Jamie rarely, if ever, found himself overdressed. In his line of work, prowling through boardrooms and cubicles of finance firms, a good suit and tie was exactly the right attire. Yet his expensive business shoes were tracking mud and grass the further he walked into the Renaissance fair, where everyone looked like some fanciful medieval peasant with varying degrees of accuracy. He chuckled at that, wondering why they were even called renfairs. Peasants didn’t have easy access to leather and certainly wouldn’t wear it like a brasier. Though these thoughts he realized were a distraction from his real question; why was he here and how did he get there? The last thing he remembered was a boring board meeting he slipped out of to flirt with the new secretary. She was cute, if a little apprehensive, giving him a card that he couldn’t quite place. The next thing he knew, he was at the fair. He sighed. The pink mouse even got a new shampoo to make his red hair shine. Women liked a well-managed hairstyle after all. Sure the ponytail on business guys hasn’t been a thing since the eighties but Jamie was convinced he could bring it back. He saw a wolf woman in tight leather with a gold-trimmed blouse and smiled, realizing he must have come to the fair to pick up women. Yes, Jamie reasoned, knowing roleplayers and serious ren fair goers fuck and fuck often. Though it didn’t explain why he didn’t look the part. Shrugging, Jamie cast the thought aside and set about finding some wenches, figuring that his salary was enough to convince some ladies to listen to his tales. An hour later he was sitting in a propped-up tavern, alone, bitterly drinking sweet cider not worth the listed expense. One of many things worth far too much in this shame of an experience. He could afford it, he made six figures easily, but that didn’t gain any interest with the fairgoers. If anything it caused them to laugh, as if he were some fool missing his rod and hat. He grimaced, downing the rest of the cider and wiping his mouth dry with his suit sleeves. Whatever reason he had to come wasn’t worth it. Making his way to leave, the mouse stopped when noticing a deep blue tent in the middle of two booths. A single wooden sign was perched out in front, reading “Fortune Teller” in script reserved for old English text. He scoffed at the notion, working long enough in finance to know that the future couldn’t be predicted. If people had such power then the stock market wouldn’t be propped by stilts. Seeing nothing better to do before leaving, Jamie slipped inside the tent. It was spacious inside, with bean bag chairs over a purple carpet. In the center stood a single table with black metal stands and a pearl-white marble surface. Behind it was a pair of yellow eyes staring back at him. A soft hiss filled the air whenever a forked tongue slipped from the darkness before him. He blinked, realizing the darkness was a silhouette of a person as it moved, their head wide until a flickering match revealed it as the hood of a cobra. “You may pick your jaw up.” Her voice was soft but commanding, soothing with an edge that hooked him close. “Unless you wish to gather dirt in your mouth.” She added with a smile. Jamie clenched his jaw, not realizing he’d let it drop so easily. “S-Sorry,” he said, straightening himself for some semblance of decency and control. “It’s not every day I meet so…” “Big?” She perked her brow, “Or is ‘mysterious’ the word you’re looking for?” Despite his profession, Jamie rarely ran into snakes. The few he did rarely struggled with the letter s. This cobra woman was putting up a font, playing with her pronunciation to the point he pondered if she wanted him to assume she was faking it or not. “It matters not. You’ve come seeking a fortune, yes? An interpretation of your fate in uncertain times?” “Something like that.” Jamie considered just leaving. The way her yellow eyes locked onto him like headlights made moving away awkward. “Though aren’t you a little…off to be a fortune teller?” “Oh?” She tilted her head, licking the air with her forked tongue. “And how should I be dressed? In some garish and culturally exploitative drabardi garb?” “Drabardi?” The snake woman rolled her eyes, “The Romani word for fortune teller.” “Oh,” Jamie blinked. “Yes? It is a renfair after all.” Her laugh was exquisite and terrifying at the same time. “Yes, yes it is. But I care not for the accuracy of clothing or preference. The only truths I seek are of my customers' fates. Their pasts, their presents, and their future. So I ask again, my cute little rouge mouse, have you come to Cassandra for a fortune?” He tried to speak but found something lodged in his throat. Swallowing it down, Jamie nodded. “It, uh, it sounds like fun. Is this like a palm-reading thing? Or do you have some crystal orb you see through?” “Parlor tricks,” she spat. “I consult the tarot to read my client's fortunes. Come. Sit.” Jamie pulled his own bean bag to sit opposite her tiny table. There she dragged a deck of tall cards to him. “Shuffle.” “Me?” He pointed to himself, “Are they not your cards?” “But I am not interpreting my fate. How are the tarot to read your life if you do not interact with them? Besides, this is better, no? You will have, as they say, some semblance of control this way. No tricks. No illusions.” She held up her bare arms, white scales mottled with black spots, “I believe the saying goes, ‘Nothing up my sleeves’ correct?” There was some sense to that, not that Jamie took it to heart. The cards in his hands were rough with use. Thoughts about peering at the pictures lingered in his mind but he could not look away from her gaze. It wrapped around him, coiling so tight he forgot to breathe until she did, then mirrored her slow pattern until the shuffling was finished. “Good.” She unfurled the deck face down. Eyes closed, Cassandra hummed to herself while her hands wafted over the cards, fingers tapping erratically. Whenever it stopped she pushed the card forward until there were three. “Your past, your present, and your future.” The back of the cards were black with a gold trim. The top and bottom mirrored a star pattern, preventing him from guessing if the cards were right side up or upside down. Knowing tarot from its depictions in popular media, Jamie assumed that was important in some way. How exactly eluded him. The first card she flipped depicted a pink mouse in a garish outfit. Sheer clothes like a belly dancer but with a tall hat and gold jewelry adorning the ensemble. Both hands were entrapped by some thick mittens that looked to prevent the ability to hold anything. Before them was an altar with a bowl topping it, overflowing with a white liquid. “The High Priestess,” Cassandra said, humming with interest. “Intuitive, self-reflection, and inner knowledge, if right side up.” Jamie frowned, realizing the cards were not meant to be facing Cassandra but himself. “Upside down it symbolizes repression, whether known knowledge is purposefully hidden, or subconsciously tucked away. You grew up with inner turmoil, didn’t you?” “Doesn’t everyone?” Jamie tried to play it off but his throat tightened. “It’s called puberty.” The snake woman smiled. “Oh, I think yours goes beyond that. The gleam in your hair tells me you’ve not quite let this desire go. A small rebellion to years of resentment? Or is the dam cracking under pressure, whether you want it to or not?” He clutched his red hair. It was smooth and soft, the result of a beautification process he’d mastered over the years. Curling it around his finger he thought about what she was implying, biting his lip in the memory of a youth admiring certain clothes. A childhood where shame waited for him at any moment he shared such thoughts. An experienced bottled, corked, and stashed in a wine cellar that could fill a vineyard in his mind. Her gaze locked on him, never straying as she flipped the next card. He wondered if she could read his thoughts. Her fork tongue tasted the air before speaking. “The Chariot.” The card in question depicted two horses, a mare and an equine, locked in bondage gear and bridles. The pair pulled a single carriage where a wolf maiden sat, her hand clutching a whip. As with the last card, it was upside down. “Normally symbolizing direction, control, and willpower. Reversed it is a lack of control, no direction, and aggression. You are currently wandering through life without purpose, letting your repressions guide you into depravity with the hope you’ll find some sort of answer. But it always ends the same. Disappointment, shame, and anger.” He clenched his teeth. “You presume a lot.” Cassandra did not seem bothered by his sudden loss of tact. “You presume your panties beneath notice.” Jamie reached around, absently pulling his waistband up. “Do not be ashamed. I’m sure your colleagues have complimented them before. Or have they been too busy enjoying your backside behind closed doors? Underneath desks, inside closets, or over tables in boardrooms in the off hours. Always a new face. Never acknowledged afterward.” Every accusation reverberated through his body like the echo of a struck gong. Jamie hunched over, trying not to think of all the intimate moments he had with coworkers behind closed doors. From his frat brothers to interviewers for positions, his boss, his boss’s boss, and even the CEO’s rich son. Hundreds of moments he found himself between their legs, servicing them for favors on the surface but fishing for praise. For the lust in their eyes to keep on him. How could she know? Jamie looked to ask only to discover he hadn’t looked away at all. Cassandra’s eyes stared into him. Fishing his soul to read every intimate moment as she flipped the final card. The image of a hooded figure reflected off her eye, carrying a wicked scythe with a bony finger pointed forward in accusation. “Death.” He forced a laugh. “So that’s my future? I’m going to die? We’re all going to die.” She shook her head with a tsking sound escaping her lips. “Nothing in the tarot is so literal. I blame Hollywood for such misunderstandings. Death is an end of a cycle, yes, but it also means a new beginning. A metamorphosis is awaiting your future. Perhaps one that gives freedom to what you’ve been repressing for so long? Hmm…yes, I see it now.” She moved, revealing how much of the darkness inside the tent was her tail coiled up around him. “Yes, I think you will do nicely.” “I will?” Jamie gulped, his heart racing as he followed her gaze. “I will what?” “Well, you have to pay for my services. I do not offer such things for free.” She inched closer, cupping his chin with soft yet cold hands. Cold like soft winter snow he could sleep in. “I can pay. I make more than enough.” “Oh I’m sure you do, Mr. Six figures. But it is not money I seek from you.” Inching closer, she whispered, “I seek your release, then servitude. So, strip for me.” The demand was laughable. Ludicrous. Jamie tried to laugh but found his throat unwilling to listen. Instead, his hands reached for his belt, undoing it as if he were controlled by strings. No, no he knew he was moving his hands and knew if he wanted to he could stop them. But the mouse didn’t, as though compelled to follow. In no time at all he had cast aside his shirt, tie, pants, shoes, and underwear, leaving him naked in her tent with his cock erect. Cassandra patted his cockhead with her red nails, letting them scratch with curiosity as he writhed in place. “Not very big,” she whispered, “But you do not pitch often, do you?” “I…I do not…” Jamie said without thinking. “Are you a virgin there?” She asked. “No.” “No?” The snake looked surprised. “Who took it?” “A colleague. The son of the CEO. He let me fuck him. Then his wife. T-They wanted a twink to top them.” She frowned, cuddling up behind the mouse as though he was on the urge to cry. “How sad. You are not one to dominate, are you?” “No…no, ma’am…” Tears streamed from his cheeks. “I need to submit.” She released a breath, untensing herself as she smiled. “Good boy,” Cassandra whispered, cradling the mouse’s chin. “Will you grace me with your submission?” Jamie swallowed his fears and doubt but still found himself unable to do more than nod. She accepted it with grace, and revealed a strange device from the palm of her hand. “Your submission is a treasure but it alone has not earned you a collar. We will settle for this for now, as I do not need your cock present.” He studied the device. A chastity cage, but the head was flat. His heart fluttered while his cock stood erect. Cassandra chided him, “Ah, ah, ah. You must be soft. How else am I to put this on you?” “I-I’m sorry,” Jamie said, clamping his hands together, “I can’t get soft. It’s too much. Too fast. I want to but–” “Shh…” Cassandra whispered, silencing him with a finger, “Do not be ashamed, my pet. I have a way, but you must be brave for me. Can you be?” Jamie nodded, eyes widening as she slithered down to his cock. Her lips braced the shaft, followed by her forked tongue coiling it around. He bit his lips for fear of anyone outside hearing them, confused as to how her skill was supposed to make him soft. Then came a sting. It was instant at his base. A strange numbness filled his cock as it wilted. The mouse still felt its pleasure, if anything it grew more sensitive to the open air, but the erection vanished. “My venom is not lethal,” Cassandra hissed lovingly as she slipped the base ring through his cock and balls. “It is a potent aphrodisiac. There is a ‘flaw’ in that it makes my cock wielding partners inept during use, but I see this as a blessing. My preferred partners look better in chastity anyway.” What response Jamie had was drowned out as she sank the cage’s urethral tube down his shaft. Designed to line his cock up perfectly, the mouse quivered at the constant presence rubbing his inner walls. Every twitch of his crotch erupted in the sensation, yet he couldn’t help but force it. Like a scab to be picked or an absent hair to be pulled, it compelled him. “There,” she whispered, smiling as she kissed his cage. His legs nearly gave out, held only by last ditched strength and her hands gently grabbing him. Her saliva and his precum mixed into a strand that formed a bridge from her maw when she pulled back, becoming too thin to hold against gravity. “Isn’t that better?” Cassandra asked, softly patting his propped-up sack, “Being so confined? Don’t you feel so submissive? So right?” He nodded with a shudder, shy of begging for release without removing the cage. The snake woman rose above him, high enough that her head reached the roof of the tent. There he realized her crotch standing before him, with two pink nubs slowly growing into thick phalluses. “I think it is time you thank me properly for your new gift, don’t you?” Her question was not a question. In his heart of hearts, he felt her command and smiled, already tasting her cock as its scent lathered the roof of his mouth. Experience taught him to cradle the balls when appreciating someone’s rod. With no balls to cradle, Jamie instead gently pumped both shafts. Each tip earned his kiss, a careful and sensual press like one gave a lover. Her precum graced his lips, glistening before he licked the salty fluid away. With his nostril nestled between her cocks he started to lather. Worshiping her ribbed pinkish-red rod from base to tip, sometimes in one singular drag of his tongue. Her yellow eyes drew him whenever he looked up. She was pleased. So was he by her admission, taking the head into his maw and inching down without breaking the gaze. The other would not go unnoticed. He squeezed it while pumping, letting the wet fapping sound rise through the tent as he slurped its brother. Upon hitting the base he’d pull out and swap, coating his hands in his saliva. Her chest fluttered when he changed, pushing her big breasts far enough to break the line of sight. In those split seconds he thought about the people outside who could listen in, terrifying him to consider stopping. The fears were gone when her gaze returned. Her soft hiss was a hymn for his prayer. “You are a good cocksucker,” she said above a whisper. “I can see why so many coworkers took you under their desks. But you are missing something.” Without warning she forced his head down. Jamie sputtered, hands flat against her, patting for breath. She held him there, smiling softly until tears blurred his vision. “Yes, you need some makeup,” she cooed, pulling him off. “Something to ruin over your face. I think black would look perfect for you. Contrast the bright colors of your fur. I must ask, is it natural?” Cassandra pulled his hair up as he coughed and hacked, looking for his roots. “I see no sign of dye.” “I-It’s natural, ma’am.” He wiped his face, “I use conditioner, but no dying products.” “Oh, how fortunate. I know many pretty sissies who’d kill to have such lovely colors naturally. Of course this means we’ll need to contrast you. With blacks and deep purples, maybe dark-shaded pinks and skulls.” She laughed under her breath. Jamie nodded, eager to worship her as she went on about his impending gothification. He tried to worship both at once, disappointed to find his mouth too small. “Of course, you would need to leave your job.” She propped him up by her tail, coiling it around with such strength he hovered in the air. “But is that such a loss? They did not appreciate your true talents. And you’ve siphoned enough from them, have you not? What better way to use such funds is there than to embrace your new life at full throttle? To dive headfirst into your submission to me? Body and soul.” He nodded absently, raising his legs for the impending penetration she lined her cocks for. Jamie’s mouth hung open as his ass spread apart, confusing one of her cocks for both before the second brushed up between his legs. “What’s wrong, sissy?” Cassandra whispered, “Are none of the top businessmen big where it counts?” None. Even the stallions were on the small side. The mouse squeaked, forgetting or not caring who heard him sink into his mistress’s cock. Pressure squashed his prostate and for a moment Jamie swore he’d felt his cage spurt but nothing came. Her tail loosened, letting him take time to adjust to the girth. Her eyes stayed locked to his, pleased at his submission without blinking. “Will you give up everything to be with me?” “Yes…” “Your job? Your status? Your funds? Will you become my sycophant? My doll? My thrall?” The mouse nodded what felt like a thousand nods. “Yes, yes!” he cried out for everyone to hear. Murmurs echoed from beyond the tent but the damage had been done, cracking his shell to reveal the new birth of Jamie. “I’m yours, Mistress. Now and forever.” She bucked into him, lurching the rod in and out steadily. Jamie’s body rocked in pleasure, his gasp cut short as if she choked him. Every thrust squeaked with the saliva-drenched cock, every push made him moan for all to hear. “You will be my lure,” she hissed seductively, unfurling his ponytail, “I will mold you to worship on command and find fools in need of guidance. Your payment will be my pleasure, your desires my own. You may keep your name because I find it adorable. You–” Cass caught herself when Jamie’s thighs wrapped around her second cock. The friction from her thrusts forced him up and down both shafts, separated only by the feel of leg muscles versus his asshole. “Y-You cheeky bitch,” she grinned, thrusting harder until he’d started bouncing from impact. “You’ve made yourself worth more than you realize.” They twisted and curled to the floor, still rutting that Jamie swore he’d forgotten to breathe. She cried out and filled him, her outer cock spraying his stomach with thick ropes. Pulling away Cassandra looked pleased but Jamie had an urge he struggled to bring to light. “So close…” he muttered, pitifully rubbing his caged cock. “Just a little more.” “Oh, my dear thrall.” Cassandra arched him up by the chin, “My sweet, pitiful, thrall. Such pleasure is a gift to you, not a right. And while I am proud of your submission today, there is much to be done before you are ready to feel such a release again.” She snapped her fingers, “Up with you. We have much to do and little time. Least before the monitors come knocking. Sex before the orgy is a big no-no amongst the community.” Jamie followed, forgetting his clothes strewn about on the dirt floor. The last remnants of his old life he thought of, the first of many he’d subconsciously shred for his goddess’s pleasure. For his pleasure, mirrored off of her. *** Jamie tugged at the heart-shaped tag that hung from his thick black leather collar. A wolf across the bar noticed him underneath the shifting lights and death metal music, shifting his eyes back and forth to avoid staring too long. Black lipstick-stained lips curled up in a demure smile as he signaled the barkeep to send a drink the wolf’s way. Some honey for the pot. The buckles on his boots jostled with every step closer. The mouse’s tail swayed from side to side, actively raising his red buffalo-checked short skirt’s backside to reveal skull-laden black panties and the briefest hint of a fist-sized jeweled plug. His mistress wanted him stretched for both of her cocks, as well as any big boys. “First time?” Jamie asked, leaning his back against the bar so he could puff his chest out. The wolf nodded, his black headfur was messy and poorly dyed, unlike the mouse’s which now sported black highlights. “I figured. It’s ok to stare. I’m not a biter. I know someone who is, if you’re interested.” “A biter? Why would I be interested?” The mouse rested his palm over the wolf’s hand, “Because you seem lost, my friend. And she can show you direction. Read your fate.” The wolf scoffed, downing his drink. “Are you one of those girls who believes in astrology or something?” Jamie shook his head, “Nothing to do with the stars, cutie. But tell ya what. If you come with me, I might,” he leaned in closer to whisper, “Give your little buddy a good time in the bathroom stalls. What do ya say?” The wolf fluttered for a moment, staring into space as if to calculate the next step. Jamie laid his hands on the big wolf’s chest, eager to see that he wasn’t pushed away. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it,” he whispered, close enough to nibble at the wolf’s ear, “Or did you have worse things in mind when staring at me?” “I…I may have,” the wolf said, biting his lips as Jamie trailed manicured nails across his chest. “Oh? Do share,” Jamie reached between the wolf’s crotch, sampling the growing erection tight behind his jeans. “What would you do to an innocent girl like me?” “Why don’t I show you?” The wolf looped a finger through his collar, “I could take you back to my place.” “Tempting, tempting,” Jamie snickered softly, “But only after you see my friend. She’ll want to know I’m safe after all.” The wolf shrugged, letting Jamie lead him on through the night. Away from the dance floor and through the backstage, the mouse brought his would-be lover to the alleyway behind the bar. There they found the deep blue tent, hidden in the corner like shadows clinging to walls. Powerful yellow eyes hooked both upon their approach. “Welcome,” Cassandra said, tasting the air as her hiss rocked their bodies, “Are you interested in having your fortune told?” The wolf failed to speak, already entranced. Jamie grinned, happily undoing the wolf’s pants for his mistress. He would make a fine new thrall.