Chapter 2

"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.