Signum's Final Frame (Nanoha Bimbo/Statue fic) (Patreon)

And here's a special story this week - not only is it one of the longest single pieces I've written - it's also a new collab piece with Zarvex3! I'll be posting this one to my DA gallery a little sooner than I usually do - once he posts up the sequence that it's based on (a sequence I highly recommend!) but for now, it's just a treat for you guys - I hope you enjoy it!

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(Contains bimbofication and inanimate TF)

The halls of the castle were long, ornate, and poorly lit. Red carpet, well-trod, led the way through the winding passage past an elaborate array of paintings and busts, fancy and extravagant artwork designed to impress, but meeting mostly indifference. The lack of dust was a true tribute to the cleaning staff, as one could only imagine that a building like this generated the stuff like a mage accumulated mana – as quickly and as much as possible, and then more besides.

Altogether it almost bored Signum to tears. “Lord Servela, your hospitality is noted and appreciated,” she said to the man leading her through an arcane route deeper into the dark building, her irritation quietly suppressed under her constant mask of stoicism. “But I’m afraid I don’t have time to spend enjoying your collection. This case is high priority, and I’ll need to report my progress in a few hours. It would be… ideal, if you could help me have some progress to report by that time.”

“Of course, of course!” The Lord smiled and nodded her his assurances. He was a traditional man, for his world. Dressed in a dark suit, complete with a velvet cloak – which personally Signum found to be a bit too far on the gaudy side, and she worked with magical girls for a living – he was the spitting image of the gothic aristocrat, so much so that the TSAB enforcer had been tempted to check him for fangs when she’d arrived to his greeting. “Forgive me, I spend most of my time dealing with pointless nobility who have no desire but to waste my time with meaningless self-indulgent babble. I’ve learned to plan my route through the castle to give them time to get it out of their system before we get down to important business, but I can see you’re not the type.”

“Quite.” Hm. She could appreciate the compliment, at least. “So with that in mind, perhaps we can cut this short?”

“Naturally.” He nodded, and then took a sharp turn down a left leading corridor. “This way then. Miss Signum, I really must say you’re a breath of fresh air.”

And now it was getting a bit too close to flirting. Hopefully he’d tone that down. “I can’t say I get that often,” she conceded. “At any rate, I’m going to need all of your files regarding the case, in addition to any information you can tell me about the event.”

“Naturally.” The Lord nodded, raising his magical lantern to peer down the hall ahead. “I’m only too happy to provide. Obviously a case like this concerns us all – it’s not every day that a cult like the Azfarian Order appears.” His lips pursed into thin, bloodless lines as her reflected on the situation. “To think they’d grow in power so quickly… I only hope that the TSAB can assist us before things get well and truly out of hand.”

“That’s out intention.” Signum wasn’t really the best at providing comfort or support to strangers. It was easier to just punch people in the face. Still, she could at least try to reassure the man. “The Azfarian Order has been making appearances on multiple worlds, often with displays of incredible magical power. In nine cases out of ten, that great power always vanishes before major damage is done – usually after the government in power has conceded to their demands pointlessly. It’s all an illusion - little more than a scam to try to take advantage of unprepared worlds.”

“That’s what they told me over the com network,” Lord Servela nodded. “And it was most reassuring to hear. But I can’t help but notice what you said… What is it that happens in the last case? The tenth out of ten?”

The pink haired knight paused. She had to choose her words carefully here. “We’ve lost contact with those words. Presumably those are the worlds where the people gave in to their demands.”

“… I see.” Silence hung in the air. The alternative – that those were the worlds where the cult’s demands hadn’t been met, and they had come forward to prove their power in a far more devastating way - was… unhelpful, and not worth dwelling on right now.

“In any case,” Signum said, hoping to break the tension. “We can’t do anything until we investigate. Why don’t you tell me what happened here?”

“Ah, yes. I suppose I should start at the beginning.” Servela paused to check their direction at a junction, and then began leading his charge up a flight of thickly carpeted stairs. “It began about a month ago. That was when their messenger appeared.” He paused as he thought back, his eyes growing distant. “She appeared in a vision of wonder. An angel dressed in black, descending from our skies over the capital. I’ll never forget what she said. Her voice boomed all over the city. ‘People of Lerezia, your salvation is at hand’.”

“Salvation?” Hm. That was a new pitch. The ‘angel in black’ sounded familiar though. “This woman, did she have a name?”

“She did indeed.” The Lord chuckled. “It sounds like you might be ahead of me here, Enforcer. Yes, she said her name was Evelyn, and that she’d come to grant my people their every desire.”

“Evelyn Descarte.” Signum frowned. “We have reason to believe she’s one of the leaders of the Order.”

“I suppose we should be honoured, then?” Servela joked, but his mirth was short lived. “She certainly had that kind of bearing.”

“Truly? Hm. Our records describe her as being rather… flighty. Prone to distraction. She often seems to wander off on random ill-thought out tangents rather than completing her personal objectives… At least, according to our files. You would say differently?”

“Oh, most certainly!” The Lord nodded seriously. “She was almost regal in her charms… But, I must admit, perhaps that was the terror talking. You see, after she arrived and made her declaration, she also…”

“Made a threat to demonstrate what would happen if you didn’t capitulate to her demands? That would be her usual MO.”

“I’m afraid you’re correct. She lit up the sky with a wave of her staff, telling us that we would swear ourselves to the order of Azfaria, or face the consequences. And then with a great, thunderous roar, magical lightning like we’d never seen before rained down upon our city, and transformed every woman within its walls to stone…”

Signum winced. “I take it they were all… enhanced, in certain regions as well?”

The Lord coughed. “Their clothing vanished in the strike, yes, and most of them acquired… somewhat expanded assets in the chest and rear region in their new stone forms. Is that what you’re referring to?”

The knight nodded. “Yes. That confirms it then. Evelyn has a type.” It fit the pattern, unfortunately. “Have you had any luck reversing the spell?”

Sevala shook his head. “Not so far. It’s… most unfortunate. My own wife was in the city that day, attending a council meeting…” He turned suddenly, looking up at her. “Is there anything your people can do? Surely the mighty TSAB has the resources needed for freeing her from her stone slumber!”

“…” Damn, here was that reassuring thing she needed to be doing again. This really wasn’t her deal at all. Maybe they should have sent Shamal. “I… The bureau will send the best mages we have to treat the condition, once we are sure that the cult has been dealt with. In the past we’ve had some unfortunate instances of their followers going as far as to kidnap the ones we send to treat the condition. They seem to view captured members of the TSAB as an amusement, or a badge of honour. We need to do a few security checks before we can commit our aid as freely as we would like.”

The Lord seemed to wilt for a moment, but he nodded none the less. “I understand. She looks very nice in the rose garden, anyway. She always did appreciate the flowers,” he muttered with a sigh, before resuming his march.

“You… mean your wife?” Signum’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Not where she would have put a petrified loved one, if she was honest.

“Yes, yes. It’s the best place for her. She fits the décor, and there’s just no room anywhere else.”

“I see…” Well… That was an explanation, at least. “Perhaps you would allow me to take a look? If I saw some of Evelyn’s handiwork, I might be able to get a better understanding or her powers – possibly I could even begin work on reversing her petrification.”

“Ah!” The Lord blinked, and then smiled. “It’s funny you should ask that, actually! I’m afraid my dearest is on the other side of the castle, but I do have a few other samples of the Angel’s work nearby. Here, just this way…”

“Other samples… You mean, other statues from the city?”

But Servela shook his head. “No, no, not that…” He opened a door and held it for her. Stepping through, she found herself in another ornately decorated corridor – but this one clearly saw much more use. There were working lights on the walls, for one thing, and a warm breeze belied the presence of a proper heating system. More than that, though – it was clear this was no simple hallway. In front of the pair the carpet extended over a polished wooden floor, with large alcoves cut into the walls on both sides every couple of meters, each one curtained off with dark blue velvet drapes, tied with embraided ropes. “I’m afraid those women were not the only victims of her power.”

Ah. “There were others? Normally she contents herself with a single demonstration…”

“Not in our case.” The Lord shook his head, moving over towards the first of the curtains. “For you see, on the day that she made her address, she was immediately answered – not by myself, I’m sad to say, but by one of our greatest heroes, Esmerelda De Cana. A sword using mage famed across our world as one of the most powerful warriors we’ve ever known.” He sighed sadly. “She charged straight into the city and met the Angel head on. And as a result…”

He drew back the curtain, and Signum had to stop herself from drawing back in shock. For on the other side was a shining gold naked bust of a woman, smiling blankly with empty eyes. She was balanced atop a wooden podium, and it looked to have taken some effort to do, because she was obviously rather top heavy, her, ah, bosom being at least the size of her head. And there was no sign of her arms or legs to balance her out – presumably lost in the transformation. Indeed, there was no doubt about it – this was a lewd piece of art fit only for private display. And yet, behind it hung a magnificent portrait, showing a bold looking brown haired woman in ornate robes, a sparkling magic sword held lightly in her hand, her expression stern. It was far cry from the expression carved into the bust’s face – and yet, when looking at the two pieces, it was impossible to ignore the similarities – the blankly smiling statue was the same woman as the fierce mage in the picture.

Signum’s eyes hardened. “I assume she’s the one in gold?”

Lord Servela shrugged uncertainly. “I’m afraid I’m not sure. Both the bust and the portrait were found together after the battle. It seemed sensible to keep them together. But yes. This is all that remains of one of our greatest champions.”

“… I see.” Signum moved closer, despite herself. If she wanted to examine this magic, she’d have to take a better look. “This is rather complicated magic. Do you have anyone who specialises in transformations like this? Their assistance would be welcome in finding a cure.”

“Ah. Well… One of our other champions was a specialist in transformations of any kind. Stone, animals, energy… She was quite the master…”

The Knight paused, centring in on the most important word in the sentence she’d just heard. “Was?”

Wincing, the Lord nodded to the next curtained alcove down the hall.

Signum closed her eyes and took a breath. This was worse than she’d thought. “I’d best see for myself,” she muttered, striding over and pulling the curtain over. Another golden bust awaited her, with just as large a bust on display. Behind it, another picture – this time of a slender woman in white robes and a mischievous expression. The plaque beneath it read Alexandria Cercie. The statue’s smile was just as blank as the firsts.

The knight looked over her shoulder at Servela. “And the others?”

He just nodded sadly.

Her heart sank. She’d been hoping for some help in her investigation, but it seemed that Evelyn had gone overboard here. Her previous displays of power had all been of far lower key than this – the occasional petrification or itemization, but never anything of this scale. Something had changed…

Unable to help herself, the knight walked down the hall, pulling curtain after curtain. Each slid aside to reveal another statue, and another portrait, each labelled with the name of a fallen hero. ‘Morgan’. ‘Devona’. ‘Toria’. All of them having met the same fate. Could she truly have underestimated the threat so badly?

But there was something else. Something else that smelled rotten here. Something that was tugging on her brainstem, a little irritating thought that was demanding her attention. This hall… It wasn’t just a hall, was it? This wasn’t a respectful memorial to great heroes. The statues would at least be wearing clothes if that were the case. No, this place was set up more… like a gallery…

Frown lines wrinkled her brow. But why? What could that mean? Perhaps the Lord wasn’t telling her everything? That was a concerning idea. If he’d hidden this, what else was he hiding? Could it be that his awed reverence of this ‘Angel’ wasn’t just fearful respect for her power?

She paused at the thought, staring at the last curtain, her hand resting against its edge. If that were the case then she would have to act swiftly. This investigation had taken a very serious turn already – she couldn’t afford allowing a potential traitor to-

Absently, her hand pulled the curtain across, and her pondering halted. This display was different from the others.

It was empty.

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely correct. It wasn’t empty, exactly. It had a stand for a bust, and a frame for a portrait. But there was no sign of either – just an empty gallery slot.

Signum frowned. “What’s this spot for? Is there a hero missing?

“In a manner of speaking…” The Lord answered, retreating a step away from the hollow display. “That spot is for you, Miss Signum.”

“What?!?” Her suspicions slid into place. A trap! Her hand shot to her belt, reaching for her sword – but it froze just as she grabbed the hilt. “What is this?!”

“Well, I’m afraid our glorious angel couldn’t be here to deal with every nosey interloper who came poking around in the Order’s business,” the man said, his tone taking on a far more casual air as he straightened up, discarding his affected image of polite humility. “So she has left those of us who have proven our loyalty to her with a few gifts to sort the problem out ourselves.” His smirk was telling. “She’s promised quite the reward for you, Miss Signum. You should be honoured – you’ll be a beautiful addition to her collection.”

“Rgh…” The pink haired knight couldn’t move, try though she might. Whatever bind had been employed on her, it was an effective one. It was going to take her a few minutes to break free. Fortunately whatever trap she had fallen into hadn’t been quite quick enough to stop her from grasping Levantine – her sword was a powerful magical focus in its own right. With its help, she might be able to get out of this before whatever it was this fool had planned for her came into play. Obviously he was no Evelyn – no powerful mage - he needed tricks and traps to deal with her. Once those were out of the way, he’d fall quickly.

Which meant stalling him. “You… Why are you doing this? The TSAB is an ally to Lerezia! You can’t truly believe you’ll get away with this kind of betrayal…!”

The Lord snorted. “The TSAB is an overblown military dictatorship that merely gets away with its nonsense through superior firepower. Why would we hold any loyalty to such a thing? Without them getting in the way, Lerezia could have been the strongest world in this entire quadrant – perhaps we’d even have a star empire of our own by now if it wasn’t for you. Hmph. Arrogance…” He shook his head and walked over, openly leering at the frozen officer’s form. “And it’s exactly that same arrogance that will lead your friends and allies into overlooking this little ‘betrayal’ – though personally, I like to think of it as karma. No, they’d never suspect our poor, helpless world of turning you over to the Order – I’ll spin them some yarn about you going out there to fight our Angel and vanishing. Perhaps I’ll show some of the particularly stupid ones this gallery, just to see if they notice you. But somehow, I doubt they will.”

Yes… Yes, keep talking. She could feel the flames starting to build. All she needed to do was keep this conversation rolling a little longer, and she’d be able to break free. Fortunately, it seemed that Severa was just as eager to boast about his plans as any evil fiend. That was something she could play into. “So what are you going to do? Paint a picture as I stand around before turning me into some ridiculous golden lust idol? Or is it the other way around?”

“Hm? Oh. Ha! No, you misunderstand, Miss Signum.” He grinned, leaning in close and absently stroking her hair back over her shoulder, to her disgust. “Your picture has already been painted! Here, let me show you…”

She would have blinked, were she able. Already painted? That was nonsense. She’d only just arrived on the planet not an hour ago, and she’d seen no painter in that time. The gallery was filled with incredibly detailed, intricate portraits – there was no way one could be prepared so quickly. How on earth could he have one already?

But that question paled in comparison to the ones that filled her head as he moved over to the empty frame and pulled it back, exposing the blank canvas beneath. Then, with one more smug look over his shoulder, he turned it over, revealing…

Signum stared, unable to decide if she was more confused, horrified, or disgusted. There, hanging in all its glory, was indeed, unmistakably, a portrait of her. But it wasn’t a dignified, composed painting like all the others in the gallery, no. No, this one was quite different. For one thing, the artist had neglected to give her any clothes, displaying her in all her naked glory – which, to be fair, was quite a bit of glory, more than she actually possessed in reality, though obviously that wasn’t her main concern right now. For another, she had been painted with the most ludicrous expression on her face. Her eyes were heavily lidded and dull, filled with a glaze of spirals that made her look utterly vacant and dim, while her mouth was pursed open, her lips in a wide- was she supposed to be sucking on some man’s…?! Ugh.

It was lewd, crude, and rude – but hardly the intimidating sight that Servela was clearly hoping it would be. The knight bit back on her anger, refusing to give this fool the satisfaction he so clearly wanted. “… I see someone on your staff has a very active imagination,” she said instead, her stoicism completely unaffected. “If you’re hoping that life will imitate art, I’m afraid you have a very hard lesson coming up.”

She was almost there now. She could feel the power starting to flow. Just a little longer and she would be free – just a few more seconds!

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the Lord, stepping back to enjoy the full view of the painting, taking it all in. “I think it rather captures your likeness.”

Hmph. Well now he was just being insulting. “Perhaps you have simply gone blind,” she suggested casually, beginning the process of breaking the bind. She could feel it starting to shatter! “Obviously my chest is not that large – it would be impossible for me to fight with such ludicrously huge weights on my front. And I take pride in the fact that I have not ever looked so insipidly, moronically vapid as you have painted me there. The rest speaks for itself.”

“Are you sure? I think you missed something. Have another look.”

Oh for- “Whatever it is you think I have missed, I assure you that I…” Her eyes drifted back over the portrait, and her brow wrinkled. “That I…”

That was strange. She had a weird feeling about this painting all of a sudden. As her gaze fell upon it the view it offered seemed… compelling, somehow. Oh, not that she wanted to follow its instructions, no. But there was something very interesting about staring at it, that was all. Like there was something there, something just on the edge of her awareness, something that her subconscious kept nudging her to see. Her eyes kept drifting back to it and focusing on it even when she tried to look elsewhere.

“Yes?” He turned back to look at her. “That you what?”

She hesitated. What had she been saying again? A strange confusing haze began to settle over the knight’s mind. She’d been doing something important, hadn’t she? Why was it so hard to recall? Oh… Oh yes! Distracting Servela.

“That I… Ah…” She hesitated again, licking her lips nervously. She was distracting him, but why? What was going on? Why did she feel so peculiar…? “That I… Hm. I… I’m sorry.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I don’t recall. What was I doing?”

The Lord smirked. “Why, Miss Signum, I believe you were studying this painting.”

“Ah, of course, I-“ She looked back up at the portrait – and froze, the force of something, of some ethereal connection, hitting her straight between the eyes. She felt her body stiffen in place, whatever bind that had been holding her shattering along with the power she’d been building up, leaving her swaying in stiff confusion, her eyes still locked on the picture.

There was something different about it now, she noticed, the observation fighting its way through the sudden thick fog. Something about the painting’s eyes. They weren’t lidded anymore, weren’t dripping with stupidity quite so strongly. They were open and clear, though still filled with the odd colourful spirals that signified something Signum couldn’t begin to guess at. But that was strange – why had the painting changed?

“Do you see something new, Miss Signum? You’re certainly watching a lot more intensely now. Maybe you’re finally growing a little appreciation for the arts, hm?”

The knight took a deep breath, trying to fight back against the thick and sticky haze that was filling her skull. Something was wrong here, she was certain of that much. If she could just work out what it was, then she could do something about it. “The picture… it’s changed…” She muttered, straining a little with the effort. “Why… how…?”

“Hm?” The Lord turned to look, his voice filled with sadistic amusement. ”Has it changed? What’s changed about it? I’m afraid I can’t tell. Perhaps, Miss Signum, it’s not the painting that has changed – but you?”

Signum blinked slowly. Huh? What was that supposed to mean? She looked deeper, trying to work it out. Not the painting… but her? That didn’t make sense. She tried to shake her head, but whatever power constricted her body held it tight – all she could manage was to flutter her lidded eyes. “But it’s… It’s…”

She blinked heavily, hoping to refocus herself – but when her eyes opened then she once again saw a changed painting. And this time, she knew without a doubt that the picture had changed – the shift was blatantly obvious. “How…” She blinked again, trying to focus her energy. It was hard, and when her eyes opened they’d lost their blue sheen, replaced with the green hues of her picture’s spiral irises – not that she was aware of that. No, her attention was on a different detail. “How did she get my top…?”

For indeed, the Signum in the portrait was no longer portrayed in the nude. No – while still looking quite hollow of head, and moisture was still clearly dripping from between her bare legs, her chest was now covered by a familiar garment – the under-jacket that Signum herself wore. It lacked everything else about her standard armour – the over-jacket, the armour over her waist, her belt, her collar, none of those were present in the painting… And the top itself was straining to contain the massive bust that the artist had seen fit to give her. But none the less, she was no longer naked. No longer a complete sex object. The knight almost felt pleased.

“Your top?” Servela sounded confused – no, not confused. Mockingly confused. As though he knew some great secret that he refused to share, and was enjoying watching her trip up over herself. “But Miss Signum, I don’t see how that could be. After all, you do not have a top!”

The words trickled into her candyfloss stuffed head slowly, and she grasped their meaning even slower still. She didn’t… What? That was impossible. Of course she was wearing a top. She tried to look down to confirm that for herself, but her head just refused to move – the portrait was too fascinating to look away from, not even for a moment.

And yet… And yet, why? Why, if she was wearing a top, did she feel a breeze against her breasts? Why did her stiff and pointed nipples sense the brush of cold air? What was this odd damp feeling starting to drip down them? The knight shuddered quietly, a rolling jitter making its way up her spine, and tried to form words with her oddly slack mouth, but it just wanted to hang slack, drool pooling under her tongue.

“I…” She stared at the painting. Stared at her other self, trying to remember what was happening. She’d come in here for some reason, looked at this portrait, and then something… funny had happened. If only she could work out what. “I don’t… Oooohhhhh…”

She moaned as she felt a sudden rising heat bloom inside her chest, warmth flooding through her. She felt it expanding inside her, a wave of pleasure pulsing through her breasts, growing bigger, and bigger… Until it finally dissipated, leaving her gasping for air, her strangely heavy chest rising up and down.

It was only after the distraction passed that she realised the painting had changed again, and it was a slow realisation, at that. Despite the fact that she never took her eyes off the image, despite her focus being completely rooted on it like a moth gazing upon a bright light, somehow it didn’t register. She just didn’t see the shift occur, and thus took an achingly long time to see that it had happened. But none the less, notice she did – she noticed that the knight in the painting was no longer struggling to contain her chest. In fact, her bosom now looked much more reasonably sized – perhaps even accurate to life! Somehow her breasts had shrunk? But there was more than that. Just like before, the double in the painting had managed to acquire more clothing. This time it was almost the full set – everything above her waist was garbed in the image of Signum’s barrier jacket. The pink outer jacket, the neck guard, the collar, the gauntlets… She was still missing everything from her belly button down, but from the neck up it was actually becoming a good likeness. Even the expression had changed, becoming sterner, the spirals in her eyes fading down to just a few lines of colour around her pupils…

Signum stared up at the portrait, openly drooling now. Colours were spinning through her eyes, mimicking the trance she’d so openly mocked in her portrait not minutes ago. She paid no mind to how cold it was in the gallery, especially now that her entire upper body was completely bare. Her mind was awhirl with confusion and air, with little else to occupy her or distract her from the study of this beautiful piece of art before her…

Until there was a polite cough from her right. “Miss Signum?” The Lord stepped closer, reaching out to touch her bare shoulder before pulling his hand back as though he were about to stick it in a naked flame. “Miss Signum? Are you still there?”

The voice rattled something, something deep within the near pea-sized object that had once been the pink haired knight’s brain. “Signum… I…” She licked her dripping lips, unable to stop the edges of her mouth from curling up in a helpless smile. “I… Wha… What happened to… her boobs…?”

More elegant words escaped her.

The Lord just laughed. “Her boobs? Oh my, yes, I see what you mean. They do seem to have shrunk, don’t they? Ah well, no matter.” He moved around behind her. “After all, you still have these to remember them by.” Then his arms wrapped around her shoulders, hands landing on her gigantic chest and squeezing, hard.

She came on the spot, screaming out in ecstasy as an unimaginable torrent of pleasure burst through her entire body, shooting up her spine so fast that she felt what was left of her brain go ‘pop’, her eyes crossing and filling with spirals as her mouth curled up into an utterly moronic grin. What was left of her armour dissolved into flecks of pink gold light, floating away from the entranced knight and into the picture, where the image morphed one final time into a fully clothed, clear eyed and sharp minded Signum… The complete opposite of the naked pink haired woman climaxing beneath her gaze.

“Heh.” And, of course, the sharply dressed Lord still playing with her tits. “That was quite a show, dear. I’m guessing someone with a stick as far up their ass as you doesn’t get much action, huh? Well, that’s going to change now. On your knees.”

Docile and obedient, the thoroughly entranced Signum had naught in her head save air to tell her no, so she happily sank down without complaint. Her spiralling eyes moved easily from the portrait now, since there was no longer any real mind behind them to root in place. But she soon had something else to focus her attention on, as the Lord stepped around and shoved his cock in her face. “There. Still know what to do with one of these, slut?”

And did she ever! Without any further prompting she opened her lips and gracefully sank her mouth down along his shaft, her eyes mindlessly crossing as she began to bob her head back and forth. She was willing – no, even eager to shove his manhood as deeply inside herself as she could manage – but even that was not enough for the man. Breathing heavily, he quickly found himself grabbing her hair and forcing her into his own pace, his own momentum, using her as nothing more than a simple sex toy to meet his needs. A purpose that suited his empty-headed slut just fine.


“Shall I tell you…” He asked, almost conversationally, as her sucking increased, and her tongue began to run up and down his shaft, curling around and rubbing roughly along his head. “… How it worked? What happened to you, and what will become of you now? Shall I tell you now that you won’t understand a word?”

He may as well have been talking to the empty air. The thought made him laugh, even as he continued to thrust into her. “I think I shall. You asked the wrong question, bitch – when you asked which one was the woman, the picture or the bust. Did you ever think that it might be both? No, of course not. You were always an arrogant cow – I could tell from the moment we met.”

The former knight moaned, and the vibrations from her throat nearly pushed him over the edge then and there – but he held on, just for a little longer. Just to finish properly. “The truth is, those portraits are the real magic. They don’t show you as they are – they show you your future. And then they drain everything away from you that would stop that future from coming to pass.” He looked up at the portrait on the wall in front of him. “Your intelligence.” The fierce knight, glaring down on the scene before her, nothing more than brushstrokes of paint on a canvas. “Your free will.” Everything that Signum had been when she entered this room, no more than art in his gallery. “Your power itself!”

“And in return, it gives you the tools you’ll need.” He sped up, thrusting into her face with abandon as he stared up into the fierce eyes of the portrait, mocking the woman who could do no more than stand and watch her own descent into obedient slutesence. “Lust.” He was close. The knight’s throat purred. “Obedience.” He smirked at the portrait one last time, and then looked down, making sure his slut was leaning back so he could see her empty eyes. “And big tits! All! You’re! Good for!!!”

He slammed in with every word, practically choking the woman, until finally, at last he came, his essence pouring into her mouth and flooding her cheeks as she unhesitatingly swallowed every drop. When he pulled away, only a little of his load dribbled down her chin – but it was more than enough to make it clear just what kind of whore this was. No one could have had any doubt as they looked down upon the eagerly smiling slut – she was a sex toy, through and through.

The Lord snorted as he wiped himself off on her hair. “Well, congratulations, bitch. I wasn’t sure you’d be worth fucking when you arrived, but it turns out you’re a perfectly decent lay once that foul personality of yours is removed. Hopefully our beloved Angel will feel the same way.”

“Oh, I most certainly do~”

The sudden unexpected voice nearly had the Lord jumping out of his skin. He spun around, shocked to find a young woman in dark robes hovering in his Gallery. His jaw dropped… And then he fell to his knee.

“My lady Evelyn! Your presence honours me.” He looked up. “I’m afraid I had no idea that you were coming, or I would have sent a proper welcome. I thought you were due to move off world for the next month?”

The blue haired woman smirked. “Officially, I do. But I heard the TSAB was sending someone to investigate our activities, and I wanted to see just what sort of person we’d be up against… And to test whether you’d be able to handle them yourself. I’m please to say you passed with flying colours.”

The Lord was stunned. “I… Only thanks to your magnificent enchantments, my Lady. Had it not been for them, I doubt the matter would have been nearly so simple. She was becoming suspicious of me already, I could tell.”

“And yet, here she is, a mewling pet…” The ‘angel’ lowered herself to the ground, and walked forward, petting the pink haired slave on the head, her magic erasing any sign of her use as a rag with but a touch. “And you yet stand tall. Congratulations, Lord Servela. You’re deserving of a reward.”

“My Lady… Please, I was granted all the reward I could ever need when you turned my shrew of a wife into a garden conversation piece. I could never ask more.”

“Heh~” The dark visitor was amused. “Well, since you insist… Just something small…” She reached out and tapped Signum on the head with her staff. Immediately, the woman’s tits pumped out by another three cup sizes, inflating up to twice their already magnificent size – and making it impossible for her to ever properly wield a blade, or undertake any activity other than what she was now destined for, ever again. “Or large, depending on your point of view!”

“Your greatness…” The Lord smiled. “I am not worthy.”

“Oh now, don’t be too modest,” Evelyn giggled, reaching down and stroking the pink haired woman under her chin, before moving down and eliciting a few groans of pleasure as she toyed with the mammoth melons she’d given her. “You’ve acquired a wonderful trophy for your gallery. The Azfarian Order takes such things very seriously! I think you may be ready for even greater responsibilities… We’ll discuss that soon. But first… Don’t you think it’s time your newest toy takes her proper place?”

Severla blinked, and then his eyes widened. “Oh, of course! Where are my manners. Would you like to conduct the ritual, or shall I?”

“Oh…” The woman considered it, before laughing, sneering down at the former knight. “I think you deserve that honour. After all, you were the one who brought her this far. Go on, Lord Servela. Finish the job.”

He bowed deeply. “As you wish.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Come, slave! Over here. Sit on your pedestal. It’s time you embraced your true destiny!”

Signum, for what little it matters, had mostly ignored the conversation going on over her head – she knew she was far too stupid now to understand a word of it. She had been conquered, claimed, and corrupted into a cumdump – such truths were self-evident to her now, and she was quite happy to go along with it, being far too dumb to be able to think of a reason why she shouldn’t. But orders were a different matter. Orders – so long as they were simple and didn’t use too many big words – she could obey!

Eagerly, the slut got back to her feet, still dripping with her recent use and with her own juices, and padded over to where her master indicated. A smile on her face, she quickly sat her fat ass down upon the stone pedestal – and immediately felt the tell-tale tingle of transformation magic. Of course, she didn’t recognise it, nor did she take any action to counteract it, but that was unimportant. In fact, anything Signum did or thought no longer truly mattered in any real sense of the term. Her time as a sentient, living, acting being had already drawn thin – and now it was coming to a close entirely. Her ass was already taking on the shine of pure, solid gold, and soon the rest of her would be as well.

She sat in a relaxed pose, her legs spread, her tits presented out for all to see, and didn’t think a thing as her hind quarters began to stiffen. Nor did she notice as a pleasant, tingling numbness swept all the way down to her toes, and then all feeling from her lower body ceased entirely. The rising wave of tingles, and then nothing, continued up her abdomen, freezing her belly in solid gold, and still she didn’t care. Not even as her gigantic tits turned into the world’s most valuable pair of melons did a single thought of worry, panic, or just… anything at all cross her mind. Her thoughts, her intellect, her very mind itself, had already been turned into paint, and hung on the wall behind her, after all. Her arms solidifying at her sides did nothing either. And then all that was left was her head.

“Smile, slut,” Lord Sevarla told her, smiling as he enjoyed the moment like one might enjoy a good glass of champagne. “It’s the expression you’re going to wear for the rest of eternity. Let all of space and time know just how much of a moron you are.”

Orders, as previously mentioned, were something the new Signum took to with relish. Orders were something she could obey. And so without hesitation, she set her face in the widest, stupidest smile she could possibly manage – and then held it for the second needed for the wave of gold to sweep across her face, and her head, and solidify her in place forever more. Her empty mind, once simply unable to form complex thought, was now completely incapable of forming any at all. Her brain was frozen just like the rest of her – a simple, inanimate statue of a former knight.

But even this was not quite humiliation enough. For while she was spread and open, the slut still bore the general shape of a human being – and that was far more than she needed for her new purpose. And so the magic continued to work, sliding into its second phase – to reduce the once proud and powerful knight down to nothing more than a golden symbol of sex – an idol of sluttiness, and nothing more.

Her arms and legs shimmered, and then began to melt inwards, shrinking down into her torso, leaving the metal monument as a limbless torso – which soon sank more than a few inches as her ass sank into the pedestal itself, forever rooting it to this place. Signum would never move again – sitting here in this gallery, under the watchful eyes of her painted former self, for all eternity. Nothing more than a golden pair of tits and a stupid smile with empty eyes, the TSAB enforcer had arrived at her final destination.

The magic settled back into dormancy, and the watchers smiled. Lord Servela breathed out a sigh of relief. It was done.

“Does she please you, my lady?”

“Oh yes.” The dark angel smiled. “Yes, this is the perfect fate for anyone who thinks they can stand against our Order. A wonderful job, Lord Servela. She’s a fine fit for your display.”

And then she turned on her heel, walking steadily towards the exit. “Now, I had to make a long trip to get here – I don’t suppose your kitchens will still be active at this time of night?”

“Oh of course, my Lady.” The Lord was instantly walking by her side. “I’ll see to it at once – you shall have a feast! And while we eat, perhaps we could discuss…”

His voice trailed away as the gallery door swung closed behind the pair. The hall hung in silence – the only sound being the quiet settling of dust.

Smile after moronic golden smile lined the edge of the gallery, all watched over by silent, mindless paintings of former heroes. Never again would any of them rise to fight evil – their only use now was as pieces for display, or as elaborate sex aides. They had all, each and every one, been defeated, and turned from warriors to slutty statues.

And at the very end of the gallery, the latest arrival was no different. Overseen by the fiery image of her once proud self, Signum Yagami smiled with the best of them, her lips wide and sparkling in unmistakable idiocy, her tits hanging out into the hallway further than any others. She was just the same as all of the others – defeated, dumb, and displayed. And that was all she would ever be – forever more.

The latest… But far, far, from the last.