You finish your drink. For whatever reason, Ravequeen Liz’s brainwashing musical stylings just aren’t doing it for you tonight. Maybe it’s because you left your hypnovisor at home. Or maybe you’re just not up for having a blue-haired songstress bass-blast your brains out.
You finish your drink, take your coat, and head out the door into the alley. “Leaving so soon?” A cool voice blows in behind you. A hand rests on your shoulder. Hot pink nails, sharpened to a point. You turn around to see a vision in pink and black. “Party’s not over yet.”
You freeze. She smiles. “The night’s still young, and I need an assistant. You only get a full moon like this once a month.”
She rests her arm on your shoulder and gets walking. Your legs carry you with her. “I know, I know. You’re wondering what’s up with the outfit.”
“Well, I’m a witch.” She smiles. You’re looking at those yummy violet lips. Your heart throbs in your chest. “And, well, even we have to dress for the club. You get it.” She rolls her eyes. “Ever wanted to see the inside of a witch’s apartment?”
She lives nearby enough. “I look for assistants at that club a lot, but I never get anyone so cute. Must be my lucky day.”
Witches, as you know, live in awfully upscale apartments. New hardwood flooring, in-unit laundry, new appliances. Including a stainless steel cauldron.
“Just in time, too. I needed a new familiar.” The cauldron clicks on. She sits you down on the couch and whispers in your ear. “You’ll be a good girl for Miss Gina.”
Your body goes limp. Her cool voice swirls into your head. Your eyelids flutter. Your hands start to wander.
“It’s not easy raising Hell all day. Do you think demons show up and start sowing chaos all by themselves? They don’t even make a party worth going to without the right summoning circle.” She sits on your lap. Her legs wrap around your torso. Her bulge against your chest.
Just thinking about Miss Gina’s bulge gets your mouth watering~
She snaps her fingers. A bubbling ladleful of fresh potion hovers across the room. “Drink up, silly goose. Well, silly owl.”
Thick, black bubbling sludge slides down your throat. Your bones start to twist and stretch. Your gaze fixes on Miss Gina’s perfect golden eyes.
The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is the inside of a mask covering your face and the inside of her hand between your legs. You’re a good little familiar for Miss Gina.
You wake up before Miss Gina, like you always do. She’s passed out from a night of partying and putting curses on cute girls. A tail here, a fetish for goths there, and one rude bartender turned into a slutty potion vendor. You flap off to the kitchen. Miss wakes up hungry!