Club Roquette: Princess Damsela (Patreon)

Damien tried his hardest to ignore the blaring of his alarm clock. Getting up, it was just one more reminder of his situation here.

"Just fuck my life." the 'trainer' thought as he pushed the covers away. Turning off his alarm, his gaze fell upon the orange corset around his chest. Already tightened up, he felt like such an idiot here. How the heck hadn't he noticed part of his outfit left on. Or was this a trick by Mistress Zard to ensnare him into a relationship? While his feelings when it came to the charmander line were well known, his heart seemed to skip a beat just thinking about her. Stupid feelings. Never did help, contrary to what the boss claimed. So what if she claimed to know. She was still a bitch and nothing would change that fact.

Letting out a sigh, the sound of scratching against his door caught Damien's attention. Heading over, Damien had a pretty good idea on who wanted to talk with him. All the more reason to not keep them waiting. Getting changed could wait.

"Here I am!" Damien answered and charged for the door. Stopping right in front of it, he pulled it open. Waiting patiently on the other side, was an araquanid. A note had been set on their abdomen - likely what they were delivering to him. "Thank you."

The araquanid nodded, raising their head up in anticipation of a pet. Damien reluctantly gave one, watching the messenger head off. Once out of sight, he closed the door. He had a pretty good idea of what this was about.

Mistress Zard summons you

One of these days, Damien liked to believe he would be calling the shots. Yes, it was unlikely, but Mistress Zard could be his ticket to the top. Or at least, a position that wasn’t directly performing. He could make a good secretary. Not that Mistress Zard would let him.

Shoving that thought away, Damien stripped down to his panties and corset. Sitting down, he took a moment to open the drawers up. Out came a wig cap.. fitting it over his hair, he stared into the glass. Thankfully, he hadn't forgotten to take off his makeup. Would've sucked if he forgotten to do that. None of the other girls would let him live that down. Maybe Assley. But she was the new queen, so she didn't count. Did have quite an ass to match her name. Had to a round with her, if she wanted that. While there were drag kings in the club, they were usually the sort that were used elsewhere.

"Ugh…" Damien muttered and got to work. Applying some vibrant blue glitter eyeshadow, his thoughts turned to Mistress Zard. He could still remember his first encounter with her. For some reason, the boss decided that she would directly introduce them together.

Of course, Mistress Zard did not take the meeting too well, attempting to use the boss’s Mawile to hit her. Not that it would work. Mostly on the count that Mawile hugged people more than she fought. Such a weird pokemon to keep around. There was bound to be a story there, not that he was going to pry. The boss had her reasons. If she was willing to tell them, then Damien would be all ears.

The session that had followed… was rough. Even with the language barrier, Mistress Zard made it fundamentally clear that some residual feelings about her ‘Damien’ had leaked through into her treatment of him. Mostly in the form of shouting in her language, she very much used him to work out her aggression. And yet, there was something about Mistress Zard that made Damien’s heart race. Perhaps this summons was just another sign of the truth they both knew.

Shoving that thought away for now, Damien moved to his cheeks. Applying some peach-colored blush, it even smelled like the fruit in question. Not that he had much of a frame of reference beyond that. What citrus they could get was provided via tropius, it all kind of tasted the same. While the lower parts of the club managed to do some kind of technological metamorphosis, that didn’t change the fact that it didn’t quite match the produce found in Kanto. Perhaps one day he and many others would be able to go back to their homes. While not the same place as they left (on account that IT had destroyed most of the universes they had called home), it would be a start. But then he would have to leave behind people like Mistress Zard. Such an odd conundrum to think over.

Setting his blush down, in its place came some orange glitter lipstick. Bringing it up to his lips, Damien took care to get an even coat. Mistress Zard had a reputation to uphold. Even something simple as an uneven coat of lipstick would come across as an easily caught imperfection under her standards. He didn’t even get to go up on stage with her for the first year, mostly because he managed to always fuck one thing up in either his attire or looks. Now, it seemed like Damien was one of the select few she worked with. While being a star was cool, it did sometimes feel like he was only able to focus on other personas. Just another thought to bother him at the moment as he added to his makeup.

Letting out a deep breath, Damien stared into the mirror. A boobless queen awaiting her outfit, wig and of course, boobs. Couldn’t forget about the last one. Even with his corset on, it should be pretty easy to slip a set in. Definitely a D. Maybe even double Ds. Yeah. Mistress Zard would enjoy that. She liked queens with big racks and this look would be no exception.

Standing up, Damien scooped up a black robe with red accents. Perfect traveling attire when one needs to get ready, it did little to actually hide the corset. Add in the heeled mules with the pretty black fur, it just made it even better. Slipping both articles of clothing on, Damien took the time to close up her robe. Even without her bust in place, the corset gave the illusion that she had. Not that any of the other queens would notice. No, they were focused on getting to their destination. Whether that was backstage, the bar or wherever else that might be in the Drag Club. In his case, it was straight to Leavanny's. She likely knew what Mistress Zard wanted. She always did. One of the few perks of having so many pokemon around. At least, when they weren’t pissed at you or under orders to not speak with anyone. What did they know that would be too dangerous to let slip. Damn near none of them could even speak anything close to that kind of tongues. Unless it was more for the pokemon than the humans. Damien wouldn’t put it past her. Pushing that thought to the backburner, her attention shifted to the hallway ahead. Not much farther to the salon. Unless she ran into someone, things should be smooth sailing. Or at least, Damien hoped they would. Stepping into the salon, the queen took a moment to catch her breath. Good of a time as any to think of a name. Hmm… what could work here. Mistress Zard was not one to really ask for a queen’s name, let alone those she had personally summoned. Yet, something about tonight suggested to Damien to give herself one anyway. But what exactly? Had to start with Princess (regardless if would be left unsaid most of the time), of course. She was likely to be put into a ballgown after all, all the more reason to go with an elegant yet silly name. Something like… Damesla. Yes. That would work perfectly. Hopefully when she told someone else, they would get her line of thinking.

“Leavanny, are you here?” Damsela announced, her voice taking a sweet and innocent tone. Just feminine enough to prepare herself for her performance with Mistress Zard, but still clear enough that everyone else would understand.

“Leav!” Leavanny announced as she approached. Looking Damsela over, she directed the queen over to a nearby chair. While the salon was currently empty, the night was still young. Soon, queens and kings of all varieties would show up to get madeover. It was probably best that Damsela had beat the crowds and gotten in now of all times. Taking a seat, Damsela felt Leavanny to push the chair forward. Staring into the mirror, Leavanny set a note down on the vanity. Just out of reach of Damsela’s vision, the queen had a pretty good idea of what was on it. Instructions on what she wanted done with her hair and perhaps any additional touch-up. Probably more of the former than the latter here. If she somehow missed something, Leavanny would chide her and then do what was missing. For now, Damsela turned her attention to the mirror. Staring into the reflection, Damsela caught a glimpse of Leavanny grabbing an orange wig. Quite a tall one, she clearly had plans to style it in an elegant, regal style. Perhaps like that Astoria lady. No, this wig looked to be even taller than her actual hair. Quite impressive, regardless of the fact that Astoria did not give a care in that regard.

“Leavan.” Leavanny announced, Damsela sitting up straight. She didn’t need to be told twice here. Feeling the wig get set down on her head, Leavanny got to work. Brushing and styling the wig into a massive tower of curls and hair, what looked to be ribbons and a crown were set within.

“Oh. A fontange!” Damsela announced and watched Leavanny clap their hands. Yes, it was quite obvious now. Though, getting into the dresses that would go with such an outfit might be quite a challenge. One that she was willing to take on with full-force. There was bound to be a dress that she could slip in-

Damsela didn’t get a chance to finish that thought, Leavanny shoving a set of false breasts into their corset. Staring down just enough to see their size, they looked to be D-cups at least. Giving them a squeeze, it’s back to looking into the mirror. Waiting for Leavanny to finish messing with her hair, Damsela caught a glimpse of her robe falling away. Tempted as she was to slip off her mules as well, those remained on. Even if they were likely to be replaced with a set of spike heels in a matter of minutes.

“Leaf.” Leavanny announced, Damsela taking that as her cue to stand up. Taking care to not accidentally drop their wig and/or boobs, she took a moment to wave. Getting a wave back, the queen minced over to the door.

Exiting back into the hallway, Damsela took a moment to catch her breath. When was the last time she had such a huge hairstyle adorning her? Whenever she had last had a duo performance with Astoria. That was certainly… an experience. While Damsela sort of understood what the lady of a drag queen was saying, she wouldn’t have minded a translator being on hand as well. No matter. That was half of the fun of these performances - getting to meet someone you knew but at the same time, very much didn’t in a lot of regards. Though, that did make the few new customers that trickled in, all the sweeter.

Letting that thought fade, Damsela headed down the hall. By no means a long walk, it didn’t change the fact that her heart was beating a mile a minute. Mistress Zard had no doubt chosen the outfit for her summoning. Likely to be big, layer and in some way humiliating, she would have to grin and bear with it. Just the nature of being a Club Roquette Queen/King. Reaching out to the door, Damsela pulled it open.

Inside, the various racks of clothes, footwear and accessories stared back. At the moment, a ‘man’ with orangish red hair was hard at work getting dressed up like a bodybuilder. In this case, that meant a pair of blue gym shorts that hide quite an impressive bulge. Muscular chest on full display, time had been taken to give the illusion of proper muscles.

“Hi Mike.” Damsela called out, closing the door as she waited for her subject to turn around and notice her. When he did, she was met with what looked like a nose bleed. Figures. Why did all the kings do that? Yes. Mike was very much a beefcake and a half, but no one saw her getting horny when around all these guys and gals.

“So, what’s the name this time?” Mike cooed, only to get a look from Damsela. Staring down at the floor for just a moment, she forced her gaze back up.

“Princess Damsela, at your service.” Damsela greeted and was met with a chuckle from the gym king. Rolling her eyes, she kept her composure. While the temptation to slap Mike here was there, she let it fade from her mind. “By any chance do you know where the outfit Mistress Zard picked out is?”

Mike pointed to the other end of the room. There, a mannequin wearing a massive orange hoop skirt gown awaited. Decked out to include multiple petticoats, the layers served less to accentuate the bulge, but rather, hide it. A set of orange opera gloves with white tips hung to the mannequin’s hands, stretching all the way past their elbow and leading right into a set of puff sleeves. Also done up in orange, they drew in Damsela’s gaze. Moving down to the feet, what looked to be a set of rather tall heels had been fitted onto the mannequin’s feet. Mistress Zard no doubt wanted her to be mincing. So mincing she would no doubt get here. Not that Damsela would give her anything else. Such behavior would be unbecoming and result in a massive punishment upon her. Damsela didn’t want that in the slightest. Walking over to the mannequin, she wasted little time in getting changed.

Slipping the sleeves and gloves off, Damsela focused on the gown. Setting what she had already grabbed down, time was taken to walk to the mannequin’s back. There, one could pull the mannequin out and put the dress on… if they had some help.

“Need some help, milady?” Mike cooed and got a very reluctant nod from Damsela. Anyone would do, but she could look past it here.

“Yes, actually.” Damsela muttered as Mike headed over. Taking care to pull the dress off, he got to work helping Damsela into the dress. Once he had, time was taken to pull the heels off of the mannequin’s feet and set them down right in front of the princess.

“Best of luck.” Mike announced, giving a wave as Damsela took the time to smooth the garment out. Shooting him a look for good measure, her attention returned to the outfit. Throwing her mules off, she slipped her feet into the new set of heels. While higher than the pair she had just put on, something about them felt far more comfortable. Ignoring that feeling for now, Damsela moved up to the puff sleeves. Sliding them up her arms, she let them rest on her shoulders. The opera gloves followed. But not before checking that the white tips were in fact fabric and not cum. They were in fact fabric. Breathing a sigh of relief, she smoothed them out. "No time like the present."

Heading for the exit, Damsela took care to keep her attire from getting dirty. Mistress Zard’s quarters were located not on the main club level but underneath, which meant finding an elevator to head do-

Or in this case, Mistress Zard could just come to her here. Dressed in a gorgeous black skirt suit, it was clear she had spent a fortune on that alone. Leading into tan pantyhose and orange spike heels, they only served to make her that much more intimidating. Add in the makeup on her face, it was clear that Mistress Zard had something in mind. Oddly, her wings and tails had remained plain.

"Princess Damsela at your service, mistress." Damsela announced and took the time to curtsey. For that gesture, Damsela found a necklace put around her neck. Staring down at it, she was reminded of a collar. Done up in citrines, what was the Mistress trying to get at here? There had to be a reason for this. Yet, she was coming up empty here.

“Char.” Mistress Zard announced, a clear and direct call to follow right behind her. Not beside, nor in front of her. Such an act would result in punishment on her part. No, Damsela would do what was asked of her. Especially as they headed for the club proper. There, no performances would be occurring. At least, beyond whatever Mike's performance was going to be. Unless… no. Mistress Zard was not the sort of dom who engaged in the public humiliation fetish. Which just left one more option - this was a date.

"Mistress Zard, can I ask you something?" Damsela remarked as they entered the drag club proper. Mistress Zard didn't even look her way, instead focused on a nearby table. Pulling a chair out, that was Damsela’s call to take a seat. By no means the kind of dress that took sitting well, Damsela did her best to not accidentally rip the frock.

Once she was seated, the princess smoothed her skirts out. Then it was over to Mistress Zard. Taking the opposite seat, it was clear that she had something on her mind.

"Mistress Zard, I appreciate the gesture of being taken out on a date. Is something wrong?" Damsela inquired and Mistress Zard looked down at the table. Muttering something at the table, she pulled her gaze back up. Why did Damsela have to make her heart go aflutter like this? She had to keep things professional and yet, she wanted to give into her instincts, leap over the table and plant a kiss on Damsela’s perfectly done up face. Absolutely unbecoming of a dom of her reputation.

"Char, charizard iz ard." Mistress Zard answered and got a nod from her date here. Nice as it was that she could sort of understand her, she much rather be speaking the same language as Damsela. Would make things a heck of a lot easier on both their parts.

"Oh. You're lonely and want to know if the feelings coursing through are legitimate. That's so kind, Mistress Zard!" Damsela chirped out, bringing with it the arrival of a waiter. A Gallade, someone had thought it would be incredibly funny to dye his garb all pink. Trying to hide his embarrassment at the moment, that didn't stop the menus from being handed out to the 'couple'.

"Gallade gal ade?" the waiter inquired and Damsela shook her head. While she understood the want to look less conspicuous right about now, pressuring them into ordering right away.

"Char…" Mistress Zard growled, the waiter deciding to back off. At least for a couple minutes. Afterwards, she reached out to Damsela's gloved hand. "Char. Charizard iza rd ara char."

Damsela’s face went red. Clear as it was that she was being flirted with, her heart knew it to be true. Which made the beating of her heart all the worse. She could very much imagine a future where she and Mistress Zard were together. Maybe not just as Damsela, but Damien as well.

"I would like that. It's just… it’s a far different mon to date the woman who is way hotter than you will ever be." Damsela answered and Mistress Zard nodded. Yes, she had jumped ahead here. But when you have someone for years, if not decades, you get get a feel for these things. A feel that you couldn't just ignore. You can try all you want, but your heart knows best. "But, I will give you a kiss. Would that make you feel better?"

Mistress Zard nodded. Leaning over the table, their lips meant. By no means a great kiss, it was more than satisfactory for one that wasn't forced. Yes, she could make some progress here. Perhaps in a date or three, one of them would pop the question. For now, Damsela ended the embrace and turned to her menu. The night was still young, after all. No telling where they would get up to after a couple drinks…

.

"Ugh…" Damsela announced as her eyes fluttered open. Sitting up, she could very much make out Mistress Zard’s arm over her boobies. Looking in the direction of her companion, she was met with a look of surprise, followed by affection. Staring down, Damsela found her dress, wig and boobs strewn about the room. The collar that Mistress Zard had put on last night now sported tones of blue mixed in with the orange. What exactly

*You look cute when you're flustered.* Mistress Zard cooed, her voice coming through crystal clear on Damsela’s end. Staring for a couple seconds, she was met with a confused look back. *Oh my it appears the necklace activated. A shame that it only works on Charizards and nothing else.*

Damsela nodded. While that was a decent enough explanation, that didn’t change the fact that she couldn’t remember the events of the previous night in the slightest.

"What exactly happened?" Damsela whispered as she leaned in closer to her beloved. Getting a hug from Mistress Zard, that was the cue for a smaller charizard to enter the bedroom. Dressed in a fetish French maid attire, a set of massive false breasts hung proudly to their chest. Gazing at Damsela for just a second, it's back over to Mistress Zard.

*You both got extremely drunk, Mistress Zard arm wrestled with Mike over something petty and then you two lovebirds engaged in a multiple hour cuddle session.* the maid explained and Damsela gulped. She stood corrected here and yet, just thinking about being in Mistress Zard’s arms sounded amazing.

"Want to do it again?" Damsela cooed and looked up at Mistress Zard. Getting a nod, the princess was treated to a kiss. That was all she needed to see here.