Supervillainess Rocking Riot was in a piss poor mood as she strode down the road. She was pretty new to the supervillain business, that much was true, but someone even newer had popped up lately - and pretty much immediately started muscling on her territory. This “Crimson Countess”, whoever she was, was getting too big for her britches, and that was why the punky villainess had decided to come in and take over.

Even if she hadn’t been angry already, the walk would have made her mad. This “Crimson Countess” was a corruptive type, like Rocking Riot herself was - but the way she expanded her territory was by making it disgustingly boring. The place was so quiet and orderly, without an ounce of graffiti or roving minions or even just tags saying who owned the joint. And there were so many ritzy rich-people houses, each surrounded by a bunch of smaller ones - these people weren’t rebelling against any sort of authority, they were clinging to it! The punk rock villainess ran a hand through her spiky neon-pink mohawk in a mix of exasperation, and rage.

There was one good thing about this place, she reflected as she stormed towards the nearest manor. It was so orderly that it would be an absolute delight to trash.

“Excuse me,” a calm, orderly voice said from ahead. Out of one of the homes strode a woman wearing a cheap dress, with her hair done up in and orderly and tight bun. “I don’t believe you live in this neighborhood, and you certainly don’t seem to be one of our Countess’ servants…” her eyes tracked up and down Rocking Riot’s body, lips pursed in disgust. Riot took a degree of pleasure in that look. Yeah, take it in, she thought - from the spiked boots, up to the threadbare ripped jeans, midriff-bearing half-jacket, and ample piercings, she was clearly someone who wanted nothing to do with polite society, and she reveled in it.  “If you wish to join us, you’ll be starting as a peasant, and not one of the Crimson Countess’… I’m sure Baroness Simona would be looking for new workers.”

Rocking Riot laughed out loud at the sheer presumption of it. “Oh god, you really think anyone would get into this by choice? And me of all people? Oh you’ll be fun to mess with…” she said, unslinging the guitar from her back.

“You seem to be under the impression that our Countess will let you do as you please in her lands. This is not the case-” The stuck up woman started to protest, but was interrupted by a single, heavy strum of the guitar.

“You seem to be under the impression that I give a shit!” Rocking Riot shouted. The woman was mostly mundane, with only a touch of corruption in her mind - she had essentially no resistance at all to whatever corrupting effects might be forced upon her. And the discordant cord shot right into her mind and bounced around, making itself at home. It was over in nearly an instant as the music ripped away her restraint, her respect for authority, and any other worthless values. Her prim bun dismantled itself as her now free-flowing blonde hair dyed itself with black and white and became wild and tangled. Her modest dress tore itself to pieces, the sleeves and shoulders ripping off entirely while the rest was torn off at the hip. The leg coverings were replaced with fishnet stockings and combat boots. The final change was a thick application of makeup and piercings in the nose, lip, and tongue - where once a stuck up old hag had been, was now a young punk ready to rock.

“That’s more like it!” Rocking Riot laughed, glancing to the other docile bystanders. She turned to her newest groupie, and grinned wickedly, tongue piercing flashing. The new punk grinned back. “Let’s get this party started, yeah?”

After a wild hour and a half of gathering punks and then storming the nearby manor, Rocking Riot was having the time of her life. The ballroom of the manor had been converted to an impromptu concert venue, and now she and a few of the stronger rockers were playing their hearts out while the crowd tore the place to pieces both figuratively and literally.

Every single person she’d turned, from the nobodies up to the ‘baroness’, had talked about how Crimson Countess would come and put her in her place. Well, nobody was coming! Of course, she’d changed their tunes, and now they were all her fellow punk rockers - not her minions, because that would imply a level of authority that Rocking Riot would rather blow her own brains out than take - don’t become the thing you hate and all.

“Now that we’re all riled up,” she called to the crowd, “What do you assholes say about rioting our way up to this so-called ‘countess’ and showing her how to have a good time!?”

There was a roar of approval from the mob, and one of the punks went and kicked open the door, eager to be at the front of the pack. Unfortunately for him, there was someone waiting for him on the other side.

It was hard to see from the stage but a white glow covered the man - one moment, he was a punk rocker like the rest. The next, a demure maid stepped aside to allow someone through the door.

The woman who strode in was the essence of class, hair done up in huge red ringlets, a beautiful dress clinging to her every curve. She was bedecked in enough jewels to pay for a house, and oozed elegance with every step of her sky-high heels… and also, intense contempt. Her drop-dead gorgeous face was marred by a fierce scowl. She was accompanied by a cadre of maids, two in front sweeping debris and people from her path, two behind making sure nobody tried anything funny.

“Hmph. Some villain thinks she can stride into my lands and take my citizens as her own?” she asked. “Pathetic. I’ll have to reevaluate Lady Simona’s position, if she can’t deal with riff raff like this on her own.”

“You can evaluate my ass!” Shouted the currently punked up Simona from her place on the impromptu stage.

“Classy.” The woman said, her imperious gaze sweeping the room and clearly not happy with what she saw. “Who’s in charge here? The glare from all your piercings is such that I can hardly make out anything.”

“That’d be me!” Rocking Riot said with a grin, “And if you’ll let this lil old peasant make a guess, you’d be the Crimson Countess everyone was jabbering about before I set ‘em crooked.” The villainess grinned - this lady didn’t seem so tough. Especially if she’d talk before she started fighting. The crowd had gone quiet, watching their leader versus their former ruler - and Rocking Riot was so focused on the Countess she didn’t notice the white flashes at the corners of the room.

“This is correct,” the fancy woman said. “Lady Clara Klaus, or the Crimson Countess, per preference. You, though, will only call me Mistress.”

The punk villainess managed, barely, to stifle her laugh at that. “How about I call you rich bitch instead? You’re not the boss of me! Nobody is!”

The Crimson Countess rolled her eyes. “Oh, your insults are very original. Do as you please for the minutes you have remaining. Soon, you’ll be put in your place.”

“You sure about that? Last I checked, you’ve got five and I’ve got two dozen. I’m sure you’ll be smarter once we remove the stick up your ass!” The light flashes were getting closer and closer, and some of the punks were starting to shout, but Rocking Riot wasn’t paying attention.

“Hmph. In addition to lacking basic etiquette, you seem to equally lack any kind of situational awareness. Why, pray tell, do you think I’ve been allowing you to blabber on?”

“Well fuck you! Guys, let’s get-” Rocking Riot began to order her posse to attack, but a shout of surprise from behind her interrupted. When she whirled around, she saw that she wasn’t backed by punks anymore, but more maids - in fact, every single one of her followers had been transformed into maids, butlers, and assorted other servants.

One of the maids curtsied. “Greetings. I am Mistress’ Head Maid. If you come quietly, I’m sure we can work something out and give you a good position in her court. I’ve already shown all of your followers back to their proper roles.”

In lieu of a response, the rocking villainess threw a punch. The Head Maid didn’t flinch, as in an instant Rocking Riot’s former allies dogpiled her. Even as strong as she was, she couldn’t fight dozens at once - she was a minion maker villain, not a straight up fighter.

The Crimson Countess strolled up to the stage, her newly reformed maids parting to allow her through the crowd. With the maids holding her limbs in place, Rocking Riot was turned to face her. “Submit.” Lady Klaus said, “And I may yet be lenient. I have given you more chances than you deserve, but even my patience is not infinite.”

The punk rock villainess spat at her feet and managed to flip her off.

“Very well then. You deserve what you get.” The Crimson Countess walked right up to the bound villainess. The maids released her as their mistress approached. Rocking Riot lunged for the Countess the second she was free - only for a stinging SLAP to ring through the room and for a knee to find her gut. When she landed on the floor, the Countess was looking down at her, brushing off her dress. “Hmph. Pitiful. Even when I give you a chance, you fail to take it, and instead just fall further under my control.”

Rocking Riot wasn’t sure what she meant - at least until she looked to the side and saw an array of iron and gold rings scattered across the floor. Reaching up to her face, she felt around - and found that the slap had somehow knocked all her piercings out, and healed the flesh where they’d been. “Bitch!” she swore, “I worked hard for those!”

“They were gaudy and didn’t do you any good. You could be quite beautiful if you tried.” the Crimson Countess said, placing a high-heeled foot on Rocking Riot. She didn’t look to be putting all that much effort in, but Riot found it felt as heavy as a boulder. “Beneath my heel is where all the disgusting villains like you belong.”

“Pah! You call me a villain? Pot, meet kettle, you’re as much a supervillain as I am! What else do you call transforming everyone into your mindless servants?”

Crimson Countess ground her heel in, knocking the breath from Rocking Riot and making the transformation proceed further - the punk’s ratty outfit was mending itself rapidly, and changing in material - leather and denim stitching itself together as it became silk and linen. “Hold your tongue, trash! I’m not like you. I am no villainess. I am as heroic as I ever was. This city is corrupt, debauched! Peasants like you no longer listen to their betters! I aim to change that, to bring it back to its former glory! And you will help, because soon, you will realize your place in society!”

The transformation sped up, and it became clear that it wasn’t going to stop - Rocking Riot’s clothing was unrecognizable, as it mixed and mingled together. By the time Crimson Countess took her foot off of the punk, her clothes had transformed completely into a form fitting black dress, that emphasized what modest figure she had - and most certainly wouldn’t fit on any sort of punk, but on a member of high society. It came complete with a heavy coat of jewelry - necklace, gold choker, gem-studded belt.

The maids hefted the dazed villainess to her knees. “Kneel for our Mistress, trash.” the Head Maid demanded. “Kiss her feet and beg forgiveness.”

Rocking Riot wouldn’t move, but the Head Maid knelt beside her and pushed her down, rubbing her face into Crimson Countess’ heeled feet. As she did, the transformation rapidly progressed. Her hair grew out, and loosened out of the mohawk style she’d had it in. The neon pink dye drained out, replaced with Riot’s natural blonde color. At the same time, more of her body changed to fit her new self - the scars and damage of an ill-spent youth faded away to leave perfectly smooth skin, while muscles built in the gym and in fights melted to leave her thin and dainty. Her bust ballooned outwards two sizes, while her bottom swelled to match. Even her face wasn’t spared, as a thick application of makeup helped bring her from merely “pretty” to “bombshell”.

Once her physical transformation completed, Rocking Riot was dragged back to her feet, face to face with the Crimson Countess. Despite her now far from punkish appearance, the fire in her eyes was still there. Clara smirked. “That’s much better. This is your final chance.”

“Stick it up your ass, you psycho.” Riot spat.

The Crimson Countess shrugged, and then went into finish the transformation - by kissing the former rocker on the lips. White light suffused her body, as the Countess got to work. Her mind blanked. Her rebellious nature fought back, it fought back hard - she would not submit, could not submit. It wasn’t in her psychological makeup. So the Crimson Countess rewrote it. There would be no need for a single part of her old personality, besides possibly one. So she broke her. The Countess’ kiss worked over Riot’s mind. She could serve. She wanted to serve. By serving, she would be loved, adored! She could have everything she ever wanted, all she had to do was submit.

It wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. Rocking Riot new she was being controlled. She wanted so desperately to fight back. But she could no more fight the Countess than she could fight gravity.

Rocking Riot submitted. And all was bliss.

----------

“A good day’s work, wouldn’t you say?”

“Of course, my lady.”

The Crimson Countess was back in her manor, having a nice dinner with some entertainment. A beautiful singer was performing for her and her staff, her body swaying to the rhythm of her own voice.

“I’ve replaced Simona… stopped an incursion into my territory… and acquired a new entertainer. What was her name, Head Maid?”

“She was Rocking Riot, Mistress.” the Head Maid said with a serene grin. This Mistress had lasted longer than any of her previous ones, and gained more power than any of the past. If she were lucky, she might be able to keep this one. She was positively ecstatic for that, although of course she wouldn’t show it.

Clara pursed her lips. “Well, that’s hardly appropriate for her now, is it?”

“Quite inappropriate, yes.” the Head Maid agreed.

“Singer, come.” Crimson Countess demanded, as the singer finished her song.

The woman obeyed, hips swaying as she strode to the Countess. She kneeled as she arrived. “I hope my song pleased you, Mistress.” she said, her voice filled with love and loyalty.

“Oh, it was positively divine,” Clara agreed, gesturing for her latest servant to rise. “I was simply wondering what your true name was.”

“My name is irrelevant, my lady.” the singer said. “I would be honored if you would replace it.”

The Countess smiled. She did love it when servants knew their place. “Very well. I think you shall be… Aria. Yes.”

Aria stood, and bowed deeply - which showed off her cleavage, to the Countess’ appreciation. “Then Aria I am. Would you like another performance? Either here, or in private…”

“Both, I think. First, an encore for the staff. Then, we may discuss further songs in my chambers.” the Countess said. The Head Maid surreptitiously gestured to some of her underlings, who darted off to prepare the Master Bedroom.

“I would be delighted and honored, Crimson Countess. I think I have a special song in mind.”

Aria returned to the other end of the room, and sang a song of obedience and bliss, of the virtues of loyalty and the greatness of her Mistress. The Crimson Countess reveled in it, as she turned her mind to plans for further conquest…