Deal with Team RWBY at Mt. Glenn (Target Ozma's Faction)

Ruins of Mountain Glenn, Underground City

3:14 AM — Thursday, 15th October, 2015

The subterranean cavern is a massive, hollow grave. Rotting concrete towers and rusted steel pillars loom in the dark, lit only by the pale, stagnant glow of raw Dust crystals embedded in the stone walls.

A lone campfire crackles in the center of a ruined plaza. Around it, the four girls of Team RWBY sit in a tight, exhausted circle. A few feet away, Bartholomew Oobleck stands with his hands behind his back, his sharp eyes scanning the dark perimeter. They have no idea they are sitting directly above a White Fang underground railway line. They have no idea the train is already loaded with explosives.

And they never will.

A sudden, crushing weight drops over the plaza. The ambient noise of the cavern—the dripping water, the low rustle of the wind—instantly dies. The fire chokes, its bright orange flames turning a sickly, heavy grey before flattening completely against the wood.

Oobleck snaps to attention, his hand dropping to his weaponized thermos. "Stay alert, girls! Something is fundamentally wrong with the pressure in this sector!"

Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang scramble to their feet, drawing their weapons in perfect sync. The mechanical clicks of Crescent Rose and Ember Celica echo sharply off the concrete. Dozens of glowing red eyes ignite in the dark surrounding the plaza—a massive pack of Beowolves and Creeps. But they aren't growling. They stand perfectly still, forming a silent, submissive wall of black fur and bone plates.

From the center of that silent horde, you step into the dim light of the dying fire.

"Who goes there?" Oobleck demands, stepping in front of his students, his weapon igniting with a blast of fire Dust. He brandishes it in warning.

You don’t answer him. You don’t even look at him. To a deity, the frantic chirping of an insect is nothing more than ambient noise. Instead, you speak to Ruby. "You got very unlucky, you know. I would have come for you eventually anyway, but I was happy playing with the Silver-Eyed Warrior I already have. It could have been years before I remembered to go after you. Unfortunately for you, I've weakened Salem's faction so much that there is a chance Ozma actually wins, so here we are. That said—"

You pause, your gaze slowly drifting across the rest of the group, checking over each girl with the detached, assessing eye of a master surveying prime stock.

Yang undeniably has the most striking body of the four, her gorgeous face framed by a thick cascade of golden hair and vivid purple eyes. Your eyes anchor on her best feature—her remarkably impressive, heavy bust—before tracing down to the curved swell of her hips. She radiates a fierce, stubborn pride that you just know will be incredibly satisfying to thoroughly conquer, bend, and break to your will.

Your focus shifts to Blake. She holds the second-best body in the group, her breasts smaller and more modest than Yang’s, but her ass is far superior—perfectly shaped, tight, and prominently showcased by her form-fitting trousers. Combined with the sleek, feline grace of her twitching cat ears, she is an incredibly exotic prize. She will make a magnificent, submissive pet once she is properly trained.

Next is Weiss. She can't compete with the raw physical curves of Yang or Blake, but her delicate, princess-like features carry their own distinct appeal. Between her pale, flawless porcelain skin, the striking white hair caught up in her off-center ponytail, and the sharp, radiant blue of her eyes, she represents a pristine, aristocratic doll. She is an asset designed to be completely despoiled, systematically stripped of her royal dignity, and taught the absolute reality of her new ownership.

Finally, your eyes come back to rest on Ruby. She is the youngest, her petite frame practically swallowed by her red cloak, her silver eyes wide with an innocent, frantic confusion. Her body isn't as impressive as her sister's or the warrior you already possess, but that doesn't matter. Her greatest asset are her eyes; proof of a direct, uncorrupted lineage carrying a fragment of the God of Light’s own power. A lineage your children could inherit, making Silver-Eyed females almost as valuable as Salem when it came to broodmares. With two of them, they could pump out babies twice as quickly.

"—I'm not unhappy it played out like this," you finish smoothly. "You four are going to look magnificent in chains."

Oobleck, processing your words, drops into a low crouch and lunges forward with elite speed, his blazing weapon slicing through the air toward your throat.

You don't move a muscle. You simply look at him.

With a microscopic flex of your reality-altering will, the kinetic energy of his strike is instantly deleted. The blazing Dust fire vanishes into nothing. Oobleck freezes mid-air, the fundamental laws of momentum completely rewritten around his body. Before he can even process the shift, the air pressure around his chest spikes to an impossible degree. The concussive **** implodes his ribs instantly, crushing his heart and lungs in a silent, seamless compression.

He drops to the stone floor like a discarded rag doll, dead before his body even registers the impact.

"Professor!" Ruby screams, her voice cracking in pure terror.

"You monster!" Yang roars. Ember Celica chambers a shell with a violent crack, and she hurls herself forward, her boots shattering the concrete beneath her as her semblance ignites in a burst of furious gold.

She throws a devastating, explosive right hook straight at your jaw.

The punch lands flush against your skin. The kinetic explosion is deafening, tearing a shockwave through the plaza that shatters the surrounding glass ruins. But your head doesn't even tilt. Yang’s eyes widen in absolute horror as the recoil of her own strike travels backward up her arm, snapping her wrist and fracturing her forearm against your unyielding skin. She lets out a sharp, breathless gasp of agony.

You catch her by the throat mid-shatter, your fingers clamping down effortlessly, cutting off her breath and her semblance in a single, crushing grip. Her massive breasts press tightly against your arm as she writhes, helpless and suffocating against your chest.

Behind you, Weiss and Blake lunge in a ****, synchronized flank. Weiss executes a complex glyph chain, summoning a torrent of freezing ice to bind your legs, while Blake uses her shadow clone to launch herself toward your blind spot, her blade aimed at your jugular.

You don't bother turning around. You simply wave a hand.

The ice glyphs shatter into harmless, sparkling dust. An invisible, telekinetic wall slams into Blake and Weiss simultaneously with the **** of a runaway freight train. They are hurled backward across the plaza, crashing into the concrete pillars. Weiss’s aura shatters with a bright white flash before she falls limp, ****. Blake struggles to her knees, coughing up blood, her cat ears pinning flat against her head in sheer, primal terror. Another kinetic blast to the back of her head knocks her out as well.

Ruby stands alone in the center of the ruins, her hands trembling so violently she can barely hold the shaft of her scythe. "Please..." she whimpers, a bright, blinding silver light beginning to leak from the corners of her eyes—the ancient power of the Silver Warriors activating under the weight of her trauma.

The silver light erupts. A brilliant, searing beam consumes the entire cavern in a flash of divine white, the ancient anti-Grimm power roaring through the dark plaza like an exploding star.

When the radiance dies, you remain standing completely untouched, still holding an **** Yang by the throat. You blink, entirely unfazed by the legendary magic. Ruby, on the other hand, crumples instantly. The sudden, violent awakening of her heritage drains her completely, leaving her helpless and unresponsive on the cold stone.

You still don't let go of Yang, even with the entirety of Team RWBY incapacitated. You are waiting to see if Raven Branwen will take the bait and try to save her daughter. She does.

A jagged tear in reality rips open directly behind you.

A vertical slash of pitch-black and crimson energy widens into a portal, and Raven Branwen steps through the threshold. Her grimacing Grimm mask conceals her face as she draws her massive red nodachi, moving with blinding, **** speed to **** you to drop her daughter. The heavy, Dust-infused steel blade strikes your bare neck with the resounding clang of a church bell. The metal shatters instantly, throwing a dozen jagged, glowing shards across your collarbone.

Raven freezes, her hidden eyes widening beneath her mask as the sheer impossibility of the resistance registers.

"Perfect timing. I was wondering how long it would take you to show up to rescue Yang," you say, finally letting the blonde brawler drop to the floor. "Now let's make sure you can't run away, yeah?"

You flex your reality-warping will. The crimson tear snaps shut, severing her exit. At the exact same moment, your power surges through her nervous system, locking her muscles in place. Raven gasps, her body turning completely rigid, pinned to the spot without the ability to move a single finger. Another silent flex seals away her Spring Maiden magic just as thoroughly as you did Salem's.

You reach out and peel the bone mask from her face, exposing her pale, sweat-slicked features and the raw panic in her crimson eyes.

Holding her jaw, you turn her face from side to side, studying her closely. She looks exactly like an older, riper version of her daughter—sporting the same sharp facial structure but with dark black hair instead of blonde. Your gaze slides down to her chest. You reach out to grasp her breasts, squeezing and kneading them firmly. They are just as full and heavy as Yang's. Turning her around, you run a hand down her waist to grope her tight, mature rear, feeling the rigid tension of her paralyzed muscles beneath your palm. They are exceptional, but they could be better.

"I'm going to make some improvements to you," you murmur, turning her head back toward you. The bandit queen who prided herself on her personal strength stares at you in absolute terror. "If you don't want me to change you, just say so and I'll stop."

Nothing comes out of her paralyzed throat.

"Well, don't say I didn't give you a chance."

The transformation starts with her flesh. All the dense, practical muscle responsible for her physical prowess dissolves, leaving her body soft, yielding, and weak. Her breasts, already impressive, swell dramatically larger, inflating like obscene balloons until they're grotesquely oversized, each one larger than her head. They defy gravity entirely, sitting high and impossibly perky on her chest despite their massive weight. Her waist cinches inward to an ****, creating an exaggerated, hyper-curved hourglass. Her hips flare wide, her thighs thickening with soft, jiggly fat while her ass balloons outward into a massive, heart-shaped bubble that would make sitting normally impossible.

Her combat-practical clothing dissolves into ash, rewritten in an instant into one far better suited for her new life: a tight pink crop top that can barely contain her new tits, the fabric stretched so thin her nipples are clearly visible through it. Below, a white micro-skirt that doesn't even reach mid-thigh, showing off the lacy pink thong underneath with every tiny movement. On her feet, six-inch pink stiletto heels complete the transformation.

You save her face for last. Her lips plump outward, swelling into a permanent, pouty fuck-me expression that glistens as if she'd just applied fresh gloss. The real change, however, are her eyes. While the crimson color and sharp shape remain physically unchanged, the fierce intelligence behind them instantly dies as you systematically burn away decades of hard-earned tactical wisdom, knowledge, and survival instincts. Her vocabulary shrinks, her capacity for complex thought evaporates, and her IQ plummets into the single digits. In the hollowed-out vacancy of her mind, you implant a hyper-fixation on your pleasure, hardwiring her brain until all that remains of the feared bandit queen is a vapid, giggly bimbo whose entire existence revolves around your cock, serving your desires, and looking pretty enough to be used.

"That'll do," you say, a dark smile spreading across your face.

You release the paralysis. Raven—or what used to be Raven—blinks her vacant red eyes in confusion, looking down at her transformed body as she slowly gets to her feet. She does a little, unintentional, twirl as she cranes her head to look at her ass, giggling as it makes her dizzy.

"Oh my gosh, like, what happened to my clothes?" she squeaks in a breathy, Valley Girl accent. "These are totally cute though!" She cups her enormous tits, squeezing them together with another airheaded giggle. "And my boobies are, like, SO big now! That's, like, totally hot!"

She looks up at you, her empty red eyes lighting up with pure, simple lust. "Oh wow, you're, like, really hot, master! Wanna fuck me? I'm, like, super horny!"

You hold out an arm and Raven eagerly steps into your embrace, wrapping her soft arms around your neck and kissing you with lips that taste like sweet cherry gloss. As you hold her, you infuse her body with your final gift: immortality. She will never age, and she will never die, ensuring the Spring Maiden power remains permanently locked within her rewritten mind. Even if someone managed to infiltrate your fortress, kidnap her, and break your seal on her magic, the bimbo in your arms is now far too stupid to ever focus enough to call upon her magic, let alone summon the concentration required to unlock the vault door beneath Haven Academy. The Relic of Knowledge is now completely inaccessible.

With an arm still resting on Raven's plump ass, you glance at the **** huntresses scattered across the ruins. With a silent flex of your will, you teleport yourself, Raven, and the members of team RWBY, leaving only the dying fire behind as you return with your prizes to the obsidian halls of Evernight Castle.

Notes & Disclaimers: For this story (and this will be reinforced in-text as well) the four hunter academies are basically colleges for being a Huntress, whereas combat schools like the one on Patch are like high school. All the girls in this story are over 18.