“I call top bunk!” Eve shouted through the phone speaker.
“This isn’t…that…there are no bunks!” Diane kept falling for Eve’s antics, and Honoka was laughing so hard her sides hurt.
“Stop it!” Honoka begged with tears in her eyes. “I’m driving!”
It was late, the traffic light in Norwood and the couple only a block away from the converted mansion apartment complex. For the last hour, the four wives talked on a conference call and went over the idea of collectively moving into the dungeon. Diane proposed it and thought it an excellent longterm idea, Honoka eventually agreed but still retained a few lingering hang-ups. Eve didn’t let them finish before she jumped in headfirst, the occasional crashes and thumps in the background of her phone apparently the goblin packing her things. Which left Banda.
“I don’t know, my Nation needs me at the farm, and it seems like a long commute…” Banda sounded dejected and unsure. It would have resonated some sympathy, except she had repeated the same thing for the past hour.
“Banda, how about we compromise?” Honoka finally asked, parking the van in the cul-de-sac but leaving the engine running. She had allocated human for the drive, Diane a succubus in the seat behind her. “I’ll meet with you and a rep of the…”
“Lenni Lenape,” Diane whispered in the black woman’s ear, sending tingles down her spine. It had been a long day, and Honoka looked forward to the happy ending cumming up.
“…Lenni Lenape tomorrow and find out if there’s a middle ground. Maybe timeshares or something. However, at the end of the day, you’re a married woman and you have to ask yourself, do you want to be with me?”
“Yes.” Despite her reservations on moving, Banda’s response sounded resolute.
“Ok then,” Diane took over, reaching up and plucking her phone off the dash, “Honoka will meet with you tomorrow morning around ten while I take the van to Eve’s and load her things. I won’t be able to help because Honoka will need to look human for the meeting and I still succu-can’t. Regardless of how the meeting goes, we’ll congregate for early dinner in Harvardtown before Banda receives her first round of harmonization. Loves and kisses!”
“Loves!” everyone shouted together, then Diane ended the call.
“When did you become my secretary?” Honoka asked, shutting off the van and twisting her head around to ogle the gloriously naked succubus in the back.
“It seemed like a good fit.” Sitting in a provocatively slouched position, her arms forward and shoulders coming together to press her breasts together, her crimson nipples stiff and throbbing with a need to be sucked, bits of illumination from the street lights played with the shadows of the dark van. Someone else was looking forward to tonight, the succubus running a finger over her gleaming snatch and slowly bringing the clear liquid to her lips, licking her finger clean while her other hand held her phone to let the light from her screen tease across her body. At the same time, her tail journeyed under Honoka’s skirt and crawled up chocolate thighs. “I know another fit that will be a good one, but it might be tighter.”
Even though she wore a skirt, Honoka hadn’t bothered putting the harness back on, her erection a massive tent she dealt with the entire drive home. Before Diane’s emerald tail went much further and the two of them caused a mess in the rental no amount of bleach would erase, Honoka decided to become the adult and put her shaking hand down on the tail to keep it from moving. “Not in here.” Seeing the pouty face on Diane, Honoka tried to sweeten the deal. “Give me ten minutes and we’ll see how you like being strapped into my Fortress Of Debauchery.”
“Deal!” Diane squealed.
Honoka jumped out of the van, already drooling at the image of her wife thrashing on the shower mattress while her big black cock smooshed between those freckled tits of hers.
*SMACK!*
Falling to the ground, Honoka’s vision went blurry when pain exploded inside her head. Distantly, fading quickly, she heard doors open and shut and a woman scream. Honoka lacked cognitive understanding, but she felt the cry was significant. Then everything went away as the blur turned black.
********************
Her head should hurt more, Honoka reasoned through the molasses of her mind. Instead, Honoka had a dry mouth and a disconnect between her body and brain. She sensed it, the pain, but it wasn’t affecting her at the moment. Eyes closed, she tried to open them but it took a couple of minutes to muster the energy for it. When she did, she closed them immediately and groaned when the light sent stabbing knives into her sockets.
“Honoka?” Diane asked, though in a worried whisper like she was terrified of being heard. “Hono-chan? Are you ok?”
Smacking her lips to try and speak, her voice felt like sandpaper when she replied. “No. Head hurts, sorta. What…?”
“Benedict found us, punched you in the temple and a bunch of his guys took us to the back rooms of Solomon’s. You probably received a concussion.” Though sounding less worried, Diane still whispered and babbled as if expecting someone to come back soon. “This part of the brothel is for the extreme BDSM crowd and is also where the more…illegal parts of Church’s business happens. Look, try not to worry, my phone has a panic button linked to Philip’s and I was able to hit it before they grabbed us.”
Honoka remained groggy, though it was clearing and she tried to stand only to find her arms bound overhead and her legs also strapped down but spread open. Trying to open her eyes again, the light was still bright and hurt her, but squinting for a minute let her grasp a vague picture of their situation.
They were in a bondage torture chamber. Racks of weapons lined the walls - including an actual medieval rack - chains hung from the ceiling, leather straps and suits draped on mannequins. Honoka was restrained to a hard wooden X tilted at sixty-degrees, her clothing missing and her pulsing shaft sticking straight into the air as if unconcerned about priorities. Diane, also sans clothing, was suspended in the air by chains around her wrists and more chains around her feet clamped to the concrete floor. Leather harnesses bound her wings and tail painfully out of the way, but other than a few bruises on her face she looked unharmed. Floodlights illuminated them both while keeping the rest of the room in shadows, though a reinforced metal door maintained a handy regulation EXIT sign glowing above it.
“What are…” Honoka gulped her dry throat, trying to speak, “what are they going to do with us?”
“I don’t know, this doesn’t seem like something Church would do.” Diane grimaced, moving her hands and feet to try and generate some circulation. “I mean, Solomon Church is a cruel and evil man, but he likes manipulation and using a velvet glove. Benedict’s the dom pervert; however, I honestly have no idea what’s about to happen. I’m more worried about you. Church wants me because I can make him money as an alchemist, you are just a blackmail bargaining chip.”
They both stopped talking when the bolt to the door unlocked and in walked the shirtless, mustached man Honoka remembered from the first night together with Diane. A white guy in his thirties, over six feet and flaunting the kind of oddly formed muscles steroid abuse caused, his black slacks held up by a pair of suspenders while his overly broad chest bristled too much hair on it like he wore a cat. In his hands he held a riding crop, twisting it loudly in clenched fists. Two other men followed him in and closed the door, the lighting making it hard to see or describe them from the shadows.
“You caused me a bit of trouble, Diane Long,” Benedict said, slowly stepping towards the helpless succubus and giving her a calculating look. “Or is it Bronagh Lonnegan?” Moving his riding crop, he did something to it. The long leather stick suddenly glowed an angry red light, the cruel man using it to gently lift up one of Diane’s breasts. Diane screamed while a sizzling sound audibly filled the room along with the smell of cooked meat.
“I will admit, I didn’t think a fake ID and a boob job would have been enough to keep your secret, but we might not have found you so quickly if a Justice at the City Office didn’t see your full name on a marriage certificate and put two and two together.” He moved the crop off, it’s touch leaving Diane’s flesh blistered and smoked, forcing the succubus to slump and whimper in the chains.
Diane! Beyond words, blood clouded Honoka’s vision and she struggled madly against her fetters. She had never felt this angry before, but a berserker rage boiled inside and she snarled at Benedict with bestial intensity.
“And this must be the blushing bride,” Benedict continued in a thick Boston accent, flicking his glowing crop lightly across Honoka’s male member, trailing angry welts but Honoka hardly registered the wounds, still struggling to break free and kill the man. “Gotta say, though I am mildly disgusted with your sexual preferences, I’m a little envious. Does it even fit?”
“…you’re a…little something…” Diane gritted out through the agony, smiling under disheveled hair. “…all that gym-juice…wonder if you even have one…anymore…”
Growling, Benedict swung around and landed four hard lashes against Diane’s stomach, each exploding in burns and smoke. Diane screamed under the lashing and shook in her metal bonds, trying to escape with an animalistic instinct. After visible effort, Benedict stopped himself and turned the glowing crop off, walking back to his lackeys and grabbing some paper and a pen, thrusting it in front of the sobbing succubus.
“Here is what is going to happen, slut. You are going to sign this Binding Contract - not the watered-down kind, this is a full-on slavery deal - or I will beat your wife over there to death. Once you sign it, though, everything goes back to normal and I may even allow a conjugal visit if you’ve been extra nice.” He emphasized his point by clicking the pen and leering.
Although still angry, Honoka was brought back to the reality of the situation with that pen click and stopped struggling. This was going to happen, and she was helpless to do anything as an eighty-nine-pound woman.
An eighty-nine-pound woman…?
Hehehe.
Benedict reached forward to loosen the chains holding Diane up when he was distracted by some noise behind him, though he kept working. Only when he heard one of his boys curse that he spun around and saw the strangest of things.
Hope Banda is alone in her room right now. Much like the first time allocating with Diane, the transformation was slow, probably to let her body adjust to the change or some other magical reason. She had become familiar with horns pushing out of her head, but instead of the curling ridged pair that started above the ears and crawled up above her forehead, these were sharp and smooth, piercing out like the feeling of popping a giant zit when the thick bones grew and curved out of her temples and jutted outward from her head with black points forward. She was not familiar with the feeling of her face restructuring to this extreme. Her nose and jaw especially gaining more and different shapes with everything shifting under her skin like a 3D jigsaw puzzle being completed by invisible hands. Even her teeth grew and Honoka realized her entire head wasn’t just reshaping, it was growing.
With a tightening of the leather holding her in place, Honoka found she felt all of herself growing. Transforming into a succubus, her height changed and some new parts grew in, but the differences remained mostly in the realm of human standard. As a holstaur, everything grew into a much larger scale. Her skeleton transformed first, the bones bloating to four times their thickness, pushing Honoka’s skin to a painful tightness as it tried to keep her in one piece. Only for a moment, though, the bone volume needed to support the explosion of swoll that was about to come. And explode it did.
“MoooYEAH!!” Honoka lowed, hearing her voice deepen as her neck doubled in length and widened, veins supplying needed blood to fuel traps that grew and grew into a sloping V. Like a muscle set of dominoes, this triggered down to ever-widening shoulders and deltoids taking on the size and shape of basketballs. Honoka felt herself being pushed off the wooden X as lats joined the traps group and they both shoved back while the lats thickened under her arms in a perfect set of bodybuilder wings. Her arms were the first to gain real definition with their size, biceps and triceps cutting deep canyons in her skin as thick veins pulsed on top of other vessels, the blood surging throughout her body as it tried to feed bursting mass. Muscle fibers twitched with every breath, flooding her arms down the biceps, to the brachioradialis pushing the already massive biceps even higher, to the exploding pair of ulnar and radial flexors in her forearms fighting for space. Her fingers compressed together and her thumb thickened, going from five fingers to three large ones, closing them in a tight fist as she strained against the leather binding her.
I HAVE THE POWEEEER!! Letting out a cowish snort, Honoka strained her arms down against the bindings. While she did, she felt her ribcage radiate outward and pecs thicken so quickly the almost-holstaur woman thought her boobs were growing, but all she saw was massive muscles and erect nipples plumping outward. Looking upward, she met the stunned face of Benedict with a wicked bovine grin and put in some maximum effort to break free. The X had been well made and the straps were thick and heavy leather, but Honoka was gaining fifty pounds of muscle a second and it didn’t take long before the wood of the rack cracked then splintered, the transforming woman bringing her arms down with a roar amid the flying woodchips.
Straightening, Honoka found her perspective two feet taller and moving up, the rest of her body trying to finish the change. Fur sprouted from her shoulders, thicker down her back and then spreading towards her growing hips and thighs. Her dark skin turned a light pink but the pelt colored into a dark brown with some splotches of lighter brown. The flesh around her abdomen stretched as an eight pack and obliques fought for space and ballooned with strength, giving Honoka a fantastic feeling of balance and control. The Beast long ago retreated so the kidnappers gained a clear view as the meat of her thighs took on genuinely epic proportions, snapping the restraints holding her legs with only a minimum pressure as they tore through them. Her glutes joined the fun, expanding so quickly they pushed Honoka off the rack and she clopped to the ground, somewhere in all the sensation missing her feet turning into large hooves. For a moment, Honoka worried she would fall but instincts took over and she straightened, her size and mass now to the point where the straps around her wrists snapped and the bits of rack fell to the floor.
The three men in the room cowered, trembling even. From start to now, less than thirty seconds passed witnessing a mouse of a girl turn into a behemoth. What Race or Class did this monster have, they must think, that transforms her into the nightmare of abusive and controlling men?
Honoka loved to revel in the final parts of her allocation and the fur on her thighs were drenched from the erotic feeling of strength and power, but the furious woman hadn’t forgotten where they were and what she needed to do. Growing up the daughter of a woman descended from samurai warriors, Honoka recalled her martial arts training. Pulling her upturned fist to her hip, she lunged forward and punched a still shocked Benedict in the chest with the force of a wrecking ball and the sound of broken ribs, throwing him five feet into the air and crashing into the wall, Honoka’s kiai ringing in the room like a gunshot. As she turned to the other two men - one wiggling glowing fingers in front of him as the other tried to open the door - the holstaur woman nearly lost her balance when two breasts detonated onto her chest.
The sound of stretching skin and the obviously erotic sight of a woman’s breasts growing distracted the spellcaster. His fingers fumbled and a bolt of green light shot over Honoka’s head, showering the room in sparks. Honoka wanted nothing more than to bask in the feeling of ballooning breasts, her legs shaking a little as she uncontrollably rubbed her thighs together for a moment, but regained herself as she reached over and picked up the man with one hand by his shirt and slammed him bodily into the one who just opened the door. Honoka was amazed most of all at how light the man felt, it was like she held a paperback book in her hand instead of a two hundred pound adult.
“I can get used to this,” Honoka said with satisfaction, picking up the other man sprawled on the floor, lifting each lackey for a couple of reps like tiny aerobic barbells, her arm pythons moving with power as her breasts continued to fill and swell outward. Tossing them both into the corner of the room and shutting the door, Honoka took a moment to enjoy the warmth and stretching of smooth, pink skin under her fingers, the literal beach balls in her hands filling and pulling down with their massive weight. Honoka almost gushed when she realized no matter how large these tits got, this body exhibited the strength to hold them up with ease.
“Honoka, look out!”
The holstaur woman spun around, abruptly coming out of her arousal, but it was too late. Benedict, wheezing and holding his chest with one hand, thrust the other outward and spat out a phrase with a snarl, a ball of red fire three feet diameter shooting towards her. Honoka fell to the ground; however, her mass was against her as her back received grazing of the ball before it hit the wall near the lackeys and exploded, tossing mannequins and men aside with force and engulfing them in hot flames before dissipating in a magical, not-real-fire fashion, leaving only a lingering heat and two charred skeletons. That entire half of the room was now a destroyed vertical crater, the concrete wall exposing glowing, hissing rebar.
Adrenalin pushing the pain aside, Honoka scrambled to her feet. Three giant steps across the floor, she raised one ungulated foot high into the air and then brought it down with the sound of the largest egg cracking, Benedict’s head a mess of red blood and gray brains underneath her hoof.
Breathing roughly, looking down at what she just executed, the young woman who was so shy she hardly spoke to anyone, tried to find if she felt horror or guilt. Vividly, she remembered a time when she was on the ground, girls from the school basketball team picking on the mongrel shorty as they took turns kicking her in the head. The memory fading, Honoka found only disgust remained. The reality of seeing someone’s head cracked open was not as sanitized as fictional media led her to believe, nor was the smell of excrement mingling with the blood and the ashes of cooked people helping her stomach as she felt bile rising, but she did not feel guilty. Looking up at Diane, the succubus’ face draining of color and her mouth open in shock, the currently holstaur girl saw all the horror and guilt she did not feel.
“Why don’t I feel bad?” Honoka asked, her voice cracking as she looked back down at the corpse. For a moment, her mind saw one of those basketball girls instead of a cooling body. Without noticing, some tears dropped to the floor, splashing in the blood. “I want to kill him again, I feel like it would make me happy.” Turning her face back up to the succubus, she openly wept now. “Diane, why do I feel this way?”
Diane didn’t have an answer, but she would regret not giving one.
********************
The police descended on Solomon’s brothel like a Biblical plague.
In the lead and in full tactical gear, Sergeant Miner led the charge. Dozens of officers burst through every entrance and some windows, flashbangs and even automatic bursts of gunfire going on inside the converted warehouse. Screaming clients and prostitutes spilled out into the waiting arms of even more cops. Two police choppers spun overhead and shown lights upon any movement. In real-time, the raid only lasted fifteen minutes, but it was very intense as SWAT escorted escorts and their Johns and Janes out of the front in cuffs and zip ties.
News vans and reporters crowded behind the yellow tape and one lucky cameraman nabbed the shot of two women wrapped in blankets, an African American and an Irish American, escorted by Sergeant Miner who handed each girl a purse before putting them in a squad car and driving away. This footage was ignored mainly for the real story. A giant of a man, whorled blue skin and jutting teeth emerging in all his demonic visage, dressed in a tailored suit and notably walking without cuffs to be questioned outside of the range of cameras by two detectives. The elusive Solomon Church had avoided any previous public appearances and catching him on film was a network’s dream. Before tonight, some people even wondered if he actually existed.
What the news media didn’t notice, nor did the detectives or anyone else, was the small camera in one hand that the incubus casually held, his massive fist completely hiding it from view. If any saw it, they probably wouldn’t think much of a pimp holding a ProGo.
“It was self-defense, anyone would see that.” Driving the squad car, Philip Miner had his lights flashing to ease his way quickly through traffic, talking to assure the women in the back seat. “The ME’s going to say it, I’m going to report it, that’s the end of it.” He turned right at one road and zoomed past stopped cars. “Isn’t a DA that would bother fighting that. First, we’ll take you to a hospital to check you out, but only so much they can do for a succubus so I’ve called Georgia and she’s on her way to top you off.”
“Thanks,” Diane said, meaning it, but it wasn’t in her voice. She stared at her wife and didn’t know what to say. Honoka seemed disconnected, wrapped in her blanket and looking out the window at nothing. “Hono-chan…”
“I’m fine,” Honoka replied, not looking away from the window. She didn’t sound depressed or anxious, just flat.
“Georgia is going to probably give you the riot act, Di,” Philip kept talking, either not noticing the drama or trying to break through it. “When I told her you both eloped with two other women without a chance for her to put on a proper wedding, I lost the hearing in one of my ears.” He chuckled a little, but the police officer wasn’t good at keeping a conversation going so the three lapsed into an awkward silence.
“I want to go home,” Honoka suddenly announced, eyes still peering out the window. “Can you just take me home?”
Philip looked back, his face concerned. Diane leaned forward against plastic separating the front and back, agony upon her face and in her voice. “Please?” she asked, her eyes going back to Honoka with the unspoken need for her wife to recover.
Not saying anything, Philip found an intersection and swung the car around, heading back towards Norwood. It didn’t take long, but turning into a familiar cul-de-sac and shutting off his lights, Philip parked and turned around to look both women over.
“I’m doing this under protest, potions are not a substitute for a doctor. Georgia will come by in about an hour and see if you need anything. I am going to request some officers be parked out here for the next couple of days for your safety. You don’t get to argue with me about it. Also, regulations require a psychiatrist meet with both of you in the next week.” He exited and opened the door to let them out. “Call me if you need anything.”
Honoka didn’t say anything as she walked up to the door of her building, producing her pink bag from under the blankets and unlocking the door. Diane gave the closest person she thought of as a father a desperate look and then followed her wife into the dark stairway. Honoka went up quickly because when the succubus arrived at the apartment the shower was already running. Opening her purse Philip recovered in that basement, Diane discovered a lot of missed calls and texts from a worried Banda and Eve. Of course, when Honoka allocated, Banda went out of her mind wondering what happened. Diane sent off some texts and the girls were on their way. Georgia had also tracked down and called Uzume, Honoka’s mother, the Japanese mother-in-law leaving a few urgent messages on the succubus’ phone.
“I am too young to deal with in-law drama,” the succubus lamented, firming her resolve and walking into the bathroom. The water rained down from the showerheads, yet it didn’t sound like Honoka was moving, so Diane sat on the tub and didn’t enter. “Banda and Eve are on their way over, will be here in a little over an hour. Your mom also heard the news from Georgia so you need to call her soon.”
“Ok.”
The water turned off and Honoka stepped out, dripping water on the tile. When she tried to go past Diane, the succubus inhaled sharply, seeing extensive bubbled burns on the back of Honoka’s head and back, a lot of her hair at her neck singed to ash from the final fire attack. Grabbing the black woman, Diane turned her around to examine the damage. “Honoka, why didn’t you say anything?! Stay right here while I fetch a healing salve.”
“It's fine, I don’t feel it,” Honoka replied, trying to break out of the grip and continue into the other room. “I’m tired and just want to go to bed.”
“What is wrong?” Diane pleaded, conflicted between holding her and getting the salve, eventually relenting and going to her supplies. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
“I said I’m fine,” the black hermaphrodite repeated with rising irritation, walking to the bed, throwing off the covers and crawled under them, still wet but pulling them over her head.
Diane came over with the salve and pushed the covers back, rubbing some of the yellow glowing ointment into her hand. “You are not fine. I think you feel bad about killing a man. You shouldn’t feel bad, he tried to kill you.”
“NO!!” Honoka shouted, turning around kicking off the covers, knocking the salve out of Diane’s hands. “I don’t care about that sick lowlife, he deserved to die! I wanted him to die! But when I looked over at your face, I saw it.” Honoka bent forward and nearly touched their noses together, her intense stare so close. “I can still see it: your disgust at marrying a murderer. You’re terrified of me! You’re probably asking yourself how you can love someone so FILTHY!!” Pushing the stunned succubus off of the bed, Honoka hyperventilated as she looked down at her hands.
“Honoka, I…I love you,” Diane pleaded, but the slight pause, no matter that it came from distress and not doubt, only appeared to confirm Honoka’s delusions.
“And you,” Honoka said, her mind unable to stay focused, reached between her legs at the erect penis as if she wanted to tear it off and wincing from the burns. “Always controlling me, never letting up, ruining my life, all I ever wanted was to be normal.” The last phrase was said in a croaking whisper, her eyes moving upwards towards the kitchen. Diane followed her gaze and saw the knife block.
At the same time, they looked back at each other, then Honoka jumped off the bed. Diane scrambled desperately to follow, diving into a low tackle as the two naked women struggled against one another.
“Let me go! I want to be clean! I want to be normal!” Honoka cried as she fought to crawl closer to the kitchen. Diane proved stronger and eventually, the black woman collapsed and bawled in the embrace of her wife. An hour later, forgetting to lock the door, Eve and Banda walked in on the two women still holding each other while they sobbed on the kitchen floor.
“I call top bunk!” Eve shouted through the phone speaker.
“This isn’t…that…there are no bunks!” Diane kept falling for Eve’s antics, and Honoka was laughing so hard her sides hurt.
“Stop it!” Honoka begged with tears in her eyes. “I’m driving!”
It was late, the traffic light in Norwood and the couple only a block away from the converted mansion apartment complex. For the last hour, the four wives talked on a conference call and went over the idea of collectively moving into the dungeon. Diane proposed it and thought it an excellent longterm idea, Honoka eventually agreed but still retained a few lingering hang-ups. Eve didn’t let them finish before she jumped in headfirst, the occasional crashes and thumps in the background of her phone apparently the goblin packing her things. Which left Banda.
“I don’t know, my Nation needs me at the farm, and it seems like a long commute…” Banda sounded dejected and unsure. It would have resonated some sympathy, except she had repeated the same thing for the past hour.
“Banda, how about we compromise?” Honoka finally asked, parking the van in the cul-de-sac but leaving the engine running. She had allocated human for the drive, Diane a succubus in the seat behind her. “I’ll meet with you and a rep of the…”
“Lenni Lenape,” Diane whispered in the black woman’s ear, sending tingles down her spine. It had been a long day, and Honoka looked forward to the happy ending cumming up.
“…Lenni Lenape tomorrow and find out if there’s a middle ground. Maybe timeshares or something. However, at the end of the day, you’re a married woman and you have to ask yourself, do you want to be with me?”
“Yes.” Despite her reservations on moving, Banda’s response sounded resolute.
“Ok then,” Diane took over, reaching up and plucking her phone off the dash, “Honoka will meet with you tomorrow morning around ten while I take the van to Eve’s and load her things. I won’t be able to help because Honoka will need to look human for the meeting and I still succu-can’t. Regardless of how the meeting goes, we’ll congregate for early dinner in Harvardtown before Banda receives her first round of harmonization. Loves and kisses!”
“Loves!” everyone shouted together, then Diane ended the call.
“When did you become my secretary?” Honoka asked, shutting off the van and twisting her head around to ogle the gloriously naked succubus in the back.
“It seemed like a good fit.” Sitting in a provocatively slouched position, her arms forward and shoulders coming together to press her breasts together, her crimson nipples stiff and throbbing with a need to be sucked, bits of illumination from the street lights played with the shadows of the dark van. Someone else was looking forward to tonight, the succubus running a finger over her gleaming snatch and slowly bringing the clear liquid to her lips, licking her finger clean while her other hand held her phone to let the light from her screen tease across her body. At the same time, her tail journeyed under Honoka’s skirt and crawled up chocolate thighs. “I know another fit that will be a good one, but it might be tighter.”
Even though she wore a skirt, Honoka hadn’t bothered putting the harness back on, her erection a massive tent she dealt with the entire drive home. Before Diane’s emerald tail went much further and the two of them caused a mess in the rental no amount of bleach would erase, Honoka decided to become the adult and put her shaking hand down on the tail to keep it from moving. “Not in here.” Seeing the pouty face on Diane, Honoka tried to sweeten the deal. “Give me ten minutes and we’ll see how you like being strapped into my Fortress Of Debauchery.”
“Deal!” Diane squealed.
Honoka jumped out of the van, already drooling at the image of her wife thrashing on the shower mattress while her big black cock smooshed between those freckled tits of hers.
*SMACK!*
Falling to the ground, Honoka’s vision went blurry when pain exploded inside her head. Distantly, fading quickly, she heard doors open and shut and a woman scream. Honoka lacked cognitive understanding, but she felt the cry was significant. Then everything went away as the blur turned black.
********************
Her head should hurt more, Honoka reasoned through the molasses of her mind. Instead, Honoka had a dry mouth and a disconnect between her body and brain. She sensed it, the pain, but it wasn’t affecting her at the moment. Eyes closed, she tried to open them but it took a couple of minutes to muster the energy for it. When she did, she closed them immediately and groaned when the light sent stabbing knives into her sockets.
“Honoka?” Diane asked, though in a worried whisper like she was terrified of being heard. “Hono-chan? Are you ok?”
Smacking her lips to try and speak, her voice felt like sandpaper when she replied. “No. Head hurts, sorta. What…?”
“Benedict found us, punched you in the temple and a bunch of his guys took us to the back rooms of Solomon’s. You probably received a concussion.” Though sounding less worried, Diane still whispered and babbled as if expecting someone to come back soon. “This part of the brothel is for the extreme BDSM crowd and is also where the more…illegal parts of Church’s business happens. Look, try not to worry, my phone has a panic button linked to Philip’s and I was able to hit it before they grabbed us.”
Honoka remained groggy, though it was clearing and she tried to stand only to find her arms bound overhead and her legs also strapped down but spread open. Trying to open her eyes again, the light was still bright and hurt her, but squinting for a minute let her grasp a vague picture of their situation.
They were in a bondage torture chamber. Racks of weapons lined the walls - including an actual medieval rack - chains hung from the ceiling, leather straps and suits draped on mannequins. Honoka was restrained to a hard wooden X tilted at sixty-degrees, her clothing missing and her pulsing shaft sticking straight into the air as if unconcerned about priorities. Diane, also sans clothing, was suspended in the air by chains around her wrists and more chains around her feet clamped to the concrete floor. Leather harnesses bound her wings and tail painfully out of the way, but other than a few bruises on her face she looked unharmed. Floodlights illuminated them both while keeping the rest of the room in shadows, though a reinforced metal door maintained a handy regulation EXIT sign glowing above it.
“What are…” Honoka gulped her dry throat, trying to speak, “what are they going to do with us?”
“I don’t know, this doesn’t seem like something Church would do.” Diane grimaced, moving her hands and feet to try and generate some circulation. “I mean, Solomon Church is a cruel and evil man, but he likes manipulation and using a velvet glove. Benedict’s the dom pervert; however, I honestly have no idea what’s about to happen. I’m more worried about you. Church wants me because I can make him money as an alchemist, you are just a blackmail bargaining chip.”
They both stopped talking when the bolt to the door unlocked and in walked the shirtless, mustached man Honoka remembered from the first night together with Diane. A white guy in his thirties, over six feet and flaunting the kind of oddly formed muscles steroid abuse caused, his black slacks held up by a pair of suspenders while his overly broad chest bristled too much hair on it like he wore a cat. In his hands he held a riding crop, twisting it loudly in clenched fists. Two other men followed him in and closed the door, the lighting making it hard to see or describe them from the shadows.
“You caused me a bit of trouble, Diane Long,” Benedict said, slowly stepping towards the helpless succubus and giving her a calculating look. “Or is it Bronagh Lonnegan?” Moving his riding crop, he did something to it. The long leather stick suddenly glowed an angry red light, the cruel man using it to gently lift up one of Diane’s breasts. Diane screamed while a sizzling sound audibly filled the room along with the smell of cooked meat.
“I will admit, I didn’t think a fake ID and a boob job would have been enough to keep your secret, but we might not have found you so quickly if a Justice at the City Office didn’t see your full name on a marriage certificate and put two and two together.” He moved the crop off, it’s touch leaving Diane’s flesh blistered and smoked, forcing the succubus to slump and whimper in the chains.
Diane! Beyond words, blood clouded Honoka’s vision and she struggled madly against her fetters. She had never felt this angry before, but a berserker rage boiled inside and she snarled at Benedict with bestial intensity.
“And this must be the blushing bride,” Benedict continued in a thick Boston accent, flicking his glowing crop lightly across Honoka’s male member, trailing angry welts but Honoka hardly registered the wounds, still struggling to break free and kill the man. “Gotta say, though I am mildly disgusted with your sexual preferences, I’m a little envious. Does it even fit?”
“…you’re a…little something…” Diane gritted out through the agony, smiling under disheveled hair. “…all that gym-juice…wonder if you even have one…anymore…”
Growling, Benedict swung around and landed four hard lashes against Diane’s stomach, each exploding in burns and smoke. Diane screamed under the lashing and shook in her metal bonds, trying to escape with an animalistic instinct. After visible effort, Benedict stopped himself and turned the glowing crop off, walking back to his lackeys and grabbing some paper and a pen, thrusting it in front of the sobbing succubus.
“Here is what is going to happen, slut. You are going to sign this Binding Contract - not the watered-down kind, this is a full-on slavery deal - or I will beat your wife over there to death. Once you sign it, though, everything goes back to normal and I may even allow a conjugal visit if you’ve been extra nice.” He emphasized his point by clicking the pen and leering.
Although still angry, Honoka was brought back to the reality of the situation with that pen click and stopped struggling. This was going to happen, and she was helpless to do anything as an eighty-nine-pound woman.
An eighty-nine-pound woman…?
Hehehe.
Benedict reached forward to loosen the chains holding Diane up when he was distracted by some noise behind him, though he kept working. Only when he heard one of his boys curse that he spun around and saw the strangest of things.
Hope Banda is alone in her room right now. Much like the first time allocating with Diane, the transformation was slow, probably to let her body adjust to the change or some other magical reason. She had become familiar with horns pushing out of her head, but instead of the curling ridged pair that started above the ears and crawled up above her forehead, these were sharp and smooth, piercing out like the feeling of popping a giant zit when the thick bones grew and curved out of her temples and jutted outward from her head with black points forward. She was not familiar with the feeling of her face restructuring to this extreme. Her nose and jaw especially gaining more and different shapes with everything shifting under her skin like a 3D jigsaw puzzle being completed by invisible hands. Even her teeth grew and Honoka realized her entire head wasn’t just reshaping, it was growing.
With a tightening of the leather holding her in place, Honoka found she felt all of herself growing. Transforming into a succubus, her height changed and some new parts grew in, but the differences remained mostly in the realm of human standard. As a holstaur, everything grew into a much larger scale. Her skeleton transformed first, the bones bloating to four times their thickness, pushing Honoka’s skin to a painful tightness as it tried to keep her in one piece. Only for a moment, though, the bone volume needed to support the explosion of swoll that was about to come. And explode it did.
“MoooYEAH!!” Honoka lowed, hearing her voice deepen as her neck doubled in length and widened, veins supplying needed blood to fuel traps that grew and grew into a sloping V. Like a muscle set of dominoes, this triggered down to ever-widening shoulders and deltoids taking on the size and shape of basketballs. Honoka felt herself being pushed off the wooden X as lats joined the traps group and they both shoved back while the lats thickened under her arms in a perfect set of bodybuilder wings. Her arms were the first to gain real definition with their size, biceps and triceps cutting deep canyons in her skin as thick veins pulsed on top of other vessels, the blood surging throughout her body as it tried to feed bursting mass. Muscle fibers twitched with every breath, flooding her arms down the biceps, to the brachioradialis pushing the already massive biceps even higher, to the exploding pair of ulnar and radial flexors in her forearms fighting for space. Her fingers compressed together and her thumb thickened, going from five fingers to three large ones, closing them in a tight fist as she strained against the leather binding her.
I HAVE THE POWEEEER!! Letting out a cowish snort, Honoka strained her arms down against the bindings. While she did, she felt her ribcage radiate outward and pecs thicken so quickly the almost-holstaur woman thought her boobs were growing, but all she saw was massive muscles and erect nipples plumping outward. Looking upward, she met the stunned face of Benedict with a wicked bovine grin and put in some maximum effort to break free. The X had been well made and the straps were thick and heavy leather, but Honoka was gaining fifty pounds of muscle a second and it didn’t take long before the wood of the rack cracked then splintered, the transforming woman bringing her arms down with a roar amid the flying woodchips.
Straightening, Honoka found her perspective two feet taller and moving up, the rest of her body trying to finish the change. Fur sprouted from her shoulders, thicker down her back and then spreading towards her growing hips and thighs. Her dark skin turned a light pink but the pelt colored into a dark brown with some splotches of lighter brown. The flesh around her abdomen stretched as an eight pack and obliques fought for space and ballooned with strength, giving Honoka a fantastic feeling of balance and control. The Beast long ago retreated so the kidnappers gained a clear view as the meat of her thighs took on genuinely epic proportions, snapping the restraints holding her legs with only a minimum pressure as they tore through them. Her glutes joined the fun, expanding so quickly they pushed Honoka off the rack and she clopped to the ground, somewhere in all the sensation missing her feet turning into large hooves. For a moment, Honoka worried she would fall but instincts took over and she straightened, her size and mass now to the point where the straps around her wrists snapped and the bits of rack fell to the floor.
The three men in the room cowered, trembling even. From start to now, less than thirty seconds passed witnessing a mouse of a girl turn into a behemoth. What Race or Class did this monster have, they must think, that transforms her into the nightmare of abusive and controlling men?
Honoka loved to revel in the final parts of her allocation and the fur on her thighs were drenched from the erotic feeling of strength and power, but the furious woman hadn’t forgotten where they were and what she needed to do. Growing up the daughter of a woman descended from samurai warriors, Honoka recalled her martial arts training. Pulling her upturned fist to her hip, she lunged forward and punched a still shocked Benedict in the chest with the force of a wrecking ball and the sound of broken ribs, throwing him five feet into the air and crashing into the wall, Honoka’s kiai ringing in the room like a gunshot. As she turned to the other two men - one wiggling glowing fingers in front of him as the other tried to open the door - the holstaur woman nearly lost her balance when two breasts detonated onto her chest.
The sound of stretching skin and the obviously erotic sight of a woman’s breasts growing distracted the spellcaster. His fingers fumbled and a bolt of green light shot over Honoka’s head, showering the room in sparks. Honoka wanted nothing more than to bask in the feeling of ballooning breasts, her legs shaking a little as she uncontrollably rubbed her thighs together for a moment, but regained herself as she reached over and picked up the man with one hand by his shirt and slammed him bodily into the one who just opened the door. Honoka was amazed most of all at how light the man felt, it was like she held a paperback book in her hand instead of a two hundred pound adult.
“I can get used to this,” Honoka said with satisfaction, picking up the other man sprawled on the floor, lifting each lackey for a couple of reps like tiny aerobic barbells, her arm pythons moving with power as her breasts continued to fill and swell outward. Tossing them both into the corner of the room and shutting the door, Honoka took a moment to enjoy the warmth and stretching of smooth, pink skin under her fingers, the literal beach balls in her hands filling and pulling down with their massive weight. Honoka almost gushed when she realized no matter how large these tits got, this body exhibited the strength to hold them up with ease.
“Honoka, look out!”
The holstaur woman spun around, abruptly coming out of her arousal, but it was too late. Benedict, wheezing and holding his chest with one hand, thrust the other outward and spat out a phrase with a snarl, a ball of red fire three feet diameter shooting towards her. Honoka fell to the ground; however, her mass was against her as her back received grazing of the ball before it hit the wall near the lackeys and exploded, tossing mannequins and men aside with force and engulfing them in hot flames before dissipating in a magical, not-real-fire fashion, leaving only a lingering heat and two charred skeletons. That entire half of the room was now a destroyed vertical crater, the concrete wall exposing glowing, hissing rebar.
Adrenalin pushing the pain aside, Honoka scrambled to her feet. Three giant steps across the floor, she raised one ungulated foot high into the air and then brought it down with the sound of the largest egg cracking, Benedict’s head a mess of red blood and gray brains underneath her hoof.
Breathing roughly, looking down at what she just executed, the young woman who was so shy she hardly spoke to anyone, tried to find if she felt horror or guilt. Vividly, she remembered a time when she was on the ground, girls from the school basketball team picking on the mongrel shorty as they took turns kicking her in the head. The memory fading, Honoka found only disgust remained. The reality of seeing someone’s head cracked open was not as sanitized as fictional media led her to believe, nor was the smell of excrement mingling with the blood and the ashes of cooked people helping her stomach as she felt bile rising, but she did not feel guilty. Looking up at Diane, the succubus’ face draining of color and her mouth open in shock, the currently holstaur girl saw all the horror and guilt she did not feel.
“Why don’t I feel bad?” Honoka asked, her voice cracking as she looked back down at the corpse. For a moment, her mind saw one of those basketball girls instead of a cooling body. Without noticing, some tears dropped to the floor, splashing in the blood. “I want to kill him again, I feel like it would make me happy.” Turning her face back up to the succubus, she openly wept now. “Diane, why do I feel this way?”
Diane didn’t have an answer, but she would regret not giving one.
********************
The police descended on Solomon’s brothel like a Biblical plague.
In the lead and in full tactical gear, Sergeant Miner led the charge. Dozens of officers burst through every entrance and some windows, flashbangs and even automatic bursts of gunfire going on inside the converted warehouse. Screaming clients and prostitutes spilled out into the waiting arms of even more cops. Two police choppers spun overhead and shown lights upon any movement. In real-time, the raid only lasted fifteen minutes, but it was very intense as SWAT escorted escorts and their Johns and Janes out of the front in cuffs and zip ties.
News vans and reporters crowded behind the yellow tape and one lucky cameraman nabbed the shot of two women wrapped in blankets, an African American and an Irish American, escorted by Sergeant Miner who handed each girl a purse before putting them in a squad car and driving away. This footage was ignored mainly for the real story. A giant of a man, whorled blue skin and jutting teeth emerging in all his demonic visage, dressed in a tailored suit and notably walking without cuffs to be questioned outside of the range of cameras by two detectives. The elusive Solomon Church had avoided any previous public appearances and catching him on film was a network’s dream. Before tonight, some people even wondered if he actually existed.
What the news media didn’t notice, nor did the detectives or anyone else, was the small camera in one hand that the incubus casually held, his massive fist completely hiding it from view. If any saw it, they probably wouldn’t think much of a pimp holding a ProGo.
“It was self-defense, anyone would see that.” Driving the squad car, Philip Miner had his lights flashing to ease his way quickly through traffic, talking to assure the women in the back seat. “The ME’s going to say it, I’m going to report it, that’s the end of it.” He turned right at one road and zoomed past stopped cars. “Isn’t a DA that would bother fighting that. First, we’ll take you to a hospital to check you out, but only so much they can do for a succubus so I’ve called Georgia and she’s on her way to top you off.”
“Thanks,” Diane said, meaning it, but it wasn’t in her voice. She stared at her wife and didn’t know what to say. Honoka seemed disconnected, wrapped in her blanket and looking out the window at nothing. “Hono-chan…”
“I’m fine,” Honoka replied, not looking away from the window. She didn’t sound depressed or anxious, just flat.
“Georgia is going to probably give you the riot act, Di,” Philip kept talking, either not noticing the drama or trying to break through it. “When I told her you both eloped with two other women without a chance for her to put on a proper wedding, I lost the hearing in one of my ears.” He chuckled a little, but the police officer wasn’t good at keeping a conversation going so the three lapsed into an awkward silence.
“I want to go home,” Honoka suddenly announced, eyes still peering out the window. “Can you just take me home?”
Philip looked back, his face concerned. Diane leaned forward against plastic separating the front and back, agony upon her face and in her voice. “Please?” she asked, her eyes going back to Honoka with the unspoken need for her wife to recover.
Not saying anything, Philip found an intersection and swung the car around, heading back towards Norwood. It didn’t take long, but turning into a familiar cul-de-sac and shutting off his lights, Philip parked and turned around to look both women over.
“I’m doing this under protest, potions are not a substitute for a doctor. Georgia will come by in about an hour and see if you need anything. I am going to request some officers be parked out here for the next couple of days for your safety. You don’t get to argue with me about it. Also, regulations require a psychiatrist meet with both of you in the next week.” He exited and opened the door to let them out. “Call me if you need anything.”
Honoka didn’t say anything as she walked up to the door of her building, producing her pink bag from under the blankets and unlocking the door. Diane gave the closest person she thought of as a father a desperate look and then followed her wife into the dark stairway. Honoka went up quickly because when the succubus arrived at the apartment the shower was already running. Opening her purse Philip recovered in that basement, Diane discovered a lot of missed calls and texts from a worried Banda and Eve. Of course, when Honoka allocated, Banda went out of her mind wondering what happened. Diane sent off some texts and the girls were on their way. Georgia had also tracked down and called Uzume, Honoka’s mother, the Japanese mother-in-law leaving a few urgent messages on the succubus’ phone.
“I am too young to deal with in-law drama,” the succubus lamented, firming her resolve and walking into the bathroom. The water rained down from the showerheads, yet it didn’t sound like Honoka was moving, so Diane sat on the tub and didn’t enter. “Banda and Eve are on their way over, will be here in a little over an hour. Your mom also heard the news from Georgia so you need to call her soon.”
“Ok.”
The water turned off and Honoka stepped out, dripping water on the tile. When she tried to go past Diane, the succubus inhaled sharply, seeing extensive bubbled burns on the back of Honoka’s head and back, a lot of her hair at her neck singed to ash from the final fire attack. Grabbing the black woman, Diane turned her around to examine the damage. “Honoka, why didn’t you say anything?! Stay right here while I fetch a healing salve.”
“It's fine, I don’t feel it,” Honoka replied, trying to break out of the grip and continue into the other room. “I’m tired and just want to go to bed.”
“What is wrong?” Diane pleaded, conflicted between holding her and getting the salve, eventually relenting and going to her supplies. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
“I said I’m fine,” the black hermaphrodite repeated with rising irritation, walking to the bed, throwing off the covers and crawled under them, still wet but pulling them over her head.
Diane came over with the salve and pushed the covers back, rubbing some of the yellow glowing ointment into her hand. “You are not fine. I think you feel bad about killing a man. You shouldn’t feel bad, he tried to kill you.”
“NO!!” Honoka shouted, turning around kicking off the covers, knocking the salve out of Diane’s hands. “I don’t care about that sick lowlife, he deserved to die! I wanted him to die! But when I looked over at your face, I saw it.” Honoka bent forward and nearly touched their noses together, her intense stare so close. “I can still see it: your disgust at marrying a murderer. You’re terrified of me! You’re probably asking yourself how you can love someone so FILTHY!!” Pushing the stunned succubus off of the bed, Honoka hyperventilated as she looked down at her hands.
“Honoka, I…I love you,” Diane pleaded, but the slight pause, no matter that it came from distress and not doubt, only appeared to confirm Honoka’s delusions.
“And you,” Honoka said, her mind unable to stay focused, reached between her legs at the erect penis as if she wanted to tear it off and wincing from the burns. “Always controlling me, never letting up, ruining my life, all I ever wanted was to be normal.” The last phrase was said in a croaking whisper, her eyes moving upwards towards the kitchen. Diane followed her gaze and saw the knife block.
At the same time, they looked back at each other, then Honoka jumped off the bed. Diane scrambled desperately to follow, diving into a low tackle as the two naked women struggled against one another.
“Let me go! I want to be clean! I want to be normal!” Honoka cried as she fought to crawl closer to the kitchen. Diane proved stronger and eventually, the black woman collapsed and bawled in the embrace of her wife. An hour later, forgetting to lock the door, Eve and Banda walked in on the two women still holding each other while they sobbed on the kitchen floor.
