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In a decrepit manor home tucked away within the eternally fog enshrouded woodlands surrounding an equally desolate bayfront settlement left to wither away under the unrelenting footfalls of time’s passage. Forgotten tales spoke of a supposed treasure lying somewhere within the dusty, cobwebbed innards of the rotting building. Something called The Mariner’s Brooch, a tiny little trinket said to be inlaid with a clean cut sapphire of a size and quality that made it’s worth number in the seven digit range. And that was only considering the gemstone itself…add in the history and reputation behind its long vanished owner, and the final sum, predictably, was enough to draw the attention of many. Each one seeking the brooch for their own personal gain.
One would think a tiny trinket like a brooch could be acquired without little effort, especially considering the simplistic nature of its resting place. Just walk in, turn the place upside down, and sooner or later, the treasure would show itself to a persevering individual…nothing more than a lazy farce that would never come to be.
Instead, the hunt for The Mariner’s Brooch was starting to turn out to be quite the dangerous ordeal. With a string of mysterious disappearances either en route or near the vicinity of the dusty old husk that housed the treasure. Many were quick to abandon the pursuit, leaving a small handful to brave on despite all they had heard; of people vanishing without a trace while roaming the halls and the nightmarish mental illness many others had succumbed to through inexplicable means before blinking off the face of the earth like those in the mansion proper. And considering the abandoned nature of the island that housed the brooch’s cursed domain, close to nothing could be done by authority figures besides warn against any future attempt at seeking out the brooch.
While the circumstances behind The Mariner’s Brooch and its original owner were shrouded in mystery, few had speculated the idea that it had been the former who had brought prosperity to the bay, not the influence and charisma of the latter. For once their time had come and gone, the brooch’s disuse and the mansion’s fall to shambles preceded the fall of the bay’s bounty and the exodus of its once thriving community. An unsubstantiated rumor that would soon be proven true to the two hunters poking around what looked to be the master bedroom, its weathered walls and rotted floors creaking with every footfall and careless hand pushing brittle furniture around. Oblivious to the danger after burning fuel and money on the resources needed to get to where they currently stood, the scruffy men weren’t about to just turn tail and leave without their prize in hand. A prize, unbeknownst to them, one more so the other would get to enjoy for just the briefest of moments as a brief refraction of light catches the attention of the fellow closest to the rot-eaten bed frame, gazing upon a pristine oddity sitting out atop the ruined nightstand…isolating him from the panicked shouting of his companion and the explosive ruckus of a shifting environ rocking the floorboards as drifting hands reach out to grasp ahold of velvet, bedazzled eyes locked onto the subdued light burning within a darkened gemstone until it sits cozy beneath his neck. Attaching itself to a frilly choker formed from the collar of a raggedy shirt that no longer existed. Rewritten by an intangible wave of otherworldly energy encapsulating the man, doing more than just splitting weathered tatters into revealing fabrics as the wiry body beneath stretches and contorts to fill a uniform that would fit a raunchy stripper working in a themed club more than a hardened treasure hunter…
And as the borderline instantaneous changes came to a head alongside an inexplicable overhaul of the mottled ruin leaving a pristine bedroom, the confused mind of the thief would be locked in puzzlement. Questioning himself on his…no, her own identity. Discarding the notion of her ever being a man when the dazed, half lidded eyes of an addled vixen flanked by lengthened locks of maroon silk styled into girly twintails takes in the sight of two slender arms branching off of exposed shoulders, tapering into slender digits and warm palms cleansed of dirt and calluses. And in the middle of it all, blocking the rest of her lithe body from view, sits a fine bosom hanging off the front of a slender torso. Milky breasts aching for a firm hand to play with their meaty heft as tender nipples swell to solid erection beneath a woefully inadequate crimson corset that leaves little to the imagination.
She didn't need to view the rest of her figure. Not when the arousing bite of a sinfully tight leotard and the grace of rushing air told her all she needed to know as invisible fingers trace the curvy outlines of a voluptuous figure. Releasing a sigh from vivacious lips uttered in a sonorous voice dripping with perverse want from the feeling of semitransparent cotton weave digging into the juicy folds of a gash nestled warm and snug between strong yet cushioned legs. Demonstrating an innate flexibility and prowess with the manipulation of said limbs once the newly birthed, bunny ear toting slut plants herself against a birchwood wardrobe with a leg raised up high. Not a hint of shame to be seen in lustful eyes that narrows at the sight of the only man in the room. Loving the way his spastic stare zips between the gemstone on her neck and the rest of her titillating form. Providing enough stimuli for repurposed glands and innards to lube up a puckered slit flexing in an effort to be free of the seamless panties hiding it from view. Just like those baggy trousers of his, masking a spectacular wiener from view, one she could already envision being large enough for the tip to pop inside of her baby room in one solid thrust…were he not busy babbling on about a nonsensical tale she could not believe.
A treasure hunter? That couldn't be true, not when all she had to her name were the myriad techniques to please a man and the stamina to last through two days of having her holes filled. Not pick through ruins and all that other nonsense. And for starters, a spunky gal like herself would never go with a name like Harold. That was a man's name, and a man had pecs, not a nice set of boobs…nor did they have a fat little pussy like the one between her legs screaming to be satisfied. Hence her reason for being here in the first place; to be with the one who had bought her for a day, not tracking some stupid brooch as the dazed stranger finally started to approach her with a hunger in his eyes. Signaling the redhead to scooch on over to the bed, all while making sure that each step was taken with an exaggerated sway to fertile hips. Maximizing the emphasis of a pliable ass, their cheeks beckoning for him to grab hold of them and mark her as his property, posing like a sensual gravure model with her arms cupped around her tits and her legs pressed tightly together; an invitation to rid themselves of their status as strangers with a sweaty tussle in the sheets. Vapid and ignorant to all she had lost when there was so much more to be gained within the confines of an eternal loop the pair would call home for eternity. Settling in nicely as the woman allows him the honor of parting her legs, and then her clothes, before descending upon her lips with a sloppy kiss. The true prize all but forgotten as the two join in coital union, never again to stroke her own phallus when another had already plunged into the shivering canals left by it’s erasure.Twitching as nothing more than an adorable little nub of collective nerves that would be taken care of in due time once her man was done inseminating her with a pent up batch of piping hot cum…eager to see release inside the physical embodiment of his suppressed lust for women. Deprived of the memory that told him this oriental redhead…or rather, the person she once was, had ever been his friend…
The pair would soon be added to the list of missing individuals after their logged boat had been recovered still moored to the bay, the occupants long gone, spirited away without a trace with not a willing soul to search for them within the dark forest and the treasure laden mansion lying at its heart. Having claimed yet more tenants to fill its otherworldly halls and rooms for a purpose, a power, no one would ever come to understand in the decades to come as the gullible and the foolish swarmed toward the island, lured by the lingering tales of The Mariner’s Brooch…and all it stood to impart to them…
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