Jasmine nods as regally as she can with a horny young woman slurping at her pussy.

"It complicates matters, that your host is not one of us, but if she is as loyal as you say, then perhaps we will be able to work around that."

Mother Superior, we are concerned that other eyes are already upon Christa. The giant eyeball swivels onto Aire. What have you seen, Mistress?

Is she more worried about not informing this cult about Lavich, or about Lavich deciding she feels vengeful about it if she does? Well, Rele is apparently about as scary as this cell of the Black Eyes gets, and Aire is confident in her ability to escape from her if Rele isn't within immediate view. On the other hand, she isn't entirely confident Lavich doesn't have some way to destroy her soul. And she doesn't think Lavich is particularly interested beyond finding Christa fun to toy with. No, telling this cult only to have them decide they know better than her before attacking Lavich seems like the most likely outcome of giving them the information, and the most likely outcome of not is nothing at all.

Well, if they're as committed to Aire's safety as they say they are, they probably won't even blame her for keeping Lavich's secrets.

Hints of a tentacle cult through Christa's telepathy, although no suggestion that it was large or organized enough to be considered competition rather than simply an oddity some small number of individuals were participating in. Vague hints where one person thought of another who had hinted vaguely at being hinted at in turn of demon worship.

The massive eyeball nods, and says nothing more. She merely bows to Aire before striding off toward one of the girlpiles in the corner of the room, tentacles caressing flesh as she seems to speak with one of the young women there.

Jasmine is also satisfied with Aire's answer, for the moment. In her thoughts it is clear that Aire is welcome to partake of anyone or anything in the orgy chamber, including Jasmine herself. To relax and make herself at home. She also says this aloud.

Well, the obvious things out of the way, Aire's mind turns, as it always does, to her favorite thing. 

Aire allows herself to ejaculate onto and into those who are worshipping at her cock, and then, while they lap up her cum and begin to suck her towards another orgasm, she moves on to the next order of business.

Aire thinks she would like to allow more members of the cult to partake in the Unity. Jasmine, as the Mother Superior, has right of first refusal.

Christa will need to be taken care of while Aire is away from her. She will be tired, and perhaps confused, but if someone is willing to pleasure her gently she will relax into being cared for. When Aire is finished with her revelry, she will return to Christa as her host.

Jasmine sends a pair of girls from a different corner of the room over to receive and hold and cuddle and take care of Christa while Aire is blessing the faithful.

Jasmine is hungry at the prospect of being inside Aire. Of cumming her brains out and losing herself to pleasure in a way that is worthy of awe rather than merely undignified. Also honored, the thought slightly belated.

But it is ultimately up to Aire's whim. All of this nubile flesh and sapphic lust is Aire's to play with as she pleases.

She wants to start with their leader. 

So she does. 

Aire's flesh feels good as it stretches over Jasmine's. And then, Jasmine is standing there in someone else's body, the air ghosting past her skin enough to make her shiver with pleasure.

And her new cock emerges from its sheathe on its own, entirely without her input. Just that feels good, driving a spike of lust into her thoughts, a spike that's accompanied by thoughts of using her new cock. Suddenly every mouth is something that could be wrapped around her cock, every pussy something she could thrust into, every pair of breasts something she could spray her cum onto.

She has control of their body, to use as she sees fit.

Jasmine's mind is strong. She has nothing to fear from throwing herself headfirst into pleasure as much as she wills.

So Jasmine reaches down to wrap her hand around her new cock and squeeze.

Ooh.

That feels.

Better than she's used to.

She grabs the girl who had been licking her out a bit ago and guides her lips to her cockhead.

It feels so good. Better than she remembers from her Pseudo Penis, before she merged with a Moulder. She thrusts forward as her cock slips into and then further and further down the girl's throat.

It's only a few dozen thrusts before she's cumming down the girl's throat. The orgasm hits her mind like a hammer, good enough to be the best she's ever felt. She keeps her cock inserted to the root as it pulses and twitches in spurting orgasm. And it keeps going. And going. And going. 

Finally, it ends.

In the aftermath, there is only one thought in her mind.

More.

And for a time she luxuriates in the fact that there's always another mouth to wrap around her cock.

But eventually that stops feeling like enough, and then her ever-building desire for more triggers her to take all those girls who just sucked her off, bend them over, and fuck their pussies full of cum one by one. Some have parasites of various kinds altering the experience, and the last has a Pseudo Penis. She fucks that one's ass instead. And it's tight, and good, and different enough that that wakes a hunger in her, and she goes back to all of the others to fuck their asses too.

But then, after all of that, she's left standing there, still wanting more.

And then she remembers Rele. Rele, with her tentacle pussy that always felt so good. She wants to feel that. She needs it.

But Rele isn't there. She wants that, she needs it, and she can't have it. 

She looks around to find another pussy. It isn't as nice. It isn't what she wants.

And it isn't enough, it's nowhere near enough.

She learns that if she thrusts just right she can make sure her orgasm lasts as long as she wants. And then if she's quick enough, she can keep her orgasm going with her hands while she finds the next hole to fuck full of cum. Her orgasm goes on, and on, and on until the pleasure becomes too much and she falls, not unconscious, but temporarily insensate.

She is not satisfied, not fully, but it does, finally, feel like enough.

And Aire finds a new host. This time, the first worshipper of her cock, the one who seemed to enjoy it the most.

The Mother Superior already fucked her. She's already slick with cum and sweat as Mistress flows over her.

And then she's standing just where she once was, in a new body. A delightfully sensitive body.

So sensitive that, even before her cock releases itself from its sheathe, she's already feeling needy, just from occupying it.

And once her cock is out, the new sensation is overwhelming. She's never had a Pseudo Penis. The feeling is entirely new to her. Her lust overflows, and she frantically strokes herself, too distracted by the sensations to do anything so complex and requiring as many individual steps as getting someone to help her with it. 

And then one of the other cultists who spent their time worshipping Mistress's divine phallus is there, and her tongue is lapping against her cockhead, and she's cumming. 

More of the cultists crowd close and join in on the licking. Her orgasm keeps going. Every time she thinks it might taper off, a tongue gently swirls around her cockhead, or a cultist asks her to bless them with her divine seed, and it just doesn't stop. Of course this is a divine phallus and not a penis. She knew already but now she understands in her bones. Only something divine could feel this good.

The extraordinary pleasure of her orgasm leaves her tired when finally it ends. She falls into a deep, restful sleep inside Mistress's cradling divinity.

As Aire frees herself from her latest hosts and moves off to find another, the cultists who were just lapping up her cum off her cock almost immediately fall into a tangle of limbs as their need to pleasure themselves and each-other stops battling with their need to serve their mistress.

And Aire has an idea.

She flows onto one of them. Suddenly finding herself with a cock, the cultist does the obvious thing and grabs for one of her compatriots. Her target spreads her legs obligingly for her, and soon she's thrusting herself to blissful orgasm.

Just after that finishes, Aire moves on to another cultist. And another after that. Until every cultist in that pile has gotten a turn with Aire. Even after Aire's finished and moves on, the group of them is still lovingly entangled, a veritable nest of limbs as they all work to ensure they're all enjoying themselves.

Aire moves on to another potential host, this one clearly lowly placed and new to the cult by her youth. She’s in the middle of pleasuring another cultist who looks to be a few years her senior when Aire makes her offer. She rolls up and off the woman she’s licking until she’s leaning back against an unoccupied corner of cushions. She accepts, and before she can move from her position, Aire is upon her, her form subsumed by Aire's, her body within pleasured and her mind assaulted by Aire's Seals and telepathic tentacles.

She’s so excited when Mistress offers to let her participate in the Unity. Her! So new to the cult, so lowly placed! When she’s finished flowing into her new form, she’s leaning back and reclining among cushions.

Huh. She. She feels different. Good. Like she’s on top of the world. She’s. She’s part of the Unity, right now. She’s important, right now. If she asks, people will do what she says. It feels good. So good. So. Fucking. Good.

Her cock slips from its sheathe and she ejaculates. Spurt after spurt of ejaculate shoots out over her body, much of it with enough force to arc over her head or strike her face. When a rope of Mistress’s divine seed strikes her lips, her tongue darts out to lick it up.

It tastes good, like a mix between sweet berries and cream. She gathers it up from where it strikes her body with her hands and then licks them clean. Her ongoing ejaculation gets better with every lick. It’s a beautiful cycle. She licks and she spurts and then she has more to lick up.

More. More. Always more. More pleasure. More spurting.

Nobody could possibly blame her or look down on her for being overcome by Mistress’s divine nature. It’s only to be expected, for one as new to the cult as her.

She can cum as much as she wants.

So she does.

This one didn't even manage to notice as they were overwhelmed, they just wallowed in the pleasure until all that was left of them was a lust-driven animal.

Aire approves.

And off she goes, flowing from one host to another, fucking the night away.

Annabelle wakes up alone.

She's concerned, as she looks around her apartment and sees no sign that Christa ever came home. It feels lonely, after the pleasure they shared, to suddenly not have her there.

It's not a large worry. Not yet. Annabelle heard from some of the other Sisters that Christa had gone off with a boy.

Annabelle suspects that Christa spent the night with the boy in question. That's certainly what the rumors sounded like. Where else would she be?

Annabelle tries not to be jealous as she dresses for the day. And it isn't, really, jealousy, she thinks with a blush. Or if it is, she isn't sure if she's jealous of the boy or of Christa. A lot of the new carnal cravings she's been feeling for the last few days are quiet, so what she's feeling is mostly anxiety that something unexpected means something is wrong.

Annabelle walks to Library Gemini alone.

She keeps telling herself to stop worrying. She keeps telling herself that she's happy for her friend getting to have fun with a cute boy. Though she'd be happier if it felt like Christa had forgotten her in her excitement. No, that's silly, Christa wouldn't just forget her.

Annabelle stops in the park outside the twin castles, at the fork between the girls' path and the boys' path.

If Christa didn't come home, she's probably still with the boy, right? So Annabelle might find her if she goes looking on the boy's side? But she doesn't know which boy she's looking for.

Annabelle jolts. There's only one boy it could be, though. Annabelle remembers Christa chatting about her stealthcraft exercise. That's right! They were going to escape from a horny dragon! The boy she's with must be the dragon's rider! He was part of the exercise.

Hesitantly, Annabelle starts walking down the path to the castle of feminine learning. If the boy was part of that exercise, then surely Miss Lavich will be able to tell Annabelle his name? Yeah.

Or... she could just go to her scheduled session and put it out of her mind. Imagine if Christa showed up for that an Annabelle was off elsewhere asking about Christa's date!

Annabelle hugs herself and pouts.

She'll check, but if Christa isn't there, there's no way she'll be able to concentrate.

Annabelle goes to her usual session.

Christa isn't there.

She manages to make herself wait a whole two minutes before the knawing worry gets to her.

Annabelle slips out and makes her way through the castle to the studio where the stealthcraft students meet.

Christa isn't in the studio either.

But the towering figure of Miss Lavich is, as are most of her other students. She's allowing the students to talk amongst themselves, waiting until the scheduled time to begin the review.

She catches the meek form of Annabelle staring wide-eyed from the studio entrance and turns to regard the little waif. Lavich smiles inwardly as the girl's eyes go even wider and she lets out a little squeak when Lavich glides over to her.

"Hello, dear. Are you lost?"

     "I... don't think so? You're, um, Miss Lavich, right?"

"Indeed I am, dear. What might I do for you?"

     "Um, I was, um, wondering if you could tell me the boys name? The dragon-rider from yesterday's exercise, I mean? That boy?"

"Now why would a girl who wasn't there want to know that? Perhaps I could tell you, if you have a compelling reason."

     "P-Please, Miss. It's my friend, Christa. We live together, and she didn't come home last night, and she's not here, isn't she supposed to be? I heard she went on a date with the dragon-rider from your stealthcraft exercise. I just want to find him so I can find Christa."

Lavich pauses for a long moment. Cute little Christa is indeed late. Perhaps Lavich's whimsical choice of dragoon-trainee has led to something interesting happening. How fun.

"Very well, dear. The boy you're looking for is Alard Drystan. He looks like this."

Lavich produces a small image of the boy on the palm of her hand, only to smirk inwardly as Annabelle goes white.

     "D-Drystan? Like..."

"I couldn't possibly say." Because not saying is more amusing. "Is that all you needed, dear?"

The little waif nods and flees. Lavich glides back over to her students, musing that perhaps it would be entertaining to involve herself, if something untoward has happened to the delicious little creampuff. Lavich certainly wouldn't mind having another taste of that cutie.

Annabelle is halfway to the castle of masculine learning before she realizes where she's seen that face before.

Cello boy! No wonder Christa got so distracted she forgot to check in. Annabelle would probably have done the same, if she found out the shy musician they'd listened to was a dragon-rider and a prince. If the name isn't a coincidence. Annabelle is more jealous now, but in the fun way where she can't wait to hear all about it.

It's a relief, having an explanation.

Still, she's come this far. Annabelle might as well keep going, to remind Christa she's late for her stealthcraft review if nothing else.

Annabelle enters the boys' castle and... probably the music hall is the best place to start looking.

Indeed.

There he is, playing his cello just like before.

He doesn't look very princely. Mostly he just seems quietly lost in thought while his hands move across his instrument on raw reflex.

No sign of Christa here, either.

     "Excuse me, your-  Excuse me?"

Alard's hands slowly stop playing as he blinks and looks up. Then he blinks again. "...hi?"

     "I'm sorry to interrupt, but. I'm Annabelle. Christa's roommate? Is she with you? I haven't seen her since yesterday."

"Oh." Alard gives her an apologetic and slightly embarrassed smile. "We had dinner and um. But she left. Vanished, after we, um, fell asleep. I woke up and she was gone. She... didn't go home?"

    "No!" Annabelle's relief crumbles into entirely new reams of dread. "She never came home and she didn't show up for her stealthcraft review either! Oh no, oh no."

"You think... something happened to her?"

     "I don't know! Where could she be?"

Alard's next thought is one he wants to keep to himself, but he's not unmoved by Annabelle's concern, so he shares it. "Maybe she just... needed some time alone."

     "W-Why would she need time alone?"

Alard has said too much. "No reason."

     Annabelle looks at him with new alarm. "Did you do something...?"

"It's not like that, really..."

     "What's it like, then?"

Alard shakes his head and looks away. "I shouldn't say. She can tell you herself."

     "No she can't! I can't find her!"

"Oh, right..."

Alard and Annabelle stare at each other in heavy silence for several long moments.

A floating eyeball in the corner of the music hall slips out the window before shooting upward. It weaves between a set of decorative crenellations before flying up to a shadowed figure tucked into the shadow where two rooftops meet.

The figure, a tentacled eye for a head, with a mostly nude woman's body from the neck down, spreads her legs as the eyeball approaches. It flies between her legs, stops for a moment, then punches through her labia and into her vaginal canal, where it quickly migrates up to her womb to rejoin the parasite flesh that lives there.

Rele has a problem.

It is fortuitous, that the faithful succeeded in distracting Aire long enough for Rele to infiltrate Library Gemini. She now has the official dossiers on all of the regular instructors as well as the top students. She now knows who she needs to watch, to close the gaps in their intelligence.

It is more of a mixed blessing, that the faithful succeeded in distracting Aire long enough for Christa's absence to be noted. Aire expressed a desire to quietly remove Christa from society, but unfortunately Rele has just witnessed the 'quiet' window close on them. The roommate and the dragon-rider cannot be silenced without rousing even greater suspicion. However, their involvement actually provides an excellent opportunity to accomplish several goals at once. That course of action will be fraught, though it would both protect Aire while also striking a blow against their enemies.

Most of the pieces of the necessary narrative are already in place. With only a few small pieces of false evidence, Rele can frame Alard for Christa's murder.

It is an auspicious day for chaos, this day.

While cultists and demons plot, dire news has arrived from the Bell Kingdom via Scrying pair.

News of a terrible threat brewing in the Tentacled lands, in the Pink. A threat that consumes all beings into itself. The Red Queen.

The word spreads first from official sources, and then by rumor, begetting much speculation and idle chatter.