Darkbitch
by Rikku Hakumei
Chapter 2

Chapter 2 length: 3524 words, excluding epigraph
Chapter 2 codes: Hdom HF FF mc nc

Story summary: A mysterious anomaly that threatens to engulf the world is centered on one girl, whose vision of a society ruled by busty hermaphroditic intellectuals begins to come to fruition against the desires of a few young government heroines.

This is the plain-text version of "Darkbitch." Minor edits have been made to the story in order to avoid italics, because there is no adequate ASCII alternative.

This story is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States license, in addition to any other restrictions imposed by ASSTR.
this license can be found here: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/
you must attribute this text to "Rikku Hakumei" or to "http://www.asstr.org/~Hakumei/" if you reuse it.

my website: http://www.asstr.org/~Hakumei/
my blog: http://rikkuhakumei.insanejournal.com/

-Rikku

****



"I'm not pretty, not a bit--
Thin and sallow-pale;
When I trudge along the street
I don't need a veil:
Yet I have one fancy hit.

Jess and Jill can trill and sing
With a flute-like voice,
Dance as light as bird on wing,
Laugh for careless joys:
Yet it's I who wear the ring."
-Christina Rossetti, A Ring Posy


****


With an awkward jolt, eyes wild, visage pained, the Darkbitch awakened and searched frantically among the tangle of bodies scattered around the huge, disarrayed, semiunduvetted bed for her favorites. Within a few seconds she found Jade with her hand up candidate-hottie Kaia's still-somehow-half-on dress and Akiko comprehensively entangled with another prefect electee, the sleek, full-lipped, tenné Tsadi. They awakened at her touch and snapped into near-instant attentive obedience.

“Girls, hold me,” she asked wearily.

A well-practiced maneuver -- a request borne of an occurrence that was happening with disturbing frequency. Jade snuck around behind and pulled her Goddess's head atop her nude breasts, massive and cool, forgiving to the touch. Akiko descended from above, plastering her muscular body atop her owner's – warm, soothing, sensual. They met for a breathless kiss, the Darkbitch at first seeming weary, defeated, but soon reinvigorated, attacking with furious energy, slipping her tongue in, invading, conquering, taking her fill and then gliding gently to the side.

Aki, not asking, knowing: “Another nightmare.”

“They ignored me, shunned me, already, the weird kid, something wrong with me, knew too much and not enough. Then someone stole my diary, found out about the girl I had a crush on. The ones who laughed at me were the kindest. Then there was the cunt who tried to get me expelled. Marisa! Where the fuck is Marisa? Bring her in here.”

Jade, softly, repeating yesterday, the day before: “My Goddess. Kennedy. Remember. She's dead.”

Pause. “Right. I killed her. ...Right.”

Pause again. “Well... that's good then. Jade, remind me again why that venomous snake still hunts me?”

“A side effect of your power, Goddess. Your dreams are more vivid the more you control. We can't sedate them without affecting either your power or your mind. But the lab thinks once you psychologically grow into your power, so to speak, the dreams will become less painful.”

“Maybe so. But this time something new happened. The Silver Squad girls. For some reason they were there with the rest, mocking me, taunting me.”

Akiko spoke up: “You shouldn't watch them anymore until they're yours. I'll have someone trusted watch the cameras. Just distract yourself here until tonight, and you'll never have to worry about them again.”

With a sigh of resignation and acceptance, the Darkbitch refocused herself.

“Okay, fine. Good plan. Anyway, I have to piss like a racehorse. Open wide, Aki.”

Slowly, languorously, the domina's organ stretched from what had been smooth, pale skin, now present, now fearsome, engorged, ready for release. Aki touched it gently, moved into position, guided the cock, sent an eager shudder through it.

“I am honored to have the chance to taste your delicious nectar, my Goddess.”

“Yeah, I know you are, thrall – unnngh, ah, here it comes. Fuuuuuck.”


****

Eri Kalnia woke up confused. Where was she? This wasn't her home, her bed, which was – she couldn't quite remember, but it was different. Her own body obstructed her field of view (these aren't my breasts. These are, like, huge. I'm supposed to be a – um, something. Not this. This isn't right.) She jumped off the bed, sending her naked boobs (why am I sleeping naked?) jiggling wildly, and walked over to a large mirror on the other side of the room to get a better look at herself, over exquisite soft carpet, strangely familiar.

Her eyes, at least, she recognized – irides clear blue like a summer sky, intense, poised, alert, searching, an index to the emergency stance she'd reflexively dropped into, knees bent, low to the ground, arms extended for balance, waiting for an unseen enemy, simultaneously making her tenser because she sensed danger, and more relaxed because at least this pose was familiar. Familiar from training (training from where?) The eyes, the pose, then. And the broad outline of the face, if nothing else, although she couldn't remember being stunned at her own appearance in a mirror. It wasn't a radical transformation, but a lot seemed off – lips too full, nose too cute, lashes too perfect. Her skin seemed a shade or two paler. Or three. Or maybe it wasn't different at all, just reblended, unblemished. (Why can't I remember anything?) She grappled and groped in her mind, searching for slicked-up memories that slipped from her hands, or bowled over her, too massive to handle, like a man-sized halibut.

Eri was still staring down the mirror-image, as if expecting it to attack her, when the dorm's doorknob moved, the door flung open, and a tall, pale girl, facing away from her, with long, watery black hair, about Eri's height (I'm supposed to be shorter... I think so, anyway), carrying huge, bulbous melons barely restrained by an abbreviated red leather top (boobs like mine), ass bulging out through matching red shorts. Eri didn't recognize her until she walked over to the other bed, sat on the edge, turned around and faced her, bore deep into her with green eyes, the cliché is "piercing green eyes" but these really did pierce into her soul and remove a veil.

Suddenly she knew. She remembered everything. The hot girl waiting patiently on the bed was Jade, her immediate mistress and owner, provider of pain and pleasure, her best friend since middle school. (Wait, is that true? I'm not sure I can remember the det-- Don't be silly, Eri, of course it is.) It was she who had recruited her as a mole inside the Silver Squad, to betray the government, her friends, her twin sister Amy – to introduce them to the world of servitude to the Darkbitch she shared with Jade. Now she was back on course. Eri understood the way of things, and she regretted that she had ever forgotten. A sublime smile spread in stop-motion across her super-cute face, soon dazzling and ecstatic. Pleasure coursed through her body, outward-in, inward-out, almost indescribable. Pleasure at knowing her purpose, as a cog in the Darkbitch's grand design, as a pleasure-bringer and pleasure-receiver; but also as a human being, for proper service required creativity and passion, the highest qualities of humanity. The feeling faded away, leaving the dull afterglow that followed all of her Goddess's satisfied servants.

“Eri, you wanted to try out for the cheerleading squad." A pause as something else shifted. "Right?”

It hadn't been true, but it was now. Eri nodded eagerly.

“Well, let's get going – they're already starting at the gym. Wear something skin-tight. Don't worry, I'll walk you there.”


****

Jordan Meian also woke up confused, but the fire-haired battle vixen's disorientation was only momentary. Quickly she adjusted to her situation – blindfolded and gagged; embarrassingly cold and naked, shackled to a wall by the arms, legs and neck; a position she'd been in, at least during training, dozens of times before. While trying to get free with various wriggling techniques, she soon remembered what had happened. Her train in had just stopped, after nine hours, in front of that villainous academy's gate when dozens of huge, muscular women – mostly with tan or dark skin but a few much paler; uniformly with long hair and twisted demonic twinkles in their eyes – flung open the door, streamed into the aisleway, found her door and crowded inside her cabin, apparently to seize her.

She had tried to fight them off, but in the narrow confines of the cabin she had no chance. Eventually, one of the girls, a violet-haired, pale-skinned vampiress-type with delicate features, stuck out her massive arm, extended what looked like a claw and thrust it into Jordan's neck while four others held her down. She had been injected with some drug, she assumed, as she remembered nothing since then. There seemed to be no lingering effects – she felt alert, clear-headed and ready to fight anything or anyone daring to stand in her way, if she could only see or move more than an inch.

Suddenly there was a warm hand against her stomach. Caught off guard, Jordan jerked back in her restraints and tried to cry out through the gag. In a second there was another hand on her ass; it felt like it belonged to the same person, though she couldn't be sure. The hand on her stomach moved up to massage her boobs, while the hand on her butt swooped down to stroke her muscular thighs. The hands continued groping and exploring for some indeterminate amount of time, sometimes careful and delicate, sometimes strong and crude. Just as Jordan was beginning to get aroused despite herself, her unknown manipulator stopped – then, as a bit of an afterthought, harshly twisted a nipple, eliciting another gag-muffled cry.

A passionate, somewhat rough female voice spoke: “Not bad, but she could use some improvement before tonight. As expected. Ino, remove the blindfold and the gag.”

With one swift motion, the straps holding the blindfold and gag were slashed through. The blindfold quickly fell to the floor, so she could see Ino – who was the violet-haired girl with the claws from earlier, now extended on the left – finish her task by sticking her right hand into Jordan's mouth and pulling the gag out. Jordan tried to bite Ino's fingers, but caught only empty air.

“She's a naughty girl, isn't she, Mistress Akiko?” waggishly queried Ino in a tinkling, music-box, teenage voice. (The girl looked like a teen fashion model above the neck, but was six inches taller than Jordan and could probably bench-press her.)

“That she is,” affirmed Akiko, who turned out to be the owner of the husky voice from earlier. “But we'll fix that. Jade's scientists have made a lot of progress this week in isolating the effects of the anomaly, and deploying them in concentration. If she had come in last week, we would have had to laboriously replicate everything, and the Darkbitch would have had to lie down and take a nap from the power drain. But now... we have this.”

With a flourish, Akiko stepped out of the shadows obscuring the edges of the room – part of some sort of military command center, as far as Jordan could tell from the computers and monitors of security camera footage she saw in the distance. She was holding a huge gun, almost the size of a rocket launcher, that tapered off into a thin barrel. Most of the mass of the weapon was devoted to a complicated device in the rear, at the center of which was a glowing white-violet orb of light protected by a hard plastic shell. Jordan thought about saying something, but it clearly wasn't worth negotiating. Whatever they were going to do, they were serious, and she wasn't likely to talk them out of it.

Akiko wasn't wasting any more time. She lifted the gun – with some slight effort despite her massive bulk, even more impressive than Ino's. Jordan wasn't the best mentalist on the squad, but she knew her last chance when she saw it. With all the reserves of psychic energy she could muster, she tried to grab Akiko's mind. For a second, she thought she had succeeded. It had certainly felt like it. But when she tried to push Akiko to put the gun down, or to say something, nothing happened. She tried to access Akiko's memories, but met only emptiness. Jordan's face fell as realization slowly dawned on her – somehow, they had nullified her powers without her even noticing. As she desperately tried to remember how to test her mind for blocks and backdoors, she noticed Akiko was cracking up. The asshole was laughing at her! And what could she say to that, anyway? She sort of deserved it.

“Heh... I see you noticed. No, you can't use your powers. Jade went through your memories while you were out cold and found, well, let's just say dozens of techniques you would be vulnerable to. We chose this one because we thought it would be the funniest. Watching you exult, thinking you'd already won, only to realize, seconds later, how badly you'd lost – you've got to grant, it was hilarious.”

“Fuck you! You have no right to enslave me!” Jordan finally said. Not Pulitzer material, but she got her point across, such as it was.

“My dear Jordan Meian... you're already enslaved. I've come to free you. Before long, we'll make sure you agree.”

And Akiko fired. The violet orb practically supernovaed -- its harsh white-violet light filled most of the room. After a split-second lag, some sort of energy beam, the same hue of violet but darker, burst out of the barrel and hit Jordan in the forehead. Searing pain shot through her body as over a day's worth of physical transformations manifest simultaneously. Jordan's breasts and ass ballooned; her muscular legs lost a small amount of definition while her lankier arms gained some, while the restraints somehow adjusted themselves to accommodate the changes. Her somewhat stubby neck became swanlike and graceful; her straight dyed-burgundy hair grew down to her ass but retained its color. She couldn't see if anything was happening to her face, but there was more pain there than anywhere.

But something was beginning to shift, to become unmoored in Jordan's mind, to slide under like a subducted tectonic plate. The pain, the light, the super-stark sense of reality and awareness her training gave her – they all faded into fuzzy nothingness. Akiko was still in front of her, fondling the new expanse of her ass, which sometimes she could feel and sometimes not; she saw the still-taller woman in double or triple vision, or in a variety of twisted colors. A thread of vestigial revulsion at the violation was never cleanly severed, but faded out into neutrality, then pleasure. Memories and self-awareness were buffeted by unceasing warm waves, sometimes remaining as island outposts, sometimes cleanly submerged, and sometimes eroded or altered into unrecognizability.

At first she knew what was going on, and couldn't stop it; then she couldn't remember why she wanted to; and, at last, she began to recall the truth – that her transformation was a good thing, regenerative, dynamic, and, before long, pleasurable. An inner pleasure of the deepest province of her mind or soul, the pleasure of enlightenment, gradually caused an outward pleasure, a quivering, dripping wetness that sent her vibrating in her restraints again, but sounding a new note. Still, she was not quite aware. She hardly saw Akiko turn around and leave to check on something, and barely heard the woman say something about putting Ino in charge of the girl, and something about a reward. The words vibrated in her mind but pinballed out and echoed into far space, barely leaving an impression.

Suddenly Jordan's vision refocused itself, and her consciousness followed. She saw Ino coming towards her, stride by confident stride, deliciously smirking; in the same form, she saw her Mistress, her immediate owner; a manifestation of the divine Darkbitch, like a local shrine at which she could pay homage, to participate in the grand machinery, the true order. Ino, still an inch or two taller than the new Jordan, fiddled with something above Jordan's right shoulder, which released the restraints with a loud snap. There was hunger, pleasurable anticipation, and lust in Ino's eyes. Jordan, projecting her own devotion, visualizing her perfect owner, thought she saw kindness or even love.

Ino's kiss was hot, wet, quivering passion, two sets of fat supernatural hypersensitive lips locked, tongues dancing, trying hard to smear lipstick that can't be smeared – Ino's a dark, musky plum; Jordan's a blinding day-glo pink – intertwined in holy communion. A break, attempted but aborted, as Ino returns to the source of pleasure frantically, explores further – a finger slid into Jordan's sanctum sanctorum down below; a mental nudge that Jordan should reciprocate, and as the burgundy-haired former Silver Squad agent manipulated the young soldier's folds, gradually drawing out Ino's unfeminine shaft from the once-bare skin above, both lose the presence of mind to think about getting to one of the beds in the back. Ino got aggressive at the same time as she hit Jordan's most electric spot and she arched in enhanced pleasure, paralyzed, and lacked any strength to resist, even instinctively, with Ino pushing her to the hard black floor, a bit cold but what does it matter against all the pleasure?

And before anyone's thoughts are their own again Ino is spreading Jordan's legs and aiming maybe a foot of girlmeat and thrusting towards where it belongs. It's just enough to provoke an instinctive reaction that it's too big but Jordan's taller now, and stronger, and anatomically changed, so it's really not that bad, maybe a bit painful at first thrust as Ino can push a bit too hard, too cruelly, a wild grin on her face. But soon they get into a groove and she's bucking back enthusiastically, it's more familiar, like the lonely nights with her huge toys in the base, missing her home, or the ordinary-looking guy, an intern, that she dragged into a closet one day and basically raped, so desperate had she gotten – but those weren't good memories, and they could hardly compare to this, proper service, fulfilling her first new role as Ino's plaything, wonderful nonstop thrusting pleasure so the memories were washed over by a hot tide of forget it all and live in the moment.

Every sensation slowed down as she felt Ino bucking, slowing, spurting stream upon stream, something hot, sweet-smelling, not like what males had left on her or in her but different in almost every way except the texture. A couple of squirts on her naked, newly enhanced chest and on the face she still hadn't seen revealed that it was a pale pink color. Jordan's own body pulsed again and again, in almost continuous orgasmic bliss, as she had been since the first kiss, and only a minute or two later, as Ino was getting dressed, putting on the tight black latex uniform that the soldiers in the corners were wearing, did Jordan slowly begin to return to reality.


****

With a heavy sigh, Leah Smithson pulled herself away from the reports on her laptop, and stood up. After abandoning a half-hearted effort to tidy up the mess of binders, files and sheer paper detritus strewn across the desk, she pulled out a key from an inner pocket in her pantsuit's jacket, moved a file cabinet out of the way, and unlocked the door that led to her tiny apartment. There was plenty of security outside her office door; still, Leah had needed to talk a superior out of another retinal scan and pass code in front of the mini-apartment – if anyone was standing in her office who wasn't supposed to be there, Leah felt it was unlikely they'd ignore the shocking and valuable government secrets strewn all around in order to go on a panty raid. Even so, they might be surprised at what they found in her dressers.

The door led directly to the bathroom, where, after swiftly and somewhat clumsily locking the door, the Silver Squad supervisor ransacked the medicine cabinet for some extra-strength headache pills, which she hastily swallowed dry. Holding her head, she proceeded to the darkened bedroom, stumbling around until she found her bed, not wanting any more light after the bathroom, not even a dim lamp. She hastily undressed and climbed into the bed wearing lacy burgundy lingerie that no one could see this evening, not even her, if she even felt like opening her eyes. Not for a lover, for herself; she liked her own form and sometimes wished she could climb into bed with a twin.

There was a jumble of thoughts in her head, many cut short by the pain: Stress headache, need to stop working so hard, can't – the future of the world is at stake, isn't it? Well, is it? How do I know, anyway? I've already sent three agents – the most delicious surprise of all – I feel bad because I don't know but what else can I do – no, it's not the same as that because they'll be recovered – but will she be? It will work, I know, we've proven it, we've tested it, but there's something in my stomach that tells me we aren't thinking clearly here – the fear is only supposed to show up near the anomaly, but it's almost like I feel it here, although it's just nervousness. Think of how many other times you've been nervous – but it's not just that, it's their destruction – you've wanted to have them yourself, how can you blame them – the destruction of the innocents – but it's all her fault – how many will we sacrifice? I'm doing the right thing. I'm doing the right thing – yeah, just keep telling yourself that.

She rolled over and tried hard to think of something pleasant, and didn't succeed, looping back through the same thought patterns again and again – but before long she was out cold from exhaustion.