Monstrous Ranch Ch. 23

'Master'.

It was new, alright.

But right now, the Ranch needed a Master. Any Master would do.

"Fairies," she called out, "I want you lot—" She pointed to a mass of about twenty-five, "—to go looking for the fleece sprites. Do not touch them, do not play with them. Hypnotize them and keep them busy as long as possible, leading them back to your cages if you can. If you see any scarecrows, tell them to head to the farmhouse at once. Go!"

The fairies zoomed off, eyes glazed with the joy of obedience.

"You!" Bobbin gestured to a mass of about five more. "Go to the hen house. Just... keep them busy."

"Yes, Master!" the fairies sang as they departed.

"You lot!" Bobbin singled out about a third of those remaining. "You go to the border. Patrol. If anyone approaches, send three to the farmhouse to report; the rest of you, do whatever you can to stop them!"

As they left, she glanced through narrowed eyes at Jerrod. "You and I have already done enough damage by the blood we've spilt. The gem can't take it. No more. Jerrod, your job when we arrive is to get to Valina. I'm sure Mo—the holstaur has set her loose. Fuck her stupid brains out."

"Right." Jerrod gave a crooked grin. "And if she tries to cut me in half?"

"She won't." Bobbin snorted. "I'm sure she'll want to, but she won't."

"Can you be sure?" Jerrod weighed the pitcher idly in his hand. ''Cause I'm kinda attached to... being attached."

"Any independence she has gained is an illusion." Bobbin licked her lips. "The kitten is made to serve. When I said not even I can remember half the triggers on her, I was being serious. So you take that little slut and you do whatever you want to her. She will bend or she will break. Either way, she'll be yours." She looked up with blazing eyes at the swarm. "All of you, follow me and Jerrod!" she called. "We will melt that hucow's milky mind into a puddle."

As they started away, she heard a small laugh. She and Jerrod stopped.

Tricin lay there, her tail as tangled as her hair, her expression weak and weary, her cheeks reddened. But she was smiling. "H-have fun with Laca, Bobbi," she said sweetly. "Have fun with your... Mommy."

A deathly silence fell over the vineyard.

Bobbin giggled. Tricin's smile slipped like water off a river stone.

Bobbin took the pitcher from Jerrod. Her hands shimmered around it, and cloudy images began to manifest. A second Bobbin emerged from the first, shimmering with a hypnotic glow—the only difference being her breasts, which were extremely large and milky.

The true Bobbin offered the pitcher down to the lamia. But to Tricin's eyes, the illusory Bobbin was kneeling, offering her round, milk-heavy breast towards Tricin's suddenly dry lips.

Tricin, spellbound, reached out and took the 'breast' with a helpless sigh. She let out a faint whine of resistance as she started to 'suckle', lips locking around the lip of the pitcher and slurping slowly. Her brilliant green eyes began to glaze over as the rusty streaks in her irises started turning gold.

"Have fun with yours," Bobbin cooed, and turned away.

~ ~ ~ ~

There was one moment of pure panic where none of them did anything at all. They just stood there. They just stood still and stared at the scarecrows on the stairs.

Senya was like a statue. He wondered—could Mommy fight? Could Scarlet? He knew Valina could, but was this going to be three against one? He couldn't fight. He was a carpenter, for crying out loud. A very, very submissive carpenter. He couldn't—

Lady Vinifera popped her lips. And as one, thirty-nine of the bottles in the cellar shattered.

The scarecrows stopped at the base of the stairs, startled.

"Go," Miss Scarlet said calmly, stepping forward with a hand on her hips. Her ass swayed with every step. "I will follow, my dears."

Senya nodded and took a step back. Then he heard Valina gasp.

And like a fool, he followed the catgirl's gaze.

Brilliant red lights were erupting from the bottles. Miss Scarlet had freed every single sparkle sprite in the cellar, or close to it, and the basement was filling with brilliant, mesmerizing colors.

The scarecrows stopped, struggling. One shaded her button eyes with one hand as the others swayed, their lips parting.

But Senya wasn't really looking at the scarecrows.

The lights undulated, flashed, like a million crimson cuttlefish soaring through the water. Beautiful little forms—handsome men with chiseled features and muscular frames, little red-skinned women with bouncing breasts and swinging hips—danced and swam before his eyes.

And they were singing.

Cuff the mind to gleaming stone

Empty girls and empty boys

It drifts and floats, never alone

Joyous, slutty, empty toys!

Senya's eyes had glazed over. His mind was sparkling, buzzing, flickering on and off like a dying lantern. Beside him, he heard Valina murmuring softly, and heard wet sounds. The naked catgirl was touching herself. Right there, in the middle of the battle.

Touching himself sounded nice.

Pleasure, cooed the voice of the swarm. Puuuuure pleasure.

He heard Miss Scarlet shouting, but he couldn't hear her above the song. He couldn't hear anything above the song, except the wet sounds. Everything was fading. Static. Empty. Drifting, floating, further and further into the sea of spinning red...

Hearing Valina stroking herself made his own hand stray, even as a tiny voice in his head tried to remind him to fight. At least a little. But Valina sounded so happy...

So empty...

And Senya knew for certain that if she emptied fully, if she stroked herself to orgasm, she would be Kitten again. Back to obeying, back to... nothing.

Numbly, he raised a hand up to block Valina's vision. It was the most he could do, truly.

Even as he did so, Senya realized he'd already forgotten why. He began to lower his hand back down as he stared, wide-eyed and beaming with idiotic bliss, at the dancing sprites.

His head started to loll. He was starting to murmur along with the song as his fingers grazed his cock—

and with a feline hiss, he found himself shoved bodily backwards. He fell into a soft body whose arms wrapped tenderly around him. His head rested against two smooth pillows as the body dragged him backwards, even as he struggled, even as he tried to get one more glimpse of the lovely lights...

There was a click. Then a raspy sound like water on hot iron.

And darkness took them. Silent, cold darkness.

And the battle was gone.

Senya took a moment to register it. His head was still spinning. He blinked, and realized there was some light in here. But not much.

The entrance had closed behind them. Valina was gone. She had saved him.

Senya turned, and saw a long curving tunnel leading deeper into darkness.

And he was in the holstaur's arms.

"Well," Mommy said, locking eyes with him. Her eyes, he realized, were glowing brilliantly—the main source of light down here. He stared up at her, biting his lip. "It seems it's just you and me, huh, baby?"

~ ~ ~ ~

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Komori demanded.

"I mean," Seng snapped, "I went to check on her and she was gone."

"You muuuuuust be kiiiiiidding me," whined the sazae-oni, her slick arms crossing over her plump, lavender form.

"Don't blame me," the jami snapped defensively. "Blame Mier and Suisshu! They were the ones who said they'd watch her. They're the ones who wouldn't let Nun finish breaking her little brain, too!"

"Well, she can't have gone far." Komori, the silver-haired bakeneko who had most unwisely appointed herself the Crows' leader, pinched the bridge of her nose with a groan. "Find Mier and Suisshu, and tell them—"

"Easier said than done." They all glanced over. One of the human Crows was walking over, arms folded. "Honored fey, the kitsune's and doppelganger's gear is gone. They have left us."

"Argh." The gancanagh Kemuri looked so angry, he almost put down his hookah for a moment. Almost. Instead, the short redhead puffed furiously. "I told you all we shouldn't trust them! And remember how Nun said she was a teleporter?"

"You've gotta be shitting me," Seng growled. The large-footed avalanche spirit was pacing back and forth, her eyes narrowed to slits. "This is a disaster. She's going to give up the whole game! What the hell is wrong with Suisshu? A kitsune should be wiser than this!"

"Maybe." Kemuri blew out a little smoke ring. "But we're all a little bit stupid when family becomes involved."

"What would you know about family, shortstack?"

"I knew enough about your mom last night."

"Fuck off!"

Kemori sighed, staring up at the canopy. The cat searched her heart, and found nothing quiet to hold onto.

Suisshu and Mier were off to save Suisshu's sister, consequences be damned. The revolt was underway, or soon would be, and soon, assuming it went as things currently looked, the gem's control would be broken. And now the Master's sister was about to throw a wrench in the works. And Nun was still away on her damnable foraging.

"Let's go," she said, ears flattening.

The bickering fey behind her fell silent. "What?"

"Let's go," the cat growled, glancing back at the others. A trio of wickedly hooked knives flicked into her hand. "If we run into the sister, fine. If we run into Mier and Swish, we can talk them out of it. If we find Nun, well, that's a bonus. But damn the silver fence. Damn it all." She pointed back towards the Ambrosia Ranch, letting out a slight hiss as her ears flattened. "Let's go redden the sunrise."

~ ~ ~ ~

Senya made his way alongside the holstaur, trying to avoid the way her boobs jiggled with every step.

This hallway felt like it existed in another world. There were no sweet smells, aside from the holstaur beside him—only the damp smell of earth and metal and moldering festerance. The floor was cold brickwork. Senya, still stark naked, was shivering, goosebumps racing across his skin. Part of him wanted to seek out Mommy for warmth. Most of him knew that was literally the worst idea in the world right now. But did it have to be so cold?

There were patterns in the bricks, like lazy mosaics. He couldn't see much—the only light sources remained Mommy's eyes and the dim green light from up ahead. The patterns were colorful, their style totally alien to him. Like nothing he'd seen back home. They reminded him of something, though. Something more recent.

Something from around these parts.

Matriarch Zhau. The memory settled surprisingly easily into place. The leader of the village who had defused the standoff back when he and Jerrod had first arrived. She had dressed in a long, flowing robe that bore very similar patterns. Lots of stylized green stars and silvery helices.

He stared. In the cold, musty silence, the only sound was two pairs of bare feet padding on stone. He had nothing to think about but the pattern.

The pattern was identical.

Why was the Matriarch's pattern down in the depths of a Ranch built by Westerners?

He frowned and looked up towards Mommy just as she grabbed his hand. She stopped him taking another step forward, giving a coy smile. "We're here, sweet boy," she said, her voice echoing down the passage. The words sweet boy seemed to linger especially long. Or maybe that was just in Senya's head.

Senya blinked. Oh. So they were. The green light was just around the corner, now.

"It's so quiet," he whispered back. "Didn't the sprite say there were scarecrows?"

Mommy smirked. "This hall is spelled. A charm to block sound from passing through the passage. It works for our benefit here, but I expect it is to keep the... sounds from reaching the upstairs through the fireplace."

"Sounds?"

She gave his hand a little squeeze, then slowly walked around, wrapping both arms around his torso and hugging him close to her. She stroked his hair as he found himself looking up into her shining hazel eyes, which seemed just a little more green than usual.

He realized he was bending his knees slightly. Tilting his neck to ease her petting. His head was close to her pendulous tits, and he licked his lips instinctively. But he did not leave her eyes.

"Darling boy," she whispered, smiling. "Do you trust me?"

Senya blinked. A thousand potential responses went through his head at that mome—

"I trust you, Mommy," he whispered.

She squeezed his hand, then brought it up to her lips and kissed it tenderly. "Then do as Mommy says," the holstaur whispered, "and no harm will come to her baby."

He nodded.

Still leading him by the hand, she stepped around the corner. He followed compliantly at her heel.

The hallway rounded the corner and abruptly dropped into something else entirely. The brickwork vanished, replaced by glowing glass that shimmered with colored streaks like living marbles. The room was rounded, and there were no corners. No floor or walls or ceiling. It was all glowing glass.

Wild ivy crawled all over the floor—the same sort of ivy that Senya remembered seeing growing back home, twisting and leafy, almost cancerous in its determination to grow over every surface it could reach. Its roots had even broken through the glass in places. In a tangled mass at the chamber's center, the ivy climbed up and over something, a lump at the bottom of the chamber that radiated a sickly green glow amid the vines.

The second Senya stepped around the corner, sound returned in a rush. His ears rang as the air was suddenly filled with the sounds of screaming, squealing, horrid wails. Wails of sexual frustration. Maddened giggles. Shrieks and moans.

Directly above the glowing mass, connected by the vines, a nubile young woman hung suspended in midaire. She had impossibly long green hair, entwined endlessly with the ivy as it held her half-upside-down, her arms and legs spread wide. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald, but unfocused, bleary with tears and red-rimmed from generations of torment and teasing. This nymph was the source of the screams. And Senya could see why.

Gathered around her, in flowing blue dresses, stood four blue-button-eyed scarecrows. They did not seem to notice Mommy and Senya. Instead, they were preoccupied with their captive. Each possessed a single paintbrush and a small inkbottle.

And they were painting on her. Nothing in particular, just... endless spirals, in silver ink. One was painting them on her neck, her forehead, around her gasping, wordlessly pleading lips, her spiraling green eyes. Two were dedicated to her breasts, painting long, lazy spirals, climbing around and around until they came to her nipple, then re-dabbing the brushes and starting back down to her chest. And one stood between her legs and was quite busy at work indeed.

This tickling work was carried on in perfect, merciless efficiency, and judging by the cadence of the nymph's shrieks, there was more to it than just tickling and denial. That ink did something horrible to her.

It appeared to be endless. After a few seconds, the ink would seem to dissipate, or perhaps sink into the nymph's skin. This was the nymph's one respite—before Senya's stunned eyes, he watched the scarecrows pause and dip their brushes into their inkbottles in unison. This gave her a moment to gasp and whine and blubber.

Then they would resume.

They were not speaking, or laughing, or mocking. They were just smiling. The scarecrows had been doing this for a very long time time, and they were content simply to continue torturing this poor nymph until the day the Reality came again, as far as Senya could tell. The wicked task was almost automatic for them. But they definitely enjoyed it.

He felt Mommy's lips tickle his ear. "Meet Ambrosia," she said softly, giving a little giggle. "The Ranch's very first inmate, and also its most precious. Don't pity her too much. She really did have this coming."