“Wakey wakey, dear~” Modemoiselle coos. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine, thanks! I was having this dream about-“ A big black tail with a pink stripe down the middle whaps against her face. If she said anything else, it turned into useless muffled shouts and blissful moaning.
“Falling under a dashing supervillainess’s spell? Her big, heavy tail smothering your thoughts with impossibly soft fluff? Uselessly trying to resist her intoxicating musk?”
The raven-haired girl on the bed tried to push the tail away, but her hands simply sank inside.
“You’re going to have to be more clever than that, dear. It’s so soft and plush. I know for a fact it’s more comfortable than this pile of straw you call a bed~” Modemoiselle pushes on the bed and listens to the springs creak. “Let yourself sink into the sweet spot.” Her tail coils around the heroine’s head, enveloping it from every angle. “Just five more minutes~”
A flash of light paints every surface in the room. The heroine’s human form shrunk into a black bird, furiously flapping free of the tail and blowing the thick pink musk all throughout the room. “Modemoiselle!” She cawed. “You have to get up pretty early to beat The Raveness!”
“Dear, where were you I woke you up? I hope you won’t be this much of a birdbrain when I’m done with you.” Modemoiselle sighs and swishes her tail. “Empty? Sure. A puppet, dancing to my whims? Obviously. Constantly fawning over her perfect Miss Modemoiselle? Naturally. But not a dipshit. I thought you were the clever one.”
“I was clever enough to disarm that dream bomb you were about to detonate over the city! I pecked the circuit board to pieces myself!” The raven dive-bombed the supervillainess, only to be handily swatted from the air. Wasn’t that tail supposed to be soft?
“Are you sure about that, dear? You didn’t notice anything strange about, say, going out to dinner afterwards?”
“We sent you to prison! How did you know about that?”
“First of all, you sent me to jail. Jail is where you go to await trial. I’d only be sent to prison if I was convicted. Birdbrain. Didn’t you go to law school?” She sticks her tongue out. “Try to think back, dear. This is much less fun if I have to do all the work.” She snaps her fingers.
“I had to drop out when She Who Caws gave me her blessing.” Raveness grumbles. “You don’t get to choose whether you’re the next Night’s Own Wings.”
The end table stretches into one of the many tables on the well-worn hardwood floor. The bed vanishes when Modemoiselle takes the quilt off and swishes it into a checkered tablecloth. She catches the Raveness in a chair as she’s shunted back to human form. “You had the red, if I recall.” Liquid glass pours from the ceiling into a wine glass shape. A blonde waitress with a telltale pink streak dutifully fills it with wine.
“We didn’t disarm the bomb, did we?” She sighs as a lasagna plops from the sky in layers.
The world’s most sarcastic game show bell rings from everywhere and nowhere. “Give the lady a prize! If you get two more right, you’ll win a trip to fabulous Hawaii!”
“So the whole city is under your spell?”
“Ooh, good guess. You did, though sheer luck, manage to disable the dispersal unit and most of the sonic components. So the damage was limited to the handful of people in the clock tower. Which, lucky for me, includes all your little crimefighting friends.”
The restaurant collapses. The floors wipe from wood to glass, revealing the thick trunks of wire and tangle of machinery pulsing with power just beneath their feet. The walls push out into the darkness beyond even what the Night’s Own Wings could see. The floor opens, and five pods rise into view. “See anyone you know?”
Raveness steps up to the sleek, curved-glass pods. She saw her friends- the four other members of the Merci City Victors- with their eyes closed. The digitally hypnotic tones of Modemoiselle’s voice barely leaks through the glass. A steady stream of pink musk trickles into their lungs. Her fists thud harmlessly against the glass. Her raven form’s beak makes a very cute little “tink!” sound.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, dear. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to break the supervillain’s evil machine while your friend’s still in it? Not only do you not know what’ll happen, she just might decide to retaliate.” Modemoiselle swishes her tail against the last pod in the row. Raveness rushes over to see herself, bombarded by the same subliminals and breathing the same hypnotic smoke.
Modemoiselle snaps her fingers. The gas turns from a thin pink wisp to thick, choking clouds. The girl in the pod clenches her thighs. A distinct wet spot develops on her suit and the other girl follows close behind. They moan in sweet, blissful unison~
The music gets louder. Raveness would almost be able to hear it through the glass if it wasn’t pulsing through her head. The most vapid, bubbly pop music you could imagine. Cancelling out any sort of intelligent thought like how acids turn bases into simple, inert water. Modemoiselle’s tail swishes to support her birdbrain’s chin, and she happily sinks into it. Every now and again, she moans and struggles, but how do you beat an enemy that’s in your brain and armed with an orgasm button? Especially one with such a lovely, soft tail. And who smells so wonderful. And who has such an amazing voice. The kind of voice you could just float on forever.
“That’s better. You know, you never struck me as a bird. I always thought you’d be happier as something more… useful.” She snaps her fingers. The pod lights up with the orange glow and the telltale whir of stolen genetic technology. Raveness, of course, was far too busy emptily snuggling into the softest tail anyone’s ever felt.
Raveness’s body slowly slips into light again, but no feathers form. No beak pierces the light. She grows a long, dopey muzzle, the better to cuddle into Miss Modemoiselle’s tail with. Her short black hair poofs and bounces into a big, healthy black bouffant with a pink swirl coiling into the middle. Pink circuitry pokes into her brown eyes and makes them big, bright, and brainwashed! Miss Modemoiselle looks so much better through pony eyes than silly human or bird ones! Golden brown fur washes over her body and seal off her hands and feet into silly, soft hooves. Much better for hugging Miss with and giving her rides! A big ol’ black and pink tail with countless bouncy curls springs from the base of her spine.
“You make an awfully pretty pony, dear. I’ve outdone myself~” Modemoiselle coos, watching her musk empty out the rest of her newest pet’s head.
“What else would I be, Miss?” She snuggles into the tail, eyelids heavy but determined to admire her Miss as much as possible. “I don’t know what I’d do if I wasn’t your pop star pony!” She lazily swishes her tail while the music in her head becomes the quiet background to her thoughts. Always there to remind her who she belonged to and what she loved to do more than anything.
“And what does that entail, dear~?” Modemoiselle teased.
“It means I get up on stage with all my friends and we all listen to the music and put on the best show we can! We all loooove performing for you!” She eagerly wags her pony tail. Her flanks proudly display her purpose in life- a microphone in front of her Miss’s circuit heart logo.
“Perfect.” Modemoiselle rewards her pretty pony with a kiss on the forehead. Her big pink eyes flutter shut.
Back in the real world, a pod opens, letting pink fog spill out onto the ground. A ponygirl with a delicious golden brown coat, freshly grown hair, and absolutely no clothes to hide her horse cock climbs out.
“Wakey wakey, dear~” Modemoiselle coos. “How’d you sleep?”