PixelJail

Story by Wolvun

 

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Several more Pumpkins slid into the room. What was drawing them? There was no one here but her…

Several had climbed onto the bed now. Their empty eyes no longer roving about, now locked onto Sasha. Edging closer as though she hadn’t noticed them..

What did it matter what they did? She was a pumpkin. The man she had given everything to was now off with his wife, in her body no less! Why do anything at all? Why bother?

The pumpkins were getting closer now. On the table, around Sasha. She remembered what their jagged mouths felt like in the dream. Far more than just sharpened bits of gourds. If she had any luck left, they would be quick.

Deal’s a deal…

The witch’s words floated through Sasha’s head.

Dozens of empty hollow eyes surrounding her. Wicked smiles. Watching, Waiting.

Business as usual…

She could almost see the smile from under the brim.

Sasha closed her eyes. This would be all over shortly. Maybe next time…maybe…maybe next time she’d…she’d….

….if you let it.

Sasha lashed out, her new jagged maw open wide in an attack against the nearest pumpkin. She bit down on a chunk of the face off of a pumpkin. Her mouth was wet. The pumpkins scattered from the room, shrieking in agitation as they fled. Sitting next to half of a pumpkin. Orange goo pooling inside the remains. A wisp of light floating toward the ceiling.

No, this would not be how it ends. She would not be used up and left to die in such a crazy place. She would not be used up so….so …inefficiently. 

That’s what had been bothering her all this damn time. Everything here was a fucking party to them. That witch had found maybe a dozen of these rich pricks that could have been collected from any golf club. Hell, from the same golf club! All gathered here like a bar crawl. Spending what they have before moving on. No long term plan. No short term improvement.

Sasha would not die like a used up whore, to a witch that couldn’t give a shit. That man certainly could have. His company had maybe five years left before all the scandals finally brought it all down onto his head…but that witch…that witch would need someone. Someone to make sure things went as they needed. If she had anything of a business woman in her, then she’d need someone with her at the wheel.

Sasha had thought moving difficult, though it was stopping that was the hard part.

these pumpkins had no inner balance so she didn’t feel sick from rolling over and over. Adjusting and turning then sliding along. Adjusting as she went. Doors were hardly a problem with all the cracks and pathways tucked away or made into the building.

The guests paid little attention to her if she went still. The other Pumpkins left her alone as well. The more courageous ones needed only a snarl to send them off for easier prey.

Where was the room? It was worse because of the new angle. Rolling and scooting and moving. Eventually wandering back into the main lobby area.

The pleasantries of before were over. The slaves that had been merely serving were now being used. Harshly. Bound and contorted on display. Tools and toys set up for anyone cruel enough to draw blood.

And there they were. Mr Borsen and Sasha’s body, hosting his wife. Walking without shame, brandishing a thick studded dildo over a woman bent double. It turned out that Mrs. Borsen had been hiding a twisted sadist behind her frail and dying body. She was maniacal, the most energetic of anyone in the room, a whip in one hand and in the other, an even more savage looking dildo than her husband. She was wasting no time, stepping to and from each slave she found, whipping them brutally wherever she felt like, shamelessly taunting and tormenting them. The dildo was aggressively forced into any opening she found. One slave sat tied completely onto a waist high pole, with a ring gag in their mouth, and being used mostly as a public ashtray. Mrs. Borsen saw the slave but had no cigarettes. She took the dildo and rammed it deep into the slave’s mouth, while she leaned over and spat on their face, telling them through laughter that she’ll be back later when she has a smoke to share.

Both of them were made for a place like this. Mrs Borson might have seen her in the shadows, as she watched horrified at their behaviour. She bared her carved fangs and vanished into the darkness. She didn’t have time for this. Where the hell was that room?

The doorways all looked the same. Sasha’s temperament flared. Lashing out at any Pumpkin that she crossed. Even leaving bloodied ankles before darting on. She didn’t care if they saw her, so long as she found what she needed. She was becoming impatient, angry, upset. Aroused. She could almost hear it again.

Hunger

A familiar orange scarf caught her attention. Flicking about before flowing into a side room. The one she had been looking for. 

—

Serena floated in mid air in the room, lounging back at an angle, as if on an invisible chair, her feet only tickling against the floor. Turning the tablet over and over. Curiously inspecting the item. She had seen people using these.She saw no reason to have one. It seemed a waste of time, when everyone came on their own anyway.

Poking at the screen, just like she had seen Walter Borsen poking the smaller version he had kept around. She must have been holding or poking it wrong. She frowned as the device did not react. Bah, she had other things she could do instead of solving this little mystery.

A sudden shriek drew her attention toward the doorway. A Pumpkink bolted into the room, one of hundreds or so of the creatures that lurked about the Estate. Bouncing off her ankle again and again. Tilting her head, Serena chuckles. 

“Now now little one, there isn’t anything for you here. The torment to watch is elsewhere, silly gourd.” Giving the Pumpkink a light push back toward the door with her foot. 

The Pumpkink replies by sinking its teeth into her exposed ankle.

Serena sat back in the air, lifting her ankle with an inquisitive look. 

“There is nothing there little one. Wasn’t I clear?” 

The small creature struggles. Teeth twisting and reddening as it gets onto the leg. Blood dribbling from the open wounds yet Serena does not react. 

“You’re a funny little Pumpkink aren’t you? How interesting,” she chuckles as the Pumpkink slides up trying to bite onto the tablet out of her hands.

“Oh? Help yourself.” She shrugs and lets go of the annoying device. 

The Pumpkink drops to the floor while Serena crossed her legs, still floating mid-air, blood no longer dripping, and the wounds already gone. She watched curiously as the small creature pressed its fleshy carved teeth and face against the device, seemingly with a perfect understanding of how to operate it. The screen changed from various images and shapes with every press, the specific places to press on the screen appearing almost like a ritual. How did this Pumpkink understand this device? This must be one of the smart Pumpkinks, but she couldn’t understand how even the smartest of Pumpkinks could have ever got a hold of one of these things. The Pumpkink tapped away at it with its stem, and clicked away until the device spoke.

“I want to make a deal, Witch.”

“Ha ha! How wonderful. Here I thought you little Pumpkinks couldn’t surprise me! It’s so nice to see some variety in the bunch.” Serena giggled to herself, impressed.

“I want to make a deal Witch” the tablet repeats.

“You have nothing for me to deal with, gourd. That’s a fun trick, but a talking box is of no use to me. I can already talk, see?” Serena mocked.

“I am Sasha. I can help.” the device droned.

Serena mulled over the comment. Sasha Sasha…That was familiar.

“Oh! You’re the little pocket squeeze Walter had! Wow, you managed to keep your mind very intact during your transition. I’ve been through that before myself, it’s rough. But that body isn’t yours anymore sweetie, tough luck!”

Serena hovered down towards the Pumpkink, inspecting curiously.

“Don’t want body. I want deal. I can help.” the tablet buzzed back at her.

“And what help could I possibly get from you?” Sasha smirks. 

The Pumpkink frowns, turning and continuing to operate the tablet. Bringing up screen after screen of information on Mr. Borsen’s company. A long list of pictures, names and numbers.

The witch remained clueless, still watching in fascination at the Pumpkinks determination, only guessing what could be happening. Possibly some effort to get revenge against her? But what could this device do to harm her? She dismissed the thought. Maybe it wanted revenge on Walter Borsen, who made the deal?

“You think me some avenging angel now?” Serena rolls over in mid air. looking bored now as she talked over her shoulder. “Make your point.” 

The Pumpkink continues to click away. Soon, the device presents more than just the pictures and numbers. It is showing connections as well. Seems Mr. Borsen preferred to keep the shady people he knew though his company so it does not connect to him directly.  Every dirty deal, shady contact and blemish laid bare from the one who had been tasked to keep such things under lock, key and password. 

Serena raises an eyebrow. Whole new lists of rich perverts that she could bring to the Mansion every year, along with their most hated enemies, sure to fetch a great price as revenge slaves. The opportunities were real.

“You do nothing. I help. I bring more. I do better.” The tablet chirps. 

Serena mulls. Rolling onto her stomach as she touches her lips as she muses. Looking up somewhere into her hat. The pumpkink, Sasha, did not move. Watching the witch as she pushes off of nothing back onto her feet. A familiar smile crossing her lips.

“You know you won’t be of much help like this, you don’t even have a body! How about we fix that?” She snaps her fingers and the room goes dark. 

Every candle and chandelier extinguished at once. Plunging the room into darkness. Yet a part of the room continues to darken before the darkness bulges outward. 

“I look forward to seeing if you can live up to your end of the deal, little gourd.”

Serena plunges her hand into the darkness, pulling forth a head. The eyes hang empty. A seam along the back split open like a gimp’s hood. With her other hand, Serena gestures. Lifting the pumpkink Sasha into the air. Floating as witch had done moments ago.

“A deal’s a deal.” Serena points at the fleshy opening in the head, 

Sasha plunged face first into the open head of the loose, empty body, the seam closing up as Serena pulls the rest of the body out of the darkness. The body lay limply on the floor as Serena floated away into the darkness.

“I look forward to working with you, clever little slut!”

—

Sasha snapped out of it, her trip down memory lane coming to a sudden end. She didn’t want to think again about how difficult it was to come to terms with her new body, her new life, and her new powers. Many years after she made that deal, she now found herself doing much of the same work she had done for Mr. Borsen, but with far more autonomy and powers than ever before.

The deal she made worked out pretty well for her. Serena barely spoke to her in regards to business. When she did, it was always Little Gourd. She seemed to find it cute, constantly reminding Sasha how she became a witch, but nonetheless did seem to respect the work Sasha did for her. Certainly much more than Mr. Borsen ever did.

So she started from there. With Serena’s help, she reached out to old contacts with new deals. This expanded out to not only bringing in fresh supplies and bodies, but also finding other interesting figures that caught Serena’s interest, and any other tricks Sasha knew from working internationally. Through the profits, Sasha brought the Estate to the modern age. Electricity and the internet, computers and powered toys. Serena enjoyed all the fruits of Sasha’s labors. Unlike with Mr. Borsen, Sasha became something of a force to be reckoned with as well throughout the manor. Her magical powers may have been limited, and her sadism uniquely absent, but few dared cause problems with her. She was openly recognised as one of the most important people within the Estate, and it was somewhat of an open secret that she lay under Serena’s personal protection.

Morning light was peering through the window as Sasha wrapped up her reading. Filing it all away as she shooed the Pumpkinks back out into the hall. She suspected they could sense that she was an unusual fusion between witch and Pumpkink, and seemed drawn to her. Each time, Sasha would shoo them along back out out of the room. She didn’t mind Pumpkinks and they didn’t mind her..

Except for two.

Tucked away against the wall, two glass cases sit a foot away from each other. Inside are two Pumpkinks. Withered and drooping. A classic sign of starvation. Even if they started becoming moldy, they would always be there. Right up until their flames go out. Sasha made sure that didn’t happen, she always kept them just on the end. Even as the two weakly mewled and stared ahead. Crying for what little could be heard through the glass. Their endless cravings and desperate hunger for sadistic pleasures going ignored.

Sasha only smiled. Standing up and patting the glass, with a smile that revealed her single sadistic pleasure in the Mansion.

“Happy Halloween, Walter…”

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