The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jerrod, Senya and Merisi stood in a triangle, each at an equal distance from the other, in the midst of a ‘chicken coop’ that contained as many plush throw pillows as feathers. Buxom women with the wings and talons of chickens lay all around, their eyes glazed over, paralyzed within the confines of a trigger with limited duration.

Aside from a few scraps of lacy lingerie worn by the hen harpies, everyone within the coop was completely naked. Somehow, that was, by far, the least awkward aspect of the standoff.

“I dunno what you mean, Boss,” Jerrod said coolly, turning away to look over the nest boxes—searching, no doubt, for something to wear that wasn’t frilly and pink. “We should prob’ly get moving. You ain’t yourself.”

“I...” Senya gritted his teeth. “... Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk to me like I’m an invalid!” Senya stomped his foot into the soft carpet, feeling his face heating up. “It’s what you’ve been doing this whole time!”

And there it was. Senya stared up at the hulking figure of Jerrod, back turned to him, and gathered all his strength together. After weeks lost to the licks and kisses and caresses of the Ambrosia Ranch, there wasn’t much. Keep it together. Keep focused. Have to keep my mind working.

“Well, how ’bout you try actin’ like an adult, then?” Jerrod snorted. “We’re just lookin’ after you, Boss.”

“Oh, yeah? You mean like not mentioning that this Ranch shouldn’t even legally exist?” Jerrod didn’t react. “Yeah, I thought so. Did Bobbin even tell you about that?”

“It’s true,” Merisi said, her eyes darting toward the exit—clearly, she was eager to leave. “The Gokuri Forest peoples never opened access to Lacratians.”

“Huh. Weird.” Jerrod leaned back against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And what am I s’posed to do about that, Boss? I’m just...”

“Doing your job?” Senya’s head tilted. “How much does this Ranch make in a year?”

“Enough to keep expenses.”

“What expenses?” Senya flung his arms wide. “The fey handle the expenses! Dryads keep the fruit fresh, we put fairies to work picking crops, the hens look after the chickens for us—what expenses, Jerrod?”

“Ugh.” Jerrod let out a hissing noise through his teeth. “Boss, now ain’t the time or the place. Why don’t we go talk this out with Bobbin?”

“And let her mindwipe me again?” Senya shook his head, almost choking on fear and anger. “How many times has she done that? Jerrod, do you really trust her?”

Jerrod’s eyes narrowed “I trust that she knows how to run this place. She’s not the one who let the wards break down, Boss.”

“How much does she pay you?”

“Aside from room and board?” Jerrod shrugged. “A little, I guess. Not as much as I bet you’d expect. We didn’t get paid in much money at Market Day.”

Senya stared hard at Jerrod, searching for a lie. And then it struck him—Jerrod didn’t need to lie. “Ha.” He gave a smile he couldn’t make un-crooked, shaking his head ruefully. “Ha! Of course. You don’t need to get paid much. Why would you? You live like a king here!”

“And you don’t, Boss?”

Senya felt Merisi’s dark eyes on him. He swallowed. “I—I didn’t want to! I didn’t want any of—I didn’t want to control anyone! But Bobbin—” He recovered himself a little, taking a step towards Jerrod. “Jerrod, this Ranch isn’t a prison. It’s a business. We’re intruding on foreign lands, we’re raping fey—”

“Half the time, they want it,” Jerrod said simply.

Senya’s blood boiled as Bobbin’s words echoed from the ex-pirate’s lips. “And the other half?” he snarled.

“If you don’t want to take advantage, you don’t have to!” Jerrod was clearly getting annoyed now. He stalked around towards the back of the coop, where several large branches were stuck between the walls for the chickens to roost on.

Merisi sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, so, uh—”

“I know I don’t,” Senya said, his voice shaking, his words coming out as distorted as his thoughts, “and maybe I never do, maybe I even make you never—a-and even Bobbin—but what about the next Master? Who deserves this kind of power?” His voice rose. “Jerrod, we’re brainwashing them! You know who else does that to their ‘undesirables’?”

Jerrod rolled his eyes, idly kicking at one of the branches until it fell out of its place. “Lemme guess: The Chosen.”

“Hey,” Merisi repeated, “listen—”

“Yeah, the Chosen!” Senya spat. “Western Plains barons! Evil fey, Jerrod! So where the fuck is the difference?” He gave a manic laugh. “And that’s another thing! Half of these fey? I-I can’t see a thing they did wrong! What could Valina have done to deserve this? And the fairies! And these harpies, for that matter!”

“That’s none of my business,” Jerrod said, his voice terse and brittle. He stooped down and broke the branch over his knee. “Boss, we’re here to do the job, and—”

“Guys!” Merisi shouted. Jerrod and Senya both fell silent.

Senya heard a faint mumbling. He froze, realizing that the hen harpies were drifting out of their frozen state, slowly getting back up to their feet. We should have had a full half-minute left! he thought, his heart pounding. The triggers... gods, everything’s falling apart.

The hen harpies were giggling. Senya started to sweat, realizing most of their eyes were on him. He exchanged a look with Jerrod, whose expression remained cool and calm—unaffected by the growing babble. Jerrod had his amulet back. Their control wouldn’t touch him anymore.

Merisi immediately went back to playing her flute, stepping between Senya and Jerrod and jerking her head furiously towards the exit. Senya felt the babble’s effects mercifully leave his mind. But he knew it was time to go. Already, hen harpies were moving behind him, blocking off the exit. Without Merisi, they would be truly trapped. At least, Senya would be.

He took a step back, looking at Jerrod plaintively. “Jerrod,” he said, his voice softer now, “you have to know this is wrong.”

“Let’s get back to the farmhouse, Boss.” Jerrod’s tone was dull. Bored, almost. But there was a definite irritation.

Senya clasped his hands together. “Jerrod, there has to be a better way, a better way than just putting all the wards and triggers and stuff back to normal. Please. We have to do the right thing. You and I—we can make this right. Get to the bottom of it. There’s something in the basement. We’re gonna go...”

He trailed off, seeing Jerrod’s tired expression.

The stockman gave a low sigh, shaking his head. “Boss... look, okay.” His voice was heavy, but there was an undertone of something else. Something Senya couldn’t remember hearing from Jerrod before. Was it... guilt?

“Boss.” Jerrod cleared his throat. “Here’s what I’ll say. Here’s the thing. I get that y—”

He swung the heavy broken branch upside Merisi’s head.

A horrible crack resonated through the coop.

Blood dripped from a cracked jaw as the bard fell backwards. The branch was broken in two. The flute slipped from hooked, trembling fingers.

It was as if Senya’s lungs had just been crushed like paper in a mill.

Merisi fell back onto the floor. The bard was wheezing, gagging, clutching at her throat, her bloodied jaw. Her eyes were wide, wild, terrified. Jerrod towered over her, hefting the remnants of the branch, his head tilted to one side.

She managed one choked scream, at perfect pitch. Her form seemed to melt down, her skin turning brown and porous, until she was the size of a large brown newt. The newt, its head still horribly bloodied, scrambled away from Jerrod. It was already morphing again, growing fur, its face twitching, forelegs stretching like taffy.

The battered bat flapped noisily out of the opening in the roof, shifting once more into a broken-beaked mockingbird as it escaped into the open. Merisi, Second-Class Bard of the Bardic Orders Postal Service, zoomed out of the coop, a thin trail of dripped blood and a broken bamboo flute the only signs she had been there at all.

Senya still couldn’t breathe. He stared at Jerrod in shock, bile rising in his throat.

The stockman hefted his makeshift club, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry, Boss,” the slaver said, sighing. “It’s nothin’ personal. It’s never personal. But a man like me’s gotta earn some kinda honest living. An’ I just haven’t got as much patience for all this.”

“A-are you...” Senya cast about for a weapon, still in a daze. It was a pathetic instinct, beneath Senya even in his panic. Of course he couldn’t fight Jerrod off. But he couldn’t escape, either.

“Don’t be stupid, Boss.” Jerrod gave a lopsided smile. “You’ll be fine in a little while. I’m just gonna let you have a li’l... breather.”

Senya blinked. And his eyelids fluttered as the mesmerizing babble started to filter in.

He couldn’t even pinpoint any particular comment the hen harpies were making—it was all just gibberish. Giggling and filler words and inane chatter all roiled together in his bubbling brain. His panic started to subside, and that terrified him more than anything in the world. Everything just felt so hard to understand. It almost felt easier to give in to the daze.

“No,” he muttered, taking another step back—but the hen harpies were there, they had him surrounded, there was nowhere to run—“N-no...”

Jerrod, protected by his amulet, only smiled as he started climbing up the remaining chicken perches, heading for the very hatch Merisi had fled through. “Everyone’s got their price, boss,” the ex-pirate called down. “For me, it’s comfort. For that bard, it’s living. And I’m startin’ to gather that for you, it’s getting’ to submit to these little—”

A talon shot up and grabbed his ankle.

The stockman paused. “Huh?”

A hen harpy was clinging to his ankle, flapping to keep her balance. She giggled at Senya. “Run for it, Master!” she sang.

Jerrod’s eyes bulged. “What the f—”

“Run for it, Master!” chanted the hen harpies, swarming around the stockman. Jerrod snarled, and Senya flinched at the blunt impacts as the stockman started brandishing the club wildly, climbing desperately for the roof. “Do the right thing! Do the right thing! Go on, then!”

Senya stared numbly as Jerrod lost his grip and tumbled to the ground among the pillows and blankets. But he wasn’t down for more than a second before another horrid crack rang out. One harpy fell to the ground, a cut opening in her forehead. Senya’s stomach heaved.

He turned and ran.

They wouldn’t hold Jerrod long. Jerrod was too strong, too cruel, and without their mind control, all they had was numbers. Jerrod would escape. He would come for Senya, and do whatever it took to... to what?

Senya had to get out of here. Had to get to the farmhouse. He knew he couldn’t fight the stockman, knew he couldn’t resist Bobbin or the fleece sprites, but he also knew he was going to do something or die trying, and damn it, that put him miles ahead of Merisi or Jerrod as far as he was concerned.

He ran to the gate and practically crashed out, falling to his knees and tumbling in the grass. He lay there for a moment among the wildflowers and buzzing honeybees, gasping for breath. He tried to rise—

“Ooh. Well, hello, there, little Master.”

Senya’s breath caught. The queasiness in his stomach instantly dropped away entirely, replaced by a familiar thirst.

He looked up, still on his knees, at the voluptuous woman standing over him. She smiled fondly down at Senya, her chin cupped in one hand, shaking her head sadly. He licked his lips.

“Hello, Mommy,” he whispered.

“It’s happening.” Glam giggled excitedly, zooming in complex spirals in the air. “I can feel the wards slipping! I bet I wouldn’t even cum from saying good g—”

“Don’t push it,” Val said. The dark-skinned fairy reached up, brushing shoulder-length pink hair from her eyes. “We’re not out of the woods yet, and some of those triggers are strong. They need to get to you-know-what first.”

“I still don’t like letting the cat and cow handle that,” Ora growled. Her long green hair trailed behind her in a plump braid, almost like a tail. “We don’t even know what these people did to the nymph to make those stupid Wills work.”

“Scarlet will be there, too,” Erie said, sparkling brilliantly. She winked at Ora. “You know, your girlfriend.”

Ora went bright red—with anger or embarrassment, Val couldn’t tell. Probably a mix. The fairy’s encounter with Scarlet, long before either of the two had been captured, was a very sensitive subject.

“Let’s stay focused, girls,” Val said firmly. “We’re just here to make sure the Thriae are doing their...”

As she spoke, they emerged from the chilly clouds, and she momentarily busied herself rubbing over her body to brush off the condensation.

And then she noticed the scene down below.

Four scarecrows, two Thriae, and one furry house fey were gathered in a messy pile, licking and kissing with wild abandon, all singularly focused on one aim: Making that hob cum as many times as possible. Judging by the hob’s shrieks and moans, they were doing quite well at it.

This was expected, and it did not faze the fairy. What did was what was happening to the slight southeast of them.

“Bitch!” Val burst out, and entered a steep dive.

“Wh—” Glam blinked as she exited the fog and saw the same. Glancing back, Val saw her eyes mist slightly at the sight, and the blonde fairy bit her lip, but the fog of lust quickly cleared and she took off after.

Had she not been so occupied in anger, Val might have regretted neglecting Glam so much today. The trouble was, Glam really was useless for hours after cumming, and they needed her knowledge of this area if they were going to be ready when the crows got here.

But Val was very focused on what lay below.

Because Sylvia, the Thriae artificer, was currently in the process of transforming the kitsune captive into a beastfey honey sprite. Honey was spilling from the kitsune’s open mouth as she moaned and drank, her eyes a shimmering gold, her whole body twitching and wriggling as Sylvia gently rubbed her pussy and cooed sweet nothings into her tufted fox ears.

“Sylvia!” Val called, her voice resonating with fairy magic. The Thriae looked up and gave a start, seeing the four shimmering fairies drifting down towards her. “Oh, Sylvia!”

Sylvia bit her lip.

Bobbin was lost in stupid, stupid, wonderful bliss. She could barely think straight. She could barely think. In fact, only one solitary thought was still pounding into her mind: Need control need CONTROL NEED control need control need CONTROL—

But she couldn’t even control herself, much less her scarecrows, and much less Lata and Lala. She moaned and squealed, eyes squinting with pleasure, as Lata slowly teased another torturous orgasm from her tingling pussy. They weren’t even bothering to kiss her anymore. They didn’t need to—she couldn’t muster a single word regardless.

Well, aside from...

“Yes!” she squeaked, wriggling excitedly as Lala tenderly kissed her nipples, worshiped her breasts, lavished honeyed love allover them. “Yes yes aaaahYES!”

And the Thriae giggled in glee. In triumph. Bobbin hated it—hated not being in control—but it just felt so, so good to be theirs...

And trying to trigger them just made them speed up, just made them torment her worse. The orgasms flowed like water, surging out of her, unbearable in their intensity. Fey never got tired of orgasms. They just got hornier and hornier and hornier.

And Bobbin was very, very horny right now.

She had been cumming for hours, it felt like. Only the burning need to dominate was saving her mind from total submission, and with every squealing climax, a bit of that need seemed to melt beneath the Thriae’s teasing tongues and tantalizing fingertips.

“Little slut,” Lala cooed, wetly kissing each of her breasts in turn. “Little—mm!—little bitch. Who’s—mmwah!—Master now, huh? Mm!”

“AaaaahAAAAH!” Bobbin’s eyes were teary as the pleasure crashed into her poor, needy body. She felt like a leaf in the river rapids. “Oh—oh—nnnnuh—”

“Sylvia!”

The two Thriae froze mid-lick. Bobbin’s immediate, irrational mind made her whimper, squirm needily, thrusting her pussy towards their messy faces, but they didn’t notice. They exchanged uneasy looks, glancing up at something colorful in the sky.

Bobbin followed their gaze, and saw four vaguely familiar fairies—oh, right, the four that Coryl caught that one time—drifting down towards Sylvia. Sylvia, she saw, was currently in the middle of pouring the entire contents of a little Thriae pitcher into the future scarecrow’s open mouth.

As she saw that—even as the scarecrows kept kissing her—Bobbin’s eyelashes fluttered. As the licking ebbed, her mind turned steely with precision, and several facts rapidly clicked into place.

1. The wards were likely breaking down, since the triggers and commands were losing power.

2. The presence of the fairies suggested some sort of organized revolt.

3. Nobody was licking her clit anymore.

“Scarecrows,” she husked, shuddering, “tackle them.”

Lata and Lala’s eyes shot back down to her. Lata’s eyes widened. “Wait, d—”

Bobbin’s button-eyed servants hesitated. But only for a second. It only took a second for the remaining charms the Thriae had laid upon them to shatter. Bobbin was their Master.

They released Bobbin and moved as one, diving at the two Thriae. The Thriae squealed and shrieked, but Bobbin had made her scarecrows strong. They wrestled the two wasp fey to the ground, giggling, pinning them against the grass—and immediately started licking at the Thriaes’ sweet bodies.

Bobbin rolled her eyes. Well, as long as they were being held down.

“Take them to the cottage,” she growled, climbing to her feet. Her head was still buzzing, and her head swam for a moment as she straightened.

She glanced over and saw Sylvia entranced by the three fairies, her tongue lolling out slightly as she swayed in time with the spiraling little fey. Behind her, a fourth fairy with hot pink hair was helping the kitsune to her feet.

As Bobbin watched, the fairy pointed off towards the woods. The golden-eyed kitsune gave a dazed nod and took off running.

Bobbin pursed her lips. Unfortunate.

But she had bigger problems.

“F-Fourteen,” she said, “go get Sylvia while she’s distracted and take her back to the college. Six, Twelve, Five, like I said, get moving. Leave them locked in there. Alone.”

With little whimpers of disappointment that Bobbin couldn’t help but privately agree with, the scarecrows hastened to oblige. The Thriae struggled, but with their pussies being licked, the basic programming was taking over. Bobbin would have to hope it held.

She shook her head ruefully as she watched the scarecrows escort the Thriae up. Their cottage was built with particularly strong wards, and would dampen the Thriae’s drive to rebel. That, coupled with the deadbolts, would hopefully hold them—at least for the day. She would have to think of better solutions later.

This had been a close one. A very, very close one. Bobbin clenched her fists. So this is the game they want to play? Then let’s fucking play.

She made one more mental list. There was a certain set of priorities now in place. First, she had to find Senya and make sure he was safe. Get him with his puppy sprites, if possible. They would keep him nice and safe while Bobbin handled things.

Second, she had to work out who was free and who remained bound. The holstaur, Brigitte, Scarlet and the nymph were of particular consequence. Especially the nymph.

Third, she had to find a way to restore the Master’s at any cost. She bit her lip. She knew exactly what cost it would be.

As the cottage door was barricaded shut, Bobbin rubbed her eyes. I feel like I’m forgetting... oh, right.

She glanced up and spotted the four fairies zooming off into the clouds once more—off to inform their brethren, no doubt, that the straw boss was free.

She sighed, and reached up with one furry hand.

With a crackling like fracturing ice, the clouds above slowly began to take on a blueish, crystalline quality. The magic suffused and froze the vapor to form enormous snowflake fractals. For a moment, they hung suspended there, a bizarre mass of strange icy formations in the sky.

The “ice clouds” began to plummet. The chill spread across the sky in all directions like a virus. As Bobbin held her hand out, more and more of the clouds froze this way, crackling and spitting in a tremendous cacophony.

Bobbin heard four muffled screams. Her hand dropped back to her side.

She didn’t check for the bodies as the last low-flying cloud in the sky shattered on the ground below, sending sharp shards of ice everywhere. The deed was done.

The straw boss pursed her lips as she stooped, retrieving her clothes, and began to get dressed.

They had hundreds of fairies to spare, and very little time.

Still, it was unfortunate.

Kitten was a good girl.

Kitten is a good girl, Kitten thought.

“Who’s a good girl?” cooed the puppy sprites as their tongues lapped eagerly at her slick pussy. “Who’s a good girl?”

But Kitten was well past words at this point. The dark-haired catgirl could only mew, and whine and whimper, and wiggle and wriggle, in the hopes that the puppy sprites would lick her faster.

Even though she couldn’t cum. Even though she would never cum. These five gorgeous demonic fey would hold her here and melt her mind into goo beneath their tongues until all she ever wanted was to be lost on the edge to eternity.

Edged forever. It sounded... heavenly. Kitten panted, the numb smile she had plastered on her face becoming positively worshipful as the sprites’ long, wonderful wet tongues lapped all over her body.

The puppy sprites adored her. They adored their kitten. They would keep on licking her, their heads bobbing, their tails wagging happily, and never even think to wonder why she never came, why she only ever gasped and mewed. This was all they wanted. It was all she wanted.

Kitten was a good girl.

Kitten is a good girl, Kitten thought. She beamed idiotically at her idiot ‘mistresses’. Kitten adored her puppies.

And then, without warning, Kitten... came.

It was like she’d been in a house in the middle of a tornado and had just opened the window. A house at the bottom of the ocean, and she’d just opened the front door. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped, and she gaped up at the ceiling in stunned wonder.

And Kitten began to scream.

She heard the puppy sprites giggling and cooing and praising her, and this glazed the blissful feeling within delicious obedience, but their words did not matter. Nothing mattered except

the

pleasure.

The catgirl writhed like a woman possessed, like a rag doll, her tongue lolling out, squealing and mewling in wild, brainless glee. She was drooling. She was reduced by this orgasm to a drooling, whining, mindless slut, and she didn’t care.

Because she was cumming. With no command, no Master’s praise, no submission at Bobbin’s feet.

She was cumming, and golden pleasure suffused her whole body like a feather in a rainstorm, made her quiver and cry and beg silently for more, more, more.

And the orgasm did not end. Kitten lay there, suspended at the peak, screaming and squealing herself hoarse as the pleasure went on and on and on. The lust sprites kept licking her lovingly, lapping up her juices, and it was all she could do to lie there and take it.

It was almost too much. It was too much. She couldn’t take it.

She was going to take it.

That stupid, empty-headed glassy-eyed smile was back as she felt the climax wiping out her thoughts like chalk on a slate. Well... not exactly wiping the thoughts out. It was more like something had dripped on the slate to smear them. Something viscous. Something slick and wet and tingly and needy and oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK

Kitten babbled out a whimpering attempt at a kitten’s yowl as the climax took her mind, body and soul and melted all three into ooey-gooey bliss. She was nothing. She was a puppet, a doll, a toy for her own pleasure.

She couldn’t begin to understand what was happening here, why the trigger had failed to restrict her orgasm. Sh couldn’t begin to care. The catgirl lay among floppy-eared, swishy-tailed puppy sprites and welcomed their long, wet tongues with a helpless delight she hadn’t felt in years.

Kitten is a good girl, she thought, tears of overwhelmed joy streaking down her cheeks, Kitten is a good girl, Kitten is a good girl, Kitten is a goo gyah goo aughhh yesn yes sdggdfshsgoodneedkittenlickyesyesmmommyYES—

Kitten was a good girl.

“It almost seems a shame to ‘wake’ her,” sighed the holstaur, sauntering into the kitchen. She cast Senya back a sly grin as she opened the icebox.

Senya looked up at the ceiling, nibbling nervously on his knuckle. “We can’t just leave her there,” he said, his voice shaky.

It felt so surreal to talk to Mommy—to the holstaur on equal footing. He had no idea how long it would last. Was this real, or was it more mind games?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know much of anything. But what he did know was that until he knew more about what was going on, he was not exactly going to do any work to try (and fail) to capture her. And if she really did plan to explain to him what was going on...

“No, I suppose not.” The holstaur bit her lip. “We all must serve a purpose, Se... Sss... Master.” She grimaced, slamming the icebox shut. Senya jumped at the brisk gesture. “And I will want the kitten’s sword when the time comes.”

“You... you want her to help fight Bobbin?”

Her lip curled. “Well... I suppose that’s one use for the wildcat.” She cast him a lazy smile.

“So it’s going to be a battle.”

Mommy giggled. “It always has been!” She reached forward and stroked Senya’s hair fondly. “Your blood’s control over me is not nonviolent, even though it might seem so. I think you know this.”

Her eyes sparkled into his. Senya swallowed, forcing himself to pull his head away. “S-so, can you... order the sprites off her?”

The holstaur stared at the tiles, pouting. “... no,” she muttered. “No, I cannot control them. They would... it would not work.”

Senya blinked. “So... am I supposed to do it?”

“Oh, no.” The holstaur flashed him a grin. “But I believe Kitten left a little whistle in the sitting room. And while I might not be terribly gifted at occupying the sprites’ attention... we know someone who is. Wait here, Master.” She took him by the hand and guided him into a chair, patting him on the head as she turned to the kitchen door. “This will only be a moment.”

Senya noticed Mommy snapping the whistle as she exited the kitchen. He stared quizzically at this, and she gave him a wry grin. “All done, baby! The cupid was a bit reluctant, but...” She giggled, wiping at a slight lipstick stain on her cheek as she stopped beside him. “I persuaded the darling.”

“Um... great.” Senya bit his lip, getting to his feet. “So...”

She took him gently by the hand and led him toward Bobbin’s bedroom. “They’ll be on their way down,” the holstaur whispered conspiratorially. “I already blew the whistle. The cupid will keep them busy for us.”

Senya shuddered, but did as instructed.

A moment later, as they took shelter in the straw boss’s bedroom, they heard bounding feet and hands rushing down the stairs. Senya stiffened slightly as he felt the lust aura drifting near, and his mind turned just a little bit to mush.

Without thinking, he gave a slight whimper. Mommy shot him a wary look.

Luckily, the lust sprites did not appear to hear him. He heard panting, squeals of delight, and then the slam of a door.

Senya poked his head out, biting his lip at his own eagerness. The room was empty. The kitchen door mwas shut.

“Up the stairs,” said Mommy, eyes narrowed. “And quickly!”

“What are you doing here?”

Valina stared up at them, her eyes glassy and dull, as they entered Senya’s bedroom. Senya felt his head swim slightly as he entered it, as if the room itself was solely associated with half-sleepless nights beneath the puppy sprites. He gnawed on his wrist nervously.

The catgirl was a bedraggled, wet mess, glistening with sprite saliva, her jet-black hair mussed and wild, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips stuck in a confused half-smile as she gazed across the room at her ‘saviors’. Her fingers idly toyed with her sex right in front of them.

Senya glanced at Mommy uncertainly. The holstaur smiled, but said nothing.

Senya swallowed, and turned back to Valina. He hesitated, searching for the words.

Valina spoke first.

“I didn’t hurt anyone.” The catgirl’s voice was weak, and wispy, and cracked like a stale cookie someone had pounded their fist into. “I-I didn’t kill. Didn’t rape. I... did nothing. Th-this Ranch is perverse. It is evil. I tried to put steel in the gut of its owner.”

She was quiet a moment, examining her own hands, rubbing them idly.

“It did not work,” she said, appearing to marvel at them. “I... can’t remember the last time I was able to say this. There was so much fog.” Her eyelids fluttered. “I feel so clear. And yet... so muddy. There was so much fog.”

“Is it... gone now?” Senya’s voice was hoarse, halting.

Valina looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “No. Less. The triggers are fading. I think Kitten is dead at last.” She reached up and fidgeted with her collar. “But I am still a prisoner. We have to get to the gem.”

Senya took a deep breath. “Okay. What is the gem?”

“Most magic requires a mage,” Mommy said, taking him by the hand and gently guiding him out the door. The busty fey held out her hand for Valina to follow. “That is why triggers are so much trouble. Maintaining that control over another’s mind makes your own mind vulnerable. The powers of the Ranch are channeled through a... a sort of gemstone. At least, we believe so. The gem holds the powers of servitude and domination. It also keeps the wards on the walls going.”

Senya blinked. A gemstone. The verdant star. Brigitte’s strange riddle seemed so distant now. Was this what she had referenced ‘beneath the hearth’.

“Without that gem,” Kitten said, taking Mommy’s hand, “the strain of the struggling fey would crack, and no power could contain them.” Senya must have looked skeptical, because she scowled at him. “This place is not natural. Mortals were not meant to master fey for personal profit. It goes against the Primal Code; the way we’re built.”

They made their way down the stairs. Senya nodded numbly.

“So, Master,” Valina said, and he could tell how bitterly she used that title, “you are free-minded. I know you aren’t soulless like that stockman. What side are you on?”

Senya swallowed a cricket in his throat, turning to face Valina as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He heard squealing and wet kissing sounds coming from the kitchen, and tried to ignore the faint tinglings this aroused in him, the longing to rejoin the pack. “I don’t know enough about this,” he said, voice shaking slightly, “but I... I believe you, Valina. So... for now, I guess I’ll follow your lead.”

“Always following.” The catgirl’s voice was mocking, but also contained a note Senya wasn’t sure he recognized. Was it fondness? Or something darker? “You can’t be passive forever, you know. You will have to do something. Have to make a choice.”

“Doing nothing is a choice, too,” Senya said with flippancy he didn’t feel as they came to the basement door.

“Is it yours?” Mommy asked, twirling a bit of silver hair around her finger.

Senya glanced between the two fey, then, with a shiver, reached for the basement door.

“I don’t think so. But it’s been a while since I’ve gotten a choice about anything. I... I think I’m going to think this one out.”

“Such a delight to see you again, Master,” Scarlet said, her voice soft and delicately clicking like an old music box. The grapevine dryad wore a very dark red dress, along with a black cartwheel hat and veil. All-in-all, she looked like she was dressed for a funeral. Her yellow-green skin, covered in elaborate tattoos of writhing vines and blooming flowers, was only accentuated by the dark garb. She stood right beside her bed, a sly smile on her red lips as she looked over the three new arrivals. She curtseyed, a blush painting those pretty dimpled cheeks. “M-Mommy. Always a pleasure.”

“I’m sure it is, little one.” The holstaur chuckled as she descended the stairs. Senya couldn’t help but marvel at the ease with which the fey managed them—with breasts that big, it was a wonder she could walk at all, much less go down such a steep path. She wore a simple rag skirt, like that of a scullery maid, and nothing on top. Her silver hair was done up in a bun, accentuating her two curved cow horns. “Oh, my sweet Vinifera.”

“Hello, Miss Scarlet,” Valina said, bowing her head slightly. The catgirl came up behind Senya, giving his ass a little squeeze. Like him, she was naked, though he noticed she’d found a bandana somewhere.

Senya swallowed. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was a distinct pecking order here.

All around, the shelves were lined with bottles of wine and empty, glowing bottles. Senya was carefully avoiding looking at those, remembering the last time he’d gotten caught up staring at the little dancing sprites within. Instead, he focused on the conversation, and on managing the thousands of little doubts stamping their feet in his head and waiting to be heard.

“Is it time?” Miss Scarlet asked, her expression turning serious.

“Yes, Miss Scarlet,” Valina said, her expression meek as she walked ahead of Senya and up to the wine dryad. “The fleece sprites are loose. Bobbi is being held up by the Thriae.”

The dryad rolled her eyes. “Then we’d best be swift indeed. Is there a reason our Master is here?” She raised an eyebrow at Mommy. “Has my Mommy grown submissive in her old age? Or is he...”

Senya glanced back at the holstaur, who smiled widely at him, eyes heavy-lidded, and patted his head. “Sen—Master here has decided to help us for now, the darling boy. He’s free as he could be right now.”

Right now. The threat was clear. Senya swallowed and nodded. “I’m here to help,” he said, himself uncertain.

“I see.” Miss Scarlet tutted, shaking her head. “Well, then, I suppose we must find uses for him in the meantime! Tell me, Master, do you know where the Chamber of Ambrosia is kept?”

Senya blinked. He glanced uncertainly towards the vent in the back of the wine cellar, where indeed, a faint light emanated.

“Yes, yes.” The dryad sighed, shaking her head. “I referred to some manner of door, master.”

He bit his lip and shook his head. He was conscious of everyone’s eyes on him at this moment. Miss Scarlet always knew how to embarrass him, to make him doubt himself. It made his cock throb slightly.

“Ah, well. I suppose I can’t expect our beleaguered warden to keep track of such things. Not when he is so constantly... diverted!” Miss Scarlet smirked. Though he didn’t meet her gaze, he knew where it was directed.

“Don’t you know?” Valina asked.

“Oh, sweet Kitten, you have been here longer than I.” Miss Scarlet giggled. “That’s why you have acclimated so thoroughly to submission, while I... largely abstain.” Her eyes flitted to Mommy, then back to Valina. “And I know that the lovely holstaur does not know, naturally.”

Mommy’s expression soured slightly. It was an unpleasant sight for Senya—like fresh cream curdling before his eyes. Her lip curled. “Well, do you have any idea of what lies within, little one?”

“Oh, yes.” Miss Scarlet gestured to the vent. “In fact, I was only just... ah, there he is!”

Senya gave a start, realizing that there was a faint flashing coming from the vent. A red glow grew brighter and brighter, then burst out into the room with a squeak.

A lithe little sparkle sprite, this one evidently male, had emerged. With short spiky hair and a fit, effete build, he fluttered about in the air, sparkles trailing him wherever he flew. Senya bit his lip, trying not to get lost in the light and utterly failing. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Valina was biting her lip, also staring at the sprite.

After a moment’s theatrics, the sparkle sprite settled upon Miss Scarlet’s outstretched finger, beaming up at her. “Miss Scarlet!” he sang, bouncing with excitement. “I went a rockhole in through the briefways—just flitter and a second-ten, outgoes you inasmuch!”

“I see.” Scarlet used her finger to lightly pet the sprite’s hair as she spoke, eliciting little gasps and happy sighs from the perching fey. “And what was in the room?”

“Almostmuch leafroots overall the flatspace!” The sparkle sprite giggled. “I saw the foursmany on one! There was deadgrass girls and nicegood on giggleslut, and I saw a shining bibblebabble!”

He clapped his hands excitedly, clearly exhilarated with his report.

Senya heard Mommy mutter, “... what?” under her breath.

“Thank you,” Miss Scarlet said sweetly, leaning in close. Her other hand gently wrapped around him, holding him still even as he squirmed. “You’ve been a very good boy.”

Her tongue snaked out, and she licked delicately over the tiny fairy-like creature’s body for a second, holding him helpless against her careful attentions. The sparkle sprite shrieked happily, clutching at his cock as he came almost instantly.

She tossed him down into a teapot on the table, flashing the others a satisfied grin. “Four scarecrows. And it sounds like Sylvia left something out in what she told you—she’s in there, alright.”

“Who is?” Senya asked, tearing his eyes away from the tiny fey—who was now hungrily stroking himself and softly mewling. Valina, he noticed, was still staring intently. “Wait, there are scarecrows down there? Have they... always been there?”

“I see.” Mommy sniffed, ignoring his questions. “Still, it changes little, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Miss Scarlet said. She pouted, glaring at the holstaur.

The holstaur turned to Senya and Valina. She reached out a hand and gently took Valina’s jaw, closing the drooling catgirl’s mouth and turning her away from the sparkle sprite. The catgirl gave a confused whimper as her red, sparkle-spiraling eyes returned to their normal green—a little hazy, but otherwise back to normal.

“So,” Mommy declared, “we need to find a way in. My little Ki—Valina might fit in through the vent, but I fear my particular assets would hold me back.” She winked at Senya, who felt his cheeks burning. “Master, sweetiepie, Mommy needs to talk to her Vinifera for a little while. There should be a secret door somewhere around here. Won’t you and Kitten work on this puzzle for us?”

Senya nodded uncertainly. Miss Scarlet, too, looked uncertain as she went off behind the shelves to talk to the holstaur.

Meanwhile, Valina had recovered and was looking over the stone, biting her lip. Her eyes darted over the dull gray walls; her tail was twitching. “This is going to be difficult.”

“Yeah.” Senya gave a short laugh, joining her in her searched. He made a limp effort at looking for obvious seams or out-of-place books on the nonexistent bookshelves. “Do you have any idea? Why doesn’t Mo—um, the holstaur know something?” He chewed his upper lip as the pet name almost slid out. It probably wasn’t a good idea to call her that if he could help it. It might remind Mommy how much she enjoyed brainwashing him.

On the other hand, not calling her by it might rile her up and make her want to ‘fix’ his programming. It was lose-lose.

Or win-win, hissed a mischievous voice in the back of his head.

Valina shook her head as her fingers ran over cracks in the stonework. “The only prisoners that were around back then who haven’t been sold or traded were Brigitte and the Thriae. They didn’t have this entrance when the Masters started out; I don’t know how they got in at all, really. And the Thriae won’t tell us.”

“Why not?” Noticing a suspiciously-placed red candle, Senya reached up and lifted it swiftly from its holder in the wall. Nothing happened. Disappointed, he put it back.

“They’re very, um, well-spelled.” Valina gave a slightly manic giggle. “And they’re not very helpful to us. Their alchemy is the cause of many of our problems, and they did it for treats and pets. They don’t care about anyone, really.”

Senya hesitated, noting the bitterness in Valina’s voice—and the way she clutched the bell at her neck. He was about to ask who Valina cared about here when a thought occurred to him.

“Brigitte?”

“Yes. She has been here a long time.” Valina sounded slightly terse, but the venom had left her eyes. “She is a good gir—good prisoner who does not make trouble. She and Tricin get many privileges for behaving. They do not help us.”

Senya frowned. Words were ringing in his mind—Brigitte’s words, smooth and clear as crystal. The Verdant Star.. “Actually, I think Brigitte might have done more than you think.”

Valina turned to him, an eyebrow raised..

“Brigitte, she...” Senya scratched his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “I was trying to ask her about this place’s past a few days ago, just before Market Day, and she gave me this... weird riddle. It didn’t click for me until a few minutes ago that it might have been about this. I think she was trying to give me a clue, as well as she could with all the spells on her.”

The catgirl’s head cocked to the side. “Yes?”

Senya took a deep breath. It took him a few seconds for the lines to come back to him. He was actually surprised they did—it was like Brigitte’s lovely voice had been seared into his mind. Maybe he was really just that attentive to his mistresses’ words. Or maybe she’d done that on purpose. Made him remember.

He cleared his throat.

“Ambrosia pours from a verdant star

Locked in limbo beneath the hearth

Once danced within the covenant’s blood

For the crime of perverting the mortal bud

But silver has been outweighed by gold

And now the star’s dance has been sold.”

His delivery of the last few lines was halting, but Valina seemed primarily interested in the first part, anyway. The catgirl’s eyes closed, and her ears flattened. She was clearly in deep thought, tongue thrust into her cheek.

Senya thought, too. He tapped his foot, struggling to piece the rhyme together in a way that made sense. He wasn’t even sure if any of it was relevant. A lot of it seemed potentially important, but was it about this particular problem? At a loss, he cast about the basement, searching for a connection.

The second half did seem like something else. Something deeper, more troubling. But the first half...

“A verdant star...” he muttered to himself. He stared straight ahead, chewing on his small finger.

Straight ahead of him, a simple set of jade stars—which he vaguely recognized as one of the symbols the Mountain Folk held dear—hung from the wall. They sparkled slightly in the candlelight.

Senya’s eyes widened.

“The verdant star!” he burst out.

“The hearth!” Valina blurted at the same time.

They paused, exchanging confused looks. Silently, he pointed at the stars. Silently, she pointed at the wall a little ways to the left. It took him a moment to register that place she was pointing to was right below the upstairs sitting room.

The chimney.

The hearth.

“What is it, little ones?” called Mommy, and she and Lady Vinifera came back around the racks of bottles. Miss Scarlet, Senya noticed, was quite scarlet in the face right now. “Have we found something?”

“Yes, Mommy!” Valina and Senya said together, both equally excited. The catgirl pranced over to the wall, even as he ran to the jade stars.

“Well, then.” Mommy smirked, crossing her arms over her tits. “What did we find?”

Senya hesitated, staring at the hanging relic. His excitement faded slightly as he glanced over at Valina, then back at the stars. He reached out and poked them. They jangled faintly against the wall. Senya chewed his inner cheek with a frown. Is this what Brigitte...

He heard a tremendous grinding from his left. Looking over, he saw that Valina had pressed several concealed bricks deeper into the stone, activating some sort of mechanism. He realized that that part of the wall was actually made of bricks, not stone—and before his eyes, the bricks were rising one-by-one into the ceiling, propelled by some sort of spell to fly out of sight.

Senya blinked, then bit his lip, looking back at his own ‘finding’. The jade stars hung there, silently mocking him. See, this is why I’m a carpenter and not an adventure, he thought.

“Well, well, well.” Mommy was clearly amused. “Someone’s been a very clever girl!” She reached down and petted the almost pathetically happy catgirl, whose head seemed to automatically bow to receive the holstaur’s motherly affection and praise.

Senya felt a sting of jealousy, but this was quickly replaced by a sense of dread and excitement as the four of them gathered around the newly-created entryway.

“Goodness,” Miss Scarlet whispered, “what do you suppose lies back there?”

Senya felt her hand squeeze his shoulder, long, painted nails digging in slightly. He turned and found himself staring straight into the noblewoman’s deep, drowning violet gaze. She leaned in close with a sly smile until he felt her breath on his lips, inhaled her heady, intoxicating scent. “Whatever it is,” she purred, eyes darting towards Mommy, “I’m certain we’ll be ready to take advantage.”

Senya’s breaths were ragged. The more of Miss Scarlet he breathed in, the more he remembered of his first submission to her. It seemed that she was ready to start guiding him to a second. But if he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought she was trying to tell him something. And the look she was giving Mommy was a curious conflict between helpless longing and...

… fear.

He felt a soft hand caress his cheek, and as though on a string, his head turned back so he could stare straight into the lovely hazel eyes of Mommy. The holstaur smiled fondly at him. “You’ve done very well, Master,” the fey said softly, continuing to stroke his cheek. Her every touch made Senya feel weaker, more submissive. He knew he needed to move away, but Miss Scarlet was right there, and it felt so good to let Mommy pet him... “And I know it has been... hard. But now Mommy needs one more little fav—”

From up above, they heard the sound of a doorknob turning. The four conspirators froze in place.

Light flooded into the wine cellar as the door opened, and three lithe, nubile silhouettes stepped through. Scarecrows, Senya realized. They strode down the steps with almost mechanical purpose, wielding whips that crackled and sparked every few seconds.

And though those button eyes did a good job of disguising their emotional state, Senya could tell that they were not happy.

Bobbin made her way in long, purposeful strides through the field of tangling grapevines, the relaxed smile on her face belied by her tense, alert posture. Several rows down, she could hear a man’s voice, followed by high-pitched, breathy moans.

She’d been hearing these moans off in the distance for the last five minutes she’d been on her way here. She knew where they were coming from, too, and knew that they had to stop at once.

She cleared her throat as she leaped over a row in a single neat hop, at last coming into sight of—

“Bad girl!”

“NNYAAAAAGH!”

Bobbin’s legs quaked, and she nearly fell to the ground, her lips mouthing out the silent equivalent of the main target’s squeal. The horrid half-orgasm that was streaming through her was torture, simultaneously making her horribly horny and viciously letting her down without the release it made her crave.

In the middle of the grapevine row, there stood Jerrod, dressed only in his trousers, standing over the shaking, spasming form of the lamia Tricin. The bronze-skinned lamia’s face was a brilliant scarlet, and her hands clutched her belly as if in physical pain as the tortuous orgasm claimed her body. Her red hair, normally as fluid and smooth as water, was ragged and tangled. Her cross-cloth blouse was a mess, and one breast had popped out completely, putting the normally proud overseer on pathetic display before Bobbin and the stockman.

Bobbin straightened, took a deep breath. “Jerrod!” she barked.

Jerrod spun, guilt etched on his face as plain as the brand on his forearm. “Bobbin!” He gave a nervous chuckle, recognizing the look in her eyes. “Aw, I didn’t—”

“Be more careful,” Bobbin growled, advancing on him. “I don’t—is that blood?” She’d just noticed some speckles of red on the aforementioned trousers.

Jerrod glanced down and pursed his lips. “Eeyup. Had some trouble with the hen harpies. No casualties, though a couple likely lost a few more brain cells. Nothin’ worse than what they get deepthroating me, though.”

“You’re kidding.” Bobbin stared at him, mouth agape. “The harpies rebelled. And Tricin, too?”

“Aw, nah.” Jerrod grinned, nudging the quivering serpent woman with his foot. “I’ve just been doing this for ten minutes to make sure she’s good and brainwashed. Didn’t wanna go wanderin’, figured you’d be here sooner or later, and it seemed like a good policy, y’know.”

Bobbin grimaced. “Maybe it would be, but those triggers are so weakened, you might as well just be doing it manually. They only hit me so hard because of... the nature of my binding. I doubt she’s feeling more than a light tickle.”

“Seriously?” Jerrod glanced down at Tricin, who gave a guilty grin. “Well, this little snake had me fooled, I guess.”

“She’s good at playing dead.” The hob rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you, Tricin?”

Tricin bared her teeth, her sharp fangs on display. “Do I get to complain about the deaths of four of my workers, Bobbi?”

Bobbin’s eyes narrowed. “No.” She flicked her hand, and an item she’d prepared earlier—a small clay pitcher—manifested in it. She was gratified by a new look of wariness and fear in the half-naked lamia’s expression. “Tricin,” the straw boss said, “you can behave, or you can, ah, make like a beehive. It’s your choice.”

The lamia’s eyes were narrowed to slits. “What do you want?”

Bobbin arched an eyebrow, leaning closer with the pitcher. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I...” The lamia was panting. Her eyes were locked on that pitcher like a fish on a line. She had never been punished, to Bobbin’s knowledge, with the mead treatment. She had primarily maintained that streak by being an exceptionally good slave. But she clearly was not used to being tempted like this. “W-what do you want, Master?”

“I want a hundred of your loyalest fairies,” Bobbin declared, handing Jerrod the pitcher. “I want you to order them to obey my every command. This Ranch will fall if we don’t have some backup. Understand?”

Tricin bit her lip, then nodded. She gave a short whistle.

Bobbin waited patiently as fairies began to gather. She wasn’t afraid of Tricin turning. Fairy hypnosis was powerful, especially in numbers, but Jerrod had his amulet and she... well, she could do a lot to make Tricin regret rebellion. Besides, Tricin had always been a good girl. Doubtless, she was as confused by her rogue fairies’ behavior as Bobbin was.

Soon, a small swarm had assembled. Bobbin nodded curtly as Tricin ordered them to obey Bobbin as if she was their master, privately reveling in how that sounded.

‘Master’.

It was new, alright.

But right now, the Ranch needed a Master. Any Master would do.

“Fairies,” she called out, “I want you lot—” She pointed to a mass of about twenty-five, “—to go looking for the fleece sprites. Do not touch them, do not play with them. Hypnotize them and keep them busy as long as possible, leading them back to your cages if you can. If you see any scarecrows, tell them to head to the farmhouse at once. Go!”

The fairies zoomed off, eyes glazed with the joy of obedience.

“You!” Bobbin gestured to a mass of about five more. “Go to the hen house. Just... keep them busy.”

“Yes, Master!” the fairies sang as they departed.

“You lot!” Bobbin singled out about a third of those remaining. “You go to the border. Patrol. If anyone approaches, send three to the farmhouse to report; the rest of you, do whatever you can to stop them!”

As they left, she glanced through narrowed eyes at Jerrod. “You and I have already done enough damage by the blood we’ve spilt. The gem can’t take it. No more. Jerrod, your job when we arrive is to get to Valina. I’m sure Mo—the holstaur has set her loose. Fuck her stupid brains out.”

“Right.” Jerrod gave a crooked grin. “And if she tries to cut me in half?”

“She won’t.” Bobbin snorted. “I’m sure she’ll want to, but she won’t.”

“Can you be sure?” Jerrod weighed the pitcher idly in his hand. ’Cause I’m kinda attached to... being attached.”

“Any independence she has gained is an illusion.” Bobbin licked her lips. “The kitten is made to serve. When I said not even I can remember half the triggers on her, I was being serious. So you take that little slut and you do whatever you want to her. She will bend or she will break. Either way, she’ll be yours.” She looked up with blazing eyes at the swarm. “All of you, follow me and Jerrod!” she called. “We will melt that hucow’s milky mind into a puddle.”

As they started away, she heard a small laugh. She and Jerrod stopped.

Tricin lay there, her tail as tangled as her hair, her expression weak and weary, her cheeks reddened. But she was smiling. “H-have fun with Laca, Bobbi,” she said sweetly. “Have fun with your... Mommy.”

A deathly silence fell over the vineyard.

Bobbin giggled. Tricin’s smile slipped like water off a river stone.

Bobbin took the pitcher from Jerrod. Her hands shimmered around it, and cloudy images began to manifest. A second Bobbin emerged from the first, shimmering with a hypnotic glow—the only difference being her breasts, which were extremely large and milky.

The true Bobbin offered the pitcher down to the lamia. But to Tricin’s eyes, the illusory Bobbin was kneeling, offering her round, milk-heavy breast towards Tricin’s suddenly dry lips.

Tricin, spellbound, reached out and took the ‘breast’ with a helpless sigh. She let out a faint whine of resistance as she started to ‘suckle’, lips locking around the lip of the pitcher and slurping slowly. Her brilliant green eyes began to glaze over as the rusty streaks in her irises started turning gold.

“Have fun with yours,” Bobbin cooed, and turned away.

There was one moment of pure panic where none of them did anything at all. They just stood there. They just stood still and stared at the scarecrows on the stairs.

Senya was like a statue. He wondered—could Mommy fight? Could Scarlet? He knew Valina could, but was this going to be three against one? He couldn’t fight. He was a carpenter, for crying out loud. A very, very submissive carpenter. He couldn’t—

Lady Vinifera popped her lips. And as one, thirty-nine of the bottles in the cellar shattered.

The scarecrows stopped at the base of the stairs, startled.

“Go,” Miss Scarlet said calmly, stepping forward with a hand on her hips. Her ass swayed with every step. “I will follow, my dears.”

Senya nodded and took a step back. Then he heard Valina gasp.

And like a fool, he followed the catgirl’s gaze.

Brilliant red lights were erupting from the bottles. Miss Scarlet had freed every single sparkle sprite in the cellar, or close to it, and the basement was filling with brilliant, mesmerizing colors.

The scarecrows stopped, struggling. One shaded her button eyes with one hand as the others swayed, their lips parting.

But Senya wasn’t really looking at the scarecrows.

The lights undulated, flashed, like a million crimson cuttlefish soaring through the water. Beautiful little forms—handsome men with chiseled features and muscular frames, little red-skinned women with bouncing breasts and swinging hips—danced and swam before his eyes.

And they were singing.

Cuff the mind to gleaming stone

Empty girls and empty boys

It drifts and floats, never alone

Joyous, slutty, empty toys!

Senya’s eyes had glazed over. His mind was sparkling, buzzing, flickering on and off like a dying lantern. Beside him, he heard Valina murmuring softly, and heard wet sounds. The naked catgirl was touching herself. Right there, in the middle of the battle.

Touching himself sounded nice.

Pleasure, cooed the voice of the swarm. Puuuuure pleasure.

He heard Miss Scarlet shouting, but he couldn’t hear her above the song. He couldn’t hear anything above the song, except the wet sounds. Everything was fading. Static. Empty. Drifting, floating, further and further into the sea of spinning red...

Hearing Valina stroking herself made his own hand stray, even as a tiny voice in his head tried to remind him to fight. At least a little. But Valina sounded so happy...

So empty...

And Senya knew for certain that if she emptied fully, if she stroked herself to orgasm, she would be Kitten again. Back to obeying, back to... nothing.

Numbly, he raised a hand up to block Valina’s vision. It was the most he could do, truly.

Even as he did so, Senya realized he’d already forgotten why. He began to lower his hand back down as he stared, wide-eyed and beaming with idiotic bliss, at the dancing sprites.

His head started to loll. He was starting to murmur along with the song as his fingers grazed his cock—

and with a feline hiss, he found himself shoved bodily backwards. He fell into a soft body whose arms wrapped tenderly around him. His head rested against two smooth pillows as the body dragged him backwards, even as he struggled, even as he tried to get one more glimpse of the lovely lights...

There was a click. Then a raspy sound like water on hot iron.

And darkness took them. Silent, cold darkness.

And the battle was gone.

Senya took a moment to register it. His head was still spinning. He blinked, and realized there was some light in here. But not much.

The entrance had closed behind them. Valina was gone. She had saved him.

Senya turned, and saw a long curving tunnel leading deeper into darkness.

And he was in the holstaur’s arms.

“Well,” Mommy said, locking eyes with him. Her eyes, he realized, were glowing brilliantly—the main source of light down here. He stared up at her, biting his lip. “It seems it’s just you and me, huh, baby?”

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Komori demanded.

“I mean,” Seng snapped, “I went to check on her and she was gone.”

“You muuuuuust be kiiiiiidding me,” whined the sazae-oni, her slick arms crossing over her plump, lavender form.

“Don’t blame me,” the jami snapped defensively. “Blame Mier and Suisshu! They were the ones who said they’d watch her. They’re the ones who wouldn’t let Nun finish breaking her little brain, too!”

“Well, she can’t have gone far.” Komori, the silver-haired bakeneko who had most unwisely appointed herself the Crows’ leader, pinched the bridge of her nose with a groan. “Find Mier and Suisshu, and tell them—”

“Easier said than done.” They all glanced over. One of the human Crows was walking over, arms folded. “Honored fey, the kitsune’s and doppelganger’s gear is gone. They have left us.”

“Argh.” The gancanagh Kemuri looked so angry, he almost put down his hookah for a moment. Almost. Instead, the short redhead puffed furiously. “I told you all we shouldn’t trust them! And remember how Nun said she was a teleporter?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Seng growled. The large-footed avalanche spirit was pacing back and forth, her eyes narrowed to slits. “This is a disaster. She’s going to give up the whole game! What the hell is wrong with Suisshu? A kitsune should be wiser than this!”

“Maybe.” Kemuri blew out a little smoke ring. “But we’re all a little bit stupid when family becomes involved.”

“What would you know about family, shortstack?”

“I knew enough about your mom last night.”

“Fuck off!”

Kemori sighed, staring up at the canopy. The cat searched her heart, and found nothing quiet to hold onto.

Suisshu and Mier were off to save Suisshu’s sister, consequences be damned. The revolt was underway, or soon would be, and soon, assuming it went as things currently looked, the gem’s control would be broken. And now the Master’s sister was about to throw a wrench in the works. And Nun was still away on her damnable foraging.

“Let’s go,” she said, ears flattening.

The bickering fey behind her fell silent. “What?”

“Let’s go,” the cat growled, glancing back at the others. A trio of wickedly hooked knives flicked into her hand. “If we run into the sister, fine. If we run into Mier and Swish, we can talk them out of it. If we find Nun, well, that’s a bonus. But damn the silver fence. Damn it all.” She pointed back towards the Ambrosia Ranch, letting out a slight hiss as her ears flattened. “Let’s go redden the sunrise.”

Senya made his way alongside the holstaur, trying to avoid the way her boobs jiggled with every step.

This hallway felt like it existed in another world. There were no sweet smells, aside from the holstaur beside him—only the damp smell of earth and metal and moldering festerance. The floor was cold brickwork. Senya, still stark naked, was shivering, goosebumps racing across his skin. Part of him wanted to seek out Mommy for warmth. Most of him knew that was literally the worst idea in the world right now. But did it have to be so cold?

There were patterns in the bricks, like lazy mosaics. He couldn’t see much—the only light sources remained Mommy’s eyes and the dim green light from up ahead. The patterns were colorful, their style totally alien to him. Like nothing he’d seen back home. They reminded him of something, though. Something more recent.

Something from around these parts.

Matriarch Zhau. The memory settled surprisingly easily into place. The leader of the village who had defused the standoff back when he and Jerrod had first arrived. She had dressed in a long, flowing robe that bore very similar patterns. Lots of stylized green stars and silvery helices.

He stared. In the cold, musty silence, the only sound was two pairs of bare feet padding on stone. He had nothing to think about but the pattern.

The pattern was identical.

Why was the Matriarch’s pattern down in the depths of a Ranch built by Westerners?

He frowned and looked up towards Mommy just as she grabbed his hand. She stopped him taking another step forward, giving a coy smile. “We’re here, sweet boy,” she said, her voice echoing down the passage. The words sweet boy seemed to linger especially long. Or maybe that was just in Senya’s head.

Senya blinked. Oh. So they were. The green light was just around the corner, now.

“It’s so quiet,” he whispered back. “Didn’t the sprite say there were scarecrows?”

Mommy smirked. “This hall is spelled. A charm to block sound from passing through the passage. It works for our benefit here, but I expect it is to keep the... sounds from reaching the upstairs through the fireplace.”

“Sounds?”

She gave his hand a little squeeze, then slowly walked around, wrapping both arms around his torso and hugging him close to her. She stroked his hair as he found himself looking up into her shining hazel eyes, which seemed just a little more green than usual.

He realized he was bending his knees slightly. Tilting his neck to ease her petting. His head was close to her pendulous tits, and he licked his lips instinctively. But he did not leave her eyes.

“Darling boy,” she whispered, smiling. “Do you trust me?”

Senya blinked. A thousand potential responses went through his head at that mome—

“I trust you, Mommy,” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand, then brought it up to her lips and kissed it tenderly. “Then do as Mommy says,” the holstaur whispered, “and no harm will come to her baby.”

He nodded.

Still leading him by the hand, she stepped around the corner. He followed compliantly at her heel.

The hallway rounded the corner and abruptly dropped into something else entirely. The brickwork vanished, replaced by glowing glass that shimmered with colored streaks like living marbles. The room was rounded, and there were no corners. No floor or walls or ceiling. It was all glowing glass.

Wild ivy crawled all over the floor—the same sort of ivy that Senya remembered seeing growing back home, twisting and leafy, almost cancerous in its determination to grow over every surface it could reach. Its roots had even broken through the glass in places. In a tangled mass at the chamber’s center, the ivy climbed up and over something, a lump at the bottom of the chamber that radiated a sickly green glow amid the vines.

The second Senya stepped around the corner, sound returned in a rush. His ears rang as the air was suddenly filled with the sounds of screaming, squealing, horrid wails. Wails of sexual frustration. Maddened giggles. Shrieks and moans.

Directly above the glowing mass, connected by the vines, a nubile young woman hung suspended in midaire. She had impossibly long green hair, entwined endlessly with the ivy as it held her half-upside-down, her arms and legs spread wide. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald, but unfocused, bleary with tears and red-rimmed from generations of torment and teasing. This nymph was the source of the screams. And Senya could see why.

Gathered around her, in flowing blue dresses, stood four blue-button-eyed scarecrows. They did not seem to notice Mommy and Senya. Instead, they were preoccupied with their captive. Each possessed a single paintbrush and a small inkbottle.

And they were painting on her. Nothing in particular, just... endless spirals, in silver ink. One was painting them on her neck, her forehead, around her gasping, wordlessly pleading lips, her spiraling green eyes. Two were dedicated to her breasts, painting long, lazy spirals, climbing around and around until they came to her nipple, then re-dabbing the brushes and starting back down to her chest. And one stood between her legs and was quite busy at work indeed.

This tickling work was carried on in perfect, merciless efficiency, and judging by the cadence of the nymph’s shrieks, there was more to it than just tickling and denial. That ink did something horrible to her.

It appeared to be endless. After a few seconds, the ink would seem to dissipate, or perhaps sink into the nymph’s skin. This was the nymph’s one respite—before Senya’s stunned eyes, he watched the scarecrows pause and dip their brushes into their inkbottles in unison. This gave her a moment to gasp and whine and blubber.

Then they would resume.

They were not speaking, or laughing, or mocking. They were just smiling. The scarecrows had been doing this for a very long time time, and they were content simply to continue torturing this poor nymph until the day the Reality came again, as far as Senya could tell. The wicked task was almost automatic for them. But they definitely enjoyed it.

He felt Mommy’s lips tickle his ear. “Meet Ambrosia,” she said softly, giving a little giggle. “The Ranch’s very first inmate, and also its most precious. Don’t pity her too much. She really did have this coming.”