Makeup Curse Season 2 Part 6&7 (Trigger Warning!) (Patreon)

Hey all - these are kinda dark. So, if you don't like bad guys doing bad guy things... maybe passAnyways, if you're interested in the Grimalkin saga - there's alot happening here. Enjoy

Makeup Curse S2 Part 6

Dust lifts and settles around them as Elm sits, watching Ross with a satisfied grin. He takes a slow sip from a drink of his own making, held in an obsidian glass goblet. The glass itself is fashioned from sand melted by the heat of Green’s attack on the factory all those years ago.

His seat creaks as she reaches for his notepad. On it, numbers decline in value, starting at nine, crossed out until the number seven, which is heavily circled.

“Young Ross…” Elm says, clearing his throat at the same time. “Wake up, young Ross. We have work to do.”

In the bed below him, Ross sleeps. Curled up, still wearing his jogging wear that is stretching to encase his newly curved body, uncovered by the dusty sheets around him. His newly feminized body is the reason he’s sleeping. Shocked into fainting by the sight of his transformation upon waking up to see it for the first time.

“Wake up!” Elm kicks Ross’s feet. “Now, woman.”

Ross groans, shifts, and begins to shiver as his eyes slowly open.

“Ah, good.” Elm lightly chuckles, kicking him once again. “There was me thinking you were dead, young Ross. Come on now, wake up. I want to talk to you.”

There’s a moment of silence before Ross’s mind catches up and the memory of his gender switch bursts to the front of his mind. He looks in Elm’s direction, terrified, before grabbing frightened at the long purple hair cascading down his face.

He doesn’t say anything, but his expression tells the entire story. The fear in his eyes is almost enough to bring the old man to laugh. Ross shuffles back on the bed, sitting up as far away as possible from Elm.

His arms crossed around his knees as he sits, hiding his female body like that somehow stops it from being real.

“No need to glare at me, child.” Elm sits back with the ease and confidence of someone completely in charge. With his glass, he points at Ross and smiles. “Good, seems you’ve got over the shock of that new body.”

Ross glances down, but only for a second. His face goes white at the sight of a female chest filling the sports bra he’s wearing. “H-How do I change back?” Ross grits his teeth tight, trying his best not to cry.

“Change back?” Elm lifts a single eyebrow before leaning closer. “Why would you do that, young Ross. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I…erm,” he looks away, resting his chin on one of his arms.

“Well, good.” Elm sits up straight. “I don’t want to concentrate too much on your gender swap, young Ross. It’s but a footnote. The quicker you accept what you’ve done to yourself, the better.”

“B-But How?” Ross asks, rightly confused, almost terrified.

Elm stares vacantly in his direction for an extended moment. Impatient showing on his face at a question he barely has time or interest in answering.

“You’re a Formador. I already told you.” He eventually answers, but quickly moves the conversation forward, lifting a page on his notepad and reading it. “Now, let’s test—”

“No!” Ross raises his voice and interrupts. “That’s not good enough, old man! I know there’s weird shit here going on that I don’t understand, but how the hell have I transformed myself into a girl!?” Ross looks down at one of his hands. “I-Is it something to do with the makeup? Did wearing that makeup cause this?”

Elm drops the pages of his notepad, then exhales a frustrated breath. “The makeup?” he asks.

“Y-Yeah…” Ross nods a few times. “It caused Becca to turn into a man.”

“The prince always was a man, just hidden in a girl's form for protection.”

“Still turned her into a man,” Ross replies, desperate for answers. “So, is it the same for me?!”

Slowly, but with real purpose, Elm reaches into his pocket. His eyes light up with sheer delight as he reveals an iridescent shard of glass in the palm of his hand. He plucks it up with his other hand and raises it into the air. It catches the light, shimmering with a spectrum of rainbow colors that bathe the dark, dusty, damp room in welcoming warmth.

“By makeup, do you mean this?” Elm asks, moving it between his fingers.

Ross stares at the rock, almost mesmerized.

“Seems it’s reverted to its original shape,” Elm states, bringing it closer to his face to study. “But no. This thing didn’t directly transform your gender; I believe it might have been the catalyst for your new state."

Carefully placing the shard back into his pocket, Elm keeps his eyes on Ross the entire time. “Seems your species has the same genetic… ’ defense’ to remnants' presence.” Elm gently smiles, looking off in thought. “Maybe humans and grimalkins aren’t as different as I first thought.”

“I don’t believe you! You're trying to trick me!”

“So distrusting!” Elm scoffs.

“Fuck you.” Ross flips the old man off before awkwardly getting to his feet, unused to his slender yet curvy body. As he rests one hand gently on his wider hips, he glares at the old man. “I’m going to find Becca. I don’t want to be anywhere near you anymore.”

“Sit down,” Elm says gently at first, but is sharper the second time. “Sit. Down.”

“Fuck off. Ross flips him off a second time. Tucking hair behind his ears and out of his face, he starts looking around for an exit. “Transformed into a girl or not, Becca will know who I am, and I’m not waiting for her to return here with you.”

Ross takes a step off the bed and steps onto the cold floor with his bare feet, shivering. “Everything inside me screams out to kill you, old man.” He stares daggers from behind the thin strands of purple hair falling back in front of his eyes. “Think yourself lucky I’m going to leave peacefully.”

“You will try.”

Ross flips him off a third time. “What are you going to do about it, old man?”

Silence from Elm as Ross cautiously walks away, watching the old man more closely with every step. Eventually, growing more confident, he lets his guard down. He rushes toward the door, where daylight streams in through the small window above it.

“Stop,” Elm commands, and in that moment, the air around Ross almost freezes, as all the energy in the air is stripped away in a split second.

“Urgh.” Ross can barely move, let alone stand. His knees tremble beneath him, as though the weight of an entire building presses down upon his shoulders. Before he can even think, his legs buckle, and he is forced to the floor, crushed beneath an invisible force that bears down upon him.

Struggling to even breath, Ross tries and struggles to move, causing Elm to chuckle at his desperation.

“I told you to sit down.”

Blood begins to pour from Ross’s eyes and ears as the relentless weight makes the old, dusty floor beneath him crack and begin to buckle. Ross wants to cry out in pain, but he’s breathless, his lungs compressed.

“I’ve tested it, y’know,” Elm says idly. “How long someone can take the pressure I’m exerting before they go to the big tree in the sky.”

Elm looks at one of his hands, picking at his nails. “You’re young and healthy.” He thinks for a moment. “ A weak Human, though.” He smiles. “I’d say one minute and twenty-five seconds.”

Ross’s eyes bulge from their socket. He can’t even speak. Blood rolls from his ears and into his mouth, pooling around his face on the floor that splinters around him in a circle pattern.

“I’m guessing right now, young lady Ross.” Elm looks at him, crushed to the floor. “Your survival instincts are screaming out, but you can’t do a thing. It’s certain death.”

Cracking sounds echo off the walls, and neither of them is sure if that’s the floor breaking or Ross’s bones cracking under the pressure.

“Can you feel it, Ross?” Elm stands up from his chair and saunters over to him, standing just out of the circle of damaged floor, being crushed by an invisible forced around Ross like a bubble. “Deep within you, like all Formadors, is an energy waiting to be set free.” He pauses and collects himself with a breath. “let out of its box, young Ross. Use that gift.”

Elm crouches so Ross can see him. He looks into Ross’s terrified, bloody eyes and grins wide. “I know you can feel it, Ross. I’ll release you if you give me some of that energy. Make me feel young again and not like I’m hundreds of years old!”

In that same breath, Elm feels elation across his body. Aching joints disappear. Hair, once grey, becomes jet black. His eyes, cloudy, become clear, and in the space of seconds, his once haggered appearance is reborn, youthful and full of exuberance.

“Yes, Young Ross!” He springs from his kneeling position, his feet leaving the ground. “Yes! Very well done!

Elm touches his arms, his chest, and then his face. “Brilliant. Amazing! Superb!” Elm stretches out his body, joints cracking and popping as everything settles into place. “Outstanding! Yes, I feel energized!” Elm lifts his arms to the sky. “I feel youth coursing through my veins!”

Still being crushed beneath the invisible pressure, Ross stops breathing. His eyes roll back into his head. Then, without warning, the pressure vanishes. Dust and droplets of blood explode into the air around him, as though the space he occupies has suddenly become a vacuum. With the force gone, the surrounding air rushes in to fill the void.

“Hey, hey…” Elm finally pays attention to Ross, close to death, barely breathing. “You’re not done yet, young Ross.” Elm moves closer, his steps careful as the floor looks like it might break with the slightest pressure.

“Come on.” Elm scoops Ross into his arms with ease. “Let’s get you back into bed, young lady Ross. I don’t want you to die just yet. We still have much work to do.”

Barely conscious, Ross’s eyes close and reopen for but a second before he passes out, his body limp in Elm’s arms as blood drips to the floor from his chin.

“You're lucky.” Elm steps toward the bed on the floor. “Last time I had to do that, the floor beneath them was concrete and less forgiving than the wood in here.” Elm drops Ross into the bed and loosely covers him with the sheets, not bothering to wipe the blood from his mouth, ears, and eyes.

“Let’s just say, between the pressure and the solid floor, their body… umm, broke apart into a puddle much quicker than I expected.

Elm sits in his chair. He reaches for his notepad and quickly crosses out the number seven and circles the number six below it.

“Impressive, Human,” Elm remarks, once again marveling at his now youthful hands. “I wonder if you’ll hit nine, like a grimalkin, before your life force is completely depleted…?”

Elm leans back, looks up, and cackles out a deafening howl of a laugh. “Perhaps the prince would be proud of you, human!” he wipes a little drool from his mouth. “Perhaps you’d even be worthy of carrying the princess's child.”

Elm settles back into his chair, hand on his obsidian cup, and takes a sip.

“Maybe I’ll let you have a role to play after all…!”

Makeup Curse Part 7

The sun sets, and a warm, golden haze shines across the messy, dusty room. Ross, still unconscious, blood dried around his mouth, eyes, and ears, is being watched over by Elm, who sits silently in his chair, making notes.

Some food sits on the table beside him, untouched, along with some brownish water from the old worn down factory’s taps.

Elm reaches into his pocket, pulling out the shard, once the makeup used on Ross’s face all those months ago, and holds it in front of his eyes.

Quiet, almost silent moments pass as Elm watches the shard of the orb flash bright, then dull, and flash bright again, as if it’s reacting to something.

“Interesting…” Elm says quietly to himself, his voice now much steadier and clearer since forcing Ross to reverse his aging. “Very interesting.”

Holding it in his hand, he can almost feel the immense power held within the small glass fragment, created in his lab back on Yibixus so many years ago.

“Linked, perhaps?” Elm looks closer as the shard dims. “Yes,” he writes down some notes on the pad resting to his side. “Yes, I think so.” The shard then shines brighter, making him look away.

Once it dims again, he places the shard upon his knee, reaching over to his cane, now no longer needed to help him walk. He studies the handle for a moment before flipping over a secret compartment, exposing another shard, this one bigger, but reacting just as the same as the one on his knee.

“Let’s see…” Elm watches closely as he places them side by side, and like magnets, they cling together. “Drawn to each other?” He pulls them apart with ease. “After all these years, they still retain power, although no soul energy has been taken…”

He makes a note before mumbling a theory to himself. “They must still be powered by the remnant. That’s how Green can track them.” He furrows his brow. “But only sometimes? Perhaps their use flags and marks its location to the remnant?”

Elm scratches at his face as the two shards, now one in each hand, glow bright. “Symbiosis.” He says in thought. “One is given eternal life and the other, given a vessel to enact a will it can’t alone.”

Slowly, he brings the two pieces together, and with a snap, they click. “If one could overpower the remnant's will, they’d be eternal to force their own will upon this universe.”

Elm sits silent as he pulls the shards apart and smiles to himself with the ease with which he does so, but then there’s a cough, interrupting his thought process.

“Y-You sound like a cheesy comic villain,” Ross says, barely able to speak as he wakes. “W-What…” his voice croaky, but sarcastic “…are you going to do, try and make yourself into a god?”

“Amusing, young lady Ross,” Elm replies, unimpressed as he gathers the two shards and slides them into separate pockets. He then looks down at Ross, lording it over him from his chair as Ross wipes dried blood from his mouth and eyes. “What do you know of gods, child?”

“Enough,” Ross spits and glares. “Enough to know you aren’t one, you sad little man.”

Elm throws his head back, laughing like a maniac.

“Sad little man?” he asks, between his cackles. “W-What does a…” Elm looks down at Ross, his expression now very stern. “A…little human girl know about being a man, let alone a god.”

Ross is about to reply, but Elm shifts forward in his chair with one sharp movement, making him flinch back, scared.

“Ha, see.” Elm takes delight in his reaction. “You’re just like everyone else. Scared, lost, and in need of guidance.”

Ross blinks several times, rubbing at his sore arms as he remembers the pressure that almost killed him. “W-W-What did you do before? I-I felt like I was under a bus.”

A smug grin works its way across Elm’s face, and he leans back in his chair, hands brought together. “If you promise to be a good girl. I’ll answer some of your questions.”

Ross remains still, too scared to move from the bed and unsure if he’d even be able to stand on legs that might potentially be broken from the amount of pain emanating from down there.

“No response?” Elm comments, tapping his leg. “Okay, seeing as you are being a good girl, I’ll fill your tiny human mind with some things I find intriguing.” Elm reaches once again for his cane, which was placed beside him where he sits.

“Despite my appearance, I’m a grimalkin,” Elm states, lifting his cane into the air as he begins to draw a perfect oval in midair. “We, as a species, have the ability to create bridges across what you scientists call space and time.”

In front of them both, a window to another location appears. They both see the location from different viewpoints as they look at the portal, almost silently floating in the air between them.

“See, young lady Ross.” Elm closes the portal with a snap of his cane to the floor. “It’s my belief that our species was visited by some sort of godlike power in our ancient past that bestowed upon us the ability to create these portals.”

Ross looks at the food beside Elm.

“I have no concrete evidence that this is the case, mind you.” Elm notices Ross looking at the food, and he lifts the plate and holds it towards Ross, just far enough for it to be out of reach. “No evidence other than some scriptures from our past and the existence of interstellar portals scattered around my broken home world that no one could ever replicate as much as we tried.”

Ross wants the food, but he’s frozen with fear. Elm waves around the plate, teasing him.

“Move for your food, child.”

Ross does just that, but although his bones aren’t broken, he’s heavily bruised and barely able to move. Through grunts of pain, he shuffles across, snatches the small plate of food and scurries away.

“Good.” Elm watches Ross eat like an animal, so desperately hungry. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you before. That would have been… unacceptable.” Elm leans forward, making Ross stop eating to look at him, scared.

“Because you, young lady.” Elm taps Ross’s foot with his cane. “Are a resource that’s no longer in abundance now that my species is basically extinct.”

Laughing as Ross shivers before him, so scared he’s unable to eat, Elm leans back in his chair, places his cane between his legs, and looks up at the ceiling with a smile.

“Did you know, young lady Ross, that our species actually have met before?”

Ross doesn’t reply; he just gratefully eats the last morsel on the plate.

“Yes.” Elm nods once. “I’ve read about ancient Egypt. It’s my firm belief that my species visited yours many thousands of years ago.” Elm lifts his eyebrows in thought. “Curious that these ancient Egyptians revered cats, isn’t it?”

Elm scratches at his hair. “Makes me wonder at what point the interstellar portal between Earth and Yibixus became corrupted and which one of our species was the one to do so…” Elm smiles to himself. “Humans are unable to travel to Yibixus; their DNA is incompatible with our planet, and on the reverse, giimalkins revert to that of an Earth feline.”

Elm looks Ross in the eye, who’s barely listening. “Isn’t that curious, young lady Ross?”

“I-I…I want you to let me go.”

“No,” Elm replies quickly, looking frustrated, but continues. “Now, something I do find really fascinating, and I’ve researched personally, is the Egyptian gods Sekhmet and Bastet.”

Carefully placing the empty plate beside him, Ross brushes loose strands from his eyes and brings his legs up to his chest to hug them tight. He starts shivering. “P-Please let me go.” He murmurs.

Elm ignores his pleas.

“Gods of War, young lady Ross,” Elm says proudly. “There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that they are grimalkins, once worshiped, seen as gods by your ancient human ancestors.”

Ross snaps. “I don’t care!” he picks up the plate in a bold move to throw at Elm, but quickly loses confidence and starts muttering, scared. “I-I’m sorry. Don’t h-hurt me again!”

A curious smile grows on Elm’s face.

“Scared of me now, are you, young lady Ross?” His chair squeaks as he slowly leans forward. “What happened to all that fight you had earlier, or is it that you’ve grasped the situation here and how powerless you really are?”

Elm slaps his legs with both hands, making Ross jump in fright. “Well, okay then!” Elm starts to laugh. “I’ll cut to the chase. Bastet is also an ancient grimalkin word meaning ‘perfected’. I want to…” Elm points, making Ross flinch, “…to use what remains of your life force to get closer to becoming a grimalkin god of war.”

Elm’s smile grows sickly and smug. “Do you understand, young lady Ross. What an honor for you to even be in the presence of a god!”

Although shivering and terrified of the now much younger-looking man sitting in front of him, Ross is defiant. “Y-You won’t get away with this!” he shouts, his feminine voice almost shrieking out. “When Becca finds o-out what you’ve been doing to me, s-she’ll kill you!”

“BECCA!?” Elm howls out in laughter, enjoying the moment so much he almost pushes himself backward off his rickety chair. “Young lady Ross…” he laughs more. “I’ve sent her to almost certain death. That boy’s gotta contend with Ursula and even Green to get back that shard I’ve requested.”

“N-NO! S-She’ll save me!”

“I very much doubt that,” Elm says plainly, settling into his seat, hands brought together for comfort, staring at poor Ross, shaking nervously before him. “Now, settle down, young lady Ross, or I’ll punish you like before, and this time I won’t stop until I crush your bones just enough so you're still alive but in extreme agony.

The air turns cold again around Ross, like before, and instantly Ross starts to cry out, afraid.

“N-No!” he throws his hands up in surrender, desperation written across his face. “P-Please, No! T-Tell me more a-a-about grimalkins! P-Please.”

The air around Ross returns to normal, but although relieved, he’s hyperventilating from the panic.

“Oh, now you want to know more, huh?” Elm taps the arm of his chair several times in thought, letting Ross stew in his own fear, panic, and despair.

However, to his surprise, Ross asks a question, though quietly so as not to anger him.

“What was that?” Elm asks rudely. “Speak up.”

Ross talks again.

“I can’t hear you, girl. Speak up!”

“Grimalkins c-c-c-can make portals?”

“Ah…” Elm gives a toothy grin. “Yes. Yes, we can. All we need to do is imagine a place in our mind's eye, then focus that thought and draw the destination in front of us, and then poof! There’s a portal!”

“L-Like this?” Ross draws an oval with one shaking hand.

“Yes, with a destination in mind, you’d create one.”

Ross’s eyes flash with determination. He moves swiftly where he sits. “Great!” he shouts out, curling himself into a ball as his body quickly begins to morph and change before Elm’s very eyes.

Shocked and taken completely by surprise, Elm’s eyes burst wide open as the Human girl in front of him sprouts fur all across their body. Ross’s face changes shape, his hands morph into paws, and a subtle purple colored tail appears behind him like a snake jumping in the air.

“No!” Elm shouts out angrily, jumping up from his chair as Ross pounces from the bed in the other direction. “Stupid girl! What have you done!”

For a second, they are meters apart from each other, just staring. Elm stands on the bed Ross once lay on, and Ross sprawls on the floor, trying to adjust to his body completely changing into that of a grimalkin.

“You stupid!”

Ross stands, interrupting Elm as he throws up his hand and draws a perfect oval in the air.

“Fuck you, old man!” Ross screeches, drawing an oval over and over again with a single pointed claw from his newly transformed paw, becoming more and more desperate as no portal appears, like Elm told him it would.

“Oh no…” Elm says with a sardistic smile and a tilt of his head. “Did I forget to mention that you needed an implement to focus your energy?” Elm taps his chin as he takes in a sight he’s not seen for many years. “My goodness, you’re quite the specimen now, aren’t you, young lady Ross?”

Elm steps closer, making Ross squeal out in fear, paws held out in front of his eyes in pure disbelief at what he’s done to himself.

“Thank you.” Elm smiles and nods as he approaches. “Thank you for reminding me what my species looks like.” Elm brings his hands to his face. “I’ve looked like a stupid ape for so many years I’d started to forget!”

“B-Back away!” Ross steps back, paws out in Elm’s direction. “I-I…I feel stronger…like this.” Ross threatens, but it’s barely a threat. “I-I’ll hurt you.”

“Now, now,” Elm starts to circle. “We’ve got ourselves a little issue here, haven’t we?”

“N-No… we haven’t,” Ross says as tears begin to soak into the fur around his eyes. “P-Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please.”

The air around Ross begins to turn cold again. Not as noticeable as before on bare skin, but Ross knows what’s coming. He falls to his knees, fumbling with his paws, trying to put them together to plead for mercy.

“No, please!” Ross’s tail flaps crazy behind him.

“I don’t like that you’re a lowly human, taking the form of a mighty grimalkin, young lady Ross,” Elms admits, continuing to circle as the air gets colder and colder. “How dare you.”

Ross’s tail flaps the floor again, kicking up dusty before smacking at the back of his head. “I’ll transform myself bac—”

Elm interrupts with the utmost speed. “NO. NO, you don’t!” and in that moment, Ross feels pressure building, but from behind. Seconds later, his tail is ripped from his body and hurled across the room.

Ross howls out in pain as blood gushes from the wound where he’s tail has been ripped clean off. His eyes, wide with fear, stare at Elm before he once again blacks out, his face hitting the floor with a thump.

Elm stands over him, disgusted.

“Stupid girl.” He kicks Ross’s body. “How dare you transform yourself into that. You are not a grimalkin, and you never will be.”