It is a bloodbath, and you are the sponge.

(CW: ****, but on transphobes)

"You'll never take us alive, race traitor!" A 'pure' blooded basilick screams as Dean Lily reflects her **** stare back at her with a pearl inlay pocket mirror. The vanquishing vampyre swoops in and slits her open so that her dying heart beat sends arterial spray all over her pale skin and soaking her red velvet dress. You absorb as much of it as you can, instinctively intuiting that your Mistress will want to drain you for strength as the battle rages on.

"That's the idea, you puritanical prats!" Dimitrescare licks her claws clean and you see Karin's Kruel Koven pause in a mix of arousal and awe struck terror. "And for the record, you don't taste that pure to me. Ho ho ho!" Lily laughs and covers her mouth with a claw, and a dryad takes the opportunity to slip behind her and strike out with a tangle of thorn covered vines. The Dean stays as cool as cucumber as she continues laughing, slicing through her fearsome foliage like it was wet tissue and lifting her up to drink her dry and wilting. She keeps laughing, letting the sweet sap run down her rosy cheeks and cherubic chin down to you.

You feel almost drunk on **** and destruction and thirsty for more. There is a pregnant pause as the ghoulish girls weigh the value of their lives versus the depths of their hate. Lily uses the pause to offer, "I am not merciful, but I am practical. If any of you nazi nerds want to leave now, I will spare your life. But if you prize your illusion of superiority over the reality of your imminent deaths, then I will gladly gut every last one of you." The TYRFs eye each other warily, no one wants to be the first to flee, but a scared siryn slips out the back and it causes a mad rush to the exits.

Soon, all that is left are the true believers and heavy hitters. A vexing vvitch conjuring in the corner...an overbearing orc, ready to charge...an earth elemental, poised to pounce...and of course, Karin, the valkillrie vying to take your souls to Valhalla. Karin answers for the rest, "We would rather die than accept the impure and imposters! Charge her, my sisters! Some may fall, but she can't kill us all!"

It turns out Karin is as wrong about that as she was about everything else. The elemental strikes first, charging from the Dean's blindside while the Orc leaps straight for you and the vvitch hurls a black bolt of profane power. You know you should be terrified, but you don't doubt Dimitrescare for a second...which is all it takes for her to dispatch all three threats!

She simply sidesteps the rock covered coward attack from behind and sends her smashing into the orc. The bolt strikes the vampyre's chest, but a blood sigil reveals itself and the bolt is instead channelled into her claws. Lily uses the power to peel back the hard shell of the elemental, revealing the soft skin beneath before flicking a finger to clip her aorta and quip, "I suppose you can get blood from a stone. HO HO" The blood is still raining down on her hat and sliding to her heaving breasts where you slurp it up starvingly.

The orc is the next to fall, her heavy hammer clattering to the floor as the Dean crushes her head like a grape and smiles as the juices gush out onto her face like a wet kiss. You imagine the kiss you'll share with Lily later and you giggle giddily at the much deserved destruction and blissful bloodletting.

The vvitch is trying to think up a spell to counter Dimitrescare's blood magik, but before she can call up a curse, the Dean disavows her of her naive notions of supremacy and disemboweles her for good measure. It makes a perversely pleasurable PLOP and you wonder if some of your beauty's bloodlust didn't seep into you now that you can share her sensations. That, or just the righteous revelry of seeing transphobic try hard tyrants get their just desserts.

"You think that scares me? All of these bitches were weaker than me! I have fought gods, you ghoulish gash! I will turn your tits into my pillow and you face into toilet paper! I will URK!" Karin is cut off by her blood thickening to the consistency of wet cement. All Dimitrescare had to do was feed on enough powerhouse 'pure' bloods to draw on the strength to perform what you, and certainly Karin, considered a long lost blood rite and slow her circulation to a crawl. She dies not as a warrior in heated battle, not as a martyr in exquisite agony, but like the petulant pimple she is, suffocating and swelling until her blood bursts from inside her, popping her like a piñata!

"You aren't worth getting my hands dirty. And I won't drink your foul blood. The survivors will be expelled unless they renounce their prejudices and enroll in sensitivity courses. Your thralls will be freed when I feed them your hearts. Your fallen friends final drops of blood will be washed away by the slime you sought to subjugate. And after a nice long bath, I'll wash you out of my hair and forget you and your cruel, cowardly cult ever existed, as will everyone. HO HO HO HO HO!" Dean Lily Love Dimitrescare laughs haughtily, and you laugh along hysterically for a long, long time.

When it's time to clean up, the Dean pulls you off her shoulders and you PLOP back to your pretty plump form and start to swallow and dissolve the remains of the reviled refuse. You save the hearts for freeing thralls and the rest you absorb until the room is sparkling clean and you are full and sloshing and ready for the first of many sponge baths.

You smile up at your Mistress and she smiles down with a warmth you never dared dream of. She pats your head softly and coos, "Ready for our bath, dearest?" You nod and nuzzle her claws as she scoops you up and lets you slide between her breasts, her heavy heart racing with the blood of the fallen and you hope with love for you. She has a queer sort of caring, but you suppose you'll get used to it.

She strokes you softly as you spread around her soft skin, already slurping up any blood you find on the way to her private quarters. Whether its the affection you might show a pet or the caress of a lover, you quiver and coo the same. You know deep down that this is probably the deepest level of love that you can expect from the shallow, stuck up bloodsucking beauty, but what it lacks in depth, it makes up in breadth, and you will be content to bask and bathe in it for ages to come.

Today...a thousand tomorrows...until...