Gagged

Sister Mary had always been told she was too curious for her own good.

The stone corridors beneath the Chapel of Eternal Grace were forbidden to all but the senior sisters—those sworn to guard the demonic artefacts sealed away in the catacombs. Mary had begged Mother Superior to let her join their ranks, pleading with those wide cornflower eyes that had charmed half the parish back home. But she'd been dismissed with a wave and a furrowed brow. Too young. Too innocent. Too soft.

We'll see about that, Mary thought, her bare feet padding silently across the cold flagstones as she descended deeper into the earth. Her plain white habit rustled against her slim frame—the frame that had never filled out the way other girls' had. At twenty-two, she remained flat as a board, all sharp angles and prominent collarbones, her body seemingly frozen in an adolescent refusal to bloom. She'd prayed for curves once, in the privacy of her cell, before remembering that vanity was a sin.

The air grew thick as she ventured deeper. The torches on the walls flickered with an unnatural greenish tint, and Mary felt a heaviness settle in her chest—like something was watching.

She found the first vault around midnight.

The display cases lined the walls of a circular chamber, each one protected by glowing wards that hummed with ancient power. Inside lay the relics: a chalice that seemed to breathe, a mirror that showed nothing but darkness, a pair of handcuffs that rattled on their own. Mary moved past them all, drawn by some instinct she couldn't name—

And then she saw it.

A ball gag. Pink. Obscenely, vulgarly pink, with a leather strap and a silicone ball that gleamed under the torchlight like wet candy. It sat on a velvet cushion inside a lead-lined case, the ward around it flickering with an irregular pulse—weaker than the others.

Mary's breath caught. She'd never seen anything so... so...

Wrong, she told herself. This is wrong. I should leave.

But her feet wouldn't move. Her hands reached out of their own accord, drawn to the case like iron to a magnet. The glass felt ice-cold under her fingertips. The ward sparked once, twice—then died, as if surrendering.

"Strange," Mary whispered. "That shouldn't happen..."

The case opened with a soft click.

The gag moved.

Mary stumbled backward with a yelp as the pink sphere launched itself from its prison, trailing its leather straps like tentacles. It flew straight at her face—she threw up her hands to block it—but it was too fast. The silicone ball jammed between her lips, spreading her jaw wide, and the straps whipped around her head with supernatural speed, buckling themselves tight at the nape of her neck.

"Mmmmph—!"

Mary's hands flew to her mouth, clawing at the leather, but it wouldn't budge. The strap had fused seamlessly, as if it had always been part of her. She tried to scream, but the ball filled her mouth so completely that only a muffled whimper escaped.

Then the warmth started.

It began as a tingle on her tongue—almost pleasant, like sipping warm honey. Mary's eyes went wide as the sensation spread, flowing down her throat and into her chest. Her skin flushed. Her nipples hardened against the rough fabric of her habit.

No—no, this is—they said the artefacts were dangerous—I need to—

The heat intensified, pooling in her belly, and Mary felt something shift inside her. Something dark. Something hungry.

Mmmmmh...

The moan escaped before she could stop it—a sound she'd never made before, low and throaty and utterly obscene. Mary's hands dropped from the gag to press against her stomach, but the heat was already spreading lower, coiling between her thighs with an insistence that made her knees buckle.

She fell to the stone floor, her habit riding up around her thighs as she landed hard on her hands and knees. Her body was shaking now—no, not shaking, vibrating, every nerve ending firing at once. The gag pulsed in her mouth, and Mary realized with horror that she could feel a heartbeat inside the silicone—her heartbeat, or something else's, she couldn't tell anymore.

Please—someone help—I can't—the pleasure—

Another pulse, and Mary's back arched as an orgasm crashed through her without warning. She'd never—she'd never—her body convulsed on the cold stone, her hips bucking against nothing, her untouched sex clenching and spasming as the corruption flooded through her veins.

Stop—please—it's too much—

But the gag wasn't finished.

The heat surged again, and Mary felt her chest begin to ache. She looked down through tear-blurred eyes and watched in horrified fascination as the flat plane of her bosom began to swell. Slowly at first, then faster—her habit growing tight, straining at the buttons as breasts that had never existed pushed outward with impossible speed.

Mmmmph! Mmmm-mmmm—!

The buttons popped one by one, pinging off the stone walls, as Mary's new tits spilled free—round and full and perfectly shaped, far larger than nature ever would have granted her. They were heavy, achingly sensitive, and the cool dungeon air on her exposed nipples sent another unwanted orgasm tearing through her.

Sister Mary, a voice whispered in her mind. It wasn't her own. Sister Mary... such a pretty name. But it doesn't suit you anymore, does it?

Who—what are you—let me go—

I'm you now, the voice purred. Or rather... you're going to be me. Such a good little vessel. So empty. So ready to be filled.

Mary tried to crawl toward the door, but her limbs wouldn't cooperate. Her body moved like a puppet with tangled strings, jerking and twitching as the corruption rewired her from the inside out. She managed to drag herself a few feet before another wave of pleasure slammed into her—harder this time, crueler, and she felt something vital drain away as her hips bucked through it.

Her innocence. The gag was drinking it.

No—please—I don't want to—

Liar, the voice giggled. Your cunt says otherwise. So wet. So hungry. You've wanted this your whole life—you just didn't know what to call it.

Mary sobbed around the gag, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks as her body betrayed her again and again. She could feel herself changing—not just her body, but her mind, her memories, her soul. Scenes flashed behind her eyes: the girls she'd secretly watched in the convent baths, the priest's sermons about temptation that had made her squeeze her thighs together, the shameful heat she'd felt whenever Mother Superior had bent her over her desk for punishment—

Yes, the voice crooned. All those pretty little sins. Let me have them. Let me make them useful.

Another orgasm. Another piece of Mary crumbled away.

She lost track of time after that. The orgasms blurred together into one endless, agonizing wave—each one draining more of her resistance, more of her self. She felt her memories slipping away like sand through her fingers: her mother's face, her childhood home, her reasons for joining the convent. All of it replaced by a growing, throbbing need.

By the third hour, Mary had stopped trying to crawl.

By the fourth, she'd stopped trying to remember who she was.

By the fifth, she'd started to like it.

Mmmmh... mmmm...

The moans that escaped around the gag were different now—deeper, wanton, eager. Mary's body moved with purpose, grinding against the stone floor, her new breasts swaying beneath her as she arched her back and spread her thighs. Her habit was ruined, torn and stained, bunched around her waist as she presented herself to an empty room.

More, she thought, and the word didn't scare her anymore. I need more.

Good girl, the voice purred. You're almost ready.

Mary felt a final surge of heat—different from the others, sharper and more focused—and watched as her skin began to change. The pale, freckled flesh darkened to a deep, golden tan, smooth and flawless. Her nails lengthened into perfect, manicured points. Her hair, mousy brown and chopped short in the convent style, began to grow—spilling down her back in waves of platinum blonde so light it was almost white.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

The gag's heartbeat faded. The straps loosened.

Mary reached up with trembling hands and pulled the silicone ball from her mouth. It came free with a wet pop, trailing a string of saliva. She turned it over in her hands, examining it in the torchlight—

And smiled.

It wasn't Sister Mary's smile.

"Fuck," she said, and the voice that came out was rich and melodic and wicked. "That was intense."

She rose to her feet in one fluid motion, her new body moving with a grace Mary had never possessed. The shredded habit fell away entirely, leaving her naked in the flickering light—and she admired herself, running her hands over her massive breasts, her narrow waist, the curve of her hips.

"Not bad," she murmured, tweaking a nipple and watching it harden. "Not bad at all."

But something was missing.

She looked around the chamber, her eyes landing on one of the other display cases. The wards had died when the gag had claimed her, and now all the artefacts sat unprotected. She moved toward them, her hips swaying with every step, and selected her prizes: a black latex bodysuit that slithered onto her skin like a second flesh, moulding itself to every curve; thigh-high boots with heels so high they should have been impossible to walk in; and a collar—black leather with a single pink stone at the throat—that clasped itself around her neck with a satisfying click.

The gag went into her palm. It had changed now, the pink deeper, more vibrant, pulsing with stored energy.

"Six hours," she said, glancing at the torches. "They'll send someone soon."

She positioned herself in the centre of the chamber, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor with the gag cradled in her lap, and waited.

---

Sister Catherine found her at dawn.

Catherine was older than Mary—thirty-five, with a kind face and a motherly figure hidden beneath her plain habit. She'd been worried when Mary hadn't appeared for morning prayers, had searched the cells and the chapel before remembering the forbidden stairs.

"Sister Mary?" Her voice echoed off the stone walls. "Mary, are you down here? You know this area is off-limits—"

She rounded the corner and froze.

The woman sitting in the centre of the chamber was not Mary. She couldn't be. She was tall and curvy and blonde, dressed in a black latex bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination, her massive breasts straining against the shiny material, her long legs crossed beneath her in a pose that was somehow both casual and obscene.

But those eyes—

"Mary?" Catherine whispered.

The woman smiled. "Not anymore."

She rose in one fluid motion and was on Catherine before the older nun could react—moving faster than any human should move, slamming her against the wall and pinning her there with a strength that seemed impossible.

"Mary, please—" Catherine struggled, but the latex-clad woman held her effortlessly. "What's happened to you? What have you done?"

"Nothing I didn't want." The woman leaned close, her lips brushing Catherine's ear. "That's the secret, Cathy. I wanted this. Every dark little thought I ever had—that's all I am now. And it feels incredible."

"The artefacts—" Catherine's eyes darted to the empty cases. "Oh, Mother of God—"

"God's not here anymore." The woman produced the pink gag from somewhere, holding it up so Catherine could see it. "But I am. And I'm going to need your help, Cathy. We're going to have so much fun together."

"No—please—"

But the gag was already moving, jamming itself between Catherine's lips, sealing tight before she could scream. The older nun's eyes went wide with terror—

And then with something else.

"Mmmmmh..." Catherine's body arched as the first wave of corruption hit her, her plain habit stretching as her chest began to swell. The Mistress of the Gag stepped back to watch, one hand sliding between her own thighs as she enjoyed the show.

"That's it," she purred, circling the trembling nun. "Let it happen. Let it in. You've spent your whole life repressing every naughty thought, every wicked desire. All that delicious guilt... I can taste it from here."

Catherine's hands flew to the gag, but her fingers only brushed against it before another orgasm crashed through her, driving her to her knees. Her habit split down the middle as her new body grew—curves appearing in places that had been flat for decades, her grey-streaked hair darkening to a rich brown, her wrinkles smoothing into flawless, youthful skin.

"Such a pretty whore you'll make," the Mistress continued, pleasuring herself openly as she watched. "I can see it in you—the anger, the resentment. All those years taking care of everyone else when what you really wanted was to be taken care of. To be fucked and used and worshipped. Isn't that right, Cathy?"

Tears streamed down Catherine's changing face—but her hips were bucking now, grinding against nothing, her body betraying her just as Mary's had.

"By the time that gag comes out," the Mistress said, moving closer to stroke the other woman's hair, "you won't remember being Catherine at all. You'll just be mine. My first convert. My precious little slut."

She leaned down and licked a tear from Catherine's cheek.

"And together, we're going to make everyone in this monastery just like us."

The gag pulsed. Catherine's eyes rolled back. And in the depths of the catacombs, beneath the holy ground where nuns had prayed for centuries, a new kind of sisterhood was born.

---

By nightfall, the Chapel of Eternal Grace had fallen silent.

The Mistress walked the corridors with Catherine at her heel—both of them dressed in matching latex, the new convert's massive breasts swaying with every step. In her hand, the Mistress held the gag, which had grown somehow larger after feeding on Catherine's innocence. It pulsed with a deep pink glow, hungry for more.

"How many left?" the Mistress asked.

"Forty-three, my lady." Catherine's voice had changed too—become higher, breathier, dumber. She giggled. "Forty-three innocent little lambs, waiting to be corrupted."

The Mistress smiled.

"Then let's not keep them waiting."

She pressed the gag to her lips, kissing it gently, and felt it pulse against her mouth—eager, alive, and absolutely, deliciously evil.

Sister Mary was gone. And she was never coming back.