That same night, the trap closed beautifully.
The pink smoke curled around Ellis’ bare ankles first—tendrils of rosy mist climbing up their calves like living vines. Vivienne’s perfume lingered underneath the sweetness, that heady burgundy musk Ellis could now recognize in their sleep.
"Look down, darling." Vivienne’s manicured finger tilted their chin toward the antique register vent. The gilded scrollwork exhaled shimmering vapor in hypnotic pulses. "Our secret ingredient."
Ellis’ pulse fluttered—not from fear, but from the way their nipples had hardened the moment the smoke touched skin. A warmth pooled low in their belly, syrupy and slow.
"Breathe." Vivienne’s red lips parted in demonstration, her throat working as she swallowed the haze whole. "Deeply, as you know."
The first real inhale tasted of crushed rose petals and something chemical underneath—a saccharine sting at the back of Ellis’ throat. His knees buckled. Vivienne’s laugh was a velvet noose as she caught him by the wrist, guiding his trembling palm flat against his sternum.
"Feel that? How your heart races when you breathe pink? You asked to know what pink smoke was made of. That’s the estrogens, chrysalis. Speeding up what was always..." Her thumb brushed Ellis’ fluttering pulse. "...inevitable…"
Ellis collapsed onto the four-poster bed in no time. Pink smoke poured from the antique vents like living perfume, thick and sweet, flooding his lungs with every shallow breath.
Vivienne’s voice curled through the haze as she leaned over him, red nails tracing his hardening nipples.
“Welcome home, chrysalis.”
Through the half-open door, soft moans and the click of heels drifted in. Former boys—now soft, eager girls in pink lace and heels waited patiently in the hallway, eyes glassy with the same blissful surrender.
Vivienne’s teeth grazed his earlobe. "They were all exactly where you are now. Resisting. Then..." Her nail traced the lace hem of Ellis’ teddy where it rode up his thigh. "...begging."
Ellis tried to speak, but only a needy whimper escaped exhaling another thick cloud of pink smoke from his chest and a hot, wet rush bloomed between his legs.
When he re opened his eyes he saw he wasn’t wearing nothing but a pale pink satin teddy and pink mules heels, the glittered vape still glowing in his limp fingers.
One of the figures paused in the doorway. Tall. Willow-thin. The peach negligee did little to hide the soft curves where muscle had melted into something sweeter—but the Adam’s apple still bobbed when they licked their lips.
"Mateo?" The name rose from his throat hoarse and splintered. The boy from their ethics seminar who’d vanished after spring break. His—her—pupils were blown black with pleasure, fingers plucking absently at a nipple through transparent fabric.
Vivienne smiled against Ellis’ collarbone. "She goes by Matilda now. Doesn’t she, pet?"
The moan that answered vibrated through Ellis’ bones.
"You’ll meet the others properly in the salon," Vivienne murmured, pressing a champagne flute into Ellis’ limp fingers. The liquid inside swirled with flecks of gold. "After your first dose settles. You know, We have protocols."
Pink smokes does it💕🤷🏼♀️
baratheonpilled
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
