The Ghosts

The Ghosts

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” the Templar said mockingly while helping Kitten climb down from the coach.

Kitten rolled her eyes, accepted her valise, and walked up the path to the Haunted Mansion without another glance at her escort. The Haunted Mansion was neither a mansion nor haunted, just a rickety old townhouse in a once posh part of town. She took in the peeling paint and cracked windows and the battered mansard roof, missing rather too many shingles, like a mouth with lost teeth. She stepped onto the sagging porch and marched up to the battered old door which opened itself with a frustrated squeal. “This ought to be fun,”Kitten mused, because while it might not be haunted, the house was full of Ghosts.

Kitten skipped lightly through the threshold and into a sad little foyer, “Hullo? Is anyone home?”

“In here,” called a bored voice from an open doorway to her left. Kitten peaked inside to see a squalid office with four desks, only two of which were occupied. Kitten nimbly placed her valise on an abandoned desk and smiled at her new coworkers. “I’m Kitten,” she said while doing a little curtsy.

“And what do you want?” Asked the man in the office. He was tall and muscular with cropped blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed simply in a soldier’s tunic and trousers with his sleeves rolled up to show off the faded blue Templar runes tattooed on his arms. 

“That’s Farmer,” said the other office occupant, a rail thin woman dressed in a frumpy white blouse and loose purple skirt. “I’m Willow.”

“Oh!” Kitten said brightly. “Why are you green?” Because Willow had emerald green skin and a frizzy mop of dark green hair pulled back in a loose bun.

The green woman frowned, her thin mouth a displeased line. “There was an accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Kitten asked innocently.

“The magical kind,” Willow said crossly. Which was fair, Kitten supposed, since it was an embarrassing little tale. Willow had been a promising young Alchemist once, not much of an Adept, but good at the benchtop. She’d been working on distilling the essence of magic into a purified substance, and had actually made some promising progress in Kitten’s opinion. Which was a shame, in a way, since magic rendered physical was tremendously unstable. Willow Branch’s little experiment had destroyed most of a guild laboratory, caused sundry bodily harm, and left Willow permanently colored green.

“And why not have it fixed?” Kitten asked.

“Maybe I like it.” 

“What do you want?” The man, Farmer, demanded again.

“You must hate it here,” Kitten said turning her amused gaze to the former Templar. Disgraced, really, since Benjamin Farmer had failed to resist a fairly basic Charm spell which had allowed thieves to carry off some quite precious treasures from the Arcanum Historic.

“We all hate it here,” Farmer replied, crossing his thick forearms across his chest. “But what do you want?”

Kitten smiled widely and threw out her hands, “I work here! I’m the newest Ghost!”

“Delightful,” Willow said.

***

Fox flipped open another tome and began the process of rooting out vile Necromancy. Given the spellbook belonged to a first year Academy student this made it likely a futile exercise. He sighed and rubbed his face, resigned to another day of reading poorly formulated cantrips.

“Smithrite, please.” He glanced at his office mate and saw her glaring at him.

“What?”

“We’ve discussed this,” Esme Asmodian’s sharp purple eyes simmered with displeasure. “No sighing in the office.” She made fists of her narrow hands, “It’s distracting.”

“Sorry.” 

Fox stifled another sigh. You’d think Esme would welcome a distraction, given that he was rooting out verboten spells in children’s books and she was checking alchemy ledgers for illegal ingredients. A little camaraderie and commiseration would go a long way to making this whole situation less miserable. Esme caught him staring and scowled, and Fox quickly looked back at his work. You’d think she was still possessed by that demon, he thought miserably. 

“Hullo fellow Ghosts!” Said a far too joyful voice.

Fox’s stomach dropped as he saw the owner of the voice. “Catherine Mazorubeus…”

The woman’s pretty face curled into a smile, “Fox Smithrite.” 

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a small voice. He knew Kitten Mazorubeus, slightly, but in the worst possible way. The beautiful young woman with the black hair and mischievous golden eyes was the very architect of his disgrace and banishment to the Haunted Mansion. Kitten bit her lip and studied him like a small and helpless creature, and he hated himself for the little thrill it caused. He knew she was trouble, but those eyes and that face and that body in that dress… he shook his head. “How is your mother?”

“Recovered,” she said as if she didn’t care. “Mostly.”

Recovered from being turned into a dog. 

By the wildly powerful Transmutation prodigy Fox Smithrite.

On a dare from Kitten Mazorubeus.

The spoiled daughter of High Archmage Mazorubeus.

“She still barks sometimes and will involuntarily chase a ball when thrown,” Kitten said happily. “And she has a most unnatural affinity for curs.”

Fox shivered, it was probably his good fortune to have only been banished to the Haunted Mansion instead of disintegrated outright. “Oh…”

“Leave Smithrite alone,” said Esme. “Kicking such a pathetic creature is hardly sporting.”

“Esme Asmodian,” Kitten purred, “how the mighty have… Fallen…”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?’

Fox squirmed in his chair, said a little prayer to the Patron of Cowards. His fuck up, while rather legendary, had been written off as broadly harmless and generally amusing, except of course by the High Archmage. Esme’s troubles had been significantly more dire, what with the Demon possession and ensuing rampage, fornication, and property destruction. With one poorly drawn salt circle she’d gone from a shining example of a young Wizardess to a perfect example of why the Templar were a grim necessity. One extremely bloody exorcism later and Esme was a Ghost, probably for life.

“Just an observation,” Kitten said merrily. 

A loud thump sounded from the ceiling and a voice shrieked, “Catherine Mazorubeus! Come to my office at once before you get yourself exploded!” Another thump, “And Smithrite and Asmodian! Back to work you lazy shits!”

“Coming Aunty Beverly!” Kitten sang. She glanced back over a ravishing shoulder, “Oh, Fox? I do so look forward to spending more time with you…”

Kitten skipped out the door and Fox sighed. 

This time Esme didn’t scold him.

***

“What in the hells did I do to deserve this bullshit?” 

“I’m happy to see you too Aunty Beverley.”

“I’m not your bloody Aunt,” Lady Vithgoth growled, “And for the foreseeable future you will refer to me as Yes Mistress.”

“Yessss Mistress…” Kitten moaned.

Lady Vithgoth, Goth but never to her face, pinched her nose, “I take it back, just Boss will suffice.”

“Yessss Boss…” Kitten sensually licked her lips.

Goth sighed, “Which brings us back to my original question: why the fuck are you here?”

“I pissed off daddy again.”

A raised eyebrow and a shuffle of antiquated, stained, and badly mended robes, “And?”

“And I perhaps unleashed a plague of Imps inside the High Tower.” Kitten grinned, “It was very funny!”

“I bet. And so I am to babysit you for his High Archmageship for the foreseeable future? To what end?” Because they both knew that real consequence would never touch the High Archmage’s troublesome daughter. 

“I believe he wants this place to scare me straight.”

“Good luck with that,” Goth said to herself. “Run along and join the other lost causes. Tell Willow to keep you busy.”

“And tell your father he’s a fatuous arsehole!”

***

Willow dropped a stack of scrolls onto Kitten’s desk, “You are to read these and look for cryptic references of Demon worship.”

Willow watched Kitten unroll a scroll and frown in puzzlement, “This is a concert broadsheet?”

“Some high ranking Templar has got it into their head that bards are performing the Devil’s music.”

Willow giggled, “That’s preposterous!”

“I’m sure they have their reasons,” Farmer grumbled from the far side of the office with the sparkling intelligence of an obedient hound. You can kick the Templar out of the Order but you can’t kick the stupid out of their head. Willow smirked as Kitten rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, well,” Willow allowed, “Ours is not to debate the wisdom of our tasks, it’s to begrudgingly do as we’re told.”

Kitten smacked the scroll, “But this is obviously a waste of time.”

“It’s all a waste of time,” Farmer grumbled.

Willow clapped her green hands and smiled sweetly, “They are trying to crush our spirits so that we give up and agree to the Branding.” The act of sealing away someone’s connection to magic for the rest of their mortal lives, which for Willow Branch was a fate worse than death, and she suspected the same for Fox and Esme as well. The Ghosts all secretly hoped that one day they would be deemed rehabilitated and allowed back into Guild Towers, Academies, and Laboratories so they could resume their magical careers. Or in Farmer’s case, he probably hoped that Templar would take his stupid arse back. Which of course was ridiculous, no one ever returned from the Haunted Mansion, which is why they were unkindly called Ghosts. 

Willow returned to her desk and leafed through her own stack of broadsheets and wondered agin why she didn’t just quit. It would be easier in so many ways. She was tired of the mind rotting monotony and pointless tasks of the Haunted Mansion, but more than that, she was sick of being green. She looked like a fairy tale witch and couldn’t walk the streets without being stared at by children, and more than a few adults. A cure could be performed, she’d been told, but the powerful Abjuration would cut her off from magic. Greater Restoration as a kind of Branding. On any given day she could walk away from this awful place and get her life back in more way than one. 

All it would cost was her dream of distilling magic into its purist form.

She’d been so fucking close!

And so Willow took up the first scroll, a bawdy limerick belonging to a tiny Bard with an enormous codpiece, and got to work.

***

“So what do we Ghosts do around here for fun?” Kitten asked from the doorway of their tiny kitchen.

“Uh whah?” Fox said with a cringe.

Kitten touched him lightly as she slinked past and lifted herself to perch on the cabinetry which creaked alarmingly. “You do have fun, don’t you?”

“Not… as such.” Fox managed.

Kitten brushed her long black hair, “Goth got you all on a short leash?”

“No. Well, perhaps?” Fox felt like his brain was shrinking. 

“Is Aunty Goth so terrifying?”

“Well they say she was once a real deal Battlemage, you know, before the Haunted House.” He wondered if he should try to escape.

“Oh that’s all completely true,” Kitten said with a wink. “She was once the shit-kicking right hand of the Archmage Jastrogan and fought valiantly during the Time of Incursions.” She leaned forward to whisper, displaying Fox noticed, rather a lot of her cleavage. “They say she was once a member of the Black Coven too…”

“Then how did she end up here?” Running a sad little remedial colony of fuckups. 

Kitten shrugged expansively, “That is one mystery I would love to know the answer to.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there, ha ha.” Fox took a step backward and decided that he was better off without making tea. “I must be going…”

Kitten slid lightly off the counter and stepped closer to him, her scent of jasmine and spice and musk overwhelming in proximity. “But I’m bored…”

“Uh?”

“I think we should have a little fun,” She studied Fox from very close. “You know, you’re positively wasted in a place like this. A mage with your raw skill in Flesh Transmutation should be free to experiment!”

Fox felt a swelling of pride, he was rather powerful, but: “You know I’m strictly forbidden from, ah, using my talents.”

“Pish,” Kitten said. “It can be our little secret.”

“Um…”

“I’m you’re very willing test subject.” Her voice dropped an octave and became husky, “Transform me.”

“Urgh…” Fox swallowed, “In-into what?”

“Make me catty.”

“You want me to turn you into a cat?”

“Oh no, not all the way. I saw what that did to mother. I just want some decorations, maybe some cute ears and a tail, something to piss of daddy.”

“I thought you said it would be a secret.”

“I was lying.”

Fox crossed his arms and took a step back. “I refuse!”

Kitten advanced a step and said directly: “I know about that special club of yours, Fox Smithrite. That place where you play with other willing test subjects.” She paused and stroked his arm, “I’d hate for it all to come to light after you’ve been so careful to keep it hidden.”

Fuck! Gods and demons! Fox’s heart was racing and he felt like he might puke! The last thing he needed was to get discovered breaking the one rule he was told to follow. They would give him The Brand for sure, if not toss him into the Oubliette! “Gods damn you.”

Kitten smiled smugly, “That’s the spirit!”

“What exactly do you want?’

“Oh start with the ears and eyes! And the tail! And oh, I’d fancy some extra nipples like those girls at your club..”

Fox rolled up his sleeves and reached out for magic. Fuck, he thought, I should have fled screaming when I had the chance.

***

Esme put down the ledger and wondered what was taking Smithrite so long. Just stepping out for some tea? What was he doing? Growing it from scratch? Not that she cared, particularly, really his absence was a small blessing, but if she was stuck doing this menial crap so was he. No sneaking off to lollygag. It was the principle of the thing. And besides, tracking him down for a scolding was more entertaining than this rubbish. 

Esme rubbed her hands together, stood, straightened her smart jacket and set off for the communal kitchen. The kitchen was on the same cramped second storey as their office so it was a short journey. Esme frowned, the kitchen door was closed, and more concerning, it was locked. Since the door lacked a locking mechanism this meant it was sealed with a spell. “What’s all this then?”

She heard a giggle and a moan and…a meow? What the fuck? That sounded like the horrid High Archmage’s brat. She gave the doorknob another try and kicked it for good measure. “Open this door!”

“Shit…” Esme heard Smithrite say. Well fine, she could do this the hard way. Esme’s fingers danced and she intoned the Arcanical formula for Unlock. The door sprang open and standing in nothing but her panties was Catherine Mazorubeus who was… purring?

“Meow,” meowed Kitten, who smirked at Esme with glowing yellow feline eyes. She had triangular black furred ears too, a pink nose and whiskers, and ugh, was that a tail? And the harlot had four extra nipples cascading down her chest below her tits, pert and aroused, and… “What the actual fuck?!”

Esme whirled to Smithrite who had stopped casting and was looking desperate to be anywhere else. “Smithrite you fucking idiot!”

“I… I… I…”

“Cat’s got his tongue,” Kitten purred.

“You stupid bitch!” Esme had worked and worked and worked from nothing, mastering magic by logic and theorem until one little mistake, and now she was banished to this stupid useless dump and this awful nepotistic trollop was here to play fun and games and… 

“Wrong animal. Meow.”

“Ah!” And before she realized what she was doing Esme was conjuring a lightening blast. Kitten laughed and made a quick gesture and cool soothing force flowed over Esme and she felt the spell unravel. “Fuck!” And then Esme felt a strange tingle in her wrist and lifted it to see the Glyph of Banishment and Warding carved into her skin smoulder and vanish. “Oh fuck. No no no no no no no!”

“What did you do?” Smithrite asked. 

Kitten shrugged, “It was just Dispell.”

Esme stared at the skin of her bare wrist and felt a presence press against her mind. Hello Sweetness, I promised you I would return. “No, you were gone!”

“Asmodian? Esme?”

Esme felt herself fracture on the inside, felt all of her tamped down rage burn into a pyre and consume her. No, not consume. Forge her. Turn all of her anger and disappointment outward, create sharp edges and razor barbs, aim her at the world. She was still herself, but different. Adjusted. Before she had been a helpless passenger, a body to wear, a victim of fate, but this time she had a purpose. Release me, Sweetness. Esme looked at Fox and Kitten and smiled with all of her teeth, “In a manner of speaking.”

“Bloody Fucking hells!” Fox began casting, trying to pull together a Banishment, but he was out of his depth. A raw sorcerer with a speciality, not a practiced Wizard, like she was, or had been before. Now she was so much more. “OBEY!” She said and forced her will upon Fox, easily dominating him. Fox had always been weak. He stopped casting and stood listlessly, body posture passive.

“Brilliant!” Kitten purred, her tail lashing playfully behind her.

“You!” Esme said, raising a finger, feeling demonic power ripple.

Kitten raised her hands, “Calm down, I submit willingly.”

“Why?” 

“Because this is exciting!” Kitten rested her hands on her hips and pushed out her naked chest. “So what’s the plan, mistress?”

Sweetness, release me! We can be reunited! “I require a Summoning Circle.”

Kitten nodded, “Of course, right. But wouldn’t it be more fun if you looked the part first? You’re rather too ordinary for a Demoness, and you have the tools to fix it right here.” She nodded at the dominated Smithrite.

This form is lacking. Perfect my vessel. Esme felt a pang of distaste, she was happy with her body, wasn’t she? But she did look rather ordinary, and the Demoness she’d become needed something… extra. Excitement replaced confusion and she burned her clothes off her body in a flash of hellfire. Esme gestured at Smithrite, “Slave, REMAKE ME.”

Smithrite’s face didn’t change, his eyes remained glassy and drool hung from his mouth, but his arms started to dance and power flowed through him and into Esme. She moaned and mentally directed that force and felt her thin body grow fit and stronger, her height increase, and with a surge of arousal, she felt her breasts swell into heavy perfection and her hips and ass expand into a pleasing hourglass. She felt a new hunger kindle in her belly, a wet heat that dribbled down her leg. “Yes…” she hissed, “MORE.” Waves of magic flowed over her arms and legs and she watched her forearms grow red scales and her hands sharpen into claws, while her lower legs became scaled boots ending in dainty hooves. She felt heat flow through her face and felt her features grow sharper, her mousey hair cascade into silky black tresses, and backswept jagged red horns sprout from her forehead like a crown. Her back itched and burned and short decorative dragon-like wings grew from her shoulders and a long flexible tail with a barbed, almost phallic tip wiggled free from her ass. Which made the burning heat in her seethe: she needed one more thing. Esme moaned and felt the magic coalesce in her crotch and gasped as a long, thick, ridged and barbed demonic cock grew from her body. She screamed in ecstasy and came, splattering the room and Kitten with faintly glowing semen. “Ahhhhhhh….” Much better, Sweetness.

“Magificent!” Kitten said, hands clutched in delight. “Do me next!”

Esme raised her eyebrow and felt her pulse thrum in her cock and cunt. “What?”

Kitten raised her hands in supplication, “Do you not deserve a pleasure slave, Mistress?”

Esme studied Kitten and felt an awesome thrill. Was she not her plaything? Did she not deserve pleasure and obedience? Her new cock ached at the thought. Yes, my Sweetness, take what is ours. Esme ran her hand along the burning ridges and whorls of her cock. “Slave, REMAKE HER.” 

Esme stroked her cock and fondled one of her heavy tits and let her mind fantasize as she directed Smithrite’s Transmutational power. Kitten gasped as her pussy grew enflamed, her labia and clitoris swelling and her cunt growing larger and perpetually aroused. Her chest blossomed as the four extra nipples on her body become breasts and moaned as all six of her tits swelled into heavy teardrops that covered her torso. “Ahhhh…” she hissed happily gripping her tits. Esme licked her lips with her newly forked tongue and watched as all six of Kitten’s nipples split open into engorge cunts that dribbled slick juices down her body. Kitten shrieked and orgasmed, a look of ecstatic delight on her face. “D-don’t stop,” she begged. Esme smirked, she had no intention. She channeled more power through Smithrite, concentrating it upon Kitten’s legs and feline tail, and the three limbs grew and elongated, became boneless and wriggling. Esme laughed as all three of Kitten’s lower limbs split, leaving her with six long shiny black tentacles in place of legs, that coiled and churned below her hips. “Fuck!” Kitten cried, still delighted, and “Fuck” again as her long black hair became a cap of matching tentacles that slid down her back and shoulders, her two feline ears incongruously retained. Esme felt something inside her body churn and a pressure that was about to burst, she was so close to finishing, and so was Kitten. She just needed one final touch, something to put the troublesome sorceress in her place. Esme snapped her hands and Kitten’s eyes went wide as her arms dwindled away into her shoulders. “Ohhhh…” she moaned, “kinky…” Esme grunted and came, her cock spraying another blast of unholy cum onto her enthusiastic pleasure slave.

Kitten lifted herself on her tentacles and caressed them over her body, her face rapt with pleasure. Esme felt conflicted, what the fuck did she do? But she also felt the burning desire in her Demonic blood. It had been a while since she’d taken a lover. Do it, Sweetness, fuck her. Esme opened her mouth to issue a command, but Kitten had already slithered to her and was kissing her, her mouth hot and desperately hungry against Esme’s, her tentacles boiling around them, slipping into Esme’s cunt and anus, Kitten’s breast cunts. “I need you,” Kitten purred and used the grip of her coils to force Esme’s cock into her endlessly hungry cunt. Esme felt herself enter her slave and “Ffffffuckkk…”

***

Farmer frowned at the table. He knew he was here to be punished, but he prided himself on keeping keen eyes on these miscreant wizards regardless. You couldn’t bloody trust them. Always scheming or meddling or accidentally blowing up a hamlet. A pox on the lot of them! But with a man like him on the job this pathetic lot wouldn’t be getting into any kind of mischief. Nope, not on his watch. He scratched his arm for the seventeenth time in the last hour. Something there was really nagging at him. 

“Chiggers again?” Willow asked, giving him a distasteful look.

“Stow it,” Farmer grumbled, while part of him wondered if he had picked up a critter. He frowned at his arm and… “Fuck!”

“So it is chiggers?”

“Demon!”

“I hardly think your parasite problem is demonic…”

Farmer held out his arm and pointed to the faintly glowing and wildly itchy Templar rune on his arm. “There is a Demonic Incursion happening!” And close by too, judging by the urgent sting in his arm.

“I guess we ought to alert the authorities.”

“Bugger that,” Farmer said, digging beside his desk and grabbing his sword. This was the shit he lived for, and a blessed opportunity to impress the Templar. He wish he had his old armour, or his enchanted shield, or his longsword that cleaved through warding, but he would make due with his bastard sword. Wizards bled after all, and weren’t exactly known for their stout constitutions. He brandished the sword, “To battle!”

And that’s when they heard a shriek and crash from upstairs.

***

Willow scuttled up the stairs in the wake of Farmer as he clumsily mounted a charge. The strange sounds were coming from the kitchen and were in Willow’s opinion much more likely to be a magically aided culinary accident than something infernal. But it should be amusing to see who’d fucked up. Farmer stopped suddenly at the threshold and Willow crashed into his broad back. “Fuck…” he said.

“What? Let me see?” Willow wiggled around to get a look… “Fuck?”

Fox was standing in a corner of the room looking catatonic while two creatures fought… no correction: they fucked wildly in the center of the room. One seemed to be made mostly of shiny black tentacles that flailed and quested while the other creature showed flashes of red dragons scales and… was that Esme? A jubilant squeal emitted from the pile and Kitten’s face surfaced from the mess wearing a pinched expression of indescribable pleasure. This was followed immediately by a growl and an improved version of Esme’s face pulled back in a feral snarl. “What. The. Actual. Fuck!?”

“Demon! Be gone!” Farmer yelled, rather unhelpfully.

Esme looked at them with eyes that were completely black like the void. “BE STILL.”

And they were still, Willow frozen with a confused look on her face, and Farmer with his stupid sword held aloft preparing to charge. Willow fought against the Hold spell, but she knew she was an academic and not a true mage, and found her will lacking for the task. She watched in frozen horror as Esme and Kitten disentangled themselves, a powerful demoness made flesh and a creature of breasts and tentacles. Kitten smiled and worried at her lips with a tentacle, “Mistress, what shall you do?”

Esme strode forward, hooves clacking on the floor, and tapped her chin with a talon. She studied Willow like a piece of meat and then scowled at Farmer with a startling fury. Willow would have flinched if she could. “Templar!” Esme hissed, “Tool of oppression! You’re why I’m stuck here, why we are apart. You should be punished, you pathetic puppet of the system…”

Kitten giggled, “Puppet! I love that.”

Esme smirked, “Do not be impertinent, Slave.”

“I would hate to be punished, Mistress,” Kitten said coyly. Why did it look like she was having fun?

Esme looked like she was listening to someone absent speak and nodded, “It was a good suggestion. Slave, REMAKE…HER…”

Fox started to chant and Willow felt the hairs on her arms stand up as magic built into a tempest around the Transmutation Sorcerer. The magic cascaded into Farmer like a wave and even with his natural Templar resistance, Willow watched as he shrank, muscles withering away as his flesh became smooth and shapely and feminine. The sword fell to the floor and his clothes burned off his body, or well her body, since that part of her anatomy had clearly swapped sexes. Farmer was becoming lithe and beautiful, her face angelic with huge eyes and swollen lips, and her breasts and ass becoming generous and ripe. Willow felt an inconvenient pang of arousal flow through her mind. This was pushing rather a lot of her private buttons. Farmer shuddered and strange seams appeared at her joints: her wrists and ankles, knees and elbows, hips and shoulders and neck. Points of articulation. Like a doll. Like a puppet. Esme smiled and Farmer collapsed in a heap like she’d had her strings cut. Gods alive…

“What shall we do with you, my green friend?” Esme was looking at Willow now, her eyes shining with hunger, the monstrous cock on her body rigid like a threat. Like a promise. Kitten moaned loudly and Willow saw she was fucking herself with her tentacles in several cunts at once. Willow shivered mentally and wished she could say something, by time, maybe play along until help arrived. Maybe join the fun. Surely Goth would hear the commotion and put an end to this. Willow pleaded with her very soul for freedom and strained and… she broke through the Hold spell. “Let me help you,” she gasped.

Esme laughed and gestured at Kitten, “This slut coming willingly was a surprise, but you? This feels tricksy.” She paused and listened, “Yes surely it’s a trick.”

“Let me prove it.” Willow thought desperately. What could she do? There was no one to betray or attack, so how could she play along? Her eyes scanned Kitten moaning and Farmer helpless and Esme watching her with amused eyes and exquisite round breasts and the fearsome heft of her cock. Willow felt that same squirming arousal, why did she find this so stimulating? She’d fantasized about Esme before, but not like this. This was something like out of the naughty fictions she kept hidden under her mattress… Willow needed a distraction and what the fuck, why not try the fun way? She figured she’d be getting fucked either way. Willow licked her lips, dropped to her knees and crawled to Esme. She looked up at the grinning demoness and pulled her cock into her mouth. The cock was burning hot like an ember, and ridged so it dragged at her cheeks and lips, but it tasted salty and sweet and delicious. Heavy clawed hands gripped her head and Esme moaned. “Slave, REMAKE HER.”

“Do not stop,” Esme commanded Willow as Fox started to chant. Willow gasped as she felt energy flow into her body. “Do not disappoint me.” Willow felt a warm caress flow across her, felt things shift and stretch and plump. Am I hot now, she wondered as she licked and sucked Esme’s cock, am I still green? She felt a searing pressure in her chest and a swelling and she gagged and moaned. One of her hands groped her chest to feel three huge tits on her chest, and she plunged the fingers of her other hand deep into Esme’s cunt which was hot and liquid like a volcano. Fuck this was sexy! “Good, good,” Esme grunted and Willow felt a weird melting sensation in her legs followed by an aching stretching out behind her. There was suddenly so much more of her, Willow flexed something new, something definitely not legs, but she didn’t dare stop sucking Esme’s cock to see. She shivered, what was she becoming? Willow felt a wrenching in her sides that she tried ignore. Willow ran a hand along Esme’s cock and clutched her ass, and fingered her, and felt up her own tits, and fuck that was too many hands! She ran two of them over herself and confirmed she had six arms now. Esme felt her cunt squirm and grow hotter and hungrier and the tongue in her mouth become longer and more flexible as it danced and caressed Esme’s monstrous cock. “Ahhh…” And then Esme tensed and Willow was gagging on a powerful eruption in her mouth that burnt like fire and literally boiled down her throat. Willow wailed and collapsed, writhing strangely as she was rocked by a tremendous orgasm! Willow shakily pushed luxurious green curls from her eyes to see she had a long emerald green serpents tail instead of legs. She was panting, the burning warmth in her belly and ache in her cunt begged for more. Willow lifted herself up on her six’s hands and looked up at Esme, “What issss your command Missstressss,” she hissed.

Esme smiled and opened her mouth but was interrupted… 

“Vile Demon!” A girlish voice gushed. “I will smite you!”

Willow turned to see Farmer, now a girl, standing stiffly on limbs that bent slowly and woodenly, trying to drag her heavy bastard sword behind her. “Begone!”

Esme laughed and looked at Willow, “OCCUPY HER.”

Willow felt her will leave her again and she slithered across the room and tackled Farmer, burying her face in the doll-woman’s crotch and starting to lick. Farmer moaned whorishly and her limbs went instantly limp. “Ohhhhh!” She cried, “Use me! I’m just a doll! Fuck me!”

Even if Willow wasn’t Compelled she’d have difficulty stopping herself.

***

Kitten was having an absolutely fantastic time as she wriggled up the stairs after Esme. This game was far wilder than she’d anticipated and kept escalating deliciously. She loved her altered body, the strange feeling of tentacle limbs, the rubbing bouncing weight of her new chest, and the desperately insatiable lust of her flesh. Even the lack of arms was an erotic thrill! A girl could get used to this. And of course this body would definitely piss off daddy. Then there had been the fun of watching Esme turn herself into a demoness and remake the Templar into a living sex doll. And seeing the bitchy green witch debase herself as a horny naga creature had been simply delightful. Who knew that viridian prude could make such a sexy serpentine slut? Kitten couldn’t wait to fuck her. She licked her plush lips and felt one of her tentacles stroke her hungry cunt.

Kitten held in a moan and wondered if perhaps she had pushed the game too far? A half-possessed Esme was great fun, but she seemed intent on inviting something bigger and badder into herself and the world. And here they were about to burst into Goth’s office, the inner sanctum of a fallen but once fearsomely powerful Battlemage. Exactly how much danger was Kitten courting here? How far was she willing to let the game go? She gasped quietly as an orgasm rippled through her body. Kitten knew that as soon as Esme was neutralized play time would be over and she could kiss her sensuous new body goodbye. Would being the sex slave and consort to a Demoness really be that bad?

Esme stopped outside Goth’s door and raised her fist as if to knock, caught herself, nodded and made a pushing gesture instead. The door exploded inward and a napping Goth startled awake with a “Bloody fuck!”

Esme made a gesture and pushed again, wings flaring, and a wave of force slammed Goth into the wall. The old battlemage picked herself up gasping for breath, but started to gesture with her arms. Kitten felt magic gathering for a powerful spell. Fox stumbled into the room like a zombie and Esme shouted “Slave, DISARM HER!”

Goth gasped and watched in frustration as her arms withered away and melted into her shoulders. Kitten wiggled her own truncated shoulders and giggled, she could empathize. Goth’s robes burned away in a flash of fire and she staggered as her chest and torso crumpled, her body melting away until Goth’s head grew directly out of her hips, her collarbones fused into her pelvis. She stumbled and her weathered face grew younger and beautiful and haughty and her sagging legs and ass became toned and flawless. “Asmodian, you stupid arsehole, what the fuck is wrong with you!”

Esme laughed and grinned in triumph, “That felt exquisite! You always were a shitty little tyrant.”

“Say that over here so I can kick your arse.”

“Pathetic.”

Kitten giggled and Goth glared at her. “Having fun Mazorubeus?”

“Oh yes!” She purred, “and to think I was told this place would be dull.”

***

Esme felt pure malicious glee! Here was the high Lady Vithgoth, the queen of her torment and exile, cut down to a helpless plaything. She couldn’t stop smiling! She couldn’t wait to make her little Goth debase herself or dance a little jig. Or maybe she could torture her, not violently, but something monotonous like scanning pointless paperwork for months and months and months on end. Oh how she would make this woman suffer! Focus, Sweetness. “Right, of course.”

Goth nodded, “Not fully in the driver’s seat are you, Asmodian?”

“Silence! Do not make me take your mouth away too.”

“Always took you for an old nag, but thought you were at least smart enough to fall for the Demon thing twice.” Goth shrugged her hips and snorted, “Not often I overestimate someone…”

Esme felt a prickle of doubt that was swept away by a burst of anger. She took a long step into the room and spread her wings, her tail rising threateningly. This fucking woman! “Listen you!”

Goth said something quietly that Esme missed. “What did you say!?” She took another step closer.

“I said a little closer,” Goth repeated with a smirk. “BIND!”

And the filthy brown rug on the floor flashed into a pattern of glowing sigils arranged in a ring. A Circle of Holding! “No!” Esme screamed. She was fucking trapped! She lashed out with her claws and tail and hissed when they met nothing but frigid burning force! “You cunt!”

Smithrite blinked his eyes in confusion, “What’s happening? The fuck?”

“Glad you could finally join us,” Goth said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She nodded at a bureau and issued clipped instructions: “Top drawer. Right corner. Amulet. Bring it to me.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Esme snapped, baring her fangs.

Smithrite cringed and froze. Searched the room like a frightened rabbit. 

“Today please,” Goth groaned and Fox stumbled back into motion. He opened the wrong drawer, and then the right one, and pulled out a heavy looking amulet made of platinum and amber. “Put it on me,” Goth snapped.

Smithrite scurried to comply and Kitten grappled him in her tentacles, “Not so fast Fox! I’m still playing…”

“Damnation Mazorubeus, now is not the time!”

Esme looked around furiously, snarling, there had to be a weakness! A way out of the trap! She had to get free! Smithrite fought and wriggled, and Kitten giggled and clung to him, tentacles binding his legs and slipping into his clothes. Goth sighed and trudged over to the wrestling pair and stuck out her neck. Smithrite struggled and squirmed and wiggled loose for a moment and dropped the amulet over Goth’s neck, but backwards so the amulet rested in the cleavage of her pert ass instead of on her throat. “Good enough.”

“No! Ahhhh!” Esme screamed and raged against her bonds. No, Sweetness, do something!

“Diabachukobyzouthabubaddon, I Name you and I Forsake you and I Banish you back to whence you came. BEGONE!” 

The amulet on Goth’s ass erupted in light and shattered and the air in the room rushed Eslewhere with the sharp tang of brimstone. Esme dropped to the floor. Where was she? How did she get here? She felt shakey and strange; her body different. “What happened?” she asked in a small uncertain voice.

“The Demon snared you again,” Goth said.

Esme gasped: her boss was nude and somehow only a head on a pair of surprisingly nice legs. She felt a weird stirring in her loins and a hungry lurch in her guts. “Did-did I do that to you?”

“You bloody wish,” Goth said.

“I can fix it,” Fox said meekly from where he was cowering. Esme looked at him and gasped, noticing that Catharine Mazorubeus was wrapped around him and seemed to be an erotic mixture of octopus and cat. 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Kitten said sternly. The room filled briefly with a wet crunch as she calmly snapped Smithrite’s neck with her tentacles. “No takebacks.”

“Oh, fucking hells…”

***

Esme tried to look normal as she walked up toward the Haunted Mansion, wincing with every clop of her hooves on the cobblestones. She hoped her long skirt and matronly coat and big stupid hat hid her most obvious changes, but she suspected everyone could see the succubus body that she’d cursed herself with. She was told the Guild was working on a solution, but poor dead Fox Smithrite was far too powerful and his work couldn’t be easily undone by lesser mages. Best, she was advised, to assume her sexy demoness look was permanent. But who was she to complain? Compared to the others she’d gotten off rather lightly. Especially since she’d been the one assigning their forms. She clopped up the sagging stairs to the house and passed through the threshold. 

“Hullo Esssme,” Willow hissed from her office. Esme peaked in to the find the green woman waving with two of her hands and smiling at her a bit shyly. She was wearing her beautiful green ringlets loose, a tight backless blouse that did nothing to hide her triple bosom, and a narrow skirt that hugged her hips before her body transitioned into her long serpentine lower body. She’d also painted her lips and eyes a striking shade of dark green, Esme noticed. Esme thought she looked radiant and part of her mind caught on the dream-like memory of Willow sucking her demonic cock. Esme squirmed and tried to ignore the burning lust of her body which never really went away. “Lovely to see you Willow,” Esme said while trying not to have an erection. Willow noticed and a dark green blush formed on her cheeks as she glanced away coquettishly. 

“Get a room you two!” Squealed a grumpy girlish voice. Farmer was posed at her desk and glared daggers at Esme. “Caught between a horny Demoness and her pet Monstress!”

“Whatever ssshall a helpessssss dolly do?” 

Farmer blushed prettily and rocked in her seat, “I’m a Templar!”

“Of courssse, dear.”

Esme shook her head fondly and clomped up to the second floor to her too empty office. She removed her coat, stretched her useless little wings, sat at her desk, and tried very hard not to notice the empty one next to her. Poor Fox Smithrite had been annoying and a dangerous fool, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Esme fingered the raw wound of her new Glyph of Banishment and Warding and felt guilty. She hadn’t been in control of herself when events spiraled out of control and that psychotic Mazorubeus bitch had been the true murderer, but Esme would always feel like if she hadn’t fucked up that Summoning Circle she’d not only still be a badass Wizardess but her hapless coworker would still be alive. Kitten Mazorubeus would have no doubt ended up in a Sanitorium regardless, but probably with fewer tentacles. Esme sighed, all she could do was keep moving forward one day at a time and count her blessings she was alive, free from the Oubliette, and still somehow allowed to be a Ghost. It wasn’t ideal, but it was her lot in life, at least until she gave up and let them Brand her.

Esme picked up an Alchemical ledger and felt the throb of her cunt and a distracting stiffness in her cock. She squirmed and wondered if Willow would perhaps be free for the evening…

“Asmodian! Get up here!”

Esme heard a foot stomping loudly in Goth’s office. 

 “My nose itches!”

***

The Revenant