Chapter 2 - A Reigning Empress

               Yukari Takeba. 
 
               Student of Gekkoukan High. Member of SEES. Hobbyist archer. Loyal friend.
 
               Mitsuru could still conjure this image of Yukari in her mind’s eye - but was grimly faced with the reality that this conception of her was gone. Yukari was gone. What was left of her was… 
 
               “Ohoho - that one tasted better than the last.” 
 
               A monster nearly beyond Mitsuru’s comprehension. In her vast experience, Shadows were creatures wrought from one’s worst nightmares. The smaller varieties, however petty, were nearly formless abominations consumed with the simple drive to cause human harm. They didn’t need to feed; not on flesh and not on the suffering they caused in the moment - but by the collective unconscious; a wellspring flowing infinitely in their favor. Some were stronger. Some were smarter. But none were as cruel as the one Mitsuru now beheld.
 
               Before her was a corpulent beast; its blackened body covered in regal garb. A scepter sat in one hand, and the other held a baseball cap; stolen from its owner… That now shared the fate of SEES’ field leader - sinking into the ponderous stomach of the Shadow. Mitsuru’s stomach had lurched when she saw the Shadow’s jaw unhinge to devour her defeated friends - the heiress couldn’t help but retch in guttural revulsion; which only prompted the Shadow restraining her to grasp her tighter; prompting her silence. 
 
               What made the image even more terrifying was that she had to stare at Yukari’s face as she went about her horrible task. Although it had become bloated, although an unnatural light shone within her eyes, and although her words would never spill from the girl’s lips… It remained Yukari’s. To see her friend’s visage being worn as a mask disgusted her on levels even her comprehensive vocabulary failed to express. 
 
               To have beheld Yukari being… Overwritten by this abomination was paralyzing - restraining her infinitely more effectively than the physical grasp of the Emperor presently securing her. To have seen her enthralled and changed… Mitsuru had maintained an ounce of hope that some remnant of humanity may have remained in Yukari, but with each passing moment, her form demonstrated another feat impossible for the human form. 
 
               
 
It began with how she’d consumed her friends - like a serpent, making deep and guttural noises as she swallowed their forms whole; the vivacious human flesh of Yukari’s face distorted to accommodate the mass of her meal, and following their consumption, how her already-bulging stomach contained their mass. It engorged like a fleshy balloon - it stretched, bulbous and evenly rounding out.
 
The Empress that had once been Yukari fanned herself with one hand - from beyond her hairline, a bead of sludge rolled down her forehead; now seeming to drip from her pores in lieu of sweat. “And how… Filling. My my, for how feeble they were, they feel so…” Her hand lowered, coming to rest on her stomach. At first; the firm surface of her distended belly resisted her touch - but with a gentle push, and a wet schlop, Mitsuru can see her hand dimple inward. 
 
As always - her shifting form was a sight to behold in horror. Her stomach didn’t seem to get any smaller - but the very texture seemed to warm. Losing its firmness as its contents seemed to provide it less structure - though Mitsuru wished to deny it, she could tell that it was digesting the Empress’ meal. 
 
The Empress’ eyes flashed brightly - a wisps of shadow beginning to cascade from her body. She drops her scepter - clattering upon the floor at her feet. Her now-free hand reaches upward to grasp at her breast; dimpling in against the essence covering - or more likely composing - it. A harsh bellow resounds from her gullet; heralding heavy quakes spreading across her form. The soft flesh her fingers come to squeeze seems to grow more pronounced - the blue color of her ‘dress’ swelling up to eclipse her fingers.
 
“Oooooooh, yes…” she hisses - her luminescent eyes rolling upward; her lips pursing as she continues to coo. Mitsuru didn’t know whether to interpret the vibrant shade of red that now seemed to coat the Empress’ plumper lips as yet another perversion to her form - or a side-effect of her gristly meal. “Their power is delicious. Perhaps I should drain them slowly, but...” A wet, meaty crack resounds from the Empress’s body, forcing her to double over. “I simply can’t help myself…~”
 
Her broad, chunky legs spread a little on the floor as she adjusts her posture - her body continuing to warble and jiggle. Before Mitsuru’s very eyes, she seems to grow - and not merely in girth. Shadowy sweat rolled down the Empress’ face as she rose upward - growing closer and closer to the vaulted ceiling of Tartarus. Her figure doesn’t merely grow in proportion, but swells outward - until she’s doubled in height and girth; drinking deeply from the anguish and supernatural power of her prey. 
 
The Empress’ outfit seems only to partially accommodate her growth - the pants seem to grow tighter and smaller, retreating into the recess of her crotch as it’s outgrown by her flabby thighs and eclipsed by her gut. Her top, however - continues to cover her chest, even as it juts outward in two fatty, wobbling orbs. Against the ‘fabric’ of her top, shapes begin to define themselves - at first, Mitsuru expected something more… Lewd… But, keeping in tone with the strangeness of her new anatomy, she can see the familiar masks of a Maya - looking like anguished faces trapped beneath her faux-clothing. 
 
               “Hah… Hah… Hah…~” the Empress pants, lowering both hands to her massive gut. Her fingers pinch tightly against the shadowy flesh - a feeling evoking ecstacy from the former human. “An Empress should stand unopposed, in all regards… And with this power, I will make it so.” Be it a result of her size or her further corruption, her voice booms with unearthly might through the halls of Tartarus. 
 
She looks down to her scepter on the ground - which melts, slinking across the floor like a shadowy eel before being reabsorbed under her heel. Begrudgingly parting one hand from her stomach, she manifests the scepter again - pointing it toward Mitsuru.
 
“Darling - if you would, release the cretin.” she orders - and the Emperor obeys, brusquely dropping Mitsuru. Still in the throes of terror, she doesn’t expect to be so suddenly dropped, leading to her collapsing on the ground. The Empress advances upon her with thundering steps, each one causing her corpulent form to noticeably bounce. Her stomach seemed to be the most blatantly subject to this - beyond simply being… Prominent upon her form, it had grown to such a degree as to form a distinct fold laterally along her navel, dividing it as though into two segments.
 
The Empress leverages her scepter at Mitsuru - the orb upon it glowing pink. Within moments, Mitsuru seems to stop shuddering, and the anxious chill pervading her form seems to melt away in favor of a cozy warmth. The heiress’ lips part from having been so pensively and disgustedly pursed - falling agape as she beholds the Empress before her. 
 
“Bow.” the Empress demands, and with sluggish and exhausted movements, Mitsuru adjusts herself on the ground, complying with her wishes. She comes to rest upon her knees, bowing so deeply that her forehead comes to rest upon the ground. With no further orders from the queen, she remains in her position - even as the boastful Shadow continues to speak. “That’s more like it. A disgusting little thing like you should know its place.”
 
 
Mitsuru bows, unflinching, even as another wet snap resounds from above her. She remains still as she feels something touch her - a heavy, syrupy substance rolling across her back - and droplets unevenly falling upon her head and legs. Underscoring the wetness is another sensation of warmth - wind rushing over her body. Even so, she sits still…
 
Until the Empress orders her to “Rise.” When the Kirijo heiress sits up, she finds herself staring down a massive maw. Blubbery blue lips yawn open before her, set before even, blocky teeth which in turn sit before a seemingly infinite abyss of darkness. Globules of blackened slobber roll across a lecherous blue tongue lolling out from between the lips - and resting upon it, a red armband. Though obscured by the Shadow’s drool, Mitsuru can clearly make out the text S.E.E.S. The familiarity strikes a chord with her-
 
But is eclipsed as the maw before her curls into a smile. Entranced, Mitsuru smiles back. She looks upward - finding Yukari’s face glowering down at her; and dazed as she is, it takes her a moment to register what had become of the Empress. A human mouth unable to sustain her ravenous desires, a mouth more befitting of her inhuman nature manifested upon her belly - broader and closer to her stomach so that she might consume to her cold heart’s content. 
 
“Now…” The Empress begins - only for her secondary mouth to finish her sentiment. “Present yourself for your Empress.” The voice comes out warbled - it manifests less as a solitary voice and more of a blend of several others - one high and lofty, another low and throaty, a convalescence of what one would expect from a woman of nobility underscored by only a faint hint of Yukari’s voice.
 
 Its blue tongue extends further - offering a place for Mitsuru to rest. The entranced student stands shakily, though her jerking motions suggest resistance more than fear. Regardless of her will - she submits herself to that of the Empress - the moment she lays her hand on the Shadow’s tongue, its saliva, as though bearing a will of its own, adheres to the human. Gently, she lays herself down upon it, growing wrapped in thin strands of Shadowy essence; like a cocoon. 
 
               As the tongue rolls up and slinks back into her gullet, the Empress’ lower maw gives a toothy grin, shared by the lips properly upon her face. The last insolent creature’s power was already beginning to course through her - to be consumed, like the rest; and what remains - its anguished emotions and transmuted mass - would serve her in a new form.
 
               
 
               And yet, as she brandished her scepter again, the Empress didn’t feel satisfied. The very concept of satiety had been lost upon her - a successful conquest simply preceding the next. “Oh, da~arling.” she calls, looking over to the Emperor, which wordlessly acknowledges her. “Let us away from this place - royalty such as us needs an appropriate throne from which to command.” She twirls her scepter and orders the Shadow to her side - which quickly arrives and matches her waddling pace. As they strolled through Tartarus in search of a proper throne - Shadows seemed to congregate nearby, following in their wake. 
 
               The sight made both of the Empress’ mouths beam with pride - an Empress needed subjects, after all.
 


 
               Something was changing in Tartarus. 
 
               While it had always been home to powerful Shadows - the sheer power of some had begun to affect the very structure of the already-labyrinthine tower. A construct wrought from the same cognitive distortions as the Shadows themselves, Tartarus possessed a shared bond with them - and thus, was able to be changed, or in turn change the Shadows within it. With the tower ever-changing and reshaping - Shadows within it became lodestones to its growth and change. To say the tower became subject to their will wouldn’t be wholly true - as few had a discernible will with which to command their surroundings… 
 
               All, save a specific case. 
 
               The Empress returned to the tower as though she had never left it - as though she  hadn’t been crushed at the hands of the human interlopers. She moved through the tower with a familiar sense of arrogance, and with a practiced sense of ease - sure in her step within even the most twisted of halls. As with other Shadows of her ilk, she returned stronger than when she had left - but what she carried; what she had preyed upon, set her leagues above her peers in power - a position which, ultimately, she had already considered herself to occupy. 
 
               It had been one week since her return; and already her presence in the tower had become known. It was beyond a common Shadow’s capacity to recognize human concepts of fealty; and yet, the Empress found her presence engendering the obedience of those beneath her - in power and in stature. Her feet; one and the same with the shoes visible upon them, marched with thunderous steps as she moved through the halls - nose up, chest out, and uncaring of any lesser creatures she might crush beneath her heel. 
               Her power extended beyond merely her physical bulk or magical affinity, but in the very nature of her new existence. A Shadow having usurped a human mind and soul; one that had been tempered with the power of Persona, controlled among the most dangerous forces in Tartarus: perception, and a true will of her own. Consumed in her own arrogance and grandeur; she perceived her decrees - upon the lesser Shadows, and upon the very land itself, as law. 
 
               It had been merely a day before she found a suitable place for her throne - and it was with a single wave of her scepter that the Empress ensorcelled the twisted stone of Tartarus to forge it. Cement tore the floor before her and tiles lept from the walls to line it more ‘comfortably’ - forging a broad seat for a woman as broad as herself, partnered with a slimmer seat for her Emperor. The two shared a bond of power; its strength tied to hers - but lacking a will, even if it still commanded her enthralled adoration. 
 
               And yet - it took merely a day after that before the Empress had grown dissatisfied with her throne. “My throne must preside over a hall - so that my subjects can bask in my glory.” she resolved - and so laboriously marched upward. The block of Yabbashah would come to hold no less than seven thrones - until each became unsuitable. The role of an Empress was an anguished one, she would come to lament - burdened as no other by the rigors of their position. “An Empress needs a throne as grand as she, so that it might serve as tantamount to her glory.” she had realized before abandoning her third. Yet, even the grandest of thrones could not satiate her next craving - “A proper throne must also possess a balcony - to look down upon those I have risen above!”
 
               Yet, for her ‘struggles’, there was a resounding pleasure in the mere act of desire. Satiety never served as her goal - but to crave it gave her endless bliss. Presently, she’d claimed for herself a hall within the block of Tziah - just a little past the halfway point of the tower. While not… Perfect, it was comfortable… For now.
 
               As usual, the Empress had seated herself upon her proper throne. As with each of those that preceded it; its creation was a sight to behold. Already largely formed from a twisted amalgam of a preexisting structure, her mere touch caused the structure of Tartarus to shift further - stretching and deforming; materials transmuting to what she felt would be more grand, or more comfortable. Her throne was ponderously wide - large enough to accommodate the mammoth surface of her rear; her wide flanks brushing against its sides. 
 
               Her Emperor’s throne was seated beside hers - such a dutiful partner she had; never leaving it unless by her command - a near-permanent fixture for her and her court to admire. Her court, furthermore, was just as important. Throngs of Shadows populated the hall - most bowing in subservience, others simply lingering; for it is by her decree that they do so. There was a sense of pride the Empress felt in surveying her court; to see Mothers on her side, Knights on her Emperor’s, and an indistinct crowd between them. 
 
               Having few matters to address, the Empress often busied herself with rearranging them at her leisure. Tartarus was… Quiet, most of the time. The Shadows were idle; and its proverbial gates shut - until the moon rose high over the tower. The Empress wasn’t special in relishing those times - for a number of reasons. Oh, how she delighted in looking out upon the world below - cast in green light; with red pools filling the streets below. But, moreover - that was when prey found its way into their halls. Of course - that was far off, now; and at present - the Empress had grown restless.
 
               She leans to one side of her throne, casting a glance toward the Emperor. Even though she looks at him - her stomach speaks for her. “I find myself fancying a stroll. I will return at my leisure.” Admittedly, it had been a few days since she’d last spoken with… What she now considered her redundant mouth. A smaller maw for feeding, a lesser voice for speaking… It was inefficient. Her lower maw did the eating and speaking for her - though in the latter case, she didn’t often need to. Shadows obeyed her commands simply because she willed them. Speech, in itself, wasn’t necessary…
 
               But it was a whim of hers to do so - that being an excuse enough for her. 
 
               Having made her intent clear, the Empress rises from her throne, taking practiced but thundering steps down a small staircase leading to it. With a small wave of her scepter, the crowd of Shadows before her parted, allowing the corpulent ruler to navigate through, unimpeded. The heels upon her feet made a resounding, staccato clack with every step - echoing around the halls to such a degree that the entire floor was aware of her presence. As was proper, the Empress thought.
 
               Truthfully, her desire to stretch her flabby legs was only part of her motivation to leave the throne - there was a matter she wished to address. She walked the halls - and despite the congregation she’d gathered in her throne room, Shadows still milled about. Some moved from floor to floor; others were simply as restless as she was. 
 
               Eventually she arrived at a dead end - her destination. In this chamber, the ceiling rose far beyond the rest - and before her stood an appropriately tall wall. While its surface seemed to be a simple structure of marble - it was her… Additions that made it unique. Resting squarely upon the wall was a black pustule; a globule of the same mass Shadows were composed of. On either side of it sat two more - though one on its left was burst; leaving only the walls of the pustule and a few brittle ropes of drying sludge, and the one on its right was older still. Its mass had dried and crusted - turning white and continuing a slow process of assimilation into the wall beneath. 
 
               The globule twitched as it seemed to recognize her presence - though what its motions signified, even the Empress was unsure. These cocoons housed the remnants of her finest meal - processing what the Empress herself didn’t consume into more loyal servants. Having been enervated; the first two ‘hatched’ quickly - and truthfully the Empress had lost track of them. The last, however… She took especially good care of. 
 
               The Empress, in her wisdom, left a bounty for the cocoon to feed upon - to birth for her a loyal knight. Not as strong as she was - the very thought seemed ludicrous - but a servant of exceptional power; an accessory that would make her throne more complete. Not only did she plant such a fertile seed - but she’d made sure to… Nurture it. Shadows grew from desire; and few were as desirous as the Empress.
 
               A lecherous grin spread across her lower mouth, and a smug one developed on her higher one. Maintaining the latter, her belly bellowed out “Oh, boooooys~” - a sound that made the cocoon squirm; almost excitedly, even if it wasn’t the intended target of the Empress’ call. Slinking in from the halls were a few Shadows - a couple Mayas; over which hovered a number of Hands. 
 
               “Prepare me, darlings.” she orders, motioning to her clothes. The Hands were the quickest - hovering around her top half while the Mayas circled around her lower half. 
 
               The Hands reached for her collar first; their fingers wedging themselves between her inky flesh and the garment - and with a coordinated pull, they parted it from her body. It remains connected, however briefly, by ropes of black goo - which quickly break as it’s pulled further. Her cape follows suit, and another pair reaches for her top; pinching against the ‘fabric’ until they get a good grip. Each one pulls in an opposite direction - and holes quickly form within the garment; which tears away like a membrane - allowing her breasts to fall free, bouncing over her belly and remaining capped with the lesser Shadows’ masks. 
 
               The Empress gives a low bellow of pleasure, reaching up to squeeze her breasts together. This process of disrobing - it was little more than shedding aspects of her essence she wished to part with. Weaknesses, desires, memories - that which was to be embraced by the conscious rather than suppressed. That which remained of… What was that thing’s name again? That whose face she still begrudgingly wore…
 
               The Empress’ musings were cut short as she heard a stomping in the halls behind her. Turning - she can see the corridor dominated by the hulking form of a Gigas. It stood nearly as tall as she did - and lumbered ineloquently toward her. Her yellow eyes flashed with desire as she beheld its burly form. Chuckling lowly, the Empress moves over to the cocoon, coming to rest on the ground beside it. Her legs spread - and the Hands hover over her thighs, spreading them further and dimpling into her shadowy skin. 
 
               Beside her, the Mayas clumsily palm under the doughy surface of her gut, looking for the stretched waistband of her pants - she giggles from both mouths as their fingers tickle at her. When they finally find their mark, they shred it just as her top had been - the garment quickly dissolving into sludge - some of which leaks out from between her legs. The Gigas’ lumbering steps slow as it stands before its Empress, awaiting its orders.
 
               Her own lusts nourished the cocoon - which thrummed nearby. Looking up at it, the Empress could see a solid mass take shape upon it - a greyish plate, bearing the numeral XII. Her eyes widen, and she leans over - her upper lips purse as she delivers a kiss to the sludgy sphere. Even with her upper lips locked on it, her stomach coos at it - a bit of black drool slipping past the blue lips. “Oooooh, hungry are we?”
 
               Her eyes turn to the Gigas and it approaches. Its burly hands reach down for the garment over its crotch - and the Empress’ eyes flash as it begins to peel it away.
 
               The Empress’ lower mouth yawns open - her tongue slopping over her lips ravenously. She squeezes her breasts again as the Gigas lowers itself upon her. “Don’t you worry, dear. We’re going to eat well tonight.”
 
               As the Empress… Indulges, she finds the Shadow just as restless as the rest - she certainly wasn’t complaining; but she supposed it was only natural. 
 
               They were only a few days away from a full moon, after all.