NTR Quest Pub Tier - Demonkine City 2 - Art

Kara held out her tongue for the Painter, or at least, his host. A fat greasy elf with pale skin. Perhaps one of the few of his kind with such an outlandish figure. The man sought appreciation and ironically found it, while sacrificing his lithe good looks for a round face and a dad bod. Kara looked past it. She had to. They all did, because the man literally was a drug to them. A bead of sweat was the equivalent to a tab on their tongues and it would have been so easy for him to let them indulge, to give themselves over to the addiction and lose their minds completely in one passionate session of lovemaking. However, the Primal was not interested. In fact, he almost seemed to be holding them back from falling.

“Please...” She groaned.

“Please?” He muttered curiously.

“I can feel myself coming down... It hurts. My head is pounding. We worked off the last dose, now give us another!”

“We can keep working.” Jeane promised.
“Just a little longer.”

“You want it to stop? Do you all want it to stop?” He asked. Kara, Jeane and Vura each nodded their affirmation. They wanted the drug but more than anything they needed it to stop.

“Why are you teasing us!?” Kara uttered indignantly.

“That.” He pointed at her.  The fox traded Jeane a confused glance.
“That. I wanted you to have the awareness to defy me. To be upset. To get frustrated and to think and to comprehend what's happening and where it's going.”
“Halo can control you and keep you in line and with the leverage one has while you're under it's spell, I can convince you to do anything.”

“I don't follow.” Kara grimaced.

“I do.” Jeane interjected grimly. The creature smiled and let her continue.
“Humiliation is like 'choice.' Without the ability to make decisions there is no choice just as there is no humiliation without the awareness of what we are doing in direct contrast to...” He lip quivered.
“What we should be doing...”

Vura looked down shamefully. “The Hero... The mission.” All of their bodies were coated in slick sweat from the heat of the club. Their clothes had long since been stripped for tight leather lingerie with far too many straps, making them look like tied roasts with how tight they pressed into their skin. They were suddenly all to aware of the tightness and the lack of anything. Even Kara, the one who felt no shame in wearing nothing, somehow felt a pang of it in the stripper garb she had been put in.

“We've been working for him without even thinking about it as we came down off this high.” Jeane observed.
“Now we know exactly where this is going and what it is doing to us. He is expecting us to fall, even with our wits about us.”

“You-” Kara bared fangs and stood up. She balled her fist, being careful not to nick her long, painted nails. She stopped and blinked as the Painter held up a portrait of her like a shield. The image of a sultry bimbo that had decorated the frame before had shifted. Her lips had lost some swelling and her eyes lost the purely empty quality to them. The painting was on its way to becoming more dignified.
“What?”

“Now now. We're so close to a masterpiece, here, girls. Three of them. It's wonderful.”

The girls felt their faces fearfully. It was not obvious, but there was something. It did feel different. They felt different overall. Leaning against the wall two more paintings with similar alterations were present of Jeane and Vura.
“I'm not going to see myself trade places with a painting to be added to some Primal's collection!” Kara turned on her tall heels and began to stomp out. The others turned hesitantly, bolstered by her resolve. The Fox's tail stood on end, as did the fur on her ears. She was cold, her head hurt, she was shaking. The Primal grinned as she turned around.
“We... Wont get far like this, will we?”

The other two nodded and shared her delusion. “Y-yes.” Jeane began.
“For once a very astute observation from you, Fox.”

“Maybe just a bit more?” Vura suggested.
“A bit more then we leave with the Hero.”

“Agreed.” They all turned around and approached the painter.
“We want-”

The painter turned on his stool and practically glowed. “Well, let's be clear what we want. I wouldn't want you girls getting in over your head.” They felt as though they shrunk as he stood up and loomed over them with a great aura.
“And I must say, it's actually very ill advised for you to do this.” He teased.

“What are you doing?” Kara muttered. It was not in his interest. It was like he was convincing them to leave.

He continued, pacing in front of them. “If you simply leave now, you will recover. In fact, you are so close to recovery already. Just another day or so free of my drug and you will be free.” He explained.

“Stop it...” Jeane begged. The time under the spell and the absence of it's joy made them crave easy, simple surrender, not humiliation and choice.

He continued. “Really, what you're at is more of a significant turning point than you can imagine.” he taunted.
“The drug is changing your mind and at this point, another hit of it will permanently damage your minds and alter your bodies just a little closer to... Well, I would call it perfection.”

“This is some kind of warning?” Kara snapped back.

“No... No...” He grinned.

“If you want my Halo it's 'bonus.' When junkies normally take a drug it is in spite of the downsides and the symptoms. The fog. They want the high, but I don't like that. If you truly 'love' and want my Halo you'll beg for the withdrawal, the side effects, all of the nasty add-ons with none of the pleasure.” The girls stood stunned.

“But...” Kara began.

“We wont feel any relief.” Vura whined.

Jeane pursed her lips. She was foremost among them that did not want to admit that the deal that stuck out in her mind as vastly, disproportionately unfair was actually tempting. There was something supernatural about Halo to the extent that the want of it was not just the feeling it provided, but the desire itself. She and the others squirmed as desire purely for the sake of desire with no benefit swam around their addled minds.  Jeane spoke the words in a whisper that triggered the other two to nod.
“Perhaps it's a test? We will have it, but he's warding us off to see if we'll still agree.”

“Oh. You will get something.” he chuckled.
“As I said. Bonus.”

That was all they needed. “What do we need to do?” It was not a question of if they wanted the drug. They wanted it. They craved it. Presuming that the feeling of joy and elation would come regardless of what he said, it was all they needed to convince themselves to move towards him.

“Consent.” He offered coyly.

“A little late for that...” Jeane muttered.

“A contract has entered your minds. Speak it out loud to me for your fix.” He spoke the requirements and nothing else. He sat back down and waited patiently.”

Kara cleared her throat and got down on one knee. She looked up at him and asked. “I truly wish to feel everything wrong with Halo and nothing of the benefits. I want to be addicted, I want to feel foggy, I want to feel the uncomfortable withdrawal. All in exchange for...” She gulped.
“Nothing... Nothing at all.” The others spoke the same words, much to the Primal's delight.

“Each of you take a piece of me. Human and Ciar kiss my feet. Fox... Come here.” Kara leaned in submissively. Her lips folded around the head of his cock as he held it out for her while beneath her both other girls kissed his feet wetly. Kara kissed it deeply, circling the head with her tongue to pick up the dried precum. It was like a drug, only it really was not. Her heart beat quickly, her body ached from withdrawal and and felt nothing but need for another dose. Her mind had all the fogginess from before and more. She still made a cute kissing noise as she left his cock, ass did the other two leaving their respective marks.

“This- This is wrong.” Kara complained, shaking.

“You only got exactly what you wanted.” He explained. Kara looked over at the portrait. The image of a  permanently pleased bimbo of her description shifted subtly. Her silly smile faded and her eyes returned fully. Kara gasped and pulled Jeane up to see in the Elf's face a likely mirror of what she looked like. Her pupils had gone and all that was left was the cute pink Halo, twisted into a hard on the canvas of white that was Jeane's eye. Her lips were curled into a bright smile and when she saw it, Kara realized her own was, as well. She wanted to feel betrayed and cheated but they got exactly what they bargained for. They paid for the right to feel withdrawal and addiction. To be beholden to 'want' personified.

As they fretted the painter lined their paintings up to face each of them, as if hypnotized they turned to stare into them, their smiling mouths falling open in awe. An appreciation for 'art' filled their very souls. The brilliance of the strokes and the meaning of the works themselves. Or at least, the intended meaning gained so much more after being bolstered by something. Jeane in particular felt a sinking sensation that it was them. They each felt their shaking bodies fold. Their posture straightened and their chests poked out, same as their rear. Their feet remained close together and their hand clasped behind their back in a subservient pose.

“All of us, Primals that is, have flaws that prevent us from creating what we love most... Only mortals have the power to truly create art. It is the greatest tragedy of our own existence. A Writer that can only copy, a Musician without a single song to her name and...” He sighed.
“A Painter who's work lacks depth and meaning absent the right 'muse.'” He caressed the painting of Kara. A soul is a perfect work of art when bound and...” He trailed off, not finishing that sentence.

“W-what are you doing to us?” Kara groaned.

“What I created were three flat images of very bland characters. Dumb, beautiful girls that were happy to work and serve.” Kara stared at the paintings. They were not complete. Somewhere in between. He saw what she did and nodded slowly.
“As my servants, you should be feeling it. Some more than others.”

Vura could not hold it back anymore. “M-master's art is so incredible!” She gushed.

Kara cringed at the statement, but she felt it to. The beauty and potential and the intrusive thought that threatened to end  her.
'If- If only it was finished...' She shook it off.

“Get to work.” The painter ordered. The girls all filed out. As soon as they were out on the floor Kara breathed.

“What's happening!?”

Jeane frowned and watched Vura shuffle off onto the floor, intent on obeying. “Primals can create servants, but not 'individuals.' The Painted are flat beings capable of following orders and providing some performance of thought and emotion, but it's all just 'paint' so to speak. Our personalities are being-” She frowned.
“Being mixed with theirs. Slowly drawn out and replaced. If we do not escape we will be added to his collection. Another 'masterpiece' lining the walls of this place.

“Each painting is a person that fell? Which means all these vacant people are-”

“Caricatures of themselves...” As she said that the stage lit up with three spotlights. They felt themselves drawn to the lights like moths. Kara only briefly noticed that she passed the Hero in the audience, rubbing his eyes.

“What's going on?” He uttered.
“Kara? It's been days.” She understood that the time between leaving his office after the last dose and arriving on the floor was far greater than they realized. They had been working diligently for a long time, long enough for the Hero to have come to. Long enough for them to have some semblance of sense.

She moved up to the stage and took center light while Jeane and Vura took the two on either side. “Today” The painter announced.
“We add three new characters to this gallery!” The audience clapped, except the Hero of course who sat in the front row, worried.
“Hold out our hands, girls.” They cupped their hands. In each a little wet tab fell and made their hands tingle.
“The 'choice' is yours.” He mocked, speaking as if their bodies and minds were not already addled by addiction and fog.

“I'm going to take it.” Vura whispered over to kara.

“W-what!? Why?” She had no idea why the girl would do such a thing. It was not even pleasure, it was just oblivion for the sake of oblivion.

Vura stared down. “I can be something... I can be a masterpiece... I can join Master's brilliant collection. Of course I'm going to-” She lifted the tab to her mouth.

“Stop!” Kara reached out too late as Vura dropped the tab on  her tongue. The warrior's lips quivered and her body shook as if in orgasm. Her heart-halo eyes rolled up. Kara covered her mouth.
“I- I thought there was no more pleasure!?”

“Not from the drug.” The painter rested his hands on her shoulders as she fell to her knees, her body changing in front of the audience into a far more exaggerated form fit for entertainment and not much else. The painting of Vura illuminated and shifted into a dignified, regal portrait of a powerful warrior. It possibly even did her more justice than she had. The Painting shimmered.
“The feeling of a mortal's soul being extinguished is the greatest and last pleasure you can experience.” A pool formed beneath Vura as she rocked on the stage.

“She's alive in the painting, though, right?” Jeane asked.

“Oh, no... I have other uses for the soul. Once it's completed the painting it's just wasted energy keeping it in there so we remove it...” Vura looked to cum again as light was pulled from the picture.

“Scramble it and mix it into my own power.”

“Scramble... What?” Kara blinked.

The Hero gasped. “K-kara! He just r-removed Vura! Don't listen to him!” He could still remember her, even if her existence had been erased. It was a fate worse than death. The only memory of her existed in the Hero. The girls on stage stood confused.

“My latest creation. The Painting is titled 'Vura.'”

Jeane and kara turned. It was quite a nice painting, like all the others. “Don't listen to him, you don't remember what he did, but-”

“Tell them.” The painter taunted.
“Go ahead.”

The Hero thought he made a mistake the moment he described the scene to the horny girls on stage, and his memory of it. They smiled and descended towards him. He felt relieved, thinking that they were going to leave. They could cut their losses but he offered a confused look as they knelt in front of him.
“You'll remember us, right?”

“Wh-what? What are you talking about?” He shook his head and began to reach out. Jean took it first and began to convulse in a literal life-ending orgasm.
“I don't understand!' The hero exclaimed. Kara leaned over his lap as Jeane transformed into a blank waitress in real time, juices fresh from he elimination still running down her thigh.

“A drink, sir?” She asked.

He ignored Jeane. “Kara?” He felt hope as she pushed the drug into his hand.

“We're lost... Honestly, the humiliation is so great and so is the withdrawal. To live with what we surrendered to and to live with the permanent addiction and need and... Comparatively, a sweet quick oblivion where no one will remember our folly, but where you remember us for who we were....” She smiled and held out her tongue.

“End me, Hero.” She begged with her tongue out.

“I wont! We can get through this!” He insisted.
“We can-” The painter dropped a tab on her tongue impatiently.

“You! It was supposed to be her choice!” He shouted, anger giving way to creeping sadness and grief and... Arousal. He stared down at the Fox, a being that no one in the world would know except him. He had his wish, whether he liked it or not. She was going to be his and only his for all of time in a sense.

“Oh, what? Only you will remember.” He grinned as Kara convulsed and drooled and came herself to oblivion in his lap. She even had her hand between her legs as it happened, in true Kara fashion. Ever the one to improve her own pleasure even to the last moment. The Painter stared down at the drug in the Hero's hand.
“Or will you?”