The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

THE MONSTROUS RANCH, CHAPTER 19

Menielle flittered along the edges of the great silver fence, singing to himself in that buzzing hum the fairies most enjoyed. His head was immersed in happy little sparkly fog right now, thanks to Mistress Tricin, and so most of his mental processes were dedicated to thinking about the rules of obedience:

A good pet listens to Mistress Tricin.

A good pet lives to be told they are a good pet.

A good pet comes when they are told, and also cums when they are told.

A good pet listens and obeys.

A good pet laughs at Mistress Tricin’s jokes.

A good pet...

He paused, blinking compound red eyes rapidly. Curly blue hair bounced around his head as he stopped mid-flight and hovered for a moment, purple wings humming behind him.

Another order came to mind. If anyone approaches, send three to the farmhouse to report; the rest of you, do whatever you can to stop them.

There was a young woman approaching the gates. She was pretty—plump and pale, with shoulder-length brown hair and hazel-green eyes, dressed in a flowing green robe made out of something shimmery and expensive. Menielle’s eyes sparkled as he watched her. She had the most peculiar gait—the stumbling, struggling walk of a sleepwalker.

Or someone still shaking off the aftereffects of hypnosis.

Well, they couldn’t have that, could they? He grinned and pointed up into the sky, sending tiny little bolts of light arcing up to signal the other fairies that he had found someone. Then he descended into a dive to investigate further. As he drew nearer, he realized she was talking to herself.

“Oh, brother...” she was mumbling, her voice haggard and uneven, “... what have you gotten yourself into? Crows and fey and enchanters...”

“Good evening, Madam!” Menielle chirruped, coming to hover in the air behind her. Put her between you and the gate. Trap her. Stop her. He vibrated his wings rapidly. “Where are you going, then?”

“Um...” She blinked at him. He grinned wickedly and vibrated his wings faster, driving the beautiful patterns into her pretty, tired eyes. “I... l-looking for...”

“For what?” Menielle teased, giggling. The fairy started to fly up and down, swooping back and forth, just far enough to make her head bob to follow his movements. “Looking for what, pretty girl?”

“I... um...” She blinked. “I...”

“Well?” He smirked, seeing her eyes starting to glaze once more. Such pretty eyes were meant to be glazed, he was sure. That was a rule of Mistress Tricin. “C’mon, sweetie, what is it?”

The woman’s mouth opened, and she let out a soft whine.

And promptly blinked out of sight, without so much as a ‘pop’.

Menielle stared at thin space, his jaw dropping. His expression screwed up in a disappointed pout. “Well. That’s just rude!”

But the sourness faded quickly, thanks to some fervent edging. And after confirming that she had not simply turned invisible, he flew back into the air and returned, blissfully, to his mantras.

* * *

Senya stared into the glass chamber, swallowing, and watched the nymph squirm.

“W-what did she do?” he whispered, as Ambrosia wriggled and giggled, tears streaming down her face.

Mommy’s breath was hot in his ear, and Senya detected an impossibly rare note of rage buried beneath her creamy-sweet tone. “All fey follow the Primal Codes, and for all fey, those Codes vary. Nymphs can be quite naughty with how they bend the rules. But to harm a child... no, baby, that wouldn’t do at all.”

A child. Senya remembered Bobbin alluding to this. He realized he’d never asked just where that nymph was being kept. Stupid. Thoughtless. He’d been a dumb, thoughtless, absentminded...

He stopped himself. It probably wasn’t a good idea to scold himself right now using words that he’d been trained to submit to.

Senya swallowed. “S-so what do we do?”

Senya wasn’t a cruel person, by nature. Aside from the odd stone tossed at clustering ravens—none of which had ever done more than spook the noisy birds, anyways—he’d never hurt anything he didn’t have to. Really, anything at all.

And as much as the holstaur’s words made his blood run cold, a part of him couldn’t abide torturing any living creature for so long. Ambrosia had to have been here for centuries. That couldn’t be right.

But why were he and Mommy here now, then? Were they here to... release such a woman?

“Oh, that’s quite simple.” Mommy have a musical little giggle. “Do you trust me, baby boy?”

The answer came without thought, meek and compliant. “Yes, Mommy.”

Good boy.” And for a moment, Senya shivered, overcome with the sudden feeling of delight that coursed through him at those words whispered in his ear.

Then he felt a shove, and he was sent sprawling into the room of ivy and glass.

His fall was cushioned by the crawling vines, and just as quickly, he was up to his feet, heart pounding. He whirled around, stunned.

There was no sign of the holstaur in the hallway.

Ooh.

Senya’s heart sank. He turned back to the center of the room.

The four scarecrows had noticed him. And they were smiling.

“U-um...” Senya’s mind cast about for the right words. “Hi.”

The scarecrows exchanged smug looks. Three of them abandoned their shrieking charge without a word and advanced on him, their narrow hips swaying. One sauntered to his left, and without thinking he edged right, not realizing until too late that she was cutting him off from the hallway.

“I’m—you—it’s a—” His tongue fumbled for a solid few seconds as the scarecrows walked towards him, dark dresses trailing after them, twirling those paintbrushes in their delicate doll-like fingers. “I’m the Master of this Ranch, still,” he finally managed, “and I... command you to stand down.”

He put as much energy and command as he could into his voice, staring straight into the red button eyes of the nearest blonde monster girl just as she drew level with him.

Her response was to smile... and shove him roughly up against the ivy-covered wall.

He let out a squeak, struggling desperately. But she held him there like a cat pinning a mouse, one-handed, not even struggling as the brush spun in her free hand.

“L-let me go!” he sputtered, eyes following the paintbrush nervously. He’d seen what those did to the nymph. What could they do to a mortal like him?

“Silly mortal brat,” cackled another one of the three, advancing and grabbing his left arm. She took it so easily, so casually, he almost didn’t notice as she pinned it against the wall, holding him so his entire side and armpit were exposed. It was like his arm just... belonged to her. Like his whole body did.

And then he realized their game, and he started to struggle even more fiercely. They only laughed, as the third plucked his other arm away from his side, rendering his upper body totally exposed. “We know no ‘master’,” she said with a wicked grin. “We are created by Bobbin.”

The first of the three nodded, her button eyes seeming to glitter on their own as she dipped her paintbrush into that torturous silver ink and twirled it before his eyes. “And she told us what we get to do to those little snacks that come down here!” she sang.

“N-no!” he whimpered, tears of sympathy and panic springing to his eyes as he heard the nymph wail. That would be him in a moment, and his heart was pounding. He couldn’t look away from the first scarecrow’s brush, dipped in that shimmering ink, as it slowly descended towards his side...

“Help...”

The scarecrows paused as the little murmur rose above the nymph’s squealing and Senya’s panicked whimpers. They seemed to exchange looks once again, then turned.

The paintbrush slowed in its spinning, and Senya managed to steal a glance at the speaker.

The first scarecrow stood before the nymph, as before, dabbling with her paintbrush. But her mouth hung open in entranced wonder as she stared at the holstaur’s big, jiggling tits in front of her. That little whimper appeared to have been her last burst of resistance, for as Senya watched, a dumb smile was starting to flicker onto her face.

Senya couldn’t see—the squealing nymph blocked his view—but he could tell from the scarecrow’s little gasps and jerks that the holstaur had fingers between the scarecrow’s legs. Mommy glanced back at the other three and flashed a sly grin. They stared at her, plainly shocked.

One hand still hard at its sticky task, the holstaur dove down and thrust her free hand into the mass of ivy.

It was like a jolt of lightning struck the scarecrows. They ran forward with wordless shouts.

Then Senya’s ears popped.

And Mommy wrested from the ivy a brilliantly gleaming emerald the size of a horse’s eye.

As she knelt there, gripping the Verdant Star, Senya felt a strange sense that everything about life had just fundamentally changed. Something had shifted. The wind had turned. The sun had come out from behind the clouds. Rain had begun to fall.

Something had changed. Something big. Something intangibly ancient. Something deadly.

The holstaur straightened and held up the gem with a grin. Several streaks of gold flawed its surface, Senya noticed, almost like the roots of a plant. The Star shed its light freely now, a lovely green shade that washed over Senya in rapturous glory.

He blinked.

Swayed a little.

The gem’s glow was not harsh or unnerving. It didn’t flash or spin or crush his will like a mouse in a serpent’s coils. It was... calming. Like a sunset. Like a warm breeze.

That said, it was difficult to feel totally calm with these scarecrows advancing on Mommy with their paintbrushes, murder in their eyes.

Mommy cast Senya a guilty smile. “Forgive me, sweet Senya. I only wanted to make absolutely certain that they were not of the Will before I did anything too... rash.”

“Of course we’re not,” the lead scarecrow hissed. “Bobbin made us. And she told us just what to do with you.” She twirled the paintbrush menacingly, openly eying Mommy’s chest. For a moment, Senya wondered just what would happen if the brush touched one of Mommy’s teats, and his legs quaked a little—out of concern for the holstaur, and also out of arousal at the very image.

Mommy was staring at the gem thoughtfully. She glanced at Ambrosia, who was giggle-whimpering in clear erotic agony, then back at the gem. Her eyebrow rose as she side-eyed the scarecrows. “You might not be of the Will,” she said, with a slow nod, “but there is so much more to this pretty little thing than bloodline. This pretty thing doesn’t dance for blood, my darlings.”

Her eyes glimmered green, tinged with gold. “This star dances for sweet, golden Ambrosia, doesn’t it?”

The three scarecrows froze. Senya saw them tense, and notice one scarecrow’s lower lip quivering. Her hand went to her mouth, and he saw that it, too, was shaking slightly.

As one, they took slow, halting steps forward. They were groaning softly. Pained groans. But they walked.

“You will serve your Mommy,” the holstaur murmured, “or you will serve no one whatsoever. Isn’t that right, my dears?”

“N-no,” the lead scarecrow hissed, her expression monstrous in its rage. “You... will... not...

Senya stared, heart pounding, at the lead scarecrow. He could tell it was taking all of Mommy’s attention to manage the gem right now. The scarecrows were narrowly resisting, but they were getting closer and closer, and there were three of them, and that paintbrush was getting so, so close, and why couldn’t he move

And then their button eyes shattered.

A strange, horrid sound rang out, like a cross between breaking glass and grinding sandstone. And then a little sigh. And then silence.

The three scarecrows went limp and fell to the ground in a pile. Senya stared in shock at their blank, eyeless faces. They were transmuting before his eyes, their flesh turning pale and glassy, like porcelain dolls.

“Mm.” Mommy giggled, running a hand over the gem in fascination. “Goodness. That was easier than a kitten, wasn’t it, Senya, darling?”

Senya blinked. He looked up at the holstaur, slowly, unsurely. He already felt his heart settling, found that calm visiting him again. He nodded slightly. “Uh-huh.”

The holstaur blinked, She glanced at the Verdant Star, at the one surviving scarecrow—who was still entranced by her task—and back at Senya, her head tilting to the side.

A sly smile drifted onto her angelic face.

“It looks like my sweet baby boy,” she cooed mischievously, advancing on him with swaying hips and jiggling breasts, “is very taken with the Verdant Star.”

Senya swallowed. He knew she was flirting with him—and knew how easily that could escalate—but he was too calm to be worried. Far too calm. He almost felt like he was back in the fleece sprites’ pen again. Just the thought made his head loll a little... It would be so nice to be back there, back in a fey’s warm arms, leaning into their soft breasts...

The nymph let out a desperate little shriek, startling him. He blinked at the nymph, noting the tears streaming down her face, then at the holstaur. He chewed his knuckle nervously. “Are we... are we going to free her, Mommy?”

Mommy giggled. “Oh, why would we do such a silly thing, baby?”

“Well...” Senya frowned. “I mean, she’s a bad person, but... it seems like... a lot. What they were doing to her. Like... some kind of dark fairytale? And for no reason.”

Mommy licked her lips. She leaned in close and took his chin in her fingers, almost like she was admiring a prized horse. She stroked his cheek. It felt so good when she touched him like that. “Baby, oh, my silly boy, of course there’s a reason.”

“There is?” Senya was having trouble thinking clearly. For now, he just went along with Mommy’s prompts, knowing she would explain. As she spoke, his eyes settled once more on her massive, gorgeous breasts. Again, the naughty thought of the paintbrushes teased and tormented his mind, and his cock was rock-hard once more.

“The Verdant Star is just an ambient item on its own.” The holstaur winked. “It emanates an aura of passivity and compliance towards fey imprisoned here, ensuring they cooperate. This aura was hijacked and rejiggered by the Masters to bestow control onto whoever bore the Star, and then onto their bloodline instead. They...” She trailed off.

Senya realized he was barely listening. He licked his lips, lost in the sight of her flushed breasts. It had been so long since he had suckled at his Mommy.

She gave a rueful, amused sigh. “It’s, um... oh, how should I explain it for my baby boy?” She leaned forward and ran her finger over his cock, and Senya gasped at the tickling sensation. “When Ambrosia is being teased,” she whispered, “it makes energy that lets the Master of the Ranch control the prisoners. She holds in all those nasty triggers, too, so it doesn’t strain the Master’s poor little willpower.”

The words drifted and floated. Senya struggled to hold onto them, to comprehend. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how badly he needed to lie in Mommy’s arms and just relax. He licked his lips.

“So...” His tongue felt leaden. “So it lets me... control gem... when she’s tickled.”

The finger stroked up his shaft, and he gasped. “That’s right, baby.” Mommy giggled. “Only... not exactly. Because the second someone else touches the gem, that fragile little Will just... melts away.” She tapped the head of his cock, and he felt a bit of precum drip out. “Just dribbles away like milk from Mommy’s teat.”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“And that means the Master of the gem,” Mommy whispered, and Senya felt a hand on the back of his head, “is whoever is holding the gem.”

“Okay.”

“And Senya?”

Senya looked up. Mommy smiled down at him, and he realized he was now cradled in her arms, his lips mere inches away from her nipple. “You’re going to be Mommy’s good boy forever, aren’t you?”

Senya blinked.

He blinked.

He blinked.

“I...” This was wrong. He couldn’t. I shouldn’t. He. He couldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Bad girl,” he managed, with the last of his will.

Mommy smirked and stroked his hair, guiding his quivering lips towards her tit. “Silly boy,” she purred. “It doesn’t work that way anymore.”

His lips locked around her nipple. And he couldn’t help it—the second he felt it pass between his lips, he began to suckle, his mind melting into docility almost immediately. Wonderful, perfect compliance. He whimpered as intense pleasure flooded his brain and what little fight remained melted into gooey honey. He was a good boy. He was Mommy’s good boy.

Although...” he heard Mommy musing, “... I wonder if we might like to give you some fun little triggers to play with.” She petted his hair fondly. “Wouldn’t that be—”

Let him go, holstaur.

“Mm?” Mommy turned around, still holding Senya in her soft embrace.

Out of the corner of his eye, past the whimpering nymph, Senya saw the vent at last—cleverly concealed beneath all the crawling, invasive ivy. Valina was crawling out of it, eyes narrowed, a sword shimmering into existence in her left hand. “I said, let him go.”

“Hello, Kitten. Oh...” Mommy put a finger to her lips in mock-disappointment. “Are we being a little bit of a brat tonight?”

“We are not keeping her like this,” Valina hissed. The catgirl tossed her hair back, and some sand and straw shook from it. “Not even her. And you are not keeping him or that gem.”

Mommy sounded amused. Senya, continuing to suckle, to fill himself with Mommy’s wonderful, intoxicating milk, smiled inwardly, certain that Mommy would take care of everything. “Oh, Kitten, do you really think you can stop me?”

“You know what?” Kitten’s hand shimmered, and a long, curved sword appeared in it. “I have been resisting that stupid thing for generations. And now all my triggers are gone. So yes, I may not be able to resist for long, but I am pretty damn sure I can hold out long enough to cut off your fucking ha—”

“Come to Mommy, Kitten,” Mommy cooed.

There was a pause. “Wh... what?” Valina’s tone was derisive, but there was an undertone of fear to it.

“Come to Mommy, Kitten,” the holstaur repeated. Her voice trickled like poisoned honey, and even Senya trembled.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sword fall from Kitten’s hand and dissolve into smoke. She fell to her hands and knees, eyes wide. “N-no,” she gasped, clutching at herself. “You...”

“Come to Mommy, Kitten.”

“Mommy!” Kitten squealed. And she began to crawl.

Senya felt himself being lowered to the ground. He was soon joined by Kitten in Mommy’s lap. He loved the feel of her warm body pressed against his, and he moaned in greeting as her lips locked around Mommy’s other nipple and started nursing. She drank with a hunger Senya couldn’t believe. He suckled faster, worried that Mommy would love Kitten more if she drank more milk than he did. Impossible, of course. Mommy loved everyone so, so much.

“Such g-good boys and girls,” Mommy whispered, petting Senya’s and Kitten’s hair. Milk flowed into Senya’s mouth, and he felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier with every gulp. “Oh, I could almost stay here forever, couldn’t I, darlings?”

They whined in unison. Oh, why not? Senya was lost in the sweetness of the milk, his mind melting into pure, pliant, docile obedience. He was a good boy. He needed to suckle. That was all that mattered.

“But,” Mommy purred, rising to her feet. They rose with her. After a moment, Senya and Kitten reluctantly stopped suckling and pulled back, staring up with identical puppydog expressions. “But. I’m just too generous for my own good, really.”

She took each of them by the hand—Senya felt the warm glow of the Star as she took his hand, but thought nothing of it—and led them back out to the hallway, chuckling to herself. “And I just have to share my gifts with dear, adorable Bobbi, haven’t I?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Kitten and Senya recited.

And the holstaur gave a sinister laugh.

* * *

Miss Scarlet smiled with grim satisfaction, looking over the three scarecrows. One sat in the fetal position in the corner, rocking back and forth, stroking herself frantically as three glimmering fey flashed and sparkled around her. One had fallen into an old wine barrel, and Miss Scarlet had taken the liberty of sealing her inside with a few dozen of the little sprites.

And one lay on the ground in two pieces, sand and straw spilled all around her.

Valina really lacked sophistication, in Miss Scarlet’s polite view.

With the scarecrows dispatched, everything had started to seem a little bit more... real to Vinifera. This really was happening. Her eyes glittered. Soon she would see the sun again. She would see her grapevines again.

Idly, she wondered if they’d grown much. She certainly did see a lot more wine every year down here. There had to be at least a few dozen plants by now, surely.

“Oh, Vinifera!”

Vinifera turned, eyebrows arched, as the bricks beneath the hearth slowly “fell open” again. She waited, tapping her heeled foot against the stone floor. Really, the Wardens couldn’t have designed it to work a little bit faster?

At last, Laca stepped out, smiling. Kitten and Senya were clinging to her arms like cheap courtesan sprites.

Mommy beamed at her and held up the gem. “Didn’t I tell you, darling?” she cooed.

Vinifera swallowed and licked her lips. “Yes, Mommy,” she said compliantly. She tried not to be too happy about this turn of events, even though a part of her was rolling on the bed squealing with glee at the thought of being forced to yield to the holstaur’s affections forever. “You did tell me.”

Mommy smirked and glanced around. “You’ve done very well,” she said sweetly, even as she reached down and casually stroked along Senya’s shaft. The poor little pet let out several little gasps, clinging even harder to keep from doubling over. “I think I’ll have to be extra generous towards you when this is all done.”

“Yes, Mommy,” Vinifera whispered, noticing the little dribble of milk and realizing with envy that Senya and Kitten had already gotten to have a taste. It had only been about twenty minutes since she’d been ‘convinced’ to drink once more from Mommy’s teat, and already she craved another session.

She’ll bend you over and fuck your mind away before the moon is full, the lucid part of her brain warned her.

It’s so nice to obey Mommy, said another part, softer but more expansive, like cotton in her head.

At least I’ll see the sun again, said a third part she couldn’t quite recognize.

The holstaur turned and, leading her three loving milkslaves, began walking up the stairs.

Vinifera followed, licking her lips, and let her mind submit for a while to the Star’s calming glow.

* * *

Senya was lost, in a very real way. Everything felt so hazy, misty, blurry. The world was thick, cloying, like dense sugarwater. It swirled. Made him feel weak, dizzy, sleepy.

Words swam together. Whenever Mommy or Miss Scarlet spoke, it was noise, beautiful, beautiful noise. He wasn’t meant to understand. He was meant to obey.

All he could do was cling to Mommy’s arm and be led. Mommy—beautiful, milky, loving Mommy—was the only thing that felt real. Her and Kitten—sweet, adorable Kitten, who clung to Mommy’s other shoulder like a lifeline.

Vaguely, he recognized they were upstairs again. He tried to focus on Kitten, noticing how happy she looked. Her eyes were half-closed, and a little purring sound was coming from her as she padded alongside him.

He knew how she felt. It was so easy to be lost, and it felt so good, but Mommy kept them safe. Kept him safe from everything else in the world. And soon, he knew, he would get to suckle her again, and hopefully she would never make him stop. Him and Kitten. Lost forever in Mommy’s breasts.

Poor Kitten. He almost giggled, noticing how dizzy she looked. Her eyelids were almost shut completely. She really was lost, wasn’t she?

It was almost sad, really. She’d been so confident earlier.

Almost sad.

He bit his lip. It was kind of sad, actually. His head buzzed, but it couldn’t quite allay the discomfort. Valina... Kitten... she seemed happy now, but she also seemed so confused. And she didn’t seem to like being confused.

She’d feel better when she got to suckle, though. He nodded to himself, still unsure. Mommy would help her. Mommy would make all those silly thoughts dribble away, just like she had for him. No more Valina. Only Kitten.

Poor Valina.

He frowned. He was starting to feel unhappy. He was starting to think.

Luckily, he knew just who could help him stop.

“M-Mommy?” he whispered, looking up at the angelic face of his mistress. “Mommy...”

The holstaur paused in whether she was saying, glancing over at him. “Yes, darling?” the holstaur whispered, smirking.

“Why did you...” It took an impossible level of effort to muster these words. “Why did you make Kitten Kitten again? Kitten liked being Valina, didn’t she?”

The holstaur raised an eyebrow. She seemed genuinely surprised.

“I didn’t think he could still even talk,” he dimly heard Miss Scarlet say.

“Of course he can,” Mommy said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. But she also seemed slightly annoyed, which only made Senya feel worse. But then she giggled down at him. “Baby, Kitten is happy now. Aren’t you, Kitten?”

They looked at the catgirl. Kitten hesitated, swaying slightly in place.

“Mommy,” Senya said again, feeling more sure, “it’s not right!”

There was a pause.

The holstaur gave a little sigh. “Oh, I haven’t hours in the day, have I, Vinifera?” She stepped back, bringing her hands together so that Kitten and Senya clasped hands without thinking. The curvy holstaur laughed. “Kitten?”

“Mm...” Kitten swallowed.

“Senya is feeling confused,” Mommy said, her tone a little mocking. “Would you like to empty him for me? I’ll let you be his mistress for a bit.”

“Um...” Kitten blinked between the two of them, her eyes drawn naturally to Senya’s hard, twitching cock. Her lips parted slightly, but she frowned. “I don’t... don’t...”

“Kitten.” The holstaur’s voice was soft as her hand extended forward, grazing Kitten’s cheek. Senya watched the catgirl melt before his eyes, the frown giving way to an expression of empty-headed exhaustion. “Be good for Mommy.”

There was a pause.

Kitten sank to her knees and looked up at Senya. She looked down at his cock, then back to him.

“Senya needs me?” she whispered, a tiny smile flickering on her face.

* * *

Laca smiled down at her two favorite pets as Senya struggled to form words, only to trail off into moans as Kitten leaned in and gave his cock a little lick, then another, then another, and then the catgirl was licking in earnest. He dropped to the floor almost immediately, and the holstaur took one self-indulgent moment to watch as the catgirl pushed him onto his back and descended, licking her lips, upon his erect member.

She felt a tentative tap on the shoulder, and sighed. “Yes, Vinifera,” she said briskly. “Let us go and finish this silliness.”

She spared a glance toward the kitchen. Briefly, she considered trying to claim the cupid. But doing so would mean dealing with the lust sprites, and between the two... probably not worth it. Not while Bobbi remained at large.

Laca smiled as she glanced toward a window and saw Bobbin and her followers advancing on the house. Five scarecrows accompanied her, along with that lug Jerrod (a handsome lug, though). Laca’s eyebrow rose as she noticed the telltale glow from above that warned of a clumsy attempt at a fairy ambush.

The holstaur advanced on the door, wine dryad in tow. The gem pulsated in her hand, warm and smooth, and she giggled.

Poor, sweet Bobbi had no idea just how outnumbered she was about to be.

* * *

Vespula stepped over the twitching, whimpering body of the blonde scarecrow, her lips quirking upwards in a sly smile. “That’s the last of them, Lata!” she said happily.

Culata flashed her a look out of the corner of her narrowed eyes. The other Thriae stood right outside the cottage, staring out over the Ranch. She smiled. “Very good, Lala.”

Lala preened and gave an airheaded little giggle. Lata was particularly dominant today, and Lala could only bring herself to obey and enjoy Lata’s attentions for the moment. Privately, Lala hoped she had the chance to turn the tables before they left, but, well, time would tell.

Behind them, the scarecrows Bobbi had left to manage them had been reduced to quivering, masturbating wretches. The two wasp-waisted fey stood side by side, looking out over the sunset-lit estate, and exchanged mischievous grins.

“Looks like they’re getting ready to have some fun at the cottage,” Lata said.

“Gosh,” Lala said, simpering, “if only someone was around to help them!”

“I know, right?” Lata shook her head ruefully. “If only someone could talk some sense into those sillyheads and convince them all to, like, stick together!”

“Hee.”

“Heehehee.”

Their wings started to vibrate.

It didn’t matter to the Thriae who won this battle.

The triggers were broken. The hacks that Sylvia had placed on the Star had been crumbled down to their most basic foundation, and the Star could no longer compel them to do much of anything, really.

And it was time to signal the hive.

Their wings beat faster, and faster, until they were sweating with exertion. The two Thriae exchanged looks, and a low buzzing filled the air.

The pair began to release that wonderful hum they had so long missed—not the hum that turned their enemies’ brains to goo, but the hum to signal that this place was ripe, it was full of delicious little perverts who would love to be shown their place, that it was time for the Hive to accept back its three exiles and conquer the Ambrosia Ranch at long last, the hum that would reach the most primal awareness of the—

“Hey, is this a bad time?”

Lala spun around with a startled hiss.

A pale, curvy young woman wearing a flowing green robe stood there, head tilted, index finger pressed against her cheek, regarding the two of them skeptically.

“Only I’m looking for some tips on how to get around this place,” the woman said, her voice dry. She showed no signs of fear, which made Lala a little bit irritated—young mortal women being terrified and begging for mercy was generally regarded as being tied for the best perk to being a Thriae in exile. “Kinda hard to find my way around here. You two seemed like you might have a hunch.”

Lala glanced uncertainly at Lata, who looked even more floored than Lala felt. Inwardly, Lala wondered if she could exploit that. She turned back to the woman with a smirk. “Well, gosh, honey, I—”

She gave a start. The young woman had just appeared roughly ten feet to her right, right by the cottage door. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, right. So, to be clear, I can teleport. I literally have zero patience right now for more mind games. All I want is an answer.”

Lala stuck her tongue into her cheek, considering this. Maybe they could try to hypnotize her with the answer, if it was possible to make it complicated. Maybe they could start buzzing and hope to catch this hot little number off-guard. Or maybe they could just give her the answer so she’d, ha ha, buzz off.

Lala rolled her eyes. Okay, this was just annoying. Why were they wasting time on some party-crashing mage when...

… her eyes glanced back down to the woman as, behind her, the cottage door silently swung open.

And Sylvia slipped out, eyes glinting with mischief, holding a small clay pitcher.

Lata still seemed off-balance, so Lala quickly took control, squeezing her lover on the shoulder—an affectionate gesture, but also a dominant one. She cast Lata a little smirk. Oh, Lata, as soon as this is dealt with... “Well, gosh” she said slowly, concealing her amusement with an expression of vapid uncertainty, “I guess we could at least try to help, sweetie.”

Thank you.” The mage sounded very sour. Poor little slut needed sweetening up, in Lala’s medical opinion. Sylvia slowly slunk behind her, barely holding in her giggles, gazing ahead of her target at Lala and Lata with bright, excited eyes. “I’m looking for Senya Wetherdean.”

“Senya?” Lala bit her lip, thinking hard. “Hm. Gosh...”

“If you don’t know, I can leave,” the mage snapped. Sylvia was almost within arm’s reach.

“No, no, I think it’s familiar!” Lala said, her face breaking into a wide smile. “Um, like, does he have brown hair? Pretty, pretty eyes like yours?”

The mage’s exasperation vanished. “Yes! That’s him!” Behind her, Sylvia covered a silent giggle, reaching her hand up over the mage’s head, pitcher snaking around the mage’s left. Lala could barely hold back her excitement. The “tug-and-drug” technique, where a victim’s head was grabbed from behind and tugged back while honey was poured onto their face, was always delicious to watch. Sylvia’s hand descended, ready to grasp the mage’s forehead...

An arrow lodged in the ground at Sylvia’s feet. The Thriae let out a shriek, falling backwards, the clay pitcher slipping from her hand and breaking against the cottage wall.

Lala, Lata and the mage whirled around as one.

Two figures approached from the south. One wore a monk’s habit, had brilliant, spiky orange hair, and carried a long, curved sword. Three fox tails danced behind her as she scowled at the lot of them. Beside her stood a figure of unclear gender—their skin was translucent, and their arms were currently hideously morphed into some sort of sinuous longbow shape.

There was a moment of stunned silence. The mage eyed the pair with clear alarm, but seemed mostly preoccupied with the Thriae who had been right behind her. She was panicking. Lala’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“Sorry,” the doppelganger chirped, whipping another arrow out of their quiver and nocking it to the arm-bow. “My aim is just absolutely crummy sometimes.”

“You bitch!” Sylvia spat, rising unsteadily to her feet. The mage subtle teleported a few meters back.

“Please, there’s no need to swear.” The doppelganger pointed the nocked arrow at Sylvia, eyes narrowing to slits. “When the arrow hits you, try to say something like ‘dagnabbit’. It’s really just as good as the real thing.”

“I bet you’ve gotta say that a lot, doppelganger,” Lala said, smirking. Inwardly, she was still startled, but she wasn’t about to show that to future honey drones, was she?

The doppelganger blinked. They scowled. “Okay, this is about to get messy.”

* * *

“That’s enough of this.” With a heady sigh, Kemuri the gancanagh blew a great puff of sweet smoke into the air.

The smoke drifted up into a colorful cloud of around ten fairies, and as it suffused them, their insectile eyes slowly grew dazed and confused. Their flashing lights became slower and dimmer, and Kemuri noticed the mortal Crows recovering slightly from the hypnosis the fairies had put them under.

“Good sweets,” Kemuri cooed—not unkindly, in his opinion—as the pretty little things slowly wafted down. He appreciated the male fairies’ bodies aesthetically, of course, but as a gancanagh, it was his nature to favor the female form, and so he ogled their nubile bodies eagerly. “Easy does it. Eeeasy does it.”

Nearby, the snail-like sazae-oni giggled, petting the four fairies who had gotten stuck in her soft, sticky, massive cleavage. “Goood sweeeets,” she sang, her voice as unpleasantly mosquito-like as ever—though to her victims, Kemuri knew, it would sound as melodic as a songbird’s.

Meanwhile, the cat fey Komori was walking around, her tail flicking behind her, as she painstakingly awoke every mortal—and some of the fey, including a rookie catgirl and a bamboo dryad—from the fairies’ spell. “We have to hurry,” she remarked, as she snapped her fingers in the face of a dazed-looking older human. “If they have fairies patrolling, they must know someone’s coming. Or things are completely destabilizing.”

Kemuri patted the sword at his hip and nodded. Seng was already stomping towards the gate, the jami’s eyes peeled for any additional winged marauders. None yet—at least so far—but Kemuri respected Seng’s caution. The bigfooted lout.

“Be careful,” Komori said. The bakeneko hurried after Seng. Kemuri and the others rushed to catch up as they drew near the gate, which was currently ominously open.

“Why?” Seng asked, raising an eyebrow as she examined the gate. “Can’t you tell? The wards are down.”

A murmur went through the human Crows, but to Komori and the fey, this was not news. “I know that,” she said, drawing level with Seng next to the wall, “but we still aren’t sure exactly what—”

And Komori cut off abruptly. Her head jerked, as though a fly had startled her. Her lips moved, but no sound escaped them. She blinked rapidly.

She and Seng both swayed slightly. A split-second later, Kemuri felt it, too, and he gasped as the strange force washed over him like warm, molten butter.

Behind him, he heard the catgirl whimpering. The fairies on the ground were moaning, too weak-willed from the smoke to even hope to resist this new threat.

But Kemuri did try. He felt the force pressing on his mind, and with an angry puff on his hookah, he tried. Submission was unnatural to a gancanagh. He felt that soft, gentle grip, and stubbornly thrashed against it.

He heard the fairies whispering something in a chorus he couldn’t quite make out. Whatever it was, it made his knees weak.

“What...” The snail girl was panting. “What iiiiis...”

The catgirl was the first to break.

“I love Mommy,” he heard her whimper.

Oh. Kemuri swallowed. Oh, that sounded so... so...

“I love Mommy,” echoed Komori and several of the humans, their voices weak.

Kemuri’s eyes widened. He trembled, lunging towards a bamboo stalk to stay upright. “N-no...” the short, curvaceous fey gasped. It was such a petty, weak assault, like being blocked by a fence of twigs.

But he hadn’t been ready. The force had slipped past his guard while he’d been unaware, and now, like a person who’d already yielded too much ground in an arm wrestle, every inch of his mind was harder and harder to defend. He felt the force washing over him, and it felt so, so good to give in...

“I love Mommy,” the catgirl, dryad, Komori and the humans moaned in unison. “I love Mommy.”

“S-stop,” he cried, even as the hookah fell from his hands.

“I love Mommy.” Now he heard Seng’s voice join the chorus, dull and empty, along with the rest. He heard slick noises, and knew the catgirl had started to stroke herself—to edge herself, to make herself nice and mindless and obedient for Mommy. “I love Mommy.”

Kemuri whimpered, pinching one of his nipples. His lip quivered. “I...” The force washed all around him, warm, inviting. “I... I love...” He couldn’t fight. Couldn’t resist. It was too easy to give in. It was too late to resist. It was time to surrender. “I... love...”

* * *

Senya loved his Mommy.

He loved her so, so much.

He lay on the floor of the dining room, his body totally limp, totally helpless, and he loved that, too. Kitten was on her hands and knees between his legs, with his thick cock head in her mouth, the tip between her lips, daintily sucking and licking him, and he loved her and what she was doing to him, too.

He wasn’t sure how long she’d been sucking him like this, her eyes shining with glee. Minutes? Hours? Days? He felt like he hadn’t orgasmed in years. It was heaven. Kitten had thoughtfully given him a throw pillow to rest his head on, allowing him to stare as through entranced into her shining catlike eyes as she gently suckled his cock.

He could lie here forever. And he really, truly wanted to. With every sweet suck, every tender lick, every bat of her beautiful eyes, his mind melted just a little bit more for Kitten’s will.

He wasn’t sure why Mommy had decided to leave both of them here, but he had a feeling this was part of it. Mommy loved him being weak. When he’d resisted, she had wanted to purge that resistance, even if it meant losing Kitten’s support in the battle to come. Mommy wasn’t too smart when she was horny.

And, Senya thought proudly, neither was he.

He was just a dumb little bimbo toy for Mommy. For Kitten. For whoever wanted him.

And he knew now, deep down, the truth Sylvia had sucked out of him before: that this was not just some suggestion planted in him, or some shameful half-felt kink that these monsters had taken advantage of and twisted into something perverted.

It was what he truly, utterly wanted.

So Senya couldn’t fight. He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to be broken, to melt, to be a helpless, obedient plaything for his Mistresses. So he would let Mommy do whatever she wanted to him. He knew it would feel so, so good.

“Mm...” Kitten giggled, clearly seeing the look of happy defeat on his face. Her tongue lapped along his tongue like a cat drinking milk, and he gasped. He was so close. So, so close.

The trouble was, Senya found, understanding all of that didn’t help him. It didn’t help him break like he wanted to. In all the daydreams and forgotten scenes and, well, real seductions he had experienced on the Ranch, he had often subconsciously fantasized about being forced to accept the truth about his desires, and breaking totally, melting down completely. Bobbin or Brigitte or Tricin would explain to him what he knew, deep down inside, and he would be lost forever, a blissful little horny toy.

But it wasn’t happening. He knew what he wanted. But... he wasn’t mindless at all. Horny and obedient, yes, oh, gods, yes. But... he hadn’t melted.

Because, Senya realized, biting his lip to contain a squeak...

Even if his fate was to be lost to some temptress or another, to lose his friends, family and hobbies to his lusty, wretched fantasy, he had unfinished business here.

“K-Kitten,” he whispered. “I... I c-can’t resist.”

“Mm!” Kitten beamed at him and pulled off his cock to give it several affectionate kisses before resuming her gentle suckling.

“I... can’t fight you. I can’t resist a-a—ah!—anything you want, because... I want it too.” His voice was high-pitched and frail as she ran her claws tenderly over his inner thighs, gently tickling him. “I want to be an... oh, g-gods, an empty-headed bimbo, and you can turn me into one, and... and there’s nothing I c-can do about it. I want to beg you to do whatever you want to me.”

His cock throbbed as he said the words. His heart raced. Oh, how he wanted it. How he craved submission. And if this was the only way he could get it, then so be it. He would be a happy slave. “Because I want it. Oh, gods, I want all of it, Kitten.”

Kitten’s eyes had gone slightly foggy. She stared at him eagerly, and he could tell just how utterly horny she was, just how tempted she was, in spite of her orders, to just jump him right then and there and bounce on him until they were both squealing, leaking wrecks.

“But... but you don’t.” Senya’s voice trembled. “You don’t want this, Kitten.”

Kitten blinked. She gave a confused whine.

“Maybe a little bit,” he admitted, shivering as her relaxed expression returned and her tongue swirled around his cock. “But you... you don’t w-want this. You d-don’t deserve it. Kitten, please... please listen to your slave, your pet, your horny plaything.” He reached down and weakly petted her hair. “Please resist. Oh, please. Oh, please, please let your good boy c-convince you... you have to fight it, Kitten. Please. Fight it. Fight back, Valina.”

* * *

Outside the farmhouse, battle lines were being drawn.

Out the front door strolled Laca and Vinifera, the holstaur and her faithful wine dryad. Laca wore a mid-length frilly pink skirt and went otherwise naked, her massive, pale breasts on full display. Her silver hair was elegantly braided around her two curved bull’s horns, ad her hazel eyes gleamed with promise.

Waiting in the yard outside stood the lithe Bobbin, the brawny human stockman Jerrod, five straw-blonde scarecrows and, up in the sky, fifty buzzing fairies, cleverly concealed within a low-flying cloud that fooled no one.

Bobbin stood with one hand on her hip, her shag cut brown hair gleaming in the late light. The holstaur walked forward, a wide, indulgent smile on her face.

“Hello, Bobbi,” she cooed. In her hand, the calm, warm green glow of the Verdant Star flashed and glimmered between her fingers.

Bobbin smiled back coyly, wiggling her fingers a little in a mocking wave. “Hello, holstaur.”

“Aw.” The holstaur giggled. “Why not use my real name, Bobbi? I know you know it, Bobbi.”

Bobbin visibly swallowed. That old pet name still had an effect. So did the holstaur’s, which was why she was trying to avoid it.

“You’re finished,” she said at last. “Stop this now, before we have to spill any blood. There’s no way for you to win this. You’re outnumbered and outmaneuvered.”

“And you, sweet baby, are outgunned.” The holstaur held up the gem for emphasis, giving a coy grin. “And, um, Bobbi?”

“Yes, M—” The hob’s face went bright red as she cut herself off.

The holstaur’s smile widened. “Who do you love, Bobbi?”

And the gem’s energies flooded outward like a dam had just burst. Green warmth, tinged with gold, washed over Bobbin, Jerrod and the scarecrows in waves of sheer power. Up above, little squeals echoed in the cloud as the fairies, too, were hit.

Jerrod groaned and staggered. The scarecrows’ hands flew to their eyes, and they all started trembling.

But the bulk of the energies hit Bobbin. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. Her bottom lip was quivering. The hob tried to speak, but the waves just kept hitting her, until she could only gasp and whimper. Again and again they struck her, and each time, her stance wobbled. She was breathing heavily.

Her eyes went dull as she fell to one knee.

“I...” She swallowed. “I love...” Her eyes screwed shut in furious effort as she silenced the words. Instead, a long whine escaped the furry house fey.

“B-Bobbin,” Jerrod gasped, leaning on his greatclub for support, “I c-can’t... can’t...”

“Poor babies,” Mommy said, smiling widely. She grinned at the half-kneeling Bobbin, reaching up to squeeze one nipple until just a little bit of moisture came out. “Well Bobbi?” she cooed. “Who do you love?”

There was a long pause as the gem continued to throb.

“I...” Bobbin’s voice was quiet. Kittenish, even. Soft and weak. “I... love... Mommy.”

Mommy’s look was positively rapturous. She advanced, beaming, and cupped the hob by the chin. She licked her lips as the hob stared up into Mommy’s eyes, her own gaze dull and docile.

“Oh, my baby,” she cooed, “I know you do.”

“... s,” said Bobbin.

Mommy tutted, casting an amused glance at Jerrod, whose eyes were screwed shut as he, too, fell to one knee. “What was that?”

“I... love... Mommy’s...” Bobbi took a deep breath, then smiled brightly. “Stupid, slutty udders.”

Mommy blinked.

She reared back with a very un-motherly shriek as Jerrod’s cudgel came swinging directly at her head, followed in short order by Bobbin’s own sharp falchion slashing toward her ankles.

“I also love how confident poor Mommy can be,” Bobbin cooed, as the holstaur scrabbled back, “when she’s nice and dumb and horny. Now!

Laca whirled as she heard a shriek, and saw that behind her, Lady Vinifera was being engulfed in a swarm of sparkling fairies. The swarm was so thick, Laca couldn’t tell who was winning.

She turned back, eyes wide, as Bobbin tossed aside the sword and raised her hand, glowing with magical energies. “Silly Mommy,” she said sweetly, “has only just started to play with that toy of hers. It takes time, dumb hucow. A prepared victim can easily shrug it off if its user is inexperienced.”

Laca shivered, eying Bobbin’s hand with considerably more wariness than she had the sword. But she smiled. “Oh, well. You always had fun playing with crops and chains, but Mommy never needed toys to make her Bobbi behave, did she?”

Bobbin gritted her teeth as the scarecrows advanced alongside her. “When we’re through with you, just the word ‘toy’ is gonna make you melt like an ice cube in a succubus’s pussy.”

“Oh?” The holstaur laughed. “and what about when you’re through with them, darling?”

Bobbin blinked. “Eh?”

Bobbin!” shouted one of the scarecrows “There’s—YAAGH!

Bobbin’s head shot back.

The scarecrows and Jerrod whirled about to defend themselves as a band of cloaked fey and humans emerged from the hazelnut grove and charged at their ranks. The scarecrows brandished swords and kisses alike, desperately weaving to avoid the blades, smoke and assorted fey mischief of the brainwashed Crows.

Bobbin glared at Mommy, even as her heart pounded in her chest. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Mommy smiled and shook her head, even as her hand reached back up to her breast and started to stroke. “Oh, sweetie... when we’re finished playing today, neither will you!”

* * *

“Valina,” Senya whimpered, “oh, please, please, resist. Resist for your good boy. Please. Ah!” His hips bucked, but the near-orgasm was cut off before it could even start as the kitten stopped and pulled off, licking her lips. “Please!” he cried.

The catgirl had gotten careless, and so she waited for his arousal to die down a little before returning to edging her boy. As she waited, she smiled at him. “Silly Senya,” Kitten cooed. “Silly, horny boy!”

“Yes.” Senya shivered. “Silly, horny boy. But silly horny boy needs Mistress’s help. Mistress h-has to be strong for her plaything, yes?”

It came so easily. All of the submission, all of the self-degradation. Valina shivered at every word, and so did he. They both knew how right it sounded. They both knew it was what he deserved.

But Senya knew this was more than Valina deserved to go through. More than anyone deserved. “Valina must be strong,” he whimpered. “For her kittytoy. Please... please...”

Valina blinked.

After a long pause, she leaned down and gave the tip of his cock a tiny little lick; he jumped. Giggling, she gave another. And another. And another.

It only took eight licks for him to be rendered a squirming, whimpering mess.

“V-Valina!” he cried. “Oh, Valina! Oh, Mistress!”

She giggled, but did not speak. Just continued to lick. Down below, her fingers tickled his balls, and he moaned loudly.

Her tongue sped up. His gasps turned to short screams. “P-please,” he managed, “oh, fuck, I—Mistress—please—strong—”

She lathered his cock with slick saliva, spiraling her tongue around his throbbing, needy cock. She stared at it lovingly, then at him with equal affection. Her licks were getting longer. Wetter. And so were his moans.

And he realized, as her lips slipped over his head once more, that she was going to make him cum.

“Oh—” He trembled, the breath leaving him as she gave him one long slurp after another. “Oh, V—Val—”

She moaned loudly as her lips slid up and down his shaft. Her head was bobbing in his lap, and all the while she stared at him in total lust, lusting for that look in his eyes. The look of utter compliance. Utter need.

He stared into her eyes, and his lip quivered. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Her eyes sparkled with triumph.

He started to pant. Then, as her tongue started slowly swirling around his cock, to moan.

“Valina,” he managed, as she moaned again, “I—you—oh, fuck—oh, yes, I—please—yes—oh my—oh gods

With a giggle, the catgirl slid her lips all the way down to to the base of his shaft, deepthroating him with the hunger that only belonged to Kitten. And Kitten had him.

And Senya came. He squealed in submissive delight as pleasure flooded his system, his mind, as his cock throbbed and let burst its payload into her slurping mouth. He watched in rapturous awe as she guzzled it all down without even losing stride. He bucked and writhed, totally overwhelmed by her eager, sucking lips.

At last, the catgirl pulled back off with a satisfied sigh. She started licking and kissing his cock, cleaning him up with happy little mews and mms. Senya lay flat on the floor, his mind spinning. Spiraling. Deeper and deeper down with every lick, every kiss, every amused giggle and kittenish moan.

He loved Kitten.

Loved Kitten so, so much.

A stupid smile spread across his face, and his eyes drifted closed as sweet pleasure filled his mind. Loved her so, so, so much.

Would love her forever.

* * *

“Senya.”

His eyes fluttered, but did not open. He could tell Kitten was speaking to herself, not to him.

The catgirl’s voice was soft, wistful. “Senya,” she said again. “Such a... pretty name.”

Senya’s eyes opened.

Valina smiled down at him, then offered her hand.

Slowly, Senya’s groggy, lusty, needy, obedient brain wrapped itself around this gesture, and her words.

“You...” Senya stared at her hand in wonder, noticing how it was still slick with her and his juices. He reached forward and took it, his head still numb, still awash in the afterglow. “You were just playing with me.”

The catgirl giggled and hopped to her feet, tugging Senya up as well. She leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Senya tasted himself, and his knees went weak.

But she squeezed his hand. “Now, now,” Valina whispered. “Time for play later, Senya! If we start now, we’ll both be on the floor for...” Her cheeks colored slightly, and her eyes went misty a moment, before returning to focus. “I am barely up,” she said, her tone a bit more urgent. “And you are not quite even that, right?”

“R-right.” Senya had to resist the urge to automatically say, “Yes, Mistress.” But he did resist. He blinked at Valina, still a bit confused.

“Then I hope you have a plan.” The catgirl licked her lips. “Because Kitten is only barely satisfied. I can still feel her crawling around and making trouble.” Her eyes darted toward the door. “Mommy and Bobbi are out there. And Kitten really, really loved Mommy and Bobbi.”

Senya swallowed and nodded.

* * *

It all happened very fast.

Mier broke the silence first, firing her arrow off before anyone else had time to blink. She grinned with satisfaction as the arrow whizzed through the air and pierced into the shorter one’s—Sylvia’s—ankle. Sylvia shrieked.

Barely a second later, Swish leaped past her, screaming a fox’s warcry and swinging her sword in a wide arc. Lala barely had time to duck as the sword slashed right through where her neck had been.

Lata spun around Swish in an elaborate path to flank with Lala, evading a slash, and made to leap onto Swish’s back—

There was a crackle in the air. The Thriae fell flat on her face.

Her feet were glued to the ground by some sort of purplish webbing, like from a spider who had only eaten blueberries. She rubbed her head, stunned.

Mier gave Anya an approving nod. She nocked another arrow and let it fly, noticing that Sylvia had fallen back to the cottage door, cradling her wound. Lightweight, she thought.

Lala cut the arrow out of the air with her index finger, which blazed with golden magic. “Like, fuck off, sweetie!” she sang, and pointed at Mier with the glowing finger.

“Bluff!” Mier barked, but too late—Swish lunged to intercept with her sword. Lala dropped the pointing hand as her other hand lunged for Suisshu’s belly, and Swish’s eyes widened as golden wires burst out and wrapped around her midriff. The wires yanked her back towards a nearby shrub and rapidly bound her into it, heedless of her shrieks.

Glaring, Mier loosed two more arrows at Lala—only to see them cut out of the air by Lata, up on her hands and knees, still stuck to the ground.

“Hey, fox!” Anya ran towards the kitsune, her hands spinning, gathering magical energy for a spell. “We’re cool, right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before loosing her spell. The bush trembled, shook, and... turned into a small newt.

The newt landed on the ground with a squeak, looked around with alarm, and quickly scurried away under a nearby stone.

The Thriae, Anya, Mier and Swish stared after it.

“That was supposed to turn it into reeds,” Anya said, looking perplexed.

“Oh, yeah,” Sylvia grunted, still on the ground and struggling with her minor injury, “this place’s got a really strong newt energy. They’re my number-one byproduct.”

“Huh. Neat.”

“Yeah, I have a whole pond of them out back. They’re cute. Super-duper poisonous, though.”

“Oh, yeah, they would be.” Without looking, Anya raised her arm toward Sylvia and fired off another mass of violet webbing. It smacked Sylvia’s head against the wall and instantly glued her to it. Sylvia shrieked in indignation.

Lata struggled to her feet, but Mier advanced, training two arrows on the entangled Thriae. “Don’t even,” she said warningly. “You are not fast enough.”

Her every instinct told her to shoot. Shoot now. But she hesitated.

Meanwhile, Lala took a step back, eying Swish’s blade warily. The Thriae gave a little shrug, her breasts bouncing in her tank top as she did so, and set her hips cockily to one side. “Well, gosh,” she said, pouting, “This, like, sucks.”

Anya was chanting softly, weaving another spell. She seemed slightly puzzled about something, though.

Mier drew nearer, her arrows trained to Lata’s head. Shoot. her mind said urgently. SHOOT! Before she...

Mier stared confusedly at the Thriae, whose diaphanous wings were beating rapidly as she sat up.

Swish glanced at Mier, blinking. “Swish,” she said, her voice raising, “why aren’t you—

Mier stared at Lata, blinking slowly. There was a strange buzz in the back of her head. Her head felt... buzzy. Fuzzy. She blinked again.

Mier!”

Awww.” Lala’s voice had taken on a babying tone. “Is our cute little shapeshifter having probbums? Maybe she needs Mommy Lala to kiss those probbums better?”

“Um.” Mier shook herself, noticing Swish’s panicked expression. The kitsune was noticing the hum, too, now, and her hands had flown to her ears.

Mier tried to remember what she had to do as her arms dropped to her sides. She knew what to do here. The buzzing was... was doing something. Something bad.

She had to shapeshift. Had to... had to make it so she couldn’t...

“Poor shifter,” Lala cooed, her wings vibrating with increasing speed as the hum filled Mier’s head like crackly cotton candy. “She feels so confused, doesn’t she?”

Mier had to shift. Had to shift. She shook herself, head ringing. “I... I’m...” Even her own voice sounded distant beneath the loud buzzing all around her. Unimportant.

Mier swayed a little. Had to shift forms. Had to do it now. But what to? What... what was she...

“So fuzzy, Lala sang, giggling.

Mier blinked.

Working purely off instinct, she shifted her shape to match the image that had just entered her head.

Instantly, the buzzing grew ten times louder, and Mier fell to her knees with a moan. It droned in her head like a flood of roaring static. She wrapped her fuzzy claws around herself and whimpered, overwhelmed, almost drooling.

Had to serve. Had to obey. Had to be a good slut. Good slut. Good slut.

Lala sounded shocked, but her tone quickly turned to delight. “Well!” she exclaimed. “What a sweet, silly little batgirl we’ve caught! Ooh, we haven’t played with a batgirl in centuries. This is gonna be fun.”

In defiant response, Mier fell over into the fetal position and whimpered as her pussy started to flow.

* * *

Swish clutched her hands to her ears, groaning as she watched her lover fall to the ground—now in the very same bat form they had had some fun with together just two nights ago. She bit her lip, unable to suppress a bit of guilt for putting that image into Mier’s head.

But no matter. She... she could fight this. Mier couldn’t. The fox staggered upright, her own fey resistance struggling desperately against the pounding fey enchantments, and turned in time to see Lala crawling over towards a swiftly crumpling Anya. She had somehow procured a little bowl, and was actively pinching her nipples to squirt mead into as she crept up on the mage.

Oh, poor Anya. Despite their adversity, Swish felt an outpouring of sympathy for the poor girl, who was biting her lip so hard it was bleeding to keep from begging as the buzzing filled her mind. Her eyes were screwed shut, and as her knees slowly buckled, Swish could tell she was totally, blissfully unaware of the encroaching danger behind her.

Swish hurried over and grabbed Anya’s hand. Confused, Anya struggled, but weakly, as Swish pulled her out of the trapped Thriae’s reach. “Anya,” she managed, “w-we have to...”

“Oh, foxy!” cooed a honeyed voice. Swish’s stomach lurched as she felt soft, smooth hands wrapping around her from behind, pushing up her shirt and caressing her belly. “Forgetting someone, are we?” Lala whispered in Swish’s ear.

Swish’s lips quivered as she felt the buzzing intensify, and realized it was being focused on her now. She was the last. Anya’s hand slipped from Suisshu’s as she fell to the ground, and Swish heard the mage pulling her robes up and frantically toying with herself. BatMier was mewling and squealing as only a bat fey could, too incapacitated even to masturbate or beg.

She smelled sweetness, and heard wet sounds, and knew that Lala was no doubt stroking herself, getting her fingers nice and wet for Swish to lick off.

Oh, that sounded so nice. Swish let out an involuntary whine. She remembered well the last time she’d been like this—staring at a gorgeous mind controlled woman as her tormentor stood behind her and teased Suisshu into submitting as well. Only this was no reckless, thoughtless Balabar, easily undone by arrogance. And there was no Larya or Alrek to save her.

Her head felt so full. So full of nonsense. Wonderful, fuzzy nonsense.

She smelled the honey, and knew it was being presented to her. She licked her lips, and her lips slowly parted against her will, permitting the fingers to slip inside...

But they didn’t.

For a long moment, as Swish submitted to the incessant buzzing, nothing at all happened. She felt Lala clutching her, heard the steep breaths...

With a start that snapped her from the haze, Swish realized that Lala was being fucked. Slowly. Methodically.

And for some reason, the Thriae wasn’t doing a thing about it.

Lata didn’t seem to notice. She was facing away, watching Mier and giggling, clearly confident that Swish was lost for good.

Lala’s gasps started to get louder. And then she was moaning.

And then she released Swish, and Swish tumbled to the ground with a muffled cry.

The kitsune staggered onto her hands and knees, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the remaining cobwebs. Why wasn’t Sylvia saying anything? Why had Lala...

Swish looked up.

She swallowed. Her three fluffy tails flicked behind her with excitement.

Lala was clutched by a nubile young woman wearing a peasant’s garb. The young lady had two fingers inserted into Lala’s cunt, while two rested upon her forehead.

Over the tall Thriae’s shoulder, Nun beamed at Swish. “You are needing help,” the enchantress whispered, and winked.

Slowly, Swish nodded, grinned, and walked over to where Mier and Lata lay..

Trying not to relish the violence too much—she was, after all, past those days now—she drew back and kicked the earthbound Lata in the head.

Hard.

* * *

Back at the farmhouse, a strange and horrid battle blazed through hearts and minds like kindling.

The scarecrows were quick, inhumanly strong, and canny, and they dodged and wove easily around the Crows in spite of their small numbers. One would feint around a target while another would spring into view, grab the target, and plant a kiss on their lips before they knew what hit them. If the target was human, they would generally drop right there, and be spared further attentions—they would be claimed more fully later, of course.

If they were fey, on the other hand, it sometimes took more than one kiss. Sometimes, the scarecrows would resort to tickling, and this worked quite well on those fey who unwisely went half-naked. A dryad collapsed in a giggling fit as her scarecrow foe ran spidery fingers beneath her arms and covered her face in kisses. A jami faced off warily against another scarecrow, who was plainly trying to get at the jami’s large, sensitive feet.

Meanwhile, the Crows fought viciously. A sazae-oni girl had leaped atop Jerrod, and the stockman was struggling, moaning, as the snail girl smothered him in wet, sticky licks and kisses that popped lewdly and made him cry out. The bakeneko was dueling a pair of scarecrows in frantic combat, swinging her blades in wide arcs as she tried to get her very long tail between a scarecrow’s legs to work mischief.

The gancanagh leaped and tumbled, blowing out great gusts of smoke like a dragon as the fairies not occupied with Scarlet flew after him. A few dropped from the air, but there were so, so many fairies, and he only had so much breath. Each time he stopped to take another puff of his hookah, they got a bit closer.

But Bobbin wasn’t worrying about any of that. She couldn’t. She had to save all of her thought for one very precise concern.

“There’s a good cow,” Bobbi cooed, weaving her fingers about in lewd patterns. “Good, good cow, nice and empty, so horny, so nice...”

Mommy trembled, biting her lip—likely struggling to ignore the phantom touches Bobbi was creating along her breasts. She manged a smile as the gem sparkled in her grip. “Silly little one,” she cooed back. “So nice and needy for Mommy! Do you remember crawling across the floor, begging for the privilege of suckling like a good girl?”

Bobbin swallowed, her breath choked and heavy as the images flashed through her. She struggled to maintain her spell. “Hucow feels her slut udders being squeezed and played with, doesn’t she?” she said, giggling. “Poor thing. She just needs someone to play with her, doesn’t she?”

“Sweet, silly Bobbi is so thirsty...”

“Hucow needs to be milked,” Bobbi purred, licking her lips, “and she knows how to get that, doesn’t she? The little slut.”

“Bobbi wants her Mommy,” Mommy whispered, swaying back and forth as her breasts jiggled. Bobbin watched them, watched Mommy playing with herself. “Come into my arms, baby girl. Let Mommy take care of you.”

“Hucows love being on their knees,” Bobbi sang, twirling her fingers in the air and grinning as Mommy’s eye followed them, “love being obedient, love having their slut udders pulled and played with.”

“Bobbi’s such a nice little slut for Mommy.” The holstaur pinched her pinches, gasping. “Loves to be a nice slut for my tits. Mommy’s needy titslave.”

“Mo—Hucow’s tits are smarter than Mommy is, aren’t they?” Bobbi said cheerfully, running her phantom touches along Mommy’s nipples, guiding Mommy’s hands to be more aggressive, more directly pleasuring. “Your tits are telling you to be a good girl. Isn’t that a good idea?”

“Good idea to obey my tits,” Mommy said, her finger twirling in spirals around her nipple, drawing Bobbi’s gaze inward. “Good idea to be a good girl for Mommy.

Bobbi’s head was starting to sink. She could barely hear the battle around her, could barely even think about it. Right now, the only things that mattered in her world were her, Mommy, and Mommy’s beautiful breasts. Had to fight. Had to win. “Is Mommy a good girl for her tits?” Bobbin cooed, giving Mommy’s nipples a tweak. She giggled as the holstaur gasped. “Aw, she is! Her tits want her to moan.”

She stuck her tongue out and licked the air, and barely contained her laughter as the holstaur trembled and shook, her face as red as the sunset. She knew the holstaur wouldn’t be able to fully lactate—not until someone else licked her or kissed her or suckled her in reality. A phantom tongue wouldn’t cut it.

Oh, gods, Bobbi wanted to suckle and be a good girl. She took in a deep breath, struggling to press her advantage. “Moan, Mommy,” she cooed. “Your breasts are so, so smart and sexy, and they want you to be a good girl so they can be milked!”

“Milked...” The holstaur gave a slow, lazy smile, and for a moment, Bobbin thought she’d won.

Then, Mommy sank to a sitting position and held up one breast. “Dribblecow needs to be milked,” she said sweetly, eyelashes fluttering. “Slutty Dribblecow needs her Master to milk her!”

Bobbi’s eyes widened. Her legs quaked, her lip quivered, and for a moment, reason and control escaped her. “Oh... oh...

She hadn’t been allowed to use that pet name in years. Oh, years ago, when they had been more equal, when Bobbin had been able to domme Mommy now and again... but then Bobbi had been fixed, and she couldn’t call Mommy Dribblecow anymore, but now... oh, fuck...

“Dribblecow,” she whimpered, trying with all her might not to fall to her knees and crawl to the holstaur’s lap, barely maintaining the spell to weakly stroke the holstaur’s beautiful, milky breasts, “be a good slut...

Good slut for Master,” Mommy whined. “Please suckle your obedient Dribblecow, Master!”

“Nnnn...” Bobbin’s pussy clenched. She rubbed her arm, desperately trying to keep from lowering her pants and stroking herself. Her fingers only managed to maintain a little phantom tickle now. “Obey... obey...”

“Oh, please,” Mommy cried, “please suckle Dribblecow, Master! Oh, you simply must—“

“N-naughty cows can’t talk,” Bobbi managed.

Mommy blinked. She bit her lip, eyes glittering in frustration.

But both she and Bobbi remembered quite well that Dribblecow stopped talking when Master told her to.

The struggle was evident in her eyes. But Bobbin’s breathing regularized a little, even as she watched Mommy slowly, steadily bounce her breasts together, imagined herself sinking in, suckling those breasts...

She licked the air.

Mommy whimpered and started pinching her nipples all-the-more desperately, her facade of false-obedience breaking down into pure, honest need. “Moo,” she whimpered. “Moooo!

“That’s right,” Bobbi whispered. She straightened, still panting. “That’s right. That’s my good Dribblecow.”

MOOOO!

Bobbin licked the air a few more times, and worked a quick spell to renew the phantom spells.

She giggled as the holstaur shook, trembled, and finally collapsed onto her side.

“Silly little hucow,” Bobbi said in sweet mockery. “I guess she finally did what her tits told her to, huh, Mommy?”

She bit her lip. Damn it. I need to stop calling her that.

The holstaur’s eyes cleared a little, and she finally broke out of the Dribblecow trance. She rocked back and forth in the grass and started to cry out, “Come to Mommy, c-come to Mommy, come to Mommy...”

Bobbi grinned sadistically, resisting the niggling need. She was horny, and she licked her lips at the sight of the squealing domme.

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you, Mommy,” she said sweetly. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. You can just be a good, sweet, melty hucow for me. Doesn’t that sound nice?’

“Ah—mm—oh, ooh, oo-obey—“

“Come along, then, Mommy.” Bobbi smirked. “Stand up.”

There was a pause. Bobbi reinforced the command with a little phantom tickle between Mommy’s legs, and relaxed the tongues a little bit.

Shuddering, whimpering, the holstaur managed to rise to her feet. She was cupping her breasts, eyes dazed with needy pleasure as the phantom tongues continued their merciless assault—slower, but no less endless.

“Come here, sweetie,” Bobbi purred, curling a finger. “Be a good slut, now.”

Slow, haltingly, the holstaur put one foot in front of herself.

Then another.

Then another.

Bobbin’s heart was pounding. She noticed that the stone had fallen into the dirt, and grinned. Almost done. She just had to finish this business here.

The holstaur stood before her, head bowed slightly, shivering and crying as the tongues continued along her breasts. Amused, Bobbi idly added a little persistent finger to tease at the holstaur’s clit, enjoying how the fey’s cries changed octaves slightly.

She reached forward, smirking, and cupped the holstaur’s chin. “Look at me, hucow,” she purred.

Slowly, the holstaur obeyed. Her silver hair was messy, her lip was quivering, and her eyes were glazed over with lust. She was Bobbin’s. Bobbin’s once more.

Bobbin... had won.

“I think,” Bobbi said in mock-thoughtfulness, “we’ll need to make sure you don’t have so much time to be lonely next time. Isn’t that right?”

“I... I...” The holstaur tried to speak, but Bobbin put a finger to her lips and smiled.

“Now, now,” she cooed. “Mustn’t talk when Master is talking.”

“Mm.” The holstaur looked at her with pathetic need. Mommy had submitted. Mommy had melted.

“Yes,” Bobbi continued, giggling, “poor thing, you must have been so lonely. All you really wanted was a little sucking at your slutty tits. Isn’t that right?”

“Mm.” The holstaur hesitated, then nodded slightly. She was still lost in Bobbin’s eyes.

Bobbin smirked. “I thought so.” Her hand reached down and stroked the underside of Mommy’s breast, eliciting a high-pitched, pleading keen. “I know just what this sweet hucow needs.”

“Mm?”

And the holstaur dared to look hopeful.

Bobbin giggled. “Oh, yes! We’ll have to have two nice, big pumping flowers set up, won’t we?”

The holstaur’s eyes widened. She tried to shake her head, to lean away, but the madly giggling Bobbin held her head steady, leaned in close.

“They will milk you,” she whispered, “twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Endlessly. No minds to break except your own, no ‘good boys’ or ‘good girls’. You will be lost in those plants.”

“Nn. Nn.” But the holstaur was spellbound, lost in the horrifying picture Bobbi was weaving.

“And then?” Bobbin leaned closer. “Every now and then, very rarely, I will visit you. And you will be so pathetically grateful, won’t you?”

“Nn...” But the holstaur’s eyes sang of the delicious truth.

“I will play with you,” Bobbin hissed, stroking the holstaur’s breast possessively, “and you will do everything I tell you, be such a good, good girl. Such a good Dribblecow. Everything I ask will be your life’s purpose, every dirty little perverted whisper I utter, all to get me to stay just a few minutes longer.” She grinned. “And when I am done, you will go back to the flowers, and it will all start over again.”

Bobbin leaned in until her lips brushed the holstaur’s. The hob whispered, “And you already love it, don’t you?”

There was a long silence. In that moment, Bobbi—still half-tranced by the holstaur’s earlier efforts—couldn’t hear a single cry, a single clang of steel against steel, not even the shifting of feet in the grass. All she heard was the holstaur’s rapid heartbeat.

“Yes,” Laca whispered, trembling. “Oh... oh, yes, Bobbi...”

Bobbin’s own heart started to race. Oh. Oh my gods. Oh. My. Gods. “Get on your knees,” she husked, trying with all her might not to shove her hands beneath her own short pants and jill herself off right then and there.

Laca’s knees started to bend. Bobbin’s pussy clenched, fireworks going off in her mind at what she was witnessing.

And then a very small, very soft voice cut through it all and reached Bobbin’s ears.

“Bobbin.”

Bobbin looked up to see Senya, totally naked on the farmhouse steps, his cock fully erect. Kitten trailed behind him. His eyes were heavy-lidded.

He held in his hands a glowing green gemstone.

And Bobbin smiled. “Oh, you silly, naughty little toy.”

* * *

Senya was a toy. A very silly toy.

His hand seemed to vibrate as he clutched the surprisingly cool gemstone. Despite its surface temperature, he felt unbelievably hot. A sauna-like haze had settled over him, blanketing his poor, needy, so-long-teased body in warmth.

Senya understood now.

It had seemed so obvious when he’d seen the gem on the ground. His breath had caught in his throat. He hadn’t even thought; he had reached down. Here was the answer, the way to save everyone, to take control. Something about the gem had looked so... so pleasant. So inviting. So tempting.

And now he understood why.

Senya was a slave.

The awareness rushed through him like a warm wind, heady and sweet and thick with flowers’ scents. He smiled, sighing in relief. He was a slave. A good slave, who would obey, who would submit. That was all he needed to be.

The gem didn’t serve its wielder. Not any wielder. How silly Senya had been to think he was as strong as Mommy, that he could even begin to master its depths. Senya was just a silly slave. He was meant to serve, not command.

And he would serve. Senya sighed in relief as the images drifted by like driftwood in the ocean, warm waves rippling against him as he swayed and sank to his knees.

The Ranch needed a plaything. A toy for the prisoners to keep them happy. He saw Bobbin leading him by a leash, dropping him into the arms of the fleece sprites, the alraune, the Thriae. He saw himself being slowly wrapped within Tricin’s sensuous coils, and moaned softly under his breath as he saw that spellbound look of pure joy in his eyes. He saw the fairies toying with him as he lay tied down to the ground, as the Thriae poured mead down his throat—after all, it wasn’t as though he could break any more than he already had. He would be useful. He would be enjoyed.

Senya would be a good slave.

And wasn’t that really all he needed?

He heard Bobbin speaking, and didn’t understand a word she was saying, and still he loved her. He couldn’t not love her—this gem seemed to be opening his mind like a blooming flower to the world, and it was all he could do to stare at her in adoration. He knew she was saying exactly what he saw, anyways.

Explaining his new role. Oh, how far he had come.

Bobbin knew what he was good for. From that patronizing smirk, she knew exactly what he was meant to be used for. Senya could already feel the collar round his neck.

He heard Valina shrieking in his ear, felt her shaking him. He looked at her in a haze of easy submission. The catgirl looked scared, which bothered him. But he couldn’t remember why. Wasn’t submission the most wonderful thing in the world?

He reached forward, still smiling, and put a finger to her lips. She fell silent abruptly, seeming shocked.

Senya sensed what the gem wanted, then. It wanted to show her, as it had shown him. And it was so easy. He would be a good boy.

He leaned in and allowed the gem free reign. The warm glow blossomed in his mind and spread to her eyes. It was so easy. Natural. Almost as though the gem had been waiting for someone like him.

Valina fell back, panting. She started at him, blinking.

“Oh,” he heard her say, as if she was speaking from down a long, long tunnel. “Oh. Oh. Mew.

Senya beamed. He was so happy to help.

Nearby, he noticed—sensed—many scores of fluttering wings, beating hearts. He looked up into the swarm of flashing fairies, and as he felt the gem pressing him to obey, he yielded once again.

It was so easy, he realized, to give in. So easy to just give up. So easy to be obedient. For everyone to be obedient.

The fairies started to drop out of the air, landing softly in the grass with little squeaks.

He looked proudly up at Bobbin, who still stood over the half-kneeling holstaur. Bobbin smiled down at him in triumph, and hissed something he did not understand but knew he would obey. He would be a good boy. A good slave.

Smiling in bliss, he felt the gem press again, and again yielded. He lay down in the soft grass, his cheek brushing up against a masturbating fairy’s hair, and clutched the Verdant Star to his chest. It wanted so much. So, so much.

And Senya realized he could give it. Give it all. Joy soared in his heart as he realized that, and without even hesitating, he gave in completely. It was how this had all been meant to end from the beginning.

Senya was so, so glad he had come to the Ambrosia Ranch.

“I...” Bobbin’s voice. “Cracked, confused. “I don’t... oh...”

Senya smiled up at her, gave a long, happy sigh, and willed the gem outwards. He did not have to push—he simply guided it where it wanted to go. Intuitively, he knew that only he could be such a perfect guide. Only he knew how to be good, to yield, to serve. He was a very good boy.

Bobbin shivered. She raised a hand towards him, whispering something under her breath.

Bobbin looked scared.

Mommy was moaning. Mommy was begging. And Bobbin looked down and saw Mommy’s eyes.

And Mommy’s big, milky breasts.

Senya nearly came as he saw that look enter Bobbin’s eyes. Slowly, but without much hesitation at all, the hob sank to her knees.

“I can’t,” Bobbi whimpered, leaning in, guided by Mommy’s needy hands. “I—I can’t...”

“Please,” Mommy whined, kissing Bobbi’s forehead. “p-p-please...”

Both their eyes glowed a radiant verdant energy as Bobbin sank into Mommy’s arms and locked her lips around a nipple and began to slowly suckle.

All around, the battle was drawing to a close. Senya looked around happily as scarecrows collapsed into the arms of snail girls and humans and lost themselves in lust. The fairies were clustering in tiny little orgy piles. Miss Scarlet had wrapped her arms around a wine dryad as they both sank to their knees, begging one another for more.

He had been a good, obedient boy.

As Kitten reappeared in his frame of vision, slowly climbing into his lap with a happy smile, he leaned back into the grass and let the catgirl take him.

* * *

Dribblecow.

Hucow.

Laca.

Laca.

Laca blinked.

The holstaur looked down at the whimpering hob in her clutches. Bobbin’s eyes had gone glassy, and were already slowly closing as Bobbi’s lips worked mindlessly, drinking down Laca’s addictive milk.

Laca stared in wonder. It had been so, so long since her baby Bobbi had looked so... peaceful.

All of the sadistic plans she’d had for Bobbi—the teasing, the tickling, the denial—melted away in mere seconds.

She found herself stroking Bobbin’s hair, cooing soft words of encouragement, as she looked around her. All around, the fey were lost in lust. The fairies were fucking each other with wild abandon, dear little Senya lay in the grass as the kitten mindlessly bounced in his lap, her cries rising with every bounce, and the fey Crows nad scarecrows were pretty much putty in each other’s clutches.

The humans were barely even that. Many just lay on their knees, eyes still glazed, not yet recovered from the effects of the Star.

The Star that now lay at Senya’s feet as he moaned.

Ah. Laca raised an eyebrow and giggled, even as she bit her lip to manage the intense waves of pleasure coming from Bobbi’s wonderful suckling. She clutched her lover tight, as though she would never let her go.

Because she wouldn’t. Not ever. Laca knew now that even if she ever let Bobbi stop nursing, she would never let Bobbi go far. She knew that now. She would... she would get bottles, she would set up tubes, brainwash another holstaur to keep Bobbi company.

Anything to keep her darling Bobbi sedated forever. Laca beamed in adoration down at the skinny, trembling fey in her lap, and kissed her forehead again. “Poor thing,” she cooed. “It’s a good thing for you that Mommy is so very forgiving.”

Bobbin whimpered and whined. The effects of the gem were fading, but the milk... oh, the milk was another matter. Laca giggled.

The holstaur slowly rose to her feet, cradling Bobbi in her arms with ease. She surveyed the battlesite.

“Come on, now, Bobbi,” she cooed in the hob’s ear. “This ranch is too much fuss, isn’t it?”

“Mmm...”

“I think...” Laca mused, licking her lips, “we will take a small group. Leave the rest.” She strolled over and reached down, stroking Kitten’s hair. The catgirl moaned, but could not stop bouncing. “Come, my darlings,” Laca cooed.

The pair started to slow. They stared up at her, eyes wide.

Laca wasn’t going to get greedy. Not for now. Bobbi, Kitten and Senya. Let the rest of the Ranch rot, but she was not giving up these three.

“That’s right,” Laca purred, as Kitten visibly shivered, as Senya licked his lips. “Come to Momm—”

“Excuse me, Miss.”

Laca’s eyes bulged. The holstaur whirled around—

—in time to receive a cloud of sparkling dust that sent her reeling back into the grass. Reality seemed to slow down, somehow, and she was reduced to staring up confusedly at the sky as sparkles danced around her, captivating her.

Struggling to focus, Laca craned her head and looked up, over her massive breasts (and the hob suckling them).

Around forty cloaked figures had gathered along the path, all wearing colorful crow masks.

At the forefront stood a golden-eyed naked kitsune. She appeared to be the one who’d fired off the powder.

The speaker was a young woman in bardic raiment, her jaw set in some kind of short-term splint, leaning heavily on a quarterstaff. The bard quirked an eyebrow, gesturing back to the masked figures behind her. “These fine people would like to have a word with whoever’s in charge here.”

Mommy’s last lucid memory before she blacked out was the bard looking over her and Bobbi with clear skepticism.

“Or, well, the closest you get to that, I guess.”

* * *