The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Janet?”

“Yes?”

“You are aware we’re in this buggery because you refused Anchoring, right?”

“If you want to play the blame game, I think the psycho dictator is pretty well ahead of me.”

“...Yeah, I know. I know.”

“Shut up, you whores!”

They complied to the ogre’s bark. After all, mere instants after Ryûjin had ordered their capture, and before they could even react, one of the loyal female Changelings had wrapped them up in etheral chains. Nothing much was to be done at this point, except pray it was some kind of fluke. After all, why the fuck would Ryûjin care about them?

Upon embarking on the Sekigahara, they were blindfolded and unceremoniously pushed around. After several minutes going up stairs and turning around and around, it was made clear their captors were deliberately trying to get them lost in the gigantic castle. Janet burned to taunt the guards for how useless this move was—it wasn’t like she had a map of a frigging Japanese castle on the sea—but decided to keep her sassiness for the main asshole.

“You can untie them.”

The blindfold and magical restraints came off, and the two women saw themselves in exactly the kind of trouble they were expecting. Ryûjin sitting on a throne, a mocking, triumphant look on his face, and a whole bunch of bodyguard Changelings unlikely to consider defecting anytime soon.

Lilith looked up to the tall, commanding man.

“My apologies if we offended you, Sir...” She nervously began to say. “We had no intention of breaking any...”

“Oh, shut up.”

So she did. His voice made it clear—he wouldn’t be taking any shit tonight.

“Just tell me what the fuck she’s up to and we’ll skip straight to drowning you in sex, okay?”

“What do you mean, Sir? I work for the Governor of Bunker Hill and my companion is here on her own vol...”

“Seriously?” Interrupted the archmage. “Se. Rious. Ly? Cut the crap, bitches, you’ve got the Aspect of Lust’s scent all over you!”

Janet and Lilith arrived at the same simultaneous conclusion. Namely :

“

...Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.” Dryly echoed Ryûjin. “Now, if you didn’t notice, I’m not at the best of my composure today, so do spill the beans before I gore you.”

Janet cleared her throat, and whipped out her professional tone, sprinkled with some strategic pandering.

“I understand what has happened here. I am a secret service agent and only got into the Dreamscape tonight. I unfortunately drew the attention of the slut-in-chief, but fortunately misdirected her long enough to be saved by Lilith’s boss. I imagine I must bear some residue of her presence.”

“Hmpf. Yeah, you might say that. What about the jailbait?”

“Lilith? Hmm...”

She turned to the fake Brit. Now that she thought about it, she did remember the Aspect talking to her, and on a pretty familiar basis at that...Somehow, it had escaped her mind, but it was clearly about to resurface now. Not that Lilith seemed thrilled about it. Yet, she had no choice. After a deep sigh, she groaned...

“I knew her before the Nightmare, alright? She changed into the Aspect in under a week, and I tried to get her sanity back. Didn’t quite pan out. In fact, she started turning me instead. Wanted me to become her fellow Aspect. Master saved me before she could fully pull me in.”

Janet turned away, pondering. That certainly explained why she was Griffith’s only apprentice. The Aspect’s former friend sure seemed like a convenient thing to have around. Unfortunately...

“I see.” Commented Ryûjin. “Okay, so, good news, girls! I believe you. Bad news, you’re more useful to me enslaved. KENTARO!”

Our heroines gulp. “I knew it.” Groaned Janet under her breath. A man with glowing white eyes and dark blue skin standing in stark contrast to his immaculate white coat steps forward from the line of bodyguards.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Not sure what I’m going to do with the black one, but the blonde’s already halfway subdued. Finish the job. Oh and put some meat on her, for fuck’s sake, you know how obsessive the Americans are with the age of consent.”

“By your will, my Lord.”

“No! Y...Lord Ryûjin, please reconsider! You are challenging the Anchored!”

“So what? Like I’m going to give a shit about what a crazy space cult thinks. Consider yourself lucky we need your memories. You’ll just be lovely and unable to resist the masculine mystique. Isn’t that what you want?”

Lilith hangs her head down as the Japanese Lord chuckles, and the labcoat guy orders the Changelings to carry her out. Shit, shit shit! Thinks Janet. There has to be a way out of this mess!

But as she tries to focus, she sees the white-haired dictator step down his throne and walk right past her.

“I’ve got some other business that needs a good fisting. Bring the black one to my apartments in the meantime. Just make sure she doesn’t get cute. Well, not before I get here.”

Yeah, this story is getting towards loathsome in a hurry, isn’t it? On the grand scheme of things, it pains me to report that Ryûjin will remain a major presence in Lost Angels. For the scope of this story, however...well, Janet has already proven herself crafty, hasn’t she?

For all the madness and suffering it brought, Nightmare tends to be a very fluid world, full of opportunities and escape routes. That lends to interesting situations, sometimes. Not to mention the “interesting” ones. Man, I have just so many...

Oh shit. The loud impact sound is back. It...

It’s getting closer. Bang. Bang. BANG. Like that. Everything’s shaking. It’s close. Shit. Shit! I tug on my restraints once more. No use. Come on, Drac, what if the cave or whatever’s coming crashing down on you? You gotta...

It happens in a split second. There’s one last crash, and then a flash of light.

“Aargh!”

Shit, it burns! My arms try to fly in front of my eyes to protect them, but they’re stuck, and I’m left with frowning as much as I can to block the searing rays. Real light...When I was visiting my own dreams, before I resolved to start telling you the Lost Angels story, light never burned. So I guess...This is the real world? Is all of this just a dream of mine after all?

“Heellooo?” I try to cry for help again, still blinded. “I’m stuck here, can anyone hear me?!”

“Yes, I can hear you!”

...Oh thank God. A powerful male voice, somewhere above me.

“Help me, I’ve been restrained to something!”

“I see you! Hold on!”

A few seconds later, I hear the sound of things being ripped apart. My bindings become loose, and I tug, managing to shake the one ensnaring my right arm loose. I’m helped by the unseen man, and soon, I am free! Drunk on my newfound freedom, I get up...and my knees buckle, weakened by days of near-total immobility. I fall down, and roll down the mound I was restrained on.

“Argh! SHIT!” I swear, wincing as I wriggle on the hard floor.

“Miss! Are you alright?!”

“It’s better than being chained to something, yeah, but my fucking everything hurts!”

“Take a moment to recover, Miss...You’ve been prisoner here for a long time.”

The voice is calm, warm, and talks English okay but with a clear French accent. I roll down on my back, groaning from the pain. I try to open my eyes, but it’s no use.

“Yeah...I don’t even know where this is but I feel like the man in the Iron Mask over here.”

“You’re in the Queen’s Reverie. Me and my friends have been trying to break into the castle for some time now, but we never suspected we’d find a Normal. Were you harmed?”

Oh, no...As I suspected. I’m in the Dreamscape. Goddamit. I knew this was real but...hearing one of my victims say it...

“No. Just kept prisoner. Are you...an Anchored?”

“Yes! I’m Frédéric. We came from Genève. Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the Haven.”

“Thank God. This place was driving me crazy.”

Yes...maybe if I go out into the light, I can get distracted away from all those nightmares. My eyes slowly get readjusted to the light. So, all this time, I was in some sort of high-ceiling room made of stone...And on the floor, a small grazzy hill with lots of vines. Up in the ceiling, the sun shines through a hole my savior punched open. I look at him, and see...

“...A superhero?”

He’s wearing a colorful yellow suit with a half-mask and a blue cape. He looks like generic superhero #18. Lame, but in the Dreamscape, pretending to be Batman is probably the worst idea.

“Ha ha, ouais...” Answers Frédéric, embarassed. “Spandex costumes aren’t exactly normal for the Anchored Reckoning squads, but hey, who’s going to mind if I have a little fun?”

“Right. Knock yourself out.”

“Do you feel better? I don’t know what else is in this castle, we should probably go.”

“Probably, yeah.”

He picks me up effortlessly, bends his knees, and jumps.

“Woooaaah!”

That was a long-ass jump! He went right into the hole in the ceiling. Anchored are capable of tricks like that. Now we’re in a gothic hallway. Okay, that’s definitely not the Edelweiss hotel. Being Nightmare’s ground zero turned it into some sort of vampire castle. Great. Love these.

And at the end of the hallway, another hole in the wall. Several dudes, not clad like clowns mind you, are levitating, obviously waiting for Fred to extract me. Behind them, I can recognize Lake Annecy, somewhat. This is the Dreamscape. This is what my sick mind has wrought...At last, I’ll see it with my own e...

“I’ll ssssave you, your Majesssty...”

Before we can react, a flurry of threads coming from every direction pull the Anchored’s and my limbs apart.

“Bordel de merde!” Swears the superhero, before shouting to the others outside.

They all begin to fly towards us, but a web forms over the hole in a split second. They try to get through, to no avail. I look around, trying to spot who is doing this, but...There’s nothing but shadows. A goddamn horror castle sprouted around me and now there are monsters? This really just keeps getting better.

“And now...” Threatens the female voice, “You DIE!”

I don’t even have the time to think “shit” that I hear my savior howl in pain.

“What? What’s happen...”

“AaaaaaAAAh! GYAAAaaRRGH! HEEELL...”

He...

He...Was...ripped...Oh my...God...ripped...apart.

“Oh my God oh my God oh my God...”

The threads let me go, and I fall on the floor like a ragdoll. A bloody chunk touches my left foot and I kick it away in a miserable whimper. Outside, I hear a loud buzz. A swarm? I don’t know. Like I’m fucking looking away from...that!

But there are screams. Oh yes. Screams that make my skin crawl. They came to save me. They’re all dying.

I’m a blight.

Janet spent the following hour lying naked on a futon in the dictator’s room. It was very Japanese style, to the point where you would expect a samurai to burst into the room at any second. The warrior would then kneel and babble about Shingen Takeda’s incoming cavalry. Yet, there were some western furniture to go along the picturesque white walls and wooden beams. Things like a TV closet, a liquor cabinet, and a desk. With a computer on it.

“So there are ways to make technology viable in the Dreamscape, huh?”

The living statue watching her evidently was in no mood for a conversation. That was okay. She actually preferred her guard to be mute and barely sentient considering she was stark naked.

Okay, not naked—she was gracefully given a golden sash to cover her pelvis. Still. No wrist computer, no cantrip gun, no way out and no dignity. Her professional opinion on the situation was “Far past fucked”.

But as depressing as being confined to a bed for an hour was, it did give Janet the opportunity to come up with a plan. She wasn’t sure if it would work, and straight up had no idea how Ryûjin would react to it. Still, if she was to become a slave, she wouldn’t let it happen without trying something.

Eventually, the Japanese overlord arrived, prompting Janet to cover herself. With a snap of the finger, he dismissed the living statue, who left and closed the sliding door behind him without so much as a nod. Ryûjin then made his way to his desk, booting the desktop computer.

When that was over with, his clothes vanished into thin air, revealing a damn fine hunk of man meat. Chiseled six-pack, athletic limbs, dong majestically prodding the air. Janet couldn’t help but feel a little flushed at the sight, though that feeling was easily outmatched by the shame of being near naked in the company of such an impossibly powerful asshole. She knew it—this particular Alpha male could tear her apart with a mere thought. If it wasn’t for her training, meeting face to face to the guy able to freeze an entire fucking platoon of colossi would have been the end of her composure.

But instead of melting Janet’s insides for being associated with his nemesis, he stood in front of her, folding his arms. Unwilling to think about whatever intentions he might have had, Janet met his gaze. He did not seem to take offense, or indeed care at all. They spent a few moments staring at each other like that, when he finally broke the silence.

“Are you any good at keeping your mouth shut?”

“...I am not known for stupid phone bills, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good. This room could use a houseplant.”

He then...turned back to his computer? Not that Janet wanted to complain about that, but...they were both naked.

“Hmm...You’re not going to rape me, Sir?”

A chuckle. He swiveled his chair back toward her.

“For now, that’s ‘my Lord’ to you. Also, in your state, getting fucked would turn you into a hopeless nympho, and I like my slaves sentient enough to learn Japanese. Besides,” he smirked, “you’re a secret agent. You should be able to tell me some juicy stuff once you’re nice and obedient.”

“So you know what the Aspect did to me.”

“Obviously. It’s got the subtlelty of a Kaiju flick. Basically, you’re screwed. Every inch of you is programmed to warp into an incredibly sensitive, vegetal version of itself. Even your hair is going to grow nerve endings. Everything from a tight G-string to the wind will make you wet, and forget about wearing anything covering. You’re going to become a raging slut, whether you like it or not.”

Janet gulped. She kinda suspected it already, but...

“All I can do by this point is keep it to a manageable level. Here meaning you’ll think of fucking all the time, but not quite to the point of being Changeling meat. You’ll stay a Dreamer as long as you satisfy your needs. Best case scenario, really, is to have enough people ready to satisfy your needs every few hours. Which is why you’re going to become a slave here at the Sekigahara, and with a smile to boot.”

Janet clenched her fists. No way. No fucking way this was ending here.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” He says, grinning like a fucking snake. “We pride ourselves for our sex slave variety here, and it just so happens that some clients prefer their booty at least a little autonomous. So you have a choice. Either you cling to hope or pride or whatever bullshit your condemned ass thinks it has, or you make yourself a proactive love slave for me tonight, and maybe I’ll do my best to keep your libido as manageable as possible. Oh, and, obviously, if you lift even a pinky on me I’ll make you feel like there’s hot tar in your ear, and then I’ll turn you into a mindless bimbo Changeling. Okay? Okay.”

And with that, he sat in front of the computer screen and started reading reports. Well. He was still a slaving shithead, but at least he was more level-headed than on the beach. Every possible instinct Janet had told her to escape, or at least stay put. But as much as it revolted her, she knew that this crazy powerful body-shaper was her best shot at resisting Orchid. Her plan up until now was getting to the outside world and hoping it would dissipate the vegetable slut, which was too hypothetical for her tastes.

Not to mention, of course, that trying to escape would get her turned into a bimbo Changeling. Up until now, she had pictured Orchid as herself, with a strong bark body and leaves all over, but a new picture of a giggling green plant with shocking pink petals seemed more likely if she attempted to resist Ryûjin. If there was a way out of this, it wasn’t anything dignified.

“Sorry, Shane.” She whispered. “I love you.”

She got up, and walked to the tyrant.

“Might I massage your shoulders, my Lord?”

“Ah, I thought you might be the type to do whatever it takes. I like it! You may, slave.”

Restraining her own sense of pride, the operative started her demeaning dask. Softly, and without a word, she did her best to relieve the dictator. A relaxed Ryûjin would no doubt be more receptive to her plan. Her eyes drifted away from his silver mane and to the liquor cabinet to her left. Hmm...

“Do you wish something to drink, my Lord?”

“Why not. A glass of Hibiki. No ice.”

Without so much as a bow—let’s not push it—Janet went to the cabinet and looked for said bottle of Japanese whiskey. She had no idea they made this kind of thing, but hey. Trying very carefully to not sound sarcastic, she gave Ryûjin his glass. He took it. And stared at her.

Silence ensued. Janet felt cold sweat run along her back. Was avoiding courtesies a mistake? Until now, everything she knew about this guy hinted his schedule to be stuck at “torture o’clock”. Sure, she wasn’t rebelling, but she knew some slaves throughout history caught shit for so much as a wrong gesture or inflexion, and no rich plantation owner had the convenient power to effortlessly drown their victims alive.

Fortunately, he simply let out a nonplussed chuckle.

“Heh. You’ll have to work pretty hard on your manners, but I can appreciate a girl dealing with enslavement on her own terms. All right. Undress completely, so I can work better.”

She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a reward or not, but knew she needed him to placate the Aspect’s spell. She had to be careful not to seem too eager, though. She could really do with less enslavement in her life.

He takes a sip, examining her body, mumbling words she couldn’t understand. Then, with a smack of the glass of the table, he lets out a pensive moan.

“Let’s see...I’m thinking exotic dancer with lots of backstage performances. Pretty intense but at least your work is limited to parties.”

“Huh...I don’t think that...”

Suddenly, Janet feels her lips snap shut.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Don’t fuck up after such a good start...Know what? I’ll spare you the risk of getting punished during your re-education. Soon as we done here, you go through indoctrination. Oh you’ll like it—it’s how promising and/or useful slaves like you are prevented from slipping up and earning a beating. Your vampire friend should be just about done with it right now. Then it’s dancer conversion. Kentaro has a nice Cantrip for that. A music box kind of thing—listen to it for an hour and you’ll have completely forgotten how to walk without dancing sexily. This type of slave is a delight to watch, as you can imagine.”

She preferred not to. Shit...that asshole was on a roll. She had to distract him somehow. Talk to him before he sent her to whatever bullshit that “indoctrination” was.

“Which brings me to your cure. I’ll do it, don’t worry about that. As I said, there’s no avoiding you becoming a slut under the influence of your future body, but it will prevent it from becoming debilitating. Still, I have to do...other modifications. You’re fine, but not exactly Sekigahara material...Until right about now.”

Janet barely had the time to think “Oh, Hell no” before he snapped his fingers. She immediately felt her body burning up. Not in pain, not really in pleasure easier...Strain would be the most accurate term. She simply felt pressure everywhere, but especially in the chest and pelvic area. In that moment, she was kinda glad for her lips being sealed, because otherwise, she would have unleashed the verbal fury on his ass. Satisfying? Certainly. Wise? Perhaps not.

After a while, the strain went away, and she opened her eyes. Unsurprised, but disgusted nonetheless, she saw that her breasts had ballooned to an hollywoodian double D. Her muscles had been toned down, replaced by a Playboy-worthy hourglass figure.

“Oh yeah, that’s better. I limited your programmed mutation as much as I could, but obviously I had to give you a better package. It suits you.” Grinned the Japanese asshole. “Don’t you think so?”

She didn’t. At all. This wasn’t a body, this was a way to give up every kind of athletic prowess without even enjoying daily pizza. Yet the clock was ticking. He’d soon send her to indoctrination and all would be lost. She had to get through to him. Now.

So she did her best to pretend her answer was yes. And also that he was black. And not an asshole. Lots of pretending here.

“Hmm hmm...” She moaned, doing her best impression of a skank.

“Ha ha, you are a slutty one, secret agent girl, you know that?”

“Hmmm...”

“What, do you want to thank me in person? Alright...”

She felt her lips untangle. Sadly, there weren’t thirty-six possibilites as to what he had in mind.

“I do, my Lord.”

She strutted forth, trying to ignore the teats weighing heavily on her chest, and sat on his lap. Satisfied with Janet’s attitude, the tyrant playfully slapped her ass. Repressing another urge to reclaim her pride, the operative leaned forward and gave him a slow yet passionate kiss, grinding her breasts against his burly chest. His lips had a slight metallic taste to them, somehow, but they were surprisingly gentle.

They broke the kiss after a dozen seconds, and Ryûjin just looked into her eyes, patronizingly caressing her hair. Now! Janet thought. Operation Cockblock is a go!

“You know, my Lord, maybe I could be of more use to you as a secret agent...”

“Ha!” He mocked, though more endearingly than angrily. “I mean, sure, a slut might ultimately be able to spy pretty well, but I’ve got Dreamshaping experts on my team. What do you think your real-world expertise is bringing to the table?”

“I could surprise you...For instance...” Janet whispered to his hear as she was caressing his chest. “Do you have an ogre named Daruma in your, hum, stable?”

“Maybe.”

He took the whiskey glass back into his hand, his face impassible. Clearly, he wasn’t about to let her cold read him. Well, time to press her luck. It was a long shot anyway.

“Four arms, skin crackling like lava?”

“Yes. So you met him on your way here. What of him?”

“Well, you see, my Lord, I sensed...something. It was just a lingering scent but...it was the aspect of Lust.”

Immediately, his tone went several notches past composed.

“What.”

“He’s got some bad friends, hasn’t he? A gang of bikers? Anybody could tell they’re a bad influence.”

“...What the fuck?” He snarled, looking at the wall. “I had those Changeling-loving assholes banned from Santa Monica months ago. Don’t tell me...”

“Oh yes, Daruma was outside your town, my Lord.”

The glass shattered in his hands, startling Janet. The wet glass shards fell on the floor, somehow leaving his hands completely intact.

“Okay. Coincidence, but I always appreciate a good denunciation.”

He shoved her aside, but it was obvious she wasn’t the subject of his wrath. Exactly the reaction what Janet hoped for. Having all but forgotten about enslaving her, he went straight to the door and barked orders at the statue in Japanese. He then closed the door and paced nervously around the room, ruminating. More than a simple act of dealing with the enemy elicited, really...There definitely was something unusual going on. What was it? It definitely had something to do with the Changelings’ unrest. But he had quelled it, and yet his furious mumbling meant the issue was still ongoing.

But while he looked poised to strangle something to death just to calm his nerves, it was his appearance that got Janet’s nerves on high tension. Indeed, his completely normal body began to change. Well, not so much change as breaking apart. Pieces, just small, sharp slivers, floated off his flesh, revealing a shiny metallic interior. Janet gulped. That was easily the most fucked up Dream form she had seen yet.

Tactically speaking, it was best for Janet to lay low and hope for him to throw her into some kind of jail cell while he sorted it out. She was confident she could at least Dreamshape her way out of a prison now that Ryûjin wasn’t focused on her. Yet...something told her she had a hand to play. Something he said when she suggested becoming his agent...

“My Lord?”

“What is it?!”

“If I may...While you were pacifying the ogres on the beach, I sensed a very faint presence.”

He stopped pacing and stared at her in disbelief. The blades stopped hovering and quickly got back into his body. Janet caught herself just in time to prevent an idiotic, triumphant grin. She knew that strange occurence was the key to his bad temper somehow.

“What kind of presence?”

“Calm, unimpressed...It was extremely faint, but that composure stood out enough for me to pick up on it, I gu...”

“And when did you get into the Dreamscape again?”

“A few hours ago.”

The tyrant put his arms akimbo and sighed.

“Yare yare...”

He then knelt down to retrieve Janet’s discarded golden sash, Dreamshaped it to make it bigger, then threw it it to her. She snatched it in midair and covered herself in a hurry.

“I believe we got off the wrong foot here.” Smiled the white-haired asshole, talking as if it was just a dumb misunderstanding. “Granted, I had several excellent reasons to assume you were worthless, but What do you know. What’s your name?”

“Huh...Janet...” She almost stammered it at the realization that asshole was ready to enslave her without even knowing it.

“Good. Janet, forget God and Country. Now you’re on my payroll.”

Goddamit. Goddamit. Goddamit.

I ran to one of the castle’s bedrooms and buried myself under the blanket. I couldn’t stomach seeing those...parts still throb and bleed. The poor guy is deader than Neanderthal yet he...

This is fucked. This is so fucked. Enough of this. Why can’t I stop thinking about that hissing voice? It’s...familiar. But it can’t be. It can’t be Mindy. Mindy’s the girliest cutie I know. She can’t...

Bring me my world back...

Ponder and deliberate before you make a move, once said legendary Chinese general Sun Tzu. Janet was normally a big fan of that advice, but telling Ryûjin about that faint obfuscation on a hunch undoubtedly yielded better results that plan A. And that kinda pissed her off, because if she had simply figured out Ryûjin valued Dreamshaping prowess that much, everything would have gone way smoother. Now she really knew tales of this night would be off-limits to her grandkids.

Still, what the fuck was that presence? “All in due time”, he told her with a pat on the back, right before restablishing her original body. She certainly was grateful for having it back, as well as something to cover herself with. Still, she didn’t like the idea of working for that douche all that much. Which did not escape him. He grabbed her shoulders, then solemnly said...

“So, starting todayn I’m your boss. You’ve got some real talent so obviously you won’t be treated like a Changeling or a sex slave, but let me be crystal clear on this one. Failure is allowed. Disobedience of any kind, ANY kind, is not.”

He took a deep breath, digging his fingers in.

“I’m not stupid enough to think everything has to go smoothly all the time, but when a chess piece is being a piece of shit from the word go, I tend to come up with exciting new ways to redefine pain. Is that clear.”

The lack of inflexion made fairly clear that question accepted only one answer.

“...Yes, my Lord.”

“Good.”

He let go of her shoulders.

“If you don’t think you can trust yourself, you can always go through indoctrination.”

“No, that’ll be fine.”

“Your choice. There is something you have to go through, however.”

She had gulped.

“What is it?”

“The Aspect’s spell really is too strong for anybody to do anything about it. You’re going to warp sooner or later, and you really want it to happen in allied territory.”

Ryûjin then gave her a card with a simple room number on it. He explained this was the place where her transformation would be the most manageable. He added that he’d have things prepared for her in the interim.

And so, she was walking down the Sekigahara’s hallways, bound for the end of her humanity.

“God fucking dammit.”

The only thing that infuriated her more than their journey to the Palisades being cut off like that was the uncomfortable truth that she needed the asshole. She could feel it—he really did took the edge off Orchid. For all the subjugating he did, he, first and foremost, saved her. Well, just barely. Fucking Aspect.

She arrived at the castle’s lowest level, and her last bits of comfort bailed out in a hurry when she heard the moans. Great, she thought. The sexual slavery floor. A fitting incubator for Orchid. The cries alone revealed a cornucopia of porn scenarii. Some girls were fucked like butter churns, some were tenderly made love to by men they were forced to see as their boyfriends. Some didn’t even wait for “customers”—they went straight to...scissoring each other, apparently.

Janet was getting close to the indicated room when she saw a familiar man come out of a corner. The guy with a lab coat, glowing eyes and dark blue skin.

“Hello, agent Campbell.”

“Hello to you, huh...Kotaro?”

“Kentaro.”

“The news travel fast.”

“They do.”

What a festive and effervescent guy.

“Lord Ryûjin has told me everything. No need to fret. With the chosen method, you’ll keep control of your Dream form.”

“Awesome.” She answered with a dour face. “What’s the method?”

“It’s best if you’re not informed beforehand. Follow me.”

With a shrug, Janet complied. Soon enough, they were in front of the room. Kentaro stepped aside, inviting her to open the door. “This is it,” thought Janet. “Next time I’m in this hallway, I’ll be Orchid.” She took a deep breath, and opened.

Behind it laid a western style room, seemingly gilded age inspired. Old, fancy, glittery...kind of out of place in the Sekigahara, but hey. She stepped forward, and Kentaro ominously closed the door right behind her.

“Hmpf.”

She stepped forward and looked around. Given the sexual nature of the Aspect’s curse, she had expected somebody to be lying on the bed, yet its silky golden sheets were decidedly lonely.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

Strange. With both the room number and Kentaro’s guidance, there was pretty much no way it was the wrong pl...

“Hi Janet.”

The operative reflexively turned around to strike, but her karate chop was blocked by a thin, graceful hand. And right next to it, a cheery, pinched smile.

“Shit. Lilith?”

The vampire didn’t need to answer. I was here...well, in the general sense. She had been transformed. Instead of a wispy teenager, she was a full-grown, curvy...make that very curvy woman. She still had the same short blonde hair, but it was complimented with a diamond-incrusted headdress, which was the centerpiece of the second most dramatic change poor Lilith had gone through : her attitude.

For while she wasn’t exactly a tomboy, the dainty teenager was certainly spirited whenever Stephen Griffith wasn’t around. And now it was gone. Her casual clothing had given way to a long, flowing sequin dress, and her body language had become a Victorian era’s impression of femininity. Janet couldn’t even begin to imagine what her already archaic and self-effacing views on gender roles had devolved into.

“The Masters have informed me. You’re in good hands, dearest.”

“Mother of fuck, girl, what have they done to you?” Swore Janet, creeped out to the max.

“They completed me. Now hush...You’re going to love your conversion.”

Her eyes widening, Janet tried to back away and, if possible, get out of the state. But Lilith’s third eye had opened in a blink. The next moment, she was paralyzed. Her breath quickened, her muscles trembled, struggled to no avail. Anger, shame, fear and disgust all flooded her mind. The idea of losing her humanity was bad enough. But not like this. Not with a woman. And especially not with THIS woman.

But her transformed companion could not care less how much of a hardened heterosexual Janet was. Her mind no longer contained anything but thoughts of pleasure and obedience. Right under Janet’s terrified eyes, she bared her fangs.

“Soon, you’ll be fit to serve our Lord.”

Lilith lunged for her neck, and Janet’s world went black.