Prologue: An excerpt from The Case of the Red Corset, by Doctor Tobias Jefferson, July 1895

The door finally splintered under my repeated shoulder barges and I stumbled into the bedroom, brandishing my old service revolver. My eyes tried to adjust to the near darkness, the only light source being dawn’s faint glow coming through the open French windows. Fiennes came in after me, his keen eyes locating our target while I stood blinking.

‘There, Jefferson, do you see? Beside the bed!’

Quickly, I followed Fiennes’ pointing finger to the four poster bed on the far side of the room. The Lady Genevieve lay naked and pale on top of the covers. For a second, my heart thudded violently in my chest as I thought her to be dead, and then I saw her stir slightly. A soft moan, of what sounded like pleasure, escaped her lips.

‘Thank God, Fiennes, she still lives. I must tend to her,’ I lowered my revolver and moved forward.

‘No! Keep back, Jefferson,’ he braced his hand against my chest and bade me to keep still. Then I realised it was not the bed he pointed to, but a darkened corner of the room. ‘The devil still walks among us, I fear.’

At first I fancied I saw nothing amiss, and that the pressure of this strange case had cracked the senses of my dear friend. Then, amidst the dark recesses of the room’s corner, I swear I saw a wickedly lascivious smile, pearl white teeth, blood red lips and nothing more. I gasped and Fiennes merely nodded as she emerged. The hourglass outline of the most exquisitely beautiful woman came forward, the night slipping away from her like oil. She was utterly naked save for a red corset. And yet, despite the impossibly narrow waist, flared hips and vast bust, I somehow knew this corset was mere decoration, and that without it her shape would remain as stunning as before.

Were it not for my friend’s steely dedication to the execution of his duties I would have died that day. The infernal creature ensnared me with her rapturous beauty, and so I did not mark her passage across the room until Fiennes let out a battle cry and caught her unawares with a blow to the neck.

The two struggled then, the creature’s inhuman speed and strength matched by Fiennes’ skill at the Eastern martial arts. Several times I tried to fix a clear shot with my revolver, but I was thwarted by their ferocious wrestling. At last, Fiennes threw her clear past the French windows and onto the balcony. I took aim and fired; however, at that precise moment, the Lady Genevieve threw herself across the room with an anguished cry.

‘No, don’t hurt my mistress!’

The bullet shattered a window pane and nothing more. I grasped the flailing woman with one arm and aimed again. This time, Fiennes put out his hand and lowered my arm.

‘Your shot will have no effect against this type of devil, I fear, Jefferson.’

‘Are we to give up now, Fiennes? We have the beast at our mercy.’

‘Not at all, Jefferson. We must look to the very force of light itself to vanquish this evil,’ his arm swept outward to the horizon. The sun had begun to crest the land, and morning’s light pooled across the countryside like molten gold.

The monster cast a glance over her shoulder at the rising sun. Instead of making any attempt to flee, she began to incant quietly. The constant stream of words was inaudible from inside the room. Suddenly, she stopped. Again, that wickedly seductive smile played across her lips just before she burst into white smoke. The smoke quickly vanished and the corset fell to the stone flagging of the balcony. The sun had cleared the horizon now, lighting up the natural majesty of the countryside, once more free from the ravages of the demoness known as Mila.

Chapter One: Jordan

Jordan slammed the café door shut and locked it with such angry force the key almost snapped. This was the third time this week she had been asked to close up. It wasn’t even her responsibility, it was Vanessa’s. But Vanessa had been leaving early each day, and their boss had also been leaving around the same time. The young blonde waitress huffed off down the darkened city streets, annoyed that those two snuck off to fuck while she had to do all the work.

The thought of the gorgeous Vanessa entwined, hot and naked, with her well-chiselled boss sent a quiver of excitement through Jordan. No wonder he asked her to close up, it’s not as if anyone waited for her to come home. She sighed, wishing there was someone for her inside her apartment; wishing there was someone inside of her.

Jordan came to a stop, realising she had taken a wrong turn somewhere, the shady streets and black shop fronts unfamiliar to her this late in the evening. Anger flared up again, and at the same time her eyes were drawn to the brightest light in the street. It came from a clothes store which was still open. Jordon recognised the name, HP Teller — they sold decent clothes at low prices because it was last season’s fashion thrown out by the trendier shops. That’s what she needed, she realised, a whole new look. Jordan went in.

There was no one else there, apart from a bored looking brunette woman behind the counter. The tall sales assistant looked up from the paperback novel she was reading and gave a curt, professional smile. She watched Jordan over the oval rims of her designer glasses for a moment, and when she saw the blonde move off toward a rack of dresses, she went back to her book.

Jordan flicked idly through a rack in the corner of the shop, occasionally plucking out an item from the random assortment of summer dresses, party frocks, and blouses. None of it appealed; she didn’t have the busty figure these dresses needed to look good in, and the prices were still a little much for her. She was about to give up when she pulled out a corset from the rack.

‘Now this is cute!’ she declared happily. It was out of place amongst the dresses, but Jordan wasn’t thinking about that. For a moment she wasn’t thinking about much, as the store around her faded away and she drank in the corset’s beauty, how good it felt in her hands, the deep red silk of the panels sensuously smooth against the brush of her fingers, the exquisite black lace of the edges sending a rush of excitement through her body, the strong bones running through it promising to give her body a heart-stopping shape. She had to have it. ‘Let’s see how it looks.’ Jordan almost ran over to the changing rooms to try it on.

Inside the changing room, she pulled her loose pink t-shirt over her head, ruffling the short, spiky blonde hair. Jordan glanced wistfully at her semi-naked self in the mirror. It wasn’t that she was ugly, she knew, just so average in places: a cute face, but not stunning; no visible fat, but neither was she curvy, her breasts coming in at a meagre B-cup and her arse flat to look at; and all of this was delivered in a perfectly standard height of 5′ 5″. Well, with any luck, the corset would exaggerate her physique a little, she thought.

The last time she had tried on a corset it did nothing for her, so it was odd she should be so excited by this one. It seemed to whisper to her, promising to do wonderful things to her body. She picked it up and started to fasten the clips. Unlike the last corset, which had been a struggle even with the help of the sales assistant, the red corset flowed around her contours, almost escaping her hands and doing the work for her. When it was fitted and laced up, she stood up to admire herself in the full length wall mirror.

She was pleased with the result. It seemed custom made for her. The small corset hugged her outline, moulding itself to her contours, cinching in her waist slightly and leaving an enticing gap of an inch or two between the bottom of the corset and the hem of her blue jeans. ‘Not bad at all,’ she complimented herself as her eyes moved up. The top of the corset pushed her modest breasts upward, making them seem more impressive.

‘Plus it makes my boobs look…’ she paused in astonishment. As she watched, her breasts grew within the confines of the corset, the two mounds now pressing together as they swelled an entire cup size. If she hadn’t been so amazed, Jordan might have also noticed her honey blonde hair darken slightly. Instead, she was too busy watching her breasts grow, ‘…bigger!’

She reached out to clasp them, to confirm what her eyes were telling her. Their growth didn’t cease, the volume of flesh constantly expanding within her corset. The corset itself continued to keep the breasts securely held, stretching with them and holding them firm and upright. As her hands caressed and squeezed her D cups, she felt a tingling sensation spreading throughout her body. It flowed out to every nerve, lighting up the pleasure centres in her nipples, clitoris, and deep within her pussy.

‘Oh my God!’ she moaned as a wave of sexual bliss suddenly hit her. She screwed up her eyes as the sensations overtook her, failing to see her lips deepen from their natural colour to a rosy red, or even feel her light brown hair flow down her back. Her boobs had engulfed her hands entirely, and gone from small bumps to rivalling the size of her own head by the time the growth slowed.

Before Jordan could recover and properly marvel at her heaving chest, or question what was going on, the heat surged through her body again. This time the thrilling sensations spread from her buttocks. Her hands gave her bosom one last caress, making them jiggle spectacularly, before trailing sensuously down her sides. Jordan traced a new outline this time; no longer was she straight up and average. Her body had curves! The waist had become impossibly narrow, while the hips flared out as wide as her shoulders. In moments she had gained the sort of body that Dita von Teese and other straightlacers spent a lifetime honing.

It took longer for her to trace down her body, as slow inches were steadily being added to her to height. Finally, her hands reached her cheeks in time to feel them fill out. Unlike the magical corset, her jeans couldn’t cope with the pressures of her new body, and the tops of the perfectly round orbs slipped free. She kneaded the firm, pliable roundness of her behind, each squeeze sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her pussy. By now she was very wet and very horny. The sensations had reached melting point and her body began to tremble with delight. A visible darkness began to spread outward from her crotch across her jeans.

Jordan didn’t see this, nor did she see her hair fill out, the wavy chestnut brown locks reaching as far as her elbows. Her now-perfect, bee-stung lips pursed together as she mewled, ‘Mmm…feels…feels so…’ she breathed in expectantly, the mountainous cleavage thrusting upward as she arched her back and screamed out as the orgasm exploded, ‘Oh! So goooood!!!’

Outside the changing room, the sales assistant looked up quickly from her book at the sound of the ecstatic scream. For a fleeting few seconds she felt a curious thrill, and a quick tingle rippled through her body. It quickly dissipated as professional concern and hesitation warred within her, the need to do her job or leave well alone what may be an odd situation both seeking dominance.

Right now, Jordan didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. A second orgasm was already building within her, and this one was beginning to feel like the Big Bang of cumming. She now felt attuned to the changes in her body, and as the strands of hair blackened and lengthened to the small of her back, as her skin lightened and became blemish free, the fire in her loins grew even hotter. She came agonisingly closer to reaching the ultimate peak.

The dark spot at her crotch had turned her jeans black as far as the knees, causing the trouser leggings to fuse as it seeped downwards.

Jordan stroked her breast with her left hand and reached out with her right. She was close to cumming but it wasn’t happening! The white heat was becoming too much to bear. Desperately she reached for her crotch with her right hand. Instead of her jeans she found she wore a long black skirt, reaching from the base of her corset to the floor. She tugged at it furiously, trying to hitch it up so she could access her pussy and finger herself to orgasm.

In the end, she didn’t need to as her entire being suddenly exploded. Orgasm after orgasm rippled through her with such mounting force she began to feel disembodied. Blinding white light gathered around the edges of her vision. The last, big one came: she breathed in suddenly and sharply, screwing up her eyes as an ecstatic scream escaped her lips, every nerve buzzing with a million volts of sexual bliss and the blinding white light consumed her.

Jordan never enjoyed the slow, gradual come down as the fire reduced to a warming glow. With her mind battered senseless by impossible pleasure, she could put up no mental resistance when Mila possessed her body. The demoness escaped the corset she had cursed that night she battled Fiennes, and entered Jordan’s altered being. Mila grinned at her success, revealing her newly formed fangs framed by her blood red, pillowy lips. Matching red eyes, the pupils shaped like the eyes of a hungry tigress, marvelled at her stolen shape. It was almost perfect, but not quite.

Mila focussed the last of her dark energies and a final shudder rippled down her body from head to toe. As it travelled, the changes to her new body were completed. The chestnut brown hair became supernaturally black, seeming to absorb the light around it as the ends grew out to the top of Mila’s well-rounded buttocks. Skin became as smooth and pale as marble. Breasts juddered as they filled out a few more inches, somehow defying gravity to remain firm and upright even as they dwarfed her head. The waist lost another inch and the hips gained it. The shudder carried on down her legs, lengthening them so she now stood a foot taller than before Jordan put on the corset, and completing the transformation of her jeans into a luxurious, long black skirt.

There was a knock on the changing room door. ‘Is everything alright in there, miss?’ the sales assistant asked, concern audible in her voice.

Mila tore her hands and eyes away from her luscious new body as The Hunger made itself known in the depths of her cunt. ‘Come in,’ she commanded, her voice as rich and husky as honeycombs.

The sales assistant opened the door tentatively. She had heard stories from other colleagues about the things weird customers got up to in changing rooms, and she half-expected something disturbing on the other side. She stopped in the threshold with a quick gasp. The young, slim blonde wasn’t there; instead, she came face-to-boob with Mila. The assistant looked up at the taller woman and immediately felt weak at the knees. A surge of desire electrified her pussy as she took in the physical presence of the living goddess. Every aspect of Mila’s body was forged for wanton sex and lust.

Mila smiled, pleased that she could still steal the hearts of mortal beings so easily. She had been trapped for a long time in the corset and she had questions, as well as other needs. Mila reached out a slender arm and cupped the assistant’s chin with her fingers. Long, red fingernails caressed the assistant as Mila drew her in closer. With her other hand, Mila plucked at the name badge on the brunette’s chest: it read ‘Antonia’.

On a subconscious level, Antonia wanted to run away and never look back. All of this was impossible for her. Yet, as her face drew nearer to the porcelain-skinned, heart-wrenching beauty of Mila’s, and two magnificent breasts pressed against her, Antonia’s resistance became compliance. Their lips connected. Mila savoured the victory, as easy as it was, and played with Antonia, gently sucking and nibbling her lips. Then, Mila’s tongue plunged in, invading Antonia’s mouth and claiming the sales assistant obedience forever as the exciting sensations overcame the girl.

Something felt odd for Antonia, in a pleasing but different way. Mila had begun to gently suck on Antonia’s tongue. Antonia felt a sense of lightness, of troubles and worries draining away, but also more than that. A last attempt at struggling to break free bubbled up from Antonia’s core as she realised the demon was draining her knowledge.

Mila’s fingernails sliced through Antonia’s work shirt and bra, revealing her pert breasts. Mila set to work caressing and pinching Antonia’s nipples. The girl melted away again as the pleasure took over and she let the last of her hard-earned intelligence be siphoned off, leaving her content and empty-headed forever.

The she-demon eased off Antonia and let the girl’s knowledge assimilate with her own. The gap of over a hundred years filled in. Mila was delighted with the course of history. ‘You used to hunt my kind,’ Mila smiled wickedly at the girl, ‘and now you practically worship us, with your fiction and films. I think I’m going to like this century.’

‘Are you, like, going to suck my blood?’ Antonia asked.

‘Don’t let the fangs fool you, my dear. If I suck you dry, it will be in an entirely different way. Now hush, my little…’ Mila searched her conquered knowledge for the right word, ‘… bimbo. Hmm, no, you’re not quite the bimbo yet.’

Mila bit down into Antonia’s breast with her fangs. The sales assistant gasped as pleasure, not pain, coursed through her veins. Changes were carried along with it. Like Jordan before her, Antonia transformed: her breasts inflated, imperfections vanished, brown hair turned blonde and broke free of the scrunchie to fall down her back, legs lengthened and lips puffed out. When it stopped, the petite sales assistant had become a blonde goddess, built for sex.

Antonia stretched languidly, her large breasts falling free of the torn shirt. She smiled as she shrugged out of her clothes. Catching sight of the name badge pinned to her top, she giggled, ‘Like, I think I’ll call myself Toni.’

Mila held her finger to the blonde’s puffy pink lips to silence her. ‘You have far more important uses for that pretty mouth.’ Mila unfastened her skirt with a deft flick of her wrist, letting it pool to the floor around her ankles, and guided the enthralled bimbo to her naked snatch.

The demoness moaned whorishly as the inexperienced but enthusiastic bimbo plied her tongue over her mistresses’ clit, releasing Mila’s century-long pent up frustration and swiftly sending her to orgasm. When the pleasure had subsided, Mila pulled Toni to her feet and traced her blood-red fingernails down her body. Toni gasped as a long fingernail grazed against her clit. ‘Not bad, my sweet little bimbo. Now let me show you how it’s really done.’

A little while later, Mila stepped out into the night in Jordan’s stolen body, lusting for revenge on those who had caused her to sleep for a century. The next morning, the manager of JP Teller arrived early and found a store that hadn’t been locked up the previous night, with a blonde beauty gently masturbating in a changing room. For a second, he thought about calling the police. That thought disappeared when the hot harlot spread her legs and said with a smile, ‘I know how it’s really done. Would you like me to show you?’

Chapter Two: Mila

Mila stood at the steps of the Central Library. Looking at the unchanged edifice of the grand library, with the same fluted columns and silent lion statues lying to either side of the doors, she felt a brief pang of nostalgia for her era. Then it passed and a sly smile sashayed across her lips as she saw one of the many reasons for preferring this time. The iron-bound oak doors creaked open as a female librarian stepped out. Her white blouse and dark skirt were considered formal work wear for the early 21st century, but Mila was used to a century where dresses covered neck to ankle, so the bare forearms and calves sent a shiver of anticipation through her.