By Prender

TF (monsters)

It’s amazing how many different layers people have.

First there’s us, me, Rebecca, and her, Nina, lovers, partners, soulmates. Two ordinary girls in love, living together, swapping books, having vanilla sex. (And yeah, the sex is good.)

We met at a club. I saw her across a crowded room, as the saying goes. I’d never had a relationship with another girl before, had never even suspected I could, but the moment I saw her I knew I had to have her.

Or, well, I knew she had to have me.

See, this goes back to the kind of club we were at.

I was just beginning to explore my submissive desires then, after years of pretending they didn’t exist, and I’d been lucky to hook up with a couple who were showing me the ropes, as it were. Coming to the Dungeon (oh, and what a cliched name that was) was part of that, part of my coming out.

I looked at Nina, in her black latex tights and boots, and she looked at me, in the little red latex dress I’d so nervously bought and spent so long squeezing myself into. And we knew. We just knew.

The funny thing is, when people find out about our domme and sub play, they always get it wrong. They see Nina, blonde, feminine, a little on the short side, and they see me, tall, messy black and blue hair, a full sleeve of tattoos, and they think, well, the blonde girl is obviously the sub. Right?

Nuh-huh. Wrong.

As I said, most of the time we’re just another boring lesbian couple in suburbia. We have a house, two cats, even a Subaru.

But when we play …

Hell, what that woman does to me.

Me in shackles, the ball gag in my mouth, my hands in an arm binder behind my back, weights hanging from my nipple piercings.

Nina, her hair pulled back into a bun. The black corset that pushes up her breasts. The look on her face, a mix of affection and disdain. She undoes the gag, giving me back my voice.

(And could this really be the woman I woke up next to this morning, the woman who lovingly made me breakfast?)

“Do you know what you’ve done wrong, kitten?” she says.

“Was it answering back, Mistress?” I ask. (And of course it was. I can be a total brat when I have to be. She needs motivating, naturally.)

She nods. “Now, how shall we punish you? We could use the flogger …” (And we have a very fine flogger that produces a darling little sting on my buttocks.)

“Or there’s the feeldoe …” (And that’s wonderful too. I hide my grin. After all, I’m supposed to be getting punished.)

“Or … we could use this.” And she walks over to a shelf and taps a little wooden box.

Instantly all thoughts of floggers or dildoes go out of my head.

Oh yes, please, Nina, that.

“Oh no, please, Mistress, not that!”

“Hmph. I believe I hadn’t given you permission to speak. Oh, my dear kitten, all the things you’re getting wrong today …”

She opens the box and shows me the contents. The syringes. The little vials of green liquid.

“Perhaps you’ll find the proper motivation to change your ways if you get a little … fright?”

And this goes back to what I was saying about layers.

First layer, Rebecca and Nina. Second layer, mistress and kitten.

Third layer … monsters.

When Nina had suggested adding transformation serums to our play, I’d said sure, why not. I’d heard about them from some friends. About how amazing it was when the sub had been reduced to the size of a Barbie doll, or the domme had become part-cat.

Turned out Nina had something more creative in mind.

We’d played with the serums several times now and I’d been long anticipating the next round.

The next round of becoming monsters.

Oh, and how amazing, how wonderful, how just plain deliciously wrong it was to transform your body to something bizarre, out of this world. And the best part was, each serum was completely random, a different transformation.

(And what did it say that even when her body had been reduced to a blob that looked like a huge raspberry jelly, Nina could still — and certainly did — top me?)

I watch as Nina fills one syringe and then swiftly, daintily, injects herself in the belly. She puts the needle down before sauntering over to me, standing just a few inches away.

I reel with horror. “Oh Mistress, what have you done? Oh God, no! I … I can’t watch …”

“On the contrary, kitten,” Nina says. “You must watch. Eyes to me. I command you.”

(We’re playing, of course. I wouldn’t miss this show for the world.)

It begins with a kind of ripple that runs through her, and then she changes. She grows taller, at least a foot taller than me. Her skin grows grey and hard, like a seal. Her face seems pinched. Her eyes grow larger and rounder, slit like a cat’s. Her fingers become long and slender, almost dripping from her hands. Her hair is stiff and spiky. Her neck grows too, not by much but enough to look obscene.

Just when I think her changes are over, two appendages burst out of her sides, waving crazily. Tentacles. She had two tentacles.

And Nina stands transformed into … something else.

(And I know from personal experience these changes are not exactly painless. Yet she hasn’t so much as blinked. Once a domme …)

She leans over me now, an alien.

“Well, my little one, do you approve of my new form?” she practically purrs.

Weirdly enough, it’s the scent that makes all the difference. She smells … wrong. Inhuman. Sickly sweet, like decaying roses.

“Oh God, mistress …” I stammer.

“So, then, do I repulse you? Do I … scare you?”

The tentacles rise up and slide slowly down my body. I have a genuine shudder at the snail trails they leave on me.

“I am horrified, my mistress,” I say, with as much of a swoon anyone in an arm binder can produce. “I am … afraid of you.”

The little smile comes and goes quickly, but it’s enough. Nina is getting off on this, big time.

She leans in even closer. “Afraid, kitten? Of me? Of your mistress? Surely not! I believe you must pay with a kiss.”

She opens her mouth.

I open mine.

And her tongue rolls out. Long, forked and black.

A genuine shriek from me there.

But too late. She moves in and the horrific tongue is in my mouth. The kiss is long and unyielding.

It is simultaneously the most erotic and most disgusting thing I’ve ever done in my life.

But only for a few seconds. Because then I look down.

Her genitals are changed too. They form a kind of beak, pale yellow in colour.

Mistress sees my look and smiles again. Her hand goes to herself.

And oh God, the thing opens like a flower.

“Shall I make you kiss it, my dear?” she whispers to me.

“Oh please, no, Mistress! I can’t … I don’t want …”

(And by now I’m not sure what’s play any more and what isn’t.)

“But I think you will,” she says no louder than a sigh.

And oh my God, I do.

And as I do the tentacles lift the weights off my nipple rings.

This is all so wrong, and yet so right.

Nina walks behind me, and uses that tongue … there. Then she removes the arm binder and the shackles, but before I can give myself relief, she tells me no. “No pleasuring. You are being punished.”

And then she says it.

“Are you really afraid of me, my dear? Of my new form?”

“Oh God, yes, Mistress.”

“Then I know the perfect punishment.”

She walks back to the wooden box and fills another syringe.

“You must become like me.”

She walks back behind me.

“You must become a monster too.”

Oh God, yes, yes, yes!

I barely feel the prick in my ass cheek. All I know is the tingle I feel as the serum enters me, began to change my body, my molecules, changes me.

The pain shoots through me, and while it’s delicious, I howl. I am nowhere near as restrained as Nina.

My view skews wildly as something happens to my eyes. I feel my mouth close over, robbing me of speech as effectively as if I’d been gagged.

And my skin … it’s darkening to almost black, and shiny, almost slick.

When the pain stops, Nina lifts my head. I’m still shorter than her.

“Well, well … you look so completely wrong, my darling. Quite the little monster, you are. Shall I fetch a mirror for you?”

I try to say no, but I have no voice. I shake my head, but she gets one anyway.

I stare at the mirror. My head is bulbous and black, my eyes two growing green orbs, my breasts almost conical.

I feel heat rise within me. Heat and … something else.

“Well.” I hear the smirk in Nina’s voice. “It appears you may not be entirely female any more, kitten.”

I reel.

“Shall we see how — or if — these two things fit together?”

Mistress takes me in her arms and leads me off to the bed.

“Lay back, darling,” she whispers. “I think you’ve learned your lesson now.”

Now? Yes. But I’m sure I’ll have forgotten it next time.

And later tonight, after we’ve changed back, I’ll be in Nina’s arms, the place where I belong, and she’ll coo over me. She’ll bathe me. She’s pleasure me with kisses. After care is important, after all.

But for now … as a guttural growl rises in her throat …

For now, the monsters have come out to play.