Chapter Text
Blue.
There was something about the colour blue.
He wasn’t quite sure why; he wasn’t even sure when, but it captivated him.
Every shade was a cooling rainbow that laid rest to his mind. From the shimmering feathers of the bluebirds to the deepest hues amidst the sprawling sky. Everywhere he looked was blue.
Blue, blue, blue.
Utterly consuming blue.
And Pure Vanilla was perhaps a tad too obsessed than normal.
Most of it began on one mysterious day that rang out in his memories. Back when he was merely Healer Cookie, he had been gathering some herbs for the villagers, pushing further than ever before in a bid for more.
That was when he stumbled across a mysterious crystal. One, a deep translucent sky blue hue. Thinking on it now, it must have been a fragment of his Soul Jam. What else could it have been after all? As the mere touch of it pulled him into a transient sleep.
One so deep that Black Raisin told him he went missing for a week, only to find his comatose body untouched and unchanged. It was as if only a spec of time had passed to his body. A week to the villagers…
…And decades to Pure Vanilla.
It was a feeling he couldn’t quite get off his chest, keeping his thoughts to himself and guarded. Something had changed within him that day, something deep and aching. Leaving him adrift for many days since then, puppetering his own body in a world where nothing felt quite real.
Who was he?
Even after regaining his memories, such a strange question would persist.
And his adoration for that colour only grew.
“Mmph!- Ahh…” Alone in his room, curtains blacked out and soundproofed barriers held. The king would indulge himself surrounded by the source of his adoration, his obsession. Robe and leotard alike were discarded for cerulean lingerie, itchy lace rubbing against his warm dough as it wrapped itself like a gift ribbon for a receiver unknown.
Quills of bluebird feathers, ink shaded in deepest midnight hues. Baby blue towels, soft and ready. Soaps and teas infused with gentle butterfly peas. Some sapphire piercings in three pieces sat in a drawer unused. Yet none at all could hold a candle to the object of his highest devotion.
Soft moans muffled throughout the room, the wet sucks and slaps of his lips overtaking any ounce left of his mind. A blue dildo, deep from the recesses of a warm dream. Glitter like starlight speckled at the tip, a dark navy that gradiented towards a powder blue.
Peppered by kitten licks and deep kisses, he adored it dearly. Serving it as if it were an idol of worship, pressing it deep into his throat for hours at a time. Remaining still, practised as he warmed it for an unknown purpose. It settled well; whatever gag reflex he once had was all but gone upon his reawakening.
Like a key for a missing lock, it sat perfectly in place as part of his mouth. Yet that is where it would remain. “Mmph!... Ngh.” Even as his mouth protested and his body betrayed him. Searching for relief towards sacred grounds.
Pure Vanilla was chaste, an oath once sworn to the Witches above. For his duty was to come above all and to their gift of life granted to him. He could not dilute himself in lust, a dangerous consuming pit for one like him. Not all of his fellow Ancients followed this ruling; he was the odd one out in a sense. Some had children, some partook in their own bodily desires. As once ever so bluntly put by Hollyberry. ‘I swear, you’re the only one here who hasn’t gotten laid.’
Yet some all-consuming shame filled him at the thought, even as he ground his desperate pussy against the corner of a table, the handle of his staff or even against the length of the dildo itself. While his mouth was free ground for exploration and brief pleasures, he could never allow himself ever to breach inside. Let alone properly cum, leaving him to soak in translucent pools left by the pathetic squirting he allowed himself to release.
Practically ripping away the dildo from his throat, his mind returned to function as he scrambled to clasp his hands together. “Witches, forgive me. Witches, f-forgive mee!-” Legs trembling, even such a sacred act reduced him to a debauched animal as his panties became soaked by the torrent between his legs.
Even the act of prayer had become erotic in the back of his mind.
“I’m… not a sadist, am I?...” He questioned aloud to himself with panted breaths. But there was no answer to be found, only a cold shower plagued with doubts. No one was to know of this decrepit act. And yet…
Some days, he felt as if he was being watched through them.
Unseen eyes peering out of the shadows of his room, gone at the first sign of light.
And that feeling never quite went away.
Yet it only stirred him further, practically putting on a display for his non-existent audience, drooling over that rubber cock more than he needed to. Squeezing his perked nipples each time his hips rolled to simulate his clit.
It felt good, disgustingly so.
Haunting him even on their journey to Beast-Yeast. Far away from his provocative acts and displays, that feeling remained. Watching… Waiting…
Blue eyes.
Blue lips.
Blue Beast.
“Are you alright, Pure Vanilla?” White Lily pulled him from his thoughts, his own nails having dug into his legs. “You look bothered, is it… Shadow Milk?”
The Beast of Deciet, wielder of half his Soul Jam. He was to be feared, no doubt about it. His way of worming into people's minds, seeding distrust and lies with ease, would spread utter chaos if he were to escape to the rest of Earthbread.
He had to be stopped, no matter the cost. Yet Pure Vanilla had found himself distracted. Disturbed even as of late. So many beautiful blues, he couldn’t take his eyes off him. Shadow Milk, he was ashamed to admit, was perhaps the most beautiful cookie he had ever seen.
…Even with that obnoxious smile on his face.
“I am alright, Lily.” He forced a smile. Though he knew he could not hide everything from her. “Lately, since stepping into Beast-Yeast, I’ve been having peculiar dreams. Dreams of my childhood, of my journeys that don’t feel quite right… They’ve just been leaving me more tired than usual.”
Though that was not all of them, to be exact. Fragments of memory, not quite his yet, all so familiar, surfaced in his dreams. Like light dappled from glass, they poured in warmth, love. Amidst the fray was the colour blue. It smiled at him, kissing him on the forehead. He was drawn to it, following every step, heart beating in fervour.
And those dreams would turn wet, blue, pressing him against bedsheets. Kissing him, stretching him, fucking him-
Then he would simply wake up, warm in the body and ashamed at himself.
“Sounds like he’s invading your dreams…” She murmured, concern plastered across her face. “Please, pay them no mind. He’s just trying to manipulate you again.”
“I know…” And that was the worst part of it. He knew, she knew, the kids knew. Of his tricks, the mind games, the manipulation. And he had felt himself falling for it, chasing after that shade of blue, night and night again as they drew ever closer to that Spire.
Was he even ready? Even if they found the ritual, could he trust himself with it?
…
Pure Vanilla sighed, pushing himself up from their little camp. “I’m going to take a walk, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He was cautious not to alert the slumbering children as White Lily watched on with worry.
“Alright… But I’ll come looking for you if you take too long.” She promised.
And with that, Pure Vanilla left on his stroll. Taking in the odd wonders of this alien land to steel his nerves. If only he could wrest better control of his mind, the feeling of always being watched, never leaving his side.
To a tune of gentle humming, he sang, relaxing his heart as he manoeuvred through branches. Letting them brush against his shoulders until he came to an abrupt stop. Quiet hissing tickled against his ear, freezing him in place as the long body of a black snake with deep azure eyes slithered around his neck.
“Sssuch a sweet song,” it hissed, tongue flickering in his ear. “It remindsss me of the pretty bluebirdsss that used to perch here. Sssuch a shame they sssing no more,” the snake let out a low, devious chuckle.
It left no doubt about the fate of those poor birds. “Your words are kind… But I must ask that you leave my neck.”
“Ssso sour… Whose to say I shall sssnap it? Do you not trust a sssnake?” It tutted at him, creating a gnawing sense of guilt for his suspicions. “Don’t be so gloomy. It’s only natural to be suspicious of a sssnake…”
“I-”
The tail pressed against his lips, sushing him with another hiss. “Now, now. I came with a gift! You may as well quiet down now and listen to the ssstory I bring. A very special ssstory… A love ssstory…”
Once there were two children. One a child of the sun, and the other a child of the moon.
Separated as they were by night and day, their hearts could not part.
For their union, they would depart.
Unto the twilight, unto the dawn.
But it would never last for long, for fate would always drag them apart.
And so, the moon child would devise a plan.
To ascend beyond the skies, to live amongst the cosmos forever.
For this, the moon child bit into the forbidden truth.
To attain knowledge beyond the skies, beyond the earth.
And the heavens took note.
'Twas a betrayal of their kin; they would be punished, no doubt.
But none could expect the depravity such an act took.
For the precious child of the sun would be looked to instead.
A display to one and all, the consequences of love.
The sun child would burn away, leaving nought behind.
And thus the moon child remained, cast away.
Eternally alone.
“Ssso… What do you think?” It grinned in twisted pleasure, running its fangs against his cheek as the tail slipped away.
Pure Vanilla tightened his fists, scrunching up his robes. “It’s a very sad tale… Neither of them deserved such a harsh punishment for following their hearts. But, why share it with me?” He held suspicions firm to his chest, in this land of tricks, even the Beast could be disguised as a tick.
“Fairy tales are often the grandest liesss of all. A truth dipped so deep in sssugary sweet deceit. Tell me, is this story real?” Those azure eyes stared deeply into his own, an endless ocean all-consuming.
The snake let out one more twisted chuckle, running its tongue up his cheek. Lapping up the tears he had unknowingly shed. “Ohh dear, do not cry, my sssweet. It’s hard, isn’t it? Here…” Unculing its tail before him sat an apple shaded by a blue hue.
“An apple?” He questioned the snake, suspicion only rising with every moment.
“Yesss, an apple of joy. A single bite, and happiness eternal shall bloom in your heart.”
It fell into his hands, heavy in weight and smooth to the touch. “...You sound as though you serve the Beast of Sloth. Yet in this domain of lies, you must excuse me for not believing your words.”
The snake hissed deep inside his ear. “Whose to sssay so? I could be her servant or hisss. They are indisguisable, the sssweetest lie brings such intoxicating joy. So then, shall you deny a poor snake's gift?”
“I am afraid so,” Pure Vanilla firmly replied, remaining steadfast as he grasped the snake around the back of its neck. The apple fell as he freed his hands, bursting into pieces as maggots writhed in the grass. He let out a sharp gasp, practically throwing the snake to the side before bolting back where he came from.
Alas, the twisting forest had little direction to it; from where he had come to where he had travelled melded into one. “How long has it been?” He murmured to himself, holding his hand high to press his palm against the moon in the eternal night sky. It had not moved since they arrived, not even an inch.
With a deep sigh, he leaned against a nearby tree, palming his aching foot, run raw by the treacherous floor. His robes had torn, thorns slicing through and snatching the soft cotton. He had very nearly lost his cape a few times, branches diving and grabbing at him as he scurried through the growth. The same could not be said of his hat, lost somewhere in the thicket now, a sorrowful outcome.
To try to traverse the forest in a frightful state would only serve to confuse him further. He had to regain his composure, retrace his steps-
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars
…A gentle voice echoed out in song—a siren's call.
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet were her eyes
Warmer than May, her tender sighs
Love was ours
Ours, a love I held tightly
Feeling the rapture grow
Like a flame burning brightly
But when she left gone was the glow of-
Blue velvet
But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm a memory
Through the years
And I still can see blue velvet through my tears
She wore blue velvet
But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm a memory
Through the years
And I still can see blue velvet through my tears
There, sitting by a riverbank amidst the swaying willows and sleeping blooms, sat a lady, dressed in hues of azure. She was gorgeous, with light blue hair verging on white, glowing beneath the bath of moonlight. And Pure Vanilla could do nought but stare, frozen beneath the intense pulse of his heart.
Yet as his staff blinked in sync with his eyes, the lady vanished. Leaving nothing behind. “...Was I seeing things?” He pondered to himself, stepping towards the bank.
“Enjoying the sights, sir?”
“Ah!” Pure Vanilla practically lept into the air in shock, feeling the cooling embrace of the woman’s arms drape across his shoulders. “M-My apologies, I did not mean to intrude-” His words were whisped away by the soft palm of her hand.
She let out a laugh, her voice trickling like sweet honey. “Not to worry, sweetheart, if anything, guests are welcome. It gets dreadfully boring out here.” As she spoke, her ample chest pushed plushly against him. A sensation he tried to ignore. “Did you like it? My song?”
“Yes, it drew me in, as you can see. But… why is a lady such as yourself out alone here? Are the forests not brimming with danger?” He held her in equal suspicion to the snake from earlier, yet there were some few other cookies that did still live in his realm. He did not want to throw out accusatory statements.
She pouted, deep blue lips pressing against each other as her dusted cheeks puffed up. “My old father is a stubborn one. Said we’ve been living here for generations, and we’ll stay even if it kills us. Or I suppose in my case… turn us blue. The Beast’s realm is a strange one… I can barely trust my own reflection most mornings. But enough about that! Guests are a rarity, you’ll have to forgive me for indulging!”
At the pinnacle of her excitement, those soft lips of hers lightly pecked his cheek, leaving her mark behind in lipstick. “Ohh! Your robes are so torn! Here, let me fix them up for you, sweetheart!” Her voice cooed as she pulled him over to sit on a log. Her words and actions were far too genuine, too sweet.
It was no wonder he would be drawn in so fast, ignorant of that shadow she cast.
“So what brings a handsome gentleman such as yourself to these dark woods?” She asked while fiddling around with a needle and thread.
Her ease of compliments flustered him, but he attempted to retain a neutral face. “Business would be one way of putting it. I am on a journey with my friends to find a spell to seal away an ancient evil… It shall be an arduous one, but I am gladder than ever that they’ll be by my side.” Pure Vanilla beamed with joy, radiating hope with every word.
So much so, the poor lady covered her eyes. “So blinding… Feels like I’m staring directly into the sun… Ahh, the sun. We don’t get it much here,” she ruminated with a hum.
“Nor does the moon move, it seems. Has it always remained above the spire like that?”
“As far as I can remember, yes. After it lost the sun, it had no way of setting…” She slowed, a distant longing welled with grief enveloping her gaze. Her mind pulled elsewhere, memories of a past he did not wish to pry into. “Oh my, I didn’t even introduce myself! You may call me Lady Azure.”
“That is true, my lady. I’m Pure Vanilla Cookie, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He so warmly smiled at her as she got back to work on his robes, a comfortable silence settling between them.
A soft hum emanated from the lady as skilled hands made quick work of his robes, leaving no trace of a stitch behind. “You’re an amazing seamstress, my lady. Do you always sing while you work? If so, you must be quite the busy one.”
“It does keep the mind steady. What about you? Do you sing, sweetheart?”
“At times, yes. To the birds and little lambs most of all, but never quite as lyrical as yours. Did you come up with those yourself? It sounds like a love song.” He did not miss the light purple shade that dusted across her cheeks at such a mention.
She cleared her throat, hiding her fluster. “Uh, perhaps… You could say it’s a song for someone else. Someone I lost a long time ago.”
“A lost love?”
“Mhm… Have you ever loved someone, Pure Vanilla? As in, romantically.”
A difficult question to ask, let alone answer. He closed his eyes in thought, even despite knowing the answers he sought. “Hmm… Perhaps. There was once a time in my youth when my heart pulsed for someone else.” His fingers rested against the low thrum of his Soul Jam, a sigh caught in his throat. “Even now, I still tend to the flowers they adored. Perhaps that piece of love never left me, even as we sit now.”
To dig deeper into his heart, a withered bloom sat. Planted by a figure unknown, lost amidst the storm of memory, never to be found. Yet it persisted even so, feeding off his love till he crumbled.
“Is that so?...” Lady Azure sounded almost disappointed; a light bitterness laced the undertones of her voice. “I suppose that’s not so different from my case, he adored flowers quite a bit too.”
“A gardener?”
“Hm, well, he did insult my garden the first time around.” Such a comment earned her a light puff of laughter. “But he was warm, his touch, his smile… Couldn’t help but forgive him with all of that.”
That bitterness melted away into something far sweeter, bittersweet to put it aptly. He knew far too well this story did not hold a happy ending after all. “You look troubled, worried over little old me? I’ve yet to even finish my story.”
“Yes, but I feel your sorrows as though they were my own… To lose someone so precious… It’s…” His voice trailed away, caught in the midst of faces, near endless, pleading, crying out for their king.
But amongst that sea of grief, her cold hands cupped his own. That warmth he carried spread out onto her palms, just as hers refreshed the clammy heat. “If you worry for me so, then hold me close.” A red-hot flush clambered across his skin, his grip tightening as his heart beat and bled.
“We loved each other dearly, it was all we ever needed… Until one day, the Witches took him away. Ever since, I’ve questioned what it even means to love again. Fleeting and foolish, it truly brings out the stupid in us all.” With every word, her presence crept closer.
“The way our hearts flutter, cheeks flush, and our bodies burn. Even our bodies understand the sweet call of love before we even realise it, isn’t that right, Pure Vanilla?” His heart skipped a beat, unable to break away from her approach.
Lady Azure had all but caged him in, one of her hands freeing itself to cup his cheek as she leaned to practically sit on his lap. “M-My Lady…” He all but stammered, lost in the thrall of her deep eyes.
Beyond the pinprick of a sweetened crush, this was overwhelming. Burning away at his very soul. Was this truly love?
“Oh… Sweet baby, are you blushing over me?” She cooed, her touch a haven from that consuming warmth that flushed across his skin. Lady Azure was far too close, her breath a wisp away from his lips, her intoxicatingly sweet perfume wrapping him around her finger. “Hehe, so cute… I could just eat you up.”
The tart tang of blueberries bloomed against his tongue, sickenly sweet as her lips smothered his. A soft gasp slipped through the cracks before being sealed by her kiss. His body burned as she ate away at him, sinking deeper into her touch. Parting at her demands, letting her entwine and overwhelm-
“Mph!”
No, this was lust. A decrepit hollow feeling, one he had tried to flush out to little avail. The devil had seduced him with honied words and soft skin. Sucking away at his purity with that damnable tongue of hers. A temptation oft warned by those who followed the Witches.
He pushed against her, ignoring the soft, pillowy pull of her chest as an elongated tongue dragged itself from his mouth. A trail continuing to connect them as she licked it up for all it was worth. “Too soon? That’s alright, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.”
Pure Vanilla turned his head away, slipping away from her grasp with trembling legs. “No, my lady, I would rather not. I…” Her lipstick burned at his lips. Burning for more. A temptation most unholy, he did all he could to ignore.
Yet she was not one to give up too easily, already sunken so deep into her trap.
She pulled away the ribbon at her neck, and her dress fell, pooling around her ankles as his gaze widened in shock. She wore nothing beneath. Her supple breasts had sprung free of their confines, nipples puffy and pierced by golden barbells. And were he to drift his gaze lower, plush rolls of dough settled around her rounded hips and stomach, he dared not look further beyond that.
“M-My lady! This is far too inappropriate!” Yet he could not turn away.
Not from the way she gently palmed at her chest, a warm hum, the early trails of a love song emanating from her painted lips. “Don’t you like what you see? Come now… Return to me, my dear dove.”
Her words attuned to the depths of his mind. Words ringing, calling out to something, someone.
To a life long gone, long forgotten by all but one.
Shadow Milk opened her arms, wide and welcoming. A hole carved deep in the centre of her chest, where the sanguine tongue of a snake slithered through, curling itself around her waist.
“Come back,” she called to him once more.
Desperate. Hurried. Hungry.
…
And so he ran.
With little direction or thought. A butterfly twisting itself in an entangled web.
A web he had unknowingly trapped himself in a long time ago.
With a short gasp, he found himself stumbling over thick, entangled roots. Crashing through the branches of a long-abandoned hedge before stumbling out into a most disturbing sight. It would appear he had found a garden lost to time, shadowed by the spire and left to rot by its master’s absence.
It was an eerie sight, nature itself had reclaimed these grounds, shattering through any cookie-made structures. Practically eating the old paths alive amidst their dying breaths.
Pure Vanilla shivered. Death stalked these grounds, a graveyard lost to time and care. Even so, he could not help but fall to his knees for a time, rasping for breath against the cold ground.
There was something familiar about it all. Be it the anxiety and exhaustion infecting his mind or a reminder of what once was. His garden was long lost to the forces of the dark. What grew now would never be the same.
In that way, he could feel their pain, their sorrows. “You did not deserve to be left like this…” He mourned, cupping a nearby flower in his hands, frozen in decay.
Beneath the soft hum of magic, it sprang up once again. Dazzling in colour amidst the grey. But there were so many others to do, he could not reasonably fix them all before Shadow Milk discovered him again.
He had to move on. To leave.
Curiosity would only be the death of him, yet even so, he remained a curious fool. Something drew him deeper into the garden, lost whispers of the damned, perhaps? Old heroes who rose and fell against the Beast would have fallen and fed the garden. A sorrowful fate, yet it was not what truly drew him closer.
An apple tree stood silently, empty as can be, trapped amidst the rot. Its apples were blue, the same deep hue held by the snake of temptation. Amidst the greying growth, a trail of starlight vanished amongst the decaying thicket. Beckoning him closer.
He pressed through, unable to even identify what once flourished there. A barrier between worlds, that of one choked by grief. He stepped out onto an endless meadow of milkcrowns; nary a blade of grass remained in their sorrowful embrace.
“...How many tears were shed here?...”
To the very centre, they had all but turned black, a tar-like ooze steadily dripping onto the surrounding flowers.
“You stand amongst a graveyard, young one…” Pure Vanilla turned, a trembling old woman, an aged mirror to Lady Azure stood behind him. Hands poised over a short cane and a basket tucked on her arm.
There was little way of trickery this time around. For he knew all too well that it was one more face worn by the Beast. Yet he would remain silent and let her speak her piece.
“What is it that you most desire?” One simple question, nothing more, nothing less.
“...I don’t know anymore.” That was all he said.
And with that, she handed him one more apple. Its blue skin, a brilliant sheen, his reflection caught amidst his foggy eyes. He lost himself in that sight, questioning the journey up until this point. Frustration and confusion boil beneath his skin, to lose trust in his own mind through all of this.
In a fit of rage, he threw the apple, only for it to burst like a bomb of confetti. And a low mocking clap soon followed.
He turned, catching a glimpse of the jester in his full glory. “Well, well, well… Lookie what we have here. Never thought you’d make it this far on your own,” Shadow Milk hummed as he pulled at his coatails, swirling them back into the dress and face that held Lady Azure.
“I’ve gazed at you for so long now, since when? Ever since you were as tall as a little lamb,” she cooed, pinching one of his cheeks through the terror that rushed through his face. “I know all there is to know about you.”
Her hand slid down to his neck, circling his back as skin soon met with scales. “Every little secret… Every little sssin… I’ve seen it all,” he hissed into his ear, thin tongue whistling deep. “Do not hide yourself in the dark, dear dove. Embrace it, bathe in it. It’s uselesss to fight.”
Scales shifted to a shrivelled palm, slowly running down his arm before holding his hand. “We are all fools to the very end. You must miss it deeply, your dear home. It misses you too, and he’s been waiting for you for so, so long.”
Yet instead of the visage of a trembling old woman. Beneath the blurred fog, another figure stood before him. Veiled in starlight, a most sombre yet sweet smile which spoke of delights and devotion into his very heart.
“Dear dove. What is it you truly desire, my most devoted love?” A voice echoed out. Holding their hands together as his staff fell out of sight.
A beat. A pulse.
Blueberry bloomed against his lips once more. A flavour he chased, savoured. Hands clasped into the blue dough before him, dragging it as close as can be, indulging deeper as he drank desires fulfilled.
Tongues danced for dominance, hot breath fanning against Shadow Milk’s cold puffs with every escaped moan or gasp for breath. Greed delighted in the senses, the sting of the Beast’s fangs that pierced the skin, the utter closeness of bodies entwined.
His tongue grew in size, overpowering, slithering through his own mouth as though it were nothing but a cave to explore. Mapping out every inch, and drinking nectars of sweet vanilla.
Lost without purpose, their limbs wandered. Shadow Milk’s hands pushed the back of his head, leaning into a kiss far too deep. All the while, Pure Vanilla, renewed with lust, grasped at his hips. Grinding himself against the Beast’s leg, desiring something.
Something deeper.
He clung to him, pulling, yearning, hungry for release. For bliss absent of sin.
A cold hand soon crawled down from his head, caressing the back of his neck before travelling further. Robe was gathered, pulled and pushed away to reach the soft, warm rump hidden beneath. Kneading at it, squeezing at it to earn a muffled squeak.
Spurred further on, clawed fingers pulled at the edge of his leotard, reaching ever closer to his most sacred land.
It was then that the cold wash of reality returned to him at once. The fuzz enveloping his mind snapped away.
With a sharp gasp, Pure Vanilla ripped himself away. Cheeks flushed, lips swollen as his knees trembled in shock. “W-What was I?-”
“Trying to play coy now, are we?” Shadow Milk scoffed, his elongated tongue wrapping around his fingers, leaving Pure Vanilla more flustered than before. “You were so close… To get what you wanted.” He curled his middle and index fingers with emphasis as he spoke. Unconsciously causing Pure Vanilla’s thighs to tighten closer together.
“What is it that you believe I truly want? And not projections of your own lust?” He hissed, embarrassment bubbling beneath his skin. “These are no desires of mine! They are yours!”
Despite his arguments, Shadow Milk only smirked, eyes glinting with a dangerous glow. “You sound so sure of yourself there. But how much longer can you lie to yourself?”
A slow zipping noise trembled down his spine, his eyes following the slow descent of Shadow Milk’s clawed hands. Out popped a cock where not even a bulge existed prior. It was powder blue, bushed by white with a navy tip speckled by starlight and a round golden barbel piecing to top it off.
He could do nothing but stare, even as his sanity kicked at the door. To run, fight, do anything at all. “Cat got your tongue?” The Beast so smugly sang, wrapping his clawed fingers around the shaft. It was exactly the same size at that…
“Quite perverted of you, I must admit,” Shadow Milk teased, earning a rise out of the Ancient.
“I-I am no pervert! Rich words coming from the flasher himself! Put that away!” He argued, a deep flush seeping into his dough.
The Beast tutted at him, squeezing his head before lazily stroking the shaft. “Speak for yourself, you seem to be enjoying it. Well, I am nothing if not a great showman, so if you so desire. Voyer to your hearts' content!” Ideally, he should have remained disgusted by his acts. To reject him in full and fight back with all he had.
Yet…
There was something Pure Vanilla could not deny.
His loins were throbbing, his mouth coating itself with saliva, the longer that cock stood out proud. And Shadow Milk’s eyes rolled. “Earthbread to Nilly, helloo? Can you really not handle yourself? Fine, let me sweeten the deal.” The Beast leaned in close, breath tickling his face. “I’ll let you suck it, seeing as you’re so eager. No strings attached! Just go at it, champ, until you blow!”
He could only gawk at his confidence. “What makes you think I-I’d agree to something like that?” His heart battered against his chest, flush creeping down his neck.
“I think so because I know so…” Did he mean?...
A cold brush of air blew against the bottom of his leotard, eliciting a shocked gasp as the chill swept through the moistness. Looking down, he could see Shadow Milk had pulled up the hem of his robe, gleefully eyeing that decadent display. “Even your body knows… So. Suck.”
An authoritative sting thrummed through that single word, bringing Pure Vanilla straight to his knees. Legs trembling, mind rumbling, had he truly any choice in the matter? Yet the longer he stared, the further his mind drew a blank. Shadow Milk did not grab nor thrust in an effort to force his hand.
Merely waited there, patient and eager.
…He could just. Spare a minute.
With a nervous gulp, Pure Vanilla slowly pushed himself towards the blue cock, watching as the Beast’s grin grew with each second. The hem of his robes was strung up by blue strings, keeping that damp patch exposed as he pushed down the burn of embarrassment.
Wetting his lips with his tongue, Pure Vanilla softly kissed the tip. Giving it a quick peck. His cock had a sweetness to it, like ripened blueberries and yoghurt that danced across his tongue before the metallic bite of his barbell cut through the flavour. “Mph…” A soft sigh pulsed in his throat as his brain lagged behind.
Instinct carried him through, despite his lack of experience outside of pleasuring a false cock. His mouth knew a route as though carved out in the depths of his memories. Kissing just below the head, earning a sensitive moan from above.
The chilliness of Shadow Milk’s dough gave it the impression as though he were enjoying a popsicle. Such an image spurring him on to recreate such an act, forever staining the image of the icy treat.
Savouring its taste, Pure Vanilla ran his hot tongue across the bottom of his shaft up to the tip, where he would end it with a flick. Earning him a soft hiss as he repeated this little trick, occasionally breaking the monotony by suckling the head as opposed to flicking it.
Sharp claws dug into his skull, only spurring him on further as droll escaped containment.
“Shit! Nilla- You’re excited for this, aren’t you? Look at you slobbering down there… How filthy, better drink it up now like the dog you are,” Shadow Milk shallowly taunted, thrusting his cock against his lips.
Beads of pre-cum dripped like dew into his awaiting tongue. Greedily lapped up as though he had a thirst that could never be quenched. Teasing entry again and again as blueberries coated his mouth.
Something broke through the confident ruse above him, a glance through his fallen staff showed him desperation, a thread ready to snap. And so, he finally dove in. Engorging the chilly length in wet head, lathering it in all the gluttony his tongue could afford.
Pure Vanilla began to bob his head, a steady heat building in his core as he steadily worked towards his goal. To fully engorge himself as he had done once before. To feel that slow pulse, to taste another's dough and to drink his rewards of liquid pleasure.
“Mmngh… Mph,” mindless moaning muffled against Shadow Milk’s cock. Unable to restrain his voice any longer. Desperately sucking and pressing deeper and deeper. Till his eyes ran white, till his throat was breached.
A wild whine cried out, it felt longer than it looked… Already reaching the back of his throat, yet just the tip of his nose barely brushed against the white hairs that mocked him from afar. Trickery was surely involved; no doubt a shapeshifter could perform such a feat, but he was in no place to complain over more cock. Shadow Milk let out a cheerful whistle, tussling his hair. “Look at that gag reflex! Really trained yourself, huh? Buuut,” he held the T with a slithering hiss.
“Need a hand?” With a firm press, he began to push the rest of his cock down Pure Vanilla’s throat by holding his head down. “Aahhh…” A low, relaxed groan peeled itself from Shadow Milk, all the while Pure Vanilla could only muffle a scream around his cock.
It was so, so deep.
As soon as his nose pressed against his bush, a soft moan travelled through his throat. Suckling and gulping against the length that travelled all the way down from the back of his throat. Instead of the musk he expected, amidst his hair was a scent that felt strangely familiar…
The musty pages of books, comforting in their age and presence, ever so slightly sweetened by the freshness of milk. It lit a pit in his stomach, digging deeper as he peered up at the man above. Wrapped by pleasure, his hair oozing at the ends.
“Mmmh…” Releasing his grip, Shadow Milk ruffled his hair, ruining the careful grooming with an eager grin. “There we go. Ain’t that bad now, is it? Phew…Good boy, you’re doing such a good job.”
“Mmph!” Such praise rolled too easily off his tongue, leaving his thighs trembling as he hollowed out his cheeks. Ever more eager to do a better job, even as tears pricked the corner of his eyes.
Slurps and sucking echoed out amidst the meadow, the sanctity of such a place ruined by filthy erotism. Yet felt good, it felt right.
Just as Shadow Milk’s cock burned and throbbed in his mouth, so too did his head follow. As though he had been dipped beneath the surface, his ears muffling the world around him.
All that remained amongst the numbness was the wet slaps of his tongue and a tune that called to his innermost thoughts.
Forget the shame, forget the sin.
Forget the Witches, but do not forget their curse.
Let it fester, let it grow.
Let it consume, let yourself rage.
Embrace your desires, embrace your devotion.
Embrace your lust, and let yourself sin.
He could no longer ignore it, the way he ached so desperately.
A dog begging and whining for a release so long denied. Throwing all he had held, all he had learnt to the depths for a single moment of filthy pleasure.
With fumbling fingers, he reached down to pull away the bottom of his leotard, revealing the aching, wet pussy. “Finally getting desperate? I can help with that.” A devious chuckle froze him in place. The jester's foot brushed away his fingers as it rubbed against his folds. It was hard to place where suit and shoe ended, but they resembled stiletto heels. The tip itself had a firm point to it, one that the Beast mindlessly grinded into him.
A pleasurable scream was barely muffled around Shadow Milk’s cock, Pure Vanilla’s hips bucking against the shoe as it pressed against his clit. Pushing and pulling away at an agonising pace, teasing him with no remorse. “Aww… Still struggling?” With a mocking coo, he slipped away, sliding it firmly between his folds. “If you want to cum, fuck my foot like the dog you are.”
He wailed as he dirtied the Beast’s shoe, coating it with a vicious squirt, leaving his pussy sensitive as he began humping against the hard material. Any and all thoughts were lost to desire. Sloppy were his thrusts against the shoe, unable to aim it amidst his thrall.
Shadow Milk made no effort to help him self-pleasure, merely providing the means before abandoning him to desperation. Only holding down his head to ensure he would not slip off his cock.
Even with his terrible aim, he could feel that burning release steadily build. Once his sign to stop whatever decrepit act he was indulging in now curled deep into his skin. He needed this, wanted this.
Witches be damned.
“Hhh!-” With one last push, his legs dangerously trembled. That burning coil in his gut burst forth. It was a freedom like none ever before. As the tip pressed inside his hole, it was met by a deluge of liquid pleasure as he truly came for the first time in his life. Far from the weak squirting that had come before, this was transient.
A part of his vow was shattered that day, leaked out by the sweet cum now clinging to his thighs. White sin now stained that black shoe as it practically kicked against his raw hole. Chasing its own pleasure against the exhausted body.
“Filthy-”
Shadow Milk hissed as he thrusted into his slack mouth.
“Pathetic-”
He tore his foot away, his folds fluttering in pain for its return.
“Sinful little-”
A new pool dribbled out of his mindless body, as above, so below.
“Slut!”
With a firm press, his cock buried itself deep as can be before unleashing its chilly release. Spurts of creamy cum coat his throat, travelling up into his mouth for tasting as Shadow Milk finally began to pull out. Refusing to move his tip past his lips until he had emptied himself in full.
“Disgusting mutt…” Shadow Milk muttered, spitting into his cum lodged mouth. “Better swallow before you speak now, can't have you choking for forgiveness once the Witches find out, hm?” Such a daring thought rushed him to swallow, feeling the viscous cum crawl down his throat and settle in his stomach.
But it wasn’t over, of course it wasn’t. Not with the Beast around. With a snap, Shadow Milk reclined in an ethereal chair, pointing his shoe coated in his cum and juices at his face. “Good dogs clean up after themselves, don’t they?” His voice dripped bittersweet, affection laced amidst malice.
“...Y-Yes-”
“Yes, what?”
Tears pricked his eyes, his overstimulated mind struggling against the barrage. “Y-Yes, sir…” A trembling, pathetic voice ran raw and dry.
Shadow Milk tutted, rolling his eyes. “Close enough. Now get to work,” he coldly ordered. Pure Vanilla hurried, burying his mouth into his own filth. The sharp tang of vanilla cut through the blueberry that had sat in his mouth, leaving him in tears of shame for savouring such a flavour.
The traitor that was his body refused to stay still, rocking against nothing as he licked away the sticky white trails. “Too slow, hurry up!” Shadow Milk’s voice boomed through the meadow, sending fearful jolts down his spine as he slobbered against the shoe.
Truly, the dog he so claimed he was. Eagerness to please infected what remained of his thoughts. He wanted to be good, so, so good. To clean up his mess because that’s what Shadow Milk wanted him to do.
That’s what good dogs do.
Before long, his devoted services paid off, a shining black heel licked clean as can be. Finished with a soft kiss at its tip, and Shadow Milk seemed pleased as can be.
“Now,” Shadow Milk pulled at his hair, forcing him to look up. “What are you?”
“A-A good dog…” He sniffled, sobs at the verge of breaking through.
And the man merely smirked at the work he had done, releasing his grip into a gentle pat on the head. “There, good boy.” Pure Vanilla felt something in his mind shatter from such an act.
He could only gasp for a pitiful breath of air, snot and tears dripping down his face as his raw throat wheezed. He should have been mortified, angry for being treated less than dirt and yet…
He burned. He burned for more.
A sharp claw tilted his head up by the chin, and above a toothy grin rowed with razors. “What would your friends think of you now, seeing you like this?” He buckled his shoe back up, eliciting a scream from Pure Vanilla before finally pulling it away. The grass now brushing against his folds. “Hmm… I could just send you back like this or… How about a little game?”
The Beast knelt to his ear, his voice rasping beneath a whisper. “I have the binding ritual you so desire. All yours for one teeny-tiny price.”
“W…What is it?” Pure Vanilla breathlessly asked, his voice raw and trembling. This briefest of respites from the mind-numbing erotism finally returned that sliver of sanity he had foolishly stored away. Though he had not yet crumbled beneath the shame and horror of what had just occurred.
“You may accompany me for some time, a week, let’s say. I’ve been sooo busy since getting dragged out of that tree, you see. For a moment I thought I had a moment to myself and oh! You’re here,” his tone lacked bitterness or sarcasm, yet the sweetened eagerness was far more threatening than either of those. “But then I thought, hey. Why not shoot my shot? Find some new company, my minions are far too clingy these days.”
Pure Vanilla quietly gasped at such an offer, one too good to be true. “What is your catch? Am I to be a companion of sex?” He gritted his teeth, feeling cold and used, now deprived of consuming heat.
But Shadow Milk simply tutted. “Oh, no, no. Only if you want to. I’m not that deprived,” he let out a dark chuckle, leaving him unsure of those words. “I’m an excellent host if I say so myself! Kept that sorry lot trapped with me entertained for all of these years.”
A horrifying thought, truly.
“But that is all that I ask for. I won’t lay a hand on those brats, unless they come knocking at my door… Your Soul Jam or even you! Just sit tight like a good little doll and watch some of my shows,” he explained with flair before offering his hand. “So whaddya say? Shake a fellow sinner's hand?”
A deal with the devil, his own palm burned at the thought.
It should have been ignored, turned at the door and righteously refused.
And yet… A trembling hand met with a cold claw. “I accept…” He forced those words out, deeming this for the best. Even if the binding ritual were a hoax in itself, he would be granted an opportunity to learn more about the Beast in close quarters.
Push comes to shove, he would find a way to escape or fight him on his own.
If only his iron will had not melted away at that most toothy grin. “You really did it now.” Howling laughter split through the air. Pure Vanilla was dragged to his shaky feet, practically pulled into a limbless dance before being thoughtlessly tossed into a blue portal. His staff was thrown in after him as he tumbled across what was now the spire’s floors.
And to what he saw, he could not explain.
Wrapped in prestige from a bygone age were columns of white and gold, with a floor marbled in a pure milky sheen. They stood unbothered amongst a cacophony of chaos, stars that ran above and below to no discernible end—paintings, endless in numbers and faces of the Beast’s many faces that blinked and grinned. Tapestries veiled with tales twisted by lies.
And the blue…
Oh, so much blue.
“Welcome one, welcome all! And a warm welcome to you! My silly Vanilly, to my most humble abode. So, why don’t we make you feel right at home?” At his word, bunnies came out in a march. Trumpets, flags and poppers in hand. Showering him with adoration, a parade made just for him.
They skittered around his feet, practically pushing him along to Shadow Milk’s trail of hums as he lazily floated down the shifting halls. “Hmm-Hm~ Looks like the spire’s already taking a liking to you! It does love little bits of gold after all.” Those words stirred a mysterious thrum amidst his heart.
Was it joy? Fear? Surrounded by the unknown, he felt remarkably calm as though he were truly at home. “Here’s your room, specially made just for you.” It was a near replica of his bedroom, just with one exception.
Blue. It was almost entirely blue. A step he had never taken despite his urges, attempting to keep the sanctity of his appearance even in private. “I- Thank you, Shadow Milk,” he stumbled through his words, face flustered.
The Beast looked quite proud of himself, smugly smirking. “Just doing my job as host! Now then! Here’s a key to the exit.”
“Huh?”
“Whaat? Can’t trust me, can ya? If you so desire, you can just run out the front door with that. Easy peasy. Buuut… you wouldn’t do that. Would you?”
Pure Vanilla narrowed his eyes; he could feel a thinly veiled threat amidst the cheerful facade. He had trapped himself here, willing wrapped in a web for his own pleasures. Yet if it may save his friends from his burdens... “I see… I shall keep it on me then.” It was fairly light, a shimmering gold with a blue sapphire embedded in the head. “But… Might I ask? My friends will surely notice my absence. Are you not afraid of them coming to free me?”
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about them. In fact, why don’t I show you?” With the snap of his fingers, a mirror from the edge of the room was dragged over an image plastered in its reflection. It was him, reunited with his companions, lightly laughing along to conversations as though he had never left.
“With a little magic here and there, pretty decent looking fake, don’t you think? He’s not as strong as you, but a puppet is a puppet! He’ll distract them long enough; my servants are twisting the forest even now as we speak. So, we have all the time in the world.” Whilst the man blabbered on, he could not help but become drawn to the fake image of himself out there.
If he were to never return… how long would it be till anyone noticed?
As if sensing the impending spiral, Shadow Milk turned off the flow of magic, returning the mirror to its usual reflection. It was only then that he could see the state he had been left in. His hair was a mess, terribly out of place. Marks left by Shadow Milk’s grip littered his face, amidst ruddy flushed cheeks and the sheen of sweat. And his lips, they were swollen and red with trails of cum still dripping from his chin. Those pure white robes of his were creased and stained with dirt, patches of moisture clinging to where his dribble had fallen.
Shadow Milk tutted at him, grabbing his robes by the shoulder. “Now that won’t do! You’re a guest, you ought to clean yourself up!” Like a magic trick, with one firm pull, he snatched the robe off his body without even making a tear. Though any chance of him being impressed was pushed away in favour of embarrassment for leaving him in his underwear. The leotard clung tightly to his skin, hugging his features, especially his curves. And his thighs were coated and soaked by his own cum and natural lubrication, the bottom of his leotard remaining pushed to the side as his still throbbing pussy was left out in the open.
The abandoned robe was tossed to the bunnies, and the Soul Jam was left to the side. “I’ve got some work to do! So, get yourself washed and dressed now, can't have you walking around looking like a whore.” He pinched his cheek as he spoke, gleeful in the reactions it brought. “But once you're ready, let the bunny outside your door know and I’ll give you the grand tour!”
With a flurry of cards, he vanished into the shadows. Leaving Pure Vanilla with his thoughts once more. “Oh, Witches… What have I done?” He had so willingly let himself be taken away, and for what? A bargain a Beast would have no reason to uphold?
He cursed himself. Cursed his body for such a betrayal. Wept to the Witches above to forgive him for falling for a devil’s tricks. “Witches, forgive me, Witches, forgive me,” he chanted against scalding waters rubbed vigorously against his dough. To have drunk so deeply of sins and to derive pleasure from it in turn.
Would they turn against him just as they had to the Fount of Knowledge?
The mere thought broke him, all that he was, gone just like that. Sobs caressed the bathroom walls, echoing out his sorrows, only furthered by the heat lapping at his sensitive skin. Once sufficiently punished, he wrapped himself with a large soft towel a replica of his own baby blue ones at home.
He would not indulge like that ever again. Weakly falling into his desires, twisted and turned by a master of manipulation. Hands clasped in prayer, he affirmed himself once more to hold firm to his chastity and defeat the Beast when the opportunity arose.
For now, he’d play along to his game, learn what he could with the time he was given. “Just a week…” He murmured to himself, approaching the wardrobe with curiosity prickling away at him. It was overly ornate, nothing like the one he had at home. Gold vines crawled up the wood with delicate engravings that formed into eyes if one were to look long enough.
And past those heavy wooden doors were racks stuffed with clothes of varying styles. Yet one thing remained in common. All of them were crafted out of the most beautiful blue velvet. “Oh dear… This is far too much for me.” Such rich fabrics were a world away from his; even as king, he kept to simple cottons and wools taken from the very sheep he doted on.
He had to find something, though his ruined leotard would prove to be a problem were he to wear it, and he doubted the Beast would get it cleaned anytime soon. At the bottom was a set of drawers containing some underwear… All of which were terribly scant, even more so than the lingerie he would rarely don. And there was no way he would traverse this tower without anything on underneath, knowing the Beast and his tricks.
But seeing as how he had at the very least picked up on his preferences, there was a leotard supplied along with gloves and stockings to go along with it. As strange as it might have been to others, he enjoyed the way they clung to his skin, giving him flexibility beneath stuffy robes. These, however, were a deep navy, glittering against the light crafted by some unknown fabric that hugged snugly to his body.
Perhaps a bit too snug though… He could barely move it after fitting it on, but it was comfortable at the very least.
Though he was thankful at least for the variety Shadow Milk had supplied him with, an ornate suit that fitted him perfectly, though far too dramatic in flair. A tunic top and black flared trousers were a unique fit on him; however, they left him feeling like a teacher…
Piece after piece left him discontent for one reason or another, or far too revealing for his tastes. At this point, he may as well parade himself in his underwear for all the skin they covered. It wasn’t until he dug to the very back that he escaped with something far more suitable.
A simple robe, far closer to what he wore in his day-to-day life, with just some sequins to decorate the hem as though dotted by starlight, with a thin silver chain belt. Silver wasn’t his usual choice in metal colours, but faced with no better options, he’d make the exception. Fastening his Soul Jam to his chest, he took one last breath before opening the door.