The Pactby CrowleyChaptersPart 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 1Part 2Up and down cease to have a meaning here. Same goes with most other directions. You don’t know whether you’re falling or simply drifting through this swirling, never-ending void of fog. Your head feels somewhat unresponsive and slow, like there’s a thick layer of wool wrapped around your brain. You somehow gain a foothold on the ground beneath the misty veil, or maybe you were standing on the mist itself. The deep breaths you take to calm yourself in this confusing world seem far easier for you despite the smoke that dances around you. Before you can gather the wits to think of what to do, something steps forward from within the cloak of mist. Something dark, foreboding, powerful. Something beautiful. She’s perhaps twice, three times your size. Her flowing mane and tail seem to be one with the miasma that envelopes you both. A long, imposing horn sits just above her forehead, black feathered wings spread commandingly on either side of her. Two glowing, blue eyes pierce through the surrounding darkness as she gracefully takes one step after another toward you, her long, slender legs uniformly swinging as she draws closer. Your first initial reaction was the pang of fear that rattled in your gut; she was no pony of natural means, a living picture of personified sin. From the high-ranking threat she radiates from owning both a horn and wings, to the unnatural blue glow that pulsed behind her slit eyes. She was something out of a fairytale made to scare young colts and fillies. And she was very much real. And standing right in front of you. “Well, well, well.” she sighs, her silky voice matching the cries for help you heard only hours ago, “If it isn’t my saviour.” Her bare hoof rises to your face, stroking it coyly. You crane back from her proceeding, the hopelessness of your situation creeping up on you with a fatal realisation; you’re without your saddlebag. Your pen-knife, your rope - even your hat! - is in a whole other world to you, and you’re face-to-face with something that seems to emit darkness without any form of defence. “Shy, my saviour?” she coos. Was she mocking you with that word? “I’m sorry if I was a little… forward… in my advances, but that glass bottle just wasn’t making a good home for me.” Faking bravery, you recollect your nerves. “Who do you think you are?” you demand, trying to pull your face into a scowl, “Where are we? What did you do?” She recoils with a hurt expression, “Why, I’ve already apologised, what more does it take to gain forgiveness?” she lowers herself into a bow, perhaps showing that she means no harm. “I suppose I owe you an explanation for your help.” Lying down on her stomach, she pats a part of the mist-covered ground with her hoof. “Please, sit. I promise no harm will come to us.” Come to… us? What? Lowering your guard, if only just this once, you do as you’re asked, if only to ease her into giving answers. “I’ll start from the beginning, my dear host,” My dear what-now? “My name is - or rather, was - Nightmare Moon. For the past one thousand years I was living within a dear friend. Sadly, we were made to part ways recently. A shame, too; she was a princess by the name of Lu-” “Horse manure.” “Pardon?” You rise from your sitting position, certain that she’s not telling the truth. She just couldn’t be serious… could she? “You can’t be Nightmare Moon, that old madmare villain from the old stories. That’s impossible, from the stories I heard you’re a quarter-million miles away if you existed at all!” You point an accusing hoof at your captor, hoping she’d vanish amidst your logical claim. “And another thing! You should be thousands of years old, and you look way too young to fit that description, unless you have some sort of-” “You think I look young? I‘m charmed.” Perhaps it’s the way she says it, or maybe the sly wink she throws your way, but it blows your train of thought straight off-course. “Th-that’s not what I- uh…” you shake your head, attempting to disperse the heat that suddenly rose to your face. You take a deep breath and try again. “Look, I’ll play along for now; let’s say you are, in fact, the evil, immortal sorceress who likes to destroy the world via means of a… a really long night, but that still doesn’t explain where you’ve taken me. And what you intend to do here.” “Where I‘ve taken you? Don‘t worry, you‘ve been here many times before. In your dreams, your thoughts, your fantasies…” You look around, the dark blue fog seeping around every inch of the area. Nope, no clue. You’re certain you’ve never been here before. “I give up, Nightmare. Just tell me.” “Straight to the point, my little host. I like that. Very well, I’ll tell you where you are.” She looks you straight in the eye, as if to show her utmost honesty as she tell you; “You are lying down under your bedcovers. In your bedroom. Asleep. Your consciousness is currently inside the confines of your own mind, as am I. This must be the first time you’ve had true lucidity here. Don‘t be alarmed.” Your purely metaphorical jaw drops to the not-really-existent ground. This isn’t real. None of it is. It’s all in your head. But if this is the inside of your head, that means the blue mist is there too. She’s swirling around inside your skull, inside your mind - without your permission! “You’re looking pale,” she states the obvious, placing an unusually gentle hoof on your shoulder to calm you, “I’d advise you to lie down, if you weren’t already doing that in reality-” “Get out.” Your brow furrows into a genuine scowl. This time it wasn’t just for show; you never had respect for intruders, and she was no exception. “What?” her eyes briefly widen in surprise, “You mean I-” “You heard me. Get out of my head. I didn’t ask you to come here, and I didn‘t ask to play some host of whatever you have planned!” “I don’t think you understand the situation, little one,” she looks you up and down, perhaps wondering where you got your sudden hot temper, “I was weak when you found me, thanks to some… accursed Elements. If you hadn‘t come by with your tiny glass bottle, I would‘ve surly perished! But a bottle just isn‘t good enough to sustain my presence, you see. I needed a living being to enter. To thrive.” she places her hooves on your face, drawing you closer to hers, “I needed… you.” “It wouldn’t have hurt to ask first,” you scoff, “It’s my mind we’re talking about here! My body you’re stuck inside!” “Aw, don’t worry your petty, mortal head over such things,” she strokes your face with a hoof, running it silkily down one cheek over and over again as if trying to sooth you, “I think you’ll find the benefits of our… living arrangement far outnumber the disadvantages.” Nightmare‘s odd behaviour starts to grate on you; how she looks down upon you with words like ‘petty mortal’ and how she rudely forced her way into your skull earlier. While at the same time treating you to a cheeky wink one minute then gently stroking your face with her hoof the next. Perhaps she’s new to the whole concept of ‘being nice’. Perhaps she’s unaware of just how mixed her signals are. Only one way for you to be certain though. It’s not like you have anything to lose. “Tell me about these benefits you mentioned…” Part 3Grinning, she stands by your side, wrapping one of her jet black wings around you, giving you an alluring embrace. “The benefits, my dear host, go far beyond what any other pony in the world could grant. The night itself would be our very toy. The lives of Equestria would be at our mercy, and our darkness would starve and wither the crops of those who‘d dare oppose us. With my help, you would be a prince! A king! An emperor! All I ask, my dear,” she fixes you with a flattering stare, looking as captivating as she can manage, “is that you willingly give me your body.” Silently, you mulled over her offer, trying not to have her enchanting gaze drill into your mind. “It’s a big sacrifice on my part. Having to give up my body just so you can regain a solid form.” “A worthwhile sacrifice, my host,” she leans closer to you when she sees you averting your gaze, close enough for her hypnotising breath to tease your senses, “I wouldn’t be asking you for something I wouldn’t do. It‘s just sharing for a while, after all. I‘ve done this all before, you know.” It didn’t take you long to realise what she was doing; all of her sly hints, her seduction, her charm, all attempts to make you agree with her. To forfeit yourself to her. The worst part of it? You know all too well that it’s working. Whatever spell she had cast upon you to make you agree, it has your free will by the neck. Maybe it was because she was already inside your mind. Could it be you had no choice from the start? Your quick thinking, combined with your infatuation for your invader, gives you an idea; if nothing else, you might as well go out with a laugh. “Alright. I’ll do it.” you resign, “For you, Nightmare Moon, I‘d gladly give you what you want.” A cackle, thinly disguised as a giggle, escapes from her tempting lips, “Why, thank you! I always knew I could depend on your kindness, my dear ho-” “On one condition.” You raise a hoof to cut her off mid-gloat. She freezes, knowing that this isn’t how it should have gone. Nonetheless, she straightens herself out and resumes her soft demeanour. “Name it, dear,” she nonchalantly affirms, “Name anything in the world, and I shall make it possible. Anything.” You look back into her manipulative eyes, “I’d be honoured to let you take my body, if - and only if - you let me take yours.” you finish with a smirk. A moment of silence crawls by as she tries to make sense of what you had just asked of her. “I, um, I don’t understand,” she says as politely as she can muster, “I’ve already told you that I don’t have a body of my own, that’s why I need-” Her expression suddenly drops all traces of emotion when she realises what you meant by that. You could almost see her black face turning red. “Y-you mean this body? This representation? You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head from side to side in reply, retaining that same cheeky smirk. “You honestly want to… be intimate… with it? With me? Right here, while we’re inside your head?” You nod. “Need I remind you that you said you’d do ‘anything’ for me?” Things start to look a little less grim by now; you had her caught out by her own deal. Either she was going to refuse, and therefore let you keep your body, or she was going to make it the best bodily possession ever. There seems to be an upside to both. “You’re mad, earth pony. You’re insane. This isn‘t my real body, you know! It doesn‘t exist! We’re inside your mind, we’re nonexistent here! Imaginary!” “You expect me to give my real body to you when you can’t even give me your false one?” you retort, “I thought we had something special, Nightmare. I thought you wanted me to be ‘your dear host’.” The fiendish mare opens her mouth to argue back, freezes, then closes it again. After two more failed attempts at reciprocating, she simply lets out a cry of frustration, kicks the mist-covered floor in anger via her fore-hoof, and lies on her back, among the dark, blue swirls of smoke, with a despondent snarl. You just stand and watch her unexplained reaction. “Um, what? What exactly are y-” “Are all ponies from in your time period this stupid!?” she snaps at you, the low growl of anger prominent in her voice, “I’m fulfilling my part of the bargain; if I don’t, where else would I be able to go? Back in that cramped bottle? Or perhaps I’ll just wither and die without a host! So go right ahead, pervert! You win! You can take me!” Then, to your total surprise, she furiously and unceremoniously thrusts her hind legs upwards and apart to punctuate her point; “Hurry up then! Hop on and hump to your heart’s content! It‘s not like I was planning to end a one-thousand-year abstinence with anypony rich or important! No, a scruffy, perverse earth pony who sniffs around old caves and dusty ruins will do me just damn fine-!” “Whoa, calm down!” you decide to put a stop her ranting before you end up with an evil, immortal beast having a tantrum in your head. This isn’t exactly how you thought it would pan out when you planned this. Not that you’d call it a plan. “Can we at least talk this over-?” “Argh, what is there to talk about?” she lets out a frustrated sigh, lowering her rear legs, yet remaining on her back, “I used to have a princess for a host, you know. An alicorn princess! And now here I lie in front of a polar opposite; a peasant. An earth pony peasant who doesn’t even respect me enough to let me reside any further than his dreams without having me perform the circus act of intercourse with him. As if I could take a bigger fall from grace…” “Nightmare,” deep down, you realise just how much her loss had hit her. From riches to rags, as the old story would go. An old story that you, as a treasure hunter, knew only too well. “I‘m sorry about that, I shouldn't have-” “Listen to me, little mortal,” she cuts you off, standing herself up from her lying position, “If you really don’t want me to take your body, I can honour that. I’ll leave, once I find a more willing volunteer. But I need you to find that somepony for me first. In the meantime, if I could just rest in your head while I recover from my disgrace, perhaps-” Of all the things Nightmare Moon was expecting you to do, she was not expecting what came next. Slowly, you push yourself onto your hind legs in an attempt to bolster your height (she was a large creature after all; a large, beautiful creature) and wrap your fore-hooves around her. Whether the warmth of her body is due to a deep hospitality lying within, or a fiery heat that burned with a touch of malice, you can’t tell. “What the-? What in Equestria are you doing? I didn’t ask for-” Her words trail off as your embrace tightens around her, any lucid speech drawing to a complete stop when she realises a sharp, simple truth; This is the first time she’d been hugged in over one thousand years. Part 4You remain there for the longest time. You and the epiphany-stricken beast. Two great, black, feathery sheets cautiously wrap around you; her wings making an attempt to embrace you in return. She slowly sits herself among the dark-blue shrouds of mist, her head sunk onto your shoulders. Perhaps if she just let herself and her emotions go, she would feel better. You’d tell her that, if you weren’t certain that monsters don’t cry. But what other means of release would she have? “Say, my host,” she whispers in your ear. You had almost forgotten where you both were at this present time; your head still felt heavy and blurry from the thought of it all. “Is your… condition… still on?” Condition? What cond- Oh! Right… “My body in exchange for yours?” you loosen your hug, and glance over her sleek, silky coat. Her wispy, weaving mane. Her cat-like, crystalline eyes. Your libido curses your common sense over the bliss you would be missing out on, however it was as clear as day to you. The pleasurable experience would only happen to you once. And then she would own you forever. It simply wasn’t worth it. “No.” you state simply. Conclusively and regretfully breaking your hug. “Too bad, you have no choice.” “What?” Before you could even comprehend what she said, two fast, black hooves thud against your shoulders, knocking you off your hind legs. A second later, you’re lying face-up among the dark miasma that broke your fall. Nightmare Moon’s forelegs pinning you down. Nightmare Moon’s body standing over you. “You know, my dear host, receiving the first sign of compassion - from among the lowliest of mortals, no less - in a thousand years… it’s given me quite the idea.” Your efforts to wriggle free from under her hooves prove to be in vain; her wicked strength well within reason, being who she is. She lowers her outsized, alluring body over yours, making sure you have nowhere to escape to. Her glowing, blue eyes inches away from yours, her sweet-scented breath choking your common sense. “Your offer stated that if I… gave myself to you,” she continues, “you’d allow us to become one. At first I was offended at the idea, but since you‘re such a strapping colt, one who cares just that much about a fiend like myself, I can think of nopony better.” At your wit’s end, you can think of nothing else but pleading, closing your eyes tightly before you’re sent into a trance by her own. “D-don’t do this to me! Please! I- I don’t want this! I-” -oh gods, I can feel her lips brushing on my face- “I don’t… want…” -Why are they so warm? Her lips, her breath- “Don’t want… you…” The sweet, hot taste that Nightmare Moon’s lips bring, pressing against yours. To you, that is the finishing blow. You can’t resist this. For all you know, this could well have been played from the start. For all you care, it probably was. You can’t quite put your hoof on whatever sweet essence she tastes like. Perhaps it’s a flavour from a long-forgotten time. Or maybe, since this is all occurring in your head, it’s the closest taste you could perceive as perfection. You don’t want it to end, either way. You know she will own your body forever when it does. Oh well. You had a good run. Might as well make the most of things. Who else can say they’ve been romantically entangled with Nightmare Moon? Her deadly, saccharine kiss breaks only when you give up your useless twitching in protest. When you forfeit yourself. She pulls herself back slightly, eyeing her prey from under her. Proud of her catch; you and your hunger for more of her. Spellbound by her taste, an addiction if nothing else, you lift yourself up, wrapping your hooves around her, and through her misty mane, in an attempt to pull yourself closer. To pull her back to you. One entranced kiss from you after another, she lowers herself over you with the grace only a princess would imitate. With the dominance only a ruler would demand. Her chest can be felt rising and falling against yours as you try to bury yourself deeper within her mouth. After as much frantic licking, kissing, teasing of her closed lips as you could bear, she finally gives away with a sigh and a chortle. Or was it the beginning of a malicious cackle? You’d never know nor care; it was your invasive tongue that cut her off. You feel your heart beat harder, faster as she plays to your every whim, each steady breath from her lungs growing deeper, more rapid, and the low hum of her moaning could be heard escaping her from time to time as your tongues danced in ways you never knew they could. By this point, you’re far more than willing to fulfil your side of the bargain. More than ready for Nightmare to fulfil hers. Working your way down her long, slim, silky body - more of it to hold and adore - you press your body against her own, pleading for her to give you permission to go that special step further. With a yearning sigh, she allows it. Your last thought before the cry of lust finally overwhelms your mind? It was all worth it. Part 5Your eyes flicker open, floating in that brief stage of unawareness before they remember what your own home looks like. Sitting yourself up in your bed, you raise a hoof to your numb, hazy head, trying to remember that… horrible nightmare? Wonderful dream? How could it be so hard to differentiate? Most of it was a blur; bluish-black vapour. A fearsome… no, beautiful… black mare that touched you so deeply. Talking, there was definitely something important being discussed at some point in the dream. Wait! You remember doing way more than talking! Her tongue was involved. You can’t remember what she tasted like, but you loved it, that much is certain. You can’t help smirking at what you remember next; yes, it was a good dream. Definitely the best, and most lucid, dream you‘ve had in a long time. Then you see it. On your bedside table, the empty glass bottle, and not a single wisp of fog to be seen. But if you thought to empty the bottle in the first place, then it must be real, right? And if the events inside your head were real, then that means your actions were too. And if, in your dream, you had really taken part in the act of lust, that means in reality you’d just… uh oh. Slowly, you peek under your bedcovers. “Eugh, c’mon! Gross!” ******* A quick change of bed sheets later, you decide a shower would be the best way to clean yourself up after that small embarrassment. It’s lucky you live all by yourself. Glancing out of the window just as you turn the shower on, you notice it’s still dark outside. You must have only been asleep for an hour or two at most. And yet you feel so rested, as if night is the new morning to you. Nah, it’s probably just the invigorating hot shower. Rise and shine, my dear host No amount of hot water in the world could stop the chills that shoots through you right now. That voice was real. You heard it as clearly as the night sky outside. It was all true. Time to pay your dues, my beloved You knew this was coming Panic grips your chest like an icy claw; every second of your dream, your encounter, comes flooding back. The worst part? There’s no way you can stop her from taking you. She’s already there. The numbness inside your head becomes a dull throb. The throb turns into pain. The pain into agony. Tripping out of the shower, you close your eyes tightly - the less light glare, the better - and try not to scream as the pain slowly grows worse. Your sides are burning, growing tighter as if they want to rip you apart from the inside. Your skin starts to itch, to ache, every fur on your body twitching from the slow takeover. Suddenly, pain tears through your skull as if you had been impaled via the forehead. Your cries do nothing to soothe the stings as your sides burst in unison, your body growing heavier by the passing second. Just as quickly as it began, the rush of torture stops. Nothing but the low hum of tenderness that covers your every inch. You take a dare and open your eyes. The bathroom seems a whole lot smaller now. Lifting yourself up to face the mirror over your sink, you quickly discover why. You stare into the mirror. A monster stares back. A huge, black stallion with glowing eyes like blue-hot fire. A mane and tail of that all-too-familiar mist that writhed as though it had a life of its own. A sharp horn, long enough to skewer any normal pony. Large, black wings, thick enough to blot out the sun. And he was also one handsome devil, you had to admit. “Do you like what you see?” your reflection asks, in an unsettlingly feminine voice, “A perfect compromise between you and I, my beloved host.” You run a hoof through your new mane, and appreciate your newer, sharper teeth with a sinister grin. “I like what you’ve done with me.” you reply, “But you could have given me a warning before putting me through that.” “Oh, but you just weren’t big enough!” the reflection chuckles, “You just had to grow a little! As for the pain of sprouting your wings and horn so abruptly, well, now you see why I tend to go for alicorns.” “So, this body’s mine and yours? To share? You’re not gonna take me over completely like you did with… whoever you had last time?” “I was planning to, believe me. But just this once, I think we can work out a compromise. On one condition, of course.” You throw yourself a sly wink, as odd as that sounds. “Name it.” “Remember your dream last night? The good part of it?” it says. The good part was as fresh as ever in your mind, of course, “If, every once in a while, we… recur that event, say, in our dreams together…” “Um,” you glance your reflection’s new body up and down, “you mean as a separate male and female, right? I wouldn’t be playing with myself here?” “Pfft, you say that like you’ve never done that before.” “I- Wh- You- Th- that part of my mind‘s private, hooves off!” Nightmare Moon, or rather, her-in-you, stifles a giggle. Not a wicked cackle, but something much softer. She may have become part of you, but you get the feeling you've left your mark on her too. “Quickly changing the subject, dear, I will remain my true, womanly self as I do within you. It is the mare you grew enamoured with after all. Have we an agreement or not?” “You can see into my mind, Nightmare, you already know the answer.” Your reflection smirks knowingly, pleased with how fast you're learning. “Perfect. Shall we?” ******* That very night, ponies from across the town reported sightings of an enigmatic, black figure, almost exactly like the much-feared Nightmare Moon, taking to the skies over Ponyville. The direction it was seen heading in was towards the Everfree Forest, back to the old Castle of the Royal Sisters. Some ponies say the thing still dwells there, recovering from its pain suffered by the Elements of Harmony, waiting to strike back once the time is ripe, and bring about night-time eternal once and for all. Others believe it was going beyond the Castle, beyond the forest, to begin life anew and find acceptance and peace of mind elsewhere in the vast, wonderful world. Nopony knows for certain. Nopony but you and her, of course. (Spoiler; I… have no idea what fetish you‘ve got this time, I really don‘t.) - Crowley Part 1 The stone walls resonate with each step your hooves take, echoing on the cold floor of the pitch black, ruined castle. The air tastes musky, thick, and yet somehow carries an electrical aura. The lingering tingle of spent magic hangs around the stonework of this once-important bastion. Something happened here not too long ago. Something big. You make a quick inventory check, swinging the saddlebag off your back and unbuckling the catches on it. The pen-knife, handle modified for easier hoof-grip. Check. A simple glass bottle with a cork, recently drained of your water supply (it was quite a trek across the Everfree Forest, and you knew the journey would work up a thirst). Check. A sturdy length of rope, primarily for tying up anything on your journeys that may be misbehaving. Check. The dark brown fedora sitting comfortably between your attentive ears. Check. You’re ready for anything. Your senses burn with exertion as your sharp eyes scan the darkness, and your ears fine-tune to hear any and every hint of movement. You pick up nothing more than the scuttles of a scrounging rat or two, perhaps the flap of a crow’s wings coming from outside. Everything else is deadly quiet. No danger. But no reward to be found here, either. Whatever major event took place here recently, those responsible have long since packed up and left. Not even a single trinket left behind, which is to be expected; the castle had long since been picked clean over years of visits from fellow explorers and treasure hunters like yourself- Help me Your blood turns to ice at those words. Did you just hear that whisper? It felt a lot more like it was coming from inside your head, but that’s crazy- Help me, please I can‘t live like this Nope, you’re not crazy. Something or somepony is nearby and is whispering things to you. A female voice. Weakened. Pained. Desperate. “Who’s there?” Odd, how your trembling voice echoes around the bare ruins. Hers had no echo whatsoever. “Show yourself!” You reach into your saddlebag, wrapping your sweating hoof around your trusty pen-knife. If this voice is a threat, you may not be able to defend yourself with a blade so small. But if nothing else, it could at least be discouragement. Suddenly, your hooves feel a chill. Like you’re hoof-deep in freezing cold water. You quickly discover why; a dark, dense fog dances around them, silkily weaving between each one. You lift one of your hooves out of the black-blue mist, purely out of curiosity. To your surprise, the mist itself flinches at your interaction. It’s almost like it’s alive. Please I need help That voice. What made no sense a moment ago now makes… even less. You would reach the conclusion that the haze drifting around your hooves and the voice drilling into your head were one and the same, if that idea wasn’t so ridiculous. And yet, you have to be sure. Reaching into your saddlebag again, you replace the pen-knife you hold with the empty bottle you had handy. Grasping it carefully between your fore-hooves, you dip it into the silky mist surrounding you. Perhaps you could take a scoop home, maybe sell it to a unicorn magic enthusiast in Canterlot to study. Instantly, the dark miasma begins to draw itself towards your bottle, flowing into it with an almost thankful sigh. Or at least that’s what you thought you heard. Shoving the cork into the bottle’s top, you’re taken slightly aback to realise that there’s no fog left on the stone floor. It managed to fit its whole self into your container with no trouble. Every last wisp. Fine by you. Sliding the bottle into your saddlebag, you turn to leave. The last distinguishable sound from inside the ancient castle is the clack of your hooves as you leave. Then it returned to its usual, uneasy silence, as it would be for many, many years to come. ******* Exhausted, you fling your saddlebag onto your bed before collapsing on it yourself. The walk back from the hidden castle was easier than the walk there, especially since you knew the way back this time, and it was still night by the time you were out of the forest. Your home was disdainfully small, not much more than this bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen, but at least in terms of price it was a steal; the cheapest dwelling in all of Ponyville. And now that you’re finally off your hooves, you feel it’s time to unpack that bottle of… whatever that blue-black mist is. What’s the worst that could happen? Soon, you’re watching the swirls and squalls of smoke shift from within the glass bottle. It seems restless, excited to be in this new environment. Maybe just eager for you to uncork its little prison. To release it. Slowly, cautiously, you clench the cork between your teeth and pull. With a slight pop, the bottle opens, the sentient smoke seeping out from the top of it. Placing the rapidly emptying bottle on the nearby bedside table, you sit back and watch as the fog stretches across your room, over the floor, over your bed, over your skin. A twinge of unease worms its way into your stomach as the mist fills your room higher and higher. Before you can leave the house in sheer panic, the smoke rushes toward you, constraining you, somehow holding you in place. You open your mouth to scream, but it’s too already late - the miasma seizes the opportunity and begins to malevolently slither down your throat, muffling your screams, choking your efforts to breathe. The surrounding, smothering smoke snuffs out the last flicker of light as you lose consciousness throughout your struggling and shouting. Whatever monster you had taken home with you, it now has your life as its plaything. Pray that it wants to play nice.
Part 2Up and down cease to have a meaning here. Same goes with most other directions. You don’t know whether you’re falling or simply drifting through this swirling, never-ending void of fog. Your head feels somewhat unresponsive and slow, like there’s a thick layer of wool wrapped around your brain. You somehow gain a foothold on the ground beneath the misty veil, or maybe you were standing on the mist itself. The deep breaths you take to calm yourself in this confusing world seem far easier for you despite the smoke that dances around you. Before you can gather the wits to think of what to do, something steps forward from within the cloak of mist. Something dark, foreboding, powerful. Something beautiful. She’s perhaps twice, three times your size. Her flowing mane and tail seem to be one with the miasma that envelopes you both. A long, imposing horn sits just above her forehead, black feathered wings spread commandingly on either side of her. Two glowing, blue eyes pierce through the surrounding darkness as she gracefully takes one step after another toward you, her long, slender legs uniformly swinging as she draws closer. Your first initial reaction was the pang of fear that rattled in your gut; she was no pony of natural means, a living picture of personified sin. From the high-ranking threat she radiates from owning both a horn and wings, to the unnatural blue glow that pulsed behind her slit eyes. She was something out of a fairytale made to scare young colts and fillies. And she was very much real. And standing right in front of you. “Well, well, well.” she sighs, her silky voice matching the cries for help you heard only hours ago, “If it isn’t my saviour.” Her bare hoof rises to your face, stroking it coyly. You crane back from her proceeding, the hopelessness of your situation creeping up on you with a fatal realisation; you’re without your saddlebag. Your pen-knife, your rope - even your hat! - is in a whole other world to you, and you’re face-to-face with something that seems to emit darkness without any form of defence. “Shy, my saviour?” she coos. Was she mocking you with that word? “I’m sorry if I was a little… forward… in my advances, but that glass bottle just wasn’t making a good home for me.” Faking bravery, you recollect your nerves. “Who do you think you are?” you demand, trying to pull your face into a scowl, “Where are we? What did you do?” She recoils with a hurt expression, “Why, I’ve already apologised, what more does it take to gain forgiveness?” she lowers herself into a bow, perhaps showing that she means no harm. “I suppose I owe you an explanation for your help.” Lying down on her stomach, she pats a part of the mist-covered ground with her hoof. “Please, sit. I promise no harm will come to us.” Come to… us? What? Lowering your guard, if only just this once, you do as you’re asked, if only to ease her into giving answers. “I’ll start from the beginning, my dear host,” My dear what-now? “My name is - or rather, was - Nightmare Moon. For the past one thousand years I was living within a dear friend. Sadly, we were made to part ways recently. A shame, too; she was a princess by the name of Lu-” “Horse manure.” “Pardon?” You rise from your sitting position, certain that she’s not telling the truth. She just couldn’t be serious… could she? “You can’t be Nightmare Moon, that old madmare villain from the old stories. That’s impossible, from the stories I heard you’re a quarter-million miles away if you existed at all!” You point an accusing hoof at your captor, hoping she’d vanish amidst your logical claim. “And another thing! You should be thousands of years old, and you look way too young to fit that description, unless you have some sort of-” “You think I look young? I‘m charmed.” Perhaps it’s the way she says it, or maybe the sly wink she throws your way, but it blows your train of thought straight off-course. “Th-that’s not what I- uh…” you shake your head, attempting to disperse the heat that suddenly rose to your face. You take a deep breath and try again. “Look, I’ll play along for now; let’s say you are, in fact, the evil, immortal sorceress who likes to destroy the world via means of a… a really long night, but that still doesn’t explain where you’ve taken me. And what you intend to do here.” “Where I‘ve taken you? Don‘t worry, you‘ve been here many times before. In your dreams, your thoughts, your fantasies…” You look around, the dark blue fog seeping around every inch of the area. Nope, no clue. You’re certain you’ve never been here before. “I give up, Nightmare. Just tell me.” “Straight to the point, my little host. I like that. Very well, I’ll tell you where you are.” She looks you straight in the eye, as if to show her utmost honesty as she tell you; “You are lying down under your bedcovers. In your bedroom. Asleep. Your consciousness is currently inside the confines of your own mind, as am I. This must be the first time you’ve had true lucidity here. Don‘t be alarmed.” Your purely metaphorical jaw drops to the not-really-existent ground. This isn’t real. None of it is. It’s all in your head. But if this is the inside of your head, that means the blue mist is there too. She’s swirling around inside your skull, inside your mind - without your permission! “You’re looking pale,” she states the obvious, placing an unusually gentle hoof on your shoulder to calm you, “I’d advise you to lie down, if you weren’t already doing that in reality-” “Get out.” Your brow furrows into a genuine scowl. This time it wasn’t just for show; you never had respect for intruders, and she was no exception. “What?” her eyes briefly widen in surprise, “You mean I-” “You heard me. Get out of my head. I didn’t ask you to come here, and I didn‘t ask to play some host of whatever you have planned!” “I don’t think you understand the situation, little one,” she looks you up and down, perhaps wondering where you got your sudden hot temper, “I was weak when you found me, thanks to some… accursed Elements. If you hadn‘t come by with your tiny glass bottle, I would‘ve surly perished! But a bottle just isn‘t good enough to sustain my presence, you see. I needed a living being to enter. To thrive.” she places her hooves on your face, drawing you closer to hers, “I needed… you.” “It wouldn’t have hurt to ask first,” you scoff, “It’s my mind we’re talking about here! My body you’re stuck inside!” “Aw, don’t worry your petty, mortal head over such things,” she strokes your face with a hoof, running it silkily down one cheek over and over again as if trying to sooth you, “I think you’ll find the benefits of our… living arrangement far outnumber the disadvantages.” Nightmare‘s odd behaviour starts to grate on you; how she looks down upon you with words like ‘petty mortal’ and how she rudely forced her way into your skull earlier. While at the same time treating you to a cheeky wink one minute then gently stroking your face with her hoof the next. Perhaps she’s new to the whole concept of ‘being nice’. Perhaps she’s unaware of just how mixed her signals are. Only one way for you to be certain though. It’s not like you have anything to lose. “Tell me about these benefits you mentioned…”
Part 3Grinning, she stands by your side, wrapping one of her jet black wings around you, giving you an alluring embrace. “The benefits, my dear host, go far beyond what any other pony in the world could grant. The night itself would be our very toy. The lives of Equestria would be at our mercy, and our darkness would starve and wither the crops of those who‘d dare oppose us. With my help, you would be a prince! A king! An emperor! All I ask, my dear,” she fixes you with a flattering stare, looking as captivating as she can manage, “is that you willingly give me your body.” Silently, you mulled over her offer, trying not to have her enchanting gaze drill into your mind. “It’s a big sacrifice on my part. Having to give up my body just so you can regain a solid form.” “A worthwhile sacrifice, my host,” she leans closer to you when she sees you averting your gaze, close enough for her hypnotising breath to tease your senses, “I wouldn’t be asking you for something I wouldn’t do. It‘s just sharing for a while, after all. I‘ve done this all before, you know.” It didn’t take you long to realise what she was doing; all of her sly hints, her seduction, her charm, all attempts to make you agree with her. To forfeit yourself to her. The worst part of it? You know all too well that it’s working. Whatever spell she had cast upon you to make you agree, it has your free will by the neck. Maybe it was because she was already inside your mind. Could it be you had no choice from the start? Your quick thinking, combined with your infatuation for your invader, gives you an idea; if nothing else, you might as well go out with a laugh. “Alright. I’ll do it.” you resign, “For you, Nightmare Moon, I‘d gladly give you what you want.” A cackle, thinly disguised as a giggle, escapes from her tempting lips, “Why, thank you! I always knew I could depend on your kindness, my dear ho-” “On one condition.” You raise a hoof to cut her off mid-gloat. She freezes, knowing that this isn’t how it should have gone. Nonetheless, she straightens herself out and resumes her soft demeanour. “Name it, dear,” she nonchalantly affirms, “Name anything in the world, and I shall make it possible. Anything.” You look back into her manipulative eyes, “I’d be honoured to let you take my body, if - and only if - you let me take yours.” you finish with a smirk. A moment of silence crawls by as she tries to make sense of what you had just asked of her. “I, um, I don’t understand,” she says as politely as she can muster, “I’ve already told you that I don’t have a body of my own, that’s why I need-” Her expression suddenly drops all traces of emotion when she realises what you meant by that. You could almost see her black face turning red. “Y-you mean this body? This representation? You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head from side to side in reply, retaining that same cheeky smirk. “You honestly want to… be intimate… with it? With me? Right here, while we’re inside your head?” You nod. “Need I remind you that you said you’d do ‘anything’ for me?” Things start to look a little less grim by now; you had her caught out by her own deal. Either she was going to refuse, and therefore let you keep your body, or she was going to make it the best bodily possession ever. There seems to be an upside to both. “You’re mad, earth pony. You’re insane. This isn‘t my real body, you know! It doesn‘t exist! We’re inside your mind, we’re nonexistent here! Imaginary!” “You expect me to give my real body to you when you can’t even give me your false one?” you retort, “I thought we had something special, Nightmare. I thought you wanted me to be ‘your dear host’.” The fiendish mare opens her mouth to argue back, freezes, then closes it again. After two more failed attempts at reciprocating, she simply lets out a cry of frustration, kicks the mist-covered floor in anger via her fore-hoof, and lies on her back, among the dark, blue swirls of smoke, with a despondent snarl. You just stand and watch her unexplained reaction. “Um, what? What exactly are y-” “Are all ponies from in your time period this stupid!?” she snaps at you, the low growl of anger prominent in her voice, “I’m fulfilling my part of the bargain; if I don’t, where else would I be able to go? Back in that cramped bottle? Or perhaps I’ll just wither and die without a host! So go right ahead, pervert! You win! You can take me!” Then, to your total surprise, she furiously and unceremoniously thrusts her hind legs upwards and apart to punctuate her point; “Hurry up then! Hop on and hump to your heart’s content! It‘s not like I was planning to end a one-thousand-year abstinence with anypony rich or important! No, a scruffy, perverse earth pony who sniffs around old caves and dusty ruins will do me just damn fine-!” “Whoa, calm down!” you decide to put a stop her ranting before you end up with an evil, immortal beast having a tantrum in your head. This isn’t exactly how you thought it would pan out when you planned this. Not that you’d call it a plan. “Can we at least talk this over-?” “Argh, what is there to talk about?” she lets out a frustrated sigh, lowering her rear legs, yet remaining on her back, “I used to have a princess for a host, you know. An alicorn princess! And now here I lie in front of a polar opposite; a peasant. An earth pony peasant who doesn’t even respect me enough to let me reside any further than his dreams without having me perform the circus act of intercourse with him. As if I could take a bigger fall from grace…” “Nightmare,” deep down, you realise just how much her loss had hit her. From riches to rags, as the old story would go. An old story that you, as a treasure hunter, knew only too well. “I‘m sorry about that, I shouldn't have-” “Listen to me, little mortal,” she cuts you off, standing herself up from her lying position, “If you really don’t want me to take your body, I can honour that. I’ll leave, once I find a more willing volunteer. But I need you to find that somepony for me first. In the meantime, if I could just rest in your head while I recover from my disgrace, perhaps-” Of all the things Nightmare Moon was expecting you to do, she was not expecting what came next. Slowly, you push yourself onto your hind legs in an attempt to bolster your height (she was a large creature after all; a large, beautiful creature) and wrap your fore-hooves around her. Whether the warmth of her body is due to a deep hospitality lying within, or a fiery heat that burned with a touch of malice, you can’t tell. “What the-? What in Equestria are you doing? I didn’t ask for-” Her words trail off as your embrace tightens around her, any lucid speech drawing to a complete stop when she realises a sharp, simple truth; This is the first time she’d been hugged in over one thousand years.
Part 4You remain there for the longest time. You and the epiphany-stricken beast. Two great, black, feathery sheets cautiously wrap around you; her wings making an attempt to embrace you in return. She slowly sits herself among the dark-blue shrouds of mist, her head sunk onto your shoulders. Perhaps if she just let herself and her emotions go, she would feel better. You’d tell her that, if you weren’t certain that monsters don’t cry. But what other means of release would she have? “Say, my host,” she whispers in your ear. You had almost forgotten where you both were at this present time; your head still felt heavy and blurry from the thought of it all. “Is your… condition… still on?” Condition? What cond- Oh! Right… “My body in exchange for yours?” you loosen your hug, and glance over her sleek, silky coat. Her wispy, weaving mane. Her cat-like, crystalline eyes. Your libido curses your common sense over the bliss you would be missing out on, however it was as clear as day to you. The pleasurable experience would only happen to you once. And then she would own you forever. It simply wasn’t worth it. “No.” you state simply. Conclusively and regretfully breaking your hug. “Too bad, you have no choice.” “What?” Before you could even comprehend what she said, two fast, black hooves thud against your shoulders, knocking you off your hind legs. A second later, you’re lying face-up among the dark miasma that broke your fall. Nightmare Moon’s forelegs pinning you down. Nightmare Moon’s body standing over you. “You know, my dear host, receiving the first sign of compassion - from among the lowliest of mortals, no less - in a thousand years… it’s given me quite the idea.” Your efforts to wriggle free from under her hooves prove to be in vain; her wicked strength well within reason, being who she is. She lowers her outsized, alluring body over yours, making sure you have nowhere to escape to. Her glowing, blue eyes inches away from yours, her sweet-scented breath choking your common sense. “Your offer stated that if I… gave myself to you,” she continues, “you’d allow us to become one. At first I was offended at the idea, but since you‘re such a strapping colt, one who cares just that much about a fiend like myself, I can think of nopony better.” At your wit’s end, you can think of nothing else but pleading, closing your eyes tightly before you’re sent into a trance by her own. “D-don’t do this to me! Please! I- I don’t want this! I-” -oh gods, I can feel her lips brushing on my face- “I don’t… want…” -Why are they so warm? Her lips, her breath- “Don’t want… you…” The sweet, hot taste that Nightmare Moon’s lips bring, pressing against yours. To you, that is the finishing blow. You can’t resist this. For all you know, this could well have been played from the start. For all you care, it probably was. You can’t quite put your hoof on whatever sweet essence she tastes like. Perhaps it’s a flavour from a long-forgotten time. Or maybe, since this is all occurring in your head, it’s the closest taste you could perceive as perfection. You don’t want it to end, either way. You know she will own your body forever when it does. Oh well. You had a good run. Might as well make the most of things. Who else can say they’ve been romantically entangled with Nightmare Moon? Her deadly, saccharine kiss breaks only when you give up your useless twitching in protest. When you forfeit yourself. She pulls herself back slightly, eyeing her prey from under her. Proud of her catch; you and your hunger for more of her. Spellbound by her taste, an addiction if nothing else, you lift yourself up, wrapping your hooves around her, and through her misty mane, in an attempt to pull yourself closer. To pull her back to you. One entranced kiss from you after another, she lowers herself over you with the grace only a princess would imitate. With the dominance only a ruler would demand. Her chest can be felt rising and falling against yours as you try to bury yourself deeper within her mouth. After as much frantic licking, kissing, teasing of her closed lips as you could bear, she finally gives away with a sigh and a chortle. Or was it the beginning of a malicious cackle? You’d never know nor care; it was your invasive tongue that cut her off. You feel your heart beat harder, faster as she plays to your every whim, each steady breath from her lungs growing deeper, more rapid, and the low hum of her moaning could be heard escaping her from time to time as your tongues danced in ways you never knew they could. By this point, you’re far more than willing to fulfil your side of the bargain. More than ready for Nightmare to fulfil hers. Working your way down her long, slim, silky body - more of it to hold and adore - you press your body against her own, pleading for her to give you permission to go that special step further. With a yearning sigh, she allows it. Your last thought before the cry of lust finally overwhelms your mind? It was all worth it.
Part 5Your eyes flicker open, floating in that brief stage of unawareness before they remember what your own home looks like. Sitting yourself up in your bed, you raise a hoof to your numb, hazy head, trying to remember that… horrible nightmare? Wonderful dream? How could it be so hard to differentiate? Most of it was a blur; bluish-black vapour. A fearsome… no, beautiful… black mare that touched you so deeply. Talking, there was definitely something important being discussed at some point in the dream. Wait! You remember doing way more than talking! Her tongue was involved. You can’t remember what she tasted like, but you loved it, that much is certain. You can’t help smirking at what you remember next; yes, it was a good dream. Definitely the best, and most lucid, dream you‘ve had in a long time. Then you see it. On your bedside table, the empty glass bottle, and not a single wisp of fog to be seen. But if you thought to empty the bottle in the first place, then it must be real, right? And if the events inside your head were real, then that means your actions were too. And if, in your dream, you had really taken part in the act of lust, that means in reality you’d just… uh oh. Slowly, you peek under your bedcovers. “Eugh, c’mon! Gross!” ******* A quick change of bed sheets later, you decide a shower would be the best way to clean yourself up after that small embarrassment. It’s lucky you live all by yourself. Glancing out of the window just as you turn the shower on, you notice it’s still dark outside. You must have only been asleep for an hour or two at most. And yet you feel so rested, as if night is the new morning to you. Nah, it’s probably just the invigorating hot shower. Rise and shine, my dear host No amount of hot water in the world could stop the chills that shoots through you right now. That voice was real. You heard it as clearly as the night sky outside. It was all true. Time to pay your dues, my beloved You knew this was coming Panic grips your chest like an icy claw; every second of your dream, your encounter, comes flooding back. The worst part? There’s no way you can stop her from taking you. She’s already there. The numbness inside your head becomes a dull throb. The throb turns into pain. The pain into agony. Tripping out of the shower, you close your eyes tightly - the less light glare, the better - and try not to scream as the pain slowly grows worse. Your sides are burning, growing tighter as if they want to rip you apart from the inside. Your skin starts to itch, to ache, every fur on your body twitching from the slow takeover. Suddenly, pain tears through your skull as if you had been impaled via the forehead. Your cries do nothing to soothe the stings as your sides burst in unison, your body growing heavier by the passing second. Just as quickly as it began, the rush of torture stops. Nothing but the low hum of tenderness that covers your every inch. You take a dare and open your eyes. The bathroom seems a whole lot smaller now. Lifting yourself up to face the mirror over your sink, you quickly discover why. You stare into the mirror. A monster stares back. A huge, black stallion with glowing eyes like blue-hot fire. A mane and tail of that all-too-familiar mist that writhed as though it had a life of its own. A sharp horn, long enough to skewer any normal pony. Large, black wings, thick enough to blot out the sun. And he was also one handsome devil, you had to admit. “Do you like what you see?” your reflection asks, in an unsettlingly feminine voice, “A perfect compromise between you and I, my beloved host.” You run a hoof through your new mane, and appreciate your newer, sharper teeth with a sinister grin. “I like what you’ve done with me.” you reply, “But you could have given me a warning before putting me through that.” “Oh, but you just weren’t big enough!” the reflection chuckles, “You just had to grow a little! As for the pain of sprouting your wings and horn so abruptly, well, now you see why I tend to go for alicorns.” “So, this body’s mine and yours? To share? You’re not gonna take me over completely like you did with… whoever you had last time?” “I was planning to, believe me. But just this once, I think we can work out a compromise. On one condition, of course.” You throw yourself a sly wink, as odd as that sounds. “Name it.” “Remember your dream last night? The good part of it?” it says. The good part was as fresh as ever in your mind, of course, “If, every once in a while, we… recur that event, say, in our dreams together…” “Um,” you glance your reflection’s new body up and down, “you mean as a separate male and female, right? I wouldn’t be playing with myself here?” “Pfft, you say that like you’ve never done that before.” “I- Wh- You- Th- that part of my mind‘s private, hooves off!” Nightmare Moon, or rather, her-in-you, stifles a giggle. Not a wicked cackle, but something much softer. She may have become part of you, but you get the feeling you've left your mark on her too. “Quickly changing the subject, dear, I will remain my true, womanly self as I do within you. It is the mare you grew enamoured with after all. Have we an agreement or not?” “You can see into my mind, Nightmare, you already know the answer.” Your reflection smirks knowingly, pleased with how fast you're learning. “Perfect. Shall we?” ******* That very night, ponies from across the town reported sightings of an enigmatic, black figure, almost exactly like the much-feared Nightmare Moon, taking to the skies over Ponyville. The direction it was seen heading in was towards the Everfree Forest, back to the old Castle of the Royal Sisters. Some ponies say the thing still dwells there, recovering from its pain suffered by the Elements of Harmony, waiting to strike back once the time is ripe, and bring about night-time eternal once and for all. Others believe it was going beyond the Castle, beyond the forest, to begin life anew and find acceptance and peace of mind elsewhere in the vast, wonderful world. Nopony knows for certain. Nopony but you and her, of course. (Spoiler; I… have no idea what fetish you‘ve got this time, I really don‘t.) - Crowley
Part 1 The stone walls resonate with each step your hooves take, echoing on the cold floor of the pitch black, ruined castle. The air tastes musky, thick, and yet somehow carries an electrical aura. The lingering tingle of spent magic hangs around the stonework of this once-important bastion. Something happened here not too long ago. Something big. You make a quick inventory check, swinging the saddlebag off your back and unbuckling the catches on it. The pen-knife, handle modified for easier hoof-grip. Check. A simple glass bottle with a cork, recently drained of your water supply (it was quite a trek across the Everfree Forest, and you knew the journey would work up a thirst). Check. A sturdy length of rope, primarily for tying up anything on your journeys that may be misbehaving. Check. The dark brown fedora sitting comfortably between your attentive ears. Check. You’re ready for anything. Your senses burn with exertion as your sharp eyes scan the darkness, and your ears fine-tune to hear any and every hint of movement. You pick up nothing more than the scuttles of a scrounging rat or two, perhaps the flap of a crow’s wings coming from outside. Everything else is deadly quiet. No danger. But no reward to be found here, either. Whatever major event took place here recently, those responsible have long since packed up and left. Not even a single trinket left behind, which is to be expected; the castle had long since been picked clean over years of visits from fellow explorers and treasure hunters like yourself- Help me Your blood turns to ice at those words. Did you just hear that whisper? It felt a lot more like it was coming from inside your head, but that’s crazy- Help me, please I can‘t live like this Nope, you’re not crazy. Something or somepony is nearby and is whispering things to you. A female voice. Weakened. Pained. Desperate. “Who’s there?” Odd, how your trembling voice echoes around the bare ruins. Hers had no echo whatsoever. “Show yourself!” You reach into your saddlebag, wrapping your sweating hoof around your trusty pen-knife. If this voice is a threat, you may not be able to defend yourself with a blade so small. But if nothing else, it could at least be discouragement. Suddenly, your hooves feel a chill. Like you’re hoof-deep in freezing cold water. You quickly discover why; a dark, dense fog dances around them, silkily weaving between each one. You lift one of your hooves out of the black-blue mist, purely out of curiosity. To your surprise, the mist itself flinches at your interaction. It’s almost like it’s alive. Please I need help That voice. What made no sense a moment ago now makes… even less. You would reach the conclusion that the haze drifting around your hooves and the voice drilling into your head were one and the same, if that idea wasn’t so ridiculous. And yet, you have to be sure. Reaching into your saddlebag again, you replace the pen-knife you hold with the empty bottle you had handy. Grasping it carefully between your fore-hooves, you dip it into the silky mist surrounding you. Perhaps you could take a scoop home, maybe sell it to a unicorn magic enthusiast in Canterlot to study. Instantly, the dark miasma begins to draw itself towards your bottle, flowing into it with an almost thankful sigh. Or at least that’s what you thought you heard. Shoving the cork into the bottle’s top, you’re taken slightly aback to realise that there’s no fog left on the stone floor. It managed to fit its whole self into your container with no trouble. Every last wisp. Fine by you. Sliding the bottle into your saddlebag, you turn to leave. The last distinguishable sound from inside the ancient castle is the clack of your hooves as you leave. Then it returned to its usual, uneasy silence, as it would be for many, many years to come. ******* Exhausted, you fling your saddlebag onto your bed before collapsing on it yourself. The walk back from the hidden castle was easier than the walk there, especially since you knew the way back this time, and it was still night by the time you were out of the forest. Your home was disdainfully small, not much more than this bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen, but at least in terms of price it was a steal; the cheapest dwelling in all of Ponyville. And now that you’re finally off your hooves, you feel it’s time to unpack that bottle of… whatever that blue-black mist is. What’s the worst that could happen? Soon, you’re watching the swirls and squalls of smoke shift from within the glass bottle. It seems restless, excited to be in this new environment. Maybe just eager for you to uncork its little prison. To release it. Slowly, cautiously, you clench the cork between your teeth and pull. With a slight pop, the bottle opens, the sentient smoke seeping out from the top of it. Placing the rapidly emptying bottle on the nearby bedside table, you sit back and watch as the fog stretches across your room, over the floor, over your bed, over your skin. A twinge of unease worms its way into your stomach as the mist fills your room higher and higher. Before you can leave the house in sheer panic, the smoke rushes toward you, constraining you, somehow holding you in place. You open your mouth to scream, but it’s too already late - the miasma seizes the opportunity and begins to malevolently slither down your throat, muffling your screams, choking your efforts to breathe. The surrounding, smothering smoke snuffs out the last flicker of light as you lose consciousness throughout your struggling and shouting. Whatever monster you had taken home with you, it now has your life as its plaything. Pray that it wants to play nice.
