#cloisteredcreatures

[gigglinggoblin]

Lotus Drones: An Enigmatic Addiction

[pov: any; 2nd person; femdom; nonconsent (heavy); implied personality death; lotus drone; drugged; brainwashing; degradation; exhibitionism; sweetening; food; bimbowned; bimbofication]

Oh, um. G-gosh. Hi. Hello. Hi, there.

No, I’m fine. My name’s Lily, which is funny, if you think about it. Heehee! You wanna have a seat?

Ooh, yes, you do. That’s nice, isn’t it? Nice sitting next to me. I saved this space for you. Nice feeling my soft, pert butt. Hee! Don’t worry, nobody’ll judge. Everyone wants to sit down next to me, but you’re the first to admit it.

It’s so… niiiice… to have company. Don’t you think?

Want a little snack? I brought them with me. This place is so busy, and the food can be so heavy. So heavy, and rich, and exhausting. Sometimes it’s just nice to sit out of the way and nibble a little. Go on.

You want a nibble? Hmm?

Oooh, yes, you do~!

Aww, that’s nice, isn’t it? That’s soooo nice. It tastes so good, doesn’t it? So refreshing. And so pretty!

Here, have another. Ooh, that’s nice and sweet on your tongue, isn’t it?

Oopsie! I dropped one in your lap. Teehee, sorry, this booth is soooo cramped with the two of us, isn’t it?

Here, let me get that for you. No, no, you don’t mind my hand there. You like it.

Mm. Yes, I think you like it, like, lots~

See? I can smell it on you. You think it’s really nice having my hand on your thigh. Ooh, yes, you do.

I have such soft, slender fingers, don't I? I bet they'd fit down your pants. Right down your hands, so soft, so easy.

You want me to try? Ooh, don’t worry, of course you do! Heeehee! Don’t worry about it. Here, eat some more yummy treats.

Isn’t that nice?

Ooh, yes, it is! You love this! So cute.

Gosh, I can tell you love eating these little snacks. They’re just like little flowers, huh? They taste so good! But it’s hard to describe what they taste like, huh?

You have to really savor it to understand.

Let it sink in… let it sink, sink, deeper and deeper as my hand slips around and strokes you, deeper and deeper and deeper… Here, have another. Yum! Heehee!

My hand probably feels so good right now, stroking you, playing with you. Mm. Yes, it does. Of course it does.

Go on. Put your arm around me. Pull me close. Feel my hot little body. Nobody will care. Eat another flower. There’s a good drone. There’s my good drone. Ooh, yes, you are.

Nobody minds seeing a good, happy drone eating lotuses. In fact, they probably think you look soooo cute right now. Teehee! Aww. What an adorable little drone you’ll be.

The pleasure’s just making it so hard to think. Your mind is getting so soft and wet and horny. You love being my drone. Love feeling me against you. Love eating them. Ooh, yes, you do! Good drone! Go ahead. In fact, you love them so much, here’s the whole bowl. Heehee!

Try a sip of this, now. Drink deep. Deeper. Deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper... Here, I’ll help you. Shh.

Don’t fight. You don’t wanna fight. No, you don’t! Heehee!

That’s better. Isn’t it? Ooh, yes, it is.

So pliant.

So obedient.

So blank and docile. Keep drinking while I… make you a little easier to access.

Nobody will notice me slipping under the table, between your legs. There’s my good drone. There’s my good bimbo drone. No, they won’t mind us. Nobody ever bothers us. They just let us have fun with the odd visitor who—mmm—doesn’t know any better.

They’ll just see two happy bimbo drones having fun with each other. And you like being a bimbo drone...

... don’t you?

Ooh. Yes, you do~

Mmmm… ooh, mm, yes you doooo...

*slurping noises*

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lotus drones are a little-known but particularly dangerous species of the Cloistered Lands. Corrupted by the effects of a strange plant, they have only two goals: Eat and drink from the flowers they serve, and multiply.

Some speculate that the drones are filled with small ingested “seeds” within the plants. Others speculate that the plants are actually sentient, and impose their own hivemind over their drones. Others believe that lotus drones are a rare type of Low Fey, or a mutation off of daemons.

There has never been a lotus drone captured successfully for study. The last serious attempt resulted in the claiming of what is now known as the Lotus Tower, and the loss of nearly a hundred skilled mages in the process. Meanwhile, a Thriae hive that attempted to capture and brainwash a single lotus drone ended up split in two as half the Thriae and their mortal playthings were converted to serve the lotus, proving that even High Fey are not immune to the lotus drones’ charms.

Mostly, people just try to leave lotus drones alone. The drones prefer to focus on those who show special attraction to them, and so the best way to avoid being converted into a lotus drone is simply to avoid being turned on by them.

Of course, anyone who would touch themselves simply from reading about the creatures is probably in a lot of trouble if they ever meet one in the flesh.

[Thanks for reading! This is an old repost someone requested ages and ages ago. If you enjoyed this story and want to read more like it, there’s absolute tons of content on my Patreon. For just a few dollars a month, you gain access to alternate Bad Ends, bonus stories, polls on future content, early updates, erotic text-based roleplay/D&D games, and much, much more! If you can afford to, consider pledging, so I can keep posting Tumblr fics like this one on the regular! Thank you! <3]

[gigglinggoblin]

Sprite Sirens: Catchy Tunes

A beautiful brunette with her hair in a simple loose bun blows a double-flute, plump lips playing it with perfect grace and delicacy

[pov: any; 2nd-pov; femdom; sprite siren; nonconsent (light); intelligence reduction; music hypnosis; bimbowned; embarrassment/flustering; pretty girls know best]

Oh, hiii there~!

Aww, teehee, don't be scared!

I can see it in your eyes, you know. That you’re scared. Not used to pretty girls whispering in your mind while you watch them play?

Or just, like, so used to it that you start getting flustered the second you hear my lovely sweet voice echo in that adorable little brain of yours?

... Or maybe you just fantasize about it happening a ton, because being whispered to by pretty girls sounds, like, soooo hot, doesn't it?

Aww, lookit you~! All blushy and stammering. Gosh, is that just from my little teasing? Ooh, I bet I’m right, aren’t I? You must be confused, cutie—but don't worry, I'll explain everything to you, okay? See, I'm a sprite siren. That's a special kinda fey that's, like, suuuuper good at music. We just play the prettiest songs you’ve ever heard, and the songs can be, like... kinda catchy! Uh-huuuh! Totally!

Now, you, cutiepie, seem to have gotten a bit caught up listening to my lovely flute, you silly little thing! Ooh, and like, the more you listen, the more you can hear my voice slipping into that soft, vulnerable mind of yours, feel me making myself at home in your adorable pretty little head.

Aww, teehee, don't be embarassed!

Or do~

You can, if you want. I mean, it is, like, totes suuuper adorable when you get flustered and embarrassed about stuff.

‘Cuz like, it is kiiiinda embarrassing...

... how you're just watching me play...

... listening to the pretty song as it trickles into your ears and flows into your mind...

... and already, like, *soooo* enthralled by me. Sooo helpless to look away from me, from my pretty plump lips so perfectly, delicately playing the flute, from my big, pretty eyes watching you soooo smugly. Sooo enthralled, totally helpless to resist just one pretty girl~

And gosh, like, it’s totally, like... sooo hot how easy you gave in to a pretty girl's charms.

But it's only natural, you see! It’s only natural to give in like that, for cute little weak-willed adorabelles like you. So you mustn't be embarrassed (except at how you're still listening, still letting my music wash all over you, such an easy little toy you are for a pretty girl with a sweet song and a cute smile and some beautiful glimmering eyes)! No, no, not embarrassed at all! I mean...

... well...

Except in that hot way where every time my eyelashes flutter, I can see you squirm

and blush

and try to speak, only for my pretty song to sweep you away like the tides, sweep all the words from your mind...

... like a slow but irresistible current carrying you back to me, right back to obeying pretty girls, because it's, like, very important to obey pretty girls, isn't it, cutiepie?

Go on, nod for me~

Teehee! Aww, I saw that cute li'l headbob! Gosh, like, you're suuuuuch a cute little weak-willed toy! I mean, it seems like a pretty girl has to do is give you a teensy little suggestion while batting her eyelashes, and you stop thinking and

just~

obey~

the pretty girl~

And you're juuuust gonna keep right on listening to my music, nodding along to my whispers, even though I’m, like, totes just a silly little bimbo and you should for suuuure know better...

You’re just gonna keep nodding along...

You’re just gonna keep blushing a hotter and hotter shade of pretty pink...

... just gonna keep listening...

... just gonna keep. Wanting. To.

obey

the pretty girl~

Aww, I don't even need the flute anymore, do I? I bet I could, like, totes just melt that cute little drippy-drippy mind of yours with one bounce of my pretty-bouncy-boobies!

Or even just... one little itsy-bitsy kiss~ 💋

Teehee! Omigosh, you just blushed soooo cutely at that! I'm totally right, aren't I? Ooh, ooooh, yes, oh gosh, just me blowing you a kiss, just, like, the thought of getting a kiss from a pretty girllll...

... makes you wanna do *everything I say*, doesn't it?

Makes

you

just

wanna

obey pretty girls~

Aww, sooo CUUUUTE~!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sprite sirens are much more common than the bat-birdlike audiophile true sirens or the addictively alluring golden-haired pipers, and in most regards much less dangerous. Using a variety of musical styles—from flutes and panpipes to fiddles to drums to cooing bubblegum pop harmonies—sprite sirens’ music hypnotizes the listener into a hopeless trance, where they are compelled simply to watch the sirens play.

The longer an unwary traveler listens, the greater the chance the siren will begin to slip into their mind, weaving webs of silken pleasure around a victim’s brain until all the victim wants to do is obey. Some sprite sirens use suggestive dances to deepen the hypnosis and temptation, some use suggestions to stroke or edge, and others simply play, as docile as lambs, and wait for their prey to draw near. They tend to favor bodies of water as their luring grounds, leading some to suggest that “sprite sirens” are actually just a form of nixie that use music instead of vocal commands.

The thing is, they aren’t actually that bright. Sprite sirens are vain, ditzy bimbos who really just want an audience of adoring toys to play with, but they don’t really make complex plans or employ nuanced methods of seduction.

It shouldn’t be that hard to resist them. They’re just dumb, silly, pretty bimbos, after all. It’s easy enough to avoid them, or to quickly look away and cover one’s ears when a siren’s song rises over the hills.

And yet sprite sirens seem to attract a few new obedient playthings every year.

It should be easy to resist them, them being so ditzy and silly.

Perhaps those they ensnare are even ditzier and sillier.

Or perhaps it really is easier to just obey pretty girls.

[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story and want to read more like it, there’s absolute tons of content on my Patreon, including a couple stories in the Flashfic Compilation pertaining to the pipers mentioned above. For just a few dollars a month, you gain access to alternate Bad Ends, bonus stories, polls on future content, early updates, erotic text-based roleplay/D&D games, and much, much more! If you can afford to, consider pledging, so I can keep posting Tumblr fics like this one on the regular! Thank you! <3]

[gigglinggoblin]

Getting a Little Familiar

Image used with permission from the amazingly talented Deepdiscourse, whose breathtaking hypnotic audio files and gorgeous photos (and video clips) are equally worth your attention and money! Go check out their work!

[pov: any, nsfw, 2nd person, reverse corruption, (initially) evil POV, hypnosis, magical mind control, mutual nonconsent (heavy), dolly, gender-neutral forcefem, pet play, breast fixation, kitten play, dressup, witch, femdom, praise, syrup mention, intelligence reduction]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oh, you poor, hopeless little thing. This didn’t go quite how you’d planned, did it?

Don’t feel bad. It was a really very lovely plan to try and hypnotize me! And really, even if it’s not working out quite as you’d hoped, I think you’ll be much happier this way, don’t you?

Aww. Look at you. Trying to put words together when all you really wanna do is stare at my lovely breasts like a helpless, needy little toy.

So cute.

So helpless.

And so adorable, thinking you’ll be able to put any words together at all that aren’t “yes, Mistress” and “yes, please, Mistress” when I’m through with you. Maybe some soft mewing. Mm, yes, that sounds just lovely, doesn’t it, sweetie?

I can already see all those silly thoughts glimmering in your eyes, rising to the forefront, rising to the top of the waves like soft, pretty pink jellyfish. All those plans for posing as a sweet, obedient little apprentice, pretending to be all silly and dumb and pliant, all eager to please while you worked your little schemes.

Now, now! No need to speak, kitten. Those pretty lips of yours look so much cuter half-parted like that, breathing in nice and slow. Nice and slow. Matching my breathing. In and out. In… and out.

Watch... my breasts… rise… and fall~

Good pet!

And doesn’t that feel nice? That’s right. Just keep watching my tits and listening to my words. They look so soft, don’t they? So smooth. So easy to get lost in.

And it feels so good to listen to Mistress and let her words fill your pretty empty head, trickling in heavier and heavier by the second, like sweet syrup, just... drowning all those thoughts in pleasure.

Isn’t that right? Hush-hush, kitten. Of course it is.

Good pets love to listen to Mistress. Mistress has such a pretty voice, doesn’t she? So nice to listen to and sink down-down-down-down-down, so deep, all those thoughts tugging you deeper, and deeper, and deeper, so heavy and cumbersome, getting heavier with every deeeep breath you take in, and out, and in, and out, and...

*giggle* That’s right! You’re doing so well! Goodness, you’re so adorably suggestible. So pliable. I’ve barely had to work any magic; I just suggested you’d like to look at my tits and let my sweet voice do the rest... and down-down-down you went. I just told you to listen like a good pet, and you nodded along with every single word…

… and happily allowed aaaaall that sweet, slow, heavy syrup to flow into your silly open mind.

Isn’t that right, pet?

Aw, hush, kitten. Of course it is~

[Thanks for reading! There’s more after the break, but if you enjoyed this story and want to read more like it, there’s tons more content on my Patreon. For just a few dollars a month, you gain access to alternate Bad Ends, bonus stories, polls on future content, early updates, erotic text-based roleplay/D&D games, and much, much more! If you can afford to, consider pledging, so I can keep posting Tumblr fics like this one on the regular! Thank you! <3]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Salamander folk” are a curiosity largely unique to witchcraft, homunculi created when a willing (or “willing enough”) mortal entices a witch into transmuting their being into something else. In this way, a witch can make a human something like a fey, and can change just about anything else she likes about the human in the process. Many witches favor catfolk and other beast-like features, but the witches have many options. Many, many options.

They just... they just really like catgirls, okay?

And in fairness, so do a lot of the girls who go to witches seeking transmutation. The transformation does not change gender, obviously, but it can be used to change certain physical aspects to be more within a person’s preferences, or, say, to make a cisgender boy look more feminine for the witch’s amusement.

(When a demon does this to a mortal, they are usually called cambions—true cambions, not the mock cambions arising from demon-mortal partnerings. It’s a much more... consuming process.)

Why are they called “salamander folk”? Not all labels make perfect sense. In this case, a “salamander” is old-fashioned magic slang for a partially-finished spell, implying a malleable sort of magic that has yet to be fully shaped. It’s almost never used in that sense anymore, though. It might be distantly related to the famous total immunity newts have to magic.

Many mortals deliberately seek witches out for this reason, desiring some manner of change to their form beyond mortal means, or else to become apprentices. Or, often, both. Many witches charge apprenticeship for a certain number of years in exchange, which isn’t always as mercenary as it seems. Apprenticeship allows a witch to guide and protect the salamander person through their transition, as well as to make sure that the transformation really is what they want. It can also make the transformation itself easier to effect—it’s not easy to change someone’s true form, and it often takes time and a mutual familiarity.

Notably, the reverse dynamic is quite common as well: Many would-be apprentices are expected to allow the witch to transmute them into different forms as a condition of being taught. This is ostensibly because the process of being transmuted involves tying spirits to the subject’s soul, and tends to make their overall form and connection with magic very malleable and easy to work with. These kinds of apprentices are called familiars.

Of course, some witches just want cute catboys and ravenpeople and dollygirls to toy with as they please.

Katrina of the Thousand Names is a particularly skilled witch, known less so for her raw power so much as her cunning, vast arrays of knowledge, and general good-naturedness. She knows hundreds and hundreds of spirits well, and is one of the most famously easy-going when it comes to transformations. If you know what you want, she’ll see it done for as small a price as cooking her meals for a few nights while she works the spell.

Of course, many seek to be her apprentices even if they aren’t looking for transformation, and she’s quite reasonable about this—as long as the apprentice acts in good faith. Many seek to steal her repository of powers to use for wickedness, even trying to hypnotize the witch into yielding them. These ill-behaved apprentices tend to find themselves serving a very different role indeed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My, my. Such an adorable, hopelessly malleable plaything you turned out to be!

I think this is all for the best, don’t you? You’re much better at being my pliant little doll than you ever were at being my apprentice. You’ll be so much cuter as my obedient, mewling, empty-headed kitten. And so much happier, too!

Oh, come now, kitten, none of that fussing. Kittens don’t need words, and neither do helplessly adoring little dolls. Doesn’t it feel so good to be nice and sweet and good for me?

No more schemes. No more plotting to steal all my secrets. Those all required thinking, and thinking is hard, and listening like a good pet is easy.

So... so... sooooo easy~

And listening feels so, so lovely, doesn’t it? Just letting my words take over. Breathing in and out so steadily, so hopelessly enthralled by the soft, gentle motion of my soft breasts rising… and falling...

All those plans required so many confusing thoughts, all swirling around in that silly head of yours. But all those wicked thoughts are being drowned in the sweet, wonderful syrup of my words now, aren’t they?

Can’t you just feel all that syrup flooding your mind, submerging every thought in a heavy, heavy sugary brainless docile trance?

All those thoughts about betraying me? All submerged, and so, so hard to pull up to the surface now, so deep, deep down as my breasts bounce slowly, softly, so, so softly...

All those thoughts about using my powers to make trouble? All drowned in warm, gentle waves of delicious syrup, caught like butterflies in amber, deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper as my voice goes on, and on, filling you with sweet, sugary obedient pleasure the longer it goes on, getting so, so hard to even remember anything else...

And oh... doesn’t it feel so much better to be sweet, kitten?

So much easier to be sweet.

So much easier to be a nice, happy, obedient bubbly helpful kitten for me.

And it feels so good to please me, doesn’t it, sweet thing?

So good to nod passively. So good to take my hand, so deeply hypnotized now, so deep-deep-deep under the honeyed waves and not even trying to resist anymore. So happy and dumb and heavy-headed now, just staring at my tits like a mewling, helpless kitten.

Aww, look at you squirming. So cute! Such a sweet little plaything I’ve found. Would you like to be a good pet for me?

Good pet!

Such a good, happy, obedient, needy, sweet little pliant kitten.

Aww, and don’t worry, sweetie.

I know how excited you were to use all my magic, to dress yourself up in my glamors, to bewitch and ensnare whoever gazed upon you. Of course I’ll be happy to let you! Oh, hush-hush, I insist!

Let me lead you into the dressing room, now, pet. There’s a good plaything.

I’m going to dress you up to look so pretty. I’m going to make you so gorgeous and adorable and eager to please. You’ll just be my cute, obedient, sweet dolled-up kitten. Just a happy little maid for me, isn’t that right? Hopelessly eager to help anyone who comes by. Helping others is going to feel so good for my good, obedient kitty.

I promise you’ll be every bit as spellbinding as you planned, sweetie. A pretty spellbound doll for everyone’s amusement. Everyone’s going to love you, and that’s going to feel soooo good.

Let’s go get you all dressed up and pretty, sweetie. There’s a good pet.

And maybe, once you’ve learned your lesson in a year or so…

… I’ll let you decide whether or not you want to stay that way forever~

[My Patreon] [My Commission Info]

[DeepDiscourse’s Twitter] [DeepDiscourse’s Patreon]

[gigglinggoblin]

Said the Spider to the Butterfly

[pov: anygirl, femdom, fantasy nonconsent (heavy), dressup, dollies, stockings, bimbofication, intelligence reduction, flexibly anthro spidergirl, no sex]

"And isn't it so pretty," the woman in the green dress cooed, reaching forward to caress Vanessa’s cheek with long, delicate fingers, "and so, sooo soft?"

"Pretty," whimpered Vanessa, her beautifully-patterned sunset-orange and ebon-black wings fluttering behind her, still subconsciously trying to lift her off but with no real power left in them. "S-So... pretty..."

The beautiful silver glove seemed to shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow as the fluttermaid marveled at it, the fabric hugging her skin with the utmost delicacy. The glove fit as if it was made for her, as if it was as much a part of her as her hair, her skin, her soul. "So soft," purred the lady in green, as down below, Vanessa felt her practical shoes being daintily pulled away, her black-and-white striped socks that suddenly seemed so very plain following after. Vanessa squirmed helplessly as she felt an impossibly fine, impossibly tight stocking sliding ever-so-slowly up her left leg. "So soft, too, isn't it, precious? Good girls answer when asked a question."

Vanessa’s wingbeats slowed slightly. Her mind sank deeper and deeper by the second into the sweet touches and whispers of the lady in green, the exquisite sensations sliding over her like a second skin... like a part of herself that had been so very long-awaited...

"Soft," the fluttermaid moaned, her eyes full of stars as she marveled at her gloved hands, as she caressed her own face, her naked breasts... "It feels so... soft, Miss..."

The second stocking began to slide up her calve, so silky and slippery and smooth... and soft...

"That's right. Good girl!" Vanessa gave a little shiver of delight at the praise. The lady in the green dress had a voice as silky and sheer as the fabric itself, a voice that seemed to wrap so gently around Vanessa, cling to her, hold her just as tantalizingly tight as the stocking sliding up her bare, sensitive thigh. "And wearing these pretty silks makes you so pretty, doesn't it?”

“Yes, Miss,” Vanessa said meekly, squirming in hopeless delight at the touches.

Dainty fingertips traced along Vanessa's inner thighs as the stocking climbed higher, higher, finally stopping just under the adorable short skirt the lady in green had given her. "And you like being such a pretty girl for me, don’t you, my cute little slut?"

She held up a mirror, and Vanessa caught a glimpse of herself. Her mouth opened in wonder, and her wingbeats slowed and at last went still.

Her breasts bounced free, the blouse having been torn away by her struggles earlier. Her new shimmering thigh-high stockings and long opera gloves flooded the reflection with colors. As she caressed her own cheek, marveling at her image, she saw how prettily her eyes had glazed over, what a cute shade of red her cheeks had turned to... how cute her painted coral-red lips looked, parted in that blissful, wondering 'o' shape...

"Oh, yes, Miss," Vanessa mewled, wiggling in delight, rubbing her legs together and positively melting at how good it all felt. "I l-love being... pretty..." She gazed in wonder at the image of herself. She didn’t even recognize herself.

“And wearing pretty things makes you even more pretty, doesn’t it, sweetie?” the lady in green asked smugly.

“Ooh, yes! Wearing pretty things, like... makes me sooooo pretty..." She giggled and wiggled, adoring how nice that felt, her mind melting a little at how cute and adorable and slutty it made her look in the mirror.

The lady in green giggled back at her. "That's right, my dear!" she cooed. "And if wearing pretty things makes you pretty... my goodness, what does wearing soft things do?"

The mirror lowered, and a diaphanous, incredibly revealing blouse rose into view. It was practically lingerie.

"Umm..." Vanessa practically drooled at the sight. Her silly, pleasure-drunk brain struggled to melt into some shape that made sense, but she was such a puddle of lust and vanity right now... oh, gosh, she'd look so hot in that.. wearing nothing but that and her stockings and gloves and her miniskirt... "Ummmm..."

Vanessa blinked big, unsure eyes. At that moment, the only sounds in the forest, aside from her moans and stammering, were the soft, blissful moans of the many dangling dollies on display up in the treetops above, each wriggling in their own cute outfits, waiting to be taken down and played with some more.

"Having trouble, precious?" teased the lady in green. Silvery lights sparkled around her head in endless, elegant spirals. "Just stop thinking and repeat after me: Pretty things make me pretty..."

"Pretty things make me pretty," Vanessa mumbled, and giggled happily, twirling in her cute outfit and nearly falling over - luckily, Miss caught her. Miss held her tight.

"... so soft things...?" the lady in green supplied sweetly.

Vanessa’s eyelashes fluttered. "... soft things.... make me soft..." she sighed, reaching dazedly for the blouse.

And the Arachne Girl smiled. "Good girl! Now, arms up~"

Vanessa beamed and obeyed.

And the second she felt the blouse slide down her shoulders, the gossamer silk wrapping with exquisite tightness around her pert, sensitive nipples, Vanessa knew she was caught. She was trapped. She’d trapped herself.

And as she realized she would never, ever want to leave, she cooed softly and swooned into her new lover’s arms, and allowed her mind to melt completely into soft, malleable mush.

Not all Arachne Girls turn their silk into webbing. Some ensnare their little flies by different means.

[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story and want to read more like it, there’s absolute tons of content on my Patreon. For just a few dollars a month, you gain access to alternate Bad Ends,  bonus stories, polls on future content, early updates, erotic text-based roleplay/D&D games, and much, much more! If you can afford to, consider pledging, so I can keep posting Tumblr fics like this one on the regular! Thank you! <3]

[My Patreon] [My Commission Info]

[gigglinggoblin]

Whisper Drinkers: No More Words

Image used with permission from the lovely and fantastically talented Cody Darkstalker! Go check out her gorgeous collection on her Twitter, Instagram and Onlyfans!

[pov: anygirl, femdom, undead but sweet, nsfw, hypnosis, fantasy, intelligence reduction, pet play, headpats, leghumping, consensual, but you know maybe don’t actually drain your partner’s thoughts without asking them irl idk you should tell them if you’re a vampire thing that drinks words is all I’m saying]

"U-Um, so, so maybe I'm talking too much," Ami whimpered, as the mysterious woman next to her on the bed reached over, took her by the hand, and began to delicately caress it, running long and slender fingertips over Ami's palm and smiling slyly up at her, "it's just th-that I'm, um, well, see, I've never—never had anyone in my room before, is all."

The raven-haired beauty smiled up at her, hearts dotting her cheeks like freckles, luscious lips parted in a tempestuous pout. Her pretty jewelry caught the room’s rosy light so dazzlingly. So glamorous and glimmery...

Ami squirmed and barely held in a squeak as the woman beamed and scooted a little closer. She reached up and affectionately stroked Ami's cheek.

Then her hand slipped down to tug at the neckline of Ami's modest blouse.

"Oh!" Ami bit her lip, excitement trickling through her almost as fast as the red rushing to her cheeks. "I-I mean, well, see, of course I—" Her voice nearly broke as she felt her hand being guided to the woman's breast, guided to rest there, to gently feel the softness of the woman's skin, such a pretty hue of rosy-pink in the light.

"—it's not my room, of course," she corrected, cheeks burning, wiggling as the woman started undoing buttons on the blouse, undressing her even as she babbled. Why can’t I stop talking? Please, gods, let me stop talking.

"I mean, it is, because—well, I paid f-for the room, it's an inn, obviously. It's just tha—<i>aaaaat</I>—" She practically mewled as she felt her blouse being tugged away, as the woman leaned in even closer, and she breathed in that sweet minty perfume. Oh, fuck, this lady smelled so... so nice...

"Just that," she panted, but her words were scattering to the winds as those soft, luscious, pouty lips settled on her neck and began to kiss slowly, sweetly, indulgently across her skin, "just that, um, I mean, I-I've... I've, um... never..."

She felt a hand on her side, and without thinking, Ami allowed herself to be steered so she could be pushed back onto the bed.

Her head settled onto the pillow, and she was squirming and blushing and whimpering as she now felt the mysterious woman's cool, plush weight on her, pinning her to the bed, as those lips smacked indulgently along her neck and jawline. "... n-never," she whimpered, marveling at the softness of the breast as she squeezed and fondled it, "never... with..."

She trailed off into a moan as those wonderful kisses reached the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulders, as her sensible bra was undone to join the blouse beneath her.

Her head was starting to feel so... so bubbly. So fizzy. She actually giggled as she felt the woman's fingers running through her hair, stroking her with the utmost gentleness. "Oh, um, g-gosh," she gasped, wriggling, "you're... p-petting me l-like I'm s-some kind of... um... um... umm..."

Kitten. Puppy. Bunny. Pet. Silly girl who needs to be comforted and soothed. She struggled to form the words, desperate to fill the silence, but no sooner had the thoughts bubbled up into her mind than they were gone. She blinked dazedly, bubbles popping throughout her fizzy pink mind.

The kisses paused. The woman pulled up and blinked innocently down at her, parting those soft, kissable lips in a seductive pout.

Ami stared up into those eyes. Stared at those lips. A little whimper escaped her, but she found she didn’t... didn’t quite know what to say right now.

But even as she was given a brief reprieve from the kisses, Ami squirmed, feeling some... other attentions getting a lot more pronounced. That other hand was not being idle. Long, slender, delicate fingers ran over her breasts, groping, fondling, stroking in dainty spirals around her nipples.

Ami shivered. Even more tantalizingly, the strange woman's knee was placed right between Ami's thighs so... so perfectly, and the thought occurred to her that it would be so easy to just kind of... grind...

Her words melted away, and she giggled, quite forgetting exactly what she'd been trying to say. "Th-This feels... nice..." she mumbled, as more bubbles of pink pleasure popped in her mind, as she found herself grinding more and more overtly, unable to remember why she would ever hold back.

She let out a moan, and oh, gods, moaning felt so good... so much better than talking...

The woman smiled and cooed her pleasure with Ami, one of the first sounds, Ami realized dumbly, she'd heard the woman make so far. And then she forgot why this was strange, because the lady’s voice was so pretty, and knowing her lover was pleased just made Ami want to grind and hump harder as those kisses returned to her neck, her breasts, so soft and sweet and indulgent, and Ami mewled and whined happily.

She could no longer remember much of anything, actually, aside from feeling good. She humped the strange woman's leg like a wifwolf in heat, moaning and panting, because why would she need to babble and prattle when she could be making cute horny noises like those that seemed to please the woman so well?

She beamed and cooed and wriggled happily as the woman rose up slightly, those glowing crimson eyes shining like twin sunsets, so pretty, so happy with Ami.

Ami was being a good girl, Ami knew, even if her lover couldn't say it. And that realization was the sweetest feeling of all.

And Ami giggled and squealed and bounced and ground against the leg as she came, came under her skirt like a good girl, and made even more adorable noises in the process.

She was panting, red-faced, gasping for breath. She was drowning in the pink mist. Drifting in the fizzy pink bubbles.

But... she was still horny, she realized dimly, even in afterglow.

So, so horny.

She stared up into those bright lights and smiled dreamily as her beautiful pale lover leaned down for the softest of kisses, the stranger’s lips pillowy and fulsome, her own sighs of bliss impossibly faint but sending Ami into a daze of pleasure.

Ami wrapped her arms around her lover and moaned into the kiss, and happily allowed her inner thoughts to dissolve, for a time, into pure, sweet nothings.

The pale woman no longer felt cold. But maybe Ami was just blushing hot enough for the both of them now.

~ ~ ~ ~

Whisper drinkers are a rare and unusual form of vampire that drink not blood, or cum, or milk, but words themselves. Said to arise from those who died lost to their own worries and anxieties, the whisper drinker is often considered a benevolent spirit, as far as any of the Dead can be described as such. They are often drawn to the worried, tired or anxious, and with their kisses, they slowly ease the thoughts away, granting their lovers a brief reprieve, comfort and affection.

Spirit Rangers consider whisper drinkers to be very low-priority targets, though it is something of a controversial subject whether whisper drinkers truly understand what they are doing. Some argue that the whisper drinker acts as a nearly elemental being, purely occupied with her instincts, and cares nothing for those she lies with. Others, particularly those who form relationships with the mute undead, claim that there is far greater complexity to the whisper drinker than anyone truly understands.

[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story and want to read more like it, there’s absolute tons of content on my Patreon. For just a few dollars a month, you gain access to alternate Bad Ends, bonus stories, polls on future content, early updates, erotic text-based roleplay/D&D games, and much, much more! If you can afford to, consider pledging, so I can keep posting Tumblr fics like this one on the regular! Thank you! <3]

[My Patreon] [My Commission Info]

[Cody’s Twitter] [Cody’s OnlyFans]

[gigglinggoblin]

Cave Nixies

[pov: transgirl, femdom, fey, teasing, embarrassing praise, reluctance, flustering, mothgirl, sub denying being cute, hypnosis (in later chapters), nonconsent (very light)]

~ ~ ~ ~

Ásdís shifted uneasily, the little paddleboat rocking beneath her as she drew near the end of the voyage - at least for her and her boat. I really, really should have got off when that dryad told me to.

"Oh, hiiiii~!" trilled one of the bubbly strawberry blondes, beaming down at the mothgirl as the boat bounced along the increasingly narrow current toward their cavorting point. She leaned over as Ásdís passed, giving Ásdís an indulgent view of her soft, comfy-looking cleavage beneath her diaphanous white gown, and cocked her head inquisitively. "Gosh, like, I don't think that boat's gonna make it!"

Ásdís smiled sheepishly, her fluffy antennae twitching with unease as the boat bobbed and scraped along the shallow bed. Her wings fluttered, though she doubted she'd be able to get away before these four fey caught her. She looked between them, noticing as two others came to admire her embarrassing little predicament. "Um, no, probably not," she admitted.

"Ooh, definitely not!" cooed another from behind her, leaning down from her rock to admire her state - and rather transparently attempt to peek down her modest adventuring dress.

"Want some help?" offered the fourth sweetly, lounging back on a rock, her legs ever-so-conspicuously spread before Ásdís. Her lashes fluttered coquettishly, thick, heavy curtains over those glimmering algae-green eyes..

Ásdís felt her cheeks burning. "N-No, thank you," she squeaked, shifting nervously as the boat bumped against the rock the first two were on. "I'll just, um. Get out here, and I'll... I'll..."

"What, pick up the boat and move it to the other side?"

"Teehee! That's such a silly idea!"

"Hee! What a silly little moth."

"Aww, but she's soooo CUUTE down there in her tiny little rowboat~!"

Ásdís squirmed beneath the merciless teasing, unconsciously shrinking behind her hands to hide her reddening cheeks. She tried to think of something to say, but the nixies’ singsong voices bounced off the babbling water, tinkled like windchimes in the rain, and all she could manage was a mumbled:

"'m... not cute..."

It was mainly to herself, but came out louder than she'd meant it.

At this, the cave nixies exchanged startled looks.

"Oh, really?" the one spreading her legs asked, cocking her head endearing to the side.

"Is that soooo?" purred the one above her, a little smile dancing across fulsome moss-green lips.

Ásdís looked between the four cave nixies, bit her lip, and desperately willed the boat to right itself.

But at the moment, she appeared to have hit a snag.

To Be Continued...

~ ~ ~ ~

“Adventuring gowns”, “adventuring dresses” and “adventuring skirts” are designed with practicality, professionalism and fashion in mind, often incorporating items of armor into their construction. Though they vary widely - there is no central authority for enforcing fashion norms in Lacra, aside from a few more isolated regions - they most commonly are known for being highly adaptable, with many pieces and parts that can be removed or replaced when needed. Adventuring dresses are commonly worn by all genders.

“Field adventuring gowns” tend to be made with drab, dark colors that hide mud and stains, incorporate at least two layers and many reinforced pockets, hemmed at just above the knees (often re-hemmed from a traditional dress when a commoner becomes an adventurer), and contain many laces that may be tied, tightened, loosened or undone completely to drastically modify the ensemble. This enables an adventurer to, say, go riding, go for a swim, or sleep comfortably without having to change completely. They may remove or add layers as the heat or cold expects, tinker with the design in their spare time as they please (many adventurers are restless or fidgety by nature, making this a pleasant hobby), and wash the ensemble in parts without having to have a whole separate change of clothes.

“Indoors adventuring gowns”, as they’re called, are not generally worn by serious adventurers, and are made with brighter colors and more decorative pieces, more mimicking the ruggedness of the adventurer than actually acting the part. Adventurers go in and out of style, and so does their fashion.

[gigglinggoblin]

The Catgirl and the Hornet’s Nest

[pov-any, 2nd person, catgirl, fantasy nonconsent (light), sensitizing, petting, femdom; also the lore is kind of sad and touches on abandonment and doomed crushes]

You raise a hand to greet the bundled catgirl as you pass by her on the trail, but are caught off-guard as she takes that hand in hers and smiles slightly up at you. You stare into those gleaming green eyes.

Her other hand darts up and tickles beneath your chin affectionately, and sweet, intoxicating sensitivity begins to flow through your whole body. Before you know what’s happening, you’re sinking to your knees.

She giggles. The hand creeps upwards, and she begins petting your hair.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Catgirls are something of an enigma when it comes to fey—or, more uncharitably put, a frustration. Sometimes called “kitten sprites” (particularly when one isn’t female, though this is rare), they’re known for many of their number being exceptionally humanlike. Many mistake them for beastfey, although the true cat beastfey, the shapeshifting bakeneko, resent this implication. Many High Fey, meanwhile, fey see catgirls as barely being fey at all, and treat them something akin to elves: fey that have lost their way.

In truth, catgirls are fey, but very minor fey in general, house fey-adjacent beings who are as closely tied to mortals as they are to the wilderness around them. They tend to orient themselves around two main “choices of being”.

Some catgirls have little dealings with mortals except when taking playthings. The catgirl druids of the Western Evergreen are infamously capricious temptresses, prone to captivating mortals for endless teasing and toying. These catgirls behave much like sprites, with little interest in the mortal mindset and no sense of mortal responsibility. When a Toxin Ranger captures a catgirl of this mindset, she is treated like a misbehaving fairy, not a mortal who fully grasps right from wrong the same way a human or dopterine might.

Some catgirls, on the other hand, become very close to mortals indeed. This often happens as a result of an infatuation—catgirls are intensely social creatures, and are prone to forming deep, spellbinding crushes on mortals they happen upon. Catgirls might join adventuring parties, mortal druid enclaves, and even seek to blend in with mortal society, especially in the pursuit of the target of their affections.

The latter type of catgirl, however, often faces terrible challenges.

First, catgirls might want to blend in with humans, but un-learning their fey habits of treating mortals as toys can undo these efforts easily. A catgirl who lives as a fey can’t be expected to understand it’s wrong to cause mayhem, but one who wants to start acting like a mortal suddenly must reckon with the terrible responsibilities for what she may have done. A catboy who played with a mortal traveler for months might, years later when he is attempting to affect the mortal mindset, suddenly have to grapple with guilt for what he’s done—or else slide into denial about it.

This is not to say that catgirls who remain “fully fey” are evil. Quite the contrary. But to blame a fey for misbehaving is to blame a dream for being good or bad. Immortals operate under different rules than mortals, like caricatures in a play, and aren’t expected to have the same level of depth and nuance. But if a bad dream were to suddenly begin trying to be a person, or a slapstick character suddenly started being written seriously... well, being a person is about accepting that you are an active actor, and not a passive being of emotions and whimsy.

Many catgirls fail to fully come to terms with this, and so never quite breach this hurdle. Thinking about the past and future strains a fey’s mind a lot. Even beastfey struggle with it.

But more painful by far for those catgirls who do is that while they can fall deeply, hopelessly in love with mortals, their Primal Code binds them to motion. A catgirl is inherently restless, and cannot be kept long. A village catgirl’s debilitative infatuation with a barmaid might dissolve one morning into a worshipful obsession with a traveling bard, or a longing to leave town without warning to see the world on her own.

It’s not a universal thing. Some catgirls are able to keep the Primal Code at bay, or more often, sublimate it through open relationships, on-again-off-again romances, or complex polyamorous diagrams. A catgirl might wander the world with her lover for a hundred years, exploring and discovering all the while, and never fall out of love with them.

But such is a rarity. In the cast of the village catgirl, if she’s managed to start seeing things from a more mortal perspective, this unwilling shift in interest can be torturously painful and guilt-inducing for her. If she hasn’t, it may still hurt the barmaid immensely.

Particularly if the barmaid was unwise enough to fall in love right back. For there is a saying about falling for such mercurial beings:

“A hornet’s nest always hangs on the end of a catgirl’s tail.”

[gigglinggoblin]

So far, the Cloistered Lands contain Catgirls, Wolfgirls, Bunnyfolk, and many fey blessed with animalistic features. The real question is: Are there Mole-People?

The Diggers and the Landlords

[Image used is part of the Creative Commons license.]

Every animal has a beastfey equivalent, at the very least! Common molekin, sometimes called "mud selkies" or "talpas", rarely leave their mole forms—which range from the size of large raccoons to black bears, matching the size of their humanoid forms. They spend most of their time digging through the shallow earth, mostly for the simple pleasure of it as much as anything.

Shy and mild-mannered, but lonely and curious, a mud selkie will occasionally emerge from the ground and magically erect a simple "molehill"—a sort of homey earth lodge—and casually make her residence wherever she's popped up for anywhere between a few nights and a few years. In this case, she usually wears her humanoid form: plump, soft and pretty, with silky hair and fur, cute pointy upturned noses, slightly sharp teeth, and, sometimes startlingly, no eyes. (A molekin's standing form is even more sensitive than her digging form, so she really doesn't see a need for them, though sunglasses and “vestigial eyes” are sometimes incorporated into the shapeshifting for others’ benefits.) Mud selkie standing forms have exceptionally sensitive hands and delicate, nimble fingers.

Molekin are happy wanderers, and don't really care where they end up. This has often put them into conflict with farmers, ranchers, and, increasingly in recent years, landowners. Back in the days of the Kingdom, molekin were afforded an only deeply begrudged tolerance, for they showed little interest in obeying the whims of the Fey Courts or the Royal Family—making them something of a rarity on Lacra for the time, actually—and basically put up unsightly molehills wherever they pleased. They didn't really listen to anybody, and commoners often liked the stories and exotic trinkets they brought with them, so most reluctantly accepted that molehills were easy enough to remove once the molekin left and decided to live and let live. Aside from the occasional hapless traveler falling into an overly shallow tunnel and meeting a shy, cuddly tunneler assuming danger, clashes of any kind were rare.

In recent years, however, wealthy landowners and city investors have begun demonstrating less and less forbearance, or even basic understanding of what molekin are, and clashes between molekin and landowners frustrated about ruined lawns are not uncommon. It tends to go poorly for the landlord. Molekin may not have eyes to hypnotize with, but this actually makes hypnotizing them very frustrating. Combined with their subpar hearing, it's generally necessary to get close to them to manage any mind control.

And this puts the would-be capturer in range of the molekin's own abilities. With slender, delicate, dexterous hands and impossibly lustrous fur—fur which can be stroked in any direction, making mud selkies literally impossible to rub the wrong way—mud selkies are mistresses of touch and sensation, and can stroke or cuddle just about anyone into gooey, cozy submission. Anyone cuddled by a molekin is gradually eased to a pleasurably hypnotized half-slumber known as "sighing", in which their breath slows to the point where they can survive for effectively indefinitely without air. This can eventually have a potentially permanent dampening effect on certain thought processes, so only very wicked molekin would ever consider keeping a plaything without air for longer than a decade or two—or very slightly wicked molekin with very wicked captives.

Molekin are very sensitive to vibrations, so the best way to hypnotize one is often by rhythm. Certain orb weaver Arachne Girls are actually exceptionally adept at using the vibrations of their webs to subdue molekin, as a patter of fact. However, like most fey and decent people, Arachne Girls rarely cooperate with landlords.

Just a smutless lore post today, sorry! More smut next Monday! That said, if you like my work, you should consider checking out my Patreon! I talk about all sorts of fun lore and also post lots of exclusive smut (or early releases).

For instance, if you like the idea of a wholesome but mischievous domme slowly hypnotizing primarily with touch and sensation, you might enjoy the first chapter of Head Over Heels, available for $3 pledgers now, featuring a sly lamia hypnotizing a full-of-herself rookie adventurer with spiraling eyes, gentle caresses, and, in the to-be-posted-later-today Chapter Two, a little attention to her delicate little feet~