Zayn's Perfectly Ordinary Day (Eelskin & Dissonant)

 

Zayn’s Perfectly Ordinary Day (part 1)

(19,866 words)

The following is an RP log in which Eelskin played a submissive male genie and Dissonant played his dominant mistress. It contains: beauty augmentation (both male & female), teasing, excessive come, mind control, tattoos, public sexual humiliation, domination, and cruelty & sadism.

 

tap

tap

tap

tap

tap

Miles underwater, the lost city of Atlantis was quiet and peaceful. The fish, crabs and plankton that inhabited it were the only living things there, but there was, nevertheless, that tapping that came, incessantly, for millennia, from the inside of a locked chest deep in the ruins of an imperial palace.

Something was slowly digging its way out from inside.

It took many, many years, but eventually, the lid of the chest was breached, and an opening was carved - not a large one, just large enough for a ring, a gold ring with an inlaid emerald, to pass though. It was somehow not tarnished or damaged from years of being underwater, and it floated up out of the hole and toward the surface.

It broke the surface of the ocean, nowhere near land. Patiently, it continued to float up into the air until it reached a cloud, large and heavy with water. The power of the ring prevented the cloud from bursting and guided it somehow, against the wind, toward a land mass.

Where there would be people.

The ring held the rain from falling for many weeks, until it found itself above a city, with millions of people going about their daily lives below.

The ring allowed the cloud to burst, and fell, with the rain, into the city.

 

"Fuckin' rain," Zayn muttered, dragging her beat-up sneakers across the sidewalk as she walked home from detention. The cheap headphones she'd normally be wearing had gotten snatched from her gym locker earlier today, meaning that the entertainment on her trip home would consist of counting the cracks in the pavement while staring at the ground to avoid getting rain in her face. She had already made it up to 57.

History was boring today (as always), so the goth had spent the class watching the clouds roll in from the east. It was nice to look at then, but now...

With a sigh, Zayn kept walking, trying not to think about how cold she was. Her hoodie and jeans had gotten soaked almost immediately, and each step she took made a squelching noise. As if her day could get any worse than it already was.

Zayn was going on 63 when she saw something fall from the sky.

With a plop, something small and shiny fell into a puddle of mud right in front of her.

"The fuck?" she said to herself. As she got closer, she got a look at what it was. An expensive looking ring, still glinting despite being caked in mud. Quickly, she looked around to see if anyone was around. Seeing no one else, she snatched it up and pocketed it before its owner figured out it was missing.

Thoughts about how expensive the ring might be swirled in her head, quickening her pace until she made it back to her apartment complex. The goth girl prayed it'd be worth enough for her to get a new tattoo. Carefully, she opened the door, making sure that the coast was clear. As predicted, her step-dad had evidently fallen asleep on the couch after finishing a bottle of whisky.

With a sigh of relief, Zayn snuck past him and shut herself in her room, locking the door behind her. The ring was burning a hole in her pocket, and she had to see it for herself.

Now that she's alone sitting on her bed, Zayn carefully pulls the ring out and holds it between her thumb and her middle finger. The emerald seems to glow, even underneath the filth that still sticks to it. The eighteen year-old marvels at how antique and imperial it looks, like something a king might have worn in ancient times. Weirder still, the smell of sea breeze fills her nostrils as she looks it over.

Gently, Zayn starts to wipe off the mud, rubbing it against the bottom corner of her bedsheet. The grime comes off quickly, as though the ring is helping to push it off. Soon, it looks as good as new. Zayn shivers with excitement over her find, noticing that she can see herself in the reflection of the pristine emerald. This thing has to be worth a lot of money, right?

With a smirk, she gingerly places the ring on her right pointer finger, feeling a weird sensation come across her as the ring slides down her digit and settles into place above her knuckle.

"Hello, Mistress," comes a voice from right behind her.

She turns and sees the genie: hovering in the air, about 6 inches tall, a bald, muscular, naked man, whose skin is bright green at first, though it shimmers and changes colour as the light hits it and as he moves. He has a pair of brightly coloured gossamer wings with a span of two feet that beat too quickly for the eye to follow, like a dragonfly. He flies much like a dragonfly does as well, very quickly and precisely. For the moment, he simply hovers in the air in front of Zayn.

He looks at her, and around them at her bedroom. He flies over to her shelves and inspects the books and electronics, up to the ceiling to get a close look at the hanging lamp, and under her bed. He returns to the center of the room and looks at her nervously.

"Where is everyone? Have I been awakened before the ceremony?" His voice, a rich baritone, is louder than it should be for a being as small as he is; it seems to Zayn almost that it's coming from inside her head. He takes another long look at her. "You do not appear to be an empress. How... how long have I slept?"

Zayn stares, blinking, at the small green pixie-man. Her eyes follow his movements as he flutters gracefully from place to place.

"What... are you the ring?" Zayn says curiously, reaching out and attempting to poke the small figure. She ignores his questions for now.

He seems very uncomfortable at that question, and deftly avoids her finger as she reaches to poke him.

"The ring is my home. Were you... not expecting me? Did you not know the ring's nature before you acquired it?"

She gives him a sideways look. "Does it look like I know what's going on here? I found this ring falling out of the sky and I took it home and put it on. Now you're flying around my room and asking me a bunch of questions. What the fuck are you, anyways?" she asks, her voice dour and impatient.

He straightens up, proudly. "I am a djinn. I have been a servant for many centuries to the emperor or the empress, bequeathed to each successive generation. Although now, it seems that..." he pauses, "that line has ended."

"Nevertheless, even if you are not an empress, you are wearing the ring. So it seems that you are my new mistress."

Almost cutting him off, Zayn blurts out, "I wish for infinite wishes."

He stares at her for a moment. "Mistress... your wishes were not limited to begin with."

She blinks again. "Oh. Good." She gets up onto her feet and eyes him up, like a hungry predator might eye their meal.

"So this is what genies look like, huh? You look a lot different than I imagined." The goth extends a hand out and motions for him to land in it.

He pauses, observes her hand for just a moment, then moves forward and lands. His wings fold behind him as he does.

"This is my traditional appearance at the ceremony where I am... where I was given to the next in line. I can appear differently, if you like. Most of my previous masters did, in fact, design a new appearance for me."

Her dark lips curl into a smile. "Good, let's start with making you bigger so I can see you better. Normal person sized." She pauses. "Actually, make yourself a bit taller." She gives him an expectant look.

"Wait, do I have to say 'I wish' every time?" she asks with an eye roll.

He shakes his head. "No. However... there is a particularity in how you must speak to me." He pauses, trying to think of how to say something, as though he's never had to explain this to anyone before.

"The power is not mine to do with as I please. I am... a conduit. I can't simply use the power when and how I like; it needs to be authorised. By... the person who wears that ring. Asking me if I'm able to do something is not an authorization. If you want me to do something for you, you must frame it as an imperative. That is... you cannot ask me to do something, or tell me that you would like something. You must tell me to do it. You did, in fact, do this when you said 'make yourself a bit taller.'"

He extends his wings and flies down to the ground, and before he's landed, he's already started growing. It makes no noise when he grows; it seems almost like an optical illusion. In about ten seconds, he's seven feet tall, standing in front of her, looking down at her.

Her smile becomes a grin as she watches the figure expand in front of her. "So you need me to order you around, huh? I can work with that."

Biting her bottom lip, she ogles the naked genie that now towers over her by a good foot and a half. Now that he's bigger than palm-sized, she's able to see him more clearly.

He's muscular, not like a bodybuilder but more like a dancer, and his movements are elegant and precise. His skin shifts from colour to colour, mostly in the blue-green range but sometimes becoming for a moment orange or purple. He is hairless, except for a pointed goatee on his chin, and his flaccid dick hangs between his legs, six inches long.

Stepping in close, she places a hand on his broad chest, tracing her fingers over it. "I'm your mistress now, because I'm wearing this ring right?"

She looks up at the bald djinn, her piercing gaze meeting his eyes. Her other hand grabs a handful of his ass, giving it a good squeeze.

"You are." He stands, impassive. "You need but speak what you would have me do, and it will be done. However, I must tell you that I cannot copulate with you." He pauses, then: "You would not survive."

She snorts. "Oh, is that right? What if I ask you to make it so that I could survive?" As she says that, her right hand drifts from his chest down to his flaccid dick, cupping the balls in her hand and weighing them as one might weigh produce.

"The only being able to withstand such an experience is another djinn. And if you were to become another djinn... you would no longer be my mistress."

She steps back, frowning. "So what are the limits to your power? I want to know up front, so we don't run into any problems later."

"I cannot grant you control over my power. It would be... unsafe. Apart from that, I can do anything you wish."

"So I couldn't, let's say, have you make it so that humans and djinns could fuck?" she asks pointedly, looking down at her fingernails.

He pauses before answering. When he speaks, he seems almost embarrassed not to be able to do what Zayn wants.

"I cannot change my own nature. I can change myself in... superficial ways. But I cannot do that for the same reason that I cannot sever my tie to the ring."

A knocking comes from the bedroom door, and Zayn's stepfather's voice comes through the wood. "Emily! Who are you talking to? Do you have someone in there? Unlock this door!"

She sighs, swearing under her breath. "Genie, make it so that no one else besides me notices you, and that no one else notices when we speak. Oh, and make him go back to sleep on the couch until I leave my room."

"I haven't decided what to do with him yet," she adds with annoyance, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Yes, Mistress."

Abruptly, the pounding stops, and his footsteps sound down the hall, back to the living room. Within seconds, he starts snoring.

"Anyways, so whatever, you can't fuck humans. What a stupid rule. Well, maybe not as dumb as that Disney bullshit," Zayn says, no longer caring about her volume. "'Kay, since you won't need to worry about using that thing anyways, why don't we make you a bit nicer to look at? Genie, make your dick bigger," she says, pointing down at the blueish green phallus hanging between his muscular thighs. "And give yourself some nice, long hair while you're at it."

He nods. "Of course."

At his words, his dick starts to swell and lengthen, inching down closer and closer to his knees. He closes his eyes and inhales, and a crop of jet-black hair sprouts from the top of his head, thick and shining. As it grows it falls down past his shoulders and stops when it reaches the middle of his back. His cock stops growing at a length of ten inches, and his balls are as large as a pair of kiwi fruit.

"Is this to your liking, Mistress?"

Another look of appraisal. "For now, that'll do. You're worthy of being my servant."

Zayn walks past him, casually tracing her fingers across the genie's smooth skin as she moves. She steps in front of a wall covered in death metal posters next to her small bed. "Genie, make this wall into a mirror."

At the faint praise, a small smile crosses the genie's face for a moment, and his skin, dark blue, shifts to a slightly lighter shade. 

"Yes, Mistress."

The surface of the wall seems to melt and ripple, and the posters are absorbed into the paint. The paint then seems to fade away, and the wall, from floor to ceiling, is a perfectly flat mirror.

A smile comes back across Zayn's face as she watches this happen. "Good job. Hmm, you got a name or something?"

"My name is" - and he recites a long, musical string of syllables that takes about ten seconds to say. After a moment, he adds, "It translates roughly into 'music-language of the babbling brook that flows once a century from atop the mountain when the snows melt.'"

She shakes her head. "Yeah, yeah, that's not gonna work. Your new name is... hmm. Let's see. Asmodeus, your new name is Asmodeus. Make it so." She snaps her fingers.

He bows his head. "I am honoured to have been given a name."

"Good, and make it so that it's your favorite name yet. Because I'll be taking it away if you displease me, Asmodeus." She turns back to the mirror and starts to strip off her wet clothing, indifferent to the genie's presence in her room.

Asmodeus raises his head. "I should not like that, Mistress. I will strive to please you in whatever way you command."

"I hope that you do," Zayn says, pulling her hoodie over her head, followed by a damp T-shirt that she had gotten at a metal show. Beneath a messy mop of black hair, her slender, pale frame is exposed to Asmodeus. The tiny bee-stings on her chest stand at attention, each one pierced by a silver stud.

She then unbuckles her belt, slowly peeling off the tight, soaked jeans that cling to her legs. As she stands there struggling, she shakes her head. "Why the hell am I doing this myself? Asmodeus, take off the rest of my clothes for me."

"By your command, Mistress."

Asmodeus thinks for a moment, and then steps forward. He crouches down and reaches his hands forward, taking the wet jeans in between his fingers, and tugs them down gently. Zayn suddenly finds herself floating in the air, her feet hovering just a couple of inches off the ground, which is enough to allow Asmodeus to pull her jeans over her feet, followed by her socks and underwear. He pulls them off effortlessly, the wetness providing no resistance.

When he slips his hands under the elastic of her underwear, Zayn feels a tingling, almost like a mild electric current, where he touches her skin, on her hips and ass, highly unfamiliar but pleasant. His touch is not lascivious in the least, but he moves slowly, as though to prolong the task by just a few seconds.

A look of satisfaction crosses her face as Zayn allows her servant to disrobe her, leaning into the powerful being's strong hands. She bites her lip as his hands roam across her skin, letting out a small gasp as his fingers perform their work.

When she's naked, he stands up, and steps back to where he had been before, while gravity pulls Zayn's bare feet down gently to the floor.

After the rest of her clothing comes off and she is let back down onto the ground, Zayn twirls in front of the mirror, looking intently at each part of her pale skin. Her lower body matches the top half, thin and girly. A trim patch of dark hair covers her vulva, the only unshaven part of her body. A pentagram tattoo stretches across the inner thigh of her right leg.

She spins around, looking her servant in the eyes. "So, tell me. Am I attractive to you?" she inquires, putting her hands on her hips.

Asmodeus stares back at her. "My attraction to you, Mistress, is powerful enough that it would destroy me if I were to defy it. By your nature, you could not comprehend it."

She sighs. "No, dumbass, like sexual attraction. Like you were a human and not my slave, would you find me sexy?" She repeats, running a hand through her hair.

He straightens up, bristling slightly at the insult. His skin darkens to a deep purple. "My answer stands. They are one and the same. When you commanded me to remove your clothes, it was..."

He shakes his head.

"It is unbecoming for me to speak of this. It is not my place."

Zayn narrows her eyes. "As your mistress, you will not lie or withhold knowledge from me. Finish your thought."

Asmodeus widens his eyes and drops to his knees. "I apologise for my outburst, Mistress. My place is, of course, to do what you say without reservation.

"There are not many things that are difficult for me to do. But when you asked me to remove your clothes, it was difficult for me to restrain myself. There are not many things that I want, but... I wanted you. I want you now. And it is for your well-being that I control myself."

The goth mistress raises an eyebrow, a look of perverse intrigue on her face. Then she starts to laugh.

"Oh, Asmodeus! It's a shame that you'll never be able to fuck me, isn't it?" Zayn says, a catlike glint in her eyes as she moves close to the genuflected djinn.

As she stands close to him, she lowers herself to his level. "You'll never be able to use this lovely, thick cock to pleasure your mistress," she says, hefting the ten-inch flaccid tool in one hand, marvelling at its perfection. Her voice lowers to a growl as she leans in close to his ear. "Because of what you are, you'll never learn what it's like to stick it inside your mistress, feel it unleash your genie-seed into my pussy."

Zayn leans in close, close enough that Asmodeus feels her hot breath on his face. She runs her tongue across her black lips.

Asmodeus breathes deeply, slowly, his eyes closed. His skin slowly brightens from deep purple to maroon, to dark red, becoming brighter and brighter the more Zayn taunts him. The air around his body starts to shimmer slightly, as though from heat, but his skin is no hotter than it was.

He says nothing.

Zayn leans in further, as if to kiss him, but puts a finger between their lips, pulling away. "Genie, make it so you cannot touch me without my express permission," she says with a smirk.

"Yes, mistress," he replies, almost in a whisper.

He takes several more deep breaths, and his skin starts to fade to a dull reddish-brown. Then, after a moment, he continues: "Please forgive my impertinence, Mistress. However... I must ask... whether I am being punished."

She grins. "You will know for sure when you are being punished, Asmodeus. I'm just establishing our working relationship, is all. Genie, make it so that my touch grants you considerable pleasure. And make it so that you feel half of that pleasure when you touch me."

Asmodeus' eyes open as he tries to imagine what might possibly be a more obvious punishment than this.

His gaze passes over her naked body, directly in front of him, a promise of such pleasure, but utterly forbidden. "It is done, mistress."

As the words leave his mouth, Zayn approaches Asmodeus again. The massive djinn, even while kneeling, still comes up to above her shoulders. Placing a hand on his chin, she tilts it up towards her face, using her other hand to run through his long, silky locks.

"And now, a taste of what's in store if you please me," she says, before moving in and planting a kiss on the djinn's lips.

Asmodeus gasps at the touch of her hand. Her fingers on his chin causes the most incredible sensation of relief, as cool water on burning skin. His penis, despite the efforts he had been exerting up until this moment, twitches and starts to swell, lengthening from 10 inches to 11, then 12, then 13.

When she runs her hand through his hair, he cries out in what seems almost like agony. Her fingers soothe a desperate, awful itch he had not even known was there, and his skin brightens rapidly to the color of midday sky. His testicles churn in anticipation as his cock becomes thicker, veins becoming more pronounced, and it is now sticking straight out. 14, 15, 16 inches. 

Unable to speak, barely able to comprehend, he stares at her lips as she speaks to him, and it's not until her lips are already touching his that he understands what is happening.

His skin pales to white, and Zayn feels the air around her crackle with energy. Her hair begins to stand on end and her lips burn.

Asmodeus roars, an otherworldly, awesome sound that cracks the mirror-wall next to them. His cock, 21 inches long, glows fiercely and Asmodeus throws himself backwards so that he's lying on his back. An eruption of liquid bursts out of his dick with the intensity of a fire hydrant, smashing through the ceiling and covering the mirror. Plaster and splinters fall down upon him, but he doesn't notice. He screams until his lungs are empty and collapses on the floor, the rain falling gently through the hole in the ceiling on his prostrate body.

As this happens, Zayn jumps back. She ducks behind her bed, awestruck at the destruction her kiss had caused. When she determines she's at a safe distance, her fingers creep down and plunge into her vagina, and she begins working them in and out while her genie destroys her room with his orgasm. "Holy fuck," she whispers, watching his virile cum rocket through the ceiling with enough speed to cause a loud boom with each rope.

She looks back down to Asmodeus, breathing heavily (did genies need to breathe?) and limp on her bedroom floor, covered in debris and his own seed. The otherworldly cum seemed to shift in color like his skin, although much faster and less gradual. She runs her tongue across her singed lips, chapped from the heated kiss.

Zayn inhales, taking in the smell and finds the pungent odor seems to shift too. At one moment it reminds her of a batch of freshly baked cookies, at another moment it makes her legs quiver from how masculine and musky the scent is. Then it starts to smell like the embers from a roaring bonfire.

The temptation to take some on a fingertip to taste is strong, but Zayn knows better than to do it now. Especially hearing the loud scrambling that was happening in the neighboring apartments. It seems like the only person that isn't concerned is her idiot step-dad, still asleep on the couch due to her command.

"Well, that was... impressive. Asmodeus, isn't there something that you should be saying to me now?" She purrs, gently rubbing her foot against his thigh for a moment.

Asmodeus twitches at the touch of her foot and jerks his leg away reflexively, the sensation too strong so soon after his orgasm.

"Th- thank you..." he manages, weakly, to say. "I am... undeserving... of such a..."

His eyes snap open and he floats up off the floor and turns in mid-air. In a moment he is on his feet. His dick is starting to soften, but it is still pointing straight ahead, bobbing back and forth with his movements, and dripping magical come onto the floor. He pays no attention, but instead examines Zayn frantically. "Mistress, are you all right? Did any of it touch you?"

Zayn eyes the bobbing genie-cock and feels another impulse to give it a lick. She resists.

"Somehow, no. I think we-" A pounding on the door to the apartment interrupts her thought.

She sighs. "Asmodeus, clean up the mess you made. Oh, and make everyone else forget about the destruction you just caused."

Still disoriented, Asmodeus blinks several times and shakes his head. His body starts to darken to a cool turquoise. 

"Right away, Mistress."

The come covering the wall and floor has already started to curl up and evaporate into smoke; he observes this with some displeasure and mutters something unintelligible. He turns toward the ruined ceiling and floor covered in dust, wood, plaster and puddles of sticky, shimmering, evaporating magic come, and with a glance, the hole in the ceiling patches itself, bits of debris flying off the ground to fill the gap and fuse with each other. The puddles stop evaporating and float up into the air, gathering together in a large, hovering drop; he steps forward and holds it in his hands, and brings his hands together slowly, shrinking the liquid smaller and smaller until he clasps his hands together, and it's gone.

The pounding on the front door continues.

Asmodeus looks at Zayn. "I... made her forget. I do not know why she is still knocking."

Zayn groans. "Tell me who, and why she's here. And fix my mirror, you brute." She goes and sits on her bed now that it isn't covered in semen.

He continues to face Zayn, and behind him, the pieces of the mirror connect as though they were pools of liquid whose surface tension had been broken.

Asmodeus gets a look of embarrassment on his face. "It is the woman who lives in the room on the other side of that wall," as he points to the mirror. "She started knocking because of the disruption, and she continues to knock because... she acts without thinking. If you were to ask her now why she is knocking, she would not be able to tell you. I can make her leave, if you command me to."

"Oh, it's her," Zayn almost spits. Janet, their next-door neighbor, loved to stick her nose into everyone else's business. Like when she called the cops on Zayn and her friends for drinking while her mom and step-dad were out of town. Or when she constantly complains to her mom about how her and her friends worship the devil.

"Yeah, genie, make her go away. Make her leave the building and start walking. And make sure she doesn't stop walking until she can't walk anymore. And then she can start crawling. She could use the exercise, anyway. Fuckin' bitch." She waves her hand at Asmodeus dismissively, annoyance clearly written across her face. "Make it so."

"As you command, Mistress."

The knocking abruptly stops. The only sounds are the traffic from downstairs and the snoring from the living room.

"Good, now we can address what you did during your little orgasm, Asmodeus." Zayn turns to face her genie with a look of contempt. "You're a fuckin' terrible kisser. You burned my lips! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Asmodeus stares at her in surprise. He then bows his head and closes his eyes. "Please forgive me, Mistress. My magic becomes... difficult to contain when I am... in such a state. If you would allow me to heal you...?"

Zayn swings her feet off the side of the bed. "Do it. And we're going to make sure that this doesn't happen again. As an immortal genie, you're much more durable than I am. So it's only fair that you use your endurance to protect me from harm, isn't it?"

Sliding over to her nightstand, she grabs a pocket-knife from the top drawer. "Genie, from now on, you will make it so that if anything were to inflict pain or harm to me, it will be dealt to you instead." She twirls the blade between her fingers, waiting for a response from her servant.

"Of course, Mistress."

He focuses on her lips, and the chapped and burned skin is cooled and soothed. The pain lingers for a moment, but fades quickly.

"And the other command is done, as well. You will be utterly protected from any harm to your body. I will accept it."

With a smile, Zayn runs the knife along her palm and braces for a cut.

The knife passes through her skin as it normally would, but there's no pain; only a gentle tingling sensation, much like what she feels when she & Asmodeus touch. The more she feels the effects of magic on her, the more distinct and recognisable the feeling becomes.

As she draws the blade across her palm, the skin heals immediately behind it, as though she were cutting water.

Asmodeus holds out his palm for her to see, and a cut appears on his skin, lengthening as Zayn continues cutting her own hand. He doesn't flinch; he just watches with satisfaction as he accepts the damage Zayn inflicts on herself.

"Hmm. Good boy." She twirls the blade again and puts it back onto her nightstand. "While we're at it, I'm going to make a few safety precautions. I only just started to play with you, and I don't want anything to ruin the fun for us, hmm?"

Getting to her feet, she holds the ring out in front of her. "Asmodeus, make it so that this ring cannot be removed from my finger unless I want it to come off. Prevent anything from altering my mind against my will. And I command you to prevent anything from stopping me from giving you commands."

She pauses, thinking to herself for a second. "And one more thing. If anything exceedingly bad were to happen to me, or if something would cause me to no longer be your mistress, I command you to take both of us back to this moment in time with our memories intact. Got all that?"

"Yes. Just a moment - that last task is a complex one."

He concentrates, closing his eyes and murmuring to himself. After about half a minute, he opens them and looks her in the eyes. "It is done."

She claps her hands together. "Perfect. Understand this, Asmodeus. From the moment I put this ring on, you became mine forever. If that thought doesn't excite you, make it so that it does." She turns back towards the mirror, ruffling her messy black hair and examining herself once again.

He blinks and smiles. "There is no task for me to perform, Mistress. It is already so."

The goth mistress smiles with satisfaction. "How sweet. Now, let's get back to the point I was trying to make earlier. So you want to fuck me, and that's cool, but what I'm looking for here is some input."

Turning back around, she walks towards the genie, standing close enough that he can examine her too. "This body," she says, gesturing to herself, "is unfit for a person of my importance and status. I am the mistress of an all-powerful genie, and I should look more like it. Or, at least, less small and unimpressive."

She spins on the spot for him, watching his eyes follow her body. "So, my pet, give me your input on what I should change about myself. Good answers will be rewarded, poor answers will be punished." She stops turning, her lips curling up a bit as she waits for his response.

Asmodeus observes Zayn and looks her in the eye, then looks away, clearly still uncomfortable at being ordered to disregard his sense of propriety. Soon, though, he turns back and points at her body.

"If you wish to be 'less small,' that is very easy. I can make you taller. I can make you muscular. I can enlarge your breasts and hips. I would do all of these things. Of course, you have no need for any of them - you should never have to lift anything ever again, if you do not wish it - but I understand that you might enjoy being able to exercise strength yourself, even if it is not necessary.

"However, if you wish to appear truly impressive - if you wish to convey the magnitude of your superiority over the rest of the people around you - you should give yourself... horns, or wings, or... a third eye. Something unique. I think..." he pauses for a moment. "for you... a penis. A large one. Larger than any man's." he grins. "I think you would enjoy having one.

"Also, there is one more thing I would change. That," he points at the pentagram tattoo on her thigh, "should be erased. That is the mark of a slave. It is unbecoming of you to brand yourself with the symbol of any other being; it places them above you and grants them power over you. Even if you do not heed any of my other thoughts, Mistress, please allow me to remove that."

As Asmodeus continues to speak, Zayn's smile widens. Her hands drift downwards once again and she absentmindedly pleasures herself while considering her servant's suggestions.

"Hmm, very good genie! Well done. Very tempting suggestions, but I think I will start with some more mundane changes. I don't want to flex my superiority over everyone too quickly, now. I prefer to take things slowly."

She pauses, adopting a feigned look of shock. "But really, Asmodeus? A penis? Don't you know ladies like me aren't supposed to have those?" she said, letting out a delighted giggle. She imagined herself with a penis the size of Asmodeus', and what that must feel like.

"Not supposed to have one?" he smirks. "Mistress, that is the point. You are no longer constrained by what you are supposed to do or have."

Zayn sighs, shaking her head. "I know that, dumbass. That was sarcasm, I thought it was hot. Gods, you're thick sometimes." She pushes that thought away for now. "Fine, you can remove the tattoo. It was a pretty cheap job, and you'll be giving me better ones soon, anyway. Then, once that's done, make me taller."

He crouches down and rubs his palms against each other, and as he does, the ink is wiped away from under Zayn's skin. In a moment, there is no sign of the tattoo ever having been there.

He straightens up, and towers over her once again, so that she's looking directly into his firm, muscled chest. That lasts only a moment, however, as her perspective changes and her eyes are soon at the level of his shoulders, then his chin, then his nose. The room seems to shrink around her and, in a moment, they are looking at each other, eye-to-eye.

She feels the skin on her thigh start to tingle, and without looking she knows that the ink disappeared. Then a familiar sensation, like she just stood up out of bed to stretch. Except it keeps going, and going, and going...

As her growth finishes and her eyes settle on Asmodeus's shifting irises, she looks down at her body. Where she was skinny before, her body is gangly and alien to her now at seven feet tall.

The lanky goth turns to examine herself in the mirror, confirming her suspicions. She stifles a laugh at her current state. "Okay, good height, but now let's fill this body out so it doesn't look like I'll snap in half. Genie, make me voluptuous."

"With pleasure, Mistress."

It is first obvious in her thighs; they become thicker, plumper, more solid. Before they've finished, though, the expansion spreads to her hips, which stretch and widen in a way that feels startlingly unfamiliar, but warm and comfortable. Her ribs instantly become invisible, hidden behind a layer of warm, soft flesh, and her breasts start to swell, becoming rounder, fuller, more sensitive. Her areola spread outward until they are as big as the palm of her hand and her nipples harden and lengthen to almost an inch long, carrying their piercings with them away from her body.

The process works slowly, and throughout, Zayn feels that tingling, which is becoming more and more familiar to her with each occasion. This time, it is connected to a sharp spike in arousal; the transformation of her body floods her brain with endorphins and hormones that feel... good.

Asmodeus stares for a moment with pride, admiring what he's done, but also clearly with desire. He looks up expectantly at her face, anticipating her next command.

"Holy fuck~" is all that Zayn can say as she falls back onto her bed, hands frantically rubbing all over her body. The feelings that her breasts - no, her huge tits - made became overpowering.

Eventually, her ringed hand reaches a nipple, twisting it while her other furiously works her dripping pussy. As she teases her pierced nipple, sticking out as much as the tip of her finger, a sensation like a bolt of electricity makes its way to her head.

With a lustful groan, Zayn makes it over the edge. Her thighs begin to quiver and her groans become cries of ecstasy as her orgasm racks her body with pleasure. It lasts a good forty seconds before she calms down, panting and sighing with relief.

Asmodeus smirks, enjoying the display of sexaulity before him. His mistress' body, nearly unrecognisable as hers, with thighs that measure 28 inches around, 45-inch hips, and breasts that would fill an E-cup bra, - all scaled up to fit a 7-foot frame - was clearly in good working order. He smiled with contentment at a job well done.

"I think you will find that your new body will require a period of adjustment... but will also be a much more pleasant one to have," he commented, as she lay on the bed, panting. He waited patiently for her to recover from her orgasm.

"Fuck. Yeah, I can get used to this," Zayn says, trying to sit up in her bed. The heavy weights on her chest do not allow for this, however, as she fails to navigate the challenges that this new body possesses.

"Shit, these things are heavy. Genie, make my breasts feel weightless to me. And only me." She says between breaths, swinging her long, statuesque legs off the bed again.

"Immediately, Mistress."

As he speaks the words, Zayn suddenly finds the new weight of her breasts gone, and nearly throws herself off the bed as the resistance to her pushing herself up disappears.

Catching herself in the mirror, Zayn's eyes are drawn to the jiggling teardrops attached to her chest. Experimentally, she turns her chest from side to side and marvels at how they bounce without causing her any pain.

Taking a few steps back, she takes in the full extent of her changes for the first time. The teenaged amazon chews on her bottom lip at the sight of her new body: the same face that she was used to above a figure and stature that seemed unattainable by any natural means. Hefting a bare breast in one hand, she watches the Zayn in the mirror do the same.

She never wanted to fuck someone as badly as the reflection of her body in the mirror. Maybe... No, another thought she'd save for later, she decides after a moment of consideration.

"Okay, now we're talking. Now for the finishing touches. Asmodeus, give me piercing red eyes," the genie's mistress commands.

"Yes, Mistress."

She blinks, and is startled at the sudden change in the mirror. The simple change in colour affects her entire face, and the intensity of her gaze is now intimidating, even (almost) to herself.

She purrs with contentment. "Yes~, that's fuckin' good. Okay, now for the real test: Asmodeus, bestow my new body with tattoos befitting my new form. Make them match my aesthetic and emphasize my dominance and sexuality." She pauses. "And hope that you don't disappoint me with your work."

Asmodeus thinks for a long moment about what his mistress would like, and, after standing in silence for a time, begins his work. He stands behind her, waving his hand, moving his fingers in detailed, subtle, intricate ways, and when he's finished, he drops his hands to his sides.

"Mistress. If you will command me, I will project the image of your back into the mirror, so you can see it well."

She cocks her head to the side, watching Asmodeus through the mirror. "No, I have a better idea. Asmodeus, grant me vision through your eyes until I tell you to stop."

"Yes, Mistress."

On her back, a huge image of a giant demonic beast-like woman: with scales and horns protruding from her forehead, with two sets of arms, hands closed into fists, with large breasts and an enormous, erect cock, howling at the moon. In one hand, she holds a handful of chains. The chains flow over the rest of her body; two to each arm, one up to her neck, some over her shoulders, several more down to her ass and legs. At the other end of each chain is a human with an iron collar fastened around their neck, and they are kneeling, wailing, worshipping, fucking, pleading. When Zayn looks closely, she recognises the faces of some of the humans: her stepfather; her teachers; people who have hurt her, embarrassed her, held her down.

She looks back at the demon and, upon closer inspection, she also looks familiar. The curve of her lips, the piercing red eyes... she remembers seeing her own eyes in the mirror and recognises them in the image on her back.

"Mmm, how beautiful," she admires, her actual eyes glazed over as she begins to look through the eyes of her servant. "Is that how you see me, Asmodeus?" Her eyes trace the chains to each person, feeling empowered from seeing their helplessness portrayed so absolutely.

"Because eventually, this image will pale in comparison to my actual perfection. But for now, it's a good goal to work towards, I suppose. That's enough now," she says, seeing herself wave her hand at Asmodeus.

After her normal vision returns, she turns to him, regarding her servant with her powerful stare. "I promised a reward, didn't I? For exceptional work, let's see... Grow an impressive pair of horns, like in the tattoo you gave me. And replace those cute fairy wings of yours with a pair of large, powerful, leathery bat wings. When I introduce you to my friends, I need to make sure you look the part, hmm?" As she speaks, she twists her hips in the mirror, admiring her own curvaceousness.

"As you command, Mistress."

Two white points of bone sprout from his forehead and push outward. As they become longer, they become ridged and bumpy along their length. They climb slowly higher into the air, then curve backwards above his head and curl out like a pair of ram's horns. He shakes his head experimentally, testing the weight of them.

At the same time, he unfolds his wings so that they extend from one corner of the room to the other. A series of long, thin bones forms along the length of them, like eight-foot-long fingers, and the gossamer darkens and thickens until it forms a black membrane that covers his new bones completely, the shape of the membrane changing to form a series of points along the bottom. He flaps them once, creating a heavy gust of wind that whips Zayn's hair around her face, and smiles with satisfaction, then folds them back behind his body, the points extending up to the ceiling.

Zayn watches the transformation unfold with her full attention, filled with satisfaction at the sight of her genie servant taking on demonic traits. Eventually she would do the same, but she could wait.

She struts close to Asmodeus, rolling her wide hips with each step until she was inches away. Licking her lips, she takes two fingers and brings them up to his horns, tracing along the inside until they reach his forehead, where she gently drags her fingers down his cheek. "Do you like your gifts, my pet?" the tall mistress asks, leaning forward to speak into his right ear. She makes her voice breathy and sultry, trying to elicit a response from the genie.

Asmodeus shudders with pleasure at her touch as she drags her fingers along his new horns, and gasps sharply when she touches his cheek. He exhales, and his hands clench into fists, then relax.

"I do, Mistress," he breathes. "They bring me... closer to you. And that is all I could want. Thank you for... shaping me."

Smirking, she moves past him. "Keep pleasing me and there will be more in store for you. But for now, I think I'm ready to deal with Chris. Come on, Asmodeus, let's get going."

 

Still nude, Zayn unlocks her bedroom door and opens it, happy to find that her head is level with the door-frame and that she actually has to duck under it to leave. She walks out to the messy living room where an overweight man on the couch begins to stir from his sleep. Empty pizza boxes, takeout containers, and bottles of beer and whisky cover the coffee table and sides of the couch on either side of him.

The man, her step-father Chris, was laid off from the factory job he had last year and hasn't gotten a job since. Instead, he passes time by watching TV, day-drinking, gambling away her mom's money, and being an abusive, controlling dick to Zayn and her brother. Mostly herself, though. All while her mom supports his pathetic lifestyle and allows him to do whatever he wants.

Zayn stands in front of the waking couch-potato with her arms folded under her new breasts, a vicious look painted onto her face. "Time to wake up, you fucking bastard," she growls at him, glaring at him with her scarlet eyes.

Asmodeus observes the man. Physically, he’s unimpressive: strong enough to hurt someone if he becomes violent, but damaged through years of self-neglect and poisoning himself with drugs, made obvious by the empty and mostly-empty bottles of alcohol on the table next to him.

He stands silently, next to Zayn, waiting for Chris to wake. He knows that the man is, at this moment, completely incapable of harming his Mistress, and so doesn’t bother to prepare to restrain him.

Chris grimaces and stretches, and slowly opens his eyes,  but even then, he seems not to be able to see anything. After several seconds, his eyes start to sharpen, and come to focus on Zayn's legs. He frowns, and his eyes travel slowly up the length of her naked body, pausing for a few seconds at her crotch, and then again at her breasts. When he finally looks at her face, he stares for several seconds more, seeing but not comprehending. "The fuck..." he mutters. His eyes widen, not recognizing the amazon who stands before him. After a delay of several more seconds, he shouts suddenly and scrambles up onto his feet, stumbling backwards, knocking his bottle, spilling the remaining contents onto the floor.

"Jesus god what the fuck!" Chris slurred. He grabs an empty bottle of beer and, backing into the corner of the room, holds it like a weapon, ready to throw it. He stares at Zayn, and a look of recognition and utter confusion comes into his eyes. His mouth drops open. "Emily?"

Zayn scowls at the mention of her birth-name. "I'm surprised you're still sober enough to recognize me. I almost expected you to try to throw yourself on top of me like you usually do when you're piss-drunk. And for the last fucking time, that's not my fucking name!" Zayn shouts, stomping on the ground and causing the table to shake.

Chris puts his hand on the wall to steady himself, and shakes his head to try to clear it. But when he looks back, she’s still there, still seven feet tall, naked, and furious.

"What... is this some kinda sick fuckin'..." he tries to make sense of the sight before him, but his mind comes up blank. "What happened to you? You're some kinda freak... even more than before! The hell do you think you're... put some fuckin' clothes on!" His face gets red, and his voice trembles.

Looking briefly behind her to ensure that Asmodeus is still with her, Zayn looks back at the flustered Chris with a smirk. "Asmodeus, my pet, make it so that whenever he touches my perfection, it makes him feel excruciating pain," Zayn commands, knowing that Chris is unable to hear her or see her genie.

A shiver runs down Asmodeus' back at being called "my pet." He looks over at the drunken man in the corner, then back at Zayn.

"As you wish, Mistress. It is done."

After waiting for the verbal confirmation from her genie, Zayn steps forwards towards her drunk step-dad. Her expression shifts from anger to confusion as she moves. "What's wrong, Chris, don't you like my body? It's gotten so big, but I thought that was how you liked your women?" the towering goth teased, acting as innocent as she could.

As she gets closer, swinging her hips hypnotically, she runs her hands along the pale teardrops hanging heavily on her chest. "Don't you like them? My big, sexy tits, or my thick, luscious ass? You normally love to caress my body, what happened?" she says, her sultry voice beginning to feign worry.

Chris stares in confusion and suspicion. Through his drunken fog, he has trouble interpreting her taunting, and doesn't know how to react.

"Look, I- I don't- what are you getting at?" he stammers. His eyes are fixed on her massive tits, coming closer and closer to him. His dick starts to twitch and swell, which he doesn't even notice, but is obvious through his sweatpants. When Zayn is almost in front of him, he raises his hand reflexively, without thinking, to touch them.

Zayn bends over slightly, to account for her almost twelve inch height advantage, and thrusts her chest towards the sweating slob she has pinned in the corner. She puts her arms behind her head and bites her lip. "Go on, daddy, feel them," she coos.

Chris' hand reaches out and cups the underside of Zayn's breast. Immediately his eyes go wide and he screams, a loud, high-pitched whine, as a jolt of unbearable pain shoots up his arm and into his chest, as though his skin were being burned and his bones were being broken at the same time.

His reflexes being dulled by his intoxication, his touch lingers on her breast for several seconds, each one more agonizing than the last, as the intensity of his pain builds the longer he touches her. Finally, he withdraws his hand, and in an unthinking fit of anger, he shoves her away with both hands.

Rather, he tries to.

He strikes her with his palms on her abdominal muscles, but it's like trying to shove a brick wall; he only succeeds in giving himself another awful shock of agony, up both his arms this time. He looks up at her face in fear and confusion. "The fuck did you just do to me?" he cries. Still holding an empty bottle in his hand, he reaches up and strikes her in the jaw with it with all of his strength, breaking it.

Her face is pushed to the side, and Asmodeus's face gets pushed in an identical way, and he feels the force of the blow. It doesn't hurt him, but he absorbs all of the damage that would otherwise have been caused to his Mistress.

Chris looks up at her, out of options.

Snapping her head back forward to look at him with her crimson eyes, she frowns. The skin where the bottle broke on her face is unbroken, looking just the same as it did before he struck her. "Can't say that I'm shocked that you'd do that. And after I was being so generous with letting you touch me too. Despite you clearly not deserving it." 

Backing up just enough that most of her body was in view, Zayn smiles. Her eyes watch the cornered man panic, trying to comprehend what was happening to him. One hand trails down to her pussy and starts pleasuring herself, as she gets off on the pain she is causing him.

Chris stares stupidly at Zayn masturbating, narrowing his eyes and cradling one arm with the other. Despite the pain in his arms, his erection is fully hard as he watches her sexual display, and it takes him several seconds before he realises it. He looks down, angry and embarrassed, and awkwardly puts his hand down his pants, fumbling to reposition his dick so that it isn't tenting out his sweatpants.

"Stop it!" he shouts, not knowing how to handle anything he's seeing or feeling. "You little slut! You fucking bitch! Stop it! You... you can't do that!" He throws the broken bottle at her, striking her in the face.

A cut appears on Asmodeus' face, an invisible, intangible bottle tearing the skin across his cheek. He smirks, satisfied at the effectiveness of Zayn's protection.

Zayn feels the bottle hit her face, and then nothing. As though it never actually hit her. Her evident invincibility only seemed to make her more aroused.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want. Sound familiar?" Zayn taunts, continuing her ministrations. "Or how about this one: don't pretend like you're not enjoying it." Her eyes drift down to the obvious bulge that he was trying to hide in his sweats. Pathetic.

Each word appears to confuse and enrage him more, his face a bright scarlet and his fists shaking. "Why don't you come over here and do something about it?" she challenges with a smirk, taking a hand off of her tits to wag a finger towards herself.

Embarrassment and fear become aggression and belligerence. "Oh, I'll fuckin' do something about it, you little whore. I don't know what happened to you, but you're still the same ungrateful freak you always were, and you're fuckin' asking for it now."

He steps forward, ready once again to try using the only tool he has. He approaches quickly, not allowing himself a moment to second-guess himself, and places his hands around her throat.

Asmodeus feels Chris' hands close around his throat and squeeze, but just for a moment, as Chris once again cries out in awful pain, and releases Zayn's throat after just a few seconds. He stares at his hands, red and trembling, stinging from the contact with Zayn's skin, then looks back at Zayn, still masturbating. He looks back at his hands, then at the door to the room, then back at Zayn, then suddenly sprints around her as fast as he can, heading for the exit.

Zayn laughs. "Genie, stop him from leaving," she calls out casually, turning to watch him fumble with the door.

"Yes, Mistress." Asmodeus says with pleasure. Watching his mistress toy with another human is far more exciting than he had imagined it would be, and he takes great pleasure in making sure it continues.

Chris fumbles with the doorknob, but it doesn't turn. "Come on, come on, stupid piece of shit!" he shouts. He squeezes it, his hands still burning from his repeated attempts to hurt Zayn, but is completely unable to get a grip on it. He looks over his shoulder to see Zayn simply watching him, then turns back to the door and kicks it as hard as he can. The door doesn't budge.

"Mmm, that won't work. You honestly think I'd let you get away?" Zayn taunts from across the room, enjoying the abject horror she's causing her abuser.

"Shut up shut up!" he yells at her, terror slowly overtaking his anger. He grabs a lamp from the table and starts smashing it against the doorknob, but again, it has no effect except to break the lamp. He stares at it in his hand for a moment, then throws it across the room at Zayn. It misses by a wide margin, and hits the wall ineffectually. He stares at her, breathing heavily, trying to stop the room from spinning. He swallows and croaks out, "Wh- what are you going to do?"

Withdrawing her hands from her body, she makes a show of sucking on the fingers that were working into her pussy. After she's done, she has a spark of inspiration. "Genie, start making him shrink slowly, an inch every three seconds, until he's half my height. Oh, and make it so no one else can notice what's happening here, or is able to interrupt us."

With a confirmation from Asmodeus, she begins to slowly strut towards her terrified step-father.

"Well, Chris, I'm glad you asked!" she starts, with a frightening amount of cheer. "It turns out that today, I found out that I'm a goddess. A vengeful goddess. One that you've been beating and molesting for over a year now. And guess what? I've decided that today's your day of reckoning!"

She stops in front of him, looking all the way down past her large breasts to get a good look at his face.

Chris' whole body starts to tingle. He doesn't pay it any attention at first, but it gets stronger as the seconds tick by, and he shivers from the sensation.

As Zayn steps toward him, he feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. She seems even bigger than she did, he thinks to himself. He stands there, frozen in place, with nowhere to go and no way to defend himself.

"Now... now Emi- Zayn! Zayn, I..." he takes a deep breath. "I think we just need to... to sit down for a minute and... talk this over." He looks up at her eyes, glowing red, past the titanic breasts that now hang directly in front of his face. He swallows. "We can do that, r- right? We can talk? Like adults?"

She gives him an incredulous look, surprised that he's still trying to bargain with her after everything that he's seen so far. "Fuck you," is all she says in response, firmly pressing her pointer finger into his forehead.

Chris' eyes lose focus as a white-hot pain burns into his head. He takes a deep breath and screams again, that same high-pitched squeal, and he staggers backward, away from her touch. He rubs his forehead with his hands frantically, as though that could ease the pain - it doesn't. When he opens his eyes and looks back at her, he squints - something is very wrong. He looks around at the room around him and isn't able to make sense of his change in perspective; he's now 4'10" and still shrinking. His eyes fix on a point on the wall, and he watches it slowly, slowly climb higher above him.

Laughing again at the shrinking man, Zayn watches him scramble backwards. "Do you understand your place now, you bastard?"

"What?" he tears his gaze from the wall and looks back at Zayn. His eyes grow even larger as he sees her again, and his face is now directly in front of her rock-solid abdominal muscles. His sweatpants fall off, exposing his naked legs, though his shirt now hangs down to his mid-thigh and covers his erection.

"What do you mean, my- my place? What the fuck is happening?"

He's now 4'4".

"You're a worm. An insect. A parasite, leeching off of everyone around you. And your body is changing to show it." She pauses, getting another stroke of inspiration. "Genie, make his dick wither and disappear," she says, her command unheard by her tiny victim.

"As you wish, Mistress," Asmodeus replies, enjoying the spectacle.

Chris starts to feel something very strange - the tingling sensation that he feels all over his body is now becoming highly concentrated in his dick. He grabs the bottom of his shirt - now hanging down to his knees - and lifts it up to expose his crotch. His cock is shriveling, shrinking even faster than the rest of him, turning grey.

"Wh... I... uh..." he stammers. He grabs it in one hand, trying somehow to save it, but he can only watch it continue to decay. He continues to shrink, down now to 3'10", though he doesn't even notice, his attention entirely occupied by his disappearing cock.

Zayn walks closer, now towering over the diminutive shell of a man. "Do you understand the consequences of your actions, worm?" she repeats, squatting down so that Chris can see her face.

Chris stares back at Zayn's monstrous face before him, twice as big as his own, her eyes glowing red. Squatting down as far as she can go, she's still taller than he is, and he can't help but stare, speechless, at her.

After a moment, he manages to look back down at his dick, just in time to see it shrink slowly into nonexistence. His crotch now features nothing but a smooth patch of skin with a urethra. He touches it experimentally, and barely feels any sensation at all.

The tingling all over his body fades, and he stops shrinking at 3'6". He looks back up at Zayn, crestfallen, unable to speak.

Seeing no response from the traumatized dwarf of a man, Zayn gets ready to smother him with her body. But she pauses instead.

"Even torture is too good for you, you fucking bastard. I'm done with you," she says, getting back onto her feet. She turns his back to him, eyeing Asmodeus in the corner of the room.

"Genie, I want him gone. Erase him from existence. Make it so that you and I are the only ones that can remember he ever lived. Then clean up his mess," she decrees, as he whimpers behind her.

"Immediately, Mistress."

And suddenly, there's no sound coming from behind her. When she turns to look, there's no one else there in the room.

The broken glass, spilled alcohol, and empty bottles all fade away quickly until they, too, have been erased from existence. The ruined lamp seems to put itself back together and floats back to its place on the table. The dents in the door smooth themselves out. In a few moments, the room is clean and tidy and silent.

"Well done, Asmodeus."

Watching the room knit itself back together, Zayn takes a few deep breaths. Once everything is in place, she walks over to the couch and sits down. With Chris gone, a weight feels lifted off of her shoulders.

She sighs with relief. "Shit, I could go for a smoke after that," the goth mistress thinks aloud. "Asmodeus, my pet, conjure a box of the finest cigarettes for me. Make the box never run out, and make me immune to any negative effects caused by smoking."

"Of course, Mistress." Asmodeus steps forward from where he was standing and extends his hands. In it is a pack of cigarettes with one poking out of the opening. With the other, he snaps his fingers, sparking a flame that hovers over the palm of his hand. He holds it out to her.

Now that the encounter is finished, the cut on Asmodeus' cheek and the impression in his jaw heal themselves. "My congratulations, Mistress. I hope that you took pleasure in destroying him."

The amazon takes the box from her genie's hands, grabbing a cigarette as she does. She holds it out for him to light, before bringing it to her black lips and taking a drag.

Zayn smoked occasionally, but none of those times that she remembered were anywhere remotely as satisfying and pleasurable as the cigarette she was currently pulling from. She blew the smoke out of her nose and smiled, not having a coughing fit courtesy of her asthma for the first time.

"Get used to lighting my cigarettes, Asmodeus. You will be responsible for doing that whenever I want to smoke," she demanded, taking another puff. She thought back to how Chris reacted to her naked body, and how empowering it felt to be physically imposing for once. However...

"Oh, and genie, make it so that everyone else believes this body is normal for me. I don't want to have to deal with everyone shitting themselves over my new form," she said, waving her cigarette in his direction. "It'd probably get old, anyway. I still want people to be impressed and aroused by my body, but I don't want everyone to start freaking out about my growth-spurt, understand?"

Asmodeus extinguishes the flame with a thought and withdraws his hand, pleased at being responsible for lighting her cigarettes.

"Completely, Mistress. It is done. Your previous form has been forgotten by everyone who knows you. And everyone you encounter will be suitably intimidated by or attracted to you. Or both. Often both, I should think." He smiles. He watches her breathe smoke out from her nose, and appreciates how well it suits her.

Blowing another cloud of smoke towards her pet, Zayn also smiles. "Excellent. Genie, fetch me my phone," she commands, crossing her legs and enjoying the sensation of her thick thighs rubbing against each other. She leans back and continues to enjoy her cigarette while she waits.

"Right away, Mistress." She doesn't need to wait long; Asmodeus holds out his hand, and her phone is already in it. He waits patiently while she enjoys her cigarette.

Zayn watches the phone materialize in his hand, frowning when she sees it. The heavily cracked phone screen and flickering back-light made the three year-old smartphone almost unusable. She only put up with it before because she couldn't afford to get a new one anytime soon. Something she wouldn't have to do for much longer.

"Ugh, and make it brand new. Make it into a newer, expensive model or something," she says, not taking it from her genie just yet. She waits for him to make it into something that's worth her time.

Asmodeus frowns at the initially incomprehensible command. "Forgive me, Mistress, but I need a moment. This machine is... unfamiliar to me, and I need to know more about the current state of the world before I can fulfill your wish."

In the meantime she continues to smoke, closing her eyes and enjoying the warm feeling filling her chest. Between puffs, she continues to address Asmodeus. "Watching my bastard step-father lose hope and shrink into nothingness was something I've been dreaming of for over a year now. Knowing I'll never have to see his awful face again... it puts me at ease."

She opens one eye, looking over at her powerful servant. "And what about you, Asmodeus. Did you enjoy watching your mistress squash that insect? How did it make you feel, seeing me dominate my enemy so completely? Did it... excite you?" Zayn casually begins to trace a finger around one of her palm sized areola as she finishes speaking.

He closes his eyes. When Zayn speaks to him, he answers as quickly and easily as ever, but is clearly doing more than one thing at a time.

"He was not worthy to be called your enemy. He was your subject, yours to do with as you please. “

"...but yes, Mistress, it excited me. To see you exercise the power available to you with such relish... to see you overpower him so easily, and reduce him - literally and otherwise - in the ways that would most humiliate him - before annihilating him completely..." he paused, remembering, "...yes. It made me look forward to helping you shape the world as you will."

As he finishes speaking, the phone in his hand thins and lengthens slightly and the cracks vanish. The screen flashes as the device reboots. "I think this will do," he says. "This is similar to what it was previously, but this... iteration is not yet accessible to anyone else. The design is complete, yet its makers are withholding it for the time being." He opens his eyes and his gaze is immediately drawn to her hand lightly touching her breast. He stares for a moment before looking up at her glowing red eyes, and extends his hand to offer the phone to her.

The cigarette she's smoking begins to reach the end of its lifespan as she listens to her servant shower her with the praise that she deserves. Zayn grabs the phone from Asmodeus's hand and turns it over in her own.

"This is acceptable work. Subjects, I like the sound of that," Zayn comments, giggling to herself. She puts the diminished cigarette out on her thigh before setting the bud in her genie's hand as a replacement. Her skin shows no burn marks, only a bit of ash which she wipes away.

Zayn opens up her new phone and navigates to the group chat that she shares with her small circle of friends. She sends them a brief message: meet me at the park in 20. usual spot. found something fuckin amazing to show all of you.

"So, what, you served empresses before me? Fuck it, I'm curious, how do I compare to your previous masters and mistresses? Tell me, and be honest," she says, setting her phone on her lap with her everlasting box of cigarettes. She gives Asmodeus an expectant stare.

Asmodeus' skin lightens a shade at his work being called acceptable and he nods, accepting the mild compliment. He glances down at his thigh as a small circular burn appears on his skin.

"You are... more free. More indulgent. My previous masters and mistresses had all undergone years of education before I met them on appropriate conduct with a djinn. As a result, their use of me was highly restrained. And almost always to the end of protecting the empire. Your use of me would be highly offensive to them. I find it... exhilarating."

His skin lightens again, becoming more blue than green, as he speaks these words.

"Wow, it's a good thing you served a bunch of fucking idiots before me, Asmodeus. Anyone with half a brain wouldn't let this power get away from them. I mean, for fucks sake. You have an all-powerful servant and you let other people tell you what to do?" Zayn scoffs, amazed by her luck. "If any one of your previous masters was smart, you wouldn't be here with me today. So be thankful that they weren't, genie. Or you wouldn't get to indulge my every desire."

"I consider myself singularly fortunate to have entered into your service, Mistress.  It is unlike any service I have ever rendered, and I am immensely grateful that it has been made possible by the stupidity of my previous masters."

He is unable to restrain a smile as he says it, titillated by the act of saying something so inappropriate.

Zayn's phone chimes several times.

Yasmine: ya ok c u there

Melody: It's a school night and I have an exam tomorrow. I hope it's important.

Sara: is it another dead animal? cause that was fucking gross last time

She raises an eyebrow. "It's good that you're smart enough to understand that. I'd have to alter your mind if you were still going to cling to your old masters."

Looking down at her phone, Zayn reads the messages and responds, rolling her eyes at the last one: trust me, if you miss this you're gonna super regret it. it can solve your exam problem, mel. just meet me.

Zayn stands to her feet. "Kay, first thing's first. I want to keep this shit on me, and purses are absolutely not my style. Let's see, make it so when I put something of an appropriate size between my tits and will it, it will disappear until I wish to retrieve it. Practical and sexy," she dictates, wearing an impish smirk. "Oh, and make that last command about my body and stuff being normal apply to everything that affects me unless I say otherwise. Including the command about my breasts. Got all that?"

"Yes, Mistress. All of it. It is done; no one will think anything of it when you make anything vanish or retrieve it."

Her phone chimes.

Melody: Yeah, yeah. I'm coming.

Zayn tests this out immediately by sticking her new phone between her pale teardrops and marvelling as it disappears without falling out the bottom. As she drops the phone in, she grabs her breasts and spreads them apart, seeing the phone had disappeared completely.

"How fun." The raven-haired amazon reaches between her breasts this time, thinking about her phone and suddenly it appears at the tips of her fingers. She pulls it out again, seeing that the rest of her command worked as well. Satisfied with this, Zayn stores her cigarettes and phone within her large chest.

"Now I just need some clothes to wear. Though it would be fun to walk around as I am now... Nah, Asmodeus, conjure me some clothing that is befitting of my status. Let's see. I want a corset, some tall combat boots, and I want everything to be sexy and put my superiority on display. Impress me with the rest." Zayn demands, with her hands on her hips.

"Right away, Mistress."

The sensation of the clothes materialising around her body is very odd, but not more than nine other things that have already happened this evening. The corset squeezes her body as it appears around her, far tighter than it ever would have before, now that she has more body than she had before.

After a few seconds, she's wearing not only the corset and the combat boots, but fishnet stockings, a black skirt with lace, a long leather jacket, a studded collar and earrings with rubies. The corset pushes her breasts up and out, accentuating them and squeezing them together just enough that it's easy to slip objects in and out of them.

As she looks down and examines Asmodeus's work, she is met with a shelf of her own cleavage blocking her vision. She smirks. "Show me how I look, pet."

"Of course, Mistress."

As before, Asmodeus channels his own sight to Zayn. He moves in a slow circle around her, looking her up and down, enjoying it tremendously, while feeding his vision to her eyes.

He moves around her, allowing her to see herself from his perspective, until she commands him to stop.

Zayn suddenly sees through the eyes of her servant once again. She examines the long black combat boots that travel up her legs, reaching her mid thigh. They have a sizable platform, boosting her already towering height by an additional five inches. The laces are immaculately done: a normally time-consuming act completed in seconds.

A lace skirt and fishnet stockings cover her thighs and ass, which causes Zayn to frown. "Genie!" she snaps. "Make my skirt shorter. I want to hypnotize people with my ass."

"As you wish, Mistress."

Her skirt shrinks until it barely covers her ass at all; the bottoms of her cheeks are visible at all times, and anytime she takes a step, the rest of her ass is exposed as well.

Watching herself nod with approval, Zayn accepts this alteration. Before today, she wouldn't wear something that might attract attention so clearly to herself, especially something that was probably too risque to wear out in public. But now, she hoped someone would try to stop her.

Her eyes travel up further to the laced leather corset that she wears, her creamy white breasts nearly bulging out of the top. She commands Asmodeus to tighten up the leather jacket and crop it so that it only reaches her mid back, ensuring that her ass is on display.

She steps closer to Asmodeus in order to get a good look at the accessories she is now adorned with. Next to the spiked choker, two sizable gems are each seated within the mouth of a large silver skull that dangle from both ears. An eye-catching and appreciated embellishment. The rubies seem to sparkle as much as her eyes.

"That's acceptable, stop with the sight thing. Oh, and Asmodeus, fix my makeup and make sure it never fades unless I want it to come off. Then we'll be leaving." Zayn announces, walking past Asmodeus and getting to the door. Her boots click on the floor and her ass quivers with each step.

"As you desire, Mistress."

Within a moment, Zayn's ass is exposed to the world, all of her clothes carefully tailored to avoid hiding it. Her black lipstick and eyeliner, contrasting her pale face, sharpen until they are flawless, and settle on her skin as firmly as a tattoo.

Asmodeus hears her boots click on the floor and his skin becomes lighter, just for a fraction of second, with every one of her footsteps. He watches her walk through the doorway and moves to follow her.

 

Asmodeus follows Zayn through the streets of the city where she lives (and where he, too, now resides). He stares at everything as they walk by; he's had to collect a significant amount of information about the world in 2019 in order to grant some of Zayn's wishes and understand some of what she says, but seeing a city street for the first time is an unforgettable experience. He does not bother his mistress with questions; he has the means to explore his curiosity himself, and does so silently.

There are a few people in the streets, but it's still raining and most people are hurrying to wherever they're going. A few people shoot Zayn dirty looks as she walks by, others leer at her shamelessly.

As Zayn starts her trip to the park, she makes it barely one block before she turns to Asmodeus with a look of frustration. She shivers, her new outfit and body leaving a lot of bare skin exposed to the elements. "Asmodeus, the weather displeases your mistress. Fix it: make it stop raining. Then dry me off. And make it so that I can't get cold ever again." she demands, looking up at the sky briefly and then fixing her gaze back on the genie.

As she waits, she shoots a withering look at a disgusted older woman walking past her under an umbrella.

"By your command, Mistress."

The clouds begin to thin and dissipate, and the rain starts to peter out as the sun starts to poke through the clouds over to the West. There's still about an hour left of daylight, and the sunlight warms up the air quickly.

Not that Zayn needs the air to warm up; all of the water on her skin and in her clothes immediately evaporates, and a sense of warmth comes over her which is clearly not a result of the temperature of the air. Not too warm; just comfortable.

The woman with the umbrella, without stopping, turns her head and asks, "Have you no shame?" Then continues on her away, clearly considering that to be the end of the encounter.

As she watches the clouds disperse, she whips back around to Asmodeus and scowls. "Asmodeus, you idiot! Did I tell you to make it less cloudy? Keep it cloudy and dark out, but just stop the rain. And then make it so that woman," Zayn demands, looking over in the umbrella-carrying woman's direction, "can no longer wear clothes." She waits impatiently for this to happen.

"Forgive me, Mistress!" Asmodeus gasps. "I will correct my error immediately."

The clouds start to thicken and darken once again, covering the sun, returning a chill to the air. Not that Zayn notices.

The woman, from behind Zayn's shoulder, starts to shout, and drops her umbrella as she frantically starts removing her clothes. She throws her hat to the ground, then hurriedly, desperately, drops her coat on the sidewalk, followed by her shoes, top and pants. She mutters to herself as she strips, "Get it off, get it off! Ugh!" A crowd of people start to point and shout, and a couple of bystanders take out their phones and start recording video.

Finally, she drops her underwear to the ground, and lets out a massive sigh of relief, her eyes closed. She shivers. She opens her eyes and sees the crowd all staring at her, and screams, covering her breasts and vagina with her arms. She looks down at the pile of clothes on the ground and picks up her underwear, but immediately shouts and drops it in disgust. Panicking, she looks back at the crowd, then at her clothes, and finally just runs away in the direction opposite Zayn, leaving her clothes, umbrella and purse in a pile on the concrete.

She watches the woman have such a violent reaction to her own clothing and a smile spreads back across her face. As the last article of clothing falls to the ground, Zayn loudly mocks her: "Ugh, have you no shame?" she says, mimicking her nasally voice, laughing to herself before continuing on down the block.

"You have done well thus far, Asmodeus, so I will let this slide. Do not disappoint me again today," she chastises, not looking at him as she speaks. She pulls her box of cigarettes out from between her boobs and takes out another cigarette, holding it out and away from her until it is lit.

"Thank you, Mistress. You are most generous."

Asmodeus summons a flame for her cigarette, and pulls his hand away. As he does, a balding, fat man in his fifties, wearing an undershirt and pyjama pants gives out a loud wolf whistle from his second-floor balcony. He leers at Zayn as she walks in front of him. "Lookin' gooooood!"

She puts the cigarette to her lips, replacing the box in her chest. After taking a puff she looks up and rolls her eyes. "I know," she says, continuing to strut past him. "Hmm, genie, give him a twelve-inch erection. And make it permanent," Zayn says, passing her judgement upon him.

"Yes, Mistress."

The man stops shouting abruptly as he stares down at his penis, stiffening quickly, far more quickly than it has in years. And it begins to press out his pyjamas, just barely noticeable at first, and then forming a tent, and it extends until his waistband is pulled well away from his body. In shock, the man stumbles backward from his balcony and into his apartment, out of sight.

woop-woop

The buildings around Zayn start reflecting the flashing blue light mounted on top of a cop car as it pulls up to the sidewalk. The driver side door opens and a beautiful woman in her 40's steps out. From the passenger side, a young handsome man steps out as well.

"Good evening, ma'am. Could I see some identification?" the woman says.

She smiles, saying to Asmodeus, "Genie, have my driver's license be stored between my tits. And update it to match my new body."

"It is done, Mistress." Asmodeus smiles as though he's having fun.

Zayn casually reaches between her breasts while taking another drag of her cigarette, pulling a state driver's license out and presenting it to the attractive older woman. "Is this what you want?" the towering goth asks, staring down at her with a seductive look.

"Thank you, Miss." She takes it from your hand and looks at it. "Miss, soliciting sex is not allowed here. I'm afraid I've got to place you under arrest."

Gasping, with a look of offense, Zayn protests. "Are you calling me a streetwalker? That's pretty fucking rude!" She looks over at the other officer, studying him as well.

The officer doesn't even respond to Zayn's outraged protest; she simply pulls a pair of handcuffs from her belt. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you..."

"Yeah, that's not gonna fuckin' happen. Genie, make them think that I have all of the authority in this situation, and that they should obey all of my commands." Zayn says, glaring at the two cops. She waits for this effect to kick in.

"It is as you wish, Mistress." he continues to smile.

The goth watches them, waits for them to continue. "Anyways, you were saying?" she asks innocently. She takes another drag.

The woman stops speaking abruptly. She looks up at Zayn, then down at the handcuffs in her hands, then over at the wall, and her face turns a bright shade of crimson. Her partner stares at her, his mouth hanging open.

"...oh my!... uh... I'm... so sorry Miss, I... don't know what came over me. I..." flustered, panicking, she gestures for Zayn to continue on her way. "Please! Please, I... apologise for bothering you." She's visibly shaking.

"Uh huh. No, we're doing this now. So what, you wanted to arrest me for being a prostitute? And how did you come to that conclusion, pig?" Zayn asks, her hands on her hips after putting out her cigarette and throwing it on the pavement. She enjoys the fear that she suddenly is inspiring in the officers. As it should be.

The scene is starting to attract a crowd. About a dozen people are watching from a short distance, confused and curious, whispering to each other.

The officer unconsciously takes a step backwards, away from Zayn. "Please, Miss, it was an honest mistake. I... would never..."

Her partner, jumping to her defense, interrupts. "Miss, it was just on account of the way you're dressed."

The woman very slowly turns to look at him in horror.

He stares at his partner. Though he clearly understands from her look that this is a terrible idea, not knowing what else to do, he simply continues with what he was originally going to say. "Yeah, she said as we were driving that... those clothes constitute... uh..." he withers under his partner's murderous glare.

"Pet, make her outfit into a hyper-sexualized police uniform, one that a stripper might wear. And make it so that everyone else believes that she has been wearing that this whole time," Zayn commands, turning back to look at the genie. She watches the crowd begin to form and smiles, about to continue her performance.

"As you desire, Mistress."

The officer's pants ride up her legs until they form a navy blue miniskirt, exposing the bottom of her ass cheeks; her shoes morph into a pair of tall leather high-heeled boots; and the top several buttons on her shirt disappear while the fabric tightens around her body. Her bra is modified as well to lift her breasts, accentuating her cleavage overtly. She stares down at her clothes, feeling how they fit her body and how they make her look. Even the handcuffs she's holding are now covered in a fuzzy pink cushioning.

After the magic makes the change, Zayn scoffs, still trying to act offended. "Seriously? I find that pretty hypocritical, considering what you have on right now." She roughly pokes the officer on her shoulder with her last word, as if to emphasize her point. "You obviously had to have had some other reason for stopping me, hmm?"

She looks over at her partner, who's grimacing at her in disdain and disappointment. "Why would you come to work dressed like that?" He asks her. "I told you that it undermines your authority. And it's inappropriate!"

Several people in the crowd start laughing and pointing, and the officer looks around at them, stunned into silence, desperately trying to think of a way to extricate herself from the situation.

One man turns around and takes a selfie with Zayn and the officer in the background, Zayn poking the officer's shoulder. He laughs and shows it to his friend, standing next to him. "Check it out, bro. Which one's the whore?" he guffaws.

The officer is unable to answer Zayn's question. "This is... this can't be real." She mutters to herself.

Zayn surveys the situation, happy to be able to humiliate these members of authority in front of so many. She looks again to Asmodeus. "Good, now make her intensely attracted to me; make it so that she believes that I am the most sexual and attractive person she will ever meet. And give her a humiliation fetish, one that she is incredibly embarrassed to have," the goth beauty continues to command, planning on escalating the situation much further than this.

"Immediately, Mistress." The crowd starts to thicken, and people start to bump into Asmodeus. He jumps into the air, beating his huge wings once, and alights on a street lamp above the scene where he can watch without coming into contact with anyone.

Bending down enough that she is eye level with the police-stripper, Zayn gazes at her with her unnaturally intense stare. "Well, pig? I'm waiting," she repeats, thrusting her ass out so that the onlookers can get a good look.

The officer begins breathing heavily, and her face turns even more red than it was before. Her mouth goes dry as she stares at Zayn's face, her glowing red eyes, her enormous bust, her statuesque body, and whimpers just a bit as she feels her pussy start to moisten. She looks around again at the crowd of onlookers gawking, staring, laughing, jeering, and it's all she can do not to place her hand under her miniskirt right then and there.

"It's not real. It's just a dream," she mutters to herself. She takes a deep breath and looks back at Zayn. "I wanted to stop you because... because you're so sexy. I just wanted to get close to you," she said, half-believing that it was really true. Her partner gawks at her. As she says the deeply embarrassing words, another rush of arousal comes over her and she licks her lips unconsciously.

With a warm smile, Zayn adopts a look of pity. "Oh, I see. Well, I can hardly blame you. My body is pretty fucking flawless, isn't it?" Zayn says, standing up and this time thrusting her corset-supported tits near the officer's face.

She looks up again at Asmodeus, this time planning to deal with the other officer. "Now Asmodeus, make that other officer realize that watching me dominate people is the sexiest thing he has ever fucking witnessed. And make it so that whenever anyone else besides me and him hears him speak, they'll hear a pig squealing instead."

"Of course, Mistress."

The officer gapes, almost in a trance. "Oh, my god, it is flawless, it's... you're..." She trails off as she unthinkingly brings one had up to her tit and starts rubbing it through her shirt. She tears her gaze from Zayn's body and looks around at the crowd of people, savouring their attention, knowing that what she was doing was completely unacceptable, but unable to make herself stop.

The other officer, completely at a loss for what to do, stands there staring with an erection pressing against the side of the police car. Torn between watching the highly arousing spectacle on one hand and his duty on the other, he hesitates, then finally shouts at his partner, "Miranda! What are you doing?"

A mixture of gasps and laughter comes from the crowd, as they heard only the squealing and snorting of a pig when he spoke. Miranda looks over at him, surprised, but... not too surprised. She continues to rub herself, more and more convinced by the moment that she's dreaming and nothing really matters.

As the situation continues to devolve into chaos, Zayn feels her own arousal start to spike. "Now, how should I punish you for trying to arrest me, hmm?" Zayn thinks aloud. She forcefully grabs the slutty officer's face with one hand, pushing her thumb between her lips as she does. "Why don't you start by worshipping my body, Miranda? Right now, in front of everyone else here." Zayn withdraws her thumb after a moment, smearing the officer's saliva across her forehead.

"Oh, god, yes..." Miranda whispers, and without wasting even a moment to think about it, gets down on her hands and knees without pausing to wipe her saliva off her forehead. She shuffles forward to kiss and lick Zayn's feet, and runs her hands up and down her calves gently. She sticks her ass way up in the air as she does, waving it back and forth, invitingly, for everyone to see.

Her partner starts to get short of breath watching the display of utter dominance before him. He swallows and starts to rub his rock-hard dick through his pants with his hand.

The crowd starts to get loud. Certain people are shouting in anger and disgust, but many of them are cheering the public humiliation of the police. One young man, laughing, walks up to Miranda and slaps her ass as hard as he can. Miranda gasps sharply and stops her rubbing; she moans loudly and puts both hands on the ground to steady herself as she orgasms right there, in front of the crowd, while on duty.

As she watches the officer lick her boots and worship her legs, Zayn can't help but feel a delicious amount of irony that she unknowingly created. She lifts up one of her boots so that the officer-turned-servant can clean the bottom. She doesn't wait for Miranda to recover from her orgasm.

At the same time, she hears the jeers coming from the crowd and shakes her head. "Genie, I will not suffer these hecklers in the crowd. Make them all understand the incredible privilege it is for them to watch me subjugate this woman and her pig partner."

"It is done, Mistress." Asmodeus watches with a visceral fascination as Zayn's dominance extends over the entire group of people.

The crowd quiets down slowly. The enthusiasm of some of them allows their laughter and cries of indignation to continue for a few moments, but soon everyone is watching quietly, respectfully, with rapt attention.

Zayn then fixes her attention on the courageous man that interrupted her scene. "Hey, dumbass, did I give you permission to touch my fucking property?" she asks with a vicious stare.

The male officer breathes in sharply and jams his hand into his underwear at Zayn's outburst.

The young man turns slightly pale, realising very quickly what an error he's made. He looks down at Miranda, who's already begun licking the bottom of Zayn's boot, and back up at Zayn. "Sorry..." he said. "I, uh, didn't know she was your property, I thought she was just, like..." he paused, searching for the words. "...bein' a whore."

Zayn continues to glare at him. "Of course you didn't know, you're obviously too stupid to grasp what's going on here. Now beg for my forgiveness, or you'll be ejected from this show," she says plainly, her gaze unwavering.

The man stares at her, clearly conflicted. On one hand, being witness to this display of Zayn's power is a rare treat, and something he's lucky to be a part of. The word privilege pops into his mind, though it's not a word he thinks about very often, and he never actually uses it. On the other hand, his pride is riled up at being insulted - and worse, ordered around - in front of all these people, especially after he was expecting to make everyone laugh and cheer by slapping the cop's ass.

He takes only a few moments, and makes up his mind. "Fuck you, bitch! What are you gonna do about it?" he shouts at her.

Miranda moans. Being the subject of this highly public argument over whether it was appropriate to slap her ass is the hottest thing she's ever experienced. She reaches back and rubs her clit with her right hand while holding herself up with her left forearm.

An evil grin spreads across her face. "Genie, make the crowd turn on this idiot. Make them fired up to protect me and watch me punish him." Zayn says, gently kicking her police-slut away and walking over to the belligerent douche.

"As you like, Mistress."

"Big mistake," she says, stepping close and using her height to tower over him. "My subjects, what do you think? Should I make an example of him?" she poses to the crowd, awaiting a response.

The crowd, now numbering at least 50 people, roars. Not one of them blinks an eye at being called Zayn's subjects - it seems a perfectly appropriate word.

"Show him!" "Teach him a lesson!" "He can't talk to you like that!" "Fuck him up!"

This last outburst comes from the male cop, who's now openly masturbating while watching Zayn's performance. Miranda lies on her back on the sidewalk, continuing to masturbate, looking up at the sky.

The young man, seeing now what an unfortunate situation he's found himself in, starts to try to walk away, but the crowd prevents him from leaving. "Outta my way!" he shouts, trying to push through, but there are too many of them, and they keep him in the circle with Zayn and Miranda.

"What's the matter? I thought you wanted to be a part of the fun? Well, now you are!" Zayn says as she closes in on the panicked man. "Now, how should I punish you for your insolence?" she thinks aloud.

Turning to one of the two masturbating cops (the one stroking himself behind his cruiser in this case), she gives him a stern look. "Hey, piggy, why don't you take your hand off your cock for a second and toss me your handcuffs? Then you can keep stroking your pathetic penis while you watch me subjugate this worm."

The cop jerks his hands away from his dick to avoid shooting his load right there, but to no avail; he squeezes his eyes shut, moans and spurts the passenger side door with his come. The crowd around him once again reacts with a mixture of laughter and disgust at the sound of an orgasming pig coming from the man.

Quickly, he looks up to see Zayn waiting impatiently; he nods, breathing through his mouth, and, with trembling hands, unhooks his handcuffs from his belt and tosses them to her. "Here you are, Miss," he says weakly. (grunt snort grunt)

Zayn catches them with one hand and begins twirling them around one finger. She turns back to her unwilling participant. "Alright, worm, here's what's going to happen. You're going to cuff yourself and submit to me. Got it?" she says coldly, expecting him to have another outburst.

He looks back at her. He knows, on some level, that he's in over his head and that this is a bad idea. But he's in too deep, and he has no way to get away from her that will allow him to save face. He leans forward and dares her: "Fuckin' make me."

The crowd gasps in surprise and anticipation. The ones in front are pressed forward by the ones in the back trying to get closer; the circle gets smaller; it's maybe 15 feet across. Miranda whimpers from down on the sidewalk as she brings herself to orgasm again.

Laughing, she looks up at Asmodeus again. "Asmodeus, give me control over this pathetic man's body as if it was my own. Except for the head, I want to see him react when his own body betrays him." The handcuffs keep twirling around her ring-adorned pointer finger as she waits.

"It is done, Mistress."

Before he finishes speaking, Zayn feels overwhelmed - just for a second - by a sudden rush of new nervous information, as though she suddenly had twice as many muscles in her body. It's jarring and confusing. When Zayn tries to move one of the muscles she intuitively understands aren't hers, the man's whole body spasms and he falls to the ground, but within just a few seconds, Zayn is able to coordinate the flood of information about the new muscles under her control. The man's body is hers.

Zayn can't help but gasp at the feeling of controlling another person's body. It was alien and incomprehensible at first, but that feeling wore off after she gave an experimental flex of a few of his muscles.

With malicious intent, she looked down at the man that she made drop to the pavement. "Something wrong?" she asks with a knowing smirk.

He looks back up at her, terror mixed with fury. He strains, but is completely paralysed, collapsed in a heap on the ground. He puts effort for about a minute, then, panting, shouts, "What did you do to me, you fucking cunt! Stop it! Let me up!"

The rest of the crowd is awed by the fact that Zayn has just dropped the man and pinned him to the ground apparently without doing anything - without even touching him. A hush settles over them.

With a sigh, Zayn tries to act as bored as she can to the crowd. "Kay, let's stop wasting my time. Stand up," she commands him, and then she stands his body up as if it was her own. Which it basically was at this point.

She gives him a knowing look, still holding her smirk. "Kneel." She makes him kneel. "Bow." The man bows and touches his forehead to the pavement.

"What! No!" The man cries out, but it doesn't matter in the least what he says; his traitorous body obeys only Zayn. As he bows and kneels, he doesn't stop shouting. "You fucking bitch! You... what are you, some kind of a witch? Some space alien? What the fuck are you doing to me? I swear to god, I will... I..."

His angry raving starts to peter out as he realises how ridiculous it is to threaten Zayn with anything. Face down, bowing before her, he spends a moment in silence, and then: "Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I... I'm sorry for touching your property, and for yelling at you, and... for calling you a bitch, and... and a cunt... please, just... let me move again."

She shrugs. "You haven't learned your lesson yet. We're done when I say we are," the red-eyed giantess says, dropping the handcuffs on the ground in front of his face. "Now cuff yourself."

Zayn makes him grab the cuffs, and she awkwardly thrusts his hands in so his palms are apart and behind his back. She puts a heeled boot onto his head and pushes him into the ground further. The pressure from the weight of her leg causes his face to get scraped by the rough sidewalk, drawing blood.

"Good boy. See, your body wants to obey me. It knows that you are a lesser being, an insect compared to my perfection. I'm feeling generous today, so I will still allow you to beg for my mercy. Even after the disrespect you have shown me in front of my subjects." She surveys her audience as she says this, watching how they react to her speech.

The crowd is spellbound. Still inching closer, tightening the circle, they hang on to her every word, grinning and laughing at the sight of the arrogant man reduced to begging.

"Please! I - aargh - I'm sorry!" He shouts, his cheek scraping the pavement. "Please let me up! Please show me mercy! I'll - I'll do whatever you want!" His voice starts to crack; his rage now is fully replaced by fear and dread. "I'll lick your boot like that whore if you want me to! Please just let me move again!" There's no way to know whether he's still trying to move his body; if he is, his efforts aren't visible at all.

"Good boy," she says in the most patronizing way she can. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now, I'll let you move again if you do one more thing for me. Tell me what I am, and what you are compared to me. I need to make sure that you learned something, after all!"

Zayn lifts her ringed finger and she makes his body respond. She steps off of the man's head and makes his body rise up off the ground back into a kneeling position, allowing him to look all the way up to see her piercing red eyes. Then she waits for him to speak.

He stares up at her, her enormity taking up his whole field of vision, her red eyes occupying all of his attention. Now that she's not stepping on him, the thought crosses his mind, very briefly, of telling her to go fuck herself again, but he banishes that thought just as quickly as it came.

"You're... you're the boss. No- you're a- a superhero. You're a goddess. And I'm a worm, compared to you." He would hang his head in shame, except he can't move his neck. He can only keep looking up into Zayn's eyes.

The cop by the squad car is masturbating furiously, despite the fact that he just came only a few seconds ago. His dick is bright red with overexertion, but he seems not to care. The crowd has mixed reactions; some cheer, some seem disappointed at his capitulation, others simply look at Zayn to see what she does.

A sigh parts the lips of his goddess. "That'll have to do. I'm bored of you, anyways."

She motions for him to stand, which she then makes him do while she speaks to her hidden genie. "Asmodeus, make it so that the handcuffs he's wearing fall apart when I touch them. And then give him back control of his body." She pauses, having a thought. "But make it so that whenever he thinks of being cocky and rude like he was today, he thinks about me. And make him feel compelled to kneel whenever he thinks of me."

"As you wish, Mistress," she hears Asmodeus' voice loud and clear despite the fact that he's perched high above her.

Zayn turns his body around in front of her and walks up behind him. "Remember what I taught you. Or else I'll be taking your body back," Zayn threatens, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. Heaving, corset-contained breasts push into his shoulders as she does. Then, she taps the handcuffs with one digit.

The handcuffs dissolve into rust when she lays her finger on them, falling away in chunks and red powder. Then, suddenly, the power holding the man upright disappears and he falls to his knees, reflexively putting his hands out to break his fall. He lifts one hand and flexes his fingers, then, without saying a word, scrambles to his feet and runs. The crowd surrounding them parts to allow him to leave, and he charges through the opening as fast as he can, and runs down the street.

Once he is let through, Zayn turns back around to the two that started this scene. She raises an eyebrow and frowns at the cop, who looks like he is painfully trying to get himself off again. Then she turns her attention to Miranda, who is also working herself to another orgasm while laying on her back. The shameless officer's eyes follow Zayn's every movement, tracing over each curve while she masturbates.

Zayn clears her throat as she struts back towards Miranda, meeting her eyes as she moves. "Having fun, slut?" she teases.

She gasps as she has a small orgasm at the thrill of Zayn addressing her once again. It takes her a moment to catch her breath, and then, without ever removing her hand from her clit, manages to squeak out a response.

"Oh my god, I've... never been so turned on. I've never come so much. Not even when I was with my ex. Oh, god..." her voice trails off as she closes her eyes and laughs at the absurd pleasure of jilling off in front of a crowd.

"How funny. You stopped me because you thought I was too sexy to be out in public, and look at you now. Finger-fucking yourself in front of a crowd." Zayn continues to taunt the woman, punctuating her observation by spitting on her face.

Zayn walks over and plants her plush ass on the hood of the police cruiser next to her. She yawns. "Kneel in front of me, bitch."

Breathing deeply, Miranda manages to turn over and raise herself up on her shaking arms. She crawls toward Zayn on her hands and knees. "Yes, Ma'am." she whispers. She obediently settles down on her knees, placing her hands on her thighs, and rests there, shivering, an awkward smile turning up her lips now and again. 

The crowd continues to grow; as more pedestrians pass by, they're attracted by the crowd, and once they get close enough, they become entranced by Zayn's incredible display; there are now at least 65 people around, and all of them are staring, watching, waiting expectantly.

She narrows her eyes. "Yes, mistress," Zayn corrects. "You belong to me now, and you will address me with the proper respect, you whore. Now continue to worship me while I decide your fate."

"Yes Mistress!" Miranda corrects herself. "I'm sorry Mistress!" She brings her forehead down to the ground and starts to kiss and lick Zayn's boots once again.

Zayn reaches between breasts to grab her cigarettes, her fingers brushing her buzzing phone. She pulls that out too, checking the messages. Undoubtedly her friends are waiting for her to get to the park.

Again, she holds out her unlit cigarette with a limp wrist, waiting for it to be lit while she checks her messages.

Asmodeus jumps down from the streetlamp, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. He deftly avoids landing on any other people, and extends his hand, creating a flame to light her cigarette. Once it's lit, he beats his wings and flies up to perch once again on top of the lamp.

Sure enough, Zayn has several texts from Yasmine:

here now

where r u

u coming?

She responds: running late, cops stopped me. be there soon.

Zayn thought for a minute, and then snapped a picture of the slutty policewoman licking her boot and sent it too.

Satisfied, she put her phone back and put her cigarette to her black lips. "Listen up, Miranda. I've got places to be, now, and you're wasting my time. Come here," she commanded firmly, uncrossing her legs and pointing to her lap.

Miranda looks up from Zayn's boots to see what is expected of her. She gasps. "Right away, Mistress!" scrambling to her feet. She positions her face in front of Zayn's crotch, and reaches forward to pull down her underwear, but stops herself.

"May I, Mistress?"

"You may." Zayn doesn't look at her servant, merely takes another drag and examines her audience.

Eagerly, Miranda pulls down Zayn's underwear to her mid-thigh and proceeds to lick and suck her clit. She does it awkwardly, as though she's never eaten pussy before, but she's enthusiastic and clearly wants to please her.

Some in the crowd start to hoot and cheer, while others watch solemnly. A few even reach into their own underwear and start to masturbate. 

The male cop, now behind Zayn, watches his partner submit completely and curses under his breath, breathing through his mouth, frustrated at being unable to come so soon after the last time.

Using one hand to shove the officer into her crotch, she takes another puff of smoke with her other. Still, despite the officer's eagerness, Zayn isn't pleased with the results.

"Come on, you dumb bitch. Use your tongue. I can barely feel you down there," she barks, kicking Miranda's ass with one of her blocky heels.

She looks over at her genie. "Asmodeus, make this slut a pro at cunnilingus. And give her a longer tongue, too."

"As pleases you, Mistress."

Zayn notices the change immediately; Miranda suddenly hits just the right spot, then again, and again, and again - as though she were intentionally holding back before. Zayn feels her tongue snaking its way into her canal, a strange but very pleasurable feeling.

Asmodeus watches Miranda pleasure his mistress with undisguised envy.

Within her breasts, Zayn feels her phone buzz with another text message.

Steadily, the pleasure that Zayn feels begins to amp up with the change. As the sensations continue to rise, Zayn wraps her legs around the servile officer's head. She leans back, using both hands to steady herself on the hood of the car. The vibration between her breasts is a distant thought at the moment.

"F-fuck, yes, there you go," Zayn moans, approvingly. "You better get used to this, you -mmh- slut, 'cause this is all you're good for n-now." Her voice is shaky, but seems to have an effect on the officer as she redoubles her efforts.

It's not long before Zayn reaches an orgasm, squeezing her thighs around the officer's head as her hands drop her cigarette and fail to find traction on the cruiser. Instead, she leans back and grabs a handful of Miranda's hair as a leash, using it to steady herself as her body quivers with electricity and pleasure. Zayn is unable to stifle a moan as she lets out a sensual wail that pierces the atmosphere of the crowd.

Miranda cries out as Zayn pulls on her hair with her enormous body weight, but she steadies herself against the car and manages not to fall. At Zayn’s wail, the crowd starts to moan, sigh, grunt and cry out in relief, Zayn’s pleasure being enjoyed vicariously by everyone present, as though part of a ritual. Asmodeus’ skin flares up and lightens to azure as he watches, his wings twitching involuntarily.

After a few seconds, members of the crowd start to murmur, shudder and shake their heads slowly, as though waking up. The circle expands and loosens slowly as people start to take a few steps backwards. Some start to laugh; others sit down on the pavement to steady themselves.

Miranda sits down on the sidewalk and puts her arms around her knees, breathing heavily and smiling goofily once in a while.

After a few moments that she needs to catch her breath, she props herself up on her elbows. The feeling of over a hundred eyes focused on her, enraptured by her every word and movement, was somehow even more pleasing than the powerful orgasm she just experienced.

"Genie, I would like to reward my subjects," she says, breathing heavily. "Over the next 24 hours, they will all become more attractive, sexually endowed, energetic, and gain a high libido. They'll each understand it as a gift from me, and be overjoyed to change in such a way. They'll abandon their current beliefs and wish to worship me instead. Make it so," Zayn says, waving her hand.

“Yes, Mistress,” Asmodeus breathes from above her. The crowd starts to disperse, slowly lazily, sated. A few linger to watch you for a few moments more.

She sits up and looks at the officer sitting on the sidewalk. "Miranda, listen to me. You're my pet now, my little slutty police puppy. If you're in a relationship, you're to break it off and make sure that they know that your new owner is infinitely more desirable to you. The more you degrade them for me, the happier I'll be. You're to get a tattoo that marks your body as my property. And you will get yourself a collar and a leash to wear for the next time you present yourself to me. Give me your phone," Zayn commands, stretching out her hand expectantly.

Miranda reaches into her pocket – or tries to, but realizes quickly that her new outfit doesn’t have any. She searches around frantically and finds her wallet and phone sitting on the seat in the car; she grabs the phone and rushes back to present it to Zayn.

As she places it in Zayn’s hand, she asks her timidly: “Am… am I dreaming, Mistress?”

Zayn ignores her for a moment, opening her phone and finding her contacts. She enters her own number into a new favorited contact labeled 'Mistress Zayn' before navigating to the camera. With it, she takes a selfie, staring intently at the phone with her red eyes while her black lips pucker slightly and frown with displeasure. She makes sure the tops of her overflowing breasts are captured within the photo before she closes the phone and tosses it back to her carelessly. Miranda fumbles to catch it.

"You're in my dream, Miranda. And you're never going to wake up," she states plainly, moving past her servant and stopping in front of the other officer. "Cum," she commands, brushing a hand gently across his cheek before moving on and walking away from the scene, her wide hips swaying hypnotically.

The male officer gasps and comes again. His dick is an angry red, and he ejaculates no more than a few drops, but the sensation of it is enough to force him to put his hands on the roof of the car to keep upright.

Asmodeus leaps down from the lamplight and lands on the street beside her; he straightens up and follows slightly behind.

Both police officers stare at her as she walks away, and stand there for a long time after.

 

End of part 1

 

RP Log Rating

Average: 4.7 (7 votes)