I swallow hard as I toss my footwear to the side, my hands brushing against my jeans an an attempt to clean them off before I handle the book.
"Okay... Let's just..." I mutter, gently grabbing at the paper and pulling the book free. As I slide it out I find myself holding a strange indigo leather tome with an image of oddly shaped humanoids and tendrils etched into the cover, the cover practically throbbing in my hand like some living thing.
"That's..." I begin to muse, my eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the strange shapes on the cover. However, my words are cut short as the book rips open and a sudden slithering forces crams itself into my gullet.
I choke and gag, my eyes watering as I feel something writhe and grind itself down into my stomach. The invading force soon begins to coil, poking and prodding me from the inside as it seems to test the bounds of its new environment. Tears stream down my face as the alien consciousness continues to pour in through my mouth, my stomach and throat bulging to make from for the unseen force.
I quickly try to drop the book, lurching back away from the book in the hopes of freeing myself. I feel the squirming mass inside me brace itself, stiffening as it holds the book aloft from inside me. Suddenly, I feel something wrap itself around my wrists as my arms are quickly pinned to my sides. These new immaterial tendrils soon brace and old the book steady, the mass inside my stomach quickly easing as it searches for whatever it was looking for.
I howl in terror, the muffled noise barely escaping past my lips as I feel my jaw begin to unhinge with the sheer girth of the intruder. The poking from inside my continues more and more forcefully until finally I feel it press upwards towards my heart. My blood freezes in my veins as I feel the tendril press into my heart, the worming force quickly plunging into the vital organ as I feel it begin to hollow out.
As the void in my chest grows and grows I feel the tendril quickly make itself home inside the strange gap in my chest cavity, the impossible space quickly becoming home to the alien intruder. With each inch that plunges deeper inside me I begin to see a faint purple glow emanating from the book, a blurred outline of octopus-like tentacles slipping out from the pages of the book as they grapple my arms.
My eyes go wide as I feel the pressure on my jaw wane, the force holding it open waning as the grips on my wrist begin to ease as well. Suddenly I watch as the tentacles withdraw from my wrist before racing up to my face. In an instant I feel them squirm into my mouth as the book slams to the floor, the main tendril leading the way as the smaller few quickly squirm their way inside me.
I crumple to the floor, my jaw and stomach aching after the abuse they had just gone through. Drooling and groaning on the floor I quiver and twitch, my body simply refusing to respond to much of anything as my mind races to catch up to what just happen.
Suddenly, I feel my heart begin to beat rapidly and in a frenzy. My blood quickly begins to run hot, hotter than it had ever down so before. It almost feels as though it's boiling me from the inside, my muscles melting under the heat as I feel the sweat covering my body quickly begin to evaporate away.
The scent of charred meat, burnt fat, and scorched hair quickly reach my nostrils, the smell quickly getting captured in my oddly baggy clothes as I curl up into a quivering ball of flesh. I quickly lose sense of what any part of me actually is, the distinction between hand and foot or nose and cock quickly losing all meaning as it feels as though I am merely a bundle of living tissue being cooked alive.
With a loud scream, my voice pitching higher and higher by the second, I feel my mass suddenly disperse again. Stumpy arms and legs soon reform, tiny delicate digits quickly following as I splay out on the living room floor. Soft and supple skin quickly turns taut as the overly sensitive flesh begins to cool against the hardwood, the sudden lack of hair leaving little in the way of protection from the cold.
As I inch my eyes open I find myself staring out through an inky black fringe, the strands of hair being as dark as the night sky and deep as the sunless depths of the sea. Quivering on the floor I struggle to move, my eyes darting around as I search for something, anything, anyone to help me. Suddenly I catch a reflection, my gaze locking to the powered down television as I squeal in terror at woman looking back at me.
The woman in the reflection is practically swimming in my former, now drenched, clothes. She could barely be five foot even, if that, with a diminutive frame lacking much in the way of fat or muscle to speak of. Pathetically small ad weak, even her chest and rear only sports enough mass to leave her with a pert ass and small modest chest.
My eye bright blue eyes stare back, wide in horror, now large as eerie saucers alongside the tiny feminine features around the strange woman's face. She is pale as a ghost, almost scarily so, her skin practically glowing under the light streaming in through the kitchen window.
With a grunt I manage to move my arm, slamming it back towards the book in a panic. It must have some information on what had happened to me, the panicked thought being all that held my fragile sanity intact.
I yelp in pain as I miss, cracking my knuckles against the hard wooden floor before sweeping my arm around to clutch as the book. It feel massive in my tiny hand, my stomach sinking further as I realize just how much smaller I was.
With a pained heave I drag the book towards me, my eyes twisting and turning to see the open pages as I slide the indigo book into view. I quickly spy the fanciful cursive on the front page, my watery eyes darting back and forth as I try my best to read the floral penmanship.
14 January 1888
Something taken, something gained.
That's what the voices in the dark had offered and it appears as though they were speaking the truth.
Pale flesh as though it has not seen the touch of he sun and locks as dark as night. While I had hoped for something in return, it appears as though I will require further study to do away with this damned diminutive frame of mine and...
The ink swirls and blends together once more, the entry on the page roiling into a mass of darkness before spreading back out to for a new front page.
The Tome and Journal
of
Ms Jordan Hughes
"I... what..." I blurt out with a cough, my bright and squeaky voice leaving my throat aching as I find it impossible to speak with any level of bass. How anyone could take the squeaky and cutesy voice seriously eludes me, my lips quivering as the thought I was stuck like this until I could find a way back slowly sinking in.
Reaching out I quickly flick through the pages of the, a shuddering breath quickly slipping out as I watch the book merely shift back to the second page after each searching shuffle.
16 January 1888
The voices spoke to me again last night, whispering from beyond the deepest and darkest corners of my mind. 'Magic' they had said, 'Our magic' is fueled from depravity and deviancy. Acts of taboo and fetishes that should be hidden behind closed doors in polite society.
It is no wonder that we forged this connection.
In exchange for observing and even engaging in these acts, they claim, that the powers I seeks will be within my grasp. Shame, embarrassment, and enjoyment will all work in tandem to fuel my works. Surely I can find a woman of easy virtue for the night to assist with my further studies, even if I have not the same equipment she would be used...
The words once again begin to bleed into the page, the words quickly reforming into images and short phrases beside each. An outline of a short woman with cropped black hair suddenly twists onto the top page, a void in her chest almost appearing to pulsate with faint purple light on the paper.
The beating heart and life blood of a mage is their mana, the shades of which determine the spells usable and areas of expertise of the mage. The seven one color is indigo, deviancy and fetishistic pleasure.
To a mage attuned to the indigo, the mere sight of deviant acts should reveal the source of their mana, those embarrassed and ashamed and engrossed and pleasured by the acts concentrating the mana for the mage's usage.
A new image quickly etches itself into the page along the right margin, the black haired young woman clutching at her abdomen in either discomfort or pain as the dark void sits empty and still.
Should an appropriately attuned mage not feed on their chosen shade of magic severe physical symptoms can develop. Hunger pangs, stabbing pain, physical illness and even death may result should the mage not have other colors of mana to fall back on.
One last set of image soon fill the bottom of the page, smaller then the rest. A row of images showing the short dark haired woman in various situations. My eyes glance over them all, drinking in the sight of the outlined woman flashing people, masturbating in the presence of others, wearing dark clingy revealing clothes, tied up on her knees, walking around on all fours with a leash, or even being covered in cum from some unseen men.
The mage will need to maintain their mana, seeking out these fetishistic acts for the mage's embarrassment or pleasure or for the embarrassment or pleasure of others. For any further steps to be taken down the indigo path, the mage must first satiate their new desire.
My stomach churns as I stare at the images, my blood running cold as my eyes dart between the lewd images of the dark haired woman on the pages and my reflection in the TV. My heart races as it all sinks in, a pained grumbling in my rib cage soon gripping my chest before I can even put together my thoughts.
Reaching down I clutch at my chest, my fingers pressing into the soft subtle mounds of fat on my chest as I try to feel where the gnawing ache was coming from. Mentally it's easy to find, the hole the slithering tendrils had burrowed into feeling empty and desperately hungry. However, physically it was impossible to pin down beyond it merely being somewhere inside my chest.
"I... shit..." I hiss, staring at the images on the page before slamming the book shut.
I slowly stagger to my feet on unease legs, my whole body shaking under the strain it had just gone through and the painfully voracious need gripping it. Sweat beads on my brow as I clutch the book to my chest, my staggering steps causing my pants to fall around my ankles.
With a series of shallow breathes I turn my mind to how to survive, how to avoid the 'physical illness and even death' that would follow should I not fulfill this new hunger.
"After... I can fix this after..." I wheeze, swaying on the spot as I try to pin down my plan to survive.
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