Worn
A sly Clanthief slid along the warm floor, her belly pressed pleasantly against stone flagstones.
They felt unnaturally comfortable beneath her body, but such was the world of wizardy, and one needed to remain vigilant while relieving a powerful Enchantress of her most treasured personal possession.
Lauren sneered. She despised magic, a dark perversion of nature. This Sorceress’s entire palace was probably conjured by such otherworldly forces. Best not to dwell on such matters, Lauren thought, as her bare feet crept onwards, nimbly pushing the rest of her lithe, petite frame along the ground.
She was almost there.
Rather rude, of course. Though perhaps endearing in her arrogance. The devious thief made certain her toes had well cleared the edge of her “host’s” bedside, before she rolled up to her knees and unsheathed a trusty, well-worn blunted assassin’s dagger.
Not to murder the sleeping sorceress. No, that would be stupid. Most likely Lauren would barely get within feet of the fey witch before some magic or other alerted the unconscious glacial beauty of a dangerous intention...and who knew what sinister fate might await an adventurer caught alone in the depth’s of a crystal fortress at the mercy of an ancient demi-goddess such as this.
Lauren focused. Straightening her brief, bearskin loincloth and bra, she leaned forwards and began...quietly...attempting to prize the largest ruby she had ever seen from the silvery tip of the sorceress’s staff as it rested at her bedside.
It had spoken to Lauren, or so she had dreamt. Only once had she seen it with her waking eyes, but it had been enough to propel the cunning thief to such a daring act of larceny.
Only a moment, and her prize would be free. Lauren had studied the structure of the sorceress’ palace for long weeks, squirreled away in the deepest libraries of the unsuspecting monks of the capital monastery. Memorized and planned, plotted and prepared. So much effort, but the reward would be sweeter for all that diligent study.
Lauren caught her breath, muffling a gasp as she loosened the magnificent ruby from its prison. Legends spoke of many traps and pitfalls within the palace, of terrible punishments and apparently surreal, exquisite doom, befalling any who entered the sorceress’ domain.
And those poor souls were kidnapped.
The warnings did not even speak of daredevils who might invade the palace by their own will.
Free! Lauren beamed, her long black hair falling behind pale muscular shoulders as she lifted the glittering jewel from its snug relief. Now to withdraw, with not a moment to spare.
Back on all fours, the sly thief rolled silently across the flagstones, bounding skilfully towards the huge wooden bedchamber door with a precision honed from countless harsh lessons at her father’s swordmaiden academy. A lifetime ago, before unashamed lust for the glint of treasure sang proudly within her bosom.
Her glittering green eyes flashed back and forth, scanning. Lauren stopped, hand crooked round the rough edge of the wooden door. She shivered, suddenly cold, hairs on the nape of her neck alerting her to danger. Stealing a glance behind, the thief froze.
The majestic sorceress was no longer sleeping.
She wasn’t even lying in her bed. The powerful witch, on which whom Lauren had been so careful to maintain a vigilant eye for long winter nights, had disappeared while the adventuress’ was lost awestruck in the face of the ruby.
She had only a moment to wonder where else her ‘victim’ might be. A glittering, pale blue hand, warm and incredibly strong, grasped at Lauren’s wrist hard enough to force a loud shriek from the startled Clanthief’s crimson pout.
She dropped the ruby. It clattered noisily, threatening to shatter, but Lauren forget it almost immediately as she as spun around to face the naked form of the tall, curvaceous sorceress training deep black orbs on the shocked expression of her would-be burglar.
Lauren flushed, admiring at the enormous tresses of pure white hair framing the unnaturally perfect visage of the sorceress’s leering smile.
She was in trouble.
“Well well. And I thought this one was about to give up on its little scheme to rob me”. The enchantress cooed.
Lauren swallowed. She opened her mouth, dazed, but found no breath to form words with. The Sorceress purred, animalistic, and Lauren realised sluggishly that both her wrists were now gripped tight by a single hand of the powerful, incredibly sexy looking woman proudly displayed before her.
Flight would be difficult. But, curiously, no longer felt desirable. Somewhere at her feet, the memory of a treasure slipped beyond Lauren’s means of comprehension. She stepped forwards willingly, guided by the sorceress who seemed to float effortlessly along the floor beneath them.
The cyan beauty snickered, almost childlike, as she sat Lauren down on the side of the wooden bed dominating the sorceress’ inner sanctum.
The thief blinked, relaxing, unable to form reasons why she shouldn’t be complying like this, so passive and obedient. It felt nice to sit down, to comply.
The sorceress opened a nearby closest. It creaked loudly, ancient ornate hinges grinding as the stubborn door swung free.
“At least you came eventually, I was beginning to worry, you know”.
Lauren sat quietly, where she had been led. So it was a trap, a ruse...she had been led her like a fly to a cobweb. Shaking her head, the Clan thief began to grow lucid, her awareness sharpened back from the initial shock of discovery.
A trap. Of course. All the old tales and songs, full of warnings, lessons. Magic and those who dealt in it are seldom what they appear. Never to be trusted, never underestimated. She’d been used, played as a pawn, in some malevolent scheme she prayed her wits would deliver her from. She couldn’t remain here, in the clutches or this enchantress. Her skills were too valuable for slavery, perhaps this sorceress would be merciful or was playing some curious game.
The thoughts weighed heavily, though somehow not seriously enough to motivate Lauren toward escape. That felt strange...the sorceress had done something. Cast a glamour...some form of binding...it was preventing the young Clanthief from acting on her survival instincts or fear. She cursed, silently.
“See?” The sorceress had turned, her dark eyes returning to dwell on Lauren, an exaggerated, almost theatrical gesturing drawing the thief’s eyes to the fabric her captor held loosely in front of her shimmering body.
“See...?” Lauren answered, quizzically. “See what...?” It felt good to speak. She was recovering, slowly.
The sorceress tsked playfully, like young girl mock-admonishing her favourite doll.
“The suit!” she exclaimed, smirking. “It’s transparent. That simply won’t do at all. Well...not for outdoors, where I do feign some mild flicker of modesty.”
Lauren nodded, hopelessly bemused.
“I...I see. But...”
The sorceress locked a cold, stern expression on Lauren, as if becoming faintly bored with the plight of her disorientated company.
“Is it even worth explaining. Tsk tsk...I’m not sure I even have the energy. Or the time. You’ll understand soon enough, anyway.”
The enchantress dropped the clear, glistening garment she was holding, and stalked over to Lauren with a predatory grin on her face.
Lauren panicked. This was it. Something terrible. Buy time...anything. Keep her distracted long enough to summon the will for a fight.
“W...wait...please...”
The sorceress straightened, her head tilted rather cutely. Lauren denied studying the beauty with considerable effort.
“Hmm...?” she responded, a few feet from the bed.
“What...” Lauren fought to focus, to bring herself into order. It was her only hope.
“I want to...to know. What...what about it...? What about the...the suit...?”
“Oh.” The sorceress smiled, thankfully less impish than her previous malevolent inflection.
“Well, you see. Eventually they fade, growing finer and less distinct. It comes from continuous contact, and the blending with my own flesh and perspiration.”
The words rattled around Lauren’s mind. What was this madwomen talking about? Wizards and witches were always so confounding.
“They start off rather glossy and pale. Still full of their own desires, hopes and dreams, though dulled obviously by the overpowering bliss of their newly-adopted role in the cosmos...”
The sorceress sat, her thigh brushing alongside Lauren’s. It felt good, and the thief began to realise this woman’s very presence was itself enough to hold her in dim-witted thrall.
“...but then they darken. At first they ripple, loosely. Sometimes so much so, that I might even find them uncomfortable. Eventually however, all that begins to crumble and shatter. The pleasure becomes enveloping...too difficult to deny. As their resolve falters, along with their sanity, it changes them; turning them black, sleek and eager. They tighten, gripping my body to revel in their own ecstasy until eventually they pulse and thrum, dancing to my every sway and pirouette.”
Lauren blinked.
“They become beautiful. Dark as night, slippery and wanton. Quite the mad little sluts, supping from my pores as they sink into simple, single-minded oblivion...”
“...who...?”
“But eventually, they fade...”
Lauren felt the sorceress’ hand stroke leisurely along the curve of her clavicle. She shivered.
“the...the outfits...?” she offered weakly, her mind racing.
The sorceress nodded, as she unceremoniously took hold of Laurens jaw and forehead in the palms of her hands.
“Yes dear.” She sighed. “The outfits. You are awfully slow, pretty one, for such a finely skilled Clanthief...”
Lauren struggled, but her body protested at denying itself the joy of the sorceress’ embrace. Twitching, she felt her eyes grow wide in disbelief as the pale blue arms of her captor closed and locked around the back of her head, forcing Lauren’s face to press snugly against generous, beautiful bare breasts.
“mmmppfhh...!”
The thief kicked, straining, as steely fingers prized apart her lips and slipped a hot, distended nipple within her quivering mouth. She gurgled.
“I wonder...how long will you keep your pale, innocent pigment?”
Lauren stiffened, thoughts finally closing around the truth of her tormentor’s intentions. Goddess...’surreal fates’...! She struggled harder...the sorceress’ outfits were living, thinking beings!
People. Real people. People like her...
The sorceress cooed, cradling Lauren mercilessly. She tapped once, playfully, against the thief’s squirming, wriggling forehead. The movement ceased, and Lauren found herself suckling mechanically at the breast of her captor.
She was helpless. The devilish witch was playing, enjoying her new toy, and Lauren whimpered as the realisation dawned that there might be literally nothing she could do to escape.
“There’s a good girl”. The enchantress smirked, watching Lauren’s cheeks puff and distend as warm fluid began to flow treacherously within her mouth.
Lauren swallowed, her eyes fixed. Below, she continued kicking, resentful, as the sorceress’ nipple grew large to nestle deeper, an udder filling the thief’s mouth and teasing the rim of her throat.
Why can’t I stop sucking...
Lauren screamed at herself, panicked and desperate. Though no longer struggling, her mind wrestled vehemently against the now torrential influx of liquid pleasure being forcibly poured within her limp body. A part of her, growing steadily, began to rob the hapless adventuress of a will to defy the sorceress’ attentions, but the horror of her eventual fate maintained a shield, a psychic barrier, against succumbing to the warmth entirely.
The sorceress nodded, apparently to herself. Lauren glazed over, as she felt her body being turned and pulled about until she rested on her back, curled almost into a foetal ball in the lap of her sadistic tormentor’s body. She continued to feed.
Oh Gods...please no...
The Clanthief rolled her eyes downwards, lazily, to view the length of her own, passive form. She was turning white. Purest white, smooth and featureless. It was mind-bending, the warmth filling her body so completely, transforming her...turning her into something...something impossible...yet the sorceress was doing this all the same.
She whimpered. It felt delicious, but Lauren really didn’t want to end her life as the garment of a sorceress...
She stretched, bowing defiantly. Refusing to lose grip of her sanity, though clearly the former thief could see her body grow heavy and incredibly supple.
It’s really happening...
She could feel the air. Enticing, the miniscule convection currents prickling delightfully over her transmogrified flesh, building into a perfect, prolonged orgasm.
Her resolve was fading. Heady and intoxicating, she could feel her new alabaster body grow limp and incapable of action.
The sorceress sighed, partly excited, partly bored, as she raised Lauren’s floppy right arm and let it land wetly against the thief’s now unrecognisably pliable torso. The thief blinked. She’d become a boneless rag doll.
Unfamiliar, now utterly bizarre, Lauren’s perceptions shifted and danced at the limits of her understanding. Thoughts remained, but became less focused, diffuse and dreamlike. In a flash of comprehension, she suddenly realised she could now sense the motions of the fluids within her body, pressing against her flesh from the inside, to match the impressions without.
It took a great deal of effort not to snap completely, when she realised this probably meant that the sorceress’ spell was approaching completion. Gods...was she hollow? Truly empty, like the suit she’d been shown?
Ridiculous...if it were true, how was she even alive? The sorceress looked down on Lauren with glittering eyes, finalising the Clanthief’s transformation into her newest flattering attire.
Lauren despaired, teetering on mental collapse.
The sorceress rose, slipping her nipple from the limp thief’s mouth-hole. Warm milk began to spurt forth from the glossy white opening, and the witch folded her prey’s malleable body over at the middle to rest it casually on the edge of her bed.
The suit quivered, almost approvingly, as the sorceress carefully slid a single fingernail deftly from top to bottom along its back, slicing it open from head to ass to release a tide of white liquid all over the bedchamber flagstones.
Lauren twitched, no longer able to see. Or hear. Her senses darkened and vanished when the sorceress broke contact, and she hung suspended in a world of blissful, ultra-sensitive physical gratification, beating relentlessly against her inner and outer fleshy fabric like a downpour of fresh summer rain.
Grinning possessively, the sorceress lifted Lauren by the feet. The former thief’s clothing and weaponry slipped awkwardly off the pure white of her new hollow flesh, along with most of the remaining fluid that had left her some semblance of human dimensions.
Yet, still. Lauren resisted. Chanting ancient blessings to her own consciousness, she pleaded, psychically fractured, fighting through an explosion of unequivocal pleasure.
The sorceress gently rolled Lauren’s hollow white leg, and began to slip her own pale blue foot within mould of her new trophy.
Thinking was becoming difficult. Incredibly so. Lauren’s “body” fluttered, quivering submissively at the slightest touch. She felt the sorceress’ body heat, emanating pleasure against Lauren’s pearly new surface, stretching her over the delectable contours of the witches’ larger physique. Dizzy, Lauren marvelled as the contact began to produce unbelievable new perceptions within her mind. Such curious, alien sensations...
She could see again. Hear. Taste.
But this was not her awareness. As she felt her own flaccid, empty head slide loosely over the sorceress’ shoulders like a bizarre, cleaved hood, Lauren understood she was now experiencing the world through the keen faculties of her creator, though her enflamed sense of touch remained seated in the curves of her own milky flesh.
She was humming. No...the sorceress was humming. Humming to herself, vaguely pleased with the work she’d wrought.
The sorceress had wrought. They had wrought...or...
Lauren felt her mind continued to unravel, the boundaries between her identity and the sorceress’ beginning to intertwine. She couldn’t see but for where the sorceress was focused...could listen only to what they...what the sorceress...was hearing...
It was intolerable. Deeply arousing, as if held at the threshold of an enormous deluge of pleasure...then all reflection was dashed instantaneously as the sorceress began to move, crossing the room from the bed to the closet. It felt magnificent.
Lust. Climax. Perfection. Lauren sensed every movement, revelling in indescribable ecstasy. As her flesh travelled through the air, pinned to the skin of her creator, the former thief’s pleasure swelled to quash her tangled fear and desperation, surface rippling in delight as she orgasmed immediately in unadulterated joy.
Stupefied, she saw the sorceress, dimly, admiring her new acquisition in a tall, silver mirror. She...they...laughed devilishly, as they...Lauren...noted with some amusement the dark patches already expanding from the crotch and nipples of the glimmering white outfit.
While stationary, Lauren begun to reclaim a little of her former awareness, remembering vaguely that those dark patches were not a good thing at all...something to be resisted. But then the sorceress strode off into a corridor and Lauren
concentrated on the repeating climax she felt at even the smallest of sumptuous motions.
Mmm mmm mmm...
Lauren pulsed, throbbing with the stride of her creator, played like an instrument.
The sorceress stopped. They stopped.
“Now now dearest. You’re going to need to try a lot harder than that...”
She laughed, twisting a nipple of her new sleek catsuit.
“If you sink this quickly, I’ll need a replacement by sunrise...”
Lauren coalesced, her independence returning once again through a fog of lamenting abandon. The stillness retrieved her, marginally, enough to decipher most of the words they were speaking. The sorceress was speaking.
“I’ll make you a deal, little one. If there is still even the smallest portion of white...or grey...besmirching your deliciously docile and obedient surface by nightfall tomorrow, I shall return you to your former self and release you from my thrall. Does this sound fair?”
Lauren couldn’t respond. She willed herself to acknowledge, somehow. To answer her creator, but all she could manage was the faintest twitch along her surface.
“Mmm. Of course dear, if you don’t retain just a little of your present innocent colouring, then it will mean you’ll be beyond saving anyway. You see, the colour is merely a reflection of your enslavement, not the cause of it. If you slip into dark oblivion, and fall black before nightfall tomorrow, then you will have forgotten all about being a thief, or a human, and won’t be able to think about anything at all besides being the best little garment you can be. It will be pointless to restore your humanity.”
Lauren quivered.
“You’ll just be a useful little voice in my head. A source of pleasure and amusement, to distract me occasionally as I go about my everyday affairs. Adorable, but no longer a person. And no longer able to care about such things. Do you understand, pet?”
Lauren flushed. The thought of her losing herself entirely, of slipping forever into mindless, orgasmic morass was something she couldn’t allow herself to vaguely entertain. The concept was too tempting. So insidious...
Lauren shattered, as the sorceress resumed her march.
Moments blended and blurred, filled with sluttish heat and desire, save tiny respites where she...where they...were no longer in motion.
The world beyond grew dreary, uninteresting, as time passed unmeasured by the delicious slip-sliding of flesh under hungry flesh.
Mmm mmm mmm.
She throbbed, hugging the Sorceress.
Mmm mmm mmm.
She tried to think. It was so terribly difficult, and distracted her from enjoying the feelings.
Eventually, after an eternity of purest satisfaction, she found herself staring through dark eyes at her own beautiful reflection. A pale blue woman, clad in a second skin of shiny dark material. Blotched in black and white, like the hide of a farmhouse cow.
Her lips moved.
“Still with us, little dear?”
She tilted her head. Lauren felt a spark. A spark of herself. The question was for her. The blue woman was not her...she was someone else, asking Lauren for a response. It was irritating to concentrate, but she could just barely counteract her mental inertia.
Lauren wondered why she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t remember who the pale woman in the mirror was. It didn’t concern her, the confusion fading as lethargically as it had risen to her attention.
“I can hear you, pet.” The woman smiled. Lauren smiled too, in her mind. The pale woman was very pretty, it was fun to look at her.
Not quite as fun however, as clinging firmly to the contours of her body.
“You are fading fast, my dear. And it’s only barely morning. Tsk tsk. I’m half thinking you don’t even remember the little wager we made, hmmm?”
The woman slid a palm over her own chest, seductively. Lauren purred.
“Well, I remember it. And I promise, I will remain true to my word.”
And with that, the world returned to drowning Lauren in pleasure as she came, over and over, at every caress of the pale woman against her outfit’s pitifully grateful body.
Mmm mmm mmm...
MMM MMM MMM...
Drifting. Timelessly. A voice called out to her, from very far away. She followed it, curious, like an obedient child, until her sight drew together into the image of a gorgeous pale woman dressed in skin-tight black.
“did you hear what I said...hmm...?”
MMM MMM MMM...
“...Well...?”
The voice distracted her. It drew her away from her bliss. She wanted to ignore it.
MMM MMM MMM...
She throbbed. Some small part of her consciousness seemed to stir reluctantly at the attention, and very slowly she came to remember she was once somewhere or something different from this glorious world of oblivion. It was a slow, slippery memory.
“...pet...?”
Identity. She was something. Someone? It was hard to grasp what that meant. The woman smirked lopsidedly at her reflection, and waggled a finger enticingly. A drifting, dull self was losing the ability to comprehend its existence.
“Look...” the woman offered, half-heartedly “There are still a few little white patches...it’s not quite over yet...?”
She laughed. It felt nice when she did that. Warm and fuzzy.
“Well alright, not white. More like grey. But still, not long to go now, eh?”
The awareness began to sink, returning to wallow in the thrum and pulse of absolute, all-encompassing arousal.
The reflected woman shrugged, then ran her hands over her thighs, deliberately exaggerating her poise. Something shuddered, and louder laughter echoed around the reflection.
MMM MMM MMM...
The Sorceress rested a palm on her bedchamber mirror. It had been a long day, she deserved a rest after those tiresome spells to reinforce the palace’s defences.
Sighing heavily, she turned to fall on her decadent four-poster bed, before freezing in remembrance and returning quickly to review the results of yesterday’s fun little momentary distraction.
“Silly me, almost forgetting” she grinned. “You had been such a good little outfit, I lost track of where we were with that little bargain last night.”
The Sorceress hmmed, deep in thought, as she meticulously twisted and pivoted in front of her beautiful reflection.
“Oh dear, my sweet” she cooed, in a singsong voice. “I can’t see any white...or grey...left anywhere at all. Does that mean what I think it means? No more worries? We have been rather dirty and reckless, haven’t we?”
The ancient enchantress chanted for a moment, whispering under her voice. She closed her eyes, and drew out the pervasive, simple awareness pooling liquified within her own self.
“Ahh...there you are...” She smiled. Her empathetic sense perceived the perfectly content, sunshine consciousness of a dull, single-minded, thrall. A mind now shaped more akin to a charmed object than a person, oblivious to time, memory or a sense of even the most basic independence.
“Aww...poor baby. You’ll be happier this way, I suppose...” the Sorceress pursed her lips, mocking disappointment at the throbbing, eager awareness as she began to slip off the unresisting attire.
“Better not use you up too quickly, hmm?” She smiled, stripping off the garment and bundling it carelessly into a pile. Satisfied with the conversion, the sorceress opened her closet to reveal rows of identical glossy black uniforms, packed close together on silver ornate clothes hangers.
Smirking, she caught one of the suits twitch out of the corner of her eye. Tired, the enchantress dutifully hung her newest creation alongside its sisters. On a whim, she spent a few moments switching the outfits around...“don’t want any of you to get jealous now do we...?” before she was satisfied she’d no longer be able to tell one creation from any other in her collection.
She locked the closet.
“Nighty night, pets” the sorceress giggled, while a chorus line of sexual joy thrummed in unison, mindlessly delighted at their eternal enrapture.