A Whateley Universe Story - April Fools Day Edition

The Revelation

by

Branwen

"Ms. Wilkins?"

Jobe forced herself not to scowl her perfectly formed pink lips, remaining calm under Ms. Hartford's condescending gaze. The office ladies around them busied themselves with paperwork, keyboards clattering with furious strokes. She stood with lithe grace borrowed from her stolen elven genes, brushing one hand through her white hair.

"Ms. Carson will see you in her office now," Hartford said, scowling in disapproval, "I'm sure she'll have something to say about your uniform while you're there."

Jobe smirked in amusement. Of all the things she had problems with; Hartford had to pick on a girl for wearing trousers. "I am a man, Ms. Hartford. This is a regulation boy's uniform."

Hartford removed her wire frame glasses. "And your guidebook clearly states that students are expected to wear a uniform appropriate to their current gender or a gender appropriate to their current uniform. Hard enough telling the Shifters apart as it is. Change as soon as you get back to your dormitory, please, or I'll have you on detention."

Jobe nodded before walking past the arrogant secretary without another word, completely focussed on the task at hand. Stepping up to what looked like a plain wooden door, she knocked. Absently, she wondered if the door was merely clad in wood or if it was really a force field with tactile and optical camouflage.

The door swung open as if an invisible hand were controlling it, revealing Ms. Carson sitting calmly behind her desk, legs crossed under the table. Holographic displays hovered in the air in front of her, blurred from the opposite side so that it was impossible to tell from Jobe's viewpoint what she had been reading. A single empty chair sat opposite her, which Jobe found slightly creepy. Did the room just create chairs for visitors to sit in? If so, what else was the woman in front of her capable of? Girding loins she no longer had, Jobe stepped across the threshold, the door closing smoothly behind her.

"Ms. Wilkins," Carson greeted absently as she reviewed something on her holographic screen, her voice no less intimidating. "Sit."

Jobe followed the order without question.

A few seconds later, the Headmistress flicked the hologram off to one side and levelled her full attention on the student sitting across from her. "Now, I understand you have an issue to discuss with me."

"Yes," Jobe answered, her throat suddenly dry. "I have to report a rape."

"Go on."

Jobe glanced at the door. "Is it safe here?"

"Nothing said inside this room can be heard from the outside. We are as secure as all the forces of the world can make us. Speak your mind."

"Well, to the point, I was raped," Jobe confessed, trying to sound like a lost and scared little girl, "by Sara Waite."

Carson didn't even twitch a single eyebrow. "I see. Why don't you describe what happened in detail."

"Well, it started with me accidently stabbing myself with an experimental serum that would turn me into... this," Jobe explained slowly so that Carson would understand. "It was a frivolous side-project I was working on..."

"To create a Drow from the popular roleplaying game Dungeons and Dragons," Carson interrupted, "probably for your own amusement."

Again, Jobe had to fight back a scowl. Condescending know-it-all bitch, she thought. "I swear, I would never have used it on an unwilling subject."

"No, just a willing sucker. Get to the point, Jobe."

"Yes, Headmistress. After I stabbed myself with my own serum, I turned to the only person I could think of that could remove the... virus, I suppose, is the simplest way to describe it."

"So you went to see Sara Waite."

"Yes. I wasn't stupid about it; I wrote a contract and vowed to end our feud, which was initiated due to a gross misunderstanding." Sara's misunderstanding of my genius, Jobe added in her thoughts. "She signed; I thought we had an agreement! But then she... she..."

"She encouraged the ‘virus' to spread and had her way with you during your vulnerable moment. Then, she revealed that the contract she signed was a sham and left you pining away for her touch. Does that cover it?"

Jobe blinked. Maybe the Headmistress was smarter than she'd initially estimated. "How did you know that?"

"Two reasons," Carson said, holding up two fingers for emphasis. "First of all, it's standard daemonic contract practice. You may be a genius biodevisor, Jobe, but you're way out of your league dealing with demons, nothing good ever comes of their involvement. If you were a Wizard, you'd also know that Whateley takes no responsibility for the outcome of infernal contracts made by students. Harsh, yes, but the only way you'll all learn is by making examples of the few that try it. You're lucky to get away alive, most demons would have consumed your soul."

Jobe was gripping the arms of her chair so hard that she could swear that the wood was being crushed under her grip. "And the second reason?"

Headmistress Carson sat back in her chair and smiled. "Why, Jobe, the second reason is that I ordered Sara to do it."

Stunned for a moment, Jobe didn't notice the tentacles that emerged from her chair until it was too late. In moments, her wrists were bound to the chair, another wrapped around her neck and head even as others emerged between her thighs to entrap her legs. The Drow girl screamed. She screamed as the tentacles slid into her clothes, tearing cloth with causal ease as they removed her secret weapons. She screamed as she was lifted into the air, thighs spread apart until she was practically spread-eagled. She screamed as thousands of tiny Sara-heads grinned down at her from the ends of tentacles high overhead. She screamed until she was hoarse and out of breath.

"Quite finished?" Carson asked calmly, stepping around the desk to sit where she had a view between Jobe's legs.

"Why?" Jobe gasped.

"Predictable. I'll answer the question with a similar question. How? How, Jobe, do you imagine that I keep control of a school where the future superheroes of the world mix with the future supervillains? How do I maintain control of the worst elements of our society? Or maybe I should answer the question with the same question. Why? Why do I keep that bitch Hartford as my secretary? Why do I let the psychopaths in this asylum mingle with the Underdogs? Why do we treat children like guineapigs and lab rats?"

Stepping forward, Carson slid her fingers up the ruins of Jobe's trouser legs, tearing away any remaining shreds of clothing as her fingers caressed the soft curves beneath. Jobe shuddered at the woman's touch, unable to move a muscle.

"I know what you were doing, Jobe," Carson whispered. "I know you were selling my student's genetic tissue on the black market."

Panic hit Jobe's body like a sledgehammer. "I wasn't! I'd never! I..."

"You cut into the board's profits, Jobe," Carson stated with cold clarity, "I can't allow you to interfere with my work. But, your abilities are too useful for me to dispose of you in the usual way. Burnout is such a convenient excuse, you can make as much mess as you like and still people are none the wiser. But I digress, I needed a way to control you, so I sent my pet demon here to lure you in."

Sara purred as Carson scratched one of her heads behind the ear.

"Fortunately," Carson continued, "she discovered your delightful little Drow Serum. I liked the irony too much that you would be undone by your own invention. We made a few modifications while Sara removed your troublesome maleness, when we're through here you'll be quite the little mind slave."

Jobe's brain was racing at the speed of light, trying to adapt to all the new information. "That's it! SPERM! Neither of you can control me with my own invention! You're both women! There's no way female cells can bond with my nervous system and altered stem cells would be too far out of alignment with your genetic code! You can't control me that easily!"

Still smiling, Headmistress Carson reached down to grip the hem of her skirt. A few sensual shimmies of her generous hips pulled the material up her legs until her panties were exposed. Pulling her underwear down over her stockings, she revealed a hairless female sex that was nothing out of the ordinary... at first. A moment later, Jobe noticed how swollen the area was. Then, the tip of something peeked through the slit. With a great heave of her stomach muscles, Carson pushed her phallus out of its internal sheathe, pushing the enormous engorged member out into the air. It throbbed, visibly pulsing with blood as the shaft extended between Jobe's thighs.

Eyes wide, Jobe gazed at the thing with a mixture of disgust and longing. Her body was reacting just to the sight of it, the wet ache of longing growing between her legs. "N-no, please... don't..."

Her protests fell on deaf ears. She gasped with forced pleasure as her diabolically enhanced pleasure centres overrode her survival instincts. There was a sudden spurt of juices as the bulbous head of Carson's member touched her hot and ready lips, the shaft sliding slowly in as the Drow screamed out her ecstasy.

"Damn, the younger ones are always so deliciously tight," Carson commented as she grasped Jobe's hips to force herself deeper into the schoolgirl.

Jobe squeaked cutely when the head bumped her cervix. "S-stop," she gasped, "I feel... myself... slipping..."

"Shhh," Carson whispered like a mother comforting a child, "just let it all drift away. Everything will be all right."

With that, she started to move her hips, thrusting in and out with growing violence. Jobe's eyes rolled into the back of her head as the pleasure assaulted her mind, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth as she was tamed. Soon, her hips were thrusting to meet Carson's strokes as she moaned incoherently. "Don't stop! Please don't stop! I need you in me!" She pleaded, only a trace of reluctance left.

"You really did a number on her," Carson commented to Sara between lustful grunts.

"Don't look at me, I didn't change her that much," Sara protested.

With one last thrust, Carson came, filling Jobe with so much of her seed that it leaked out around her shaft. Jobe wailed as she came in turn, her mind shifting as her willpower was drained away. "Please, do it again," Jobe begged, "I need you inside me..."

Fear fell across her features as Carson pulled out. "NO! Please! I need you! I'll do anything, just put it back iiiiiiiin!"

"Shut up," Carson snapped, wiping herself off with a towel that Sara pulled from a nearby cabinet. "If you do everything that I order you to do without fail, I'll reward you with what you want."

"YES! Anything! Please!"

Carson reached down and patted her new pet's head. "Pity Hekate didn't get the collar on Fey; I'd have a matching set, one for each foot."

Sara dropped Jobe onto the floor and let her crawl to lick the feet of her new mistress. "Neatly done," Sara congratulated as one of her nemeses debased herself at the Headmistress' feet. "I know I picked the right side now... Nimbus."