Goldenrod Prequel

I'm writing this for the sake of the Order, so that should a threat like the one depicted emerge again, we may have some means of recognizing and defeating it. This account is factual to the extent possible, with sensitive information changed or omitted insofar as doing so would not alter the overall meaning. I appear as a character below, so further data about the setting or background may be obtained with appropriate permissions from my personal file, as necessary.

Margaret moved from the coast to attend university, and we became roommates by chance. Only I had a car, a beat-up hatchback, and it was after we'd been out shopping that Russell caught his first glimpse of her. We pulled into the drive and she emerged from the passenger side in black knee-high boots and tight black jeans, with a black cotton jacket zipped up to almost completely conceal a form-fitting white t-shirt. Her dark hair was thick and curly, falling past her shoulders. I could certainly understand his attraction, which was instantaneous. It was also clear why he showed no interest in me, as I was shorter, wore thick glasses and had bangs in my stringy brown hair, which otherwise fell straight down my back. She strode beside him inspecting the awe-struck teenager as if he were some colorful variety of insect, while I bundled the groceries to my chest and kicked the door closed on my side.

"I'm Russ," he stammered helplessly. "Do I know you?" She chuckled at his impertinence, and raised an eyebrow as she mentally undressed him.

"No, I'd remember meeting you, Russ. I'm Margaret. That's my roommate over there, Samantha." I raised my head in acknowledgement as I tried to unlock the entrance to our building with my arms full of plastic bags. "Do you want to ask if we go to your college? Maybe you've seen us around campus," she said. I couldn't stand watching her toy with him, so I happily went inside.

"Do you?"

"Do me?"

"I mean, do you go to my college?" She grinned wide at him like a snake about to bite.

"Yeah," she said, peering through him. She liked his boyish good looks and wild, mid-length hair. Her stare fell again upon the t-shirt and jeans he wore. "Maybe we'll bump into each other again," she said, but he didn't hear her.

When she entered the kitchen I had put all the food away.

"That wasn't nice," I said.

"What? He's cute."

"You shouldn't lead him on." She took a deep breath as she removed her jacket and stretched her arms.

"Oh, he has potential."

"Would Tammy think so?" She leveled cool eyes at me when I mentioned her girlfriend.

"Samantha, I don't read your special books, and I trust you know when to respect my boundaries, as well." I bowed my head momentarily in apology, and she relaxed again. "I'm going to shower," she purred, and effortlessly took the stairs two at a time to the second floor.

"Make it a cold one," I muttered. As I turned past the window above the sink I saw Russ on the sidewalk, trying to stand as if he weren't loitering.

The next time they met, Margaret had removed her jacket and traded her white tee for a black one, but his clothes hadn't changed. She was bagging the last leaves from the lawn, and was aglow from her labors. He again resembled an ornament that had fallen off her and lacked any purpose until replaced.

"Oh, hey, Margaret. Hey."

"Hey," she replied, skillfully restraining a laugh.

"Doing some yard work, huh?" She nodded, and waved away some wasps.

"Just wrapping up."

"Cool. I was thinking, there's this band playing downtown tonight, and they're not very good, but..."

"Russ, listen," she said, holding up a hand to silence him. "You're nice, but ask somebody else to see this show with you. I don't go to clubs anymore."

"Oh, well, we don't have to see them. If you want to stay in and catch a movie..." The laugh at last escaped her.

"I'm a lesbian. You do know what that is?"

"Yeah, I've heard that one before."

"I'm flattered by the offer."

"Well, so what?"

"Sorry?"

"I know lots of people who are bi, it doesn't mean anything. We can still hook up." She crossed her arms.

"What if I said I don't want to?"

"Why not?"

"I told you."

"Yeah, and I said it doesn't matter."

"Really? If you were getting hit on by a guy, you'd be okay with it?"

"What? No," he laughed, "it's different with chicks. Society's more accepting of what girls do."

"Is it?" she asked icily.

"Yeah, I have manly pride to worry about. I have to consider how I'm seen."

"I guess women never have to fret about that." He shrugged. She effected a wry smile. "Okay," she said, brushing her hands clean on her hips. "We can kick back, and enjoy some videos tonight."

"Alright."

"Come by around eight."

"Will do," he said, departing with a wink.

"Yes," she said, "that's right."

A freak cold front kept people off the moonlit streets. In the apartment, white curtains spilled their eerie glow into empty corridors, which were silent until his knocking. When Margaret didn't answer the door, he tried the knob.

"Hello?" he asked, craning his head in. He walked into the kitchen, and shut the door behind him, shaking off the freezing air. "Margaret?"

"Here," she whispered. He saw her at the hallway portal, and she held out her hand to him. Bewitched, he took it and followed her into the dark. She looked at him twice as they moved quietly down the corridor. When they'd entered my soundproof study, she turned to face him.

Suddenly overcome by youthful enthusiasm, he tore off his coat and began grabbing at her. She endured his efforts with humor, but didn't reciprocate. He kissed her mouth, pulled her solid form to him by her waist, and rubbed his groin up at hers. Subtly, she started assisting his groping hands by putting her own atop them, and manipulating his fondling to make it more acceptable to her. When his fingers cupped her breast, she molded and slowed their squeezing. As he kneaded her ass, she reinforced his grip to make it ache pleasingly. The hold on her cheeks that he took to gently chew her lips, she transferred to her neck and tightened to a strangle. Her continual cooperation thwarted his efforts to conquer her until he realized she was merely using him to play with herself. Eventually he broke away in disgust.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What's the matter? I thought you wanted me."

"This isn't right."

"I'm letting you put your hands all over me. Doesn't it turn you on? Maybe you're a sissy. Is that the problem?"

"No."

"No? You don't please me. I won't oblige you. All that leaves is testing your claim that no man can have you."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I'm being dirty," she said, and took a deep breath. "Do you like it?" She then recited a spell stolen from one of our texts, which I have replaced with the following inert verse. "The fertilizing lightning fell from heaven, and animated the clay, which then crawled. Coming home, the beasts forsake legs, and only climb the tree by coiling around."

At once she groaned and a bulge swelled in the crotch of her dark jeans. Her mouth dropped open, and her head rolled languidly atop her neck in a reverie of pleasure. Beneath her glazed eyes, the growth insistently rose by inches, making her hips buck and audibly straining the fabric that contained it until the button popped off her pants. Russ shirked as it barely missed his head, but he was immobilized by the sight of the proud stalk blossoming from Margaret's loudly unzipping fly. Its length slowly fell until horizontal, as if to point at him accusingly. She gasped. From seemingly nowhere, she had conjured a realistic rubber penis to her pubis. "Come to me," she growled.

"No way!" he yelled, and scrambled into a run from her. She patiently trailed him.

"Look at me, Russ. I want to show you something."

"I've seen it." He was trapped at a locked door. She slowed to a halt five feet from him.

"Watch, now." Resting her palms flat on her sides, she transferred her weight to one leg, and then gradually to the other, again and again, until her shoulders tilted in opposite time with her hips, and her breasts rocked to the left and right before him in slow motion. He tried to speak, but couldn't. "You'll let me have it, won't you?" she asked breathlessly. "You'll let me slip my dick inside."

"No."

"Succumb to me." Her hands slid to the shaft's base so that her thumb tips touched beneath her navel. She gave her hips a quick, forward jerk followed by two more, sending the dick bobbing, and he was mesmerized. A smirk crept onto her face at how easily she'd caught him, and she seized the cock to wave it rapidly, shattering his fascination. Realizing he was lost, he slumped. As her lusty gaze bore down on him he grew heavier, and dropped to his knees at her feet in agony. Victorious, she regained her composure with a sigh.

"When you're one of two lovers, both of whom have dicks, Russ, you seem to fold rather quickly," she mused, "provided the other has wiles as compelling as mine. Would all men be as compliant in your situation, I wonder?" She put her hands on her hips, and balanced a booted heel on his thigh. "How about I give you a taste of the limitless energy women need to do all your cooking and cleaning, big boy?"

Twenty minutes later, she was clutching his hips through black driving gloves, and with her attention far in the distance and her torso flawlessly erect, she mechanically sent pounds from her pelvis into his naked, bent-over form. The shiny leather cylinders sheathing her calves were generously spaced, allowing the lambda of her thighs and buttocks to rocket at his disintegrating ass repeatedly and with perfect regularity. Bang bang bang it came, totally destroying all traces of his resistance to her, and his only thought during the barrage was admiration of her physical ability and stamina. She continued the assault with brutal efficiency, and not a twinge of pity. At nine o'clock, a bell rang and the strap-on fucking concluded.

"Right on time," she said, glancing at a wall clock. Holding his butt still, she stepped back and out of him, removed her hands, and walked briskly but casually to the door. He continued to lean on the ottoman as he had while she was taking him.

When she returned it was with a spectacled girl who had a blond ponytail, and was dressed in bell bottomed slacks, an orange leather coat, and a thick, wool turtleneck sweater.

"Russ, this is my girlfriend, Tammy. Don't get up. Wait, I told you I'm gay, didn't I? I think I did."

"Hi, Russ," the young woman said, and began disrobing.

"Tammy likes it rough and in the ass. You're going to give it to her. It's a little token of my gratitude for your endurance. That's sweet of me, don't you agree?"

"Yes," he whispered. The new addition had stripped to a full-body, black latex cat suit, and had removed her glasses and hair tie.

"Here?" she asked Margaret. The brunette nodded, and Tammy bent over the antique couch. With a contortionist's dexterity she reached between her legs to her lower back and pulled a hidden zipper open to her crotch, fully exposing her anus to Russ. Then she turned a pout at him. "Penetrate me."

"She'd better scream," Margaret said. The boy summoned what little strength he had left and staggered over to Tammy's rear. An erection came quickly to him, and he slid painfully into her dry cavity. She snorted.

"He's not very big." Russ pumped her listlessly. In only a moment, Margaret's dick was ravaging his asshole, and her chiseled, cotton-covered abdomen and hard, denim-bound legs were pressing on him.

"No," he moaned, still confusedly trying to fuck Tammy.

"Don't tell me you didn't see this coming," the woman in black scoffed, and demonstrated her mastery of the two bodies with a series of powerful thrusts. The blond exploded in delighted laughter. "Welcome to our club."

"Yes, welcome," the girl echoed, and Russ ejaculated inside her.

I arrived on the scene early next morning to find a moving truck departing. Margaret was loading dry cleaning into the back of Tammy's car, which was filled with small boxes.

"Where have you been, at some séance?"

"It was an all-night study session."

"Oh, I've had one of my own."

"What's going on?"

"I'm moving out," Margaret said. "Sorry. I guess you'll have to scratch to find my half of the rent this month."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"I'm joining Tammy's sorority. I'll be living in their house, now."

"That's mine," I said, noticing an old book through the window of the car. Margaret reached in and extracted it.

"It's nothing special," she said, examining the volume. "You can keep it." She dropped the tome on the grass. "All the really juicy stuff has been moved out already."

"You're stealing from me? My books?"

"You don't know what to do with them." She drew close to me. "This thing is real, Samantha. It's power. I've used it."

"What have you been doing?"

"While you're locked in your room at night learning how to finger yourself, I've been figuring things out. I've subjugated two people."

"Who?"

"What does it matter? The first of many. Join our group. Help me spread this knowledge to women who can profit from it. Stop hoarding it with those biddies." I laughed in her face.

"Start some dyke army to enslave the men? As ridiculous as it sounds, that's been tried before. It didn't end well."

"No, you don't see. We'll forge a new sexuality, the irresistibility of the feminine combined with the aggressiveness of the male, something greater than both." Tammy honked the horn angrily.

"You have no idea what you're doing. You'll fail." She smiled at me.

"It's begun," she said, and got in the car. "Someday, you'll wish you'd followed me."

They drove away.

My misplaced trust caused one of the greatest security breaches we've ever suffered. It has been my mission to put right what happened, but evidence of the spread of Margaret's characteristic practices has grown wildly in recent years, and our archives overflow with reports concerning her notorious sorority. I continue to struggle nevertheless to recover our pilfered materials, and teach healthy, harmonious doctrines wherever they're received. I maintain also that in the right circumstances even a manifestation of the Goddess is possible, and such an occurrence would vindicate those who believe that whatever Margaret's wishes, her actions are merely part of a larger design of providence, and thus, in some way, for the best.