The Dead Tree Summit

Perhaps the most important facet of personal growth is being able to analyze and learn from one's own actions. Without that, life is just a cruel sort of karma suck-hole, endlessly wallowing in the same mistakes and the same repercussions without any way forward. To wit: the first time you had a meeting at the community college, you didn't see the planning all the way through and, as a result, were almost choked to **** by a magical tyrant in a pantsuit. But you learned from your mistakes, so when it came time for the second meeting you'd made sure the groundwork was done and came away victorious. Suck-hole avoided, personal growth achieved.

That being said.

Because your brain hates you and is your enemy, you're simultaneously convinced you've both under planned and over planned for this meeting with the Others. On one hand, you're almost entirely convinced that whatever happens, they won't be able to try anything tonight. This isn't like when you walked into the Dean's office with a magical milked-up Peppermint Mocha and a prayer. The contract you and that hot asshole Aisha formed is very real and very binding; there can be no attack from either side until after the summit without serious consequences. And from what you've learned between pouring over the Book with Isabelle and whatever information about magical meet-ups you were able to pump from Donna, the summit can't end until you've all agreed to a new set of terms. Sure, those terms are usually 'let's all try to kill each other right now', but being that your group is in the position of power, you should be able to dictate terms that give you at least a little breathing room.

At least you think. And that's where the bit about over planning comes in. As the date of the summit drew nearer, you found yourself increasingly doubting and second-guessing every aspect of it. Are you really the ones in the stronger position? Was the contract really binding, or was that just an elaborate ploy? Due diligence is important, but at a certain point you were being self sabotaging. And what's more, your paranoia was starting to make Isabelle and Jenny more nervous. For better or worse, you're kinda the leader of this Milk Lady Magic Club, and you need to project confidence.

So here you are, on Thursday night, standing with your two best friends by the Dead Tree, unsure to what degree plus or minus you've missed the mark on planning. But you're projecting confidence, dammit. And at least you look fucking hot.

Isabelle clearly agrees, given how she can't resist ogling you whenever her mind wanders. She and Jenny had both opted for something of a casual look, the former in her cardigan and halter top and the later in a trademark polo shirt and shorts. Isabelle's dreams of a matching Hex Girls ensemble died when she quickly realized that she had nothing with even a chance of fitting Jenny's newly expanded figure, let alone your otherworldly gifts. But you've got endless money, VIP status at all of the best alt slash goth boutiques in the Tri-State area, and a deep desire to please your horny girlfriend. This is a stressful night for everyone, and Isabelle is no exception. If she wants a Hex Girl, she's getting a fucking Hex Girl.

It's honestly not that far off from something you'd wear normally anyway: a thigh-high black dress with a white blouse underneath, a white frilly ascot, black platform Mary Janes, and red knee high socks. Maybe the dress's hem is a bit higher than what would strictly be accurate, sure. And the way your enormous boobs project out from the tight dress, the ascot spread daintily across that majestic shelf in an almost comical gesture towards modesty, is definitely not show appropriate. But if Isabelle minds, she has a funny way of showing it. Your lips still buzz with the passionate kiss you shared just moments ago, a smug-looking Jenny good enough to pretend she was distracted by arranging the multitude of baseball bats in the truck of her car as you and Isabelle snuck in a last-minute snogging sessions before the summit finally began.

Which is now. It's begun now. You...guess? It's just the three of you so far. Rhys and Donna agreed to keep watch over the Price and Park residences while the meeting went on, just in case, and with the Woo Girls doing the same at the Vargas-Holt compound. But the Others are nowhere to be seen. Jenny folds her arms in show of casual poise, quirking an eyebrow towards you. "They're showing up late. That's so bush league."

True enough. You can only shrug. "They're obligated to get here, or I'm pretty sure they turn into docile cows. If they want to risk that on bullshit power plays, they should feel free."

Isabelle starts to respond, then raises her eyebrows and gives an indicating nod as she notices something further down the quad. "That must be them."

You turn and, sure enough, two robed figures are approaching your position at the Dead Tree. Judging by the height disparity it's clear which is Gal and which is Aisha, and the matter is only made clearer when they get close enough to see what the three of you are wearing. "Aw, fuckin'...for real?!" The shorter figure throws her arms out to indicate Jenny and Isabelle, shooting her taller companion what seems like a look of annoyance. "They didn't bother with this costume shit at all. I'm taking this fucking robe off."

The taller one shrugs, the faint glow of amber eyes shining within her hood. "Suit yourself."

Without further ado, Gal struggles out of her ornate robe, carelessly dumping the ceremonial garment on the ground. Huh, this is actually the first time you've seen her wearing clothes, and it's sort of weirding you out. Gal clearly raided the kid's section of a Target or something, price tags still dangling off of the sky blue baby tee she's barely stuffed herself into. You think that was originally a panda on the chest, but the stress lines her heavy breasts have put into it have left the poor thing so warped that you expect the World Wildlife Fund to get involved. And she's not doing much better with that skirt; it's so short it barely covers her crotch, and it's so tight around her thick thighs and bulging stomach that she...

...wait, something's wrong about that.

Jenny beats you to the punch, though judging by the way that Isabelle sputters she didn't miss it either. "Holy fuck! Gal, are you pregnant?"

"Eh?" The feral witch glances down at the rounded curve of her exposed tummy, looking for all the world like she's several months along. "Oh. Yeah, I guess? Don't worry though; it's probably not human this time."

That prompts more sputtering from Isabelle. "This time?! Not human?!"

Gal clearly could not find the whole situation more mundane. "Yeah. It's going way too fast for that, even with my fucked up lady parts. I'll probably just wind up queefing out a big cloud of nightmare bullshit again." She begins casually drumming her fingers across her ripe stomach. "Though if it winds up being a kid, we can always find some dumb Senator to pass it off to."

Aisha chuckles, her eyes two smoldering gems within the darkness of her hood . "That's always a fun scam. There are, like, six Senators and CEOS who all think they're currently raising the Anti-Christ." Aw fuck, did she just wink at you? The sexy monster caught you staring. "Things are going to be really interesting and really messy in like ten years, I'll tell you that much."

Gal hums in excitement. "Maybe it'll tentacle monsters again! Fuck, that night was the best. That was the last time I actually came, you know?"

That manages to knock Jenny out of her stupor enough for the girl to tsk scornfully. "Seriously? You've literally orgasmed right in front of us before." She throws an accusatory finger towards Gal's glistening thighs. "You fucking trash pervert! You're cumming right now!"

Gal blows her lips at Jenny. "Shows what you know. Here, look." Before any of you can protest, the depraved witch flips up her skirt to reveal the fattest pussy you've ever seen, all but crushed between her lush thighs. "I stopped feeling any of this shit, like, years ago. It's like I built up a sex resistance or whatever." She reaches down to firmly spank her overgrown privates as she continues on, her voice not even quavering as her obscene mound spasms and gushes down her already sticky leg. "I magicked the hell out of this thing to try and fix it, kicked my sensitivity up to, I don't know, a billion or whatever. And that helped for a while? But not any more; I think I burned out the pleasure centers in my brain or something." She shrugs again, letting her skirt drop and carelessly wiping her cummy hand off on her own shirt. "So yeah. It only counts if I feel it, and that hardly ever happens. Feel free to fuck off if you disagree, you fuckin' prude."

You decide to cut in there, mostly because you desperately want to talk about literally anything else. "Where's the rest of your group? I don't believe for a second it's just the two of you."

Aisha nods. "Of course not. Our last member should be here soon; don't worry about it."

Ugh, who are you telling not to worry about something, you delicious mind fucker? You're so peeved by Aisha's newly adopted reasonable air that Isabelle notices the alarms of your runes going off before you do. She tugs on your sleeve. "Ash?"

You blink, pulling yourself out of your funk to focus on what's happening. "Something is trying to break through the shields here."

Jenny scoffs, rolling her eyes at Aisha and Gal. "Seriously? That's what you're trying? Good luck with that."

Well, she's not wrong, but...hrm. Something about this feels off. You shoot a sidelong glance at the suddenly passive Aisha, mind racing as you try to decide what this could possible mean. No way this is just a frontal attack; they know better than you that that would be a direct violation of your contract. Using **** against the other party would be a one-way ticket to Milky Bimbo Land, so why would they....oh.

Oh!

Jenny's eyes widen as your shields abruptly vanish, Isabelle leaning in to hiss a concerned whisper into your ear. "What are you doing?"

You wrap a reassuring arm around Isabelle's waist, raising your voice to address Aisha and Gal. "Don't worry, babe. I'm just lowering the runes so the last guest can arrive. Because if my runes stopped her from being able to make it, I would be in breach of our contract, right?"

Gal's response is simply to flip you the bird, though Aisha offers a rueful sigh. "Told her that wouldn't work."

Jenny frowns. "Told who."

The robed witch merely points upwards to where a line of silver had begun to spark and fizz in the sky above the Dead Tree. It sizzles like the world's largest sparkler as it cuts a human-sized oval out of of the air, a cascade of crimson and starlight bursting forth from it like a combination grand staircase and red carpet as a figure begins to descend. She's practically dripping with style and grace in her richly brocaded dress and fine lace blouse, a cameo of what must be ivory pinning her gorgeous ascot. Every inch of her clothing is perfectly paired to her rich caramel skin and blindingly white smile, her perfect head of undercut ringlets looking as if she's left a stylist's chair mere moments ago. She presents such a dazzling display as she slowly struts down to you that it takes you a moment to notice that she's got her gleaming hazel eyes affixed squarely on you. What is that look? Anticipation? Contempt? Triumph? You're so shook that it takes you even longer to realize that you know that face, because you've spent multiple hours now obsessively watching it trash-talk your mom.

It's Queen Bea. It's fucking Queen Bea, dressed in a couture version of the exact same outfit you have on. There's simply nothing you can say as she primly takes the final step to the ground, the magical staircase vanishing behind her in a puff of silvered red. She offers Aisha and Gal a nod, then turns her head ever so slightly to look at you. She raises an eyebrow, slides her eyes down you once, then slides them back up again with the slightest quirk of her lips.

Then she sniffs and turns towards Jenny, completely ignoring you as she claps her hands together. "So! Shall we begin?"