwhelmed by the feeling of it gumming her feet, sliding between her toes.

Dimly she was aware that this level of sensitivity wasn’t normal, and this hadn’t started until she’d gotten into the doctor’s damn machine. She’d hoped this was a temporary side effect, but what if this never goes away?

Terrified at the idea of changes like this happening every time the doctor touched, even as she was working her hand down her pants.

She was still jilling herself hard when another denizen of this sewer approached. Miranda couldn’t hear it’s tiny, wet strides as she was focused so hard on the conflicted set of fantasies in her head.

The creature that latched onto the back of her head was no slime. She never got a good look at it, but it had tentacles, like a small squid. Miranda shrieked and tried to tear it off, but her hand got caught in her pants, which gave it just enough time to get a strong grasp on her, suckers adhering to her skin.

Once it had gotten hold, it was too slippery to pull off, her hands sliding off it.

“Get off my you little shit.” Still suffering the intensity of the slime gnawing on her feet, she failed to realize that this creature was much more of a threat.

The last warning she got was a sudden sharp prick at the base of her skull. Before she could process what was about to happen, the creature jammed the entire length of its stinger into the back of her head. The excruciating pain only lasted a fraction of a second before the toxin coating it took effect, numbing her at the insertion point.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as the creature probed inside her, searching for that one button that would make her pliable.

As a new shot of hot fluid entered her brain, Miranda blacked out.

———

Miranda woke up in a sitting position, drifting up from a dreamy haze. The first thing she noticed was the sun, a sun she thought she’d never see again, drenching her in warm light.

She felt a wonderful feeling from her feet and looked down to see that they were pressed into the most beautiful set of high heels she’d ever seen. But that wasn’t all that had changed. Her entire body had been shaped and molded, poured into a skimpy, lacy dress. Breasts heaving and full with a new weight.

She was still marveling over this body when she noticed the figure standing in the room, watching her. He was a vague shadow, but still seemed familiar.

“Daddy?” The image of her father clicked into focus. “Oh Daddy, I’m so glad you’re here. I was having such a bad dream.”

Her father moved a step closer.

“In the dream I was such a bad girl.” Her hands roamed over her figure, savoring her soft, fuckable body. This was what she was meant for. “Am I pretty, Daddy? Am I pretty enough to be your good little whore?”

In response he undid his pants and pulled out his member, throbbing with heat.

“Oh Daddy, you’re so big.” She opened her mouth wide. “Please give it to me, Daddy.”

But instead of taking her mouth he walked behind her, holding her shoulders.

“Daddy? Are you going to be naughty?”

His cock pressed against the base of her skull, where a new opening had appeared, just for him.

As he pressed inside, Miranda was sent into fits of orgasmic glee, being filled up in a way she could have never imagined. This was so much nicer than that awful dream where she hadn’t been living every moment to serve her Daddy. What a horrible existence that would be.

“Harder, Daddy. Fuck me harder!” Every thrust caused her to lose control, desperate for more. Toes curling, eyes rolling back in her head. “Ruin me, Daddy. Fuck your little girl’s brains out!”

And if she’s a good enough girl, maybe he’d get her pregnant. Fill her full of those big, juicy… eggs? Was that right?

She’d lost most of her senses by the time a new figure appeared, a woman in black who was painted in far more detail than her father had been. The sunlight was bending around her.

“Mommy? Is that you?”

Miranda had been reduced to a needy receptacle, so when her ‘mother’ offered her something long and very hard, Miranda opened her mouth to accept it. It’s length slipped inside and Miranda had another set of full body orgasms.

Then the gun went off.

———

Miranda returned to life with a start, screaming in panic.

“What the fuck?!”

She reached to the back of her head and found it sealed again, healed. Her body was as it was supposed to be. Sky still dark, surrounded by the white flowers that heralded her return from a violent death.

The disturbing father fantasy was already fading and she remembered the creature in the sewer.

She stumbled inside to get a meal and try to forget what had just happened inside her mind, praying that those thoughts were only implanted by the creature. But how would a monster even be able to invent something so vivid?

Miranda ate angry, sawing too hard through the roast while Annalise the maid looked on.

As soon as she’d finished the meal, Miranda pushed the plate away and slammed her forehead into the table.

“Do you require any other assistance?”

“What I require is my weapon back so I can kill every goddamn thing that moves in this fucking town.”

The maid blinked once. “Very well.” Then she turned and walked out of the dining room.

“Where are you going? Oh whatever.” Miranda went to bathe and wash off the remains of the sewer much that were still clinging to her, even through death.

Miranda dug through the massive wardrobe, but couldn’t find a satisfactory outfit. Nothing in here was sorted, and even though she didn’t want to go out in a dress, she wasn’t finding many alternatives.

Eventually she had to settle for the most modest ankle length dress she could find, with a coat over the top of it to distract from any perceived girlishness.

Underneath a pile of dresses and petticoats was a heavy chest secured with a padlock and she determined there must be something useful in there. She stole some kitchen implements and pried it open, the rusty lock popping off easily. But when she opened it to find the treasure inside, she was treated to a frightening collection of sex toys. Dildos, strap-ons, lubes, bondage implements.

In a frustrated rage she slammed the chest closed. “Why is everyone here so goddamn horny?”

She sat on her bed, grinding her teeth. She was never going to touch anything in that chest. Any indulgence would just be a surrender to this hell hole, and she was determined to prove she was stronger than the sickness.

Miranda was pacing downstairs when the maid returned, carrying Miranda’s spear. Annalise herself was dirty and looked as if she’d been dragged through a ditch, but otherwise unharmed.

“How did you get that?” Miranda took the spear back. It was definitely hers, but it was dirty and dull. It might well have been sitting out for an eon based on its condition. “Fuck it. I’ve got work to do.”

Miranda dressed and geared up for a venture into the dark.

The weaponsmith was easy enough to find. As soon as she wandered nearby, a shot rang out and cracked the ground in front of her feet.

“Oh, is that you, doll?” The weaponsmith waved away the thick gun smoke.

Miranda held her spear aloft. “I need you to fix this.”

He waved her up. “Come on then, before the beasts get you.”

While he worked on the blade, Miranda sat watching the dark lands outside. She had a much better view from up here than she’d ever had before, which really hammered home how little of this land she’d actually seen. From a large cathedral a light was burning, and Miranda found herself wondering if the people there were any less deranged than in the village.

“What a mess. The mechanisms are all busted.”

“What mechanisms? It’s a spear.”

“Nothing around here is just one thing.” With a grunt he pulled the the spear in half turning it into a short sword and a long sheath. “Ugh, there’s so much blood dried up in here.”

He went to work with practiced hands, disassembling it into parts she didn’t know it had.

As he worked, she set the empty pistol down on his workbench. “Can you do something about this?”

He glanced at it briefly. “That your getaway ticket?”

“I suppose. Can you load it?”

“Sure. Sure. It’s gonna cost you though.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

When he was done he demonstrated how the switch function worked. When it wasn’t a long spear, it was a short sword and sheath.

Miranda shrugged. “Seems overly complicated.”

“Sword for close engagements. Spear when you’re up against something really big.”

“How big of a creature do you think I’m going to be fighting?”

He gave the blade one last look and folded it up. “How about you stroll on down to Charcoal Street and find out how big they get?”

After he’d finished loading the pistol, he wiped his hands with a rag. “About that payment…”

“It’s going to have to go on my tab, I don’t-”

“Ain’t no tab here, doll.” He stood up and backed her against the wall. “You think I want money? What am I gonna spend it on? The cathouse? Why when I can cut out the middle man?”

She knew that this might end this way, but she was having trouble forming a response. There was a lingering cloudiness in her brain ever since the creature in the sewer had stung her.

When she didn’t respond, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her down into a sitting position, holding her still as he unbuckled his belt.

She recoiled from him, eyeing the pistol far out of reach, wishing for the strength to fight back. “You disgusting piece of shit.”

“Shut up, bitch. We both know this is why you came here.”

Miranda flinched and closed her eyes as he pulled his cock out.

She clamped her mouth shut, but that made him rub it all over her face. “What’s the matter? You prefer pussy?” One hand tight on the back of her head as he rubbed his cock against her lips.

He pinched her nose closed, until the lack of air made her part her lips for breath. As soon as he was able, he pried his way inside, pressing in and sliding against her tongue. She slapped his thigh in distress as the thick shaft filled her mouth.

As he used her face like a sex toy, her eyes were burning with hate, wishing him a thousand deaths.

“Ha, I love that look in your eyes. Nothing better than a stuck up bitch finally getting hers.”

He pinned her to the wall with his dick, driving it in deeper. She gagged and choked, sending fresh drool spilling out of her mouth and soaking the front of her shirt.

“By this time next week, you’ll be begging for more and calling me Daddy.”

As soon as he said the word, her mind was flooded by memories of the vision she’d seen in the sewer.

I bet this is what Daddy tastes like.

No matter how hard she tried to banish the thought all she could picture was her father being the one fucking her throat.

You’re being such a good girl for Daddy.

Why was this happening? At least with the dogs she’d been under the influence of some chemical. But what was her excuse this time?

She kicked her legs weakly as he sped up, fucking her throat hard.

“Take it. Take it, whore.”

The cum flooded her mouth, hanging thick in her throat. Her face was turning red with the strain when he finally pumped his last shot and let her go.

Miranda doubled over, choking and spitting it out. Heaving as it splattered on the floor below her.

The weaponsmith kicked her in the leg. “Hey, you made a mess.”

She spat empty curses at him as he pressed her face into the floor, rubbing it in the puddle of spit and semen.

“Clean it up.”

All she managed was to stain her cheek and push the mess around with her tongue, until the weaponsmith finally gave up.

“No wonder you need a maid. You’re a terrible home keeper.” He let go of her and went to his work bench, zipping up his pants. As she was glaring, he loaded her gun and spear into a basket pulley system that ran on the outside of the tower, then lowered it to ground level. “Sorry I’m not going to hand you a gun when you’re like this. It’ll be waiting outside.”

Though she was burning with shame and rage, she left without a word, collecting her weapons outside and fleeing into the night.

The anger sat in her belly like hot coals as she veered off the path to home. She had a better destination in mind.

What she needed was a more deserving target of all her rage.

Yora the dog trainer had just finished cleaning out her cage, now bereft of dogs. Already contemplating how to refill it, catch another hunter to use.

She didn’t hear the approaching threat, didn’t know what she was in store for until she reached to close the cage’s gate and her right arm disappeared at the elbow.

Miranda was surprised at how cleanly the blade went through. The weaponsmith did good work.

Yora stared at her stump as it erupted in a spray of blood. She spun to strike back but Miranda attacked again, separating her other arm at the shoulder. Yora stood there screaming with twin geysers of blood until Miranda kicked her backwards into her own cage. Then she locked it while the dog trainer was still struggling to stand.

Yora threw herself against the bars, a squirt of blood marking every impact. “Let me out, you bitch!”

Miranda stood there, watching her stone-faced as Yora tired herself out. The unbelievable amount of blood loss had only slowed her down.

It would have been easy to finish her off, not even a struggle, but leaving her to starve in here would have been sufficiently cruel.

Still she couldn’t just walk away. After the indignity she’d just suffered, Miranda needed more. Something to replace the Daddy in her brain.

“You want me to let you out?”

Yora sat there, heaving and gasping, face gone pale.

“Prove how much you want me to let you go.” Miranda kicked out of her shoes and pushed her bare foot through the bars, offering it. “Lick.”

Yora was grinding her teeth, but the blood loss had drained the fight from her. With hate in her eyes she crawled forward, extending her tongue.

Miranda’s heartbeat increased as the wet tongue caressed her skin. The domination gave her a sudden electric thrill.

In a moment of clarity she realized that hateful look in Yora’s eyes must have been the same look she was giving the weaponsmith as he was jamming his cock in her mouth.

She wasn’t any different from the horrible creatures who called this town home.

That thought left a cold feeling in her gut, one more source of shame and self-hatred.

She hauled back and kicked Yora directly in the eye, knocking her over. Miranda grabbed her things and marched away. “Go ahead and rot in here.”

“You fucking cunt. I’ll kill you!” Yora scrambled to her feet and threw herself against the bars, collapsing to the floor.

On the way back she noticed a dog following her, tongue drooping from its mouth. It didn’t seem to be hunting her. When she got a better look, it resembled Yora’s former pack of beasts. Mostly dog, but not quite. Weird eyes.

“Get out of here. Stop following me.”

The dog panted stupidly, then continued after when she began walking.

Was this some extra pet of Yora’s that wasn’t in the cage that night? It seemed like a runt compared to the rest.

Miranda tried shooing it away but gave up and tried to outrun it home. The spite had gone.

As she neared home, a woman appeared in her path, wearing a dark coat with a motif of crow feathers.

Miranda prepared to draw if she made a move. She wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anyone else tonight. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“My name’s Etcetera.” She pulled off her mask, revealing an attractive face that was too clean to exist in this grimy world. “Though last time you saw me, you called me Mommy.”

“That was you?”

She pointed at the band around Miranda’s wrist. “You’re still wearing that?”

“I couldn’t get it off.”

“It’s a dead giveaway.” She drew a small blade and snipped it from Miranda’s wrist. “If you keep advertising that you’re from outside, you’re going to end up someone’s pet. And then you’re no good to anyone.”

“Sure, whatever you say. I’m going home.”

The woman in black crossed her arms. “This is the thanks I get for saving you?”

“Okay, great. Thanks for blowing my brains out. Can I go now?”

“Hey.” She caught Miranda by the arm. “If I hadn’t showed up, they would have been using you as a breeding factory for weeks. We have enough of a problem with beasts around here without having to deal with another fresh batch of those little squid shits.”

“And that’s my fault?”

“It is your fault. You were the one who went into the damn sewers to get your jollies.”

Miranda was stunned into angry, guilty silence.

“They are your compulsions so you have to deal with them. That’s the only way you’re going to last long enough to get us out of here.”

“You know how to get out of here?”

“Yeah. It’s no secret. But most people aren’t going to tell you because they’d rather knock you up.”

“Then how?”

Etcetera checked the street to make sure they were alone. “You need to kill the right people. And you’ll never find them if you keep hanging around the cathouse.”

“Who are they?”

“I’m working on a hit list but until I’m ready I need to you stay in control.”

Miranda rolled her eyes and tried to leave, but the woman in black pulled her close. There was a scent of bitter flowers surrounding her. “I’m serious. You’re never going to see daylight again if you turn into some slobbering bimbo. When you have those urges, you need to work them out safely.”

Miranda thought briefly of the girls at the cathouse. And how good it would be to rent out a booth and indulge. But that was out of the question. She didn’t need any more debt. And being anywhere near that place made her skin crawl. “Okay smart ass. How? Every goddamn surface in this town is covered in weird cum.”

“You have a doll, use her. That’s what she’s for.”

“Who? The maid?”

“And watch out for that doctor. She doesn’t have your best interests in mind. Though I would hope that you figured that out already.” Etcetera fitted the mask over her face. “I’ll contact you when I have a lead. Until then, keep your indulgences private. Do you understand?”

Without waiting for an answer the woman disappeared into the night, leaving Miranda alone.

Miranda didn’t like her, but she was the first person she’d met that seemed like she knew what was going on around here and actually wanted it to end. As she walked back home, she thought about ‘indulgences’ and how out of control she’d been until now. Maybe that woman had a point.

She wanted to go out and hunt now that she was armed again, but after washing her face Miranda sat at home deep in contemplation.

Before dinner was served, she went outside and found Annalise feeding a piece of meat to the weird dog that had followed her home.

“What are you doing? Don’t feed him. He’ll never leave now.” Miranda chewed her bottom lip. “He’ll probably try to fuck me too.”

A flash of imagery invaded her mind of her being on all fours, beckoning for the dog to mount and breed her. A wave of nausea hit her and she punched herself in the thigh to banish the thought.

For dinner Annalise served her a thick stew, likely containing the same sort of meat she’d fed the dog. Miranda was moody as she ate, considering Etcetera’s warning. And her recommendation.

Her eyes trailed up the maid’s leg, tracing the contour of her stockings.

Her heart began beating hard at the thought of giving in and doing something drastic.

“Come here.”

Annalise obediently moved to her side.

Miranda reached under her dress and grabbed her thigh as a test. No reaction, the same dull haze in her eyes.

Nothing but a warm mannequin.

Touching her thighs turned into grabbing, then molesting the maid. The anger returned fresh and hot. Soon she had pushed the maid to the floor. Fingering her, choking her, spanking, scratching. It wasn’t even lust that drove her, so much as a need to someone else abused.

Then she remembered the chest of toys in her wardrobe.

Miranda found a strap-on that fit her perfectly, and it was perfectly suited for giving Annalise a hair-pulling power fuck in Miranda’s bed, savoring every single little moan she could force her to make.

Slamming into her while Miranda pictured everyone who had wronged her on the receiving end of this pounding.

What finally got her off was the thought of raping the Matron.

“Trying to make me into a whore, huh? How do you like this, you cum-guzzling cunt!”

One last violent hip thrust and an orgasm sent Miranda into fits. It was all the more powerful for finally embracing all the deranged thoughts in her head.

But even under the exhaustion of assaulting the maid, there was still a tickle of need in the base of her belly. A need that had her staring at the maid’s brutalized body.

With slow, deliberate motions, she stripped off the maid’s shoes and stockings, then unlatched the strap-on. She tossed it to Annalise.

“Put this on.”

Breath hitching as Miranda pulled on the stockings, encasing her legs in the thin fabric. Admiring the way they clung to her. Moaning as she put on the shoes.

Just like everything else in this town, she was more than one thing.

The maid sat with the strap-on fitted tight, and Miranda dipped her head into her lap to fellate it, cleaning it of the maid’s juices. And thinking of her father as she did it.

When it was clean she climbed onto the bed, with one last instruction for the maid.

“Fuck me like a slut.”

Miranda spent a long night on her back, legs spread, moaning and screaming as her pussy was obliterated.

The maid was very good at following directions.

Chapter Text

Miranda slept in until morning, or what passed for morning around here, when the drifting moon peered in at her from the always dark sky.

The maid Annalise entered her room at the appointed time and performed her new duty.

While Miranda was still half asleep, the maid crawled under the covers, moving between her legs.

Miranda woke bleary eyed to a tongue working her clit.

This was the latest indulgence Miranda had succumbed to in order to stave off madness.

When Miranda had hit a body shaking orgasm, the maid stood up, fluid still clinging to her lips. “Shall I continue tomorrow?”

Miranda, head still swimming, pulled the blanket to hide herself. “Actually, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Miranda enjoyed the attention and the service, but the maid’s soulless demeanor was unnerving her to no end.

But more than that the dreams were still a problem.

The creature that had attacked her in the sewer had left behind some lingering effects. The wound in the back of her skull was sealed up, but echoes of the vision it had infected her with still haunted her. Most vividly as soon as she woke up.

So the entire time the maid was going down on her, she was being overwhelmed by visions of her father skull fucking her.

The wakeup cunnilingus may have been hurting more than helping.

As Miranda was cutting into her breakfast, she noticed a beast watching her from the foyer, panting as he watched her. It was that same dog with the weird eyes that had followed her home after she had maimed its previous owner.

“How did you get in here?”

As she was watching, the maid brought the dog a plate of food identical to the one she’d served Miranda.

“Why are you feeding him? Stop it!”

Annalise pointed at the beast. “Puppy.” Then she walked out of the villa without another word.

Miranda stared at the dog and felt a twinge in her belly. “Are you going to try and fuck me too?”

The beast continued eating, oblivious.

She sighed and kept picking at her breakfast until Annalise returned, setting a black feather on the table next to Miranda’s plate.

“What is this?”

“You have a caller requesting your presence.”

———

Etcetera was waiting for Miranda out on the street, sitting on a low wall. The angle of the moon was casting her face in shadow. “There you are. We have business to attend to.”

“Why did you have to meet me out here? We could have talked indoors where we aren’t risking being jumped by monsters.”

“Because I can’t get in there.”

“What?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not going to explain it to you.” Etcetera stood up and dusted herself off. “Let’s walk and talk. I got a lead on a paleblood.”

“What exactly is a paleblood?”

“They’re the ones that are keeping this whole mess going.” She gestured at the moon. “And all of this will keep happening until you go kill them.”

“Why me?”

“Because if *you* kill them, they’ll stay dead.” Etcetera pointed toward the darkened streets. “Come with me. Reconnaissance.”

Miranda wasn’t fond of the idea of hunting monsters again, but it sure beat staying in this town, trapped in a debt cycle. Working as a bartender in a whore house. And if she didn’t find another option soon, the Matron was going to make her pay her bills on her back.

Etcetera led her down a long road to a dark part of town Miranda had never stepped foot in before. At the end of the road was a solitary, massive building, spectral lights shining from inside. The dark figure of a guard patrolled the parapets, and one more manning the door.

Etcetera kept them hidden from view. “Your target is inside, under lock and key.”

“What is this place? What are they doing in there?”

“Experiments. Even with how much trouble it’s caused, there’s still people out there who want to find divinity in blood.”

“So it’s a lab?”

“More of a prison. And it’s a prison with inmates who are easily riled up. And to keep them from rioting, they keep them satiated with ‘therapy’.”

“I have to kill one of the prisoners?”

“Not exactly. They keep your target separate from the rest. However, there’s only one person who gets invited inside, and it’s the pretty little thing they have who takes care of the patients. So you’re going to take her place.”

“That sounds stupid. Why don’t I just bust down the door and slaughter everything?”

“Do you think you can?”

Miranda took a look at the guards, the one at the door with an inhuman bulk. “Maybe?”

“You try and fight them, they won’t kill you nice and clean and send you back home. This facility would love to add an outsider to their test subjects. They’ll cut off your arms and legs and run tests on you that will make that doctor of yours seem tame by comparison.”

“So what do we do instead?”

Etcetera checked her pocket watch, the hands spinning rapidly in opposite directions. “You’re going to play dress up.”

Down a rainy road marched the dainty girl in a flowing dress on her way to the prison, led by a hulking guard with pike in hand to fend off any beasts that crossed their path.

No uniform to speak of to declare what faction they were with.

His pike was still marked with the dried black blood of the last creature that had tried to impede them.

With his attention still sharp, he heard Miranda coming and dodged away from the ambush, her blade glancing off his shoulder. Unbothered by the spray of blood, he pulled back to plunge the pike through Miranda’s chest. But before he could, Etcetera shot out of the shadows, curved blades closing around his neck. With a hard twist, his head was snipped from his body.

The therapist stood in silent horror until Etcetera knocked her over with a knee to the gut.

Etcetera moved quickly to bind the girl’s arms behind her back with a length of thin leather. “If you scream, I’ll cut you open.” Then she pulled a lantern from the girl’s waist and brought it back to Miranda.

“This is what you need.” She twisted a knob on the lantern and it began to glow with a pale blue light. “This is their signal. Carry this and they’ll let you walk right in.” Etcetera took a long look at Miranda. “Well, maybe not looking like that.”

Miranda looked down at the girl, her lacy skirt and white stockings and long hair. Her mouth got dry. “You want me to dress like her?”

“You want to get out of here, don’t you?”

Miranda nodded and suppressed the electric tingle running through her.

“Then stop arguing.” She used the guard’s shirt to wipe the blood from her blades. “Word has already spread about the new hunter in town. Their guard will be up if some butch girl like you strolls up.”

“What do I do with her?”

Etcetera shrugged. “I don’t care. Keep her or kill her, so long as no one finds her before you’ve completed your mission.” She adjusted her mask and began walking away. “The hard part is getting in the front door. Do that and the rest should be easy. Raise as much hell as you like once they escort you in. But you’re on your own from here on out.”

When she was gone, Miranda considered her new captive.

It didn’t feel right to execute this whimpering girl for convenience.

“Stand up. I’m taking you home.”

She marched her back to the villa where the maid was waiting. All the way, the therapist was blubbering and crying.

“Oh my god, relax. I’ll let you go later.”

There was a moment when she approached where the villa should be that there was a cloudy haze on her vision. Then all of a sudden it snapped into being and the maid was holding the door open for her.

“Welcome back. You brought a guest.”

Miranda pushed the therapist through the entryway. “Here, I need to keep her locked up for awhile.”

“Very well. Shall I secure her in our basement facilities?”

“We have a basement?”

By the lantern light she could see a wide selection of chains and shackles, fit for keeping a number of unwilling guests.

This was a dungeon for sure. What were the other people in this house up to?

The maid worked quickly, securing her with chains as the girl resumed whimpering and sniffling. Getting out the beginning of one last startled moan as Annalise jammed a gag in her mouth.

“Keep her fed until I get back, then I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Yes, miss.” The maid secured the last of the locks. “Is there anything else I may assist with?”

“Yeah, go to my closet and pick out an outfit like hers. I need to dress up.”

The maid curtseyed and left, but Miranda lingered in the basement, watching the shivering girl. Urges began to form inside her as she looked her over.

Through the gag she mumbled a plea.

“Shut up. Just shut up… I’m thinking.”

Miranda stepped closer and the girl shrank away, but the chains wouldn’t allow her to do much but shake her ass.

Miranda knelt behind her and ran a hand up the girl’s thigh. The therapist shuddered in a way the maid never would, and that fact put a twist in Miranda’s guts.

Her blood ran hotter the closer she got to the girl’s crotch.

She grabbed her tight and the captive girl gasped and began sobbing and struggling against her chains.

“Stop fighting you little bitch.”

An animal need overtook her and Miranda yanked aside her underwear and drove her fingers inside the girl, hard fucking her with a brutal need.

“This pussy is so nice I might keep it.”

The girl let out one last sorrowful wail that finally snapped Miranda out of her greedy lust. So much desperation that reminded her of noises she herself had made.

Miranda pulled away, a sickening guilt overtaking her. Without a word she left, fighting down her own shame.

———

The maid already had an outfit waiting for her, and Miranda sat passively in a daze as Annalise stripped her naked and prepared her for the infiltration.

Miranda was quivering as the maid dressed her, body heat rising as the stockings slid onto her legs.

For all the rage and angry lust that had been overtaking her, the act of dressing girly still had a weakening effect on her.

As the maid applied makeup to her, she was clenching her fists to fight back the wet urge to touch herself.

A long wig was fitted tight to her scalp and the image in the mirror might as well have been a completely different person.

“Is this satisfactory?”

“Yeah.” Miranda gulped and rubbed her thighs together. “Good.”

Before setting out, Miranda eyed her pistol, knowing she’d not get through the gate if she were armed to the teeth. “Do we have anything like this but more discrete?”

Annalise gave her an empty look, then left the room. She returned with a pill, bright blue in a paper wrapping. “This will allow you to return here.”

“Hmm, I suppose.”

“There is only one. If you want more you can inquire with the Doctor.”

While she would love to go and have an excuse to register her complaints with Doctor Isobel, she didn’t feel comfortable talking to her while she was wearing this girly getup. It made her feel vulnerable.

“That’s okay. I only need one.” Miranda picked it up and it had a chalky feel to it. “Is it okay to touch it?”

“Not for long.” The maid took the pill from her and loaded it into a jeweled choker, the jewel actually a tiny compartment. Then she fitted it around Miranda’s neck.

This was a new kind of heat.

“Can you… make it a little tighter?”

The extra pressure made her legs weak, and she chided herself for being so pathetic. Repeating to herself a mantra that this was only a costume. And as soon as she was done with this task she’d never wear it again.

———

The heels were low to the ground, but still higher than she was used to. Miranda stumbled down the road.

Though she never saw her, she could feel the eyes of Etcetera watching her, making she she was able to make it to the facility unmolested. And though there were many howls and screeches in the night, nothing crossed her path.

She retraced her steps back to the prison, summoning her courage in the dark.

Even this far away, she could see the guard in the lookout tower spot her and signal the man on the ground.

“Here we go.” She turned on the lantern and waved it high as she approached the walls.

She walked forward cautiously, ready to bolt in the other direction if it seemed like they had any idea who she actually was. She did not share Etcetera’s casual confidence in this plan. “Hello, I’m here to administer therapy.”

“Where’s your guard?”

“He got tied up. Went to the cathouse.”

“Fucking hell and blazes.” He stamped out his crooked cigarette. “Get in. Warden is waiting for you.”

But before he let her in he grabbed her roughly by the neck, giving her a quick pat down, then shoved her inside when he didn’t find anything.

So far, so good. Another guard led her through secure doors and gates that slammed closed behind them. The feeling of being trapped gave her to the urge to take the pill hidden at her throat now and call this off.

But before she had time to consider it, she was ushered into the warden’s office. He was a gruff, stern man with a strong jaw who triggered a twinge of familiarity that made her heart rate rise.

“You’d better be worth the wait.”

One entire side of the office was clear glass looking over an open area below. From here she could see the collection of patients milling about. Many of them wearing bandages, all of them looking insane.

“Hello. I’m here for, uh, the therapy.”

“Shut up.” He squinted and hit her with a withering gaze that turned her insides wet. Suddenly she was acutely aware of how she was dressed. “Don’t talk unless I tell you to.”

Miranda nodded meekly and he launched into a prepared speech about her duties, identical to what Etcetera had told her, and only now did Miranda think to wonder how she got her information.

As she stood in front of him she was struggling not to whimper with need. The shoes, the stockings, the choker, the wig, even the makeup were all constricting her. Much in the same way that girl was chained up in her basement. The idea was making her aggressively needy for something she couldn’t articulate.

Did she only agree to this because it was an excuse to dress up and be in peril?

“We’ve picked out the more troublesome patients. You’re going to see them in three sessions.” He looked out over the yard, scowling. “Do not leave any marks on them. They can be rough with you but you are forbidden from being rough with them. Understand?”

“I guess so.”

The warden narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like your attitude. I might have to teach you some manners after you’re done with your shift.”

She nodded, thinking again of the pill hidden in her choker. She’d be long gone before he got the chance.

The warden whistled and a guard appeared to escort her out, taking her down a new set of corridors.

When they were safely out of earshot of the warden, she cleared her throat. “Actually I don’t suppose I could walk around a bit and stretch my legs?”

“No, you stay in your room until we come to get you.”

She wanted to stab him in the neck, but in the interest of maintaining her cover, she gave him a curtsy. “Yes, sir.”

He led her into a room that may as well have been a nicer cell, leaving her there.

She waited until he’d walked away before she tried the door. Locked. She was going to have to actually work before she got a chance to kill whatever beast they were hiding here.

So far this was not the instant blood bath she had expected.

———

She waited, fighting back a nervous sweat, fiddling with the choker around her neck until a new guard arrived to take her to her first therapy session.

“Here goes nothing.”

The room itself was dimly lit. Cabinets along one side, otherwise empty but for a pair of chairs. A normal one for her and another with hooks and metal loops to attach the patients to.

A guard delivered the first patient and locked him to the chair by a set of shackles, each one fitted with a simple lock that she could detach herself, but she was more than happy to let every one of them remain bound.

The guard left them alone together for the therapy session.

The only part of the patient’s face visible beneath the wrapped bandages were his crazy eyes. Grinding his teeth as he stared at her.

“So…” She fidgeted and smoothed out her dress. “Do you want to talk about your parents or anything?”

“I’m going to skull-fuck your face! To death!” He humped at the air, rattling his shackles.

“Okay, great.”

His humping managed to shift the heavy chair slightly, but the bindings held. “You’re a fuck mother with too many eyes!”

“They’d better not all be like this.”

They were both locked in so she had to sit and wait for the guard to come back while her patient screamed obscenities.

Eventually the frustration took over and she gave him a swift kick in the chest. “Shut the fuck up.”

She was ready to drive her heel into his skull when she remembered the explicit instructions not to harm them. That gave her pause.

“I’m going to bite off all your toes and plant them in the garden.”

“Yeah. Great. Congratulations, you’re cured.”

The second patient was not a screamer, but he was unbearably horny and not afraid to show it.

From the moment he was in the chair, he was writhing and squirming.

“I am in need of your attention.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are. How about we sit quietly until your time is up.”

He strained in his seat, an erection tenting his pants. “I need it.”

The way Etcetera had laid this out, it wasn’t supposed to be more than walking in, killing something, and getting out. If she’d known she’d have to actually deal with other people, she would have said no.

At least the freaks at the cathouse were regular old creeps. That she could handle no problem.

The constant humping and personal anguish was driving her crazy.

“I’m going to untie your arm and you can take care of yourself, okay?”

He groaned and humped the air and she had to take that as a confirmation.

Her instinct was to look away as he cranked his cock, but she couldn’t help but watch. Every squelch and stroke putting her on edge.

“Please, I need…”

“You don’t need anything from me. Just finish and get it over with.”

“Just open that cabinet. I don’t need to touch, I just want to watch.”

She looked over at the supply cabinet, standing slightly ajar. “What’s in there?”

He didn’t answer, only stroked himself raw as he watched her legs.

Miranda sighed and got up to take a look. Inside was a mass of familiar shapes that confirmed exactly what sort of ‘therapy’ went on here. A collection of crude sex toys and devices not unlike the ones hidden in the chest at home.

She slammed the cabinet shut.

“What the fuck? Are these just standard around here? Does every goddamn building come with its own treasure trove of fuck toys?”

A calm settled over her and she sat down across from him, still stroking. Same amount of anguish.

The longer it went on the more worried she was that she might do something. The smell alone was enough to send her head spinning.

Even with her indulgences at home, the corruption was returning, getting its claws in her again. She’d put off going to the doctor, but willpower could only do so much. Especially when the image of this freakish beast cranking it in front of her was giving her chemical reactions.

As the time wore on, the feeling of being constricted by her clothes returned, and with it the unbearable need.

If she didn’t do something about this, she was going to die.

In a moment of weakness some dark pulse pushed its way into her brain, then gone in an instant, leaving behind a deep thirst. And it hit her so hard that the urge to resist lapsed.

Miranda pulled up her dress slowly, bunching it up around her waist. The patient stroked faster as more of her thighs were revealed.

“I’m not going to touch you, okay?” She slid her hand down into her underwear. “But… you can watch me do this.”

What shocked her was how sensitive she was, and how wet. Once she started touching herself, she couldn’t stop. And the faster she rubbed her clit, the faster he stroked his cock.

She was overwhelmed by the intense mutual masturbation session, losing herself. “I want to fuck you so bad but I can’t.”

He came and shot his load out, landing dangerously close to her feet.

The near miss sent her into orgasmic shudders, spasming at how close he was to spraying her with cum.

With a hard gasp she finally snapped back to her senses. “Oh fuck.”

She had to stand up and pace around the far side of the room, shaking off the effects of whatever had come over her.

When the third patient was led in, Miranda was resigned to doing a bad job. After the humiliating loss of control, her willingness to pretend had bottomed out.

She barely looked at the new patient as he was fitted to the chair.

“Good evening, bitch.”

“Uh, hi?”

This one didn’t seem nearly as unhinged as the others. He still had a strong light of assuredness glinting in his eyes.

“Take off that dress and let me see your cunt.”

“No thanks. I’m good.”

He grunted and flexed his arms. “Did you not hear me?”

“I’m not here to play with you.”

He narrowed his eyes, snarling at her. “You are here for exactly one thing, and that’s to be a whore. You’re *my* whore. And if you have a problem with that, I can make your short life very miserable.”

“That’s big talk from someone who’s chained up.”

The patient smirked. “The chains are for show. I got more power in this fucking box than anybody, even that warden. Every one of those freaks out there listens to me. One word and I could have them riot. Guards know it. That’s why they parade sluts like you in here to keep me satiated.”

This didn’t seem like a valid threat but the supposed ringleader’s confidence gave her pause. “If you’re so powerful, why haven’t you broken out yet?”

“Because I like all the free pussy.”

“I think we’re done here.”

“We’re not done until I say we’re done, you stupid cunt.”

She tapped on the glass to end the session early. “It’s been a pleasure, truly.”

The guard gave her a doubtful look as he led the screaming, cursing ringleader away.

First session over, she had to wait a long time for a guard to come fetch her to take her back to her room. But when he arrived he informed her the warden wanted to see her.

There was a moment where the two aspects of her wrestled for control: the murder bitch who wanted to twist his head off and get on with this, and the dainty good girl. The good girl won out and she let herself be led.

While she was being escorted back to his office she scanned every corner she could for clues to her target.

Every sign she saw had symbols and letters she couldn’t read. Finding her secret prisoner was going to take some wandering.

But there was not much to be done about it until she could shake these guards babysitting her.

The entire meeting with the warden, she could see the patients below. Instead of the dull milling about from earlier, many of them were now staring at her as they stomped their feet and kicked walls. The guards were watching them nervously.

Maybe the ringleader had been telling the truth.

She nodded along as he chided her for poor performance, avoiding his eyes lest he inspire any more weakness in her.

Miranda sat in the therapy room, waiting for her next patient.

In the quiet moments with her own thoughts, a strange whisper invaded her mind, calling to her. She couldn’t understand the words but they were constricting her brain, making her feel drunk with a strange signal.

Something in this building wanted to meet her, and it was trying to tell her how. But those words were only turning her mind inside out.

Like an itch on the spot where the sewer creature had punctured her.

When her next patient arrived, she snapped awake, the signal still a heavy weight on the back of her skull. She attempted to look calm as she blinked away visions of flesh and heat.

This new patient was mostly teeth.

“I could smell you through the walls since you first walked in the front gate.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you think you could maybe tone it down until I’m out of here?”

He licked his lips, ignoring her. “What do you sound like when you’re getting fucked up the ass?”

This one gave her pause. He wasn’t screaming like her first guest, and didn’t have the obnoxious self confidence of the ringleader, but this one felt like an actual threat. If she wasn’t careful his hands would be wringing her neck while he raped her.

During her moment of doubt, the signal forced its way back into her mind. Her vision was obscured by vivid images of her fellating this man. Fucking him. Letting him cum inside.

She was moments away from dropping to her knees when she regained control and banished the dark weight in her mind. “No! Fuck you! Why do I always have to be the submissive cum dump?!”

The patient began to speak when Miranda cut him off with a solid kick to the throat.

While he was still gasping and choking she unhooked him from the chair and dragged him to the ground. Hooking his shackles together behind his back to keep him helpless. Then yanked his pants down.

“How do you like it, huh?”

She rode the rage back to the cabinet to find a strap-on among the therapeutic aids.

The signal kept trying to worm its way inside and convince her to be a good girl, but she blocked it out with a red haze.

She unbuttoned her dress and pulled it off so it wouldn’t get in the way, then strapped it on over her underwear.

The patient turned to look at her and she stomped on his face. “Don’t fucking look at me.”

With some spit in her hand and a quick stroke, she drilled inside.

She couldn’t believe how right this felt as she slammed into him, listening to his panicked moans and howls.

“Is this what you were going to do to me, huh? Bend me over and rape me? How do you like it, bitch?”

As she pounded him deep, her thoughts drifted to the woman trapped in her basement, and how badly she wanted to do the same to her. She was never going to let her go.

All the more reason to get back home as soon as possible.

She reached around to touch him and as soon as his cock filled her hand, he jerked and came. She squeezed him tight as semen spilled across her fingers, still pounding until exhaustion caught up.

With one last hard thrust, she wiped her hand off on the back of his shirt and dislodged from him.

She left him in a heap and pulled her dress back on as quickly as she could, throwing the used toy back into the cabinet.

Miranda kicked him in the side to make sure he was listening. “I’m the one that does the fucking. Understand?”

He whimpered in response and she summoned the guard to drag him away.

With the object of her rage gone, her body emptied out. She sat like a molted snake skin until her next patient arrived.

This one was jittering in his seat, also deserving of a hard session of punishment, but Miranda was already so tired and confused. The violent attack she’d just dished out and the vile thoughts had rattled something loose within her.

If she needed any further evidence of the corruption’s hold on her, she need only observe the fact that one well deserved bout of rage had completely burnt her out.

And that burnout let the dark signal back in.

She was now as malleable as a marionette. And when it whispered, she obliged.

Miranda scooted her chair close, kicked out of her shoes, and put her stockinged feet in his lap.

He grew hard immediately as she worked him over.

“Can you cum like this?”

He was heaving breath as he moved his hips.

“Good.”

Something dizzying about the whiplash of dominating the previous patient and submissively giving a footjob to this one. It made her head hurt but she couldn’t find the will to stop.

As he got closer, Miranda rubbed him harder.

“Hey.”

The patient grunted as he humped against her.

“Where is it?”

“What?”

“There’s a special prisoner somewhere in this building. Where is it?”

Sweating and crazed with desire, he shook his head. “The blood sack?”

“Is that what they call it?” Miranda pressed his cock hard. “Where is it?”

“The warden doesn’t let us see it, they just inject us-”

“I didn’t ask what they did with it. I asked where it was.”

He groaned and shivered, then motioned with his head. “Toward the back, away from the lights.”

“Good. Now cum for me.”

Soon after he screwed his eyes closed and grunted, sliming her feet with a fiercely warm spray of semen.

The sensation was viscerally disgusting, but she didn’t pull away. She savored it.

Suddenly she felt a longing to be back at the cathouse.

As the guard secured the last patient of this set, the dull hum had taken up residence in her head. Miranda had lost her ability to force it out.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a familiar patient. The one who claimed to be the ringleader. “Ugh, you already had your turn.”

“No I didn’t. Because you didn’t do what you were told.” He pulled at his shackles, moving the chair an inch. “This is your last chance. Either you bend over and let me fuck you in the ass right now, or we’re going to beat down your door and everyone in this box is going to take turns.”

Clenching her fists, trying to decide on a course of action. But nagged incessantly by the knowledge that there was still drying cum on the bottoms of her feet.

When she didn’t reply, he continued egging her on, looking for buttons to push. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you’re dressed. I can tell just by looking at you that you don’t wear that often. And I know exactly why you dressed that way to come here. Because you know you’re a slut at heart.” He struggled against his chains for emphasis. “You were born for nothing but having a cock in each of your holes. That’s why you’re wearing a collar, because you know you belong to me.”

That reminded her of the secret smuggled stash.

A smile crept onto her face as she opened the tiny compartment and picked out the suicide pill.

“Actually, I think you’re right.” She stood and moved to his side. “I’m nothing but a slut with holes to fuck.”

“See? That’s what-”

She cut him off by jamming her fingers into his mouth, dropping the pill on the back of his tongue.

He gagged and struggled as she held his head back, massaging the pill down his throat.

“Suck it down, you worthless shit.”

He screamed and flopped against his bindings in a blind rage, until a jolt hit him and he stopped struggling.

One last gasping heave as he broke into weak spasms, drooling as the light left his eyes.

“Wow, that was quick.” Hard to imagine that the pill was something she was planning to take herself.

When the guard arrived, he saw the body and was stunned. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Some sort of heart condition maybe.”

“Oh no. Oh no. What am I going to tell the warden?” Sweat was already coating his forehead.

“Don’t tell him anything. Just get rid of the body.”

He mopped his head with his sleeve. “We’re fucked. We’re all dead.”

With this reaction it started to sink in that he may not have been lying about how important he was. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll talk to the warden after I’m done for the day and we’ll figure it out. No need to worry.”

“But what do I do with him? The prisoners are going to go insane.”

“Is there an infirmary in this place? Take him there. If anyone asks, just say he’s sick.”

“We’re doomed.” The guard was still wild-eyed. “Go take yourself back to your room. I’ll have to… deal with this.”

Fine by her. She let herself out while he was still agonizing over the corpse.

Naturally she wasn’t going to wait in her room. She still had a mission. And it was a mission she should get on with in case something bad happened as a result of murdering a very important patient she was supposed to be caring for.

As she moved further down the halls of the prison, a thick scent grew stronger. A thick scent that she followed to a darkened passageway.

At the very back of the building was a large blue chamber, cut off by a set of bars and a guard.

She cleared her throat and stepped into view, attempting to look dainty and unassuming.

His eyes snapped to her in surprise, hand moving to the club on his belt. “What are you doing back here?”

Doing mental math on how difficult it would be to overpower him. Wouldn’t be easy without a big, loud struggle.

“If you don’t mind I’d like to… take a look around in there.”

“What?” He looked back through the bars. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of those blood freaks, huh?”

“Um… Yes?”

“Get out of here. The boss man doesn’t want anyone messing with it.”

The dull hum returned and stirred her brains until it activated the girly part of her. There were no words, but a deep insistence that she already knew how to get her way. And it was the only correct way to get inside.

She begged herself not to do what she desperately wanted.

“Are you sure you can’t let me through for a little bit?” While her vision swam, she reached down and raised her skirt, flashing her panties as an offer.

The guard was silent as she slowly approached. Closer and closer until she was right next to him, body heat mingling.

He let his hand drift up her thigh, then grabbed her pussy hard, grunting. “Ready to go, huh? Did the patients already stick you?”

“No, I saved my pussy for you.” Fighting down her shame, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I was made for you to fill my holes.”

“Fucking whore.” The last of his resistance buckled easily and he grabbed her, pressing her up against the far wall as he opened his pants.

Whatever signal had been scrambling her since she arrived, had also worked it’s way into him. And they moved together with the same mad hunger.

She pulled her underwear aside and moaned as his thick cock slid inside.

Leg up, pressing her against the wall as he railed her. No love in the act, only violence.

The dark hum in her head trilled happily, pleased that she was taking his cock raw.

“Yes. Fuck me. Take me.”

The joy of being penetrated was only enhanced by the fear of what could result. Every drop of cum she’d touched so far had sent her further down a path of mindless cock obsession. How much more could she take before she went back to fucking dogs?

And what about pregnancy? She’d been taking birth control injections before she came to this town. But how long ago was that? A week? A year? Has it already worn off?

The uncertainty and the danger were what got her off.

She moaned her way through a body-shaking orgasm, and he slapped his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

Miranda worked her hips hard to milk the cum from him. Pleading with her eyes for him to defile her.

It wasn’t long before he drove his cock in deep and she felt the blessed warmth spreading inside.

With a few final pumps he pulled out, letting her slump to the floor.

He stuffed himself back in his pants as he struggled to catch his breath. “If you’re going in there, you’d better be gone by the time I get back.”

Miranda nodded dumbly and sat on the floor until the sex craze passed.

Released momentarily from the mania, she pulled up her panties and rushed into the enclosure.

Inside, Miranda found several arcane machines connected to a shadowy mass. As she got closer, she saw that it was a massive flayed bulk of meat, strung from the ceiling by chains. Still pulsing with life, impossibly.

As soon as she got close enough to feel its warmth, she knew that this thing was different. A different sort of blood pumped through it.

It was also the source of the dark presence in her mind, now compelling her to eat. To commune.

Her eyes were drawn to a hanging piece of meat, lips parting at the sight of it.

She stained to reach her mouth around the offered strip of flesh. As she locked her mouth around it, she felt the cum run hot down her thighs.

The slab of flesh filled her mouth, slow chewing it.

All at once she was knocked out by a feverish vision, collapsing as her mind was debilitated by feedback. Whatever message the creature was trying to impart, her mind was not able to interpret it, instead subjected to a tidal wave of violent sensations.

Her body seized as her soul was wrung out of her body. Seeing a feverish mess of creatures and beasts tearing her apart.

And a command from some horrendous higher power demanding that she give her body willingly to annihilation.

When she came to, coughing up shreds of its flesh, she was too dazed to consider trying to kill it. There was only so much time before the guard got back and she didn’t have an escape plan.

It made sense that she should play it cool for now and come back later to kill it on her way out.

But truthfully she needed to get away from it as soon as possible, before it made her do anything else, mission be damned.

Miranda fled to her room and spent the remaining time on the floor, gathering her senses. Trying to remember where her real self was located.

When the guard knocked and summoned her, she put on a calm face, checking herself in the mirror. Makeup still fine, if a bit smeared. Still presentable. She picked out the bloody shreds caught in her teeth with her tongue.

She took a deep breath, with a lingering thought that all she had to do was keep being a good girl.

Her last session of therapy went by quickly. With her sense of self fractured, time felt like a bag of broken glass.

On the other side of a moment of darkness, she returned to her senses to see her patient jerking off furiously. He was completely unbound, but didn’t remember removing his restraints.

He was stroking faster, panting with hoarse breaths, taking peeks up at her crossed legs for fuel.

With a loud groan, he convulsed and sprayed his seed onto the floor, another mess to add to the others.

The compulsion to bend down and lick it up crept into her head, but there was something about his stupid, self-satisfied face that reminded her of the rage that still churned inside.

Miranda grabbed a handful of his greasy hair and pulled him from the chair, throwing him to the floor.

She put her foot on his head and pressed him down towards the mess he’d made. “Clean it up.”

He gave a half hearted attempt to resist, so she pressed him down harder.

“If you make a mess, you clean it up. Start. Licking.” She drove her knee into his back to get him to start mopping it up.

If they were going to pretend this was therapy, she was at least going to attempt to teach some manners.

“From now on, anything that comes out of that dick is going into your mouth. Understand?”

After he was led away she was doubled over by a dizzy spell.

It wasn’t looking good for her being able to keep up this routine. The encounter with the creature had taken a lot out of her. But it was only two more of these filthy freaks and she could leave and never look back.

Another blank darkness took her and she awoke this time mounting the lap of her next patient, stroking him off with both hands.

“Wait… you’re hurting me.”

“Yeah? Good.” She stroked him harder as he flopped and kicked his feet under her.

Even as he begged for her to stop, the act still affected him. When he came she gave him an extra hard twist, making him wince as he flooded her hands with cum.

As he caught his breath, Miranda had a brief moment alone to stare at the thick semen clinging to her hand.

She extended her tongue, flicking it against one fat drop. But the smell and the taste broke her from her reverie and she retched.

She fought back the gag and wiped off her hand on the inside of her skirt. Then she stared at him quietly while trying to remember who she was.

Seeking that anger one last time she kicked the patient directly in the face.

He shrieked and recoiled. “You can’t do that! You’re not allowed to-”

Miranda kicked him again, and again, and again, until he was bloody and cowering. But even this act felt empty. Her insides were hollowed out.

When the guard arrived, he stared at the bleeding patient. “What happened in here?”

“Nothing. Send in the last one. Get this over with.”

He shrank back from her a step. “Actually, I think you’re done. The warden will want to see you.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

———

Now was the time to kill the beast, but she had to deal with the warden first. She stood in his office, struggling to maintain decorum, even as her head was clouded over.

Miranda barely heard him as he gave her a prepared speech about how her performance had been unsatisfactory. Though as he talked, it became clear that he didn’t yet know that she had literally killed one of them, beaten others. The guard who’d taken the body away had seemed nervous and must not have told him yet.

But from her vantage point up here she could see that very news spreading through the guards. Whispered from one to another, and each one that heard became worried and started sweating. Bracing for a fight.

Even the prisoners themselves were milling about agitated.

Not that it mattered to her. She’d kill him again if given the chance. As soon as that hunk of meat in the back room was dead, her business here was done.

“Hey, are you listening?”

Miranda snapped to attention. “I’m sorry.”

“Should have figured they’d send me a brain-dead slut.”

A candle flame of anger was snuffed out before it could even begin.

She fidgeted and smoothed out her dress, feeling as she did a drying patch of semen. “Yeah. I’m a… slut.” As she stood there, withering under his gaze, she realized what about him had set her off so bad. It was his passing resemblance to her father.

“Poor performance shows a lack of obedience.” He had a club matching what the guards carried and slammed it down on his desk as a warning. “So I can beat the obedience into you, or you can prove that’s unnecessary by getting on your knees.” With his free hand, he worked open his pants.

They were in full view of the guards and patients below, including all the ones she’d dommed earlier who were now watching her intently. Clearly his intention was to humiliate her.

She stalled for words and felt her resistance vanish, melted away by a sudden heat from her belly. Warmth from the strange meat she’d eaten.

As soon as she saw his cock, she broke and dropped to her knees and crawled to him. She’d been tempting herself all night, but now the hunger was debilitating.

The smell of it filled her mouth with spit, and with a whimper she leaned forward, extending her tongue to touch the sweaty flesh.

As she slid her tongue along his shaft, she had a vision of herself as viewed from above. A girly little cocksucker. And for some reason the thought made her happy. The elation intensified as she opened wide and shoved the cock into her mouth. Willingly giving a blowjob for the first time in her life.

She moaned as she bobbed her head, working it between her lips. Toes curling at the taste.

As she suckled him, Miranda was dimly aware of a commotion below them in the enclosed yard.

In all likelihood, seeing her submissively suck off the warden had broken the spell she had cast on them, and now they were angry. That and the news of their ringleader getting assassinated.

The warden was still oblivious as he moved his hand to the back of her head, forcing her to take it deeper.

As he got closer to orgasm, a sliver of worry worked its way into her brain. It tainted the lusty joy she was feeling to remember that there were consequences for this.

Tears sprung into her eyes as she realized that even if he weren’t holding her head, throat fucking her, she’d still let him cum in her mouth.

She felt a pulse run through his body a moment before his hot seed flooded her mouth.

Her lips remained locked tight around him as he filled her cheeks to bursting with jism.

When he’d finished with her, the warden pushed Miranda away and stood up, finally noticing the revolt happening below.

While the warden began yelling through the glass, Miranda stayed on her knees, languishing and rolling the cum around in her mouth. Savoring the taste, unwilling to swallow it but unable to spit it out and spare her the corruption.

As she stirred the thick mess with her tongue, her thoughts drifted to her girlfriend, now far away. So far away that she had trouble remembering her face.

She sent off one last mental apology to her as she tipped her head back and swallowed, crying as she felt it slide down her throat.

She snapped out of her reverie when the warden knocked her to the ground as he pushed past her.

The commotion had evolved into a full blown riot. If she was going to finish her mission, it was now or never.

She wiped her mouth with the back of hand and fled into the halls.

As she retraced her steps to the enclosure, a couple of guards passed her with weapons ready, but none stopped her.

This far from the yard, the riot was a vague roar, not loud enough to alert the guard back here.

He saw Miranda and smirked. “Oh, back for more? If you’re that hard up, you should-”

Before he knew what was happening, she’d pulled the baton from his belt and thwacked him across the face. Then she rained strikes down on his head, knocking him to the ground and turning him into a bloody mess.

As she stood over his unconscious body, the entity made one last worried attempt to convince her to be a good girl. But she’d had her fill of cum for the day, now she wanted blood.

She braced her mind and returned to the hanging pile of meat. It offered her more strips of flesh but behind them she could see the delicate core that it was hiding.

“I am so tired of you in my head.”

She stepped up to it and reached to wrap her hand around the beating, pulsing bulb that was its heart.

As she was pulling, straining, the hum in her head became deafening, but she shut it out.

She pulled and the bulb burst in a spray of thick, dark blood. As it coated her something in the blood reacted to her and seeped into her skin.

Similar to when she ate part of it, she had a severe invasion of darkness into her mind.

This time the vision was more clear. A creature sat perched high atop a swirling void. Watching her, beckoning.

She had a moment of understanding that the signal telling her to be a submissive girly slut was from this entity, not the now dead sack of flesh. The flesh had only been transmitting the words of something greater.

And now that she had taken this new blood inside her, she had a direct line.

———

This time when she woke from her vision, the machines in the room were blaring a tinny alarm that made her scorched head ache.

She stood up and kicked the machines until they stopped functioning.

Now she had to escape without the easy exit of the pill. All she had was a club. If only these guards had carried knives, this would be easier.

But before she could consider it further, she turned to see a massive patient filling the only entrance into this enclosure.

In the dim light it was hard to tell if this was one of the patients she’d attended to today, but the look in his eye was plenty familiar.

The fear of what was about to happen drove her to attack, but at the critical moment the heels she was wearing caused her to slip, twisting her ankle as she landed a glancing blow against his head. The strike enraged him and he sent a heavy fist into her gut.

Under the hanging meat creature, he gave her a fierce beating.

Miranda fought back until the pain was too much and gave up, cowering the same way her last patient had.

When she’d stopped struggling, he stood over her catching his breath. “You’re quite a treat aren’t you?” He lifted up her dress to peek underneath. “How about we get comfortable?”

Miranda broke into sobs, forcing her battered body to move, trying to grab the guard’s club which had fallen in the struggle.

The patient stomped on her outstretched hand and picked up the club.

“I heard about you, bitch. You should learn to take your own medicine.”

After flipping her over, he pulled down her panties and while she mumbled a plea, the end of the club pressed in between her ass cheeks.

“No, no wait.” She sputtered as the pressure increased. “Please don’t. I’ll do anything. I-”

With a hard effort, he rammed it inside her. As it plunged deep into her ass, she screamed.

But her screams only drew in more of the patients.

Miranda writhed weakly on the floor as more of the beast patients filed in, eyeing her like a prize.

She grabbed the club and attempted to pull it out but it was lodged tight inside and she couldn’t budge it, only causing her more pain.

By the leering looks they were giving, it was obvious what they were going to do to her. In desperation she locked both hands around her neck to try and strangle herself, but she didn’t have the will or the strength to actually finish the job.

She was barely red in the face as they descended on her, pinning her limbs to the floor.

The hum that had infected her before was now a stronger presence, attuned to the new strange blood in her veins. More than a hum now it was a darkness around the edge of her vision, and though she couldn’t see it, she could sense it with different eyes.

The inmates tore open her bloodstained dress, fighting for the opportunity to rape her first. Some jeering, some screaming obscenities. But the sounds were dulled by the entity clinging to her mind, gleeful and hungry at the sight of her being turned into fuck meat.

She was blinded by the swarm of hands and bodies all molesting her, but felt the bulk of the man who had caught her forcing her legs open, then driving his cock into her hard. He raped her with a brutal pounding, slamming into her with his full weight.

Her anguished screams were quickly cut off and turned into a gurlgle by a new cock forcing its way into her mouth.

Spit-roasted violently as her limbs were bent and pulled at by the other patients eager for their turn.

And everyone would get a turn.

Throughout the night she was brutalized, filled up with corrupted sperm.

Eventually they got tired of only having two holes and yanked the club from her ass. The pain sent her into convulsions, and the cum in her throat turned the pained scream into a wet cough that caused the fluid to shoot out her nose.

The club was soon replaced by cock and they twisted her body to accommodate as many of them as possible.

She suffered through the gang bang for what felt like an eternity, mind cracking and crumbling. During a brief lull, she gasped and coughed, blinded by runoff from her mouth. And because she was blinded she did not see a patient raising the same club that had been rammed up her ass. He brought it down on her skull with a fierce crack, a final revenge for the indignities he’d suffered at her hand.

The blow would be fatal, but not soon enough. As something crucial leaked within her skull, she was dimly aware of a new violation: the tearing of teeth on her flesh.

———

She woke up like she had fallen from a great height. Clothes mangled and ruined, but her body was whole again. This time it took her much longer before she was able to convince herself that she was alive and safe as she laid shivering in the garden.

Miranda bent over and coughed up a handful of white flowers from a mouth that had very recently been drowning in semen.

The moon was heavy in the sky, larger than she remembered.

The dark presence had vacated her mind. Not gone forever, only satiated.

When the panic finally died down, she sat up. Even that was a labor.

She stumbled back to her room, every muscle sore from phantom injuries.

The sight in the mirror was a horrid wreck.

Somehow the wig had managed to stay on through the entire ordeal, merely askew and itching like crazy.

She pulled it off and underneath her actual hair had changed, gotten longer. It now hung near her shoulders as if it were longing to be the doll-like form she’d masqueraded around in.

The sight of it was what set off the powder keg of a familiar rage. Anger that she knew could never be resolved, but that didn’t stop her from looking for an outlet.

Going back to the prison was out of the question, so she turned her hate to the only one left to receive it, the actual therapist who was still locked in the basement.

As Miranda walked downstairs, her captive awoke from her place on the floor. She could feel the dangerous energy emanating from Miranda.

She mumbled a weak plea through the gag, but Miranda was not interested in listening.

She slid on the strap-on and buckled it.

All she wanted now was to make this girl feel even a fraction of the brutality and humiliation that Miranda had been subjected to.

The more the girl screamed and struggled, the harder Miranda fucked her.

If she couldn’t have peace, no one else would.

Chapter Text

Out in the eternally dark night, Miranda struck down another abomination, it’s blood spattering her face as it fell.

Since the incident at the prison facility, she hadn’t seen any trace of Etcetera, leaving her without any direction toward the next paleblooded creature she needed to kill.

But Miranda was more than happy to venture out into the night and murder any creature she happened across. She might get lucky and find the correct type of beast, but more importantly it kept her mind off the nightmares and visions she’d been receiving since her last death.

Killing made it easier to think.

On her way back home a new opponent presented itself. Shaped vaguely like a man, but its skin was a slick of black oil. Wrapped in a tattered cloth.

She’d seen this creature before. The past few nights it had been watching her as she walked the streets. Following her. But now it was done pursuing.

It took a step toward her and she drew her weapon.

Though it was large and imposing, it was slow, and she easily drove her blade into its chest.

What poured out of it was an oily black sludge the same color as the rest of it. Seemingly a simple victory but it refused to die as easily as the average beast.

It reached for her face as she attempted to pull out her blade, twisting to try and wrench it free. As its hand was grabbing at her neck it lost its shape and burst into a bouquet of slimy tendrils.

The Pursuer grabbed her wrists with its remaining hand, pinning her to her weapon while the tendrils probed at her face.

Miranda held her mouth closed but one of them jammed straight up her nostril, choking her with a thin liquid.

In desperation she finally pulled away, yanking her weapon free as she hacked and coughed.

The Pursuer was still grasping for her as she brought her sword down on its head.

She continued chopping at it until it was a quivering pool of gunk on the ground. That should have been easier. Damn blade was getting dull.

When the creature finally stilled, she had a moment a deep satisfaction, spitting out the remnants of its leavings.

A shame that hunting didn’t also pay the bills.

When all the blood had been spilled and the wounds dressed, Miranda had to make time for her actual job.

Out of necessity, she’d come to terms with the fact that she was not going to get out of working at the cathouse. Now she found herself entering the premises most days, determined to chip away at her debt.

Among the outfits afforded to her, she found the most reasonably modest one, which ended up being a mock schoolgirl outfit. She buttoned it up all the way to the neck to hide what little cleavage she had. Still not ideal, but better than most.

Even so, it caused her immense grief to know how excited she got from pulling on a skimpy skirt.

Recently, she’d tried cutting off all her hair as a reset, but every morning when she woke up it was back to its new longer style, as if weeks and months had passed while she was asleep.

She begun to think of her bartending shifts as a test of her willpower, to fend off the constant offers from horny customers, while naked flesh was being paraded around in front of her.

But secretly her ever waking thought was taken over the the urge to shove another disgusting cock in her mouth.

When the corruption overruled her good sense, she went home and took out her lust on the maid, or the slave in the basement if she was feeling especially deranged. But even those indulgences could only go so far.

During one of her shifts, she was averting her eyes from the stage, whispering to herself a mantra of self discipline when a customer strolled up to the bar.

“How about something top shelf? I’ll let you pick.” He set down a pile of coin that amounted to triple what she made in a single shift pouring drinks. “Bring the drink over.” He tapped his knuckles on the bar and went back to his seat.

As she usually did, she grabbed a bottle completely at random.

He was set up on a wide lounge seat facing the stage. When she delivered the drink to him, his eyes were hungry.

“How about you sit down for a spell?” He patted the seat next to him. “Get comfortable. Make a bit more coin.”

She was anything but comfortable, but sat down anyway, coiling up as he scooted next to her.

With the Matron constantly reminding her of her debt, it was only so long before listening to her corrupted blood started to sound like the rational option.

He crept his hand onto her leg and she shivered, swatting him away and pulling her skirt to hide as much of her legs as she could.

“What’s the matter? You think I can’t afford you?”

“I’m not for sale.”

He laughed and took a drink. “You think you’re too good to sell your ass?”

“No, I’m… I mean… I’m a… lesbian.” The excuse felt weak coming out of her mouth and she regretted saying it at all.

“Plenty of girls like you around here. They say they’re a lesbian until they get some dick. Then they turn into drooling whores.”

It was a familiar sentiment.

Though she was furious, she didn’t say anything, not even when he took her by the wrist. As he opened his pants and guided her hand inside, she looked away. But all she saw was a series of other customers who had propositioned her watching intently. Instead she focused on the dancer as a hard cock filled her hand.

Even when he let go of her, she couldn’t stop from wrapping her fingers around him tight, massaging it in slow strokes.

“Does that feel good, whore?”

She groaned and stroked him harder, gasping when she felt the wet slick of his pre on her fingers.

“I asked you a question.”

“No. I hate-”

He cut her off with a kiss, jamming his tongue down her throat. Hands grabbing her and molesting her.

She wanted to stop him from pawing her modest chest, but couldn’t stop stroking.

It was demoralizing to know how weak she actually was. More so the hot-blooded thrill she got when his cum covered her hand in a warm rush.

He gave her chest one last hard squeeze before letting her go. “Best handjob from a lesbian I’ve ever had.”

She stormed back to the bar and scrubbed her hand clean with a rag, angry at herself for losing control. Hoping this was a one off event.

But after selling a handjob, the floodgates were opened. Now the customers who were merely annoying were now treating her as a quest to be conquered.

As she learned later, that one handjob had made her much more than bartending ever could, just as the Matron had promised.

With that bit of encouragement, it wouldn’t be long before she gave in again.

During her very next shift, she had an aggressive customer hounding her all night for some special service.

And late into her shift she was hit with a now familiar hazy weakness, dismantling her inhibitions. As if the booze she was serving was seeping into her through the air.

“Fine, I’ll do it if it means you’ll leave me alone.”

He made her get on her knees, kneeling before him as she stroked him.

It gave her a closeup view of his dick. And the entire time she was suppressing the urge to lick her lips as she considered every drop emerging from it.

“I want to suck it.” The words were out before she realized she was speaking them out loud. But thankfully, the admission was enough to send him over the edge and he finished in her hands.

She tried to contain it but a stray shot hit her chest, leaving a wet spot on the fabric. It was a constant reminder for the rest of her shift that she had crossed a line.

It wasn’t just offers. Her sudden induction into the ‘girls for sale’ emboldened many of the customers to start feeling her up whenever given the chance.

One customer was especially bad, but she couldn’t seem to exercise any caution around him, bending over and presenting her ass whenever she had to set down a drink for him or his friends.

This time around she let him get a tight hold on her, and when he slipped in between her thighs, Miranda rode it for a few beats before smacking the offending hand away.

“Do you like that, girlie?”

“Fuck you.”

She also found herself being asked to deliver drinks to private booths where sex acts were in progress. Forced to stand there and watch while a working girl slurped his cock. The customer in question watching Miranda squirm with a self-satisfied look on his face.

This was one more way the clientele were trying to wear her down.

While the shame was strong, most of the time she felt more annoyed at having to deal with them and all the disgusting stains they kept leaving on her uniform.

And that annoyance ramped up when the weaponsmith strolled up to her bar.

“Greetings, hunter. I hear you’re finally getting your hands dirty around here.”

Something about him being present made everything worse. Not just the fact that she’d already been abused by him, but that he was from outside these walls. It somehow made the shame more real.

“Do you know there’s a bet going round about you?”

“A bet?”

“Everyone is trying to figure who’s going to be the first one to cum all over your face.”

“Well, that’s an easy bet because that isn’t going to happen.”

“It’s not a bet of ‘if’, it’s a bet of ‘who first’.”

Miranda slammed a bottle on the bar in front of him, almost hard enough to crack it. “Order a drink and leave. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”

“Still putting up the tough girl front?” He took a swig of the bottle. “Should I tell everybody I already had your mouth?”

Miranda narrowed her eyes, remembering her last visit with him where he’d throat-raped her.

“If I weren’t on the clock, I’d snap your neck.”

“Mmm hmm. Sure. You sound like you could use some loosening up. And I think I know how.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Reach your hand under that skirt of yours.”

“Leave.”

“Just do it and I’ll leave you alone. Come on.”

Her eyes drifted to the stage, where Miranda’s favorite coworker was dancing and gyrating, sweating. Miranda still didn’t know her name but her memory was a frequent visitor when Miranda masturbated herself to sleep.

She kept her eyes on her as she slipped her hand beneath her skirt and into her underwear.

“That’s it. Give yourself a stir.”

Her fingers slipped inside, rubbing and stroking herself.

“Are you wet?”

She looked away from the stage. “…yeah.”

“Give it a taste.”

An intense heat blossomed inside her as she slowly raised her fingers to her mouth and let her tongue lap up the result of her constant, simmering lust.

Miranda sucked her fingers clean, nibbling on her fingertips.

“How about you share?”

Miranda returned to sanity and gave the weaponsmith a sharp slap across the face.

He took the hit in stride and backed away. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you to your new business.”

After he was gone, she had the urge to act out.

As stealthily as she could, she slipped her feet into the high heels she kept behind the bar, a satisfied haze descending over her as she tightened the straps.

With all that had happened, she was losing a fight on two fronts. The corruption that was driving her to lustful madness, and the alien compulsion to become a subservient, girly slut.

She was still lightheaded and impressionable when a final customer propositioned her.

Moments later she was in a private booth, bearing through it while he licked her armpits and jerked off against her bare thigh.

In between her shifts she’d burn off her frustration by running into the night until she found a creature to kill. Though since she’d killed the hanging beast, it seemed like the monsters were getting stranger.

This time the beast that slithered out of the dark was two skinny arms and a freakish, malformed face, brimming with teeth.

It managed to sink its jaws into her leg before she could remove its head from its body.

Then right back to the cathouse, favoring her non-injured leg as she dreamed of the day she could take a blade to everyone in here.

As much of a terror she was in the streets, she had to pack that in and become a pushover here. This was evidenced by a patron dropping a coin on her bar, and she didn’t even try to argue before heading for the booths.

In the flimsy privacy of the enclosure, she had her hands on the wall while he slid his dick between her ass cheeks.

“Don’t put it inside.”

He was gripping her hips hard as his dry-humped her. But eventually his cock slid under her panties, bare skin on bare skin, though she didn’t have the willpower to stop him.

And when he sprayed his seed onto her lower back, she couldn’t help but moan.

In the quiet moment afterward where she was heaving with need, she felt the head of his slimy cock press against her asshole.

“Let me put it in. Just a little.”

“No!” She turned and punched him in the chest. “Get out of here.”

“How about next time?”

“I… I don’t know. Just leave.”

It seemed every customer was like this now, trying to push more boundaries wherever they could.

She considered letting one of these awful beasts cum on her face, just so they would shut up about it and move on. But there was no guarantee that would work. It might make all the others competing to defile her get jealous and demand their turn.

Then that might embolden them to go even further and make her one of the women who worked in the back of the building. Or in the basement, whatever happened there.

While she was mulling it over, a working girl approached the bar.

The other women who worked here didn’t interact with her much except out of necessity. It was like they were afraid her debt was going to infect them.

The working girl had a mischievous expression on her face, while a group of men looked on from near the stage.

“Hey bartender.” She leaned in and puckered her lips. “How about a kiss?”

Miranda wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what the girl had been doing. And from the looks on the men watching this exchange, they’d put her up to this.

Moments before, she’d been giving an intense blowjob to one or all of them. Hell, there was even a fresh trace of it still dripping out the corner of her mouth.

Even so, she still couldn’t stop herself from pulling her in by the back of the neck and kissing her deep.

She could taste it immediately, the saltiness of her mouth and where it had just been. Miranda sucked it from her tongue, savoring it. Trying to ignore the show she was giving to the customers.

This was definitely proof that she was too far gone for her own good and needed to take a step back from this job, debt be damned.

And she was still thinking that when she finished her shift by giving out a footjob in one of the private booths.

Aside from tips, they were not paid directly, only finding out their pay after the fact from a chalk board with a series of symbols and figures to denote what acts were performed.

Seeing the results in hard numbers was a wake up call.

Now it was really starting to hit her how deep she was. In her head she started doing the math of how many hand and foot jobs she’d have to do every single shift to pay her debt off. It did not look good.

She’d avoided speaking to the Matron for as long as she could, but if she was going to keep debasing herself, she deserved a better rate at the very least.

After cleaning up, Miranda went upstairs to meet the Matron. In her smoky abode, she was stirring a dish with a tiny, slender fork. Long legs crossed alluringly.

“What can I do for you, new girl?”

“I came here to talk about my pay, actually.”

The Matron smiled and winked at the guard standing in the corner. “And such a good job of earning that pay recently. It’s nice to see you become so acclimated.”

“Well, about that.” Miranda cleared her throat. “I think I deserve a better rate, is all.”

Matron speared something slimy with her fork and popped it into her mouth. “I do not care much for contract workers making demands.”

“I just think that-”

“On your knees.”

“What? But-”

“On your knees or I double your debt right now.”

Words failed Miranda. This demanded protest, but with her guard standing by ready to break her in half if she acted up, there wasn’t much she could do about it, not while she was still in the Matron’s clutches.

So with a warm shot of hot shame, she got down on all fours in front of the Matron.

“Good girl.” She reached down and held Miranda by the chin. “Hmm, you should really put on more makeup. It looks quite fetching when it starts to run.” Matron leaned in to whisper hot in her ear. “The boys love seeing a bitch like you cry.”

The curses in her throat were suddenly drowned out by a vision of applying makeup like a good girl.

“Now why are you here begging like a dog?”

“I want more pay.” The look in the Matron’s eyes set her back. “I mean, I at least want to get paid what the others are getting.”

Matron sighed and took a sip of wine. “Higher rates are reserved for proper members of staff.”

“And how do I become one?”

“You’re not ready to be a real member of this organization unless you have the blood for it, but that’s something that can be changed with a quick trip to the doctor’s office.”

“The doctor? You don’t mean Isobel?”

“The very same. Her work has been so beneficial to mine. Do you think we’d be able to do this work if every girl here turned into a fiend the first time they got a little cum in their mouth.”

“Are you saying she has a cure?”

“More of a vaccine. Of sorts. There are some slight side effects though, but I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

It was too much of a risk to climb back in that machine and let Isobel work on her. “I can’t do that.”

“I don’t like your negative attitude.” Matron turned in her seat and presented her high heels to Miranda. “My shoes have gotten a bit dirty. Clean them up and I’ll knock a few cents off your bill.”

Without more than a second of hesitation, Miranda began bathing the shoe with her tongue.

“If you want to be treated the same as our other employees, you are expected to make certain concessions.”

She watched Miranda work as she forked the slimy morsels into her mouth. When she was satisfied, she pushed her away with the toe of her shoe.

“Stand up.” She opened a painted urn and pulled out a small pink coin and handed it to Miranda. “If you decide to take the next step, take that back to our dear Doctor Isobel. She’ll know what to do. This is how you prove you are committed to the establishment.”

The coin felt waxy in her palm. Knowing the Matron and the Doctor were in league was not terribly surprising, but still worrying.

———

While a vaccine against the corruption was a tempting idea, she was a long way from trusting the Doctor, still determined to forcibly will herself to stop being a horny slut.

The activities of this most recent shift had left her too weak in the knees to go out hunting. She needed to sleep off the sickness.

But sleep only subjected her to a long fever dream of eldritch beings watching her and reaching for her. Claws and pincers and tentacles searching for her, grabbing her, violating her until she woke up in a sweaty panic.

She threw off the blanket to find that the dog was lapping at her ankle, a strange look in its unusual eyes.

“Get out of here. How did you even get in my room?”

It jumped on the bed, nosing at her crotch until she kicked it away.

“Disgusting mongrel.”

She’d have to have a talk with the maid about this, but that could wait. Right now she needed to work out her frustrations downstairs.

She still refused to find out the name of this former therapist, same as she refused to name the dog who kept hanging around. It made abusing her easier.

Miranda spanked her slave until the remnants of the dreams had been drowned away by the girl’s pained cries.

As long as she was focused on fucking her, she could pretend the daily betrayal of her own body didn’t exist.

Even after finger fucking her, something was missing. Something more needed to be done, but she couldn’t settle her heart rate enough to decide what.

Then she saw the dog watching from the stairs, panting.

Miranda idly rubbed the slave’s pussy while she stared at it.

“Do you want to fuck her?”

The beast began panting harder, drowning out the low whimper of the bound girl.

Miranda was overcome by competing urges, then finally fled the basement in disgust. Whatever happened down there was beyond her control.

———

If her personal frustration outlet wasn’t keeping the corruption at bay so the only option was to do killing, and lots of it. Even though it physically hurt her to wear it, she put on her most dandy men’s clothes and went out to hunt.

Tonight the monsters weren’t obliging her and her expedition was largely bloodless. The one time she wanted to be attacked by monsters, they were nowhere to be seen.

Frustrated, she found herself in a familiar part of town. It felt ages ago now, but this was where she had gone during one of her attempts to collect the staff of the cathouse that was now her primary source of stress.

And one of these houses was still occupied by the man she had ‘helped’. An illicit act that seemed tame now to the daily indignities she suffered.

Gilbert was still inside, his lantern revealing his shadow against the curtains.

“Hello?”

As soon as she spoke up, he snuffed out the light. “Who’s there?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just out for a walk.” She briefly wondered why she hadn’t walked away as soon as she saw him. But her needs were driving her. “I passed through here a while ago.”

“Right. The hunter…”

“Yeah. Gilbert, right? Are you okay?”

She could hear him shivering and breathing heavily.

“The sickness has its hold on me. And it’s getting harder to resist.”

It made her ill to do any sort of advertisement, but she didn’t know what else to do for him. “You know, the cathouse is up and running again. You can go there for help.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not? I thought you-”

“It’s too far. Whenever I try to leave, the smells are too strong.”

Speaking of smell, as she got closer a bestial scent became more fierce, activating something in her brain.

She pinched her arm to try and banish some of the dizziness. “Do you think I could help you?”

Gilbert was quiet except for heaving, strained breath.

“The girl that lived here before.” Miranda set down her spear. “How did she comfort you? Did she use her mouth?”

The way his breathing sped up was confirmation enough. Soon after, he opened his door, still sitting in darkness.

If she had any sense left, she’d go home and ride a dildo until she beat the desire out of her, but she was too far adrift. The lust was making her drunk and foolish enough to think this was a good idea.

It was hardly a consolation, but he was far kinder than the horrible creeps she worked with. And if she was going to give in, she’d rather it be with someone like him instead of those vile bastards who would use it against her.

He was only a dim shadow as she knelt down in front of him.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone I did this.”

His pants opened easily and she was hit with the intoxicating scent. It worked her into a drunk frenzy as she slid her hand around him and stroked.

When she couldn’t bear it any longer, she dipped her head into the darkness of his abode and gave his member a lick. Lapping at him and stroking, fighting her own revulsion.

As he moaned, she latched her lips onto him, slow sucking and massaging his shaft with her tongue. While she wasn’t terribly experienced at the act, she let the hunger take over to guide her tongue into every dirty crevice.

As she strained her jaw to swallow the head, Miranda had a moment of thrilling shame as she pictured how this would look to anyone who passed by. A common whore sucking cock in public.

He put his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to take it deep, bobbing her head in his lap.

As she moaned and sucked, her insatiable cum hunger made her blind to the ways he was changing.

She was steadying herself with one hand on his thigh, and she began to notice that the muscles were shifting, swelling. A strand of worry passed through her but the intense sensations prevented her from stopping, still lapping greedily at every fat drop of pre.

But then the cock itself began to swell, becoming too big for her mouth. When she tried to pull away, his huge hand grabbed her by the back of the head and forced her back down.

Whimpering and struggling as he transformed, slapping his thighs while the sloppy cock pressed into her throat.

Though she couldn’t see him, it was obvious that he had become a true beast. One last drooling, gagged plea to be let go, then the beast turned the blowjob into a violent mouth fuck. Driving her head down so hard she feared her neck might snap.

Any human words left from him turned into an animal snarl. He speared her throat as he flooded her with semen, strangling and drowning her in it.

Her eyes were rolling back in her head as she let out one hard cough and felt it fill every cavity in her head.

When she was on the verge of passing out, Gilbert fucked her throat with three hard pumps, and then tossed her aside. As she fell, she heard a splintering of wood as he burst from his home and fled into the night howling.

Miranda lied there in a heap, hacking and coughing through the fluid running from her nose.

Miranda was too dazed to make any honest evaluations of what had just happened or her part in it. All she knew was that she felt sick.

When she was stable on her feet, she walked back home and passed out in bed.

———

A fever gripped her as she slept and she kicked off the covers in the night. Body heat rising to dangerous levels and she would wake up sweating, strip of a few more articles of clothing, and fall back to sleep. Cycle continuing until she was naked in bed, steam practically rising from her flushing skin. Hair plastered to her head with sweat.

Miranda woke up disoriented to the feel of a beast’s tongue lapping at her ankle. She gave out one miserable moan in response to the sensation.

The beast took this as an invitation and climbed onto the bed, once again nosing at her crotch.

“No. Stop it.” Saying even as she’s parting her legs.

When she finally broke from her delirium, the dog had mounted her, it’s slimy cock sliding against her belly.

“Get away from me.” She pushed it away but the beast was too needy to give up now.

She wasn’t prepared for the intoxicating need that overtook her at being caught naked and exposed to a beast. It was all the worse for the lingering mania she’d received by going down on Gilbert. And all the frustration of her bartending job made it unbearable.

She needed to be filled.

Her hand slid around its horrid member as she prayed for the desire to stop.

“Just… hurry up.”

Fighting back tears, she guided it to her pussy, driving the disgusting cock inside. And as soon as it gained purchase, the beast rammed into her. And once it had begun, it wouldn’t stop slamming into her, her legs bobbing with every thrust.

Miranda moaned and cried at the violent, brutish treatment.

When she tried to pull away, the beast’s jaws closed tight around her neck. Toes curling at the feeling of being owned.

She let out one last mournful, humiliated wail before giving in to the sensation. It was too late to fight it now.

For what seemed like forever, the beast drove deep into her like it was trying to break her, until she felt a change in his pace, a sudden burst of urgent energy.

“Are you going to do it? Are you going to breed me?”

She planted her feet and raised her hips to allow the beast to drive in deeper.

At the same moment the dog filled her up, Miranda was hit with an orgasm so strong it blacked out her vision temporarily.

When it had finished planting its seed, the beast finally released its grip on her neck, dripping caustic drool across her chest.

With her clarity finally restored, the shame rushed in.

Miranda kicked the dog away, throwing pillows until it finally retreated from her room.

And in the first moment of quiet after it left, she began furiously masturbating, equal parts horrified and turned on by what she’d just done.

This had gone on too long. Personal strength had failed.

———

After hastily bathing and dressing, Miranda walked into the clinic to present herself to Doctor Isobel.

“Well, well, well. Long time no see.”

Miranda sputtered through a plea for help before finally offering up the pink coin that the Matron had given her.

As soon as Isobel saw it her eyes lit up with recognition. “Ah, so you’ve been getting familiar with the business side of things.”

“I need your help.”

Doctor Isobel swiped the coin from Miranda. She sniffed it once and then snapped it in half. Isobel dropped it in a large beaker full of viscous fluid and set it over an open burner. The vibrant pink bloomed through the mixture.

“I must admit I’m a bit tired of Matron’s little business ventures but I’m sure I can sneak in a bit of chemical creativity.”

“Could you maybe not do any weird shit to me this time?”

“Oh honey, you haven’t even seen weird yet.”

Miranda already regretted coming here, but how else was she going to stop herself from spreading her legs for the next beast she saw?

Doctor Isobel clapped her hands twice and the maid appeared at the door. “Annalise, warm up the machine. Our favorite patient has finally returned.”

At the doctor’s urging, she stripped slowly from her clothes, ashamed of every fresh bruise and bite mark she revealed.

“It will be a slightly different process this time.” She offered Miranda a long feeding tube with straps attached. “Put this down your throat.”

Any doubt she had did not last. Her need to be free of the corruption was so great she would have done anything. She would have put a gun in her mouth if the Doctor told her.

Miranda fought back the gag as she slid the tube into the back of her throat, tears springing into her eyes.

“Is that as deep as you can go? There really is a lot of work to be done.” Doctor Isabel held her by the back of the neck and forced the tube down so she could fit the attached straps around her head. “There we are.”

Isobel seemed to get some satisfaction from making Miranda load herself into the machine and lock herself in. Her only resistance was a single choking sob as she spread her legs to put them in the stirrups.

“Can’t have you hurting yourself.” She fitted the last shackle tight around Miranda’s ankle. “How’s that? Nice and secure?”

Miranda gave a token pull at the device and couldn’t move an inch.

“Good. Good. Now let’s get you set up.” With Annalise’s help, they began sticking her with needles and applying diodes all over her body, most of them centered around her modest breasts. “I must wonder what little fib the Matron told to get you in here.”

Miranda looked on in confusion, realizing the Matron was not entirely truthful about what was supposed to happen here. But as long as the corruption was kept at bay she didn’t care anymore.

Miranda had her eyes clamped shut during the process, willing her to believe herself somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere where she wasn’t naked and vulnerable.

But she was shaken from her meditative state when the first metal clip bit down on her nipple. She moaned in pain and opened her eyes to see Isobel with a hungry look on her face, heading towards insanity.

Miranda struggled as a clip latched itself to her other nipple, sending a fierce pain through her.

“Now, now. Don’t be so put off by the pain. You’ll feel much worse by the end of the procedure.” The Doctor gave Miranda’s thigh a firm squeeze. “Annalise?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Have you been servicing her?”

“Yes, Doctor. I have.”

While Miranda let out muffled screams of protest, the maid detailed her recent history of strap-on fucks and morning cunnilingus. And a rundown of her treatment of the basement slave.

“Interesting.”

“She has also had sexual relations with the dog.”

Miranda let out a last mortified shriek before settling into an angry silence.

“Incredible, she’s gone the pervert path even quicker than the others.”

The Doctor pressed a small device to the arch of Miranda’s foot, a moment later hitting her with a fierce electrical shock. The feeling was so intense it sent Miranda into fits.

“Ooh, very receptive. What part of your body should we do this time?” Then her eyes slid to the boiling pink fluid. “Ugh, I suppose that can wait. We have other concerns.”

The tube in Miranda’s mouth was attached to an elevated container, and it was this container that the Doctor poured the pink fluid.

The thick goo crept down the tube and Miranda could only watch it approach.

It was only halfway down when the machine hummed to life and the injections began, flushing her system. And the pink fluid had barely passed her lips when the electrical jolts began, tearing through her body.

Unlike the first time, she didn’t pass out. As the machine rumbled, a darkness pulled at the edge of her vision, but a sharp electric shock always brought her back. Forcing her to watch the process as she sobbed.

And through all the competing pain and torture, the weight of the pink fluid was pulled down her throat.

Then a different sensation began. It started as an intense heat in her chest.

The heat rose, blossomed until it was even more powerful than the tortuous pain of the nipple clamps.

Another bolt of heat and she watched in horror as her breasts began to swell, every pulse bringing an ounce of weight.

This was a horror she had not been prepared for.

Everything else could be written off as temporary, the sensitivity and the strange thoughts, she could believe that those were all changes that could be recovered from if given enough time away, but there was nothing temporary about this.

Miranda screamed and pleaded for her to stop as best she could through the tube jammed down her throat.

Between electrical shocks, she caught sight of the Doctor, operating the controls while the maid furiously ate her out.

———

By the time the procedure was done, Miranda was a broken wreck. When they removed her from the machine, she slumped to the floor naked, unable to even cover herself.

Although her entire body was aching, her brutalized chest was the worst or the pain.

“What did you do to me?”

Isobel was filling a syringe from an unmarked bottle. “Not even a thank you?” She slid behind Miranda and slapped her ass. “One more injection for the road.”

The sharp pinch of it entering her ass cheek was only one more drop in the bucket of torment she’d faced today.

As the Doctor pumped the liquid into her veins, she leaned in to whisper in Miranda’s ear. “How does that feel? I saved some dirty needles just for you.” With the injection done, she gave her one last slap on the rear. “Come back when you’re ready for more.”

———

After the operation, Miranda returned home. She collapsed in bed, unable to sleep for the new collection of aches wreaking havoc on her body. Not only the new weight and painful throbbing in her chest. She could also feel clusters of heat all over her body, marking new changes to her physiology. This is exactly what she’d been afraid of, the reason she’d avoided the doctor until now.

She had her sanity back, but at what cost?

Miranda had almost dozed off when she heard the dog scratching at her door. No doubt it was hungry for another go at her.

All at once the anger hit her. Anger at every force in this town working against her. The Matron, the Doctor, that shithead weaponsmith, even the maid couldn’t be trusted. Every one of them was conspiring to keep her in the same loop of corruption.

Sure, she’d only gained a couple sizes this time, but what else did she change. And how bad would it be next time, or the next?

The sleepiness left her and she prepared to leave.

Weapons in hand, she fled into the night, determined never to return.

There was no plan, only a direction. Anywhere but here. She continued past the quiet menace of the village with her eyes on the distant cathedral district.

The road was long and plagued by beasts, but the need to escape kept her moving.

Winged creatures swooped down from above to snatch her head from her body and she dodged and weaved to fend them off. Her escape would be over if one of these creatures killed her and sent her back home.

Traveling through an unknown part of town made the time that passed even more uncertain than normal. As the scenery changed, the paths became winding trails, passing gnarled fencing and impossible spires.

After hours and hours of travel, exhaustion shuffled her into cold alley next to the largest cathedral.

When she was on the verge of giving up, a door creaked open and a rectangle of light extended to where Miranda lay.

The light blinded her momentarily.

“Do you require shelter, hunter?”

Her vision cleared and in the doorway was the dim silhouette of a young woman wearing an approximation of nun’s clothing.

“Who are you?”

“Come inside, please.” The cathedral dweller helped Miranda to her feet and led her into the imposing structure.

There was a brief moment as she was led through the building when Miranda swore she could see a large shape perched in the highest alcove, clinging to the ceiling. But the shape vanished as soon as she tried to focus on it.

Despite the chill surrounding the cathedral, the living quarters were cozy and warm. And more than anything, they felt safe in here.

The dweller served her a humble meal of soup and bread, which was a far cry from the meals the maid would serve. But being out here was much safer than the nightmare back home, even if the beasts were worse.

As she ate, the dweller kept staring at Miranda with an unsettling amount of adoration and awe.

“Do you not get many visitors around here?”

“No, hardly at all. Certainly not many hunters anymore. And most certainly not one from outside. You are from outside, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

She clapped her hands together. “Oh, I must inform the Vicar. She will be most pleased to hear of your arrival.”

“Well, actually I was just passing through.”

“But you must stay. Don’t you require sustenance?”

It was true that she was still suffering a wave of aches and pains from the Doctor’s procedure. “I guess I could stay a little while.”

“You must!”

Although she was still reluctant to remain with this stranger, Miranda was too tired to resist accommodation. As she finished her meal, the dweller excitedly prepared for her a humble room with a warm cot.

More than anything, she wanted to strip off her clothes and ease the pain in her chest, but the dweller was still lingering, being conspicuous.

As she settled on the cot, the dweller touched her shoulder gently. “You seem in great distress. May I help?”

“No, I…”

“Please. This is why I’m here.”

Miranda was disarmed by the earnest woman begging to serve, and she finally allowed herself to be attended to.

The dweller eased her out of each article of clothing, stopping after each one to massage her sore muscles or to apply aid to the various scratches and wounds from her hunt.

It lulled Miranda into a pleasant comfort. She had almost fallen asleep when the dweller eased off her boots and began rubbing her feet. She awoke with a start at the sudden sensation, even more severe than usual.

“Are you in pain?”

“No, I… They’re just sensitive. The doctor did something to me.”

“Doctor?” Her eyes lit up. “Have you been blessed with blood ministrations? Oh what joyous news.”

“It’s not a good thing.”

“Of course it is. The blood ministrations bring us closer to the Great Ones, and the desire they bring is a gift.” Her skilled hands resumed their work on Miranda’s foot. “I hope to one day receive such a gift, but until then I have been trained to aid those who are further along in their journey than I.”

“But I… Wait…” The sensations were building, sending Miranda’s body into an unbearable heat.

The dweller looked up at her with a servile joy. “Shall I provide nourishment?”

Without waiting for a response, the dweller lowered her mouth to Miranda’s toes and began to suck, driving Miranda into an uncontrolled series of body shudders.

The rest of the night was spent letting the dweller show her new sensations that had not been possible with her old body.

Chapter Text

Though she had planned not to stay, Miranda found it hard to leave the cathedral when she had free meals and a bed to sleep in. And an eager woman willing to keep that bed warm.

In addition to cooking and cleaning, the cathedral dweller Herasine had been overjoyed to also provide sexual gratification, despite her church girl appearance.

What a relief it was to be able to have sex that wasn’t motivated by craven cum lust.

As the days wore on, Miranda kept watch for Matron’s enforcers, but they never approached her new home. By now she was well past overdue for another shift, but no sign of her goons. Either they couldn’t find her yet, or this cathedral district was too spooky, even for them.

The cathedral dweller had been high energy since Miranda arrived, glad to have someone to serve. But sitting around being waited on made Miranda restless, so she would often go out hunting.

The creatures that had roamed the village were at least identifiable as beasts, with the occasional amorphous mass thrown in, but the creatures surrounding the cathedral were far more horrendous.

When she met the crawling mass of knotted flesh on her latest excursion, she wasn’t sure where to strike it. It didn’t have a distinguishable head to cut off. But it had plenty of mouths. And tendrils.

She made her best guess and hit it with a killing strike, splitting it between the two largest mouths.

After letting out a shrill screech, it collapsed with a wet slap on the ground. Although it seemed dead already, she wasn’t convinced and approached it blade-first.

Sticking it with her spear called up a spurt of dark blood. But as soon as she wrote it off as slain, the creature quivered and blinded her with a sudden flash of red luminescence, emanating from its entire body.

It pushed her through a wave of red madness like passing through a tunnel, and by the time she emerged out the other side, she’d dropped her weapon and let the creature grab her.

Kicking and punching at it, but it still overpowered her, even with a large chunk of its body ripped in half.

Just like every horrible abomination around here, it wanted to plant its seed in her, but seemed to have trouble navigating a human form.

It first tried jabbing into the divot of her belly button, before giving up on trying to press through her shirt and moving to slide across her face and neck.

She felt slimy appendages wrapping around her ankles. If she waited any longer, it was going to figure out which hole was which.

After trying to pry its way into her nose, the tendril on her face finally found her mouth and rammed in, forcing her jaw open.

When she tried to pull it out, her fingers couldn’t get a grip on the slimy surface.

Her weapon was out of reach and the creature had too good of a hold on her. Options were dwindling. And already she could feel a pressure on her ass, jabbing at her and trying to worm its way in. She could feel the fabric protecting her beginning to tear.

No choice. Her pistol was the only choice left, and she had to hope she’d be able to hit it somewhere that counted. In a moment of doubt she considered turning the gun on herself, but that would only put her back at the villa and that was no longer an option.

She pressed the barrel to the meatiest part she could reach and fired.

This time the death screech was genuine as its vital organs were obliterated and shot out its back in a spray.

In its death throes the tentacle in her mouth squirmed and a rush of chunky fluid erupted directly into the back of her throat. A matching deluge of slime soaked her ass.

———

Miranda was still spitting up the horrid, chunky slime it had left in her mouth when Etcetera appeared from the shadows.

“You look like you’ve been keeping busy.”

Miranda flinched and wiped her mouth. “How did you find me?”

“What do you mean ‘how’? Were you trying to hide?” She pulled off her mask. “I never got the chance to congratulate you on the paleblood hunt. It’s a promising first victory.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that.” She was still having dreams of the violent gang rape that had ended that particular mission.

“The beast is dead, so it was a roaring success.” She froze and cocked her head to the side, listening. “Come on, since you’re lounging around this part of town anyway, we have a paleblood to hunt.”

Gritting her teeth to ignore the wet spots on her clothing, Miranda followed after her. Etcetera had a familiarity with these streets and twisted avenues that Miranda was sorely lacking.

As they traveled, Etcetera would stop regularly to examine tracks and signs that Miranda couldn’t see, before leading them confidently down a new avenue.

Ultimately, they ended up in a ruined courtyard where the wind didn’t reach.

“Let’s wait here. If we’re lucky, it’ll pass this way and make our job easy.”

So they waited, and Miranda realized the breadth of difference between her and the crow woman. A real hunter had patience and tact and didn’t go on murder sprees that left her with strange fluids and what might have been eggs dripping from her mouth.

As she sat there, the mess on her ass was seeping into her skin. Maybe she should have refused and gone home to change.

Etcetera checked her blades as she watched the road. “So why aren’t you staying in the village?”

“I can’t trust anyone there.” Reminded of her new breasts, Miranda leaned forward to try and hide them. “Living in a church is better than working in a brothel.”

Etcetera shrugged. “If you say so, but there are parts of town that are far worse than one where you have to give a few blowjobs.”

“I didn’t blow anyone!”

“Shh! It’s here.”

The creature roamed into the view and Miranda was struck by how massive it was. “What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong? Did you expect them all to be strung up meat piles? A lot of them even look human.”

“We’re supposed to kill that?”

“You’re supposed to kill it. It only counts if you get the killing blow.” Then she was up and charging ahead.

Etcetera was a dark wind blowing in as she slashed the creature across the chest. Her plan was to keep it busy long enough for Miranda to gut it, but she’d been a lightning rod for bad luck lately.

As she raised the blade, Miranda was drenched for a brief moment in that familiar dark signal that had haunted her at the prison. She was far removed from the corruption so it could only effect her for a split second, but that was enough to throw off her aim. Vague images of defilement rushing through her mind. Of being speared on a length of cursed meat.

It still weakened her hold enough to dampen her strike. Her spear nicked its jaw and it smacked her away with a huge gnarled paw.

Miranda had the wind knocked out of her and only heard the struggle as the beast overpowered Etcetera and escaped the scene wounded.

When Miranda had recovered her breath, Etcetera was not happy.

“What were you doing?”

“I… I just missed, okay?”

“Are you not taking this seriously?” She got to her feet, favoring one leg. “Forget it. It’s going to go back into hiding now. We’ll have to wait for another chance.”

She wanted to argue that it wasn’t her fault, but an echo of the darkness flashed into her mind, showing her being lowered into the mouth of a monster.

She shuddered and let Etcetera leave without another word.

Miranda returned to the cathedral alone, limping and listening to her heartbeat race.

Already she could feel the pulse in her blood from the corruption returning. It would still be manageable for some time, but how long would it take before she needed to crawl back to the doctor?

Herasine was waiting inside, perking up as soon as she walked in the door. “How was your excursion, hunter?”

“Could have gone better.”

The dweller fetched her a meal and watched her with joy in her eyes as Miranda ate. But with every bite she couldn’t help but wonder how long this could continue. It put her in a foul mood.

But here was this overly pleasant church girl, acting like Miranda was a god walking on earth. She should invite her to bed. But as she was considering it, a vision of throttling her and abusing her forced its way into her mind.

The dweller saw her sudden distress. “Are you well? Do you require other sustenance?”

“No, I…” She wiped her mouth and bit her thumb. “It’s the sickness that has me not acting myself.”

“The corruption? I’ve heard how it affects the chosen.”

“I don’t suppose you know any way to relieve it that doesn’t involve a certain doctor.”

The dweller nodded. “There are members of the congregation who have cures for the corruption, even for what a hunter might face.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, but you must be willing to dedicate yourself to the Vicar’s teachings.”

“Sure. Do I have to prove that in any way?”

“All that is required is your dedication.”

“Then, yeah. No problem.”

After a brief nap and a bath, the dweller led her to a solemn building in the complex of cathedrals. Inside a figure was waiting for them, wearing a set of ornate robes and a cloth mask draped over his face.

“Is this the new initiate?”

The dweller bowed. “Yes. I have sent word to the Vicar.”

“Good. Prepare her in the chamber and return to your duties. I will perform the purification.”

She took Miranda back to a darkened room and gestured to device in the center with a robe slung over it.

“Please undress and change into the provided garb so that the purification can commence.”

Miranda picked up the garment. It felt unbelievably thin between her fingers. Everything about this situation seemed sketchier by the second, but it was still a million miles more legit that anything else she’d done since arriving in town.

She sighed and began to undress as Herasine moved around the room, lighting incense which filled the room with an aromatic smoke.

The ceremonial robe made her uncomfortable. It revealed the new curves of her body and her suddenly pronounced chest that she would have rather remained hidden. And the material was so sheer, the shadow of her nipples were showing through.

“This is… Is this really necessary?”

The dweller lit the final burner which cast her in a soft glow. “A certain openness is required to facilitate your induction.”

If nothing else, the revealing outfit was better then being fully naked and violated by the Doctor’s machine.

Herasine directed her to sit atop the oddly shaped seat in the center, which she could only use by straddling it and leaning all her weight on her hands so it didn’t press hard into her crotch.

This pose alone would have been enough to get her to call this ceremony off, but the smoke had imparted in her an unusual calm.

Before leaving, the dweller gathered and folded Miranda’s clothing, frowning slightly at it. “Now that you are a devotee, you will need a more appropriate wardrobe.” Then she stopped at the sight of Miranda, suddenly overcome. “You look so beautiful.”

Miranda blushed and looked away.

Even with the awkward pose, Miranda was deeply soothed. She could almost believe that the warmth of this room was leeching away the filth infecting her body.

And when the masked man entered, she had forgotten her shame.

He did a lap around the room, checking the burners while flexing his hands around a long, thin cane. When he was satisfied, he moved behind Miranda.

“To overpower the thoughts that lead you astray, you must become one with a greater power.” He pulled aside her robe to expose her ass. “And to do that you must learn penance.”

He whipped her hard across the backside and she shrieked with surprise.

She was dazed by the sudden strike, incapable of forming a protest. Her limbs had already filled with the smoke, so she remained still, mewling weakly as he continued whipping her.

One strike after another, each one feeling like a fierce bite.

More than anything she was confused by the pain and the mix of feelings brought on by this treatment.

Despite the stinging pain, she began to raise her ass in anticipation of each strike, unable to stop the moan that came out as each new red mark was added to her skin.

If she weren’t being watched she would have touched herself.

The pain started to overtake her pleasure and she moaned out a request for him to stop. As soon as she resisted and tried to move away, he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back down hard, following it with an even harder strike.

“Wait, stop. You can keep doing it, but just let me rest.”

Her meager pleas fell on deaf ears. In fact, the more painful it became, the faster and harder he spanked her.

It continued endlessly, until the pain became so great everything below her waist was a numb fire. Even though her wrists weren’t bound, she had no strength to protest or protect herself, only sob until the front of her robe was soaked through with tears and drool. The fabric bunched up against her crotch had also been become sopping wet.

All at once the punishment stopped, the burning pain still pulsing hot.

Her arms were weak, wobbling. Still unable to move as the attendant watched her silently and waited.

Rage had been fierce within her when the doctor had put her through the wringer. But that was missing now. For some reason, the pain felt like her fault. The only reason she’d come here was in hopes of easing the corruption. But her mind drifted back to the cathouse and the secret glee she felt whenever a customer abused her, defiled her.

The longer she suffered her memory, the more the burning pain turned into a deep need to feel the cane again.

She was sniffling as she raised her ass to him. “Please. I need more.”

He remained silent.

“Don’t make me beg for it.”

“Why do you need it? Why do you deserve it?”

Her mind flashed to her last visit with Gilbert, to the blowjob that tipped him over into becoming a beast. “Because I’m a whore.”

Even though she was asking for it, she wasn’t prepared for how intense the feeling would be when he struck her again. And not just once. He rained down hits on her brutalized ass.

The sudden pain broke her and she collapsed, scream dying in her throat at the same moment her body shuddered in orgasm as the pain became her entire being.

The spanking continued for a time until the devotee determined she had reached a state of proper penance and stopped. By that point she was a lump of dead weight, nearly comatose.

After being released from the chamber, Miranda laid down in an adjoining room, nursing her burning ass.

The pleasure had long gone and now she was stuck with the lingering ache.

The corruption had also subsided, which was good, but how much humiliation and torment would she have to endure to keep her sanity?

All she wanted now was to get her clothes back, even though she wouldn’t be able to wear them.

As she was laying there, wincing, a voluptuous woman appeared in the doorway.

“Ah, our new member, I presume?”

Miranda was taken aback by the warm glow of this woman. “Oh. Yes? I think so.”

Miranda attempted to adjust her pitiful robe to look less hard ridden and distressed, the need to look nice driven by the strong aura of authority emanating from this woman. It occurred to her as she got close that this must be the Vicar she’d heard about.

She knelt next to Miranda, the scent of flowers following her. “I hope my devotees have not given you too unkind of a welcome.” She offered her a bottle and peeled off the cap for her. “Here. Something for the pain.”

Miranda sniffed the contents of the bottle. “Is this milk?”

“Better than that. Go on.”

The drink touched her lips, thick and pungent. It took some effort to drink it down, a calming heat blooming through her as she pulled it down her throat. It sat heavy in her belly.

“How does that taste?”

“Strange. It’s good, I think.” She licked her lips. “It makes me feel kind of warm.”

“Does it make you feel anything else?”

The Vicar was in such close proximity that it was stirring up a different need in her that was hard to separate from what the milk was doing. “I don’t know.”

“Make sure you drink every drop.” She pushed a stray dribble of the milk back into Miranda’s mouth, who suckled on her thumb.

Miranda pulled away abruptly. “I… sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, dear. I’m nothing if not charitable to the needs of my flock, even the new recruits.” The Vicar leaned in further, her bountiful chest inches from Miranda’s face, where she could see a curious wet spot spreading. “So let me ask you honestly. Is there anything you require?”

Miranda fumbled for an answer. “A way out.”

“Oh?”

“I’m trying to get out of this town.”

“Well, if you properly join our flock, I may be able to fulfill that request.”

“What? Really?”

“Anything is possible for those that follow the teachings.” She placed a kiss on Miranda’s neck and stood up. “I can feel it already. You are destined for greatness. But you will need to face one more test before I’m sure. Are you willing to take the next step?”

“Okay. I guess so.”

The Vicar snapped her fingers. “Say ‘yes, mother’.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Good girl.”

As she left, the pain in her ass had already dulled, superseded by the throbbing heat from her belly.

Eventually Miranda got tired of waiting and went back alone to her room at the cathedral living quarters.

She found her old clothes neatly folded on her bed, but the dweller was nowhere to be found.

It was still tough to sit down and she stepped into her clothes gingerly. As she did, she noticed that there was also a new warm ache in her breasts that she couldn’t explain.

As she buttoned her shirt, she longed for the wardrobe at the villa. If it weren’t so dangerous to return, she would have loved to lock her door and slide into something slutty. Only for a moment to keep the constant itch at bay.

Miranda headed out into the night. Without the ability to indulge, killing was the only prescription. And if that didn’t work, she’d have to take advantage of the cathedral dweller.

Something about being out tonight didn’t feel correct. Her desire to kill felt flat, like she’d be better off going home and sleeping. She was ready to write off this trip when she met her target.

Down a dark road, she found herself face to face with the huge paleblooded creature she had hunted with Etcetera. It still dripped thin blood from wounds that refused to close.

They saw each other and stopped. Miranda wasn’t prepared to meet this beast again without Etcetera’s help.

Doubt froze her for too long, and the creature charged. She’d barely readied her weapon when the creature smacked her with its huge paw.

Miranda went flying, bouncing across the ground like a skipping stone.

When she finally skidded to a stop, the beast was already closing the distance.

She threw herself out of the way, diving into a narrow alleyway to escape.

It was too large to give chase, snapping its jaws and reaching into the passage, howling as she disappeared around a corner.

She kept scooting through sideways, barely able to fit. Then when the passage ended, she used the confined space to climb onto a low roof. When the breeze hit her, she noticed the blood leaking from her nose and shoulder. She ignored it and scrambled over the loose shingles.

The construction of the buildings here made no sense, and her attempt to escape led her to a beam crossing over where the creature was hunched over, oblivious to her.

As she crept along the overhang, the beast was still sniffing and clawing at the spot where she’d slipped out of view.

There wasn’t going to be a better chance than this.

She took a moment to summon the rage that got her through most days, struggling to build it up.

Miranda dropped and drove her spear directly into its back, the beast screaming. But her strike didn’t have the satisfying resistance of cutting into meat.

She had a split second to realize that whatever she had stabbed was a swollen mass of rot. The pustule burst and she was hit in the face with a fierce spray of green liquid.

With one shake, she was knocked loose and the creature fled into the night, leaving Miranda, soaked head to toe, to choke on and vomit up the sludge.

Miranda was spitting out the vile goo the entire way back to the cathedral. Thankfully the dweller had returned, looking on in mild surprise at the mess in the doorway.

Miranda wiped off one more scoop of green muck from her soaked clothes. “Bath, please.”

“Yes. Right away.”

The dweller had to change the water twice before the slime let go its hold on her.

When she was satisfied that she’d scrubbed away every drop of filth, Herasine gave her a shoulder rub as Miranda let the heat of the water soak into her body. Each time the dweller moved to a new part of her body, she chased the massage with gentle kisses.

Half dozing, Miranda let her mind roam. She imagined the cathouse guards bursting in here and dragging her back. She gave her breasts a hard squeeze, thinking of how nice it would be to go back and get fucked, wrap her lips around a cock.

Miranda snapped out of her reverie with a start, frightened by the strength of those thoughts. Getting drenched in monster slime was not helping her efforts to remain sane. There was a sting of panic at the knowledge that her hunt may have reversed entirely the long cleansing ceremony she had suffered through.

When the bath was done, she allowed Herasine to continue her casual worship.

It was still difficult to be naked in front of anyone, but she felt at ease in front of the dweller as she toweled her dry.

“I heard you met the Vicar.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Wasn’t she wonderful?”

Her cheeks flushed as she thought of the taste of milk and her thumb in her mouth. “…yeah.”

“She recommended you for an induction ceremony. This is a great honor.”

“If you say so.”

There was a knock on the door and the dweller’s eyes lit up. “My goodness. She’s here.”

“Who is that?”

“I told the Vicar about your inclinations and she agreed to send another initiate to help welcome you to our order.”

“What sort of welcome?”

“Let me fetch her.”

Her clothes were beyond soiled so Miranda wrapped herself in a robe to hide her body, holding it tight as Herasine answered the door.

A dark eyed woman entered, dressed much like the dweller. They nodded at each other, then turned their gaze to Miranda.

“What is this?”

The dweller led her into the bedroom while the dark eyed initiate followed. “The Vicar believes you valuable enough that my skills alone are not enough to show our deep gratitude for joining our order.” She sat Miranda down on the bed and the initiate joined them, pinning Miranda between their bodies.

Miranda was nervous at the sudden close contact, Herasine’s hands already roaming, attempting to disrobe her. “Are you serious?”

The initiate took Miranda’s face in her hands and gazed deep into her eyes. “May I please you, hunter?”

She kissed Miranda hard, tongue pressing into her mouth with a force that stirred her deeply. One last surprised moan as Herasine began sucking Miranda’s fingers.

When agreeing to join what was probably a cult, she hadn’t expected to ever be the object of such worship, the two women teaming up to lick and suck and rub and stroke every part of her body.

This gift had the intended effect as Miranda felt herself enamored with the Vicar, her thoughts drifting to her often as she was repeatedly serviced.

She was still thinking about the Vicar as she rode the initiate’s face, the girl stroking the bottoms of Miranda’s feet as she ate her out with her expert tongue.

It was an overwhelming amount of sensation, but Miranda was introduced to an entirely new sensation as the dweller knelt behind and parted Miranda’s ass. New moans arose unbidden from her as the dweller’s tongue pressed against her asshole, teasing its way inside.

It was such a powerful feeling that Miranda was afraid it was a side effect of her last visit with the doctor. She tried to remember if she’d done anything to her ass, but the feeling of being eaten out from both sides was so good and so strong, it was impossible to think about anything else, not even the lingering resentment that sent her here.

Even so, her scrambled mind focused on a certain detail of the Vicar that had passed her by before. The bit of moisture on the front of her dress. And it was in that moment that she finally put together that the drink she’d been given had been the Vicar’s breast milk.

That knowledge sent a tremor through her and she reached behind to force Herasine deeper into her ass as she came in the initiate’s mouth.

Late into the sapphic bacchanal, Miranda was lost to a frenzy of masturbation while the initiate worked on her feet. Every bite and nibble sent her body into spasms.

Herasine was feeding her morsels of food, following each bite with a kiss. Eventually she began putting the food in her own mouth and baby-birding it to Miranda.

The night passed in dreamy starts, new positions and arrangements of limbs bringing new floods of endorphins coursing through her.

Miranda finally lost consciousness with her head nestled against the dwellers chest, completely hollowed out by the experience.

——

At some point during her long sleep, Miranda woke to find the other girl had vanished in the night, so to satisfy her lingering cravings, Miranda held the dweller tight and fingered her from behind.

She continued until another wave of sleepiness hit her.

A hundred years later she awoke deeply satiated, only wearing blankets.

Herasine was drifting through the living quarters, cleaning and straightening.

Miranda stayed in bed for as long as she could, recovering her strength until hunger final pushed her out of bed, wrapped in a sheet.

“If you are well, hunter, there is an appointment you must keep. It’s the second ceremony to finish your induction into the Vicar’s flock. You are to become a supplicant.”

Before now, Miranda had no interest in humoring any religious weirdos any more than absolutely necessary. But she had been so thoroughly, perfectly fucked, that she had been turned into a warm pile of modeling clay. She would have done anything the Vicar asked of her.

Her one outfit that she had escaped with was now beyond ruined, a sponge for green rot. No amount of cleaning was ever going to make it wearable again.

But the dweller was prepared and had already sourced an outfit not unlike her own in style, but of much higher quality.

Miranda feigned displeasure but secretly she was relieved to finally be able to wear a real dress. And when her feet slid into the high heeled boots the dweller provided, the act of her foot being pressed into the correct shape stoked her lust.

As the dweller led her to the appointed place, Miranda wondered if there would be any more spanking this time. The mood she was in, she might not even mind. She might even like it.

The room for the ceremony was similar to the last one, but this chamber had a long, low slab beneath a high, spiraling ceiling.

As she entered, censers were already burning, filling the room with a fragrant smoke even stronger than the last time. One whiff and she was already wobbling on her feet.

Herasine was unwilling to even step foot inside, as this chamber was far beyond her station. She bowed as an attendant approached. It seemed like a different person than the one who had beat her last time, but it was hard to tell through the mask.

“Welcome, supplicant.” He waved the dweller away and addressed Miranda directly. “You will be alone for this ceremony. You must take off your clothing and meditate.” He gestured to the slab in the center. “Lay there and contemplate the unknowable.”

“Is that all? How do I know when I’m done?”

“You will know. And afterwards, we will know if you are prepared to accept the greatest of gifts.”

He left her to puzzle that over alone, locking the door to the chamber.

She was skeptical about how effective this could possibly be. The previous ceremony had amazingly seemed to help. And if this one didn’t do anything, well, she could at least get an extra nap in.

The incense filling the chamber was already having a calming effect on her. Suddenly her dress felt heavy on her, and she slipped out of it. There was no incentive to do as she was asked, but stripping off her clothes felt right.

The deep heat of the room made if feel womb-like, warm enough that there was no chill as she laid down naked.

Even though she expected to sleep, the chamber inspired a certain restlessness in her.

As she lay upon the slab, her hands roamed across her body.

This was the first time she’d really examined her new breasts. Slowly massaging them as her limbs grew weak.

She had tried until now to ignore them, pretend they didn’t exist, but in this moment the weight of them was comforting.

Her eyes followed the spiral pattern above her, the gentle curves hypnotizing her into a quiet reverence.

And then something moved.

At the very apex of the spiral was a shadowy figure, impossibly large and staring down at her. As soon as her eyes settled on it, Miranda was paralyzed.

She couldn’t look away or close her eyes, forced to watch a form that was pulling her mind apart just from the sight of it.

From it’s mass, one impossibly long tendril extended down from the darkness.

Miranda wanted to run, could picture herself running to the door and screaming for help, but her muscles wouldn’t budge. By the time it reached her, she was a helpless lump.

The tentacle pressed to her ankle and a bolt of heat shot through her. She moaned and wailed as it examined her body, each body part it touched was overcome by a burning probe that sent her into convulsions.

The tendril slipped across her skin, leaving a trail of thin slime. Testing her for pliability and fertility.

Her body was not ready yet, but it would be soon.

At last the tentacle reached her face, dangling in a wordless command. It implored her to submit her body to rule by a greater entity. Her mind was already gone, replaced by need and smoke. And so she opened her mouth wide to accept her new master.

It plunged inside her warm, wet mouth.

Her body was distant and unimportant. All that mattered was her mouth, and using that mouth to worship this entity. Opening her throat to accept more of its blessing.

Every thrust and twist down her throat brought her closer to true ecstasy.

Eyes rolled back, toes curling, muscles spasming as it gifted her with a meal of infernal semen. The corruption from this creature was different. It changed her blood, turning her into a more suitable receptacle for a divine seed.

And as it pounded her to deposit another load, defiling her, Miranda was overcome by a powerful, full-body orgasm.

———

Miranda woke later from what she assumed was a fever dream. There was no other way to describe the strange flashes of memory already fading away.

Had the treatment worked? She couldn’t be sure though for some reason she felt that she had been made better by it.

Even though she’d been lying there still, she felt wrung out and exhausted, unable to even stand.

Even the act of pulling on her dress was a miserable labor.

She was still recovering when the Vicar arrived, stepping into the chamber.

The Vicar closed her eyes briefly, receiving a message from beyond. A smile spread across her face. “You are the one after all.”

Miranda tried to get to her feet, but a deep ache stopped her.

“Oh, poor child. Let me help.” She cradled Miranda like a child, petting her face softly as she eased her down. “This is a glorious day. You are rough now, but with the proper effort, I believe you can bear us a miracle.”

“I don’t know what happened. My body hurts.”

“The pain will pass, I’ll see to that.” She reached up and pulled at the ribbon holding her corseted dress secure. Her bountiful breasts spilling out. “You are one of my flock now, and so I must provide when you are in need.”

“Wait, I…” Miranda tried to pull away but the Vicar hushed her.

“Now, now. You must get your strength back. And to do that you must drink.” Her nipples were already dripping, heavy with milk as the Vicar brushed a nipple against Miranda’s lips.

Miranda still didn’t feel well. She was confused and her mind scorched. More than anything she wanted to get away from this strange situation and how it felt, but eventually her need for this beautiful motherly figure won out.

With a whimper, she parted her lips and wrapped them around the offered nipple, warm milk already spilling out.

“There you are. Such a good girl.” She readjusted her grip so she could more easily feed Miranda. “Did you enjoy the gift I sent you? Did she help you reach new heights of pleasure?”

Miranda moaned weakly, her mouth full, struggling to take the first swallow.

“There are even greater pleasures to show you. The true pleasure of finding your purpose.”

The breast milk flooded her mouth and she compulsively swallowed it, gulping down the creamy flood.

“Hunting beasts and indulging in the flesh of women. These are transitory gratifications. But I can tell you desire a greater ascension.”

Every swallow of milk sent a ripple of intense heat through her body. Kicking her feet as a drunken haze settled over her.

“Do you feel the warmth moving through you?” She moved her hand to the area below Miranda’s navel that had begun to throb. “Don’t you want to be a source of that warmth? To feel that warmth and give it to others?”

The milk had suffused her body in a new need. Not just to be fucked, but to be filled. But the strength of that sudden need was frightening.

More than anything else, she needed to get out of this room.

After one last gulp, Miranda wiped her mouth and pulled away from her, milk spilling down her chin. “I should go.”

“If you truly want to leave this place and move on to a greater plane, all you must do is ask.”

Miranda nodded weakly, keeping her eyes to the floor as she pulled on her boots.

The Vicar was smiling at her, bare breasts still out as Miranda shuffled out of the room.

She wanted to believe her about the escape, but if escape were even possible, why was anyone still here?

Even so, she felt a deep magnetism pulling her toward the Vicar, urging her to trust her.

With the last of her willpower, Miranda forced herself to leave behind that shadowy chamber, unaware of the specifics of the new changes to her body, but sure that something was wrong.

———

Being indoors anywhere was giving her the sensation of being strangled, so Miranda took up her weapon and headed out into the night.

The full body heat had settled into her belly, right where the Vicar had touched her, matched by a strange ache in her throat. Whether it was the ceremony, or the milk, or both, she was having new troubles.

If she stopped for a moment, her thoughts turned to pink fog. The only way to keep focused was to keep walking, praying for a fight to clear her head.

A black wind blew and when Miranda turned, she saw Etcetera approaching.

“There you are. What have you been doing all this time?”

Miranda tried to put a number to how long it had been since she’d last seen her. Couldn’t have been more than a day or two. But that felt wrong when she thought back to the deep sleep that had followed her threesome gift. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy.”

“What could you possibly be doing?” She stopped and looked at Miranda’s outfit. “Why are you dressed like that? You’re not getting in with a local cult, are you?”

“Ugh, no. Now are we going to kill something or not?”

The beast was not hard to find.

Even though she’d met it recently, it looked like it had aged an eon. Skinnier and malnourished, still dripping infected goo from its back.

But sickly or not, it was still prepared to fight.

This encounter went much like the last time, Etcetera taking the lead, managing to slash and break the beast’s hind leg with a resounding crack.

Miranda charged in, but mid-run she realized she was still wearing heels. Her lack of experience in walking caused her to take a tumble on the first loose rock she met, but it was a lucky tumble as it caused her to narrowly miss being decapitated by the creature’s huge claw.

After landing hard and rolling she struck blind. Her blade sunk deep in its throat. In the brief moment where it was stunned and gurgling, she planted her feet and slashed its neck open.

It fell over with a hard crash as blood gushed from the wound.

A dull throb pushed at her mind and as she watched, the blood dripping from her blade shot up the handle to her hand where it soaked into her skin. As soon as it did, the world grew dark and the moon pulsed and grew huge in the sky.

She collapsed as her eyes went wild and the dark signal invaded her mind, much stronger than what she had seen in the prison facility. Kicking and screaming as it crawled inside her.

Distantly aware of Etcetera holding her down while the vision wreaked havoc on her.

The first time had been bad, but this was so much worse. Now it felt like something dark and cursed had a physical grip on her brain, squeezing it dry.

Blinded by a vivid image of unknowable creatures inventing new ways to defile her flesh.

Thousands of teeth tearing into her, and each hole they tore open was a new way to get fucked.

———

She snapped out of the vision an hour later, soaked in sweat and gagging on her own spit. Her skin and bones itching.

Etcetera sat watching her recover, sitting near the huge mass of dead meat.

It took time before Miranda could form words again. “What happened? It was worse that time.”

“And it will probably be even worse the next time after that.”

“What?”

“You wanted this nightmare to end and this is the way.”

Miranda shuddered. “I can’t do that again.”

Etcetera grabbed her by the front of her dress and pulled her close. “You will do it again. I don’t care if it drives you mad.”

“You can’t be serious.”

She shook Miranda. “I am deadly serious. And if you don’t get your act together, I’ll have to put you out of your misery like the rest of them.”

Miranda was stunned silent. This was an old routine for Etcetera, forcing people like her to go on these hunts, and then dealing with them when they couldn’t handle staring into horrid gods.

It didn’t matter if she was functionally immortal. Etcetera had already made it clear there were other ways to put her out of commission permanently.

Etcetera let her go and turned to leave. “Do what you need to and get your head right. There are many more palebloods that need to be dealt with.” She sniffed the air. “All over this accursed place.”

———

The encounter had broken something inside Miranda and she rushed back to the cathedral.

She passed out in her bed, but that only tumbled her headfirst into a repeating set of visions of the same set of violations over and over. The same teeth gnashing.

She woke up less rested than before.

This couldn’t continue. She was never strong enough for this hunting business. And that meant she only had one option left.

Soon she was up and out the door, rushing off to see the Vicar.

As if she was expected, doors seemed to open of their own accord, leading Miranda straight back to the Vicar.

The Vicar was lounging on a long couch in a darkened room, rays of moonlight tracing her generous curves.

She did not seem surprised when Miranda stormed in. “You seem distressed, my child. How may I help you?”

“You said you could get me out of this town. Was that true?”

“For you, anything. Come closer.”

As she approached, a now familiar calm settled over Miranda. The terrible fright of the hunt fading away, replaced by the warmth she’d felt the last time she’d met the Vicar. And now a hunger for more of that warmth.

“I need your help.”

“I told you I would provide. All you have to do is promise to do what your mother tells you.” She set her hand on Miranda’s hip. “Well?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Miranda faltered. “Yes, Mother.”

“Good girl. Now let your mother see you. All of you.”

Hypnotized by the Vicar’s charm, she began unfastening her dress, and after a final moment of hesitation, she let it fall, exposing herself.

“Excellent. This is exactly what you deserve, to be seen and appreciated.”

Miranda’s underwear were pulled off and thrown away as the Vicar ran her hands over her body.

“Mommy, I…”

“Hush now.” The Vicar gave Miranda’s nipple a long, hard suck. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“It could feel even better if you could receive pleasure while also giving nourishment.” She gave the other nipple a suck.

Miranda reached down to touch herself and was surprised by how incredibly wet she was. Dripping with desire.

“You were meant to be a caregiver. A deliverer of grace and comfort. That is why you are unfit for the hunter’s life.” The Vicar placed a kiss just below her navel. “It is that same reason you were drawn to prostitution, correct?”

“No, I…”

“Shh. There’s no place for shame here.” She kissed Miranda again below the navel, driving her into a lusty frenzy.

“Oh please. Fuck me, Mommy.”

“Before that, you didn’t finish your meal.” Once again she pulled at the ribbon holding her dress closed. Miranda couldn’t help but lick her lips as the Vicar’s breasts spilled out, one slightly larger than the other. Heaving with milk.

Hunger and fear overruled her caution. Even if that milk changed her, how could it possibly be worse than staring into the eternal horrors of this town.

The Vicar laid her down on the couch and cozied up next to her. This particular piece of furniture was specially designed for these feeding sessions.

“If you wish for escape, then I will provide. You will escape this life into a much more fulfilling one than you ever could have dreamed.” She offered her nipple to Miranda and she did not hesitate to latch onto it.

Her hand trailed down Miranda’s body. Down past her navel to where’s she’d kissed her, then even lower. Teasing her pussy.

“I will make you precious. I will make you into a real woman.” She drove her fingers in deep. Miranda screamed in pleasure, the nipple briefly slipping from her mouth.

Legs spread to accept the Vicar’s fingers while she slurped down milk hungrily. She needed to be filled in every way this woman could provide.

The intense fucking stopped suddenly, just as Miranda was on the verge. She gave out a weak mumbled plea as the milky tit was removed as well.

“Do you want more?”

“Yes, Mommy. I need it. I need you.”

“Would you do anything to get more?”

“Yes, anything. Please.”

“Do you give you body to me? Your soul?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Good girl.” She pressed her tit to Miranda’s lips and resumed the finger fucking with a new vigor.

By the time the feeding was done, Miranda’s belly was full of milk, a tight, hot weight burning inside her. The first steps of her body going into heat.

The Vicar tucked her in with a heavy blanket. “Rest well, darling. I will prepare for your transference. You will be made new very soon.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” Her words slurred, drunk on milk, and she drifted to sleep, unaware that there could be anything bad left to happen to her.

The Vicar watched her sleep. “Good night, my little mommy in training.”

Then, before she left to begin the arrangements for the final ceremony, she looked up at the moon shining through her window. Communicating, imploring, conspiring.

In response, the moon shifted and turned, pleased with her work.

Chapter Text

Miranda climbed up to the highest tower of the cathedral that she could reach for one last look out over the town. A haze was rolling through, punctured by moonlight.

In between the wisps of fog, she could see the village, but also a series of areas she’d never touched. A putrid swamp, a university beyond, a seemingly inhabited portion of town steeped in an unnatural, multicolored neon glow. All of them places she would never see, not that it was much of a loss.

Good riddance.

On a distant roof, the fog cleared to reveal a dark figure watching her. Miranda recognized it as the oily black creature that had previously attacked her. Last time she’d seen it she’d reduced it to a puddle of goo.

Unless this was an identical creature, that means it had come back to life, waiting for her to leave the cathedral grounds so it could have another go at her. Either way, that was one more reason to get out of this place as soon as possible.

Downstairs the dweller Herasine was waiting for her. There was much to do before her scheduled departure. Though all Miranda had to do was sit back and get taken care of.

The dweller led her to a different chamber than she usually bathed in, a much cleaner and fancier set of facilities that belonged to the Vicar herself. Clearly she thought highly of Miranda.

As Miranda languished and bathed in the hot, milky water, the dweller was assembling a new outfit. Heels, stockings, a white dress. If it had been anyone but the Vicar asking for her to be prettied up, Miranda would have resisted. Instead she shaved and rubbed her skin smooth without question. If this was her last night here, it might not be so bad to indulge in a little girly dress-up before she began the long road of recovery.

She still had some doubts nagging at her, but she desperately wanted to believe that this was really the end of this nightmare.

The dweller dressed her carefully in fabric that sat on her skin like a gentle breeze.

Miranda considered herself in the mirror as this other version of her was constructed. Her long hair and larger breasts, a warm glow to her skin she never could remember seeing before. Now that she was looking at it, her lips seemed to be fuller, her hips slightly more prominent.

Beyond the visual changes there was also the matter of how Miranda was now getting a sexual thrill from the act of sliding on stockings.

If she didn’t get out soon, her real self would be reduced to a handful of ash.

For a moment she considered going back and saying goodbye to the maid, maybe releasing the woman she’d enslaved in the basement. But it was too dangerous to go back to the village for even a second. The Matron was no doubt furious by now that she had skipped out on her astronomical debt and was waiting for her to show her face and pay up with her body.

Miranda sat patiently as the dweller painted her face with makeup.

“You are truly blessed to be moving to such an exalted position so quickly.” The dweller stopped and kissed Miranda’s fingers reverently. “It will be sad to see you leave this place, but my heart is full of joy for what you will experience.”

“Are you not coming with?”

“No, I am not fertile enough to visit the holy lands.”

“Fertile?”

A clear chime sounded from outside as a carriage approached.

“She’s here. You must present yourself to the Vicar.”

Miranda had to walk slowly, focusing on each step to maintain her balance. Every pinch and press of the shoes sent a bolt of lust to her brain.

There was a small crowd there to see her off, surrounding a carriage pulled by strange horses.

The Vicar was dressed like an aristocrat, carrying a bulky parasol. “Ah, there’s my precious girl.”

Miranda warmed under her gaze. “Hello, Mommy. I mean, Mother.” Even the sight of her made Miranda weak in the head.

“Don’t you look so delicious? Here. One last ornament for your crossing.” The Vicar presented her with a flower crown and placed it upon Miranda’s head. She felt a change immediately. Whatever these flowers were, and wherever they’d come from, they emanated a strong scent that excited Miranda.

“Oh, thank you…”

“There. Now you’re perfect.” The Vicar pulled Miranda close and pulled her into a deep kiss.

Miranda moaned in surprise. She became pliable in her arms, lips parting easily as the Vicar pressed her tongue inside.

The kiss was so powerful it sent Miranda into ecstatic fits.

After they parted, the dweller stepped forward to fix her makeup, but the Vicar waved her away.

Unbidden, the words fell out of her mouth. “Oh, Mommy. Please fuck me.” Miranda was hit with a sudden wave of humiliation that she would have said such a thing out in the open with strangers watching.

“Not just yet, my dear.” She snapped her fingers and an initiate stepped forward with a wooden bowl filled to the brim with a milky mixture. “We don’t have time for a proper feeding, but I prepared something special for you.”

She only nodded briefly as the Vicar raised the bowl to Miranda’s lips and commanded her to drink.

“Be a good girl and drink every last drop. We need you good and healthy for the ceremony.”

Miranda gulped it down. She recognized the taste of the Vicar’s milk, but there was something else that felt heavy going down her throat.

Whatever it was, it stoked a fire that had already been ignited by the Vicar’s kiss, turning her body into a needy inferno.

When she’d finished drinking, the Vicar led her towards the carriage. “Time is of the essence. You’ll go on ahead.” She pointed out an armed man in hunter garb, guarding the carriage. “This gentleman will guide you to the ceremony grounds. He will make sure you arrive safely.”

The gentleman stepped forward, tipping his hat. “Shall we?”

“Have no fear, child. As soon as I finish my business here, I will be following close behind.”

Miranda nodded, trying to suppress the deep heat taking over her body.

———

Scenery rolled by her window, thankfully in the opposite direction of the village. As her body begged and yearned for satisfaction, she allowed herself to believe that this was really it. The end.

But knowing that, she was tempted to let her willpower slip and have one last bit of indulgence. This entire time she’d been fighting for her life to not give in to her urges, but what if she let herself be a naughty slut just this once?

She watched the gentleman that had been sent to protect her, feeling an uncharacteristic desire.

Even the scent of him was making her ache with need.

Despite being able to indulge her lesbian desires, the alien need for cock was still infecting her.

She slid her foot slowly up his leg.

He sat with a smug smile as she slowly became more daring, until her foot was moving into his lap. She nudged his crotch and found him hard.

“You’re a horny little bitch, aren’t you?”

She nodded and pressed harder on his cock. She wanted to kick out of her shoes, but the high heels looked and felt too good to take off.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get all the cock you can stand soon. Mother will take my head if I try to fuck you before the ceremony.”

“What?”

They kept talking about a ceremony and something about that required a great many questions she hadn’t bothered to ask yet. Why hadn’t the Vicar told her any of the details of how she would leave?

Why hadn’t she been told where they were going?

As she looked out at the scenery, the roads and spires had turned to looming mountain peaks, dark and imposing. They surrounded the carriage, enclosing it in a valley.

This no longer felt like a means of escape.

“What is this ceremony supposed to be?”

He ignored her, wrapping a hand around her ankle and giving it a squeeze. “Tell you what. I’ll let you suck my cock and in exchange you put in a good word with the Vicar. Maybe she’ll let me have first crack at you. You’ll still be getting fucked by every single member of the congregation, but you’ll at least be starting with the best.”

This was all a trick. A obvious trick she’d been too drunk on milk to notice. But even knowing that didn’t break the submissive stupor controlling her.

Miranda got down on her knees, steadying herself against the rattle and bumps of the carriage ride, in a sad daze. Why hadn’t she been able to see the danger? She’d left her weapons behind, escorted out here with an armed guard. Not to protect her but to keep her from escaping.

Drinking every chemical the Vicar had given her without question.

As she rubbed him through his pants, her hands brushed against the leather holster at his side and the heavy pistol it held.

“Go on, give me a suck. We’re almost there.”

She pulled open his pants and wrapped a hand around his cock. “I’m not ever leaving here, am I?”

“Why would you want to leave? You’re better off as our personal baby maker.”

Even the mention of a baby sent her belly into fits of excitement. And all she could do to keep from mounting him was to fill her mouth with his cock.

He groaned happily as she slurped and sucked. “That’s a good girl. Mother found such a good toy for us to play with.”

As she was bobbing her head in his lap, the rage was returning, cutting through the aching need to be bred. She’d always been terrified of pregnancy, and luck had saved her until now, but it was now a certainty. Unless she did something about it.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the settlement that was their final destination, lit up with torches and bonfires. Time was up.

She stopped the blowjob suddenly, coughing into her hand, aghast at what she was doing.

“Why are you stopping? Hurry up, you stupid bitch.” When she resisted being pushed back down he spat in her face. And that warm glob of spit hitting her in the face finally set her off.

She drove her elbow into his throat and reached for his gun, struggling to pull the pistol free of the holster. The strap binding it ripped, but did not give.

“You fucking whore!” He punched and kicked wildly, but she had him at an awkward pose that didn’t afford him the leverage to knock her away.

Miranda angled the pistol, jamming the barrel into his gut and fired. Blood exploded against the far side of the cabin.

His eyes went wide, his grip on her loosening. In his final throes, a dribble of semen shot out against her neck.

Outside the driver was yelling, alarmed. And as she finally wrenched the pistol free from the holster, he sped up, rushing towards the settlement. The pistol was a stubby, double barrel affair. It took some fumbling to figure out the mechanism.

She aimed at the vague shadow of the driver visible through the cabin and fired the second shot.

He screamed and the carriage swung around, hit a ditch, and flung onto its side. Miranda and the gentleman both tossed about the cabin, landing in a battered heap. The knock to her head dazed her, but not enough to stop her.

As she struggled with the door, the gentleman was giving one last dying gurgle as he attempted to hold in his guts. Miranda gave him a final kick in the head as she climbed free of the wreck.

Outside was a sea of black, but in the distance she could see a swarm of torches, marking the approach of the congregation coming to claim her.

Her only choice was to flee from the road and hope the darkness would hide her. It wasn’t until she’d jumped free of the wreck that she realized she should have checked the gentleman for some more ammunition for the pistol. Too late now to go back.

She was too clumsy in the heels and they were far too loud for a stealth attempt. But when she reached down to undo the strap, she couldn’t bear to take them off.

“Come on. Now is not the time.”

She tried to force herself to take them off, but she was overruled by the lust that leaving them on inspired. “Take them off, you stupid slut.” She gave out a weak moan as she petted her ankle.

As she was struggling not to start masturbating, the lights were growing closer.

In the end she was forced to flee into the night, loud heels clopping like an invitation to chase her. An invitation to capture her.

———

As she fled across the flat landscape, the moon grew bright above her. Bright enough that the white dress she was wearing was an even bigger giveaway than the sound of her heels.

Shouts of alarm from behind her as the congregation had already found the wrecked carriage. They’d be upon her soon.

An abandoned shack rose from the dark and she dashed inside for cover. Running was a losing proposition.

Inside was the wreckage of what had once been a greenhouse, long given over to ruin. The glass roof still let in heaps of bright moonlight to reveal her, but there were a number of planters lined up to use as hiding spots. Most of the planters were empty though a few delicate flowers were still growing, the only thing that could thrive in this environment.

She realized that they were the same flowers that had been used to construct her flower crown.

Out of curiosity she took a deep sniff of one of them and it sent her head swooning.

The stomping feet of a crowd approached and she dove to the ground.

“Are you sure?”

“I heard her.”

“I want to be the one to knock up that bitch.”

Discovery would be the end of her. All she had to defend herself was an empty pistol. Without doubt, these strong men were going to rape her if she was found out. And laying in the cold dirt, the knowledge of that made her body react.

As much as she was desperate to remain hidden, her body’s need to be bred was overruling her. Her body wanted to be found.

It was frustrating to be constantly undermined by her own body, but her only resort was to touch herself and hope masturbation kept her from letting them capture her.

She held her free hand tight over her mouth to keep the moans from escaping as she frantically rubbed her clit. All while the small group outside continued to growl and wish curses upon her. Bracing for the moment they discovered her.

Even the danger she was already in wasn’t enough for her scrambled brain.

Her foot crept out from cover, a dead giveaway if they happened to look. Flexing her toes in the moonlight while she jilled herself furiously, imagining the feel of a hand closing around it.

As her body convulsed in pleasure, she bit down hard on her fingers to stifle a scream.

Miraculously, aside from a quick glance, they didn’t check inside the greenhouse and rushed off. They’d missed her, despite her attempts at self sabotage.

She listened for a long time to be sure they were gone, hand still buried in her panties.

When it seemed safe, Miranda pulled the flower crown from her head and threw it away. But even that coated her fingers in the thick pollen.

The air in here was choking her. It wouldn’t work as a hiding place for long.

Once more she attempted to take off her heels, but her body would not cooperate. She suspected that the dress was making this harder for her, but she wasn’t about to strip naked to flee the men threatening to impregnate her.

As she took a step outside, she sensed something in the dark. Something breathing.

She turned and a massive arm reached from the shadows and grabbed her by the throat. Shouldn’t have been possible for someone this large to hide.

Miranda clubbed him with the empty pistol, but that only made him angry. He grabbed her hand and crushed her fingers to force her to drop it.

“Watch yourself, girlie. She didn’t say I had to be nice to you.” He struck her as hard as he could with his huge, meaty fist. The impact knocked her to the ground, stunned.

He pulled a cord from his belt and tied her arms behind her back while she was still recovering.

She struggled to break the rope around her wrists, but it was too strong. And it was so tight her fingers were already going numb.

“Relax. We’re in no rush.” He took a look around to make sure they were still alone. Then he grabbed her by the hair. “You owe me satisfaction, you cunt.” He pressed her face down into the mud and lifted up her dress. “Do you know how long we’ve had to save up for your ceremony? Mother won’t even let any of us fuck her again until we dump our loads in you.”

She tried to squirm away, but he pinned her down with his weight and grabbed her ass.

“Can’t ruin you pussy or she’ll know. So I’m going to have to take your other hole.”

He yanked her underwear down.

Each time she tried to break free, he pressed her face down into the soft mud. Rubbing her in it as punishment.

She felt his bare cock pressing against her asshole, panicking. If she screamed for help, who would hear? More of this congregation of rapists?

“No, please. Not my ass.” Spitting out the wet soil.

He jabbed her again, looking for purchase. “You’ve been keeping it nice and tight for me, huh?”

The head of his cock forced her to yield and slid inside.

Miranda gave out a pained shriek, cut off when he forced her head down into another mouthful of filthy mud.

“Shut up. Don’t get me in trouble because you can’t keep your whore mouth closed.” He grabbed her hips and forced in another inch of meat. “Not that it matters. First one’s going to get you pregnant anyway.”

Miranda kicked her legs weakly, coughing and sputtering as the huge shaft drilled into her.

“Take it all you fucking whore.”

He grabbed her shoulders and slammed his entire body weight down, crushing her and driving his cock as deep into her as possible.

The pain was unbearable and she let out a desperate scream, partially muffled by the mud. In response he got a handful of her hair and forced her in deeper while his fucking reached a fever pitch.

Drowning like this could have saved her, but she wasn’t able to resist taking in sharp breaths of air whenever he allowed her.

As backed up as he was, it didn’t take long to finish. With one last thrust, he slammed in balls deep as her guts were flooded with semen.

She felt every twitch of his member as it filled her ass, knowing that this was only the beginning.

When he’d pulled out, he grabbed her by the neck and pulled her into a sitting position. He slapped the slimy cock against her face. “Clean it up. I don’t want her knowing what I did to you.”

Broken and defeated, she let her tongue slide along the shaft, lapping at it.

While she looked up with teary eyes, he rammed it into her mouth, using her like a sex toy.

Midway through the mouth fuck, the moon grew brighter and the temperature dropped, her attacker suddenly freezing in place. Miranda looked up in time to see a chain of blades wrap around his neck.

Not even time for words as he realized what was happening.

With a snap and a rip, his head was separated from his body, a misty spray of blood raining down on Miranda as a last squirt of cum hit her tongue. Another posthumous load.

His cock was pulled from her mouth as his body collapsed. And a familiar figure stepped into the moonlight.

“There you are, my pet. Look at what a mess you’ve gotten into.” The Vicar set a hand on the still bleeding body of Miranda’s attacker. “I’m afraid my children are too excitable. I really should have been more strict on him growing up.”

Miranda could only look at her with hatred. Her arms were still bound and her legs weren’t working correctly after the violent ass fuck.

“If you had been agreeable, none of this would have happened.” She kicked Miranda down to examine her. “Well, he took your ass. He had at least that much restraint. Otherwise we might have had to wait twice as long for you to have the right child.”

While Miranda fumed, the Vicar bent down to take a closer look.

“Such a waste of powerful seed.”

Miranda moaned in surprise as she felt the Vicar’s tongue swirl against her asshole, sucking and slurping up the mess her son had left behind.

As the mess was cleaned out of her, Miranda remembered the way the dweller had given her a similar treatment. The Vicar must have taught her many things.

The Vicar wiped her mouth. “There, all better.”

“You said I could leave.”

“What you wanted was an escape, and I’m offering you that. An escape from your former life. And the way you do that is by becoming a mother.”

Miranda pulled at the cord binding her wrists. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Don’t be so ungrateful. It’s what you were made for. From the day you were born you were meant to be fucked and filled. And to bear a child that only you can deliver to us.”

The Vicar pulled her into her lap, undoing her dress. “Here, let’s get you fed.”

Miranda resisted, pulling away. But all that did was get her face covered in fresh, hot milk.

“Stop being difficult, you brat.”

The Vicar grabbed Miranda’s face with one hand, forcing her mouth open with surprising strength while she milked her breast with the other hand. A spray of hot milk squirted into her mouth but she coughed it up.

Soon, other members of her congregation arrived, a series of men with similar features. An echo of the Vicar who had birthed them.

The Vicar dropped Miranda in the mud and stood. “Here clean me up.” One of the congregation members stepped forward to suckle her tits while the others picked Miranda up.

“She is trying to be disruptive. Take her to the feeding pen.”

Miranda still fought as they struggled to get her legs safely bound. She continued struggling until the Vicar stepped forward. She pulled Miranda close to look deep in her eye. “You will behave. And you will bear us children.” Then she kissed her again, but this time it had a different effect.

Miranda felt her entire body subsumed in the dark frequency that sent her mind breaking many times before. The signal from outside.

Her last sane thought before she slipped out of consciousness was that the Vicar had been one of the palebloods this entire time.

———

Miranda was half aware of the many hands on her as she was taken into the village, and the filthy wooden shack that would be her temporary home.

They held her down, forcing her limbs into place. They had a large bundle of thick leather straps and used a hammer and nails to secure her to the walls of the shack. By the time they were done, her arms and legs were splayed wide. It was impossible to get any leverage to pull them free.

Once her limbs were secured, they wrapped straps around her neck and waist. She winced at every loud crash of the hammer driving in the nails, robbing her of more movement.

By the end she was completely helpless, forced into a sitting position.

They couldn’t rape her like this, but that was hardly a comforting thought.

No matter how long she pulled, there was no give. The straps were too thick, the nails too deep. Struggling was a waste of valuable energy, made worse by the way the strap around her neck made it difficult to breathe.

Tears of frustration had smeared her makeup. Still covered in mud and blood. A perfect match for the grime in this vile shack.

They left her there to suffer alone long enough to burn her energy, to begin to feel the deep hunger pains.

She woke from a restless sleep to the sound of the shack door being opened, two congregation members entering with a plate of sausages.

Starvation made her body light up at the scent. But even from the smell of it, she could tell there was something wrong with the food.

“This meal has a special ingredient that will get your body ready for the ceremony.” He grabbed the filthy sausage with his bare hands and dangled it in front of her face. “Mother said you might be difficult, but that don’t bother me. It’s going down your throat one way or the other.”

“I’m going to kill you, you fucking-”

He tried to jam it into her open mouth and she recoiled away, holding her lips tight to reject it.

The greasy surface of it slid across her lips, pressing against her gritted teeth.

“Come on. Open up, you cunt.”

This wasn’t much of a revolt, she was still captured and at their will. But denying they make one last change to her body was the only ground left she could stand on.

When she continued resisting, he’d stop to slap her across the face with the sausage, leaving behind a slimy mark, then go back to trying to shove it into her mouth. Past her lips and sliding it against her clenched teeth.

The other congregation member, who had been quiet so far, became enamored by the sight of her suffering, eyes trailing down to her wiggling toes still trapped in high heels.

Her view of him was blocked and she moaned in distress as she felt her shoes being taken off.

Then she felt his mouth close around her toes, sharp teeth and a wet tongue.

The feeling of him sucking and slurping her toes drove her mad with frustration. A shameful tremor of lust.

Because of the doctor’s treatments, her feet were unbearably sensitive.

Her body finding every way possible to betray her. And if he didn’t stop, she felt her body would soon reach a humiliating orgasm.

Finally her will broke and she screamed. “Stop it, you fuck-”

Mid scream she was cut off by the sausage being jammed into her mouth.

“Eat it, you stupid slut.”

The best she could do was try and force it out with her tongue, but there was no hope. All she accomplished was lapping at it and sloshing the thick grease around in her mouth.

Even if she’d agreed and eaten it, her captor was deriding too much pleasure from watching her gag and choke.

An as she was retching around the sausage, the foot torture continued.

No matter how she tried, she couldn’t hold off the orgasm forever.

She broke into fresh sobs, spittle and sick spilling down her chest as she rocked her hips with the tiny range of motion afforded her. Something in her was breaking.

One last hard bite sent her over the edge with a gargling scream.

The one force feeding her lost his composure as he watched her cumming, tears pouring out of her eyes. Even the orders of the Vicar didn’t stop him from unbuckling his pants.

“You want a different meal, eh?”

But just before he could start on her mouth, the door of the shack swung open. The silhouette of the Vicar looming large as both of the congregation members froze.

“Leave us at once.”

The cowered away, heads bowed, leaving her with the sobbing, coughing Miranda.

Once they had retreated, the Vicar closed the door, a softness settling over her.

“Again I must apologize. They are so backed up that even the most level-headed of my children are getting rambunctious.” She knelt and wiped a bit of the slime and spit from Miranda’s face. “You understand. They are about to change from children into fathers. It’s a strange time for them.”

Miranda could see a darkness swirling in the whites of her eyes. Unbelievable that she’d managed to hide it this entire time. But it was her own fault for thinking that anyone here could be trusted.

“Fuck you.” The words came out weak, trailed by a whimper.

The Vicar shook her head sadly. “In time you will learn to forgive me for my tiny deception. Try as I might, I have had many children but none are the children that the Great Ones require.” She pressed her hand to Miranda’s belly. “But you can bear those children, all three of them, and usher in a new age.”

Miranda closed her eyes, trying to will herself away from this place.

“You have to eat up. There’s a very special ingredient that makes your body speak to the moon in a language of harmony.” The Vicar gestured at the plate. “It will make your body ready to accept the gift of pregnancy.”

“Please, no. I don’t want to get pregnant. I can’t.”

“Oh, honey.” The Vicar shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if you want it. You need it. It’s what your body was made for.”

Her hand crept up her thigh, moving into Miranda’s underwear. “You’re so wet. You know why? Because your body aches for it. You’re so close to being the mommy you were meant to be. Breasts growing and full of nourishment, belly throbbing with life.”

The Vicar sucked her fingers clean, then picked up a new sausage, bringing it to her own mouth. Large bites as she chewed it up. When she had a mouthful, she pulled Miranda into a deep kiss.

She formed a seal with their lips and passed along the mashed up mess of meat and spit.

Miranda still tried to resist swallowing, intent on spitting it out, but the Vicar’s soft, strong hands began massaging her throat. Soon she’d been forced to gulp down the entire meal.

The Vicar covered her face in soft kisses. “You must be thirsty.”

In the corner of the shack was a crudely made step stool that allowed her to sit and offer Miranda her breasts for a feeding.

With how dehydrated she had become, it was impossible to stop from sucking the milk down. Even though every swallow sent her body into frenzy.

“I’d have more for you but my babies have been putting me through my paces.” She stuffed her breasts back into her dress. “Are you feeling more behaved now?” She picked up another of the sausages and offered it to her.

Miranda finally accepted, chewing it willingly. What was the point in resisting any longer?

All through the meal she could feel changes occurring in her belly, her system ravaged by fertility drugs.

———

There was still a long period of waiting before the ceremony was ready, and that time was punctuated by fits of sleep. Each time she drifted off she was haunted by feverish hallucinations, the side effect of her body going into heat.

And when she woke up, it was usually to a cock being slapped against her face, or balls being shoved in her mouth by the various members of the congregation amusing themselves as much as the Vicar would allow.

Even though she’d given up, her feeding sessions were still violent. None of them were allowed to fuck her, so they felt the need to torture her for the inconvenience.

Most of the time she spent the feedings with two of the tainted sausages being crammed into her mouth at once, gagging her until they were satisfied that she’s heaved and cried enough.

And in between proper feedings, one of them kept appearing in secret. Sneaking in when the shack was pitch black, but for traces of moonlight peeking through the gaps in the wood. She’d wake up and feel his heaving breath in the dark.

She’d give out a weak protest as he slid his dick into her mouth. And then she’d drink what he provided.

The first sign that the time for the ceremony had arrived was a meal that didn’t consist of disgusting meat.

They held a bowl of mysterious soup to her lips and she guzzled it down without complaint.

Soon after she felt a cold numbness overtake her body.

When she was safely tranquilized they used a clawed prybar to remove the nails and release her. Even as pliable as she’d become, they weren’t taking any chances with her getting away.

Miranda was awake, barely, as they prepared her. Watching her body as if from a distance as they scrubbed, soaked, shaved her. Then they dressed her in a new white dress to replace the one that had been destroyed by mud and spit slop. The underwear were dainty and lacy, and when put on they did not cover her pussy at all. They were there as a framing, an offering to her new daddies.

While she fought to break free from the tranquilizer, they dressed her and turned her back into a pretty doll.

She was forced to watch in dull, silent horror as she was led to the ceremony grounds, arms still tied in rope as a precaution. Every step closer, the moon grew heavier and brighter.

At the center of a ring of torches was a makeshift wooden stand. Covered with bits of cloth and mounted shackles. As she saw it, she gave her last bit of resistance, trying to break away. But they had a tight hold on her and she couldn’t even delay them for a moment.

They set her down on the device as the congregation surrounded her.

A man who could have been a direct copy of the gentleman strapped her in, drawing a knife as he moved her arms into position.

When he finished cutting the rope from her wrists, he stabbed the knife into the stand.

Her body didn’t break from the drugged haze until the shackles were tight and her legs were in the air. But by now it was too late to escape. The ceremony had started.

Above them the moon was taking up all of the sky that she could see, pulsing with gravity that she could feel in her crotch.

Now that her head was finally clearing, she realized that there were at least twenty men surrounding her, all with the same look of hungry anticipation. She lost any final shred of composure and screamed, cried, fought her bindings.

As she fought, the Vicar dipped her fingers into Miranda’s pussy, already wet despite her terror. “I can feel it. She’s ready. She’s fertile.” She looked to the moon for one last confirmation. “It must be now.”

The Vicar walked into the crowd, choosing a member of the congregation. “You. Have you been a good boy for Mommy?”

“Yes, Mother.”

A small ripple of frustration moved through the others, but it was short lived. They knew they were going to get their turn.

As he took his position between her legs, the Vicar knelt beside Miranda, whispering sweetly to her. “You are so beautiful. And you’ll be so much more when you’re heavy with child.” She jammed her tongue deep into Miranda’s ear as the man she’d chosen pressed his cock between her legs.

She gave one last weak sob. “Please, don’t.”

Then he slammed into her.

Every thrust sent her body into hot spasms, finally being filled in the way her body has been begging for.

There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to get pregnant.

As she screamed for him to stop, the Vicar moved behind him, stroking his chest and kissing his neck. Urging him on. “Fill her up. Rape her. Own her. Give her life.”

Miranda’s final plea to not cum inside was an incoherent babbling during his final hard thrusts.

At the final moment as he came, the Vicar kissed him deeply as he moaned and poured thick semen into Miranda.

As he finished, the Vicar guided him in a last few hard thrusts to make sure he drained every drop.

Miranda was reduced to quiet sobs as the Vicar picked out the next one to rape her.

The second one stared her in the eyes as he slammed into her, brutalizing her back wall.

“Don’t be too rough with her. She has a long night ahead.”

He didn’t slow down at all, pounding her even harder as her legs bobbed in the air.

By the time the third one was slamming into her pussy, her body had begun to respond.

Her toes curled, and though she wanted to resist, there was nothing left to stop her from being forced to orgasm. She hit a new depth of despair knowing that no matter how much they hurt her, how much they abused her, her body still wanted this.

One more source of permanent humiliation to break her down.

The constant fucking brutalized her to complete exhaustion, legs quivering, pussy aching.

In the midst of the long train of prospective fathers, the Vicar was busy giving rewards to her children that had already completed the deed. Riding them, fucking them, sucking them.

But even she couldn’t keep up with the demand and one of the men who’d fucked Miranda appeared at her head, grabbing her by the neck. Fucking her mouth with a cock still sopping wet with the mess of her pussy.

Spitroasted while others opened her dress and sucked her tits. Miranda slowly losing her mind as she prayed for an end.

Something else answered those prayers.

In between throat fucks, she got a look at the moon and a strange writhing presence began to reveal itself. Every load of corrupt semen deposited in her, every load splashing down her throat, every time she came while being raped, the entity became clearer.

The sight of it cracked her mind, briefly dulling the atrocities being performed on her body.

The creature extended one long tendril down to her, invisible to the others. Eventually it touched her sweaty skin, moving to her navel and pushing into her. The contact sent an intense bolt of power into her at the exact moment the chosen sperm cell penetrated her egg, a final blessing for their pact.

Even though the gift had been received, there were still many of the Vicar’s children who required satisfaction.

———

When the ceremony had ended, Miranda’s ankles were bound together and attached to a pulley, raising her legs and letting the obscene amount of sperm do their work, as if it needed any help.

She tried to sleep but kept having to perform oral to thank them, or letting them use her shackled hands to jerk off with until she finally blacked out.

When she came to, the moon had returned to a more normal size, still bright, still sinister. The congregation had finally gotten their fill and were nowhere to be seen.

She was alone with the Vicar, who was pressing her ear to Miranda’s belly, massaging her as she listened. “It has happened. You are blessed with motherhood. Now we need only wait to see if our efforts will bear the correct fruit.” She smiled serenely and kissed Miranda’s belly. “Now let’s feed you to keep you strong.” Her bare breasts were heaving with liquid weight as she offered them to Miranda.

As starved as she was, the moment the wet nipple touched her tongue, she began to suck greedily.

“Such a good girl. I bet you can’t wait until you’re the one feeding my children.” She massaged her breast to ease the flow of milk. “And when you give birth to your glorious child, we can do this all over again. You will always be bountiful and pregnant.”

Drinking deep, she felt strength returning to her, matched by a pulsing from her belly.

It was far beyond the point of no return. The best she could hope for was revenge. All she would need was a little freedom.

While the shackles around her wrists had held her securely until now, the wealth of fresh semen drenching her arms allowed her to move more they she ever could while they were dry. After a painful struggle, she managed to pop one hand out.

Still slurping milk, she reached blind for anything, her hand finally closing on the knife planted in the stand. The same one they’d used to cut her ropes when she arrived.

One last gulp and swallow and the Vicar removed her tit. “Hungry girl.”

Her warmth was snuffed out by a flash of metal.

The Vicar stared in shock at the knife plunged into her chest. And in the silence that followed, the Vicar’s features shifted slightly into a more monstrous visage.

Then Miranda pulled and under the hungry moon a spray of blood erupted from the wound.

The Vicar collapsed on top of her and Miranda couldn’t help but suckle her other tit, slurping down the final meal the Vicar would ever provide. By the time she’d sucked her dry, her white dress had gone completely red. And just like every paleblood before her, the blood soaked into Miranda.

For some reason, this time the paleblood reaction didn’t crack her brain in half, and the horrible visions now seemed attractive.

At some point she had crossed a line, and that darkness had taken up residence in her mind. An egg in her skull that was waiting to hatch.

She let the Vicar fall and worked on freeing her legs, no easy feat with the way they had bound her.

No doubt there would be a fight to get out of here, but it was impossible to see past the ring of light cast by the torches. It was unclear if they even knew about the Vicar’s fate yet.

When she cut herself free, she stumbled from the breeding stand, collapsing on numb legs.

After searching for a weapon more effective than the pocket knife, she noticed the Vicar’s parasol.

She pressed the mechanism and the parasol changed its form, turning into a connected series of sharp segments. This was the whip the Vicar had used to decapitate her child by the old greenhouse.

It seemed unwieldy, but it was better than nothing.

She practiced switching the parasol back and forth, waiting for a surprise attack as she beat the feeling back into her legs.

When she had regained the ability to walk, she limped away from the ceremony grounds.

Past the glare of the dying torches she saw a crowd waiting for her, watching her silently.

She expected a battle, but the congregation all stepped aside. Parting and letting her walk out without any resistance.

They knew she was carrying their prize child.

Chapter Text

No one tried to stop her as she walked away from the Vicar’s village. Her children stood and watched her leave, never giving chase.

Miranda stumbled away from the fires, her dainty dress heavy with drying blood and semen.

There was nothing to see but flat, darkened wasteland so all she could do was walk towards what felt like an exit from this horrible valley.

Eventually she passed the site of the crashed carriage, the one that had brought her here.

It couldn’t have been more than a few days since she arrived, maybe a week or two, but the creatures pulling it had turned into withered skeletons. The carriage itself nothing more than rotted wood.

Nothing useful inside. The bodies of the two men she’d killed here had already been removed.

To defend herself she’d have to make do with the gimmick parasol she’d stolen from the Vicar. Hopefully it would be as effective in her hands as its previous owner.

Her only chance now was to get back home and find the doctor. Maybe she could help. But the further she walked, the less sure she was that she’d ever get back. And the hunger pains were already starting.

She made good time initially by riding the adrenaline of the Vicar’s murder, but the ordeal of the ceremony had taken a huge toll on her body. The fatigue finally caught up to her hard and fast, and without warning she collapsed in the dirt, falling asleep immediately.

When she woke up the moon was impossibly close to the earth. Looming, throbbing, putting a heat inside her.

She was overcome with a vicious lust so strong her mind was a hollowed out husk and she masturbated furiously. The entire time she thought about the ceremony and the marathon rape session. It came in a feverish flash of images and sensations.

After she came, moaning and screaming, she was able to regain a shred of control. She caught her breath, then stood on shaky legs and continued on.

She didn’t see the creature until she was almost upon it. Miranda was too busy checking behind her for the congregation. It would have been an easy feat to chase her down and bring her back, but until now they’d not even tried to follow her. It felt too early to think she was safe from them so she was focused on the road behind her.

She froze in place when she heard the hissing.

From the deep shadows surrounding her, she noticed a pair of eyes watching her. Its body was cloaked in shadows bending around it.

She took one cautious step back and the monster shifted, revealing it’s massive size.

Creatures like this might have been the reason the congregation refused to chase her.

There was nowhere to run in this wide open landscape. And now the creature was advancing, intent on making a meal out of her. No choice but to fight.

As she engaged the mechanism, the parasol disassembled into a fearsome multi-pronged blade whip.

She swung and the whip moved far more than she expected, possessed of a strange momentum. It twisted and she felt the painful bite as one of the prongs slashed her leg.

The sudden sight and scent of fresh blood excited the creature, and it began to advance on her.

Before she could react, it threw it’s body weight into her at full force, knocking the wind out of her. The weapon slipped from her hands as the creature secured her with its many slimy limbs. Miranda wasn’t able to put up much of a fight. The toll taken on her body recently reduced her to helpless prey. Soon it had her pinned, face down on the ground.

A long, slimy tongue slipped up her leg, sampling the fresh blood flowing from her wound.

It would have been easy to close its jaws on her neck and end her, but this was a creature born out of cruelty.

A new tendril began against her back, tipped with a pincer that was poking and pricking her as it moved up her body.

When she tried to look at it, the creature grabbed her head tight in one clawed hand, forcing her face down into the dirt.

Her eyes widened at the point of its pincer pricked the base of her skull. Testing and exploring for an entry point.

This was a treatment she’s suffered before, but that had been a mere slug compared to this beast. She let out one frustrated scream as she attempted to break free.

The creature had a unique set of gifts for making prey out of hunters, as they had a tendency to disappear a short time after they were killed. A waste of perfectly good meat for a creature like this.

But this beast alone had a biological solution.

Her screams died in her throat as it gave one hard thrust, piercing her and forcing its poison directly where it needed to go. The pain made her eyes roll back in her head, coughing and sputtering.

The pincer worked its way inside her, agonizingly slow. It was coated in a powerful paralytic, and what started as a horrible pain gradually turned into an exotic pressure. Her limbs quivered as it sunk further into her brain.

The sensations became reconfigured, the horrible pain turning into gratification.

One more exploratory thrust and she stopped fighting, babbling with a new need for more. A mixture of blood and slime trailed from her nose.

She moaned, tongue lolling from her mouth at the drugged joy of being penetrated.

When it flipped her on her back, she was enamored by the sight of it. The injection had forced her into a state of enthralled rapture and reverence. Quivering with need as the creature’s long tongue roamed her body, creeping under her dress to taste her flesh.

One more pump into her skull and she willingly dipped her foot into its huge maw, craving destruction.

As its tongue wrapped around her ankle, she stroked its teeth, enraptured. “Are you going to put all those in me?”

She intentionally forced her foot down on its largest tooth, and the sensation lit up her poison-soaked brain.

“Please destroy me.”

The teeth began to snap and rip as she was overcome by spasms. She was in a permanent orgasmic bliss at the opportunity to be turned into meat.

Before it had finished with her leg, she was already trying to press her other foot into its snapping jaws.

It drew out the process as long as it could before finally snuffing her out.

Miranda snapped awake in a familiar garden of flowers. Her hands roamed her body, hyperventilating as she checked to make sure she was once again in one piece.

Her legs were still an unbroken length of perfect skin, though the stockings were shredded from being chewed through.

She collapsed in relief, resting in the dirt until a new dread rose in her.

She was back home at the villa, which meant she’d been returned to the village. And that meant she was back in the clutches of the Matron.

The maid entered the garden. “Shall I draw you a bath?” She was acting like nothing had changed, as if eons hadn’t passed since the last time Miranda had been here.

She wanted to run screaming to the hills to get out of here, but her limbs were too sore from phantom teeth. She would barely have been able to stand on her own.

Miranda sighed sadly and nodded.

The bath was long and warm, but not as soothing as it should have been as her mind was filled with new horrors and an uncomfortable concern about what had happened to her.

Her fingers trailed over her belly. The impregnation ceremony felt like a bad dream, especially every nightmare she’d seen during the process. Was there any way to know if it had actually taken? She didn’t feel any different.

She couldn’t imagine the pregnancy following her through a monstrous body shredding and the resulting death.

A thought crept up from her mind that she was definitely pregnant and it had to be dealt with immediately. But in the moment she was trying to form the idea, a black pulse ripped through her mind. And on the other side all that was left of the concern was an empty space.

Miranda shook her head and rubbed her eyes. She had to believe it was fine. Certainly nothing to worry about.

The goal now was to escape the village before anyone realized she was here. That was top priority.

Miranda didn’t wait for the maid to come and dry her off and headed to the wardrobe in a towel.

This was her first time back since the body modification scare. And now she realized that the way her breasts had grown made finding a proper bra annoyingly difficult.

Faced with a wealth of options, the girly doll in her brain made itself known.

It was especially bad today, and even touching the masculine clothes made her itch and feel weak.

On top of all the trauma inflicted on her, she didn’t have the remaining capacity to fight her urges. It hurt her pride to relent and wear a dress, but she picked out the most modest one she could manage.

Miranda ate quickly and went for the door, nervous to spend too much time around the maid.

She checked the street for anyone watching. It wasn’t safe outside, but there was only one step forward. Her weapons were now somewhere back at the cathedral, and she’d never make it back there unarmed.

That meant that if she wanted to get reequipped, there was only one despicable option.

Miranda drifted through the streets as quietly as she could, holding her breath any time a howl sounded in the distance or a set of footsteps were heard on an adjoining street. Only continuing on when the stench of the beast or villager passed.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to continue as the weaponsmith’s tower pulled into view.

She was still debating whether to give up and leave when he appeared out one of the upper windows.

“Well well well. Look who’s back.”

“I need weapons.”

He shrugged. “Sure, if you’re paying.”

The weaponsmith invited her up to his workshop, and she sat and watched as he assembled and sharpened a new armament suitable for hunting. Without asking, he’d picked out a nasty looking folding saw for her. Not that she had any preference.

The entire time he was working, Miranda was getting more anxious, knowing what was going to happen when he finished, but unable to do anything about it.

Without prompting he added a brand new pistol, cleaned and maintained better than anything she’d used thus far.

And inevitably, it came time for the transaction.

“So how do you plan to pay?”

She kept quiet as he approached.

“I already took your mouth. How about I give that pussy a go before you start selling it?” He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her towards his bed.

Miranda put up a fight, but she was rendered weak by the feeling of being owned. Her blood was overflowing with corruption, so much that from the second she arrived her body was begging to be raped.

And after being torn apart by a monster, this treatment was downright kind in comparison.

Her body yearned for violation as he threw her down on the bed and forced her legs apart in a hasty rush to undress.

Pulling aside her panties and driving into her with one brutal thrust.

Her pussy became shamefully wet with the desire to be abused. The corruption turned her resistance into a weak front throughout the long pounding.

Her only real concern was the fear of impregnation, even though it was long past worrying about that.

“Don’t come inside me.”

He grunted and rammed into her hard. “Show me your tits.”

She worked open her dress, letting her breasts spill out, bouncing with each thrust. He grabbed them both, squeezing painfully as he sped up.

In the final moments before he came he pulled out and grabbed her by the hair, moving her into position.

Hot semen splashed across her breasts and neck, answering her request in the messiest way possible.

While she struggled to refasten her dress and hide her shame, he loaded the weapons into the basket that dropped them off on the bottom floor. “Go on. I’m done with you for now.”

She ran down the stairs without another word to collect what she’d paid for.

The weight of the weapons felt good in her hands, but the cum soaking her chest was making her skin crawl. Like a slow-heating coal sitting against her bare flesh.

She had hoped to take her armaments and flee town immediately, but she wouldn’t get far when she was suffering like this.

Taking the risk, she rushed back to the villa.

She threw off the dress as soon as she was in the door, the maid coming along to scoop up the soiled clothing.

“Bath. Now. I don’t have much time.”

She scrubbed her skin clean but the real problem was much deeper.

To fight back the corruption and the dollhood taking over her brain, she tried to visualize herself as she used to be, but the image that invaded her mind was a delicate girl in a lacy dress. A girl who was on her knees begging for Daddy’s cock.

She forced her head under the water, willing it away, but the lack of air only made the image brighter.

The only thing that was going to reaffirm who she was would be to make someone else the slut.

She entered the basement, and even though ages had passed, the slave girl was waiting right where she left her. Bound and gagged, fettered to the wall, curled up asleep on the floor like a good pet.

And as if the maid anticipated exactly what she would need when she returned, her strap-on was waiting for her, hung from a hook on the wall.

After putting it on and giving it an experimental stroke, she moved on the sleeping girl.

Miranda kicked her legs open and knelt between the girl’s thighs while she was still waking up, moaning through her gag in sudden distress.

She rammed it in hard and dry, reveling in the way the girl squirmed and screamed and pleaded for mercy. Reversing what had just happened to her with the weaponsmith.

Sick satisfaction from the way the girl was crying. “What’s the matter? Am I being too rough with you?” She gave her an even harder thrust.

Miranda knew it was needlessly spiteful to blame the girl for what kept happening to her every time she stepped foot outside, but she didn’t care.

She grabbed the girl’s tits and bit them hard. Every act needed to be violent. It was the only way to take some small payback on this town.

Miranda readjusted to grab the girl’s thighs and use them to more effectively brutalize her pussy.

She settled into a rhythm, the strap-on rubbing her clit perfectly.

“What would you do if you got out of here? Would you get revenge?” As she talked, Miranda sped up her thrusts until she was slamming into her, starting to sweat from the effort. “What would you do to me? Huh? Would you teach me a lesson? Would you rape me?”

Miranda licked the girl’s ankle and noticed the maid standing in the doorway, watching the scene.

“Come here.” The maid stepped forward obediently and at Miranda’s command, knelt behind her. She grabbed her by the hair and forced her face into her ass. “Eat.”

This was the only moment she wasn’t constantly haunted by her own degrading mind, distracted by the overwhelming pleasure.

Miranda came, drooling and groaning at the sudden intense sensation. A few last hard thrusts as the tremors moved through her.

When she pulled out, the maid crawled over and began sucking the strap-on clean, unprompted.

Miranda was struck by the sight, the red haze telling her to rape the maid next. Destroy her, make her cry.

But she still had a shred of common sense. The longer she played with her toys, the longer the Matron had to close in on her. And there was no doubt that at some point the weaponsmith was going to start blabbing about how she had come back. Bragging to other customers about what he got for free.

Miranda returned to the wardrobe.

Wearing a dick could only do so much to keep her doll tendencies at bay.

Eventually she picked an outfit that would look at home on a Victorian dandy. Pants, frilly shirt, long coat.

But she wasn’t even able to put it on with the way she began trembling as she tried to step into it. And trying to force her way through sent her into the beginnings of a panic attack.

The only workaround to trick her broken brain was to first pick out and dress up in a scandalous set of bra and panties. Lacy black material, mostly see through. The only reason to wear these was to get fucked.

But they were so skimpy and slutty that she was able to throw on her normal clothes over it.

This was the only setup she could manage right now that would actually allow her to breathe and exist without traipsing around in a girly dress. No one had to know she was wearing the sluttiest, naughtiest underwear underneath.

The night felt thick as she stepped outside. Street was still clear for now.

Her intention was to flee now before the cathouse found out she was back in town. But she didn’t have much of a lead. Etcetera was nowhere to be found, so she had no leads on hunting targets. And she wasn’t terribly keen on returning to the cathedral anytime soon. No telling how the residents would treat her now that she’d killed their precious mother.

She had not gone far when a shadow leapt from the roof above her and landed with a crash. It was the same black tar monster she’d killed before, still not giving up the chase.

“Didn’t you have enough last time?”

The beast advanced on her.

This was a good a time as any to test out this new saw. She unfolded it with a snap of sparks and charged.

She expected a repeat of their last encounter, but when she slashed open its chest, it stayed standing and lunged at her.

The Pursuer attempted to grab her throat but she sidestepped and hacked its arm off at the elbow, a spray of black fluid erupting from the stump. It wasn’t bothered by the severed limb and grabbed her with its other arm, hand wrapped tight around her throat. And while she was struggling to get leverage, a mass of tendrils emerged from its stump and reached for her.

They moved to ensnare her, but when one of them touched her lower stomach, the creature paused, sensing something within. That pause was long enough for Miranda to draw and fire.

Her pistol roared and the creature’s body ruptured, a geyser of black sludge covering the street. It stumbled and struggled to retain its human shape.

Miranda fired again and its head turned into a black splatter.

When it’s body fell back, she stomped its body, crunching and squashing every piece of it. Bringing her boot down on every wriggling chunk. “Don’t come back this time, you fuck.”

When she was satisfied that the black puddle of wet chunks was no longer a threat, she sat down in the road. As she caught her breath, she fiddled with the pistol’s mechanism. It had an unusual construction and she couldn’t divine how to remove the old shells from the chamber.

Eventually she gave up, sighing. “I’ll figure it out later.”

In the dripping black pool that had once been the Pursuer, there was one last quivering phallus, struggling to reform.

She knelt next to it to watch the way it flopped like a fish. Something was entrancing about the motions. She wrapped her hands around its bulk, stroking and squeezing it softly.

If she weren’t wearing pants, she might have listened to the sudden compulsion and fed it in between her thighs.

Miranda snapped awake from the corruption stupor, remembering herself. In sudden disgust and hatred, she crushed the tube of flesh and it burst in her hand.

She stayed there for a long time, enraptured by the way it dripped from her fingers, a small trace of iridescent blue liquid mixed within.

Her tongue was inches away from taking a taste when she realized that this was not sane behavior.

She’d completely forgotten to consider the intense amount of corruption she must have absorbed during the ceremony. If even a few handjobs would start to drive her to madness, imagine how bad it was after a couple dozen men ran a train on her and let her marinate in the filth.

How far was she going to get without taking care of this? She already had the desperate urge to go back home and violate the maid. Or be violated.

Going to see the doctor was out of the question, but she’d believed that before and dropped the pretense as soon as she started fucking dogs.

As soon as she had the thought, her mind was flooding with memories of being mounted.

She bit her fingers, still sticky with black slime.

What if next time she fucked something worse than a dog?

As soon as she heard the footsteps approaching, she realized she’d made a grave error. Firing off her gun and then sitting in one spot, ready to be collected. Practically advertising it.

Two figures were rushing her from the shadows. No doubt that they were the Matron’s lackeys, come to claim her.

She reached for her weapon, but her hand was still slick with goo, and she dropped it in her first attempt. And that one error was all they needed to close the distance and tackle her to the ground. They worked in tandem to restrain her.

Her screams were cut off by a ball gag shoved in her mouth and buckled in place before she could shake free.

As they finished binding her arms behind her back she aimed one kick at the man in front of her, but he easily caught her by the ankle, giving it a painful squeeze.

“This happens one of two ways. You walk back to the Matron like a good girl…” He gave her ankle another firm squeeze to prove he could snap it easily. “Or we break both your legs and drag you back.”

Miranda whimpered and stopped struggling.

It was a long, miserable march back to the cathouse.

When they brought her inside, the Matron was reclining in her candle-lit room, dressed in revealing clothing that barely contained her. Miranda only got the briefest look at her before being forced into a kneeling position, head down.

“There she is. My dear, do you have any idea how unwieldy your debt has gotten?” The Matron sighed and stood up. “What am I saying? Of course you do. I knew you were destined to be a brat from the moment I hired you.”

She knelt down next to Miranda, examining her.

“I can’t believe you would be so ungrateful for my kindness, for all the accommodations I’ve granted you. And even after I arranged for you to get these.” She grabbed Miranda’s tit through her shirt and gave it a hard squeeze.

Then she continued squeezing until Miranda began to wriggle with pain.

“Since you have been so disagreeable and refuse to stay in my good graces, we will have to pay off your debt the hard way.” She signaled the guard holding Miranda’s head down. “Take her to the basement. And put out a call for a special event.”

She gave one brief muffled plea before she was pulled from the room and marched to a holding area in the basement, a part of the cathouse she’d been lucky enough to never see until now. When she resisted she was treated to a hard punch in the stomach, doubling her over and knocking the wind out of her.

The first stop was a storage room filled with large luggage cases.

“Where are we sticking her?”

“Here.” He opened the closest piece of luggage to find a sweating woman, bound and gagged.

“That one’s occupied. Get the other one.”

The woman gave a weak cry as they sealed her up again.

She’d seen luggage like this before. Small traces of a memory of bags like this in the corner of the Matron’s personal suite. Had there been unruly employees trapped inside there as well?

“You can keep improving your station by getting in willingly.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a warning squeeze. “Or I could start breaking your fingers. You don’t need them to suck cock.”

From the look on his face he was eager for the chance to make good on his threats.

With a whimper of defeat, Miranda stepped into the luggage, unsure how she was even supposed to fit.

When they got tired of waiting, they shoved her in. Forced into the fetal position and crammed inside and sealed within.

Once again trapped, waiting to be abused. The best she could hope for was that this would be quick.

She spent her time tonguing the ball gag and flexing her thighs, aching for any kind of relief. And the longer she spent in the dark, the more desperately horny she got, sweating and moaning.

This was the exact same treatment she’d received once before at the hands of a kidnapper who’d kept her as a pet. And now her supposed employers were doing the same thing.

Locked up in the dark, suffering a corrupted mind and blood running hot, she found herself dreaming of being back there.

And the longer she spent in the dark confines, the more her body ached to be treated like that again. Tied up. Treated like a doll. Violated.

Miranda was a crazed, sweaty mess when they finally fetched her out of the bag. Muscles burning and aching so badly they had to drag her to her appointment.

Her time packed up in the bag had broken the last thread of self control she’d maintained so far.

The Matron was waiting for her in a private room, smoking a long cigarette while a customer sat in a large, comfortable chair. He watched Miranda with hungry eyes. She had the vaguest recollection of seeing his face before. Someone from the club. One of the ones who had been especially vile to her, but she’d never given in to his offers. And now she was at his mercy.

The Matron grabbed her by the neck and unlatched the ball gag.

Miranda fought through the numbness of her jaw. “Wait, please. I’ll work. I’ll do anything.”

“What do you think you can give me?” The Matron knelt down and blew smoke in Miranda’s face. “You think you’re the only person in the world who can tend bar? Anybody here can do that in between customers. Your worth right now is in your body and that bitchy attitude of yours. It drives up your price when customers want to put you in your place.” She turned to the man in the chair. “Isn’t that right?”

He grunted and pawed himself through his pants. “Strip her. Let me see.”

“Right to it then?” She signaled her guards. “You heard him. Take them off.”

Without removing her binding they began ripping her clothes away. Revealing her flesh as she fought back the urge to cry in front of them.

When they pulled open her shirt, they revealed the lacy bra underneath. Nipples showing clearly through the thin fabric.

“Oh my. Look at this.”

The color drained from her face as Miranda remembered the naughty underwear she’d put on. Another source of shame and humiliation to add to the pile.

The Matron tugged at the edges of the lacy bra. “She must have known this would happen. Or does she always dress like this?”

They left the underwear on, but as skimpy as they were, she might as well have been naked.

The Matron grabbed her by the hair, presenting her face to the customer. “Would you like to do the honors?”

He grunted and slapped Miranda hard across the face. Then again when she was still dazed from the first hit. And right on the heels of second slap, hit hit her in the face with a hot glob of spit.

“Don’t be so shocked, dear. He paid extra to be rough with you.”

They forced her to kneel between his legs, his pants open and his dick already hard and waiting for her.

Her last sliver of resistance was to clamp her mouth closed, suffering the feel of his cock sliding across her face, leaving behind a slathering of his pre. So much pre that it was dripping from her lips.

“Open your mouth, you stuck up bitch.”

The salty, musky taste of him set her mind on fire. What was the point in resisting any more? Why not just give in? Why not just let any man fuck her throat and eat his sperm for a few bucks?

It took a slow crushing of her spirit to finally open her mouth and let him inside.

As soon as she gave in, the hunger took over and she didn’t even need to be forced to slurp his cock, bobbing her head in his lap.

“Look at her go. She must like you.”

“I knew she was a whore.”

He grabbed her with both hands, forcing her to go deeper with each bob, until he was forcing her to deepthroat him. That was fine with her. She was starting to feel like she deserved this.

But when she tried to come up for air, he gripped her tight and refused to stop spearing her throat.

And when she tried harder to pull away, the Matron stepped on the back of her head and forced her all the way down, balls deep.

Gurgling and spasming as her eyes were rolling back in her head. Moments before she asphyxiated, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her off his cock. Miranda gasped and coughed as he sprayed her face with semen.

A stray rope of cum hit her in the back of her throat and she choked on it, her whole body heaving with the strain.

When he had finished, he kicked her away. “Good. That’s what she deserves.”

The Matron gave him a performative round of applause. “Well done, sir.”

Miranda writhed on the floor until they grabbed her and forced her to her feet.

“Let’s go show everyone how pretty you look.”

As soon as they entered the main floor, Miranda broke into sobs. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to take a long look at the former bartender.

“Come on now. Let’s show them those big tits you’ve been keeping to yourself.” She yanked down Miranda’s bra and let them spill out. The Matron hefted them in her hands. “Not bad, but they could be a bit bigger.” She made a show of taking a long suck from each nipple.

All eyes were on her and her bare tits, a level of nudity usually reserved for the stage and private rooms.

She clamped her eyes closed, bearing through the jeers and taunts as best she could as they paraded her around.

Miranda foolishly thought that this was the end of it, that the soul crushing humiliation and a single blowjob were enough to settle her debt.

Too late she realized they were not leading her to a changing room, but down a set of stairs that she had never ventured.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the basement, and the full breadth of the audience became clear.

Instantly she had flashbacks to the ceremony, the smell of the torches and the sweat of the congregation waiting to plant their seeds.

“You see, there’s only so many ways to make a lot of money in a short period of time. Which is why we have this cozy basement. For special events.” She gestured to the assembled crowd and whispered in Miranda’s ear. “Not the prettiest lot, I know. A bit more beastly than the average customer. Can’t let them mingle among the respectable clientele, right?”

Miranda found her last ounce of strength and fought, but all that got her was her fingers crushed as a warning.

The fitted her to the floor with a set of mounted shackles to keep her on her knees, and as soon as she was secured they placed a wide glass bowl between her open thighs.

“Gentlemen, shall we get started?”

They all grunted and growled in agreement.

The first cock that pressed into her mouth had the vile taste of some unknown disease.

He pounded her hard and fast, just as cruel as her special customer.

No facial this time. He fired his load directly into her throat. The rush of semen filled her airways with impossibly thick cum.

When he released her, she doubled over, coughing and hacking the mess directly into the glass bowl, struggling to clear the mess of semen running from her nose.

But she only had a few seconds of rest before another one stepped up to pummel her throat.

The Matron sat back and watched as the men used her like a cheap sex toy.

Every one has some foul stench of beasthood or some other twisted corruption. Some of them handling her so hard she thought her neck might snap from the strain.

And every time they came, the result of their deed landed in the bowl. At least when it didn’t manage to shoot straight down her throat.

During a brief lull, one of the attendees scooted up behind her. He placed her shackled hands around his cock and guided her in a handjob.

“How about you squeeze me tight so I don’t have to pay extra for a butt fuck, eh darling?”

This was outside of the scope of this get-together but the Matron’s attention had drifted and he was taking advantage of the opportunity.

The moment before he came, he pressed forward, the tip of it forced into her asshole.

The Matron finally noticed what he was doing. She slapped him on the ass and shooed him away. “What are you doing? You’re wasting good food.”

The rest of the night was spent being brutalized by dicks. Mostly in the mouth, but plenty of them just wanted to jerk off on her face or tits. One of them grabbed a handful of her hair and used it to jerk off with, jabbing the head of his cock into her ear as he stroked.

By the end she was a sticky mess, exhausted, jaw painfully sore. The only ones still fucking her were the ones so depraved to not be bothered by the disgusting cum dump she’d become, drunk on jizz.

And her prize at the end was the heaping bowl of semen.

The Matron appeared in her view, a hazy figure. “My, look what you’ve got here.” She marveled over the heaping bowl.

All Miranda could utter was a vague mumble with her numb tongue.

“Don’t worry dear. You’re almost done.” The Matron gave it a stir with her finger and then took a taste. Her eyes dilated briefly. “I could gobble this all down but that would be robbing you of your big finale.”

She adjusted the shackles so Miranda drooped over, bent to get a closer look at the foul soup she’d helped extract.

“Go on and take a sip.”

Miranda whimpered and tried to pull from her bindings, but the Matron had lost her patience for her lack of enthusiasm.

She grabbed a tight handful of Miranda’s slimy hair and shoved her face into the thick slop. “Bitches like you need to learn basic professionalism. You are being paid to put on a show and a key part of that show is you drinking down every single drop.”

Miranda screamed, bubbles rising from the soupy mess.

When the Matron pulled her out her face was drenched in slime. “You’re not leaving here until you drink every drop.

It was a long drawn out process to get her to eat.

Each time she took a huge mouthful of the cum, she had to sit there with her cheeks packed full of the vile goop, summoning up the will power to tip her head back and swallow it down.

All this torture for whatever pocket change these monsters had paid.

After countless swallows she stopped, head swimming, fighting back the urge to vomit. Willing herself to continue. There was only a small puddle of it in the bottom of the bowl. The end was in sight.

But as soon as she thought that, two men ran up, stroking their cocks. While Miranda looked on, they left two heaping loads in the bowl, adding to her labor.

After an interminable session of eating from the bowl like a dog, she’d finally slurped up enough of the semen to satisfy the Matron. Then she collapsed.

The Matron made a big show of examining the bowl. “Excellent work. Oh, but you missed a spot.” She slurped up a hanging drop of semen.

While they unshackled her, the Matron held Miranda’s face in her hands, giving her soft kisses, slurping up some of the cum residue. “Such a good job. That should help keep your account in order. In fact, I think your debt is now back to what it was when you left. Isn’t that wonderful?”

With her hands free, Miranda reached up to throttle her, but her strength gave out immediately and she crumpled, hitting the floor with a wet slap.

“Get her out of here. She’s making my basement dirty.”

Miranda was barely aware as she was carried back to the villa, or right in front of where the villa would be, and dropped her body in the street.

She tried to stand, to cover herself, but the pain in her stomach was too great and her brain was too sperm-drowned to form the cohesive signals to get her body moving.

She passed out on the stoop, covered in drying semen. And she remained there until the maid appeared to drag her inside.

Chapter Text

The humiliation of her return to the cathouse had destroyed her.

Long nights lounging around in a deep depression, punctuated by moments of sexual depravity.

Most of the time when the maid went to fetch her for dinner, Miranda would drag her into bed and brutalize her. Fingering her, biting her, choking her. Trying to override her stony exterior and make her cry in pain.

And when she still didn’t break, she’d make the maid fetch her strap-on.

She only ever made visits to the slave girl downstairs when she was feeling extra spiteful. Or when her new body pains made resting impossible.

In recent days she’d begun to be haunted by unexplained dire aches creeping through her muscles, and it only made her mood worse.

On her most recent visit to the basement, she couldn’t even build up the enthusiasm to violate the girl. She sat toying with her, pinching her skin and scratching her, occasionally striking her with a flogger from her chest of toys.

While she was pinching the slave’s nipples, the beast appeared at the basement stairs. Miranda had been trying to get rid of the dog for what felt like ages, but the maid either didn’t understand that she was serious, or was intentionally keeping the dog around against her wishes.

But the sight of him stirred something within her. She looked from the beast to the bound girl, her legs chained apart, wide open for any punishment Miranda wanted. Blindfolded and gagged, unable to see it coming.

There was a sick twist in her belly as she called the dog over. It clambered over eagerly.

“Yeah, you already know what you’re about to get, you nasty little freak.”

The beast did seem aware of the gift it was being given and moved to mount the blindfolded girl without any further invitation.

As it moved closer, the dog seemed even more strange than she remembered. Weird eyes and a too long tongue. Something vaguely uncanny about how he was put together. Miranda couldn’t tell if the beast had changed or she had somehow not noticed until now.

A drop of drool landed on the girl’s belly and she began to struggle.

Miranda grabbed the chain binding her ankle and pulled it tight so she couldn’t prevent the beast from mounting her.

The slave let out a miserable wail when she felt it humping against her, looking for purchase, wet dog breath pouring over her.

When it had trouble getting inside, Miranda reached forward and helped to line up his slimy cock with the slave’s pussy.

Her head was swimming as she sat back to watch, unconsciously sucking on her fingers as she reached down with her other hand to play with herself, entranced by the sickening sight.

While the dog pounded her, the slave screamed and wailed in despair. Pleading through her gag for a mercy she’d yet to receive.

For all the torment she had taken, it was a marvel that she had any resistance left.

Miranda masturbated in a frenzy, repeating a mantra of how disgusting this was, but that only turned her on more, sent her further toward the edge.

She bit the slave’s leg as she broke down into intense orgasmic convulsions.

Afterwards, she sat slumped against the wall for a long time, recovering while the beast finally finished with its conquest. Then leaving the whimpering slave girl to go wander the villa.

On its way out, the beast tried to lick Miranda’s face but she swatted it away, sending it fleeing the basement.

As she stared at the mess the dog had left, the body pain lit her on fire. Doubled over by the scent and a need that shouldn’t exist.

The ache drove her to her knees and before she knew it, she was crawling toward the slave. First dipping her head down to slurp up the drops of cum on the floor, then moving between the slave’s legs.

Her mouth locked on her pussy, still overflowing with dog semen, and began to work it with her tongue. Sucking out the dog’s leavings.

Each slurp and swallow dulled the pain and lit up her mind. Invigorating her while every color in her vision bloomed and brightened.

The hunger was terrifying, but unstoppable.

With a final desperate exertion of her broken will, she pulled away, mouth smeared with fluids. Then she let out a piercing, agonized scream of frustration.

The sound summoned the maid who looked on, unperturbed. “Shall I arrange for a visit to the doctor?”

———

When they entered the clinic, the doctor was hunched over an exam table, elbow deep in the wriggling remains of a slug creature.

“About time you showed up.” She grunted and pulled out a bulbous gland from the creature, examined it in the light, and dropped it into a metal tray. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m not exactly flush with patients. My skills are going to waste.”

As she was talking, the dissected creature twisted, leapt up, and fled, scurrying up the wall toward the nearest open window.

Doctor Isobel grabbed her rifle, which was leaning against the table, and fired. The shot clipped the creature as it fled, leaving behind some of its organs and a splatter of blue blood.

“Uncooperative.” Isobel waved away the gunsmoke and turned to Miranda. “Get in the exam room.”

Even though these visits had been the reason she fled, Miranda resigned herself to whatever the Doctor wanted to do to her. Sitting through the process of injections and extractions.

Clearly her personal willpower was always going to fail.

Doctor Isobel examined the blood tests while the maid prepped the device. “What sort of holiday have you been on? Your blood is absolutely scorched.” She forced Miranda’s mouth open, exploring it with her fingers. “Especially here. This is going to take a specialized procedure.”

Miranda let them shackle her and tie her down to a machine that looked even more frightening than the last time she was here. When the metal clamp was attached to her tongue, she whimpered and bore through the pain.

Consequences be damned. Miranda had to endure and hope that on the other end of this operation, her body was still recognizably hers.

But even as resigned as she was, it didn’t prepare her for the tube shoved down her throat that carried a flood of liquids. It nearly drowned her as the electrical shocks began tearing through her body.

Each time the shocks bolted through her, she spit up a fresh stream of hot saliva. It mixed with the runoff of the fluids pumped into her mouth and spilled down her bare chest.

Doctor Isobel was overcome by a warm joy to see Miranda’s body mangled and reformed.

While Miranda was spewing out muffled, gargling screams, eyes rolling back in her head, she was oblivious to the maid giving the doctor a rundown of her sexual escapades as the doctor looked over a series of fresh blood tests.

“Hmm, pregnant. I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.” She grabbed the maid and pulled her into her lap. “Does she know?”

“She does not appear to.” Annalise took the doctor’s fingers in her mouth and suckled them.

“Fine. Don’t tell her. I’d like to see this play out.”

After the procedure and after Miranda returned to her senses, her mouth was so numb she couldn’t even speak.

Her breasts felt sore, but hadn’t gotten noticeably bigger since last time. That was a small relief, but her body felt strange. Like it was being borrowed from someone else.

A few more mysterious injections and she was free to go.

She dressed quickly and stumbled back to the villa, with strange blood pumping through her system.

Now that she was right of mind, it hurt to realize how much time she’d wasted by being morose and horny.

Escape was still her only option and it had to happen soon.

She hadn’t been to work in at least a week, and for all she knew that week was actually a thousand years and the debt had already ballooned back to the level it was before.

Not that it mattered. Even if she whored herself out every night, the Matron would still find a way to keep her leashed.

That debt was a trap and it always would be until she either escaped for good, or killed the Matron. But her guards were too dangerous to try anything yet.

To help herself think, she busied herself with organizing the closet, trying to sort it into categories based on where they landed on the doll spectrum.

It seemed like this closet was being restocked regularly every time she got another outfit shredded or destroyed. But the replacements were getting sluttier every time. Though her urge to wear them was getting stronger as well.

Even though time was of the essence, the thought of going outside sickened her. And the medical procedure had left her weakened. She needed some kind of break from the lunacy out there. Time to think.

Miranda continued hiding in the villa and gathering her strength. Masturbating a normal, healthy amount. Sometimes while wearing slutty heels.

Though despite resting, the more time that passed, the more she was infected by a rising set of body pains. Aching with a need for something she couldn’t describe.

The numbness leftover from the procedure finally faded, but when it did, something had changed.

The next time she ate a meal, she took one bite and was overcome by a strange shock.

As soon as the gravy-covered meaty morsel touched her tongue, her body lit up with sudden, overwhelming sensation. A new level of sensitivity.

When she swallowed, the act alone sent her into spasms of pleasure.

The next bite did the same thing, toes curling at the hot weight of it moving down her throat.

By the end of the meal she was sweaty, panting, and unbelievably wet.

The only explanation was the doctor and her ‘specialized procedures.’ Some other modification to make her life more difficult.

This new betrayal of her body finally got her moving. It was time to hunt.

She feared her new weapons were already lost after the Matron’s guards took her in, but the next day after coming back, the saw and pistol she’d acquired from the weaponsmith appeared in the villa, presumably returned by the maid. Though when she would have been able to do this was unclear, Miranda wasn’t about to complain.

She was already half dressed by the time she realized she was putting on an outfit she would have classified as doll clothing. After catching sight of herself in the mirror, she swore and let it happen. She was in too much physical pain right now to also fight her mind.

———

In a dark passageway hidden from the glare of the moon, the abominations were stirring.

The long necked creature stopped to chew on its own arm to satisfy its simmering blood hunger, then looked up just in time for Miranda’s saw to rip into its neck and cleave its head off.

A brief delay before the blood gushed and splattered the street.

Within the spilling blood were wriggling creatures, another form of corruption. She stomped the largest blood feeder and turned to leave, ready for the next creature in line.

She only got a few steps before a fierce ache ripped through her chest. She had to punch herself in the thigh to fight back the pain.

Murdering horrid creatures was great for her self confidence, but it wasn’t going to get her closer to escape. Because there were always more.

Even now, she could see beasts watching her from the shadows that she’d never seen walk the streets. All of them hungry, and all of them ready to be replaced by whatever horrid nightmare came next.

At best she was chasing her tail.

Etcetera was still her lifeline, the only one who had offered her a legitimate path to escape, but she had no idea where to start looking for her.

And with these sudden body aches, she wasn’t going to be able to survive out here for long.

If only she could have found a second person that wasn’t actively trying to fuck her to death.

For now, what she needed was intel. And there was only one place she knew of where people congregated.

———

It took a supreme force of will to return to the cathouse when the last time she was here, everyone saw her exposed and covered in semen.

Even standing behind the bar was a gauntlet of humiliation. Somehow the memory of being paraded through the club was worse than what happened in the basement right after.

Each attempt to pry some info from the customers inevitably devolved into a clumsy effort to proposition her. It didn’t help that she was terrible at small talk and her customers were two steps from being the lust-crazed monsters that roamed the streets.

After turning down a litany of offers for discount blowjobs and footjobs, she was about to write this off as a mistake and run home to cry in private when one last slovenly customer sat himself at the bar.

Miranda gave a deep sigh as she slid him a drink. “I don’t suppose you know a lady named Etcetera, do you? Dresses in crow feathers. Spooky.”

“Oh sure.” He took a swig.

“Wait, you do?”

“Yeah, of course. I used to work in her part of town before it got overrun.”

The tiniest glimmer of hope sparked in her. Even a direction to walk would be progress. “Do you know where I can find her?”

He gave her a sly sideways glance as he took a swig. “Sure do. But you seem to be in need so I’d be a fool to part with the information for free.”

“I don’t have any money.” She gestured at her place behind the bar as proof.

“Well…” He leaned over the bar to get a better look at her, and the exposed thighs she was trying to hide. “How about you show me that pussy?”

“How about you go fuck yourself?” She stopped short of thwacking him in the head with a bottle. No telling what punishment that would bring her.

“Come on. It’s a bargain price. You’re not losing anything.”

Must have been the physical pain that kept her from thinking straight and obliterated her pride and self-respect.

“Ugh, fine. Just don’t touch me.”

She pictured twisting his neck and popping his head off his body as she lifted her skirt to show off what was underneath.

“More. Show me.”

She hooked her thumb into her panties and hesitated. “Isn’t this enough?”

“Just a peek. Come on.”

From here she could see the sweaty, writhing naked body of one of her coworkers. There was so much pussy already on display. But he wanted hers because she didn’t want to show it.

Another thread of her self-worth snapped.

“Okay.” As she pulled them down and exposed herself, she imagined her body as a blank void.

Reality was hard to block out with the sound of his heavy breathing. Despite how sad it made her, she forced herself to picture her girlfriend, a million miles away from here. But the image broke apart along with her concentration.

“That’s enough, just tell me.” She struggled to pull her underwear back up and paused as she realized what he was doing.

In her desperate attempt to ignore the world, she’d missed the sound and the smell of him jerking off under the bar.

And as soon as she noticed, he groaned and came.

While she looked on, disgusted, he flicked the last drop of semen at her and it clung to the bridge of her nose. “Thanks for the show, stupid whore.”

Her rage ignited, but there was nothing to be done about a customer under this roof. Everyone in here deserved to be turned into a blood volcano. But that was at most a dream.

Miranda spent a long time rubbing the spot where the cum had hit her with a bar rag, but the traces of it clung to her.

While she was stewing in her rage, the scent of it inspired a sudden chemical high.

For a brief moment, the aches subsided while she compulsively licked her lips, searching for some extra taste. Some particle she’d missed.

Even as she was considering why it had happened, the brief high dulled and the body pain returned stronger than before.

It became too difficult to stand on shaky legs.

She was doubled over by the pain and hiding behind the bar when one of the working girls found her while reaching for a drink.

“You doing okay down there?”

Miranda groaned.

The same smell that had sent her into brief bliss was clinging to this girl as well. She reached out and grabbed her wrist, felt a sticky residue drying there.

There was no question about what she’d been doing. This girl had been working hard, stroking and sucking and earning her pay. Miranda politely averted her eyes from all the sex acts happening around her, but she still knew exactly what has happening.

And the leavings of those acts were what she required.

Miranda swallowed hard. “I need you, just for a bit.”

“Oh?” The girl bit her lip. “If you let me go clean up, I’ll keep you company.”

“No, I need you dirty.”

The girl was quiet for a moment, then nodded and gestured toward the private booths.

They’d barely made it inside when Miranda was driven into a frenzy, kissing the working girl and riding her thigh.

But it was when she sucked her dirty fingers that her body lit up with a visceral joy.

The more of the dried cum she tasted the faster her heart beat. In between kissing her, choosing a new soiled body part to lick clean.

She came in a sudden rush, sucking on the girl’s tongue as she was driven on by the chemical joy in her bloodstream. Nearly falling over as she straddled her thigh.

Miranda licked the girl’s neck one last time before she regained her self-control.

“Was that good?”

Miranda nodded weakly and moaned, still clinging to her.

“Do you want me to eat you out? I won’t charge you twice.”

That statement gave Miranda pause.

Of course she would be charged for this.

It was hard to feel angry as the girl sat her down and parted her thighs.

Better to let her work and try not to think about how this shift would set her back further than when she started.

———

After cumming in the girl’s mouth, she left the cathouse in a hurry, fueled by the taste of secondhand semen.

At home, she was still licking her teeth at the memory of the working girl. Praying for the pain to stay away a little longer, but she could already feel it returning.

The medical procedure was supposed to cure her of the insatiable cum lust. Why hadn’t it worked right this time? Why did she feel worse?

Her only option was to go back to the doctor for advice.

When she arrived, the doctor was busy tinkering with a machine Miranda had become very familiar with, installing attachments of a vaguely phallic nature.

When she saw Miranda she pulled off her gloves and threw them to the floor. “Back already?”

“I need a consultation.”

Isobel seemed unsurprised and unconcerned as Miranda explained her problem.

“I don’t know what happened. Maybe something went wrong during the last procedure?”

Isobel gave Miranda a sour look. “Nothing went wrong. This is not some two bit chop shop.”

“But it didn’t happen until after-”

“That’s when you finally noticed it.” She picked out a vial and uncapped it. “Let me guess. Muscle aches. Nondescript stomach pain. Difficulty breathing. General weakness and malaise.” She extracted the liquid inside with an eyedropper. “Perhaps some urges outside your usual degeneracy.”

“I suppose.”

“Open up.”

“What is it?”

“Medicine. Open.”

Miranda extended her tongue.

It tasted rancid, but seconds after touching her tongue, her body lit up.

Her heart began racing. The light in the room became brighter and more intense. Even the pain dropped away, replaced by a burning vitality.

This was a much stronger reaction than what had happened at the cathouse.

“What was that medicine?”

“Beast semen. What else?”

“What?! Why is it always cum?!”

“Don’t put this on me. This is a problem you created.” She capped the vial and stowed it away. “You absorbed too much too quickly. Now your body has become reliant. The symptoms you’ve been having are chemical withdrawal.”

“But you’re supposed to fix me when I come in here.”

“Blood ministrations are a powerful art, but I can’t flip a switch and turn off your semen addiction.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“The crass answer is to not have gobbled up so much sperm in the first place. But as of now your options are to keep taking doses, or suffer.” Doctor Isobel shrugged.

Miranda stormed back home, intent on forcing herself to bear through the withdrawal.

As expected, the dose of ‘medicine’ could only do so much.

The next time the maid summoned her for dinner, she was already too in pain to get out of bed. All the half-measures were making her worse.

“Your dinner is ready.”

“I can’t eat right now.” She gripped her stomach. “I need… something.”

The maid nodded briefly. “The doctor has informed me of your medical needs. Shall I fetch you relief?”

She knew what that meant.

It made her furious to be reminded that none of her secrets were safe. But ultimately, the doctor did know what would cure her.

Miranda moaned miserably. “Fine. I don’t care. I just want the pain to stop.”

“Very well.”

When the maid returned, she was carrying a chocolate brownie on a small serving plate. And when she offered it to Miranda, she could see that it had been smothered in a nasty drizzle of semen.

The smell of it was stirring up a desperate heat.

With a weary sob, she sat up and took the plate.

She had to build up her nerve before she was able to suppress her pride and pick up a chunk of the slimy, gooey, dripping treat.

The brownie itself was so soft it was hard to separate it from the added slime.

She braced herself and took a huge bite, wincing at the taste. But as soon as it hit her tongue her heart started pounding.

Even as she was gagging, she was shoveling it into her mouth.

When she’d gobbled it down, her fingers were sticky with seed and gooey chocolate, and she began sucking them clean.

“Where did you get this?” She stared at the dripping leftovers on the plate and brought it to her face, licking it up like an animal.

At that moment, the dog appeared in the door and the maid gestured to him. “He is our only source currently.”

Miranda froze for a moment and then screamed in rage. She threw the plate, smashing it against the far wall. The dog fled while the maid moved to gather the scattered shards.

But the rage quickly gave way to chemically induced giddiness. All her attempts to microdose semen had only made her feel worse, but taking a proper hit banished the pain and filled her a burst of energy.

The energy would have been put to good use hunting. But the heady daze made her mind wander. And when she tried to pick out an outfit, she found her eyes drawn to her chest of toys.

Without thinking, she approached and opened it, a delicious anticipation warming her belly.

She trailed her fingers over the toys, licking her lips as she tested the heft of each one.

Under a collection of clamps and restraints, she found a cock with an apparatus to attach it to hard surfaces. She let out a sudden moan as she wrapped her hand around it. The hunt could wait.

Her mind was empty as she mounted it to the floor, then began stripping off her clothes. Watching herself in the full length mirror.

Mind empty as she spit in her hand and stroked the cock.

“Why do I have to be such a slut?” Whispering as she spread her legs and mounted it, lining it up with her pussy.

She let out a long exhale and a moan as she lowered herself onto it, spearing herself slow and deep. Hand pressed to her belly as she savored the feeling of fullness.

As she was riding, she noticed a spot at the corner of her lips, the last trace of her snack. With her pinky she pushed the glob of chocolate and sperm into her mouth, sucking her finger hard.

All of a sudden she wished she had another dildo in reach to suck on. Instead she jammed her fingers down her throat to satisfy her body’s new needs.

For all the fullness of her pussy, there was a different joy brought on by penetrating her throat and making drool spill down her neck.

The slut in the mirror looked like she was in heaven. Outside the moon rotated and she was taken over by an intrusive thought.

“Stupid bitch. Probably love sucking your father’s dick.”

She bounced harder as images of Daddy invaded her mind. It was a frightening shift, but the panic couldn’t stop her from racing to orgasm to the thought of her father.

“Do it, Daddy. Oh fuck.” Moaning and screaming as her orgasm blasted her mind open with white light. Doubled over by the intensity of it.

When the burst of light had passed, the shame replaced it.

After finally catching her breath, she dislodged the cock while avoiding her eyes in the mirror.

Did the corruption do this, or had she always been broken and vile?

There was still no better way to kick mental depravity issues down the road than with murder.

Riding the high of her cum dose, she slaughtered her way through every beast that roamed into her path. Dozens of heads or approximations of heads hitting the ground in her wake. Until it was hard to hold her weapon for all the blood.

In a distant, shadowy part of town, she stumbled across a strange blue iridescent monstrosity, vaguely human shaped.

The blue thing was smashing shelled creatures and drinking the juicy blood that spurted out of them. It dropped it’s meal as soon as it smelled Miranda and scuttled to meet her.

It ignored the frightful image of her covered in beast gore and attempted to communicate with a dull psychic pulse into her brain, but she had no patience for supernatural abominations. Not tonight. She kicked the creature over and stomped it to death.

With her last burst of borrowed strength, she turned it into a bioluminescent splatter on the road.

But this last kill robbed her of her brief high, only now realizing that she’d driven herself to quick exhaustion.

At the end of her rampage she was only left with the river of blood behind her and a new set of cravings.

Though one of those cravings was regular old hunger, as she hadn’t eaten an actual meal.

Back at the villa, the maid had a fresh dinner waiting for her. Miranda refused a bath, so the maid sponged off the bloody muck as she ate.

She paced herself through the meal, taking small bites to keep herself from getting too worked up. Though her hand was already shaking for another dose to start the cycle over again.

“Would you like some more semen to ease your pain?”

Miranda shook her head immediately. “No, I’m fine.” But at the offer, she was dreaming of the disgusting sludge rolling across her tongue.

But the murderous fugue state it had put her in was attractive in its own way. That kind of a boost could help solve a lot of her beast-related problems, but it would require some testing.

As much as it disgusted her, at some point she was going to need a non-dog supply.

The cathouse was dangerous to cut loose in. And aside from that, there was an extremely short list of men she’d be willing to ask for a donation.

Gilbert was long gone after the last beastly encounter, which only left her one avenue.

After searching, she found a resealable cup that must have come from the doctor’s supplies. She stowed it away and set out to fill it.

———

Miranda threw rocks at the weaponsmith’s tower until he appeared at the top balcony.

“What are you doing here?”

“Let me in.”

“Why? What are you showing up here at this hour?”

“This hour?” Miranda gestured at the moon. “It’s always the same hour. Just… let me in. I need something.”

She deposited her weapons at the entrance and climbed up, cursing herself the whole way for doing this.

And when she was in front of him, watching him wipe gun oil from his hands, her resolve failed and they sat in a long, awkward silence.

“Did you need something or-”

“Shut up. I need your sperm.”

He laughed. “If you’re that hard up, all you had to do was ask.”

“Stop talking.” She forced him to take the cup. “Jerk off into this.”

It wasn’t hard to get him to agree, bemused as he was by the request. Assuming as he undid his pants and settled in that this was some sort of foreplay.

Miranda sat across from him, deeply uncomfortable and trying not to watch the act.

“You’re going to keep sitting there with that bitchy look on your face?”

“Just hurry up, so I can leave.”

“This would go a lot quicker with your help.”

She shifted, embarrassed, and then began pawing herself through her clothes. Trying to make this feel less transactional.

“I bet this is all part of the game to you.” He stroked faster. “You’re trying to get me to come over there and take you. Get me frustrated so I rape you.”

She still remembered her last visit here and knew he would do it.

More as a precaution, she crawled over to him. Better to keep him under control. Though if she had any control whatsoever, she wouldn’t be here at all.

It would be so easy to give him a suck, but if she put it in her mouth she wouldn’t be able to stop.

Her face was burning red from the shame as she submitted and wrapped her hand around his cock, taking over for him.

Stroking him fast, then using both hands, desperate and urgent.

“Hurry, please. I need it.”

The way she was actively begging for cum set him off. “Then take it, you fucking whore.”

There was a brief struggle as he tried to force her head down on it. She fought him off and scrambled to get the cup in place as he began spurting out a deluge of semen. Weak with thirst as she milked the last spurt.

There was so much of it but how long would this supply realistically keep the withdrawal at bay?

In a moment of weakness she saw a final fat drop hanging from the end of his cock and couldn’t stop herself from slurping it up, swirling the head with her tongue.

He grunted and shuddered. “You should have sucked it like that from the beginning, you whore.”

A trace of her simmering rage bubbled up from beneath her the cum addicted stupor she’d been in. Miranda released him from her mouth, stood up, and gave him a swift kick in the gut which knocked him to the floor.

His eyes lit up with such a sublime, pure hatred that Miranda was sure this was about to turn into a fight.

But a calm overtook him suspiciously quickly.

“You should really be nicer to me. After all, I know where one of your precious palebloods are.”

“What? Where?”

When he continued the coy act she stomped on his cock. “Talk.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.”

He took her to one of the windows of the tower and pointed out to a collection of buildings covered with a soft blue light under a swarm of dark clouds, lightning crackling inside.

“Under the storm?”

“What storm?”

She looked back and the clouds had vanished, but the blue glow remained.

“What is that place?”

“Somewhere the aristocrats play.” He finally buttoned up his pants, wincing as he readjusted. “There are certain activities carried out there and the paleblood is their centerpiece. That’s who you’re looking for, right?”

“Yeah. I need to kill it.” She recalled the ordeal that the prison had been. “They’re not going to let me walk in there I imagine.”

“It’s a very exclusive club, but I could get you in the door. And all you have to do is pretend to be a participant.”

This felt suspiciously familiar. A different angle but the last time she’d tried to be sneaky all she’d gotten in return was a violent gang rape. And teeth.

“I’ll find my own way in, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, okay. You go ahead and try it. See what happens. And when they blow your head off, you come back to me and we can try a real plan.”

Miranda rolled her eyes and grabbed her coat, stowing away the stolen sperm sample. “Whatever you say. I’m out of here.”

“That’s it, you’re just leaving? No kiss goodbye?” He still appeared to be sitting on some lingering rage, but she let it go.

“I’ll come back if I need another donation.”

———

On the way home she had to suppress the urge to open the jar and guzzle all his cum, swallow it in one gulp. But that would be an unbelievable waste of effort. For now, she needed something to tide her over.

She quickened her pace, lest she get attacked by some creature while still trying to smuggle semen home.

She was trying to figure out where to store it when she saw the inside of her closet. The dildo was still mounted to the floor where she’d left it.

It would be a simple matter to have another go, another dose. Licking her lips as she bargained with herself for one more taste. Not the full thing, just something to keep her going.

If she was going to indulge, half measures wouldn’t do. And the more she indulged now, the longer this high would last. Hopefully.

But that mirror was still there. Rather than cover it up, she’d rather it be a different person looking back at her.

Spurned on by sick need, she made a ceremony of it. Bathing and meticulously putting on makeup, which she was sorely inexperienced at. It took a few tries to get it to look right.

When she was done she blew a kiss at the mirror. “Hello, slut.”

Etcetera had once advised her to indulge, but do it privately so her compulsions didn’t ruin her when it mattered. No idea if this was what she meant, but the rationale was enough to settle her mind.

Flexing her toes as she pulled a pair of stockings up to her thighs. Then slipping into a sheer nightie. Sitting and reveling in the nasty feeling of each new piece of clothing.

Back in the dressing room, she was struck by her reflection and the way the lingerie clung to her body.

The image in the mirror couldn’t be her. That was some whorish fuck doll.

To complete the look, she found a shoe box that she had set aside for being too slutty to ever consider. But now the heels were perfect.

Moaning as she secured them onto her feet. All while reassuring herself that this was good and healthy.

Miranda brought her semen sample to the cock still mounted to the floor.

She stuck her fingers into the jar and gathered up a thick drop, just a sample, and spread it on the head of the dildo. Semen mixing with the dried fluid from her pussy.

She sealed the remains of her supply and admired herself in the mirror as she sucked her fingers clean.

“Fucking whore.”

Then in one motion bent down and began sucking the soiled cock.

Every time the shaft plunged into her mouth, her modified body lit up with joy.

In the middle of her rapturous cocksucking, she saw a stray drop of semen sliding down the side, escaping her. To capture it she deepthroated the cock to slurp it up.

Massaging her breasts and touching herself as she plowed her own throat. It was so much better this time now that she had shifted her desire to this imaginary fuck doll. It even let her indulge her deviant desires.

Obviously it wasn’t her that was having these horrible thoughts of blowing her father, it was this whore in the mirror.

After a long session, the body modifications allowed her to achieve a new sensation, something akin to a throat orgasm. Parts of her body rewired in forbidden ways. Tremors devastated her body.

When she finally released the cock from her throat it was with a screaming moan.

———

When the act was done, she had the same burst of energy from last time and was determined not to waste it. She knew where a paleblood was — if the weaponsmith was right — so she needed to head there immediately while her soul was still burning.

It felt too good not to wear a dress, and although she changed into a different pair of shoes, they were still firmly on the slut side of the spectrum. She didn’t bother inventing a rationale for this, ignoring it instead.

Just before she headed out, she noticed an odd ache in the base of her belly that hadn’t vanished with the rest of her withdrawal symptoms. Maybe it was always there and unrelated and she hadn’t noticed until now.

Was it some of the strange food she’d eaten recently? Her belly also seemed to have a slight weight to it that wasn’t there before.

Before she could think about it more, a strange moonbeam glided over her and the thought evaporated.

Heels clacking, she marched off into the night, ready to storm the building the weaponsmith had pointed out. Finally, some progress.

While her head swam with a pleasant dizzyness, she marched off in what she assumed was the correct direction. Focusing more on keeping upright in her high heels.

Miranda was daydreaming and licking her teeth when a squelching sound disturbed her fantasies.

A wriggling blob appeared in her path and hissed at her. The least threatening of the beasts she’d met recently, but a beast nonetheless.

She reached for her weapon, only to realize that in her bliss she’d left home unarmed.

“Oh fuck.” How had she forgotten such a basic thing?

She kicked it hard, splitting it open and covering her foot in slime. That was fine for this encounter but there were much more sturdy creatures out here.

Now that she’d finally broken out of her bimbo reverie, she was legitimately worried. Not only was she not where she was supposed to be, she was in a completely foreign area with no clear path back.

She wandered to try and find some landmark to lead her home, but the elevation was lower here and there was nowhere to get a good view of her surroundings.

And now that she was paying attention there were quite a lot of beastly howls in the distance. And the click of her heels were a dead giveaway to anything looking for a tussle.

“You lost, little lady?”

Miranda flinched and barely held back a scream as a dark stranger emerged from the shadows. He had a hard handsome edge to him, and he approached her with open hands to prove he wasn’t armed.

“Yeah, I’m a little lost.” She looked for an escape but couldn’t even remember how she’d entered this area. “I was looking for a place with …blue light.”

The stranger squinted at her. “Are you carrying a lantern by chance?”

“What? No?”

“Oh, that’s good. That’s very good.” He looked around to see if they were really alone. “Aren’t you a bit too delicate to be out in this rough neighborhood alone?”

She tried to exhibit an air of confidence. “I’m a hunter actually. I just… forgot my weapons at home.” She blushed and looked at her feet.

He clearly didn’t believe her. “Uh huh. A hunter without weapons? Awfully bad luck.”

“I have been having a difficult day.”

He rubbed his chin with his knuckles. “Well, if a weapon is all you need, that’s easy enough to come by.”

“Is it?” That certainly hadn’t been true so far.

“Oh of course. If you know where to look.” The stranger gestured toward a distant alleyway. “When there were a lot more hunters in these parts they left a few stashes around in case of emergency. Basically no hunters anymore so it’s free pickings if you want it.”

He seemed sincere, but that didn’t mean much. But if she didn’t try and accept his help, she’d still be in the same miserable situation.

“Can you show me this stash?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She was still cautious as she followed him, ready to flee if anything suspicious happened, but he kept a calm, friendly demeanor.

The stranger led her to a sewer grate set in the side of a stone structure, wide enough for a person to comfortably climb through.

He pulled open the grate, squeaking on its hinges. “This is an old stash hunters used to stow backup weapons. Used to be part of an aqueduct or some such, but it hasn’t worked in ages.”

Miranda peered inside. The moonlight was barely touching something inside that could have easily been a handle. “That’s a weapon?”

“Sure is. Go on and grab it.”

The bottom of the tunnel was barely above waist height, high enough that she’d have to climb in to get it.

This was all still very suspicious, but at least if she had a weapon in hand, any weapon at all, she’d have some chance of defending herself. She’d prefer to not need a violent death to get her home.

“This bit’s rather heavy.” He made a show of holding the grate open. “I’ll mind this so you can reach in there. And I’ll keep an eye out to make sure no beasts run up to goose you.”

One last struggle with her legitimate suspicion before Miranda resigned herself to the danger of this land. She pushed up and leaned into the open hole.

She reached for the weapon but it was just out of reach, even as far as she was into this tunnel, bent at the waist with her legs dangling. If she wanted to get it, it was going to require her to crawl fully inside. She was searching for a foothold when the metal grate slammed closed.

She winced at the pain of it. The bottom bar was pressed against her lower back, pinning her in place.

“What the fuck are you doing?” As soon as she yelled, her voice echoed harshly through the narrow tunnel. And at the far end she could hear something scuttling in response to her voice.

She pushed at the grate but it had already been locked into place, and there was nothing on the inside to grab. Pushing was impossible as she couldn’t get any leverage, bent over as she was.

Her feet barely reached the ground, heels slipping in the wet mud.

She pounded on it from the inside, demanding to be let out, but every noise was answered by the thing in the drain moving closer.

When she realized she was drawing it to her, Miranda went quiet, trying to struggle silently.

Then she felt the strangers hands on her legs, pulling up her dress as he molested her.

He lifted her dress, exposing her ass. “You’re dumber than you look to fall for that.” Taking in the sight as he pulled her panties down.

He spanked her hard and she yelped in pain. And that yelp signaled the thing in the sewer, which was now actively moving toward her.

She clamped her hands over her mouth, stifling her moans as he abused her unprotected backside.

“Can’t believe a free meal landed in my lap.”

The best she could do was kick her legs weakly as he fingered her, ate her out, spanked her. Using her like a toy.

The darkness made it worse, not knowing what horrible creature was searching for her.

As he was grinding against her, bare cock out, she tried one last time to bargain with him in whispers.

“Please let me out and I’ll do anything.” She groaned and whined. “Do you want a blowjob? I’ll give you a blowjob, I swear.”

“Why would I want your mouth when your pussy is right here, begging to get fucked?”

As the head of his cock teased her pussy, she reached for the supposed weapon. At this point it might be the only way to fend off the creature moving toward her in the dark.

She could get two fingers around it, but it was so slick with the leftover fluid of the drain that she couldn’t get a solid grip on it.

While she was straining he pressed in hard and fast. The sudden thickness splitting her wide made her moan in surprise, convulsing and accidentally pushing the handle just out of her reach.

She let out a frustrated cry as he raped her, slamming into her.

Miranda only regained control when she realized that she had been found. The creature was now close enough that she could smell the swampy stench of it. And even without being able to see it, she could feel the weight of it, the heat emanating from it.

Soon after, a thin slime poured down the drain, soaking her chest.

Hands searching one last time for any latch or object to fend it off with, praying for some kind of escape.

The constant pummeling of her back wall was too much and her pretend composure broke. It was too late anyway. The creature had found her.

She screamed and struggled as she felt the first tongue-like tendril touch her hand.

The screams emboldened the mass of slimy flesh and it surged forward, quickly cutting off her screams with a thick tendril jammed into her open mouth.

A dozen more reached out to grab her. Binding and pulling her while her captor was drilling her.

Did he know this would happen? Did he want to feed her to the creature while getting a little for himself? Or is he completely unaware of the nightmare living in this drain pipe that is now sharing his capture?

The tongue-like appendages slid across her body, pulling her arms taut, encircling her breasts and milking them, covering her face and jamming into every hole they could find.

Moaning and gurgling as the rape continued from the other side.

Along with the terror was an unwelcome pleasure, her modified body reacting positively. If she weren’t being gagged, she might have begged for more.

At the height of the hard fucking, the creature moved forward and encased her head in its huge mouth. Forming a tight seal and suffocating her in the wet, hot darkness.

She was unbearably turned on by the asphyxiation and the creampie about to be delivered.

But as her body reached the heights of confused ecstasy, the creature revealed its teeth, locking them around her neck.

In the final second, she felt the warm flood of seed filling her.

The bite was sharp and swift, at the exact moment she came.

As for her attacker, he’d barely finished blowing his load inside her when he noticed that her body had stopped fighting. Only now did he realize that something in the sewer had joined in.

———

With a snap of light and sound, Miranda returned to life, still mid orgasm. Shuddering and writhing amid the flower garden, she locked her hands around her neck as she rode it out.

Crossing the boundary of death had done something severe to her body, extending the effect of the climax.

Even after the tremors passed through her body, she kept one hand to her throat, giving it slow squeezes.

She quietly cursed herself for the dull, lustful stupidity that had taken her over. Then those thoughts vanished as her rage returned.

Now was the time for blood.

Chapter Text

Outside the Ruminantia, the attendant looked over a pile of documents, shuffling and organizing them. Despite her assignment to door duty, she was the single cornerstone that kept the facility operating.

Every training assignment and sale of goods passed through her hands at least once before being approved.

She was well aware of how necessary her efforts were, and there were times she’d admit that all her thankless hard work was in service of allowing a bunch of aristocrats to continue to amuse themselves while they staved off beasthood.

Even so, she didn’t mind as it was a much more preferable line of work than most professions available in this town.

And keeping busy kept her own urges in line.

As she double-checked a document detailing the upcoming exhibition, a figure appeared in the distance. She noticed right away as they began charging across the open courtyard, weapons drawn.

The attendant adjusted her spectacles to get a better look. The figure was the perfect image of a hunter, a rare sight of late.

She let the hunter clear most of the distance before she reached for the whistle slung around her neck. As soon as she blew a single note, her enforcer appeared.

The hunter clearly tired themselves out on the charge and the enforcer easily dispatched them with a body tackle and a shot to the head.

Eventually the body vanished, proving it was a real hunter. The attendant spared a thought for capturing the hunter instead of dispatching them, but dismissed it right away. Hunters were too volatile and unpredictable for this business.

Before getting back to her work, the attendant threw her enforcer a treat for a job well done.

———

Miranda awoke after her failed raid on the facility, back in the garden. Looking up the sky while the flowers coiled around her. There was a cold spot in her brain where the bullet had just been.

She would have laid there much longer but the clothes were making her itch and writhe.

She’d ventured out in what could be seen as a disguise, though it was mostly for the sake of being able to pretend she was someone else, unaffected by her various corruptions. But every step she took, her curves were aching to get out, her feet wishing to bend into a pleasant shape. And now that she was back home, she couldn’t stand it anymore and tore out of her clothes.

The bath gave her no relief. She was still on the eternal spiral of withdrawal. And the warm water couldn’t match the brutal heat pulsing inside her.

Her hand crept down to her belly and she felt the extra weight there. Barely a bump, but something had changed.

As she began to consider it, the thought was forcibly sucked out of her head, leaving her with a vague sense of disorientation. Oblivious to the way the shadows in the room had grown darker.

Eventually she let the concern drift away again.

The attack may have gone better if she hadn’t gotten lost several times over on the way there. Even with all her determination, it was hard to maintain it when the she was swallowed by the labyrinth of the streets. It was all the worse for the way her mind frequently drifted and unmoored.

What she needed was focus and the only thing that seemed to give her that focus was indulging the disgusting addiction she’d been saddled with.

Disgusting. Vile. Delicious.

Her hunger got her moving.

She fetched the last of her cum donation she’d taken from the weaponsmith and went to the dining table.

But when the maid arrived she had already lost her stomach for the act.

“Give me something sweet.”

The maid nodded and in no time at all fetched another mysteriously sourced slice of cake.

Miranda poured the last of her supply over the food. There wasn’t enough left to be frugal. But as she did, the smell of it hit her and robbed her resolve.

She shouldn’t have saved it. Then her mind was filled with visions and urges to suck a fresh dose out of the first cock she could find. To break that line of thought she jabbed herself in the thigh with a fork.

When she calmed, she braced herself as she raised the first bite to her lips, repeating to herself that this was medicine, willing herself to forget where this medicine came from.

Before the dripping mess could touch her lips, disgust hit her in a wave and she dropped the fork.

The maid watched her suffer until Miranda seemed to have given up. Then she stepped forward to offer aid.

Miranda watched silently as the maid packed her mouth full of every bite of the filthy cake.

Then she kissed Miranda hard.

Miranda gave a weak struggle as the maid began to baby-bird the medicinal cake into her mouth. But her lips parted to accept it.

By the end, Miranda was moaning and sucking the maid’s tongue.

After the medicine, her blood was pumping. She had the energy to charge over there and make another attempt, but the threat of getting shot in the head gave her pause.

She had to begrudgingly accept that the best course of action was to go back to the weaponsmith and squeeze him for information. Maybe another donation while she was there.

———

From the moment she arrived, he was being difficult.

Probably a lingering resentment for how she’d treated him last time, but she wasn’t about to try and mend fences with someone like him. As if she had forgotten all his abuse. Then again, she was the one who kept coming back for more.

Her inability to ask him outright for help left her sitting in his home while he idly rearranged his workbench. Her burst of energy was withering by the second as she waited for him to stop stalling and do something.

He lifted a jagged piece of metal to examine it in the light, then dropped it into a bin of identical pieces. “Heard somebody attacked a certain facility recently. Heard it didn’t go well. In fact, it sounds like it went exactly like I told you it would.”

“I was having a bad day. I only need to get to get past that guard. I’ll get him next time.”

“And what are you going to do about the six other guards inside.”

Miranda went quiet.

“Instead of being stubborn, why not go with the much easier plan of putting on a nice face and walking in the front door?”

As if it would actually be that easy. “Why are you trying to push this so hard?”

“Because there’s money in it for both of us, if you cooperate.”

That gave her pause. “Money? How much money?”

“Plenty.” He shrugged. “Play your cards right and you could pay off the Matron with cash to spare. They pay their contestants well.”

“Contestants?”

Now that he had hooked her interest, he sprung to life, walking around the room as he explained.

“It’s the most low stakes coliseum you’ll ever see. They gather a bunch of ladies together and have them roll around in the mud and wrestle. They make a big show of it, lots of gambling, throwing all their gold back and forth. And the contestants get a share of it.”

Inside her coat, she was running her finger against the now empty canister, touching the dried residue around the edge.

“Is it really just wrestling?”

“Of course. And it’s not even that serious. No fights to the death here. All you gotta do is put on a show.” He leaned toward her to whisper conspiratorially. “They can’t fight for themselves so they’d rather get a crop of ladies together and have them all tussle each other for their entertainment.”

Miranda’s gears were turning, pushing her closer to the precipice of trusting him. “Is there really money in this?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh of course. Rich fucks don’t have anything better to do than hide from the beasts and throw their cash around until the moon falls. And all you have to do is get sweaty, maybe take a few bruises. Take out your paleblood while you’re there.”

She pressed her thighs together as she fidgeted and looked for any reason not to agree to this. “Why aren’t the other women working for the Matron clamoring to get in there?”

He snorted. “You think the girls at your little whorehouse have the constitution for real physical activity?”

“Hmm.”

“None of them would risk the black eye. But you are made of tougher stuff.”

“I guess.” She braced herself for a catch. “What do you get out of this?”

“A sign on bonus.”

His disarming smile seemed genuine. If he’d claimed he wasn’t getting anything at all, that would have set off alarms.

“The paleblood is one of the contestants?”

“Sure is, and if you play nice, they’ll serve her to you on a platter.”

“But I’m going to kill her.”

“Yeah, and then you grab your prize money and run. No big deal.” He wiped his hands on a rag and threw it back on the bench. “They won’t even be able to stop you. They’re great at keeping people from breaking in. Breaking out is another story entirely. It’ll be a cake walk.”

Miranda compulsively wiped her mouth at the mention of cake.

After another agonizing runaround and she finally gave in. “Fine. I don’t care. What do I have to do?”

“That’s more like it.” He rummaged in a trunk of clothing as he talked. “I’ll take care of all the administrative nonsense. All you have to do is meet their dress code.” He presented her with a black one-piece that may as well have been a swimsuit.

“I can’t wear that.”

“You’re going to pass up the opportunity because you’re shy?” He shook it at her. “Put something on over it. They won’t care.”

She grumbled and grabbed the outfit from him. “Fine. Fuck it. I’ll be back.”

———

She returned to the villa, grumpy about the arrangement. Once more she’d allowed herself to be robbed of random violence in exchange for a plan.

She tried on the one-piece and could barely look at herself in the mirror.

There was no way to wear it that didn’t end up being incredibly scandalous. And it was showing off her body in a way that made her weak.

Adjusting the tight fabric clinging to her crotch turned into rubbing and touching herself. Looking at herself in this mirror always turned her body horror into berserker lust.

In her masturbatory haze, she noticed the way her hair was framing her face. It had gotten even longer when she wasn’t looking.

With her free hand she reached up and gave it a tug. Humping her hand while dreaming of being grabbed by the hair and forced to do depraved acts.

Forced to kneel…

She spasmed into a sudden orgasm that nearly knocked her off her feet.

But as soon as the surprise tremor passed, her sudden lust shifted into anger as she clung desperately to her sense of self.

She grabbed her saw from it’s place by the door. Before she gave it any thought, she gathered up her hair in a ponytail and chopped it all off.

She stepped outside with a large coat slung over her shoulders, holding it closed to hide her chest. Loose-fitting pants hugging her waist.

The weaponsmith was already waiting for her outside to act as escort. He seemed unbothered by her outfit additions or the subtraction of her hair, urging her down the road.

“Don’t look so unfriendly. You want to look like a team player.”

“I’m not a team player. I’m a killer.”

“They don’t have to know that the first time they see your sour face.”

Miranda made a half attempt to force her face into a neutral position, then growled at him.

On the way to the facility, there was only one incident where the weaponsmith had to scare off a creature tailing them, a wolf with two sets of layered jaws. He fired off his elaborate rifle spear to make it flee.

“The beasts are getting more aggressive.” He sighed. “We’ll acclimate, I’m sure.”

The blue glow of the building complex pulled into view.

Miranda felt a nervous rumble in her belly as they neared the front gate. “I should have eaten before I left.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get a meal once you get there.”

“Free meals and prize money? Where is all this money coming from?”

“I told you, rich bastards. They have too much of it.” He gave the attendant a friendly wave to prevent her from summoning guards. “Keep quiet. I’ll do the talking.”

As the weaponsmith approached the attendant, she noticed the set of lanterns by the door giving off the soft, blue light pervading this area. Same as what her now-slave was carrying when they’d met.

That must mean something important, but she couldn’t figure out what. Maybe she’d been part of this organization before Miranda happened across her. If she’d had the forethought, she could have interrogated her slave about this place. But it was too late now.

While the weaponsmith chatted up the attendant, Miranda got an anxious chill. Wondering if she was going to be recognized as the failed attacker from yesterday. But as he laid on his charms, there seemed to be no sign of recognition in her eyes.

The attendant adjusted her glasses. “She seems overdressed.”

“When it’s this chilly out, hardly. Can’t have her getting a cold before her big debut.”

The attendant considered her for one long minute before nodding and reaching under her counter. She pulled out a heavy metal case and flipped it open.

Using a pair of tongs she pulled out a thick collar and handed it over to the weaponsmith who carefully carried it back to Miranda.

“One more thing.” He offered her the bulky collar. “Put this on before you go inside.”

“What?” Miranda slapped his hand away. “I’m not wearing a collar.”

The attendant narrowed her eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem at all.” The weaponsmith put his arm around Miranda’s shoulder to whisper to her. “Come on, one extra accessory for the dress code. Not like this is any weirder than what goes on during your little bartender gig.”

Miranda grumbled, eyes trailing back to the blue lanterns. “I don’t like this.”

“Are you really going to go back home empty handed? I can tell them to shoot you in the head again, save you the walk back.”

“Ugh fine.” She pulled her jacket away so he could slip it on. “Hurry up. But after this you owe me.”

He lined it up with her neck, a chill emanating off of it. “I totally understand. You’ll get everything that’s coming to you.” The collar snapped tight around her neck. “You stupid cunt.”

In the instant after it was secured, the collar changed from cold to unbearably hot.

She reached for the collar’s latch, but her fingers slipped off of it weakly. When she tried to protest, the words were replaced by a sucking void. He simply nodded and smiled.

She fell to her knees as a pulse of submissive compulsion weakened her.

He jammed his fingers in her mouth to test her. “Are we behaved now?”

When she tried to bite, there was no strength to manage more than a nibble.

“I can’t believe that worked. I really can’t.” He grabbed what was left of her hair to steady her, reaching for his belt. Breathing heavier as he opened his pants and stroked himself hard. “Open up.”

The head of his cock pressed against her teeth, jaw pried open with the barest amount of pressure.

She let out a sad wail, muffled by the meat filling her mouth.

The attendant rolled her eyes. “You know, those collars are not a toy for you to play with.

He jammed he cock hard down Miranda’s throat, gagging her. “Sorry, I need to give her something to remember me by.” He buried himself deep, his balls pressed up against her chin. Smiling at the way she was pleading to him with tears in her eyes. “You can take it out of my fee.”

“Speaking of which.” The attendant consulted her paperwork, unconcerned by the throat rape happening in front of her. “The rate we discussed was for a well behaved inductee. If we have to put her through obedience training, it’s going to come out of your payout.”

The weaponsmith gave Miranda a gag-inducing set of hard thrusts. “My dear, it would be my pleasure to take a slight reduction of pay for the honor of submitting this disobedient bitch for reeducation.” As Miranda attempted to pull away, he forced her down harder. “In fact, I think she could use a double dose of your most severe training. It might be exactly what she needs.”

“Right.”

He rocked his hips for a hard set of thrusts as he finished in her throat. Tears pouring from her eyes as the semen choked her. Holding her tight until she was red in the face from strain before he released her.

While she was hacking and coughing, he slapped Miranda on the ass, hard. “Don’t worry. They’ll take good care of you. Break you in and make you a proper lady.”

She managed one strained whisper which burned on the way out before a pair of guards arrived to claim her.

The weaponsmith gave a her a parting wink. “Good doing business with you.”

They stripped her of all but the swimsuit and dragged her inside by the collar, on all fours like a dog.

She struggled against them, but the collar kept her from putting up any genuine resistance.

Even though her efforts were in vain, her attempts to break free irritated her keepers. Soon they were urging on with a crude cattle prod, electric shocks hitting her backside so hard they felt like snake bites.

The shocks sent her into a wild panic as they dragged her down the hall.

“They don’t usually fight like this.”

The attendant arrived behind them. “Is there a problem?”

“This one is being difficult.”

“Already too expensive for the trouble.” She pulled a card from her stack of papers and handed it to them. “Here’s her regimen. Break her in. We’ve got a short time limit.”

Her first stop was a dim room with a metal frame in the center. Covered with shackles and latches to keep an unruly guest still.

They forced her into the device on all fours.

She pulled at her bonds, rattling the chains as she tried to pull her legs closed while her keepers discussed her in low tones.

Finally one of them stood before her with a test. He offered her a glowing green pill in his open palm. “Go on. Eat up.”

The collar pulsed and compelled her, but she managed to clamp her mouth shut and refuse.

He nodded briefly and signaled his partner.

The first strike landed hard at the top of her bare thigh. It was followed by many more in turn.

It only took a few painful strikes to break her resolve. She would have gladly accepted the pill, but she was unable to speak and beg for relief.

When he got tired of spanking her, he gave the cattle prod a turn.

The frustration and the pain drove her to tears, crumbling her resistance.

All her attempts at curses turned to choking moans.

By the end of the spanking she was already much more agreeable. Raising her brutalized ass when instructed. And when she was offered the pill again, she gobbled it down without pause.

———

After the brutal training session, she was momentarily docile as she received a proper physical examination from a thickset woman in a mask and medical gear.

She worked Miranda over with strong hands, checking her muscles, examining her teeth, giving every body part a sturdy squeeze.

“Strong form. You could do well.” She grabbed Miranda’s crotch. “And even if you don’t, you could make good breeding stock.”

When she was finished making notes, she flipped Miranda onto her belly and began securing her to the table. Miranda wasn’t sure why she bothered when she would have done anything asked of her. But this wasn’t obedience training.

The restraints of this table were different than what they’d used before. These ones featured a much more elaborate neck brace to keep her head perfectly still when the straps were tightened.

As she secured her head in place, Miranda noticed the table of strange devices on a table nearby, draped with a thin cloth.

When she was snug, the technician passed a hand over Miranda’s wounded ass. “Shame that you’re such a brat, but breaking you in will build character.” She gave Miranda a soft slap, making her wince and cry out.

“For now, we have to give you your induction ceremony. Isn’t that exciting?” Those strong hands caressed Miranda’s skull, feeling it out. “Now, what sort of animal are you?”

Her body filled her view, body heat rising as she massaged Miranda’s scalp.

“You don’t really have the bearing of a bovine.” She was selecting from items on a tray just out of Miranda’s view.

Then her eyes lit up. She pulled a pair of objects from the tray and held them to Miranda’s head.

“Yes, a doe. You’re definitely an elegant deer.” She showed Miranda a small set of deer antlers. “Not exactly what you would find on a doe, but they suit you perfectly.” She teased the tip with her finger. “Hardly ever give these out because they’re a bit sharper than the rest, but I trust you to not put anyone’s eye out.”

Her bindings were equipped with a set of adjustable clamps that held the horns painfully tight against Miranda’s head.

“Stop fidgeting or they’ll go on crooked.”

The collar compelled her to hold still, whimpering in fear of what was about to happen.

Then an intense heat was applied to her head, rising in intensity until her brains and blood were boiling.

The pain was unbearable, so much that it made the cattle prod seem reasonable. Blinded by the agony while the woman was humming happily as she worked.

The pain hit a breaking point and her vision went white as she passed out, eyes rolling back in her head.

When she regained her senses, she was in a new room the size of a closet, tied up tight. Her face was a mess of tears and snot and drool.

The lingering pain had dulled her senses, but she could still feel the added weight as she moved her head.

It was sickening to realize that she’d offered herself up for this. Traded in the threat of a gunshot wound to the head for a new form of torture.

After all that had happened, she’d found a brand new indignity and gotten turned into cattle.

The pain of the procedure was still a constant pulse as she was led into the feeding room. This was her first chance to see the other contestants, a row of women who all had different styles of horns grafted onto their skulls. All of them on hands and knees, lined up around a large trough. None of them showing any sign of discomfort or panic.

She’d barely been pushed into position when the trough filled with a meaty slop. She recoiled from the stench, but her hunger and the will of the collar overruled her desire to refuse.

Her exhausted mind gave in and she dipped her head into the trough to get a big bite of the mysterious, slimy mush. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks to season the muck as they ate.

Most of the women were ignoring her, some giving her hateful glances in between bites.

She was reminded of the antlers when one nudged the ram’s horn of the woman across from her and she felt a twinge of pain where they had been fused to her skull.

She mewled weakly and kept eating.

When they had been fed and cleaned, Miranda joined the rest of the women in a large holding chamber full of warm, musty air. And a pen to secure each of them in rows.

She put up a flimsy fight but she was subdued by a single slap across the face.

With her limbs bound tight, there was nothing to do but think as she waited for sleep to take her.

Ever since she’d arrived, she could feel the gentle gravity of a paleblood. A heavy presence was in this building, and now that she had time to breathe, she could feel it with certainty. The one she needed to kill was here for sure, but it didn’t seem to be any of these women, despite what the weaponsmith had promised her.

For now there was no course of action but to wait and see if she got her chance or got sold off as livestock.

———

The pain of her antlers had barely stopped when she was let out of her cage for her first match. Although the pain had gone, the procedure had made her so woozy she had trouble keeping on her feet.

No preparation or explanation. They took off her bindings and shoved her into the ring without any preamble, expecting her to already know how this worked.

The arena was flooded with slimy black mud and surrounded by spectator seats like an operating theater. The few observers were hazy silhouettes peering down from above.

After being locked up for so long, her limbs weren’t agreeable. Every slippery step was treacherous, but her opponent had no trouble.

Surefooted, she charged as soon as the bell rang, running into Miranda like the bull whose horns she wore.

Miranda landed with a wet splat, the wind knocked out of her. Barely able to kick back as she mounted her.

She let out a wordless yelp of pain and the bull woman shoved Miranda’s face into the mud.

When she tried to get leverage to fight back, she slipped more, only getting herself dirty.

A rip of fabric and her left breast spilled out for all the spectators to see.

The shame extinguished any hope of fighting back.

In the end her ‘fight’ was a long session of hair pulling and slapping and molestation.

In between matches, all she was given was a replacement outfit and a quick wipe down.

Then she was shoved back into the ring across from an angry looking woman with stubby horns.

Miranda panicked and used her brief moment of freedom to attempt to pry the collar off. Her keepers began yelling at her, but what stopped her was the big meaty slap of her opponent.

The rest of the fight was spent curled in a ball as she tried to prevent her opponent from exposing her to the crowd again.

———

The collar still held fast to her neck, and all she’d earned for her efforts was her next obedience training appointment. Though it was really just a punishment, an excuse for a long session of tenderizing her ass.

After a long beating, her captors ceased without a word and left the room.

She sat wincing at the throbbing pain, waiting for someone to decide what to do with her.

Eventually, a man entered the room and sat in front of her, staring. He had a web of facial scars and a wide frame. An authority in his eyes that made Miranda weak.

He studied her for a long time before finally breaking the silence. “You’ve been disobedient.”

He looked meaningfully at a large shape in the corner, covered in a tarp. “No need for any preamble. Let’s get this business over with.”

He undid her bindings and she collapsed to the floor, cowering from him.

“I could beat you until you obey. That’s be easy enough. Eventually that collar would do its work. But that’s not good enough in my opinion.” He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her close. “We both know you’re a whore. We just have to get you to admit it.”

With a twist and a pulse the collar fell away from her tender neck.

“What are-” Her words were cut off by a rush of fluid in her throat. She coughed through it.

“I don’t need that to control you.” He motioned at her outfit. “Take that off. Show me everything.”

Even without the collar, she’d felt a deep compulsion to do whatever was asked of her. The presence he had woke a shameful desire within her.

“But I…”

“Take. It. Off.”

She quivered and crumbled under his gaze.

“Please…” Then while she lost herself to soft sobbing, she began undressing.

He watched with a stony expression as she stripped and let the cloth fall, attempting to cover herself as she did.

“You’re awfully shy for someone whose body doesn’t belong to her.”

She sniffled and fought back the tears, averting her eyes from his.

“Suck my cock.”

She recoiled from him.

“So stubborn. The other girls would be throat deep on me before I’d even finished the command.” He stood and walked to the shape in the corner and pulled away the tarp concealing it.

Underneath was a crude machine with pumps, a hose, and tubes of liquid. He flipped a series of switches and it rumbled to life.

“Here’s your next lesson.”

She eyed the door but knew that even if she could summon the willpower to get off her knees, she’d never make it far.

“Why are you doing this?”

“To prove how much of whore you are. And to prove you’re better off as property.” He dropped the dirty hose and it slapped the ground in front of her. “Take that and stick it up your ass.”

“What? But-”

“Do it now or I’ll do it for you. And I won’t be gentle.”

When she hesitated, he kicked the hose closer. “Now. Or you know what will happen.”

But she didn’t know. And that was terrifying.

She picked it up. “Fine. I’ll be good. Okay?”

She reached behind her and slipped the end of the hose between her ass cheeks, prodding at her hole as her face lit up red with shame. “It’s not…” She grunted and twisted it, face screwed up in pain. “It’s not going in.”

“Then lube it up, stupid. You’ve got a tongue.”

She only sobbed once as she brought it to her mouth and stuck her dripping tongue to it, wincing at the taste.

He smirked and rubbed his crotch as he watched her work the tube with her mouth.

She gagged and moved the slippery tube back to her ass.

It still wasn’t easy, but she spread her legs, bent over, and began bouncing to try and coax it in. Moaning with each tiny bit of progress.

“Are you going to cum, just from ass stuff?”

“I’m not cumming. It hurts.”

She finally gave up trying to cover her chest and grabbed the hose with both hands. Gritting her teeth, she managed to force the first inch inside.

“This is taking too long.” He forced her face into the floor and reached back to grab the tube.

“No, wait. I can do it, I-”

She shrieked as forced it hard and what felt like two feet of tube plunged into her guts.

Sucking in shallow breaths as she tried to remain still to not disturb it.

Posed like a submissive dog, she watched as he flipped the lever that sent a stream of fluid down the tube, into her. As soon as it hit, she felt the most intense pressure from within. “Oh my god.”

She was on all fours, panting and groaning as she was filled up, stomach bulging. “Please. Please turn it off.” The pain was unbearable, and it had only begun.

“Here.” He sat down in front of her and undid his pants. “Once you swallow my cum, I’ll consider shutting it off.”

She only hesitated for a moment before another pulse of painful expansion ripped through her, and she began crawling to him.

Panic spurned her on to slurp down his massive, stinking dick. Pleading with her eyes for mercy as her cheeks bulged.

“See? A little encouragement is all you need to become the cocksucker you were born to be.”

She clutched her bulging belly as she gorged herself on his cock, desperate for relief. Desperate to provide the pleasure he required.

When he was getting close, he pushed her off.

She was sobbing from the pain, tongue out while tears rolled down her cheeks. Her stomach gurgled and roiled.

“You want this cum?”

“Yes, please. I need it. Let me swallow it.”

“Because you’re a cocksucking whore?”

“Yes, fine. I’m a whore. I’m such a whore. Please, anything.”

Satisfied, he grabbed her by the horns and pulled her in, forcing her to deepthroat him. The pain in her skull was competing with every other part of her body.

She was vocalizing a scream of pain when he shot his thick wad down her throat. He kept holding her down long after he’d given her the final spurt of semen, watching her suffer.

This time she swallowed, if only because she believed it was what he wanted.

When he finally had his fill, he pushed her over and she collapsed on the floor. Then he took his time strolling to the machine and turning off the pump. She was still packed full of the liquid, moaning and crying. Humiliated.

“Now, one last formality.” While she writhed in agony, he handed the collar back to her. “Put it back on.”

The tears came quick, but they didn’t stop her from taking it from him.

Her last chance for words were drowned out by a miserable sob as she brought the collar to her neck and secured it. The strange chill returned.

“Good girl. Now lay there and think about what you’ve done. Someone will be along to collect you later.”

———

She passed the days in a miserable stupor, suffering without complaint the cleanings and tests and feedings. All while the collar infected her, unimpeded.

She didn’t wake up from her haze until she was next pushed into the muddy ring. The promise of violence got her blood pumping again.

She still had not gotten used to grappling. All her experience so far was in tearing the heads off of beasts with a weapon. Wrestling was a different set of skills entirely. That and the pressure of the constant humiliation of rolling around in slop while barely dressed made it even more difficult than it otherwise would have been.

But she was starting to grow accustomed, though she was a long way from being victorious. Her opponents were more surefooted in the muck, and knew all the ways to send her falling face-first into it.

During the match against a girl with short, curly horns, she felt a deep sense of unease, like something dangerous was watching her. Waves of scorn beating down on her so hard she could feel the weight of it on the back of her eyes. When she tried to find the source, her opponent kicked her feet from under her and slammed on top of her with her full weight.

In the end she lost every single match, placing her at the bottom of the rankings. Bruised and filthy for her efforts. Hosed off and put back in her pen by handlers who were looking at her like meat going bad.

“Going to have to put this one in the bargain bin.”

———

Late into the night, after she’d been bound in her stable with the other girls, Miranda got a visit.

She was half asleep when she heard footsteps approaching.

Despite being dressed like the other contestants, she had an air of ownership. And as she drew closer, Miranda saw that she wasn’t wearing a collar.

The woman browsed through the cattle, stopping to molest and pinch them in turn. The cow woman that Miranda had fought earlier got special attention. The woman knelt to give her a deep kiss, with a quick bite of her lips as they parted.

Then she saw Miranda and her face darkened.

“Well well well. Look who we have here.”

She gave the cow girl one last lick, and then approached Miranda.

Now that she was close, she could see that her horns weren’t horns at all. They looked more like bunny ears.

“You’re the new meat.”

As she touched Miranda’s shoulder, she felt a throbbing jolt move through her. A very familiar feeling. No doubt about it. This was the paleblood, the one she was here to kill. But she was bound, unable to do anything but glare back at her and clench her fists.

The champion’s hands drifted across Miranda’s skin. “I’ve been watching you. New women come in all the time. Get a bit dirty. Get sold off. But there’s something different about you.” She moved closer, working her hand into the top of Miranda’s outfit, cupping her breast. Working it roughly. “As soon as I first saw you I hated you with such a passion. Why is that?”

Her fingers closed on Miranda’s nipple and gave it a brutal pinch, Miranda moaning through her gag.

“Why have I been dreaming about hurting you?” She flicked Miranda’s horn and sent a stinging pain through her skull. “I can’t figure out what quality you have that makes me so fucking angry.”

In a rush of rage she grabbed both of Miranda’s breasts and twisted them hard, making her writhe.

“This is the best part of this arrangement, where I get to do whatever I want to the livestock.” She gave another hard twist. “I don’t like that look in your eyes. Don’t think for a second that I’m not the one in charge here, just because we’re dressed the same.”

She released her and let her hand drift toward Miranda’s backside.

“It’s nice actually, this arrangement. I’ve never been so cared for, protected. Never so ready to have all my needs catered to.” She yanked away the fabric covering Miranda’s crotch, eliciting a noise of distress. Hand sliding between her legs. Fingers parting her lips.

“Used to be that when I saw someone I despised, I had to bite my tongue and bear it. But now I can be as beastly as I want.” She teased a finger inside while Miranda struggled. “I used to be a cleric, actually. Isn’t that a fun bit of trivia?”

When Miranda tried to pull away, she added two more fingers. “Does that feel good? I bet it’ll feel even better when I beat you and do this again in front of everyone.”

She jammed her tongue into Miranda’s ear and gave her a nibble. “I’m going to make them all watch you cum.”

She began pounding her fingers into Miranda while she bit and chewed her neck. Miranda was gnashing at her bit, averting her eyes in shame from the the other cattle staring at her.

She let Miranda get to the edge of a forced orgasm before she pulled out and slapped Miranda across her tender ass. “We’ll finish this later where everyone can see.”

As a parting shot, she spit in Miranda’s face, splattering across her cheek. Then she hit her with another volley of saliva until she was suitably covered.

“See you tomorrow, bitch.”

———

Miranda spent the rest of the night exposed. Her keepers replaced her clothing without comment and began the final preparations. While the final tests were being run, an attendant knelt in front of her, applying makeup to pretty her up for her big show. Throughout, Miranda held still obediently, as the collar demanded.

“Huh, I wouldn’t even bother. She’s going up against the champion in the first match. Not much hope. Might as well prep her for breeding now.”

“Quiet, I’m working.” The attendant traced the outline of her eye carefully. “It’s a real shame though. Hoping she’d stick around longer. This one makes the most wonderful sounds when she’s getting spanked.”

After the makeup, Miranda was subjected to a series of needle jabs, only able to close her eyes and pray for it to end. Willing the time to pass.

But when the tests were finished, her keepers were surprised by the results.

“Oh, that’s strange. This one is already pregnant.”

“She is?”

A jolt of terror ran through Miranda’s body, and in response a rumble from her belly.

The one who had done her makeup reached under Miranda to feel her belly. “Damn, I think you’re right. How did that happen?”

The ceremony sprung to her mind in stark detail. For some reason the memory of what happened that night had been blocked by a thick curtain, but it was coming back strong now. The smell of the torches. The tight pull of the ropes. The way every member of that congregation had climbed between her legs. The endless violation.

Of course she was pregnant after all of that. How had she let that slip her mind?

Even as she was wondering it, she felt a cold moonbeam attempt to pry itself into her brain and she shook it off. Something outside herself had tampered with her mind.

Dying was supposed to ‘cure’ her of that concern and as soon as she’d thought of it, she’d quickly accepted it as fact. Hadn’t even bothered to question it further.

She couldn’t look down at herself, so all she could do was try and move her belly to try and divine how far along she was, how close to disaster she was.

Her captors puzzled over how to report this, or whether to lie to the prospective buyers while Miranda was suffering a monumental panic, ignored.

But what could she actually do about it? The fact that she was captured and locked away from any help was intensely frustrating. Doubly so that she was unable to speak.

Eventually, what took over was burning anger. Anger at the weaponsmith for putting her here, but mostly anger at herself for wasting so much time when something needed to be done immediately.

She drove herself to a migraine trying to break free, her limbs from the stationary restraints and her mind from the collar’s influence. But after a powerful struggle, she was still bound in every way that mattered. The only thing she had to show for it was a red face and a sudden nose bleed.

The attendants looked on at the way she was vibrating in place, blood spilling down her chin. “What’s with her?”

“Hey, I’m not redoing your makeup.”

Miranda’s eyes lit up like a rage furnace. Another hot drip of blood fell from her nose.

They shrugged and went back to their business.

The rage percolated all night as she was locked in her pen with the rest of the cattle. She never stopped chewing at her bit, keeping herself alert with thoughts of destruction.

By the time they fetched her for the tournament, the rage had turned into a dense hot coal in her chest. Waiting for the right moment to explode.

She watched the first few matches, but her eyes were on the crowd. The way they were exchanging whispers about which one to take home or turn into furniture. Bargaining over the women they had turned into literal animals.

Hard to believe she’d found a place that was morally a step below the cathouse.

Her keeper snapped his fingers to get her attention. “You’re up.” He unlocked her bindings. “They’re probably going to ship you off to some breeding pen so enjoy being able to move around while you can.”

Miranda was visibly a still pond, even when he felt up her ass and shoved her into the arena.

Above her, the crowd began analyzing her, doing the mental math on how much they’d pay to make her into a fuck doll.

The champion, the former cleric, walked into the ring and all eyes turned to her. She languished in the attention and cheers heaped upon her. But beneath it she still emanated the casual menace from her night visit.

The coal in Miranda’s chest caught fire. Her anger had to go somewhere, so why not direct it at the one who had promised to humiliate her?

As the match started, Miranda let out roar that should have been impossible with the collar. It caused her incredible pain, but she pushed through it and charged.

The rage caught her opponent off guard, long enough to tackle her into the mud and get her hands around her neck. The throbbing blood in her head drowned out the sounds of shock from the crowd.

Even with her element of surprise and the rage fueling her, Miranda’s upper hand was short-lived. It couldn’t overcome the might and skill of the cleric. She lived here. This was her entire life.

No amount of adrenaline would allow her to keep her advantage.

One last slip and Miranda was on her back, the cleric pinning her down.

“You fucking bitch.” Punching and beating her until she sat hard on Miranda’s chest, using her knees to pin down her arms. “I’m going to destroy you.”

The cleric gripped one of Miranda’s horns, gleefully lusting for the anguish she was about to cause.

“I was going to have a little fun with you and then let you get sold off for meat, but you deserve so much more.” She ripped away Miranda’s outfit, her breasts spilling out. “I’m going to make you eat me out for hours, days at a time. And every time I cum, I’m going to break another bone in your body. And when you’re a useless blood sack I’ll hand you over to be used as a party favor. Do you like that idea, you bratty little cunt?”

Miranda responded with another impossible scream, weaker than the last. Her struggles became more desperate.

“But first, we start with this.” The cleric braced herself and snapped the horn off at the base. It send a tidal wave of pain through Miranda’s body so powerful that her struggle stopped instantly and her body seized up.

Aftershocks ripped through her as her body was wracked by convulsions, flopping around in the filthy mud, breasts bouncing on display as her eyes rolled back in her head.

The bloody glee in the cleric’s eyes revealed her as a creature more horrendous than the dainty bunny girl she pretended to be.

While Miranda was still senseless, the cleric began the real show. The last scraps of Miranda’s clothing were ripped away easily, leaving her exposed.

“Let’s show off that pussy of yours. Let everyone see the merchandise.”

The staff knew better than to stop the match before the champion had gotten her fill, so they enjoyed the show while the cleric brutalized Miranda like a cheap doll. Rapt with the rest of the crowd as the cleric licked and bit her way along Miranda’s leg.

It took a particularly brutal bite on her inner thigh to cut through the coma her broken horn had caused.

The strength had drained from her, unable to resist the cleric’s abuse even though her arms were now free.

The cleric appealed to the crowd. “How many fingers should I shove in there? All of them? Should I rip this fucking bitch in half?”

If Miranda didn’t do something now, she was going to miss her one chance.

She reached out weakly, hand swimming through mud. Until her hand closed on an object that had very recently been fused to her skull.

Her broken horn, sharp and strong.

When she noticed Miranda was moving, the cleric jammed her muddy fingers down her throat. “How about it, slut? Want me to break off the other one?”

In between deep gags, Miranda summoned her strength and plunged the horn into the cleric’s chest with a hard thud.

The noise of the crowd died out immediately, leaving them all in a stunned silence.

The cleric’s face had gone still, the sneering cruelty knocked away. Her dirty fingers slipped from Miranda’s mouth and pussy.

She took in a single sharp breath as she looked down at the horn now planted in her chest.

There was a shift under the surface that Miranda could feel through the antler. There was a beast coiled up underneath her skin, now slowly drowning in its own blood. She twisted and the creature rearranged, bulging at odd angles.

She tried to pull the antler from Miranda’s grip but her fingers weren’t operating correctly.

For a moment, Miranda flashed back to the night of the ceremony, filled with vile semen, where she killed the Vicar in nearly the same way. As if this were fated.

Before she or the crowd could recover from the shock, Miranda lunged forward and locked her teeth onto her throat.

The cleric let out an animal shriek as her neck exploded. The crowd erupted into gasps and yells as their favorite pet was mutilated.

She fell back into the mud and Miranda followed her down to finish her off.

One last brutal crunch and the job was done.

Face smeared in red, Miranda let out a victory scream which died halfway, strangled by the collar as she was doused by a geyser of blood.

Much like the other times that she interacted with this specific type of blood, her mind was blasted full of a feverish vision.

This time she was treated to a swirling storm of meat that grew inside her head. Expanding until she thought her skull might burst from inside.

She lost consciousness and collapsed in the mud while the attendants were on their way to restrain her.

———

After dreaming of tainted blood, Miranda woke up bound and gagged. Muzzled. Secured in a dog cage. Her head was still throbbing where the horn had been.

The most she could do was flex her muscles in her bonds while her keepers debated what to do with her.

The woman from the gate tapped on Miranda’s cage, making certain it was still secure. “Should have known this one was bad merchandise.”

Her associate was shaking his head. “If anything, we should get the Nursery to take her.”

“No, that lady is too picky about the stock we’ve been sending for her ‘project.’ She’ll realize we’re trying to dump her and I’ll never hear the end of it. Besides, she refuses to take them pre-impregnated.”

“What about… you know.” He made a gesture Miranda couldn’t see.

“He’s not going to want her. She’s too violent to be one of his dolls.” She gave Miranda’s cage a kick. “Even with training, the collar didn’t stop her.”

Her associate took a seat and sighed. “She was supposed to be broken in.”

“Ugh. Too many people saw it. She’s damaged goods.” The attendant rubbed her temples. “How about this? We put her on sale as-is and see if some adventurous type wants to have a go. Recoup some of our costs. If not, we’ll put her down and write it off as a loss.”

Her associate shrugged. “Good a plan as any.”

They weren’t taking any chances with her, and when they needed to move her or clean her up for sale, they made sure she was always secured and drugged. Not that it would have mattered much. After her rage episode, the collar had gotten a tighter hold on her. So tight that she would have gladly bent over and spread her legs for anyone who demanded it.

She spent so long in the pen that her cum withdrawal began to act up, making the tortuous confinement even worse.

When the last of the drugs wore off, her hands were chained above her head. Blindfolded and muzzled, completely naked otherwise.

Miranda was on display where unseen hands could molest her and examine her like a defective product. Fingers prodding and pinching her most delicate areas.

Many of them were clearly not interested in buying her. They merely wanted a chance to finger-fuck the murderer. What struggles she could muster were indistinguishable from enthusiasm.

By the end she was wishing for someone to buy and fuck her so she wouldn’t feel so bad.

Her last prospective buyer was someone with soft, strong hands. Examining her body with a confident grace. Then the press of lips to her skin.

She felt a final, firm bite as the buyer sank her teeth into Miranda’s thigh, matching the one the cleric had given her.

After this the sale was decided, and the attendants seemed surprised that they’d made a deal.

Miranda still hung helpless while they discussed the bargain price to own her forever along with some sort of trade. The voice seemed familiar, but it was difficult to place it as distracted as she was by her own intense discomfort.

“Are you sure?”

“I can handle her.”

Her last hope of being put down was officially dashed upon the rocks as they fitted her into a cage for transport.

Entirely possible that this was the end of the line.

After a long trip, she was dumped out, wrists still bound.

Kneeling on the cold floor, waiting to see her new home.

All this time, the collar had been pulsing and sending signals into her exhausted brain. Calibrating her to her new owner.

The hood came off and after a burst of harsh light, her eyes adjusted to surroundings she recognized. Then her eyes settled on the one who had purchased her.

Doctor Isobel was already putting on a fresh set of gloves. “Most doctors are not expected to go to such lengths for their patients.”

As she examined Miranda, a look of diabolical glee took over the doctor.

“Since I own you now, let’s have a bit of fun.”

Miranda tried to protest but the words turned to a weak dribble of drool.

“Annalise, prepare the patient. We have a long night ahead of us.”

The machines hummed to life.

Chapter Text

Long into the night, the clinic was still buzzing with strange devices.

When the doctor activated the machine, Miranda’s mouth filled with an unmanageable amount of spit which spilled from her lips and splattered onto the dirty floor.

“Hmm, interesting.” She made notes and then chewed on her thumb, considering the next test.

Since being sold, Miranda had spent her nights as the doctor’s plaything, her personal slave. And she had made no indication that she planned to release her. She was taking the purchase seriously.

The collar kept her docile and obedient, even when she was being jabbed with dirty needles or cleaning the doctor’s shoes with her tongue while waiting for the next medical nightmare to be inflicted on her.

When she wasn’t being transformed into a sex doll, the doctor would occasionally indulge her darker tendencies. Injecting her with a fluid that made her entire body burn. Or sewing a small slug parasite onto her neck and watching how it squirmed when she electrocuted Miranda.

Miranda never saw any evidence that the doctor ever slept, despite spending what felt like a week straight in the doctor’s clutches.

Any rest Miranda got was after forcibly passing out from exhaustion. Then she’d wake up strapped into a machine with sensors stuck to her scalp to read her brain activity.

Bulbs on the device were flickering as the doctor massaged Miranda’s foot, looking for a target.

“And how does this feel?”

She felt a sharp needle jab her in a very specific and sensitive spot. As soon as she felt the pressure her heart raced as she was assaulted by the intensity. The machine lit up in an erratic pattern as Miranda struggled.

“Oh, does that feel good?” She pressed in harder. “How about we make it feel even better?”

The machine spun up and Miranda went temporarily blind as it readjusted her wiring. When the procedure completed, Miranda’s brain felt scorched and dipped in acid.

Isobel summoned the maid. “Give her a suck. Let’s mark our progress.”

The maid nodded once and knelt down, locking her lips against the arch of Miranda’s foot.

When she nibbled, Miranda was overwhelmed by a wave of sensations she had no defense for. She screamed as much as the collar would allow, which came out as more of a strained gurgle.

“Don’t be such a lightweight. I could do more, you know. I could make your feet so sensitive you cant take a single step without cumming your brains out.” The doctor licked her lips, thinking of past experiments. “I performed that operation on a hunter once. One of your predecessors. Poor bitch had to walk around on all fours.” Isobel bit her bottom lip hard. “She didn’t last long after that.”

She tapped the maid to signal for her to stop.

“But I think that would be a waste on a subject like you.” She pressed her finger to Miranda’s ass, teasing the hole. “We can do more with you if we don’t hyperfixate.”

Between operations she ate from a dog bowl, slurping up every morsel of slop they gave her, no matter how many obvious pills were hidden inside. Then she would rest her head on the floor and wait patiently for the next time she was needed, even though she was internally begging for escape.

Something in the cocktail of medicines and treatments were burning holes in her sense of time. Eventually she was no longer passing out. Her perception would change entirely, transporting her to a cold, black void filled only with whispers from the moon and the sounds of something creeping toward her.

Then she snapped back into herself on all fours and full of dread as a device pressed tight against her asshole. Realizing what was happening at the exact moment it penetrated her.

As it slipped inside, she pleaded silently to the maid, but she was unmoved. Her loyalty to the doctor far exceeded any flimsy claim Miranda might have held.

The doctor put her foot on Miranda’s shoulder and gave a shove. “Go on. Get it so deep that you can taste it. Then we can begin your next procedure.”

Miranda took a deep breath and braced herself before forcing another inch of it into her guts.

Biting her lips as she bobbed and rocked against it, wincing at each shred of progress. Crying silently.

“Do you enjoy that? If not, then you will soon.”

She had to wonder if this encore to her obedience training was a coincidence or deliberate. Perhaps she’d had a talk with the trainer who’d broken her in and it had given her ideas.

When it had gone in as far as it could, she rocked a few times to be sure. Looking to the doctor with sad eyes to indicate this was her limit.

“In there good and tight? Excellent.” She activated the machine.

Something warm flooded deep into her ass, followed quickly by the first electrical shock.

The entire time she was suffering this torture, there was a prevailing thought haunting her. She was pregnant and the longer she spent as the doctor’s plaything, the closer she got to the point of no return.

———

Afterwards, Miranda was laid out face down on the floor while the doctor pressed a hard cylinder into her ass with her foot. Miranda writhed as the object plunged into her.

While the feelings were intense, they were not quite pleasurable, though that line was blurred every time she received one of these modifications.

“Not quite right. It doesn’t seem to have taken properly.” The doctor gave the object three quick taps, causing Miranda to spasm. “I think we need to resort to corruptive measures.”

While the doctor was prepping, Miranda was kneeling on the floor, waiting.

It was one of the few times she wasn’t strapped into a machine or compelled to wait in a submissive pose. She took the opportunity to reach down and touch her belly.

It had swelled, no doubt about it.

This was the moment she began to feel genuine terror about the thing growing inside her. For as long as she could remember, she’d harbored a fear of pregnancy. And now it had her, sinking deeper into a quicksand by the second.

If the doctor noticed her quivering in terror, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“The modifications only work when using the corruption as a catalyst.” She took a gravy boat-shaped container from the maid. “And thankfully Annalise was able to source some fresh sperm. Otherwise we might have to end this little experiment.”

Miranda whimpered and opened her mouth wide, tongue out.

“No, not there.” She grabbed Miranda by the hair to steady her. “To make the corruption absorb more efficiently, you need to get in on membranes that haven’t been fully contaminated yet. Though it’s hard to find such a spot on you since you started whoring yourself out.”

She stuck the spout up Miranda’s nose and she was assaulted by the pungent smell of mysteriously sourced semen.

“Wait, you haven’t been fucked in the nose, right?” She shrugged and began pouring.

Tears poured from her eyes as she fought against being drowned by the vile fluid flooding her skull.

———

Another battery of tests and treatments.

The doctor pressed a combination of keys and Miranda felt a warmth bloom in the back of her brain as pulses tampered with her mind. “I could give you fetishes that don’t even have names yet.” Another key press and the heat intensified, making Miranda’s right eye blink compulsively.

A bell rang in the clinic, announcing someone at the door. Isobel stopped and sighed. “I’m busy.”

Another bell and she stood up with a grunt of frustration to go answer it.

She couldn’t imagine anyone visiting the doctor of their own free will, but she soon realized the purpose of the visit. Her debt had once again reached a breaking point.

Miranda could hear the doctor at the door. “I don’t care how much she owes, I’m not done with her yet.”

Some more low talk from the Matron’s goon that she couldn’t hear.

“Ugh, here.” The Doctor fetched a bag of coins from a purse near the door and handed it to the guard. “There, call that a rental fee.”

The doctor was actively irritated as she returned. “I shouldn’t have to share.”

She stared at Miranda for long time before her frustration bubbled up and replaced her gleeful medical indulgence.

“I could do anything I wanted to you.” She grabbed Miranda’s breasts and hefted them in her hands. “How about these? Do you want them bigger? Let’s go up a size.” She snapped her fingers at the maid. “Put her in the proper machine. I want to see her squirm.”

What followed was the longest and most painful treatment since they’d begun, her body contorted by jolts and chemicals. Each blackout she suffered only moved her further in the process. Her blood screamed in ways she could not.

When she was finally released and dumped out on the floor, her body was a mass of brutal aches. Entire slabs of her body were on fire like they’d been extracted, blended, and shoved back into her. But beyond the baseline pain, she noticed that her chest had gained even more weight. Her breasts had tipped over into being unwieldy.

“Now you look more like a proper cathouse bimbo.” She petted Miranda’s face, finger swiping across her lower lip. “You should show me your appreciation.”

Miranda tried to get up on her knees but her limbs weren’t agreeable.

“Annalise, clean up the machines. We’re done for the night. I’m going to take this one for a test run.”

The maid nodded and went to work while the doctor tugged her patient by the collar.

“I paid for a prostitute. I might as well treat you like one.”

———

Isobel dragged her to a private room and threw her onto a previously unused bed. She closed the door behind them, leaving the room in nearly complete darkness but for a few beams of moonlight peeking through a boarded up window. The edges of the doctor’s body were barely visible as she stripped off her clothes.

“It’s so rare I get to appreciate my work.”

Miranda quivered at the sight of the doctor’s body crawling onto the bed and moving toward her in the dark.

For all the time she’d spent naked and abused by the doctor, this was a new kind of intimacy. She gasped at the first touch of her skin, arching her back to give the doctor full access to her body.

Even during sex, the doctor was needlessly cruel, biting and scratching and pinching to see how hard she could make her squirm.

Her hand slid down to Miranda’s ass, parting her cheeks.

The doctor’s fingers pressed inside and she felt a jolt of strange pleasure.

“How does that feel? Does it feel good?” She drove another finger in and Miranda convulsed uncontrollable at the sensation. “Does it feel so good you’re going to lose your mind?”

As scared as she was of the twisted form her body had taken, all she could do was spread her legs and accept the violent ass pounding. Driven closer to madness by each finger added and each new depth reached.

One last pump and twist and she released Miranda. “Enough. Let’s put that mouth to work.”

She shoved Miranda down and mounted her face, locking her thighs around her head. Miranda was more than happy to service her. Eating the doctor’s pussy was the only real break she’d gotten so far from the needless torment.

As she rode her face, Miranda could barely hear the frenzied whisper the doctor was chanting.

“You’re such a good subject. I’m going change you until your body can’t take it. Until you fall apart. Until I turn you into a fucking puddle.”

Unbidden, Miranda’s mind filled with images of her splayed out at the doctor’s mercy, excitedly submitting herself to obliteration by rusty, fiendish machines. The images were so vivid and lust-inducing that they must have been one of the presents the doctor had left in her mind.

When the doctor came she filled Miranda’s mouth with an absurd amount of squirt. Enough to wonder if the doctor had performed any operations on herself. Miranda swallowed as much as she could but it still soaked her face.

The doctor only needed a moment to recover before she resumed rocking her hips against Miranda’s face. “Eat.”

She came two more times before she’d finally gotten her fill and released Miranda, legs quivering. A round wet spot spreading from Miranda’s soaked face and hair.

The maid appeared in the room with a soft cloth ready to dab at the doctor’s sweaty face and neck.

“Hmm.” After catching her breath, the doctor reached under the maid’s skirt and pulled down her panties. The maid stepped out of them when prompted, without ever stopping her delicate treatment of the doctor.

“She’s been such a good servant to you. I think it’s only fair to return the favor.” She twirled the maid’s underwear around one finger. “Annalise, open your legs.”

The maid obediently lifted her skirt, offering up Miranda’s next meal.

Miranda crawled toward her, resigned to eating pussy until her jaw fell off.

Miranda had to measure the maid’s pleasure by the occasional twitches of her thigh muscles. No matter how long she ate her out or how fast her tongue worked, she could never get a real moan out of her.

Isobel smoked a hand-rolled cigarette as she watched the show, rubbing one foot against Miranda’s back.

“Next time I should make your tongue longer. Would you like that?” She let out the smoke in a long, luxurious exhale, watching it drift away slowly.

“But that is going to have to wait.” She took one last drag of her cigarette and stamped it out. “Annalise, clean her up. We’re ready to discharge the patient.”

———

Wearing a loose robe, the doctor pulled Miranda’s head into her lap so she could tamper with the subjugation collar. Isobel fumbled with a set of lockpicks, each poke sending a jolt of cold energy through Miranda’s mind.

“The treatments aren’t working anymore. Or rather they’re not working well enough.” She pinched Miranda’s ear. “I’ll have to cut you loose so you can get some fresh semen in you. I can’t afford to let you guzzle down all my samples for diminishing returns.”

Miranda held perfectly still throughout this process, unwilling to believe that it was actually over.

“They don’t make this easy. There.”

One more jolt and the collar fell away, revealing bruised flesh underneath.

Miranda’s body spasmed and the blocker preventing her from speaking finally relented. A stream of blue goo shot out her throat, gagging her.

The doctor put her foot on Miranda’s neck and pushed her away hard to avoid the mess. Waiting out the puking fit, the doctor examined the collar which was already disintegrating in her hands.

When she could breath again, Miranda coughed and sputtered to get out the words through her sore throat. “I’m pregnant! You have to help me!”

Isobel flipped through the various cards featuring blood tests she’d been running. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Before Miranda could continue, she remembered her shame at being naked and covered in sex juices. She curled up to try and hide herself.

“Can I have some clothes now?”

The doctor shrugged and the maid went to fetch an old sheet which she set over Miranda’s shoulders.

She clutched it tight to cover herself. “Do you think you could help me?” Her hands found her belly under the sheet.

“Help you?” The doctor looked down at her like a disobedient puppy, already rethinking her decision to remove the collar. Then the moment passed and she lit another of her homemade cigarettes. “I suppose I could help with your problem, but I’m not properly equipped.”

“What?” Miranda looked around at the wealth of nightmarish machines she’d been subjected to. If they could unknit her very body, it seemed like one of them should have been able to do something.

“A procedure like that would be quite an investment in time. And it would require supplies from my old clinic. I would suggest you go there on your own time as I am rather busy here.”

Miranda tried to summon up the rage and resentment she’d been building all this time, but it dissipated before it could get started. Just looking at the Doctor hit her with an oppressive sense of calm.

Something about that collar had broken her down.

Even though she knew she wanted to cut off the Doctor’s head, trying to envision it make her hands weak. And the look of her lips around that cigarette made her weaker.

“What are you waiting around for? Off with you. I need some time alone.” She took a drag and let out a swirling cloud of smoke. “After all, you’re on a time limit.”

———

When Miranda returned to the villa she was doubled over by a coughing fit as she expelled another burst of blue fluid. It had barely splattered on the floor before the maid was on her knees to clean it up. She was still eager to serve despite her supposed master eating her pussy endlessly.

During her bath, Miranda’s hands kept creeping to her bruised, singed throat. Squeezing it and compressing while the rest of her body screamed with unfamiliar sensations. Each gentle squeeze brought on a flood of memories of being captured, trapped, used. And each memory brought her closer to a panic attack.

What she needed was a way to assert her own dominance and cure herself of the long trial she’d suffered. But when she went down to the basement to vent her frustrations, her personal slave had vanished. All that remained were the empty chains.

“What the hell? Where is she?”

The maid appeared at her side. “Doctor Isobel did not have the required funds for your purchase so she negotiated a lower price in exchange for a trade.”

“But… she was mine.”

“Would you like to use me instead?” The maid lifted her skirt as an offer.

“I… No, I have to leave.” Miranda felt a sudden deep embarrassment at the realization that she had been keeping a human slave this entire time, a sin that she had accepted as normal. And it meant she had committed the same crimes as the ones who had captured her and paraded her around like livestock.

There was nothing left but to try to find the old clinic and hope that something could still be done to stop the thing growing inside her. The maid was ready to give her directions, but what she described was further into the town than she’d ever been before.

Not that she had much of a choice.

As she dressed, the look of herself in the mirror was a shock. Aside from all the odd curves, her hair had grown back faster than it should have, barely concealing the nub of her remaining horn. She had a dim recollection of the doctor sawing it off so she would fit in one of the machines. She pressed her finger to the remaining point and winced in pain.

Too weak to resist the urge, she put on a layered dress that at least hid her belly, matching it with a lace choker around her neck to hide some of the bruising.

After spending so long as an animal, walking on two legs was a skill she had to relearn.

In addition, her body felt like it had been shattered and put back together wrong. Various parts were sending her odd sensations, a wealth of new erogenous zones being agitated with every step.

If she didn’t focus, she’d drift into a drooling fit of vertigo.

What exactly had the doctor done to her? It seemed clear the the full extent of the doctor’s modifications were a set of nasty surprises she was going to have to discover as time went on.

The maid’s directions led her into a district with dim lampposts emitting faint green light. The buildings were shabbier, some taken over by a creeping vine.

The further she went into the vile lands, the thicker the air became.

When she heard beasts stomping by, she ducked into a shadowy alley and let them pass. She didn’t trust herself to fight when she could barely walk, when it was a struggle to not drool all over herself.

Stealth would have kept working if a creature didn’t already have her scent.

She continued on, searching for a clinic that she was becoming more and more afraid didn’t exist at all, that this was some kind of sick joke.

The next time she stopped to catch her breath, the fog parted enough to reveal the spires of the cathedral. Haloed by the moon like a scratch on the sky.

Miranda spared a thought for the Vicar’s congregation, wondering what happened in the aftermath of the ceremony. But she let that thought drift away with the fog.

As she resumed walking, she stopped immediately at the sight ahead of her.

There was a dark shape in the road, standing perfectly still. Miranda couldn’t tell what it was until it turned and began stomping towards her.

As she was backing away, readying her weapon, the creature stepped through the moonlight. That was when she recognized it as the black tar monster that had been hunting her, even after being turned into piles of sludge.

“You again? You still haven’t gotten enough after the last few times I-” She was cut off by a surprise burst of fluid in her throat and spat it out onto the dirty ground. “Ugh. Fuck it. Let’s just fight.”

It blocked her first strike with its forearm, despite that same strike previously being able to split him like a bag of juice. Was she getting weaker or was he stronger?

The saw was lodged in its flesh, black sludge leaking from the wound.

“Let go, you-” The creature charged forward and grabbed her around the neck with its unwounded arm.

The sudden choking pressure sent a bolt of pleasure through her body that shut down her resistance. Curses turned to whimpering moans.

Fighting through the pleasure, she kicked it as strong as she could manage, some of the strikes even removing wet chunks from its torso, but they didn’t phase the Pursuer. To cease her struggles it slammed her against the nearest wall, knocking the breath out of her.

When she was docile, its flesh shifted and thick, dripping tentacles emerged from its wound, reaching for her body.

Each one was already dripping a wretched slime as they explored her body. The largest of them slapped her cheek and slid across her face, fouling her.

When next she kicked at it, a tentacle took the opportunity and jabbed her in the ass. The sudden wriggling pressure turned off her resistance and she went limp in the creature’s grip.

It was prepared to commit an act of corruption on her, but as soon as one of the tendrils touched her stomach, the creature froze in surprise at what it heard within her.

The curse in her belly sang to the Pursuer, which was plenty of distraction for the dark shape approaching from behind.

It let out a gurgle the moment before the first strike shredded its neck, and it lost its grip on Miranda. Then another strike as Etcetera descended on it.

A handful of feathers fell free as she carved the creature. She dismantled it in a spray of dark sludge and pinned its head between her boot and the ground. A deep grunt and she stomped it with a profound squelching crunch.

Miranda watched it happen from her place on the ground, under a rain of the thick slime gushing from its body.

The violence of this new stranger was a familiar sight. Etcetera, the one sponsoring her rampage through the village, had finally returned.

One last hack and the Pursuer fell apart. As Etcetera had barely worked up a sweat.

In the sudden silence, she looked down at Miranda. “There you are. Finally come back to finish what you started?”

Miranda pushed herself to her feet, thighs still quivering. “I… thanks.”

Etcetera sighed and shook the viscera from her blades. “Well, you might as well come with me. Let’s get you off the street before anything else makes a meal of you.”

———

Etcetera’s home was located down a shadowy alley that Miranda never would have noticed had she not been led directly there.

Inside, through a heavy locked door, there was a strong scent of straw and candle wax. Etcetera took off her hunting coat and hung it by the door. “Come in. But don’t get too comfortable. I’m kicking you out as soon as I get tired of you.”

Now that she was safely indoors, Miranda could begin to feel annoyed. Annoyed that the only person who’d genuinely tried to help her had left her adrift for so long. “Where the hell have you been all this time?”

“What do you mean? I saw you less than a week ago.”

“No, it’s been at least-” Miranda stopped and tried to get a grasp on how much time had actually passed. It felt like years had gone by.

“However long it’s been, you’ve been busy. Thank goodness for that.” She sat down heavily on a chair by the window. “Vicar’s dead. I assume that was your doing.”

Miranda broke into a nervous sweat. “Yeah. That was me.”

“From what I hear, she died on her own ceremonial grounds. How did you manage that? No one’s ever broken in there before.”

“I was invited.”

“Invited?” Her expression changed. “You didn’t…”

“What?”

Etcetera stood up, anger in her eyes. “The Vicar only invites people like you for one purpose.”

Miranda reflexively touched her belly which was more than enough of a tell for what had happened to her.

Etcetera pulled her to her feet and in the process brushed against the growing bump.

“You’re pregnant?”

Miranda turned away to hide her belly.

“Damn it. We’re running out of time. I can’t believe you already let this happen.”

“I didn’t let anything happen!”

Etcetera grunted in disgust and returned to sulk in her chair. “I’d kill you myself if I thought it would do any good.”

“It’s not my fault I got taken in by people who turned out to be some sort of rape cult.”

“You didn’t realize by looking at them?”

When Miranda thought back to her time with the Vicar, trying to remember clues as to her intentions, all that came to mind was the heavy weight of her breasts and the bitter rush of milk down her throat. It was a memory strong enough to make her body tremble.

Etcetera stood again and kicked her chair away. “Look at you. You’re a horny mess.” Miranda was overtaken with a sudden thrill as Etcetera advanced on her. “What really happened? Did you ask for it? Did you beg them?”

She grabbed Miranda by the hair and pulled her close.

The scent of her was exciting. Sweat and blood.

“I told you already. If you want to act like a fucking whore, you do it in private. Understand?”

The embrace was intensely intimate, even before Etcetera reached between her thighs and grabbed Miranda tight.

“You’re already so wet. What have you been letting that doctor do to you?” Then she grunted and shoved her fingers inside.

The sudden force and domination made her weak and she parted her legs as the powerful woman pounded her. Driving her fingers deep like she was trying to break her.

When Miranda touched the woman’s chest, she swatted her hands away. “No. You’re the one getting fucked.”

As she rode Etcetera’s hand, she was wishing for even more violence. “…choke me.”

There was a slight pause in the thrusting and Etcetera’s strong hand let go of her hair to lock around Miranda’s neck. It sent her into an explosion of pleasure.

The tighter her hold, the closer she got. Until finally she came, writhing and losing control. Lights burst in her eyes and the constant whispering of voices from inside her brain were banished. A powerful enough explosion that she could see a shred of her real mind, buried as it was beneath chemicals and corruption.

Etcetera released her and she slid to the ground.

“Back to your senses?”

Miranda looked away and adjusted her dress to cover her legs.

———

The sudden sexual encounter had not phased Etcetera. More than anything she looked tired as she waited for Miranda to get to her feet and reassemble herself.

“Our time is running out, but at least the Vicar’s dead.” She parted a curtain to examine the moon, unnerved by how much closer it seemed. “It’s not enough though.”

“Then what will be enough?”

She let the curtain fall. “I’ll show you.”

Miranda followed her on wobbly legs to a room lit by a single lantern. Across one wall was a chalk marked diagram. Crude drawings, some of them crossed out and a series of question marks around the edges. It took some study to realize that this was a hit list.

It was nice to see some representation of progress, but the number of question marks and loose threads was disconcerting.

Etcetera pointed at the largest figure, a crude spider circled many times. “Find this one. It’s my best lead. I even know exactly where she is.”

“Where?”

“Where the road ends.” Next to the drawing was a hand drawn map of the area, with one section crossed out with thick black lines. “Not far from here the main road terminates into a place of rot.” She rearranged the pins, adjusting the drawings. “Beyond the rot is a university. Or a former university. After the corruption came, the entire area surrounding it was consumed by poison.”

“Hmm…”

“You want to see real progress? Get through that swamp, find the school, and kill whatever you find there.”

“Will that get me out of this place?”

“Maybe. To be honest, I don’t know what will happen. But it will be big.”

Miranda chewed on her lip. “I’m not too keen on trudging through poison.”

“What do you expect? A clean swamp?” Etcetera threw her hands up. “You want me to wrap you up, swaddle you like a baby, and carry you there?”

Miranda shuffled her feet. “Maybe.”

Etcetera rolled her eyes. “Just get out there. And do it quick because you’ve given us a stricter time limit.” She motioned at Miranda’s belly.

Miranda was suddenly annoyed at the implication. “Look, I’m trying to fix it. If I can find the doctor’s old clinic…” Her words died out as she saw the look on Etcetera’s face.

“What clinic? What are you doing out here?”

Miranda cleared her throat. “The doctor said she could help me if I went to her old clinic and-”

“Why would you trust anything she says? What do you think she’ll actually do for you? She’s more likely to stick you full of needles and see what kind of monster she can cook inside you.”

Miranda was about to argue, but the effort died before it began. Instead she straightened her dress and headed for the door. “I should be going.”

“Yeah, you should.”

As she stepped back onto the road, her enthusiasm and urgency had been snuffed out, but she continued on.

As if the town were finally relenting to her, the moonlight illuminated the path to her target. All the roaming beasts slept long enough for her to follow the maid’s directions to a ramshackle building covered in equal parts filth and teeth marks.

This was the place. It even had the same sigil over the door the doctor’s current clinic bore.

The front door was rotted and shattered with a single kick.

She wandered through with her hand clamped over her mouth to suppress the smell.

There was nothing left here but mold and scraps. Not a piece of machinery or equipment remained.

Whatever she’d hoped to find here, it was long gone or never existed.

Her tiny shred of hope was evaporating, replaced by a frantic anxiety. Her belly was going to keep growing and there was no way to stop it.

As if on cue, the peaks of the cathedral appeared again from the heavy fog. It was an instant reminder of how she’d gotten into this situation, and who was responsible.

Even though the weaponsmith was at the very top of her blood vengeance list, the cult was a strong runner up. She could pay him a visit after she summoned up a river of churchgoer blood.

Miranda appeared on cathedral grounds with a battle scream, but the one apparent guard didn’t even look up at her.

She’d come here ready for a fight, expecting them to be ready to kill her on sight, but he was barely aware of her.

When she put her foot to his shoulder and shoved, he crumpled to the floor. As a test, she stomped on his hand and he didn’t flinch.

When she entered the cathedral, she found more cultists in the same state. Drifting through the halls like ghosts. It was unclear if they even recognized her.

Within the inner chambers, she happened upon a feral creature that had snuck onto the premises for an easy meal. What looked at first like a sack of laundry was another cultist. He was collapsed on the floor while the creature gnawed at his ankle, attempting to drag him into the night.

The creature paused when it saw Miranda, like a guilty dog stealing scraps.

“Do whatever you want. It’s not my problem.”

Whether the creature understood or not, it resumed dragging its prize.

“No, you fiend. You can’t have another!”

From the darkness ran a woman Miranda had been very familiar with on her last visit. Herasine, the cathedral dweller.

She attacked the creature with a broken off broomstick, beating it on the head until it finally dropped its prey and retreated.

She froze when she saw Miranda, an awe dawning on her face as she recognized her.

“Hunter? You’ve returned?”

Miranda wasn’t sure if this girl was going to try and seek vengeance with her broomstick, but before she could react, the dweller dropped the stick and ran to her.

“Hunter! I never thought I’d see you again.” She bowed deeply in front of Miranda. “After you left for the ceremony, I thought you lost.”

“Uh… hello again.” Miranda was taken aback. “It’s a little different around here.”

“The congregation is afflicted with a great sadness. We felt it happen. The Vicar has met the fate she foretold.” The dweller gestured at the cathedral. “When we felt her blood cry out, everyone here fell into a deep period of mourning. I fear we may never awake from this sorrow.”

As she was speaking, the creature slinked back in and was dragging the cult member away by the ankle. Miranda let it go.

“So you don’t know what happened to her?”

“There’s been no word from her children in the valley. I fear the beasthood has taken them.”

“Oh.” This was a convenient turn.

The dweller’s eyes lit up. “Wait. You went with her. Do you know anything?”

Miranda began sweating. “Uh, no. I guess I’m not sure what happened.”

As she mumbled through an excuse, a realization appeared on the dweller’s face. “Did you… Did you complete the ceremony? Before she…”

Suddenly, she dropped to her knees and grabbed Miranda by the hips, pressing her cheek to Miranda’s belly.

“I can feel it. The Vicar’s final gift.”

“No, that’s not- I mean, sort of.”

“Please, come to my quarters. You can rest, or eat. Take anything from me. It’s yours.”

Back at the dweller’s quarters, Miranda sat on her bed while she rushed to prepare a meal.

She could remember the last time she was here and the wealth of services Herasine had performed for her. And that memory stirred her blood.

She was pressing her thighs together when the dweller returned with a bowl of soup.

“Here. Drink this. It will make you strong. It has nutrients necessary for a mother’s body.”

The word ‘mother’ set Miranda’s teeth on edge, but she still took the bowl. “You really didn’t have to do this. I was just passing through.”

“No, but I must. You carry the Vicar’s last blessing. It is my duty to serve and nurture however I am able.”

As Miranda took the first sip of the warm soup, she wondered how the dweller’s demeanor would change is she told her she stabbed the Vicar in the heart and bathed in her gore. She sighed and drank deep. Better not to cause herself any extra trouble.

As she finished the soup, the dweller was at her feet, massaging her legs while staring at her with open worship.

“I can already see a difference. You’ve had more blood ministrations since we last met, haven’t you?”

“I suppose.” She assumed she meant the doctor’s hobby of turning her body into a series of sexual organs. “I should get back home soon.”

“Already?” She looked around in a panic. “But you must be cared for. Do you have someone to attend to your needs?”

“I have a maid. Sometimes.”

“Does she take care of every need as it arises? Is she trained in how to care for you?”

Miranda shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

The dweller knelt down and kissed Miranda’s feet. “Please, let me care for you. It’s all I live for.”

“Aren’t you needed around here?”

“I exist only to protect and nurture the Vicar’s blessings.”

“Well…”

“If you want to own my body, heart, and soul, all you must do is ask.” She kissed her way up Miranda’s thighs. “Even if all you need me for is base gratification, I would gladly provide that as well.”

Either the soup or the warmth of the room, or the entity watching unseen, something emboldened her. She was reminded of the recent vacancy in the villa.

“And what if I wanted to enslave you? Keep you locked up in my basement.” She parted her legs further as an offer.

“Yes. Use me. Own me.”

Miranda grabbed the girl with the same aggression Etcetera had shown her earlier, forcing her between her thighs. “Then prove yourself useful.”

The dweller graciously ate her out with a supplicant’s zeal. Her expert tongue-work sent Miranda into a fit of ecstasy. The girl had been trained well.

She suppressed her resentment of her body as she exposed her breasts, massaging them as she indulged her desires.

The longer it went on, the closer she got to orgasm, and the more a cloud infected her mind. A fog like the one choking the town circled around her, dropping her into a state of dreamlike stupor.

As her eyes clouded over, the entity in the cathedral crept lower.

It’s breath filled the chamber as a long, throbbing appendage reached down for her body.

The two women were hypnotized and oblivious as it touched the phallus to Miranda’s belly, dragging it along her body. When it slid against her cheek, Miranda parted her lips and accepted it inside with a deep moan.

Her mouth was perfectly sized to accept the dripping tentacle. A destined match. Divine levels of pleasure as it began pumping and violating her throat.

When the filthy slime spilled across her tongue, she swallowed greedily.

After it vanished, so did any trace that it had been there, existing as a strange haze in Miranda’s mind and an odd taste in her mouth.

Herasine continued eating her out through the entire episode, herself only vaguely aware that they were party to a divine event.

The only evidence of what it had done was the fluttering of movement in Miranda’s belly, and the first dribble of nutrient-rich milk from her nipples.

Chapter Text

The beast gave one last ear-splitting scream before Miranda’s saw cleaved its skull.

After struggling against its death throes, she planted her feet and dragged the blade through bone and sinew. The beast let out one last bellow followed by a geyser of red.

Even before she’d hacked this creature apart, the blood was calling to her. And now the hot viscera sought her out, coating her body and driving her to a familiar madness.

She slipped and fell on her ass as the visions began. The sky above her became a knitted mass of writhing meat. The warmth of it descending to snuff her out and add her meat to the tapestry.

Then she snapped out of her hallucination, leaving nothing but the throbbing moon above.

It took time and effort to stand back up.

Exertions like this were becoming harder. Even though her belly was still just a bump, the pregnancy was already knocking her over at regular intervals with sickness and nausea. And eventually she would be so big she wouldn’t be able to get out of bed, let alone go hunting.

This target was one of the lesser goals on Etcetera’s hit list, meant to be a warm up for her real target: the spider at the other end of the swamp.

Like her other expeditions of late, she detoured to see the poison hell, still dripping in viscera.

Miranda stood at the edge of the swamp, considering charging forth as the cobblestones she stood on shifted beneath her feet, determined that this was the time.

As she took a single step forward, the wind shifted and she was hit in the face with an overwhelming stench of rot that twisted her already upset stomach.

Again she retreated to the villa where her caretaker waited.

So far every time she’d made the trek out here, it had ended the same way. She lost her nerve and went back home try and build up her courage.

Next time, for sure.

———

Despite her blood-drenched visage, the dweller was elated to see Miranda return. This meant she had a project.

Since Miranda had claimed her and taken her home, the dweller had eagerly accepted her new role. A maid when she needed care. A slave when she wanted to satisfy her sexual needs.

All Miranda had to do was sit and soak in the warm water as the dweller attended to her, her ministrations inevitably progressing into a lengthy worship of Miranda’s body. Quietly drinking up the attention as the dweller’s hands were replaced by lips and tongue.

As the dweller dried her off after the bath she would spend long moments kissing Miranda’s belly. It was the girl’s most irritating fixation that Miranda begrudgingly allowed. She took on an attitude of annoyance even though each kiss and lick spread warm waves through her.

Despite her refusal of motherhood, her feelings about her changing body were gradually shifting from horror to fetishization. All thanks to the dweller’s infectious enthusiasm.

She was halfway through a daydream about having a huge, full belly when she realized what was happening and answered it with disgust. She pushed the dweller away. “Enough.”

“My Lady?”

“Go get my cock.”

The dweller gave her a quick bow and hurried to fetch her favorite strap-on.

While she was gone, Miranda drifted into the dreamy mood she often fell into lately. She blamed it on the hormones, but that didn’t help to explain the soft voices that were trying to worm into her brain during every quiet moment. Telling her to lay on her back, spread her legs, grow large.

By the time she woke from her dream state, the dweller had already returned and was in the process of attaching the strap-on to Miranda, tightening the harness.

She gave it a stroke and the voices were banished.

As soon as the apparatus was fully secured, she commanded the dweller to get on her knees.

“Be a good girl and suck it.”

Herasine nodded once and knelt down, extending her tongue. She gave the head a swirl before taking it in her mouth.

“Take it deeper, bitch.”

It was spite driving her as she grabbed her by the hair and made her deepthroat it, forcing it down until the dweller’s nose was touching Miranda’s belly.

Even as tears leaked from her eyes, she never resisted. That devotion felt like a challenge to try and break her. With a grunt she began fucking the dweller’s throat.

The dweller was turning red by the time she finally pulled her off, a line of spittle running down her chin. Just for fun she gave her a slap across the face.

“You like being fucked like a slut?”

The dweller coughed and gasped. “Thank you, Mommy.”

The word gave Miranda pause as her blood boiled. She was about to smack her again, but instead shoved her onto the bed.

She pulled down the dweller’s dress and gave her breast a suck and a bite. “Take this off. Mommy wants your pussy.”

Her blood ran hot as she bent the girl over and rammed into her from behind. Driving the cock in deep with all of her weight.

But brutalizing her new slave could only do so much to stifle her urges.

Since she’d enslaved the dweller she had a hard rule about always being the one doing the fucking. But that meant some of her own needs were rotting her mind the longer they were unfulfilled.

With each thrust she began picturing herself on the receiving end.

“You like Mommy’s cock?”

“Yes, I love it.”

She grabbed a handful of the dweller’s hair and pulled hard, and she could almost feel the pressure on her own scalp.

She had a vivid vision of cum pumping into her from all angles. Every hole being obliterated at once.

The only way to punish herself for this was to transfer that rage to the dweller.

“You fucking slut.”

There would be no rest until this girl was cumming and crying.

———

Afterwards, Miranda was collapsed in bed, a tired and sweaty mess. Already in need of another bath. The dweller lay beside her, stroking Miranda’s body.

As she was caressing Miranda’s breasts, she let out a small gasp of surprise.

Miranda looked down to see that she was enamored by a dribble of fresh milk from her nipples.

“May I?”

Her immediate compulsion was to say no and kick her out of bed, but she was too tired for more cruelty.

“Fine. Do it.” She raised her arms and looked away, gasping as Herasine’s lips locked around her tender nipple.

Each suck and slurp made her toes curl.

She reached over to the discarded strap-on and gave it a squeeze. Then, when she was sure the dweller wasn’t looking, she brought it to her mouth for a quick suck.

As she rushed quicker to climax, she tossed it away, even though what she really wanted was to jam it in her own pussy. But that didn’t fit with the veil of dominance she’d built with her new slave.

So instead she quietly touched herself, rushing to a hasty orgasm that made her feel a new kind of shame. Biting her lip to fight back the moans.

The dweller gave one last suck and swallowed the meager amount of milk. “Thank you, Mommy.” Her face was glowing with a gratitude that made Miranda uncomfortable.

Miranda pulled a sheet over her body. “Get out of here. Get me some clothes. I need to go hunting.”

The dweller wiped her mouth and rushed off, limping as she went, still naked.

When she tried to get out of bed, Miranda was doubled over by a wave of pain and nausea. Some combination of her pregnancy and the ever-present haunting of withdrawal symptoms.

She was still clutching her belly when the dweller returned.

“My lady?”

“I’m fine.”

“Shouldn’t you go see the doctor? She can certainly help with your discomfort.”

The mention of the doctor put a twinge in her neck. “No, I…”

“But Lady, we must attend to all of your needs.”

The dweller’s sincere concern and the phantom collar both conspired to override her well-deserved caution.

“I suppose I could go in for a check-up.”

“If she can bless you with such wonderful ministrations, surely she can ease your burden.”

Miranda grumbled and allowed the dweller to dress her.

She’d been avoiding the doctor after she was sent on a fake quest to keep her busy and put her in harm’s way. But as terrible as she was, she was still a doctor. If she could ease the sickness, Miranda would be that much closer to actually venturing into the swamp and that much closer to escape.

In the back of her mind there was the hope that after this was done and she gave birth to a screaming skull or a lumpy beast or whatever she was carrying, it was possible that the doctor could do something to prevent this from happening again.

———

When the maid answered the door to the clinic, Miranda realized that she had barely seen her since bringing the dweller home. Though she couldn’t be sure if that was because the maid hadn’t been to the villa, or Miranda hadn’t noticed her around as much because she was so consumed with her new playmate.

When they met the doctor inside, Miranda felt a weight around her neck where the collar had been. Even now she felt the gravity of being owned. She grabbed the dweller’s hand for support.

The maid guided them to the exam table. “Your patient, doctor.”

Isobel ignored them as she dissected a red lump. “Give me a minute.” She studied it close, cataloging the way it quivered and undulated with each poke.

When she finally noticed her guests, the doctor was more interested in the new arrival. She pointed at the dweller. “Who is this?”

“I am Herasine, personal attendant to Lady Miranda.”

“Is that so?” The doctor crossed her legs. “How curious.”

Miranda cleared her throat and stepped between them. “I’m here for a checkup, that’s all.”

“Hmm, I may have a moment to spare. Let’s see if you did as you were told.” She grabbed a swab and needle for a quick blood test.

While she worked, the dweller was enraptured by the sight of the doctor, the one who was the source of her fabled blood ministrations. Miranda wondered if she’d feel the same way if she knew what the doctor was really like. How each procedure was an excuse to torture her.

The doctor seemed annoyed by the test result. “There’s an unusual taint here, but I was really hoping your blood would be filthier by now. Why did you even show up if you aren’t dripping with corruption?”

“Actually, I’m here for something else.” Miranda shivered as the doctor’s hands roamed her body, examining her. “I’m mostly having trouble with my, uh, withdrawal.”

“That’s your problem to solve. It’s the entire reason I cut you loose. I’m not terribly interested in you until more atrocities are inflicted upon this body.” She turned to the dweller and scooted closer. “You, on the other hand, are new meat.”

She motioned Herasine close so she could get a closer look.

A deep blush suffused her face as the doctor pressed her fingers into the dweller’s mouth. “You’re a church girl, aren’t you? I’ve always wanted to get someone like you onto my table.”

Miranda felt a stab of jealousy at the way she was handling her property. But when she cleared her throat, she was ignored.

“You’re one of the Vicar’s attendants, which must mean you’re infertile. Though I wonder what I could do to change that.”

Herasine’s eyes widened and she mumbled around the doctor’s fingers. “Isn’t that a blasphemy?”

“We love our blasphemies around here.”

Miranda hopped off the exam table and stamped her foot. “Okay I think we’re done here. Herasine, we’re leaving.”

The doctor gave her a stern look that withered her. “No, you are the only one leaving.” She pinched the dweller’s tongue as a clear signal for her to stay still. “A little playtime is the least you can do for having to deal with your monetary affairs. You know, the Matron’s goons keep coming here asking for handouts because you aren’t doing your job.”

Miranda ruffled at the mention of the cathouse. The dweller looked to her questioningly and she averted her gaze. For all the time she’d been in control, she didn’t want to admit that she was often a resident of a whore house. “That’s not… I’m taking her and-”

“No. You. Are. Not.”

Miranda groaned, barely resisting the urge to drop down on her knees. “I…”

“Fine, you want me to spell it out? Go whore yourself out for a night or two for some pocket change.” She wiped her hands on the dweller’s dress. “Did you know that your dear Lady is a prostitute?”

Herasine looked at the floor.

The shame and embarrassment sent Miranda for the door.

———

Miranda hit the street fuming and cursing, blood pulsing in her head. Mumbling curses and promises of what she would do to the doctor, thinking that she was headed back to the villa to arm up and take her slave back by force.

When she snapped out of her rage fantasies, she saw that she had unknowingly walked directly to the cathouse. She stood there in shock, unaware how she could have made a mistake until the doctor’s command to go whore herself out rang in her skull.

She would have run away but a guard saw her from the front door and looked ready to chase her down. When she eyed the street looking for an exit, he took a step toward her and reached into his coat.

To satisfy the itch on her neck, and to prevent being forcibly dragged inside, she meekly presented herself for a shift as if that were her aim all along.

She intended to stand behind the bar for awhile, long enough to prove she’d been there to buy her some more time. But when she walked in, someone else was stationed there, slinging drinks. Much more enthusiastic about it than she had ever been.

There was no choice but to change into something scandalous and take a seat in the lounge.

She was surrounded on all sides by cretins smoking and drinking and feeling up the employees. The room had a faint scent that stirred her up, got her heart pumping and her thighs pressing together.

Being here reminded her of how long it had been since she had gotten a ‘dose.’

Despite her best efforts to fade into the background, she was approached almost immediately by a customer who greeted her and sat too close.

“Haven’t seen you around lately.”

Though he looked familiar, it was impossible to keep sorted in her head who he was and what filthy thing he’d already done to her.

Miranda crossed her arms to try and hide her cleavage. “And you won’t see me around here again if I can help it.”

He put his hand on her thigh and she recoiled. “That’s what I like about you. No matter how many times you get broken, you always come back to get broken again.”

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t think for a second I won’t murder you the first second I see you outside. If I weren’t on the clock, I’d be twisting your head off of your body until your neck meat exploded.”

Through all the curses and threats, even as she was detailing how she’d pull out each of his organs in turn, her leg was moving of its own accord, foot trailing up his pant leg.

She was still mumbling weaker and weaker threats as he pulled her feet into his lap.

When he undid his pants and her foot touched hard flesh, she recoiled. But he had a tight hold on her ankle and the resistance ended there.

Her threats turned into a bizarre dirty talk. Describing the way she’d cut off his head and drop his body into a sinkhole as he used her like a cheap stroke toy.

The promised sprays of blood were answered by a hot mess of cum across her skin.

The sudden reintroduction of semen to her body caused her to seize up and fall to the floor.

Her customer was gone by the time she had the strength to get up off the floor. She collected herself, suddenly docile and ashamed at being made to look like a cheap bimbo.

She eased her misery at the bar, feet covered in dried cum. When the bartender offered her a drink, she turned it down. Aside from it being an incredibly bad idea to be drunk around here, she was almost certain this was the girl who she’d fucked in one of the booths and then gotten charged for it. And she would absolutely be on the hook for the offered drink. No telling how far back a single glass might set her.

Her next customer made himself known first with his hand on her ass, giving her a squeeze before even saying hello.

“You free for a spell, sugar? I want a taste.”

While she wanted to leave, the doctor had given her an order that was keeping her firmly in this building. The only way out was as a whore.

So while she could envision herself tackling him to the ground and gouging his eyes out, she stood up and let him lead her to the nearest booth.

———

Miranda was overheating as he slid in between her ass cheeks. “Hurry up and finish.”

“It’d go a lot quicker if you let me put it inside.” He jabbed the head against her asshole, earning him a warning slap.

“Use me so I can go home. Cum on my back if you want, just do it quick.”

“It’d look better on your face.”

Miranda moaned, frustrated, and worked her hips against him.

He leaned against her, humping her as he grabbed her breasts from behind.

“You think you’re too good to get fucked?”

Miranda whimpered and gave up after one attempt at wrenching his hands away from her tits.

As he was molesting her, his hands found her baby bump.

“Oh, what’s this? How did a bitch like you get knocked up?”

Miranda hissed through her teeth. “Shut up and finish already.”

“I see how it is. Is your Daddy the only one you let cum inside?” His hand slid down to her crotch.

When she fought back he pushed her hard against the wall and yanked down her underwear. “Bet that pussy is real nice. You keep it good and tight for him, don’t you?”

Her protests were incoherent babblings as he lined up and forced his way inside. Ass slapping with each pounding thrust.

“So wet. You’re practically begging to get raped.”

Any struggle on her part was met with him grabbing a handful of her hair and driving her face into the wall.

“What’s the problem? You’re already pregnant. Your Daddy won’t even know you let a better man fuck you raw.”

She was crying softly by the time he finished inside her with a few hard, violent thrusts.

As soon as he pulled out and released her, her legs gave out and she collapsed, panting on the floor.

“You know, this sort of thing isn’t allowed. Girls aren’t supposed to give up their pussy unless they’re in the private rooms.” He shoved his wet, still-hard cock in her face. “Clean me off or I’ll tell management you were trying to undercut the establishment and get some side money.”

She was still sniffling as she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around him. Still soaked with traces of semen and her own pussy.

“How does that taste?”

She had hate in her eyes, but her tongue was working overtime to slurp up every last drop. When the last extra dribble of semen filled her mouth she swallowed it without a thought.

Etcetera had explicitly told her to keep her whoring private, but she was failing that command already. There really was no hope for someone like her.

She sponged off the mess and redressed in a hurry. The spell the doctor had put on her had been satisfied and she was not going to spend another second in this building.

Time to even out this indignity with blood.

She returned to the villa get her weapons, the building still quiet and empty, but that wasn’t much of a surprise.

As she stepped back out into the night, she could see the lights of the clinic still burning.

Miranda let out a hateful growl and stomped away, weapons in hand.

———

All through her body, hot pulses were firing off. The doses of fresh semen were affecting her body like a poison. It drove her into a frenzy of confused lust, stopping every few moments to press the handle of her weapon between her thighs and grind against it until her brain could refocus.

She shouldn’t have been out hunting in this state, but she had no other way to deal with this madness. If she wasn’t a hunter, a murderer, then all that was left was a whore.

Frustration drove her into a dark side alley. Something had to be done.

The hem of her dress was clamped in her teeth as she masturbated furiously, desperate to drive the sickness away.

All her threats of violence from earlier in night manifested in her mind, but with herself as the target. Her mind was filled with images of her own body being brutalized as she came, hips bucking against her hand. The final image that drove her over the edge was the realization that she still had traces of sperm inside her.

She was catching her breath when a hot drip of spittle landed on the back of her neck, followed by a menacing hiss from above.

She looked up to see glowing eyes set in a hulking shadowy form.

The beast swiped and she dove out of the way, but her hand was caught in her underwear, driving her to a panic as she fumbled for her weapon. Before she could ready herself its claws took a chunk out of her shoulder.

Bleeding, she stumbled into the street to make her stand. The creature followed her, salivating.

She recognized this particular breed of monster, and had killed it before. But last time she’d caught it by surprise. Fighting it fair was a different matter, especially with her shoulder already wounded. Even holding her saw up was making her arm throb.

After one pitiful swing she gave up and turned to flee. There was no winning this fight. But she’d barely made it to the street when the creature pounced, hitting her square it the back and knocking her to the ground.

As she was crawling away, she took another claw swipe to the lower back, flipping her over.

All she could do was writhe in pain, easy pickings. Its jaws locked on her ankle and pulled her into a reverse mount.

For all the blood it had drawn, it was not interested in the kill. It only wanted to play with its quarry, licking and biting and nipping at her legs, dragging teeth across her bare skin.

Naturally it wanted to play with her in more ways than one.

In her struggles she found herself with a faceful of stinking bestial cock, growing harder by the second.

Trying to push the creature away and all she could grab was coiled muscle that refused to yield, all while the cock became more insistent.

Teeth sank into her flesh. Another deep bite on her thigh as the cock rubbed across her face, looking for a hole. The beast was trying to penetrate her in every way possible.

She prayed for another rescue from Etcetera, but this was too far from her hunting grounds. She was on her own.

She turned her head away to avoid the slimy phallus, but that was an invitation to jam it into her ear. All it was looking for was a hole, it didn’t matter if it was accommodating or not.

It was far too big to fit, though that didn’t stop the beast from trying to brain-fuck her.

She moaned and wailed as she felt it press in. She got a hand around it, but the shaft was too slimy and slick to get a grip.

After a few painful jabs, she did finally manage to dislodge it, but in her flailing struggles the cock jabbed her in the eye.

She covered her face as much as possible, but the stinking cock was staining her with filth and slime, occasionally slipping through to poke her in the face.

The hardest bite yet sunk into her foot, eliciting a pained scream. And that scream finally gave it a suitable target. The disgusting cock plunged into her mouth, turning her scream into a gurgle.

She gagged and coughed up a spray of spittle while the beast put all its weight into driving it deep, ruining her throat.

The creature ripped away the last shreds of her underwear, turning her lower half into a bloody, naked chew toy.

When it came, she was reduced to a helpless rag doll, throat bulging with the first deluge.

She managed one deep gulp but the rest of the flood backed up. Streams of it shot from her nose before the rest overflowed from her lips. Rancid, thick beast cum soiled her face and hair.

After it was finished with her, it left her as a bloodied, chewed up, cum-soiled mess twitching and shivering in the road.

If it had the decency to kill her, she would have gotten a reset instead of having to live with the pain of her collection of animal bites.

She gradually got to her feet, struck once by a thought as she was on all fours of the creature returning and fucking her again. It was a thought that made her swallow the leftover slime in her mouth.

She rushed home as fast as her bloodied legs would allow.

———

No one was present at the villa to welcome her home as she stumbled through the door, bleeding and tattered.

She couldn’t remember a time it had ever been so eerily quiet in here. Usually there was some distant white noise of the maid working in the kitchen.

Or a dog clawing at her door.

She’d been ordering the maid to banish that dog for so long that she hadn’t noticed that it was finally gone for real. Did the maid finally listen to her?

Maybe she shouldn’t have been so mean. At least she would have still had a pet in this big, empty building.

And when she slept in her bed, naked and pristine, no one would be around to hear as the beast crawled into bed with her, mounted her, fucked her.

Miranda snapped out of the fantasy and punched herself in the thigh, directly on a fresh bite to banish the corrupted thoughts.

It was happening again.

After shouting for assistance that never came, she fumed and went to clean up.

Stripping out of her ruined clothes to assess the damage. Most of the cuts had already stopped bleeding, but they still pulsed painfully, surrounded by vicious bruising.

The longer she spent dabbing at her cuts and bites, the more annoyed she got that she had to do this herself.

She’d been subject all sorts of maulings and assaults, but at least afterward there was someone around to take care of her and show her a shred of luxury.

Miranda had never bothered to find out how the maid acquired hot water, so after fumbling with the pipes to no avail, she was forced to take a cold bath. Shivering and cursing as she tried to rinse the filthy taste from her mouth. The stench from her hair.

Even the process of picking a new outfit brought on new annoyances. Everything she actually wanted to wear constricted her growing belly. It was just uncomfortable enough to remind her of her situation. And every outfit that wasn’t appropriately slutty looked wrong on her. Felt wrong.

Her frustration broke and she stomped out of the house to go get her slave back.

———

As she entered the clinic, Miranda was momentarily taken aback by the intimate scene before her.

The dweller was laid out on the exam table, half-dressed as the doctor trailed a device over her bare skin. Quick shocks sent the dweller into pleasured convulsions.

“Doesn’t it already feel better after only one treatment?”

“Y-yes…”

“How about we give you another injection?” She leaned in to whisper. “Shall I get the dirty needles this time?”

The dwellers face flushed with arousal, biting and sucking her fingers when she finally noticed Miranda watching them.

The dweller scrambled to cover herself.

The doctor smiled and tossed away the instrument. “Well, you look chewed up and spit out. How was your night? Rough set of customers?”

Miranda fiddled with the bandages around her hand. “No. For your information I’ve been very busy killing and murdering and creating rivers of blood. Can I have my slave back now?”

“Slave? Oh my.” The doctor reached for her tools to ready the next injection. “Miss Herasine is my patient now and I’m certainly not done with her yet.”

Miranda’s hands tightened into fists to match the constricting phantom collar around her neck. “You already took one slave from me, you can’t have this one too.”

“Oh I’ll take what I want from you and more.” She flicked the hypodermic and gave tiny squirt of liquid. “It’s only fair for all the work I do cleaning you up and enabling your slutty excursions.”

Herasine was ashamed during the exchange but did nothing to remove herself from Isobel’s grasp. And when she was instructed, she raised her dress to expose her thigh.

The doctor licked her skin before jabbing her with the needle, then gave Miranda a wicked glance.

The injection was fact-acting and it only took moments for the dweller’s eyes to cloud over.

While Miranda watched, Herasine suffered through an onslaught of spasms and aftershocks, the outside world no longer existing to her.

“See? Look how much fun she’s having.”

“Aren’t you done yet? I need her.”

“I’m sure you do.” Isobel shoved a pill the dweller’s mouth and she swallowed it automatically. “In between treatments we were wondering how much semen you swallowed tonight.”

Miranda summoned her strength. If she wanted to break the last traces of the collar’s influence, it had to be now.

“Enough. We’re leaving. Now.”

Herasine snapped out of her drugged stupor, but did not move.

“Is that so?” Some line had been crossed and the doctor’s good humor vanished.

Miranda gulped and cleared her throat. “I… yes.”

“Why do you need her? Is this what you want?” She reached into the dweller’s dress to molest her. Herasine obediently arched her back and accepted the treatment. “I think we all have to admit that she’s much more use to me as a test subject than she is as your plaything.” She gave Herasine a sharp squeeze. “And I am starting to feel rather offended that you are pretending you hold any authority here in my clinic.”

Miranda stood firm but the words dried up in her throat.

The doctor released the dweller and took step toward Miranda. “Let’s correct this behavior of yours.” She smirked as she began working her mouth, summoning up her spit.

She spat the glob onto the floor in front of Miranda. The maid appeared from nowhere, intent on cleaning it, but the doctor stopped her in her tracks. “No, not this time.”

The maid bowed and quickly left again to whatever closet she’d been stored in during this exchange.

When she was gone, the doctor turned back to Miranda. “You, clean it up. Let’s prove that you’re the only slave here.”

“What?” The puddle of fresh spit held a sudden gravity over her, proving that this was a losing battle. Nothing good would come from trying to challenge the doctor here.

When she tried to turn and leave, her throat constricted and froze her in place.

Herasine looked on with worry as her beloved keeper turned into a quivering mess.

One more look from the doctor and Miranda collapsed to the floor on her hands and knees. She sniffled, determined not to weep at her helplessness.

“Do it, slut.”

Miranda screwed her eyes closed and began lapping it up from the floor.

“Look at that face. She loves it.”

When the doctor spat another wad of saliva, Miranda slurped it up without further instruction. Dragging her tongue across the floor until she’d gotten every trace of it.

“You too.” The doctor nudged the dweller. “Give her something else to clean up.”

Herasine was suffering intense embarrassment, for herself and for her beloved owner as she worked her mouth full of spittle. Not so embarrassed that she wouldn’t obey.

Her aim was off and the glob landed directly on Miranda’s face.

“Ooh, interesting. That’s a good look for her.” The doctor fetched her cigarette case. “Sit like that for a spell and soak it in.”

Miranda remained on the floor, eyes down and face burning with shame as her own slave’s spit dripped from her face.

Herasine sat on the exam table awkwardly, waiting for some signal that the embarrassing display was over.

But they were all forced to marinate in the uncomfortable atmosphere as the doctor lazily went through the process of lighting her cigarette.

She blew smoke rings at Miranda and Herasine in turn, considering how to cap the night.

“Open.”

Miranda stretched her mouth wide for a glob of ash to be deposited on her tongue.

The doctor took an especially deep drag and sent the smoke swirling toward the ceiling.

“Herasine, I have a task for you.” She stamped out her cigarette. “Go fetch the good Lady’s cock.”

The dweller nodded and rushed out the door, averting her eyes from Miranda.

“What are-”

“No talking.” The doctor stamped on Miranda’s hand to silence her. “Really now, at some point you have to learn that you are a lab rat. You should be grateful for every moment I don’t decide to put you out of your misery. I’ve removed stronger hunters than you.”

Miranda didn’t doubt that at all.

She extended her foot to Miranda. “Here. Give my shoes a cleaning. It’s a better use of that mouth of yours.”

When the dweller returned with the strap-on, she was cradling it in her hands like an artifact.

The sight of Miranda licking the doctor’s shoe was another blow to her adoration. Not just licking but absolutely bathing it with her tongue.

The doctor motioned her over and the dweller delivered the strap-on.

“This is what she’s been fucking you with?” She turned it over in her hands. “Rather hefty.”

Miranda gave her a death glare, but said nothing.

The doctor handed it back to the dweller. “Put it on.” Then she pointed at Miranda. “And you. Strip.”

They were both stunned by the instructions, but it didn’t take long for them to begin moving.

The dress hit the floor and the doctor’s eyes widened when she saw the extent of Miranda’s wounds. “Mercy. What a rough night you’ve had.

Miranda grumbled and said nothing, reaching down to pull off her underwear.

As she stood wearing the apparatus, Herasine was suffering a full body blush, overwhelmed. The doctor appeared behind her and wrapped her arms around the dweller’s waist.

Herasine shivered in the doctor’s embrace.

“What a dirty trick she pulled on you, pretending to be a big, strong, dominant woman when she’s really nothing more than a cock-thirsty whore.” The doctor gave the cock a stroke as she whispered in the dweller’s ear. “You know what you have to do now, don’t you?”

Miranda was seized by panic as the dweller drew close but couldn’t move from her spot on the floor, as surely as if her hands and knees had been glued there.

The dweller touched Miranda’s hips with the care of approaching a burning stove.

The head of the cock teased Miranda’s pussy and she let out a worried gasp.

“I’m sorry.” She began to press inside slowly, but the doctor stopped her.

“No, not there.” She guided it to Miranda’s ass. “It’s not a real lesson unless it hurts.”

Miranda clenched her teeth to withstand the pain of it suddenly being forced inside. Each push drove it deeper.

The doctor was dripping dirty talk into the dweller’s ear, encouraging each thrust. Encouraging her to move faster, harder.

The pain was horrendous.

The doctor had personally rewired her body, so she knew exactly what she was doing to Miranda. While the deep thrusting and violation was eliciting an unwanted pleasure, the intense sensitivity was making it hurt far more than Miranda could manage.

Miranda let out a wailing moan, as much for the searing pain as for the explosive orgasm she was forced to experience.

“Wow, cumming from being ass raped. Disgusting.”

Miranda tried to deny it but was cut off by a deep thrust that drove hard into her guts.

Between the doctor’s treatments and the intense taboo of the situation, the dweller’s mind finally broke. She leaned all her weight into the act and drilled into Miranda’s ass with a sudden fervor.

And Miranda, for her part, lost the ability to withstand the pain, breaking into a pathetic weeping.

While Miranda sobbed, the dweller grabbed her by the hips and drive it deep. Even ignoring the way Miranda pleaded for her to stop.

The doctor watched the result of her body mods with a serene look on her face, sipping from a cup of tea freshly delivered by the maid.

The dynamic-breaking rape continued until the dweller had exhausted herself and Miranda was a whimpering sack of flesh.

One last deep pump and the dweller finally pulled out, collapsing on the floor, sweating and panting.

Miranda still had tears dripping down her face as she crawled to the dweller and began sucking her own fouled cock.

“Wow, didn’t even have to tell her to do that.” The doctor finished her tea and set the cup aside. “She must do that with all her customers.”

The sight of her deepthroating it shattered any remaining particle of worship in the dweller’s mind. She had not been trained for this.

“All right, that’s enough. You’re dismissed. I have more work to do on my new patient.” She motioned at the strap-on. “And I think we’ll hold onto this for you.”

When she was able to stand, Miranda gathered her clothes and ran from the clinic.

———

After another miserable cold bath, Miranda fumed and gnawed on her thumb as she paced angrily through the villa. In one fell swoop she’d lost her new slave and her cock.

There were other toys among her inherited collection but that one was hers.

There wasn’t any doubt left about the power the doctor held over her. She was lucky she got away with with only one brutal buttfuck.

If she wasn’t able to touch the doctor and the creatures were too tough, then she had to work out her rage on one of the many other people who deserved it.

She grabbed her gear and stomped her way directly to the weaponsmith’s tower.

She fought down her anger so she could knock on his door as normally as possible. He didn’t need forewarning that she was looking to start a blood rampage.

After the third knock, he leaned out of the tower window and his eyes opened wide in surprise when he saw Miranda. “Oh… How’s it going?”

“How the fuck do you think it’s going?”

The last time they’d laid eyes on one another, he was in the process of selling her as cattle. He clearly didn’t expect her to return from that particular transaction.

“Do you… need anything?”

She took in a deep breath to steady herself, forcing her sneer to look like a normal smile. “I just want to come up.”

“Are you mad at me? You seem mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“It’s hard to read sarcasm from up here, but you seem very mad.”

“I’m not mad so open the fucking door!”

He was certainly not convinced by this outburst. “In my defense, you were very easy to trick.”

She let out a blood-boiling battle scream and attempted to kick in his door.

When the door wouldn’t give she gave in to instinct and leapt at the wall, climbing it like a spider.

“Hey, stop that!”

Each step was a struggle, grabbing each handhold for dear life as she scaled the side of the tower. But spite and hate spurned her on, even through the pain of her sore ass and collection of animal bites.

“If you don’t stop that… Aw, hell.” He retreated from the window as Miranda growled and hissed with each ascent.

Near the top, her foot slipped and it took several tries to find a stone she could use as a step. And when she looked back up, the weaponsmith had returned. She barely recognized what he was holding as a rifle before he fired and committed her to oblivion.

She woke in the garden, head hollowed out and her body aching from a fall she couldn’t remember. Skin burning where teeth marks had been moments ago.

Her return from death afforded her a brief moment of reflection before the rage returned and she sprinted out the door, still shaking off flower petals.

By the time she made it back to the tower, she had gone fully feral.

She leapt at the wall for another attempt but she slipped off, the wall now too slick with her own phantom blood.

“Well you’re definitely mad now.” The weaponsmith shouldered his rifle as he watched her. “What do you hope to accomplish? I’ve got all the ammo in the world up here.”

She screamed and began hacking at the base of the tower, attempting to chop it down. But by the time she doubled over from exhaustion, all she’d managed was a chipped, dull weapon and a series of scratches on the stone of his tower. It was a long way from toppling.

The stones at her feet exploded, shattered by a warning shot from above. “Don’t make me put you down again.”

She gave the tower one last frustrated kick and stormed off.

Her belly was giving her grief as she wandered through the streets, larger than she remembered it being earlier in the night.

At this rate she’d lose her ability to go on these murder expeditions. And then what? Wait at the villa for whatever was growing inside her to come out?

No, she had a way out and she needed to take it immediately.

She stumbled her way to the edge of the district that Etcetera had pointed out.

Ahead of her, the road crumbled, torn apart by dark trees. And beyond there the lands that the swamp had claimed. And somewhere at the end of that swamp was a solution to her problems. Or so Etcetera claimed.

She hadn’t seemed too sure herself, but it was better than waiting around.

While she was staring down the avenue and considering charging ahead, the wind changed and the scent of rot and poison returned stronger than before.

The smell of it upset her stomach. If she ventured into it now, she might vomit.

She held her breath and summoned the will to march in there, but even the thought of trudging through that poison curdled her resolve.

After some deliberation, she backed away from the avenue and the sight of the swamp’s edge. This would take some more preparation. But only a little. Something to settle her stomach and she could power through. Maybe a bite to eat and she could really do it this time.

She sat down on an abandoned stoop to regain her composure, cursing the parasite inside her.

After a long period of deep breathing and some comforting thoughts of bloody revenge, she had settled enough to consider her approach.

Getting supplies was a nice idea, but where would she buy them and what would even prepare her for trudging through poison.

Her hunting saw was a poor sight. Some mechanism in the weapon had broken and it would no longer fold. And she couldn’t remember what had happened to her pistol.

It wasn’t ideal, but she’d just burned bridges with the one person she could count on for a fresh weapon. She would have to make do. After all, even a dull weapon will cut a throat if you press hard enough.

The rest would have to rely on her own determination.

Her thoughts stopped as she became aware of the sudden unnerving silence surrounding her.

Miranda held still and searched the shadows, a cold sweat taking hold of her. Hearing nothing but her own strained breathing.

Eventually she held her breath, but the sound of breathing didn’t stop.

She turned slowly and in the darkness her eyes finally picked out a huge, looming shape.

It moved to her in a single, impossibly huge step.

Her last scream for help was muffled by a sack being pulled over her face and tightened around her neck with a cord of rope.

As she clawed at the rope strangling her, she was knocked to the ground. Ankles together and bound with another cord of rough rope. Tied and knotted with an expert efficiency.

Then she was flipped over, arms pulled back painfully and tied at the wrists.

Her struggles were reduced to the flopping of a dying fish. Crying out feebly as her body was folded up and fed into a larger sack. Packed in tight and hefted up over the huge man’s shoulder.

Quick as that and he was off to deliver her to lands unknown.