Undeath and Rebirth

After hours of trending through the lush jungle, Ebony Ivory guided her friends to her home in the plains. Simple huts dotted the area beneath a blazing sun in a cloudless sky. Curiously, many machines were now also on display. Her fellow zebra warriors welcomed her, naked save for their loin cloths, shields, and spears in hand, as they parted to admit their finest huntress. They eyed the burly ram carrying the unconscious form of Natural Selection over a shoulder, alarm widening their gaze.

“Wait… no, it can’t be!”

“I-isn’t that-”

“It is,” confirmed Ebony with a pursed snout. “Which is why we must speak with Noble Savage immediately!”

The guards gave a short bow before heading inward. The huntress waved for her companions to follow.

Dion nodded, adjusting the weight on his shoulder while Wet Nurse and Foal-Bearer tailed behind. Wind chimes tinkled in a zephyr, many of the structures decorated in animal skulls and fetishes. A few trees lined the pathways.

“Wow,” murmured Wet Nurse, unable to tear her coral pink eyes away from the many male and female natives, who were fully nude and on display. “Suddenly, I feel overdressed~!”

“I take it clothes are optional here?” wondered Foal-Bearer aloud. She noted many males and females alike went utterly naked.

“We consider ourselves one family, so nudity isn’t a taboo,” Ebony elaborated with a knowing smile. “If you wish, there’s no need to- “

Foal-Bearer had already started to untie her top and allowed her heavy pink breasts to bounce free. “We don’t want to be rude, do we, sis?”

“Oh, of course not! We want to fit in with the locals, after all~!” Wet Nurse giggled, weaving out of her skirt, sliding down her ankles.

All eyes were on them, every zebra captivated and aroused by how ample and titillating the crystal mares were. They shared a titter once completely naked; their pastel pink crystal curves left to shine under the sun’s rays. “No one’s shy around here. I love it~!” One twin playfully sashayed her hips and plush bottom, giving the onlookers quite the show.

“C’mon, Sir Dion! Won’t you join us?” the other urged, shaking her bouncy tits in his direction.

“Ain’t makin’ it easy fur me, huh?” chuckled the warrior, shaking his head before handing Natural’s body to Ebony. Not to be outdone by his lovers, Dion tore off his kelt and struck an adonis pose. Many mares (plus a couple of stallions) cooed with adoration, visually feasting on his scarred musculature and hefty flaccid cock.

After a bit of flexing, the alabaster ram and his twin lovers trailed after Ebony towards the tribe’s center; their nakedness rubbed over him as they arrived. Noble Savage, the older mountain of muscle, waited on a throne of animal bones to watch over his tribespeople.

“Welcome,” came his rich, baritone voice through a slight smile. “Ebony has spoken well of your prowess, Sir Dion of Clan Jakobson.”

The caprine knight respectfully took a knee and bowed his head. “Ah thank ye kindly fur yer hospitality, Noble Savage,” he replied. “Though Ah wish our stayin’ here was merely fur vacation purposes.”

The elder zebra’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Not shortly after, an attack happened on Beatrix and company,” elaborated Ebony grimly. “And through necromancy, my former mate has returned to life.”

She unceremoniously tossed Natural Selection at the ruler’s feet, murmurs rising from the onlookers. Yet Noble Savage held his wry gaze, recoiling at the foul stench of sorcery.

“Ohh, Asili,” he said, shaking his head. “This is a new low, even for you…” He kicked the unconscious hunter and commanded, “Amka!”

Groans rose from Natural Selection as his eyes blinked open. And upon looking up to his former friend and mentor, his face grimaced. “...Oh.”

“It would seem fate has brought you back home, traitor.”

He stumbled onto shaking limbs as guards encircled the undead stallion, holding him at spear point. The outcast hunter cast a sneer on the tribe leader, his former flame, the warrior who had captured him, and the twin sisters. But what really made him bristle were the machines that scattered around the settlement.

“You have the nerve to call this ‘home’ after it’s been infested with outsider technology!?”

“That does not concern you-”

“Of course it does!” Natural cut him off, irate. “As much as I’ve despised what you and Nyeusi have become over time, I’m still a part of this tribe! Since when do we abandon our ancient pride for the slovenliness of a civilized world?”

He breathed heavily, snout drawn in a curl when refocusing on the female huntress. “And to think you of all people would allow this! Any reliance on machines will only make our people soft.”

Noble Savage stomped his staff. “You no longer speak for us, betrayer!” The other zebras rebutted the sentiment by showing their revulsion for the undead hunter.

“Ah wouldn’t be talkin’, ye ov tainted flesh,” added Dion, who snorted hot air from his nostrils.

A dry chuckle came from the zebra stallion. “I never asked to be made a zombie. I wouldn’t have died by such pitiful means if I had my way. Make no mistake; I am not affiliated with that lich. He merely inflicted me with his curse!”

“And we do not associate with the technical advancements of the Zebrica Empire,” retorted Ebony, her mouth drawn. “I understand they’re boons from Pundamilia, but at what price? Where are the daughters of Kifalme Moja, anyhow?”

“They’ve returned home to discuss further negotiations with the Emperor,” stated Noble. “We’ll talk more about the matter later. Guards! Tie the traitor to a post! Let us see if you can survive the harsh rays for a day.” A pair of zebra warriors arrived and seized him, earning a mad leer from Natural Selection.

“Pft! I’ve survived death. This will be nothing,” he boasted as the warriors led the hunter away, who kept his head raised despite how he stumbled about. “We both know the truth, Mshenzi! You are unworthy to lead the Mashariki! Unfit to protect our people!”

“Oh, will ye give it a rest?” Dion huffed. “Do Ah have tae give ye another wallopin’?”

“Enjoy your stay here, goat,” the zebra spat. “For it’ll be your final resting place once I get loose. I’ll come for you first, then claim those crystalline whores for my own! I’m sure they’d look much nicer in stripes~” He lazily licked his chops.

“You’re welcome to try,” called Wet Nurse, who shook her head as he eye fucked the sisters. “Yeesh! Even after I tended his wounds...”

“You’re too kind, sister,” said Foal-Bearer when she embraced her, their soft breasts mashed.

Not taking the threat lightly, Dion scooped the twins into a tight, protective hug. “He won’t get past me,” he swore. “A’ll make sure ov that.”

“Nor me,” reassured Ebony, who turned to her tribal leader to make a request. “Let me watch over Asili. We can’t leave the risk of escape to chance!”

“Unnecessary,” dismissed Noble in a hand wave. “His fanatical followers have all been dealt with. I’m curious to see whether he can endure his punishment with those wounds.”

“I fear he will, thanks to the aid of the dark arts…”

Noble stroked his chin to ponder the situation. “Hmm. Admittedly, Natural Selection has always been a stubborn one. Should he attempt to escape, I trust you and your friend to track him down. Then, end him. Permanently.”

She turned to the warrior ram, who shared a nod.

“Good.” A soft smile returned to the elder zebra’s snout. “Let’s not allow this harrowing situation to spoil your visit. We have a hut prepared for you. Ebony, help them unwind and settle in. Afterward, I must speak with you privately.”

The zebress nodded, then waved Dion and the twins to follow. Once more, they bowed respectfully before they left. He and the twins drew complimentary stares from around the village, his scarred chiseled body and their crystalline contours proudly displayed.

“Bet he was quite th’ warrior in his prime,” said Dion. “Ah would have loved a good barnie wit’ him!”

“Still is,” answered Ebony with a warm smile. “He rarely needs to raise his weapons anymore. But when he does, it’s a sight to behold!”

“Sounds a lot like mah father,” the ram complimented. “Ne’er knows when tae take breaks. Always vigilant. Ah miss him. A’m lookin’ forward tae th’ trip home. Ye’re more than welcome tae tag along!”

“Mmm. I have developed a taste for exploration, thanks to Beatrix,” she admitted. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer. Ahh! We’re here.” She stopped at a path to their hut. Foal-Bearer and Wet Nurse looked around with eager sparkly eyes while the two warriors continued their talk.

“If I may confess, I’m… perturbed about Noble Savage when it comes to the inclusion of Zebrica’s ‘new age’ achievements,” Ebony explained. “It’s not like him to be so elusive!”

“Aye,” agreed Dion. “Got th’ sense he was avoidin’ further discussion. Ah know it’s not mah place tae speak, but Ah don’t think yer tribe should rely on such artillery…” It was unusual for him to be diplomatic. Perhaps it was the influence of the twins who eased the ram’s fierce heart?

Ebony shook her dark thoughts aside and said, “I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I must make certain you three have a proper vacation. I’m thankful you’ve taken to one of our customs already.” Her eyes went up and down to the nude trio, drinking them in.

“But of course! We were trained in etiquette,” said Foal-Bearer, who pretended to curtsy.

“We served royalty before,” reminded Wet Nurse, her face lit up. They made their way into the roomy hut, an electrical system that provided a fridge, light, and air conditioning. “Wow!” She wantonly bent over for a better look.

“All this without magic,” murmured Foal-Bearer at her side as they took it all in. She sat her bare bottom on the bed, then patted the space beside her. “Come, Sir Dion. Please relax with us!”

“We’ll provide one of our patented massages,” cooed Wet Nurse as she took a bottle from one of the shelves. She opened the cap, poured the oil onto her skin which glistened, and used her palm to spread it all over her succulent curves. Then she passed it to her twin, who did the same as both oiled up. They yanked the ram between them and drew their supple tits over his body.

“Haha! Always sae insistent on caterin’ tae mah needs,” laughed the burly ram, sandwiched between the sisters as their nipples kissed him.

“A warrior needs his rest to protect us,” purred Foal-Bearer as she playfully nipped his ear. “But we can’t let you do all the work on the battlefield. That’s why we’ve trained so hard ‘under’ you~.”

Wet Nurse circled her areola before gripping her perky nipples and tugging them as far as she could. “Tell us, master. Do you think our nips would look nice pierced? It’s the fashion here.” She poked their protruding pink perkiness into his chiseled back amidst a low, lusty moan.

Ebony grinned, noting that his cock went stiff upon mentioning that possibility. Her half-lidded eyes remained fascinated with his pulsing red rod, unaware that she ran a tongue over her lips.

Noticing the huntress, Dion cupped their buttocks, making his lovers titter, and offered, “There’s room fur one more~!”

Her cheeks flustered as she shook off her daze, saying, “Maybe later. I’m afraid I must speak with Noble Savage as promised. E-excuse me.”

While disappointed, Dion nodded understanding before shifting his gaze to his crystal marefriends. They each lifted a heavy tit to his mouth, which he suckled and nibbled on simultaneously. Their coos became sharp mewls upon his hands, clapping their plump flanks.

Ebony bowed and left them behind, doing her best to focus on the future of her tribe rather than the raw heat in her tender, fertile loins.

What if Natural Selection had a point? Was there a risk they would lose their culture or that it would be perverted? Just how had the Pundamilia Empire developed so fast? Her worries worsened thinking back to the manor and what deathly atrocities might have befallen her friends…

For as long as the ‘Womb of Conception’ could remember, the eldritch abomination had always assumed a mansion’s shape to accommodate its inhabitants better. But after receiving a lot more nourishment from its new mistress, it shed its old disguise in favor of something far more sturdy. Thus, the exterior and interior alike were transformed into a splendid, fortified castle. Its spires rose to the heavens under a crimson moon and blood-red clouds to match.

Likewise, a blood pool made up the moat sloshed under a chilled wind. Greenery cultivated by the twins that once maintained the area was now rotted and twisted. Corvid and Chiroptera creatures perched on the ancient ramparts, bloated beasts that hissed and drooled in anticipation of sucking all virile life dry.

Inside the refurbished walls, a classic violin symphony played from an old gramophone that resonated from the kitchen, where Omen made preparations for the coming feast. Adorned in a dress shirt, pants, and apron, the Nightmare Stag was busy cooking appetizers and entrees while his monstrous shadow assisted with condiments, seasoning, and salad dressing.

During his time as an incorporeal apparition, he lurked in the dreams of chefs and culinary artisans, quietly learning how to craft gourmet-style meals. While the circumstances were dire, the nightmare stag was ecstatic to put all he’d observed into action.

Of course, given how many carnivores were present, the ingredients mainly consisted of meat products. To ensure Omen wouldn’t secretly lace the food with sleep drugs or poison, Alma had her fellow vampires seek and kidnap freshly killed prey composed of pony, deer, and even a few humans.

Omen’s left ear perked as one of the huntresses arrived to inspect the food. Her nose took in the variety of aromas that filled the air alongside the sizzles and steam, the food cultivated as instructed to maximize its beauty. The sight and smell were enough to make her salivate slightly.

“Mmmm! Simply divine,” intoned Esmeralda, a flattering smirk on her snout as pink braids trailed after her. “A lot more competent than the last morsel that cooked for us~!” Her white dress was shredded and swathed in bloody stains. From her thin arms was tossed a slain stallion, stripped in preparation to be turned into meat.

The dark buck paused to look at the unlucky straggler, his maroon eyes narrowed. Like the petite mare, his body was stained and dotted with bite marks. No doubt the huntresses’ sampled their prey before they finished them off.

Noticing the stare, Esmeralda quipped, “What? The poor bastard was ripe for the taking~.”

“I prefer that my meat be unsullied by bite marks,” retorted Omen.

“Pft! Says the deer who comes from a clan of cannibals.”

He shrugged. “There’s a difference between being carnivorous and savage. If I’m going to consume life, I rather my dinner be appealing. Even slobs can be made into stunning dishes.”

Esmeralda mirrored his glare before lifting her nose high with a ‘hmph.’ “I suppose.”

“The food does look outstanding, though,” stated Camellia when she joined her lover’s side, the white-masked mare dropping another stallion’s denuded body onto a table. Her black gown trailed behind the pallid mare when she stepped closer to survey the table. “Perhaps all men aren’t so inherently useless after all. I approve, and I’m certain the Countess will too.”

Omen allowed a sly grin. While he held contempt for the vampiric pair, it was nice to be in company with people who shared his appetite. Even the backhanded nature of their compliments didn’t feel so demeaning.

Esmeralda licked her lips as she watched the fat bubble to the surface of a soup. “Scrumptious! I’d say you’ve earned your place, dearie...for now~.”

Omen knelt, his snout drawn. “So long as Oona is kept out of harm’s way, I have no issues complying with the whims of your mistress.”

“Good boy,” the braided thestral purred, playfully running a finger up his chest. “Just keep pleasing Alma, and the dream faun will be fine. Oh, the tulpa too. Although I’m not even sure we can kill her! Permanently, anyway.”

“And what about Bellatrix?”

“She’s to be Alma’s plaything until further notice,” Camellia said curtly. “She brought this upon herself, after all. Though if you ask me? She’s doing the red-skinned harlot a favor. Our mistress will teach that lowly, upstart succubus how a real Queen of Hell is meant to behave.”

“In any case, I’d like to be excused. My hands are cramping from all the labor.”

The couple nodded, satisfied with his compliance. Sighing in relief, Omen slipped out of the kitchen while the two huntresses sampled the food, double-checking if he had somehow poisoned anything. Not that he’d ruin his own cooking for the sake of hurting them. The cunning stag had other methods should he feel the life of the beautiful sheep carrying his child was threatened.

Still, Omen was thankful Alma allowed him to take routine breaks to visit and feed Lady Ewe. He almost considered their hostess courteous… if it didn’t belie the cruel monster she truly was.

Outside Oona’s room stood Demi-Trix, acting as if she were on patrol. Spotting the buck approaching, she swished her cape and greeted, “Oh, hey! I wondered when they’d finally let you out of the kitchen.”

“This feast must be perfect if we’re to avoid Alma’s wrath,” he replied. “How is Oona?”

“Been asleep mostly,” she pouted. “Frequently complains about the cramps. She longs to see Beatrix and Dion again.”

“Noted. Thank you,” he replied as the tulpa stepped aside to allow him entrance. Omen ducked to enter the doorway, a lidded platter under one of his hands. Once, the vampire mares would’ve checked beneath for weapons, particularly mystical silver ones, but were now convinced he was too cowed to dare attack them.

Good. The less they knew of the Nightmare Stag, the better. He needed only a tiny taste of their fear to plot their undoing… but that would prove daunting with the castle itself watching and listening. It could devour him, and everyone else held hostage here at the slightest suspicion. For now, Omen would bide his time until a suitable opportunity presented itself.

“Omen,” Oona’s sweet honey voice softly spoke, still confined to her bed. “They’ve been keepin’ ye away for sae long, A’m startin’ tae miss ye.”

Demi-Trix blocked the door while the gray buck sat beside the gravid sheep. “I know, Mo Ghaol. But I’m here now.” Omen removed the lid to expose a variety of steamed vegetables underneath. “Only the finest for you, my sweet.”

“Aww, sae thoughtful,” she weakly tittered, sitting up to properly eat before pausing. “Erm, there’s not any… ye know-“

The nightmare stag rose a skeptical brow. “How lowly do you think of me? You already have another living being in your belly.”

Oona snorted before digging in, munching thoughtfully. The dark deer continued, “I’ve sent Beatrix and Zeloph their premonitions. The latter should be aware of a future calamity, while the former relay our present predicament to her friends, currently on Cerise’s homeworld.”

“It’s fur th’ best,” replied Oona once finishing her mouthful, her face crestfallen. “Ah want them here, but it would be a death sentence. Ah won’t risk their livelihood all tae raise mah mood.”

“Hmm. Your mood has been swinging frequently,” he acknowledged, rubbing her rounded belly. “How long do you think until…”

“Hopefully not while we’re here,” the azure sheep mutedly wept. “It’s bad enough Beatrix is unable tae be by mah side. But th’ mere thought ov goin’ intae labor around Alma…” She shuddered, once more reminded of how the Vice Lord once leered at her belly with the anticipation of eating her baby.

Omen squeezed her warm hand and whispered, “I’ll find a way to get you out of here. I promise.” He gave her snout a short kiss right as the clock chimed. “I have to finish organizing the banquet. Try to reserve your strength until then.”

Oona gave a melancholy nod before forcing a smile between nibbles. “Stay safe.”

Running a hand through her wooly white mane, the nightmare stag departed to resume his work. It wouldn’t be long until Alma gathered them all and summoned her ‘guests.’

Watching him leave, Demi-Trix temporarily slipped away into the one place the beast couldn’t spy on her...the basement, which was now its blindspot since the abomination had expanded its horizons after its transmutation and thus had abandoned that part of itself. The area was dark and dank, so the tulpa cast an illusion of herself by Oona’s door to explain her absence. She’d tested this area a few times in preparation and found the echo of her chirpy voice unheard.

Butterfly wings glowed in the dark when she crouched down and wiggled her fingers to work her magic. From the inner folds of her cape spilled a few plushies in her own image, which shimmered when her horn shined to impart a slight touch of her power into each of them.

“Arise, my minions! Arise! I have a mission for you that is of utmost importance!”

Each of them took a new shape to suit her whims. She considered herself a smaller version of Beatrix, and Moxxi and Zeloph had smaller versions of themselves. So she decided they didn’t need counterparts. But at least the cartoony magician could keep replacements for the friends who weren’t around! And so the plushies settled into their finished states.

Before her were plushies of Midnight Blitzer, Cerise Silhouette, and Shadow Scythe. “Hmm... you’ll be Shining (K)night,” she named the blue-furred pegasus plush, complete with felt white armor, a sword, and a shield. “You’re Cherry Poptart!” She beamed at the fuzzy dancer. “And last but not least...” Her eyes turned to the dreary hooded toy. “...how about Shady Sickle?”

She gave them a moment to settle in as their consciousness dawned. Shining (K)night struck a dramatic, heroic pose. Little hearts filled Cherry Poptart’s eyes and floated around her until they popped. Lastly, Shady Sickle wore a perpetual scowl while she coolly observed the dim interior.

The three plushies snapped to attention when she cried, “Go! Spy on the castle and see what’s up! My illusion magic should keep you all concealed for at least an hour!”

The threesome nodded and zipped into the air before they scattered in all directions, ready for their covert operation. Demi-Trix knew she couldn’t do much to help anyone at the moment, but, at the very least, she could collect some information that could eventually prove helpful...

In her private bodeur, Countess Alma stood still as the mannequin servants fitted new garbs over her voluptuous shape. Various robes and cowls were neatly put in the wardrobe, decidedly not to the Baobhan Sith’s liking. But this emerald loin cloth gown accentuated her body well, cloth parted to show off her cleavage and navel. The translucent skirt parted to allow her wolf tail to poke through. Long robe-like sleeves hid her feathered forearms, Celtic patterns highlighted under the crimson moonlight that spilled in.

Giving herself a twirl, the vice lord gave an airy laugh, dragging her talon along her slim stomach. “What a ravishin’ dress! Yes, this will do just nicely!” With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the porcelain dolls and the seamstress. Her scarlet gaze fell to her pet, her grin widening. “Don’t ye agree, mah dearest pet~?”

Bellatrix Primadonna sat on her knees, chained, collared, and utterly naked before her mistress. She didn’t respond; her head hung low. Alma cupped a hand under her chin to lift her face upward. “Ah asked fur yer opinion,” she repeated. “After all, ye’ve made it abundantly clear how much ye fancy me~!”

The red-skinned devil briefly ran her eyes over the green dress that showed off her capture’s large bust and slender deer-shaped legs. “You look… fine,” she answered dourly.

She yelped as Alma yanked on her chain and pulled her to her feet. “Oh, don’t be like that! Tae deny yer true feelings is tae commit slow suicide. Doppia learned that th’ hard way,” she tittered. “Ah’ll only ask once more. What do ye think about mah dress?”

Bellatrix squirmed, hands clutching the chain yanking on her neck. Glaring hotly at the one she once coveted, the she-devil hissed, “... Y-you’d look so much better without it!”

Smirking with satisfaction, the hemomancer released her grip, giving the succubus a chance to catch her breath. “Now, was that sae hard~? Let that be a lesson on how th’ Queen ov Hell commands her authority.”

The succubus stiffened when she felt Alma lay down behind her, pressing her soft breasts into her back. But her tension faded upon feeling those plump lips kiss along her jawline and shuddered when her tongue glided down and up her neck. The Baobhan Sith brought her palms across Bellatrix’s smooth curves, with particular attention offered to her bountiful chest and buttocks squished under needy caresses.

A soft moan escaped Bellatrix’s lips as a wide nipple was pinched, and her spaded tail swayed despite her quiet resistance, the crimson she-demon unable to deny her deeply buried lust.

“Why must ye torture yerself?” Alma asked through a playful pout as she tweaked and pinched her areola. “All this pointless misery would end if ye fully give yerself tae me~!”

“N-no,” Bellatrix sharply gasped. “I’ll never allow myself to submit to someone so heartless!”

This made the vampiress frown heavily, her brow furrowed. “Ye think cruelty is a part ov mah nature, don’t ye? Mah other concubines thought th’ same, never understandin’ th’ justification. Ah was hopin’ ye’d be th’ exception, given we were both made tae please others…”

“H-huh? What are you talking about?”

Alma paused her molestation and wrapped her arms around Bellatrix’s head, squeezing it to her plush chest as if she were a precious doll. “As far as Ah can remember, A’ve always been somethin’ tae possess,” the Baobhan Sith confessed. “Whether it was th’ Burnin’ King or those filthy old high lords who captured an’ cursed me, mah bod an’ soul were never mah own. After his defeat, Ah thought Ah would have freedom fur th’ first time in mah immortal life. But then ye took that from me when ye threw me in an’ther fuckin’ cage.”

Bellatrix winched, feeling those dagger-sharp nails poke into her flesh, drawing a bit of blood.

“Desire,” she continued, her eyes glowing with fury. “Sweet, simple desire. E’eryone wants theirs fulfilled, yet mine have been denied fur hundreds–thousands ov years! Well, not anymore! This is mah time, Bella!”

Her body floated before maneuvering upside down, captor and captive face to face. Alma’s long curly auburn locks coiled around Bellatrix’s shaken form while she caressed the she-devil’s face. “An’ ye can either spend it as a slave… or share in it as mah lover.”

Using her sharp talon, Alma slit her left palm to open a small wound before presenting her hand to the red-skinned succubus. “One sip, an’ ye’ll have more energy an’ prowess than how ye normally ‘nourish’ yerself. Don’t be a fool, sweetin’. Drink~!”

Bellatrix stared at the oozing cut, a part of her dreadfully curious about how it would taste. Esmeralda and Camellia certainly seemed stronger…

But the she-devil stubbornly defied her mistress and slapped her hand away. “What you offer isn’t a real choice, Alma,” said Bellatrix with a spiteful sneer. “Punish me all you want. Because, like you, I won’t turn away from who I am!”

She expected anger for her defiance but instead earned a sickening snicker. “An' who exactly are ye, dearie? A heroine? Pha! Far from what A’ve seen. Lyin’ about yer ulterior motives isn’t exactly noble, is it? Hell, ye practically gave me yer friends an’ th’ manor in this vain hope ov ‘redeemin” me! Do ye honestly believe anyone can ever forgive you~?”

Bellatrix fell silent, her head once more hanging low.

“No, they won’t,” Alma answered for her. “Ah, on th’ other hand, fully embrace how beautiful, despicable, an’ selfish ye are! Ye’ll appreciate that once ye’ve surrendered tae mah will.”

The Baobhan Sith stood right-side up before sticking fingers into her mouth to whistle. Bellatrix froze at the sound of paws scuffling the floor once the door creaked open. Two hellhounds waddled in, their fur rust-colored, boney spines adorning their frame like armor as they lapped at the air. Alma took a moment to bend down and pet one of the creatures, one of many monstrosities that now inhabited her castle, after she opened a portal to allow them in.

“Succubi still need their male supplements,” noted Alma, pulling on her chain to force Bellatrix on all fours. “Ah considered Omen, but he has enough on his plate. Plus, Ah think Esmeralda fancies him fur herself. So Ah figured these canines should prove sufficient enough!” She knelt down to whisper into one of the hellhound’s ears. “Go on, boy. Claim yer bitch~!”

With a bark, the muscular dog approached the succubus from the back, pressed his wet nose into Bellatrix’s crotch to sniff her cunt and ass, then dragged his slobbery tongue across her lower holes. The she-devil squirmed, her spaded tail swatting the horny hound away. “G-get away! Don’t you dare touch me, you filthy beast!!”

Her imperious warning did nothing to dissuade the growling canine, which pressed its front paws into her shoulders to shove her down and mount her. The she-devil felt her body heat up once she felt one of its knotted cocks brush against her slit, the creature trying to find entry with each hump.

Alma stood over the she-devil with the other hellhound seated by her hooves, its own set of peni swollen out of its fuzzy sheath. The bestial monster atop her panted heavily, the tip grazing her wet neithers, her inflamed pussy smeared in its drippy precum as it tried to invade her holes…

“W-wait, Stop! Please! I-I’m sorry,” Bellatrix cried out as she felt its knots throb. “I’ll behave!!”

The Vice Lord snapped her fingers, and the hellhound obeyed with a needy whine, pushing off Bellatrix and scurrying off to find something to vent its baser instincts. The other dog trotted away as Alma scowled at her rebellious prisoner. “Refuse me again, an’ A’ll have th’ entire pack breed you until ye’ve popped out litters ov pups,” she swore to the red-skinned beauty. “Then A’ll hand ye to th’ gargoyles an’ goblins, where ye can spend th’ rest ov yer wretched existence as their lowly cock sleeve… What will it be, Bella?”

Aware she had little resilience left, Bellatrix bowed her head. And when Alma knelt down and stuck out her bloodied wrist again, Bellatrix leaned in to suckle and clean the wound with her mouth, muffling a weak cry at her betrayal.

“That’s it, sweetin’! Have yer fill,” she purred, her hardened eyes softening, her other hand wiping away the tears staining the she-devil’s face. Bellatrix gazed up when she pulled away with the vampire’s blood on her lips. Then she leaned in for a deep kiss. The action briefly startled the Baobhan Sith before eagerly returning it, cupping her captive’s head tenderly.

Bellatrix still bitterly wished she had fed Alma to the monster when she had the chance. It, too, had betrayed her to protect itself, like she had failed to do when they were fused. Their union had saved her, even when the Burning King pushed out her heart. But since they separated, the she-demon had felt incredibly weak and crippled. Thus, she was helpless to resist her unbridled lust for Alma. For the moment, it appeared Omen was their only chance at survival.

“Mmmah~” Alma sighed upon breaking the kiss, helping the succubus to her feet, where she sidled behind her and continued to wantonly molest her entire body squashed under her palms. “Much as Ah relish yer suppleness, ye’ll need tae be dressed fur th’ banquet.”

Bellatrix sharply inhaled when she squeezed a heavy tit. “W-what do you have in mind?”

Alma released her hold on the succubus’ slick mound to point at the dresses hung in the wardrobe. “Pick whatever attire best suits you. Consider it a reward fur acceptin’ mah love~.”

Biting her lip, Bellatrix hesitantly walked over and ran her hands over several fabrics before picking out a backless black dress. Alma watched, running her tongue over her blood-smeared lips as her succubus slipped into the fancy confines.

“This… feels lovely,” Bellatrix commented flatly. Her ample cleavage was pushed up and exposed, same with her back down to the top of her round, heart-shaped ass, since her spaded tail and leathery wings needed to peek out.

“Ahh, a fine choice,” complimented the Vice Lord, running her hands along the curve of her hips. “This accentuates yer natural beauty an’ even compliments mah own regal gown. Very wise~!”

Bellatrix narrowed her golden eyes. “And if I give into you, my friends will remain unharmed?”

To Bellatrix’s surprise, Alma clicked her fingers to undo the collar, which fell with a rattle. “Unlike Varys, mah word is mah bond. Play nice, an’ A’ll do th’ same. Fulfill mah every desire, an’ Ah might consider lettin’ Lady Ewe go. Ah may be a monster… but A’m not heartless.”

Bellatrix detected a bit of melancholy in her voice, appearing to have struck a nerve with that comment. Perhaps there was more beneath the surface than she initially thought?

Nonetheless, the demoness wasn’t in any position to press for answers, lest she risks further upsetting her mistress. She hooked her arm between Alma’s with a deep inhale as the vampiress led her out of the private chambers and towards the warmly torch-lit hallway.

A vast table with an entire feast waited below. Bellatrix noted practically every dish was meat based, with only a few bowls of vegetation and fruit offered. Skeletal cadavers of animals and people alike were deposited in a pile like a morbid decoration. Candelabra and a chandelier lit the room, the banquet set to perfection.

On occasion, Alma, Esmeralda, or Camellia would toss meat into a wall, where a mouth filled with razor teeth would manifest and chomp the snack down in a crunch, a mixture of blood and drool left to drip down the surface. Hellhounds also descended to feast on abandoned table scraps.

“Marvelous work, Omen,” Alma complimented, patting a napkin to her bloodied, luscious lips. “Truly, ye’ve outdone yerself! A’m half tempted tae keep ye here as our personal chef~!”

The gray deer politely bowed before footsteps caught his attention. Oona was escorted by a mannequin maid, puffing while holding her heavy stomach. Another brought in a tiny bird cage with a fussy Demi-Trix locked inside. She was placed between Esmeralda and Camellia, who eyed the miniature morsel with laps at their chops.

Bellatrix glared at the Baobhan Sith. “You promised no harm would come to-”

“Ah thought it’d be nice havin’ yer friends fur dinner,” insisted Alma, wearing a wolfish smirk. The dream shepherd visibly paled, her honey-brown eyes on the naked stallions and mares suspended by hooked chains above, their throats casually slit to marinate some of the food in fresh blood. “Now, my dear Womb ov Conception. Open th’ portal an’ welcome our guests~!”

Omen blanched when one of the walls shifted, split to unveil a colorful hole that hummed and shined. From it arrived the towering slender figure of Queen Tatyana, Sovereign Witch, and ruler of Canterlot. Further adding to her monarch imagery was the multi-layered frilly gown that resembled butterfly wings on the unicorn.

Emerging alongside was her consort and confidante, Brutus Grimmwald, dressed in his white suit with royal pauldrons. The bull-man was only a head above her waist yet stood taller than everyone gathered. When the two locked eyes with Omen, tension was evident to Oona, who glanced worryingly. Neither made any attempt to hide their disdain for one another.

The gray buck managed a polite enough grin. “You look well rested, your highness.”

“Spare me the pretense, Grimm’noir,” the tall mare seethed. “It’s because of you I’ve had to vacant my throne until my sapped strength returns.”

“I see you’ve made ample use of her magic in escaping your detention,” grunted Grimmwald, who wore a similar fake smile. “How have you been, old friend?”

“Hard to say,” replied Omen, whose voice dipped in venom. “When was the last time your trust was betrayed for the art of botanic experimentation?”

“Ooh~! I smell conflict,” snickered Esmeralda.

“You’re acquainted?” asked Camellia.

“He made me what I am,” the nightmare stag elaborated. “Instead of helping me find a cure for the ‘wendigo’ sickness plaguing the north, he took my worst attributes and amplified them monstrously. I was the first successful Grimm…”

Grimmwald snorted. “I wouldn’t call you a success, Omen. You’re barely the mulch I use to enrich my soil.”

Oona huffed while glaring at the couple. “Showin’ our true colors, are we, Brutus?”

The minotaur turned his attention to the pregnant ewe. “Imagine, if you will, that our kingdom is a garden. For flowers to prosper and grow, one must pluck out all the weeds that threaten to infest the plants. It’s why I aided you in the Burning King’s downfall, for he was one such weed. And thanks to your marefriend, the foundations of the universe are in shambles. Which mea-”

“Which means there are new areas to explore and expand our rule,” Tatyana chimed in haughtily. “Lovely as it is, Canterlot was only the beginning of our epoch of magic.”

Grimmwald took his queen’s hand and briefly kissed her knuckle. “But for that to happen, we lack a crucial factor...”

Omen’s eyes narrowed. “Beatrix..!”

“Quite right,” Tatyana tittered. “As much as I loathe the little harlot, her ability to freely travel dimensions is extremely valuable. We look to extract that power, make it our own~!”

“Over my dead body, you overgrown bitch!!” Demi-Trix yelled, buzzing about to break free from her cage while the thestral mares giggled in amusement. The hellhounds barked and raised their hackles as bats hanging overhead shrieked.

Waving a manicured hand, Alma silenced her nocturnal pet and insisted, “Need Ah remind you lot that this is a business dinner. While watchin’ ye three tear out yer throats would be entertainin’, Ah advise ye refrain from hostility. Come, have a seat.” Mannequin servants assisted in pulling up Tatyana and Grimmwald’s chairs while Omen sat beside Oona, who was squeezing his hand below the table.

The Baobhan Sith took a sip of blood mixed into wine, rolling her wrist to stir the crimson liquid. “Intriguin’ idea,” she began, staring at the two canterlonian rulers. “It’s a nice long-term goal, really. But ye’re neglectin’ some rather obvious problems. Not e’eryone in or outside Equestria will easily submit. In fact, Ah wager there will be plenty ov wars tae overcome befur ye even attempt interdimensional conquest.”

“Then what do you propose?” Grimmwald asked as he filled two wine glasses for Tatyana and himself.

“Mmm, just a moment,” the auburn-haired vampiress said as the eldritch abomination opened another portal amidst a brilliant white flash. “Ah believe our last guest has just arrived!”

A thick fog brewed from the vortex as another shape stumbled out. Oona’s honey brown eyes widened at the sight of Douglas, a fellow Vice Lord. The kelpie held his bleached algae-accented mane in a messy ponytail, a worn admiral coat hanging loosely off his shoulders. A white dress shirt clung to his black veined torso, contrasting his tight black pants. Foamy sea water dripped off his chiseled, slimy form, the pale stallion’s seafoam green eyes surveying the guests.

As the portal closed behind him, Douglas sat beside Camellia, Esmeralda, and Demi-Trix, who instantly recoiled at the rank smell. Lady Ewe and Bellatrix felt incredibly nauseous, the kelpie’s sleaziness contrasted by his rugged good looks.

Alma gave a welcoming smile. “Ah didn’t think ye’d actually dress fur th’ occasion, let alone show up!”

A smirk curled his snout when he replied, “A’m surprised ye invited me! Had th’ impression there was bad blood between us.”

“Repulsive as Ah may find ye, It would be foolish not tae consider th’ kelpie as potential partners. We’re all free from th’ Burnin’ King’s threat ov annihilation, an’ th’ Lost World is ours fur th’ taking!”

“Ooh?” Tatyana spoke up after finishing her cup. “Do tell~.”

Alma rose from her seat, casting a commanding look matched by her sinister smile. “What Ah seek is an alliance. Alone, our forces can not triumph over Equestria’s factions and regimes. But together? We could be unstoppable!”

Grimmwald scratched his chin with thought before questioning, “And what would you want in exchange for our loyalty? Half our kingdoms?”

“Of course not,” the Baobhan Sith clarified. “Ye plan on extendin’ yer reach beyond th’ Lost World, and A’m not interested. A’m suggestin’ that we divide our rule rather than merge.” Alma gestured a finger to the royal couple. “By day, th’ lands are yers…” She moved it towards Douglas. “... As are th’ seas…” before pointing back to herself. “... While Ah govern th’ night skies. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Aye,” nodded the kelpie, whose brow furrowed. “Until one ov us decides it’s not enough!”

“An excellent point,” Tatyana said in agreement. “Why should we take your word on this alliance?”

Alma’s smile vanished, and her eyes narrowed. “Then Ah wish ye luck when Varys decides tae eradicate our homeland…”

Everyone at the table tensed up at the mention of that name. Except for the Sovereign Witch, who raised a skeptical brow. “I’m sorry, who’s Varys?”

“A cyborg,” Douglas answered between bites. “He was made a Vice Lord by th’ Burnin’ King, but it was clear he was never one ov us. Th’ bastard manipulated Doppia intae doin’ his dirty work, ensurin’ Beatrix would stop th’ End ov Days sae that he could resume wit his plans.”

“His technology combats any magic or power we have,” added Brutus, recalling how many of his soldiers fell before the plague doctor’s arsenal and bionicle zombies. “But what makes you certain he would come for the Lost World?”

“His disdain fur organic life,” assured the Baobhan Sith. “Varys is obsessed wit turnin’ all livin’ things into obedient machines. Knowin’ him, he’d consider this world a threat tae his ‘perfect utopia.’ If left alone, he’ll eventually overtake us! An’ unlike me, he can’t be reasoned wit…”

Tatyana pursed her lips into a thin line, aware that her life-bearing tree could not withstand an attack from magic opposing robots. She turned to her husband, who gave a firm nod before deciding. “Very well, Alma. I will agree… on the condition you let Grimmwald and I handle Beatrix Belladonna personally.”

Oona, Omen, Bellatrix, and Demi-Trix stiffened yet knew better than to stir up more trouble. It was futile to state an argument when the Baobhan Sith and her band of vampires held the high ground. The auburn-haired seductress rested her chin on her hands, asking, “Any particular reason? Ah know she’s quite a rapscallion.”

“As Brutus said, we wish to harness her spatial powers. But I want a proper rematch with that little wench!” her glare hardened, pointing out Lady Ewe and Omen. “My victory was absolute before their intervention!”

“Patience,” urged Grimmwald, stroking his wife’s arm. “The time will come. But for now, you have our allegiance.” His tunsen gaze shifted to Douglas. “What say you, kelpie?”

He chuckled darkly as he casually pulled off a fat leech attached to his chest, suckling it down. With a sigh, the Vice Lord answered, “A’m game! Plenty ov riches tae plunder an’ wenches tae ravage. Actually, when ye’re done wit Beatrix, send her mah way! A’d like tae have a go at her. Give her a dickin’ she’ll never forget~.” He lewdly lapped at his chops, making the dream faun squirm.

“One-track minded like always,” gently dismissed Alma, who pulled Bellatrix close, almost protectively. “Ye’re free tae indulge wit Belladonna an’ her friends, Douglas… but this one is mine. Should Ah detect any trace ov slime or bile on her body, A’ll force feed ye yer cock an’ balls...!” She offered the succubus an affectionate squeeze, met by her concubine’s dour stare.

Douglas held his hands up defensively. “H-hey, say no more!”

Camellia suddenly spoke up, holding Demi-Trix’s cage. “What about the demi-humans?” she asked. “Don’t they pose a threat to our operations?”

“Zeloph seemed immensely powerful,” chimed in Esmeralda. “And if I remember correctly, he and Moxxi plan to search for others?”

“Mmm, that would be true,” Alma noted, stroking her chin as a sinister smile stretched her plush lips. “If Zeloph wasn’t already in peril. He’s yet tae realize th’ danger close beside him~.”

It took Bellatrix a moment to recognize her mistress was referring to Moxxi, recalling their little encounter before this whole mess. “What did you do..!?” she asked in a low tone.

Leaning closer to the she-devil, Alma responded, “Yer lil’ imp friend had it bad fur her own flesh an’ blood. An’ right befur Ah took charge, Ah figured A’d ‘fix’ her addiction~.”

She slouched her shoulder, allowing one sleeve to drape down and expose her pale skin. Bella’s golden eyes went wide when she found teeth marks, along with a small smidge of purple lipstick.

“Poor thing,” the vampiress continued. “Tried in vain tae restrain her desires fur her brother’s happiness. But at th’ cost ov her own! What were ye thinkin’, teachin’ her tae hold back, sweetin’? That girl’s a natural-born killer. An’ wit a bit ov mah essence, she’ll obtain power she could only imagine!”

“But wouldn’t that be bad fur us?” said Douglas, perplexed.

Alma faced him and said, “Normally, yes. But from what A’ve gathered, Demi-humans have an obsession of sorts. An’ gather communities tae fuel said obsession. It’s not unlike what we do as Vice Lords. All A’ve done is amplified th’ imp’s fixation tae th’ point it’ll consume them both~.”

“No!” Demi-Trix cried, remembering that night she tried to cheer up the disheartened demoness. She shouldn’t have left her alone!

Yet, at the time, how could she have known Alma had seized control from Bellatrix?

“So even if Zeloph an’ Moxxi were tae find more Demi-humans, they are mair likely to take each other out well before they become a problem fur us,” the Vice Lord finished.

“That’s… quite impressive,” admitted Grimmwald.

Tatyana tittered playfully. “You’re a cunning schemer, Alma! I approve~!” She then raised her glass and proposed a toast. “To the new age of magic!”

Her consort did the same, adding, “May this union blossom into a better future!”

Douglas followed, “Let any who dare oppose us choke on salt and brine!”

Finally, Alma held up her chalice. “Fur th' Order ov Ròsan Dubha~!”

“For the Order of Ròsan Dubha!!” Esmeralda and Camellia repeated in unison as they downed their drinks and commenced with the banquet.

Bellatrix seethed in silence, their perilous situation spiraling from bad to worse. Demi-Trix curled her legs into her chest, taking comfort in the return of her little plush spies, who hid within the folds of her cape. Oona did everything in her power to not panic, despite how briskly her heart pounded within her chest.

Yet the only one who appeared tranquil was Omen. When the dream faun looked to him for support, she was frightened by how calm he seemed. The nightmare stag’s expression reminded Oona of a spider, patiently waiting for flies to become entangled in its web...