Princess Grace's Castle

musk

#exhibitionism #gasmask #hypnogas #hypnosis #latex #maids #masshypnosis #masturbation #Modemoiselle #Murdermaids #musk #skunkgirl #supervillainy #syringes #transformation

“Hey, kid!”

“Wanna tail?”

“First one's free!”

Two identical maids alternate calls to passers-by, grabbing and twirling around what was a phone booth* in a previous life. Now it's more like a nine foot tall metal gazebo** that shot up through the sidewalk like a tree. The pair grab the sides and twirl around it, shouting their message to all who walk by.

“I don't get it, 12, what are we doing wrong?” One of them sighs and lets the booth prop her up. “Is my bow on straight?”

“We're both adorable.” 12 blows her pink streak out of her eye and makes sure her ribbon collar proudly displays her number. “What kind of city is this where people won't give two maids standing next to a transformation booth the time of day?”

“Maybe they think it'll turn them into a maid.”

“It will, though.”

“Sure, but it doesn't have to turn them into one of us.”

“I dare you to find a button on that control panel that doesn't say 'maid' or 'butler'.”

“Just get in the box, I'll show you.”

“It's more like a cylinder or an octagon.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell me how it looks inside.” 14 gives 12 a nudge, and the big metal door slams shut behind her. This sort of thing needs a little drama to it.

Fourteen clears her throat. Each side of the gazebo is a screen that flickers to life, showcasing the other maid's predicament to the world. “Come one, come all! See the life that could await YOU with just a step into Modemoiselle's Patented Life-Affirming Chamber of Wonders!”

“It's not a carnival ride, it's a-”

“An experience of a lifetime! Try on your fursona! Adjust your bust! Still using that boring old gender your mom got you? The sky's the limit!” With the trademark razzle-dazzle you'd expect from one of Modemoiselle's hypemaids, she smashes her hand across the control panel.

The machine whirs to life. The telltale pressurized hiss of hypnogas venting into the chamber is amplified and replayed onto the street. Twelve's black gloved hand balls into a fist, going limp before it can even contact the door once. Her eyes go from brown to red and quickly to shimmering, swirling pink.

A crowd is gathering outside. Onlookers range from morbidly curious to asking Fourteen how to get their turn. Questions get a wink, a blown kiss, and maybe a front-row seat to the next time she twirls.

Speakers inside the booth interfere with each other to create inescapable webs of mind-soupifying siren song. Her eyes roll back into her head just in time to reveal the whites giving way to shifting pink spirals, pierced by veiny green circuit traces.

“How do you get their eyes to do that? Is there a chemical change going on or projectors or what?” A curious twink asks.

“It's simple.” Fourteen slaps the side of the changing booth like she's selling a car. “Miss Modemoiselle's classified cocktail both temporarily scrambles a subject's mental state and their cellular structure. Normally, this has to be done in moderation, but in the controlled environment of the changing booth, we can have a lot more fun. For example!” She twirls on her heel, smashes a few buttons, and throws one of the big Frankenstein-ass switches.

Black and pink latex drips from the ceiling. Twelve's swirling eyes vanish under twin pink eyehole screens. What's playing at the Gas Mask Duoplex? The nice spirals it's currently drilling into her skull with pictures of what a good skunkdrone she'll be and all the good words to have burned into your brain and how very, very erotic this whole experience is for a good girl like yourself. The vents on the front force gas out of the air and up your nose and throat, juuust to make sure you weren't cheating by holding your breath or something. That would be a bad girl thing to do, after all.

What used to be a modest pink streak in a head of blonde hair now takes up the entire front right quadrant. It's currently the last part of Twelve's head not hidden behind a bubbling latex gas mask. Cables snake from hidden corners and find well-worn places to jack in. Twelve was no stranger to having her genes hacked- no Murdermaid was- which should tell you how good it feels when she drops to her knees and starts drooling and moaning with bliss. Pink and green crackling electricity surge up the cables, across the mask, and into Twelve. A bulge pushes at the back of her maid dress. It's rising. Growing. And, finally, a big ol' skunk tail bounces into place. Pink stripe down the middle, splitting impossibly soft black fur. She gives it a few experimental swishes before tucking it between her legs and mindlessly humping away. Eyes rolled up into her head and drool dripping down her formerly immaculate outfit. Good girls don't get to finish without permission, of course, but it feels good to grind. It feels so good.

Pleasure is all that matters. Flashed the screen inches from her eyes. Pleasure is bliss, bliss is pleasure, Modemoiselle is bliss.

“How do you feel?” Fourteen smugly leans against the outside of the Changing Booth, arms crossed and microphone in hand. Her voice echoes out into the street and directly into Twelve's head.

“However you want me to feel~” Twelve moans.

Good girl. You feel good.”

Pleasure, the mask reminded.

“I figured that one out alreadyyyyy~” Ooh, someone found the sweet spot on the tail. She's panting and moaning up a storm.

“And you're going to feel like standing up and giving the tail a break.”

Twelve dutifully rises to her booted feet, swishing her tail in an effort to try and squeeze just a little stimulation out of this whole situation.

“And you're going to be very friendly to all the nice people. Your usual maidly self. Nice, smart, kind of a tightass sometimes, and dispenses kisses to cute girls in maid outfits. But your tail is going to have a mind of its own. It's Miss Modemoiselle's tail you're wearing, after all, and you're so pent up with musk.”

“So pent uuuuh~p.” Twelve repeated. Tail swishing impatiently.

“So pent up. Good girls wait until they're called. Brain off.” Fourteen snaps her fingers, and Twelve's pink, swirling eyes roll back into her head.

The eyescreens turn to static. A few drops of drool roll down her chin.

Off.

“As you can see, my lovely volunteer is having the time of her life, is experiencing bold new things, and has a body she loves!” Fourteen “accidentally” leans against one of the sliders, and Twelve's front bulge arcs with electricity as it doubles in size. “The spiral projectors targeting her eyes ensure the experience is a blissful one, and is simply a more focused version of the one shining into your eyes right now. Same with the speakers. Now, everyone give a round of applause to our guest of honor, Murdermaid Twelve!”

Twelve hears her name and jerks awake. The inch-thick steel door slides out of the way, spilling thick pink hypnomusk onto the sidewalk. She steps into the crowd, tail swishing hungrily, just waiting for a victim. Everyone steps away. “Jeez, what'd you do? This place was a ghost town before.”

Fourteen, smiling like a catgirl who caught the maid in the transformation booth, stands next to her friend and leans on her shoulder. She reaches down and takes a nice handful of freshly grown 12 cock. “Oh, just gave the people a little taste. How's things?”

“I feel like there's something you're not telling me.” Twelve looks around. She's cute when she's confused. So is Fourteen. Well, less confused and more surprised by the big black and pink fluffy tail currently enveloping her head and smothering her brain with musk. The poor thing's eyes roll back in her head even quicker than her test subject's. She goes limp, letting her chin rest in the tail. She drops the microphone, sending a sharp squeal over the crowd.

Try and put yourself in Twelve's shoes. They're very cute and well-polished, like the rest of you. You're only vaguely aware you have an evil hypnoskunk tail coming out of your backside, the only person who did know what's happening is currently having their brain melted by you, and the microphone that controls the mind-jacking speakers aimed at the crowd just rolled against your foot. The hypnoscreens in front of you are your only way of seeing the world, and they helpfully point out the microphone and you could use it to make these people help you feel good. Bliss is pleasure. Modemoiselle is pleasure. Modemoiselle is obedience.

Oh, and then your maid friend lunges at you and kisses a bunch of pure Modemoiselle musk into your mouth and strokes your hair and calls you a good girl until your hair is a mess and your mind has kinda been dissolved in musk and you just wanna kiss girls and do crimes and you know just how to do both of them.

The tail coils around both maids. They both hold the microphone, and they speak in unison. “We're gonna turn the machine all the way up and start making out in there and see what happens. Anyone who wants to join us is guaranteed a job afterwards~” A few tailswishes disperse the mind-fogging musk over the crowd. About a dozen people, ranging from the curious twink from earlier to people who, frankly, never stood a chance against something like this.

The booth doors slide open.

And close.

The screens flicker off, the speakers click quiet, and yet, anyone outside can hear the faint sounds of getting your brain fucked silly by the biggest cock you've ever seen while you're high on brain-sizzling hypnomusk and having your genes hacked by a supervillain.


“Miss, booth L is down again.”

“Twelve and Fourteen?”

“How'd you guess?”

“They do this every time I put them together. They go off script, start a huge orgy in the booth, forget everything in an orgasmic haze, and repeat.”

“So, how long does this, uh.”

“If you hurry, you can make it before they find the pleasure-linked hive mind button. Take the subway, the roads get backed up after the musk leak.”


* for the younguns, imagine a big smart phone you stand inside and try not to catch diseases from.

** https://www.netfunny.com/rhf/jokes/98/Jul/gazebo.html

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#furry #hypnosis #Modemoiselle #musk #ponygirl #ShowStoppers #skunkgirl #transformation

This post is part 1 in a series of 2. The other post in this series is: Part 2

“Wakey wakey, dear~” Modemoiselle coos. “How'd you sleep?”

“Fine, thanks! I was having this dream about-” A big black tail with a pink stripe down the middle whaps against her face. If she said anything else, it turned into useless muffled shouts and blissful moaning.

“Falling under a dashing supervillainess's spell? Her big, heavy tail smothering your thoughts with impossibly soft fluff? Uselessly trying to resist her intoxicating musk?”

The raven-haired girl on the bed tried to push the tail away, but her hands simply sank inside.

“You're going to have to be more clever than that, dear. It's so soft and plush. I know for a fact it's more comfortable than this pile of straw you call a bed~” Modemoiselle pushes on the bed and listens to the springs creak. “Let yourself sink into the sweet spot.” Her tail coils around the heroine's head, enveloping it from every angle. “Just five more minutes~”

A flash of light paints every surface in the room. The heroine's human form shrunk into a black bird, furiously flapping free of the tail and blowing the thick pink musk all throughout the room. “Modemoiselle!” She cawed. “You have to get up pretty early to beat The Raveness!”

“Dear, where were you I woke you up? I hope you won't be this much of a birdbrain when I'm done with you.” Modemoiselle sighs and swishes her tail. “Empty? Sure. A puppet, dancing to my whims? Obviously. Constantly fawning over her perfect Miss Modemoiselle? Naturally. But not a dipshit. I thought you were the clever one.”

“I was clever enough to disarm that dream bomb you were about to detonate over the city! I pecked the circuit board to pieces myself!” The raven dive-bombed the supervillainess, only to be handily swatted from the air. Wasn't that tail supposed to be soft?

“Are you sure about that, dear? You didn't notice anything strange about, say, going out to dinner afterwards?”

“We sent you to prison! How did you know about that?”

“First of all, you sent me to jail. Jail is where you go to await trial. I'd only be sent to prison if I was convicted. Birdbrain. Didn't you go to law school?” She sticks her tongue out. “Try to think back, dear. This is much less fun if I have to do all the work.” She snaps her fingers.

“I had to drop out when She Who Caws gave me her blessing.” Raveness grumbles. “You don't get to choose whether you're the next Night's Own Wings.”

The end table stretches into one of the many tables on the well-worn hardwood floor. The bed vanishes when Modemoiselle takes the quilt off and swishes it into a checkered tablecloth. She catches the Raveness in a chair as she's shunted back to human form. “You had the red, if I recall.” Liquid glass pours from the ceiling into a wine glass shape. A blonde waitress with a telltale pink streak dutifully fills it with wine.

“We didn't disarm the bomb, did we?” She sighs as a lasagna plops from the sky in layers.

The world's most sarcastic game show bell rings from everywhere and nowhere. “Give the lady a prize! If you get two more right, you'll win a trip to fabulous Hawaii!”

“So the whole city is under your spell?”

“Ooh, good guess. You did, though sheer luck, manage to disable the dispersal unit and most of the sonic components. So the damage was limited to the handful of people in the clock tower. Which, lucky for me, includes all your little crimefighting friends.”

The restaurant collapses. The floors wipe from wood to glass, revealing the thick trunks of wire and tangle of machinery pulsing with power just beneath their feet. The walls push out into the darkness beyond even what the Night's Own Wings could see. The floor opens, and five pods rise into view. “See anyone you know?”

Raveness steps up to the sleek, curved-glass pods. She saw her friends- the four other members of the Merci City Victors- with their eyes closed. The digitally hypnotic tones of Modemoiselle's voice barely leaks through the glass. A steady stream of pink musk trickles into their lungs. Her fists thud harmlessly against the glass. Her raven form's beak makes a very cute little “tink!” sound.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to break the supervillain's evil machine while your friend's still in it? Not only do you not know what'll happen, she just might decide to retaliate.” Modemoiselle swishes her tail against the last pod in the row. Raveness rushes over to see herself, bombarded by the same subliminals and breathing the same hypnotic smoke.

Modemoiselle snaps her fingers. The gas turns from a thin pink wisp to thick, choking clouds. The girl in the pod clenches her thighs. A distinct wet spot develops on her suit and the other girl follows close behind. They moan in sweet, blissful unison~

The music gets louder. Raveness would almost be able to hear it through the glass if it wasn't pulsing through her head. The most vapid, bubbly pop music you could imagine. Cancelling out any sort of intelligent thought like how acids turn bases into simple, inert water. Modemoiselle's tail swishes to support her birdbrain's chin, and she happily sinks into it. Every now and again, she moans and struggles, but how do you beat an enemy that's in your brain and armed with an orgasm button? Especially one with such a lovely, soft tail. And who smells so wonderful. And who has such an amazing voice. The kind of voice you could just float on forever.

“That's better. You know, you never struck me as a bird. I always thought you'd be happier as something more... useful.” She snaps her fingers. The pod lights up with the orange glow and the telltale whir of stolen genetic technology. Raveness, of course, was far too busy emptily snuggling into the softest tail anyone's ever felt.

Raveness's body slowly slips into light again, but no feathers form. No beak pierces the light. She grows a long, dopey muzzle, the better to cuddle into Miss Modemoiselle's tail with. Her short black hair poofs and bounces into a big, healthy black bouffant with a pink swirl coiling into the middle. Pink circuitry pokes into her brown eyes and makes them big, bright, and brainwashed! Miss Modemoiselle looks so much better through pony eyes than silly human or bird ones! Golden brown fur washes over her body and seal off her hands and feet into silly, soft hooves. Much better for hugging Miss with and giving her rides! A big ol' black and pink tail with countless bouncy curls springs from the base of her spine.

“You make an awfully pretty pony, dear. I've outdone myself~” Modemoiselle coos, watching her musk empty out the rest of her newest pet's head.

“What else would I be, Miss?” She snuggles into the tail, eyelids heavy but determined to admire her Miss as much as possible. “I don't know what I'd do if I wasn't your pop star pony!” She lazily swishes her tail while the music in her head becomes the quiet background to her thoughts. Always there to remind her who she belonged to and what she loved to do more than anything.

“And what does that entail, dear~?” Modemoiselle teased.

“It means I get up on stage with all my friends and we all listen to the music and put on the best show we can! We all loooove performing for you!” She eagerly wags her pony tail. Her flanks proudly display her purpose in life- a microphone in front of her Miss's circuit heart logo.

“Perfect.” Modemoiselle rewards her pretty pony with a kiss on the forehead. Her big pink eyes flutter shut.

Back in the real world, a pod opens, letting pink fog spill out onto the ground. A ponygirl with a delicious golden brown coat, freshly grown hair, and absolutely no clothes to hide her horse cock climbs out.

“Wakey wakey, dear~” Modemoiselle coos. “How'd you sleep?”

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#cum #genitals #Grace #HappyCamper #hypnosis #musk #possession

This post is part 2 in a series of 4. The other posts in this series are: Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

It's hard to notice anything changing from one moment to the next. Sure, after an hour, the highlights in your hair are a little pinker and the circuitry in your mind is in a little deeper. You feel a little better and a lot cuter. But if you're Tina, it's hard to notice. If anyone was paying attention to her, they might notice the extra spring in her step, the way she lets her fingers trail along someone's arm when she's talking to them, the extra smiles. Nobody's ever heard her hum before.

“Jeez, Tina.” Millie teases. “When did you stop being such a gross nerd? You're almost fun to hang out with now.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Millie.” She thought. The swirling, crackling storm at the back of her head had other ideas.

Better ideas, like “She's cute, you should kiss her” and “She's super cute, you should hypnotize and then kiss her”.

Tina laughed. Her eyes flash a hungry pink when she looks at the popular girl. “I know you love me.”

“Was that a joke?” Millie sounded impressed. “Was that a joke from Tina 'My Favorite Movie Is Books' Neapolitan?” She rewards the shorter girl with a pat on the back and a laugh as she walked off. “Keep it up and you won't be eating lunch in the library any more.”

Tina huffed. She liked eating lunch in the library! But she also liked the idea of having Millie on her side. Or underneath her. Or looking up at her with needy eyes and begging to have her mind wrapped around her finger. Or brainwashed into a cute little maid for a few hours every day.

Mmph, that one struck a chord with her. Really struck. It was getting hard to think about anything else. Tina looked around.

Her tent. She set down the load of firewood she'd collected outside, zips up the flap behind her, and sits down on her sleeping bag. She pulls her skirt down and closes her eyes. All the better to focus on that image of Millie.

Big, tall Millie, a head taller than Tina before she put her heels on. Her eyes all pink and blue and swirly. Giggling while she brushes around the room she's insulted so many times.

Bending over just enough to reveal her panties. Saying silly maid things like “Oh, this won't do at all~! Let me polish all your shoes after I do the laundry, Princess Grace!”

Grace? That wasn't her name. She didn't even know anyone named Grace. But then why did it feel so familiar? Why did it feel so right?

Tina reaches between her legs and wraps her hand around her big, meaty cock. Mmmph, was that always there? It'd look so good inside Millie's throat. Just a whiff of her musk would drive the cheerleader wild. She'd be begging to do anything just to taste it. Silly little maid Millie, doing all the cooking, making whatever treats Tina wants just to taste a drop of Princess Grace's cum~

Mmm, there's that name again. That name that slowly replaced her old one. The name that felt so right rolling around in her head. The same bolt of pink lightning that zapped her new cock into reality streaked down her hair. She used to have shiny black hair, now it's more of a dirty blonde with pink highlights and one screaming pink streak.

Long story short, Gracetina made a real mess in the tent thinking about everything she was going to do to Millie, and she knew just who was going to clean it up. <3

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All of my posts have some tags at the end. Click on one to see all the posts with that tag.

Long stories

#HappyCamper – A camping trip, a hypnovirus, and a dream. #StreamersLittleHelper – Fame, fortune, and more from a slutty ghost. #MissModemoiselle – Finally, someone who can fight City Hall. #ConStitution – Cosplayers hypnotized at a convention. #ShowStoppers – Supereroes are out. Pop stars are in.

Characters

#Grace – Yours truly. #Modemoiselle – A supervillain Grace, in a supervillain place. #HalfAdder – Brain-hacking electric lamia extraordinaire. #QuarterViper – Reality-bending arcade proprietrix. #Lily – Lily Pinataki, deal-making demoness. At your service. #Cassandra – The seamstress with the hypnotic clothes. #Sally – Sally Silvestra, richer than God. #Gina – Gina Applegate, witch to the stars.

All Tags

#ahegao (1) #attributetheft (1) – A dom stealing a sub's intelligence, free will, etc. #avengersendgame (1) #babaisyou (1) #bondage (1) #bulge (2) #bullying (1) #capekink (1) – Non-erotic, non-pornographic stories about queer heroes and villains. #catgirl (2) #cheerleaders (5) #clothing (3) #clothingtf (1) #corruption (1) #costumes (19) #crime (2) #cult (1) #cum (1) #demons (2) #ditzification (3) – You might call it “bimbo”. #doll (4) – Getting turned into a doll, thinking you're a doll, the works. #dragons (1) #drone (1) #exhibitionism (8) #fire (1) #food (2) #frillyoutfits (3) – Who doesn't love a frilly outfit? #furry (2) #gasmask (1) #genitals (3) #hacking (6) #housewife (2) #humanpet (1) – People thinking they're animals. #humiliation (2) #hypnogas (2) #hypnosis (38) #kigurumi (1) #kissing (1) #latex (2) #lightnoncon (1) – Typically being tricked or gently guided into hypnosis. #lovestruck (1) #magicalgirls (2) #maids (4) #mantra (1) #masks (1) #masshypnosis (1) #masturbation (2) #Murdermaids (2) #music (1) #musk (3) – Mind-fogging genital smell. No other musks. #nothorny (1) – Stories that aren't horny, erotic, or pornographic. #orgasm (1) #ponygirl (1) #ponyplay (1) #possession (9) – Another intelligence, usually Grace, entering a body. #potions (2) #puppy (1) #rave (1) #realityplay (4) – Altering a sub's reality. #shapeshifting (1) #skunkgirl (3) #snake (2) #stagehypnosis (4) #suiting (4) #superheroes (2) #supervillainy (6) – This is the supervillain porn. #syringes (2) #transformation (13) #triggers (2) – The hypnotic kind. #twinning (6) – You get to be me! #videogames (3) #visor (2) – Colorful hypnoscreens, inches from your eyes. #vore (1) #whip (1) #wig (1) #witch (1) #you (7) – Story featuring “you”, the reader, as the sub.