You found your feet where you had left them and ran forward. Part of you told you this was insane. Another was screaming that you should obey your mistress. Listening to neither of them, you instead did the sensible thing by throwing yourself into Miasma.
Thin threads started to crawl over your body in a web-like pattern. Each second layered more of the rubbery onyx sludge that ate away at the fabric of your clothes to fuel her regeneration. For a second time today, another alien presence crept into your mind. As she was forcing open your mouth to pour her black ichor down your gagging throat, the symbiote explained that you were not an ideal host. Any thoughts that perhaps this had been the wrong idea were interrupted by your arms swelling, becoming more slender, and corded with athletic muscles while your lengthening fingers covered by latex extending into sharp talons. Ceding control of your limbs, Miasma used them to launch another set of swipes at Psionica. The energy being kept retreating under the furious onslaught.
The rest of your body grew to a more impressive and feminine stature in fits and spurts as the latex bindings became more intertwined with your self. Your flat chest was swallowed up by a pair of large breasts that kept expanding and outpacing the rubber tendrils until they were finally covered in the shifting black mass. There was no time to linger or catch your breath as you were thrown around by Miasma’s acrobatics and the feeling of your manhood sucking itself into your crotch and leaving behind a wet opening that dripped with liquid latex. At the least you had some prior experience being puppeted and not in control of yourself, while this was more of a partnership and Miasma allowed you to jointly take the reigns.
“Surrender, Psionica and we can talk without anyone getting hurt.” With the sludge creeping over your neck, you could hear in real time your voice taking on a more feminine tone. There were also hints of the deep reptilian growls of Miasma there. Already you could feel your face preparing to be consumed into a snarling jaw with eight oval eye lenses in a dark mimicry of Tarantula’s hero outfit. Although his furred mask contained sensors and high-tech equipment alongside his one pair of eyes. “There’s still time before you do something you’d regret.” Aside from killing Vic Lector’s, mind controlled, goons in cold blood.
At first she seemed to hesitate and looked confused like she wasn’t sure what had happened. She said your name in a whimper and asked for help. Even if you couldn’t entirely remember every occasion you had read about in the comics, you did a few, you fell for the blatant and false redemption act.
A crooked smile appeared on Psionica’s lips. “Why? I have you precisely where I want you both.” Darting in the air, her arm was outstretched again like before. And before either you or Miasma had time to react, she was down to her wrist into your still exposed head. In a panic, the symbiote tried to untangle herself from your body, numerous rubber tentacles shooting outwards in an attempt to latch onto the ground and anything within reach to help pull herself out. She, like Psionica, understanding that your fleshy parts offered a bridge to reprogram both.
Earlier, she wanted a mindless drone, but Miasma would be far more useful with her mind intact, if under Psionica’s total influence. The azure wraith severed her hand and pulled away.
The dispersing of her psychic essence suffused your brain and momentarily turned every sensation, from sight to hearing, into blue.When the last of the latex tendrils enclosed your head, the arachnid lenses were lit with a neon blue light. With a monstrous snarl the changes rippled across your muscular frame as the accents, markings, and talons also began to glow in the same color. You were Psionica. More accurately, fragments of you were your mistress: her endless ambitions, unrestrained desires, and absolute evil. And, like the hand the villianess had lost, you obeyed the main body completely. Doing anything else was unthinkable. But beneath that constant connection you were still yourself and Miasma.
Your mistress seemed satisfied with her victory. Spent also. You noticed one of the enslaved convention goers approaching Psionica and with her remaining hand clutching their neck, drained them of everything. Where the person formerly stood, now only a collar and clothes lay collapsed in an empty heap. After feeding, she no longer seemed as pale as a ghost and possessed a more vibrant crackling in her electricity. “Wait for the heroes and let yourself be captured and take all the blame.” She sent the slack-jawed Vic a sly glance before returning to inspect her flexing fingers of her regenerated hand.
Turning to float away from this scene, Psionica crooked a finger and indicated for you to follow. “Think I’ll call you Melissa since your old name doesn’t suit you. Or Miasma. Didn’t have time to tell you earlier. We’re breaking up. But a position as my right hand woman and bed slave has opened up.” At the moment she had no use for the captives, making them and everyone else she controlled forget about her. Selectively, she also altered a few of Vic Lector’s memories through his cybernetics. Enough to hide herself and claim a few of his hidden assets and equipment while still drawing on some of his nearly endless resources. Once they were gone, she’d release her control completely.
You paused long enough to extend tentacles over the pair of dead goons, enveloping them in black cocoons that converted their biomass into latex. And your body swelled further with the added material before settling down again to a size still far taller than a normal humans. After digesting that nourishing meal that still left you craving for more, your fanged grin was vicious as you proceeded to lick your lips with an unnaturally long and thick tongue. She was not the only one that had been hungry or had to heal.
When you started to walk behind your villainous mistress, your clawed feet transformed into a pair of heels as the rest of your latex form shifted to reveal a beautiful blonde young woman in a stern secretarial outfit. Your irises still held a blue glow even in your human form. “I accept both positions Lady Psionica. If I may ask, where are we going?”