Duckula’s Embrace

"Oh...something incredible for both of us...I promise...follow me, and I'll show you," replies Lena, her voice unnaturally smooth, her movements stiff as she slides off the crate. Webby hesitates, her instincts prickling. Something is wrong. Lena’s usual playful smirk is gone, replaced by a vacant smile. Her shadow—normally alive with magic—looks too still, too controlled. But love makes fools of even the cleverest ducks. "Okay," Webby says, forcing a grin. "Lead the way." Lena turns and walks toward the fog-choked alleyways near the docks, her steps eerily precise.Lena turns and walks toward the fog-choked alleyways near the docks, her steps eerily precise. Webby follows, her hand drifting toward the hilt of her grappling hook—just in case. The air grows colder, the scent of brine and rust replaced by something metallic... something old. "Lena, where are we—?" Webby starts, but her words die as the fog parts. There, beneath a flickering streetlamp, stands a figure in a black top hat and cape. His silhouette mirrors Scrooge’s, but his eyes burn crimson. Count Duckula grins, fangs glinting. "Ah, the McDuck heir," he purrs

and such a beautiful young lady you've become." Webby’s grip tightens on her grappling hook, her pulse quickening. Duckula’s voice is silk and poison, smooth like aged wine but laced with something far darker. Behind her, Lena stands unnervingly still, her shadow flickering—not with magic, but with something unnatural, something controlled. "You’re not Lena," Webby says, not taking her eyes off Duckula. The Count chuckles, stepping forward with the grace of a predator. "Oh but she is..Just under my spell, and soon you to will be, then the real fun begins now that you both are adults he murrs, eyes illuminating. with a sinister glow. Webby’s instincts scream at her to run, but she steels herself—she won’t abandon Lena. Duckula’s hypnotic gaze locks onto her, and she feels a strange heaviness creeping into her limbs. No. Not like this. With a sharp inhale, Webby twists her wrist and fires her grappling hook upward, yanking herself onto a rusted fire escape just as Duckula lunges.

Webby's breath hitches as she clings to the fire escape, watching in horror as Lena—her sweet, rebellious Lena—begins slowly unbuttoning her jacket with mechanical precision. "Lena, stop!" Webby shouts, but her girlfriend doesn't even flinch. The fabric slips from Lena's shoulders, pooling at her feet as she steps forward, her movements unnervingly graceful under Duckula's thrall. The dim light catches the curves of her body, the sight that would normally make Webby blush now twisting her stomach with dread.

Webby’s breath catches as Lena steps closer, her movements unnaturally smooth under Duckula’s control. The cold night air prickles against Webby’s skin as she grips the fire escape railing, her mind racing. Think, Vanderquack. Think. Lena climbs up to webby Lena’s fingers trail up Webby’s arm, slow and deliberate, her touch sending a shiver down Webby’s spine—not from desire, but from fear. Duckula watches with a predator’s grin, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dark.

"Webby… come…" Lena murmurs, voice hollow. Webby’s fists clench. Lena - fuck me as master fucks you

Lena whispers, her voice dripping with unnatural submission. Her hands slide up Webby’s thighs, fingers pressing possessively into her skin. The words don’t sound like Lena—they sound like him, like Duckula’s poison twisting her tongue. Webby’s heart hammers against her ribs. She can’t fight Lena—won’t hurt her—but she can’t give in. Duckula’s laughter curls through the alley, dark and triumphant. "See how eager she is for you?" he purrs, stepping closer. "You could have her right here, darling.

Duckula’s voice slithered through the air like smoke, thick with dark promise. Lena’s hands trembled against Webby’s waist—not from hesitation, but from the unnatural hunger forced upon her. Her duck lips brushed Webby’s neck, hot and desperate, her breath ragged. Webby’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t Lena. Not really. But gods, it felt like her. Lena -..mmm..give in webs...he can make us eternal, we can be more...my beloved

Lena’s voice was a sultry whisper against Webby’s skin, her fingers tracing the hem of Webby’s shirt with slow, deliberate intent. The heat of Lena’s body pressed against her, the scent of her perfume—usually so comforting Webby’s breath hitched. She could feel Duckula’s presence behind them, his shadow stretching long and hungry across the alley walls. His laughter was a velvet purr, dripping with victory. "Such devotion,"

Duckula murmured, his voice thick with dark amusement. His arms slithered around them both, his black cape unfurling like living shadow, wrapping them in its suffocating embrace. The fabric was cold against Webby’s skin, unnatural—like the grip of the grave itself. Lena melted into the touch, her body pliant under Duckula’s control, her lips trailing hot, needy kisses along Webby’s beak Webby shuddered, trapped between the heat of Lena’s desperate affection and the icy press of Duckula’s presence. His fingers curled possessively around her waist, claws pricking through the fabric of her shirt. As it tears from her body