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Ashwick was a faded 1930s town, its sagging shops and dusty streets untouched by time. It had become home to toons. Strange beings, perhaps refugee demons, perhaps muses of old, or dreams of nightmares come into being? Their true nature was unknown, but they’d taken to calling themselves toons to ease human fears, often taking on friendly rubber-hose limbs and pie-cut eyes, becoming characters from cartoon shows that never existed. They were a quiet minority, often staying out of the way of people, but always close by. Starlight Studios, a derelict animation house from 1929, was different—its inky shadows and broken windows avoided even by toons. Evelyn, a landlord with a love for the odd, crunched the numbers and saw potential. She’d bought the old studio cheap, dreaming of a theater with gleaming floors, velvet curtains, and restored projectors.
#
“It’ll be a showpiece,” she told you, her boyfriend, over coffee, her green eyes alight.
You toyed with your mug. “That place on the other side of the hill? Kind of far from anything, Evie.”
She grinned, auburn hair loose.
“Ah… Do you think a murder is going to get me?” She laughed.
“No, I'm more worried about you tripping over broken trees or a driver not seeing you on the road.”
“Shush, you worry too much. SO! There is a large work area I can make into a stage and seating. But the floor is warped, there’s a lot of broken projectors and stuff, the decks are rotted, and the lobby’s a mess of cracked floor titles. Tonight’s my first night on the job.”
#
Dusk cloaked the studio as Evie arrived, flashlight cutting through air thick with the smell of ink and the sound of static. The lobby was a ruin of discarded animation cels and film, faded posters of grinning toons, and broken projectors. She pictured new seats, a polished stage, a marquee glowing.
A static-laced chant, like a warped sermon, stopped her. She crept to the main studio floor and saw six toon nuns gliding like chess pieces, their 1930s rubber-hose bodies towering. Long, elegant necks, pie-cut shapes for eyes, round muzzles, square silly teeth.
Each was a barnyard animal: the pig with a curly tail and round cartoon snout; the goat curved back horns; the sheep with a woolly mane puffing around her face; the horse with a flowing tail and mane shimmering; the donkey with large ears twitching; the cow with a flicking tail and large horns. Beyond those features they are all identical, even head shape is classic round bean shape, making a round muzzle shape. Their attire blended fetish and ritual: full-length, formfitting habits, tight skirts tracing legs to the floor, hiding hooves in a pool of cloth. The bodice wrapped skin-tight, arms in full-length sleeves ending in triangular-fingerless-gloves, a white topper running from throat to perky bosom, layered atop the black dress. A black veil draped over shoulders, framing faces beneath stark habits. All of them have tiny devil horns poking out from the top of their foreheads. Their large impossibly supported busts bounced, cartoonish and firm, as they glided. Their voices: identical, serene, static-laced.
The pig’s round snout twitched, cooing, “Bless our gluttonous souls, the Reel’s feast fills the void, sweet excess to sate our ravenous core.”
The goat’s curved horns gleamed, muttering, “Bless our envious hearts, crave to shine brighter in the Reel’s jealous dance.”
The sheep’s woolly mane bounced around her face, whispering and barely heard, “May slothful grace linger in repose, drifting ever in the Reel’s dreamy haze.”
The horse’s flowing mane shimmered, purring, “Bless my prideful spirit, I stand tallest in the Reel’s light, radiant and unmatched in sinful splendor.”
The donkey’s ears twitched, hissing, “Bless our wrathful fire, the Reel’s fury burns for those who~”
The cow’s tail flicked, murmuring, “Bless our greedy desire, the Reel’s riches pile high, hoarding ink to crown our covetous dais.”
#
Evie steadied her flashlight, intrigued by the spooky spectacle. The nuns stopped for a moment and turned in perfect timing with each other, looking at Evie and gliding closer to her. Their expressions unchanging, busts bouncing, grins wide and eerie.
“Bless our envious soul, we have a visitor,” the pig said, round snout sniffing.
Evie hesitated. Their pie eyes, unblinking. Their grins, unsettling yet magnetic.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice firm.
The sheep’s mane puffed. “We are the Covenant of the Inked Veil, sweet soul, weaving sins into the Great Reel’s stories.”
“That's…kind of spooky…but I own this place. I bought it. I was going to turn it into a theater for movies or gatherings. I'm going to have to ask you to leave, I think.”
“Forgive our presence in your sacred stage. Might we humbly beg to stay?” one of the nuns said in a sweet serene tone. “We sisters discovered this house of forgotten joy and took the forms of pious sisters, toons. As sinful enjoyers of flocks and herds."
The donkey’s ears twitched. “We wish not to disturb your plans of greed and pride, dear child. But we’ve grown attached to this sacred grounds and have no other domain to dwell. Might we remain, serving our Reel, acting our secret rituals to stay in these forms and on this reel of existence?”
Evie frowned, drawn to their creepy charm, round muzzles, static voices. “I’m turning this into a theater, new stage, lights, the works. What if I ask you girls to leave?”
The horse’s tail flicked. “Bless your prideful heart, dear soul. We’d fade from this reel, our forms lost, our sins unspun. We beg to stay, weaving our sacred acts.”
Evie nodded, intrigued. “Okay, but if I let you stay while I work on things, you won’t mess it up or get in my way?”
The horse bowed. “Bless your greedy heart, sweet child. We vow to honor your vision, to aid your craft.”
The cow’s tail flicked. “Our gratitude is eternal, dear soul.”
Evie smiled, warming to their eerie vibe they seemed to be trying to sell. “Okay, you can stay, for now. We’ll have to figure something else out when I decide to sell this place. Just keep it low-key.”
The sisters bowed. “Bless your lustful heart, dear soul. We are forever thankful and bless your greedful eyes for claiming this place.”
The horse glided forward, offering a gilded box with a folded dress inside. “A gift, dear lamb, for your prideful heart,” she cooed.
Evie looked in the box as the horse opened the lid, she touched it, frowning.
“What’s it? It feels like plastic.”
The horse’s smile widened, voice politely insistent. “Bless your cautious soul, sweet child, it’s the Reel’s weave, crafted to exalt your radiance. Wear it, and shine.”
Evie hesitated, drawn to its sheen. “Is it something to wear? Wait…a nun habit like yours?”
The horse nodded.
“I’ll think about it. Tomorrow, maybe. Right now, I’m just inspecting the place. I’ve got to head back before it gets darker. The road to town’s a little less safe.”
The pig nun followed, round snout sniffing, cooing, “Bless your gluttonous heart, dear lamb, I’ll ensure you reach home safely. Our forms may be slender, but our capabilities are vast. We have a vested interest in your safety now. I will accompany you to town.”
#
As Evie and the pig walked the dark road, Evie tried conversation, excited by the nun’s cryptic vibe.
“What’s it like living in that studio?”
The pig’s snout twitched. “Bless your gluttonous curiosity, dear lamb, we spin the Reel’s desires.”
Evie ask “What does that mean? What do you actually do at the old rundown studio? I didn't see much there.”
“We contemplate and meditate on sinful excess.” answered the pig.
Evie grinned, undeterred. “Okay, but what if you wanted to, say, eat at a diner? What would you order?”
The pig’s grin widened a bit. “Bless your gluttonous soul, we’d feast on ink’s excess.”
Evie gave a short sharp laugh at how needlessly vague that was. “What about dancing? Got any moves?”
The pig glided closer. “Bless your lustful heart, our sway is the Reel’s dance.”
Evie nodded, finding the creepy answers cool, her excitement growing. “The Reel isn't going to murder me next time I show up? Right?”
The pig nun walks in front of her with a gliding speed closer to a car. “Sweet cautious soul. Your earthly heart, your fearful and wrathful stirrings are just. Provoked by our forms and sinful grace. Yet I can offer no further balm, for even stirring fright among the mortals wounds our sacred name.”
“Ok…I'll take that…” Evie said, unsure of what that meant.
They walked in silence till they got to town.
#
Evie stopped at Ashwick’s bakery, the first shop on the town’s edge.
“I need to grab some bread.”
Inside, the pig approached the baker, who was eating a day-old pastry. “Bless your ravenous gluttony, dear baker, indulge in this sweet excess.”
The baker forced a smile, hand stops just before eating the pastry and tossing the pastry in the trash instead. “That’s kind of a creepy toon.”
The pig’s grin widened. “Bless your modest grace, savor it soon.”
The baker nodded, nervous, clutching her counter. “This toon following you? You okay, Evie?”
Evie shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, I don’t mind her. She’s making sure nothing bad happens to me.”
The baker grimaced.
“Umm, okay… could you ask her to wait outside? That smile’s getting to me.”
The pig glided just outside, staring in, smiling. Evie tried to grab a loft and leave, but the pies weren't real pies and she felt hunger again so she grabbed 5 more. Bought her breads, the pig rejoined her, her creepy presence oddly comforting.
Evie ate a whole loaf on the short way home.
#
At her apartment, you greeted Evie at the door and spot the pig lurking behind.
“Evie, what’s with the toon?” you asked, hands on her arm trying to pull her into safety.
Evie shrugged. “She came to the studio, just walking me home. They’re weird but okay.”
You frowned, eyeing her up and down. “Weird’s putting it mild. They’re? More than one? What’s their deal?”
She kissed your lips as a quick peck. “They’re staying while I renovate. It’s fine.”
You gripped her, uneasy. “She’s not coming in, is she?”
She laughed. “No, just walking me home. Thanks a lot… ummm…? ‘Sister pig’...?”
“Just Sister,” smiled the pig.
“Not Sister Pig?”
“No.”
She glided away, fading too quickly into the darkness, even for her black attire.
Evie filled you in on her weird night over dinner.
#
The next night, Evie returned with renovation gear: a crowbar for prying warped floorboards, a drill for securing new stage supports, a toolbox with hammers and nails, and a sight measurement notepad for sketching layouts. After hours of measuring and prying, she wondered what the sisters were doing. In an old meeting room, she found a long table piled with pies, their inky sheen odd, likely toon-made. Three nuns sat on each side, static and unmoving until Evie stood in the doorway.
The pig led a ritual chant, seeming pressing gluttony. They chanted:
Bless our gluttonous heart, sister and honor deer,
The Great Reel spins with excess we hold dear.
Feast floods the soul with ink’s sweet embrace,
Gorge and thrive in indulgence’s grace.
The sisters devoured pies, grace fully lost now, messily smashing them into muzzles, ink splattering. Any mess that splattered on their bodies they wiped away, seemingly magically, hands clean.
The pig gestured, snout sniffing. “Bless our honored host, dear sisters, please dear sit at our table’s head. In thanks for your stage you set for us, we’ve set this feast for you and your gluttony.”
Evie sat and ate the inky pies. Their sweetness was addictive. Just eating the pie made her giggle. After a few her voice turned serene and static-laced, mimicking the nuns
“Bless my ravenous heart, this is divine.”
She froze, alarmed yet thrilled by her voice’s change.
“Ummm... blessed nun toons, is this permanent?” she asked, eyes wide.
The goat, beside her, ignored the question, nudging the donkey.
“Bless your wrathful manners, sister, leave some pie.”
The donkey reached, grabbing pies from the goat.
“Your graceful reminders are welcomed, dear sister. Alas I would caution you to keep your envious eye in check.”
Evie frowned, confused by their focus on each other.
The horse nudged the sheep, cooing, “Bless your slothful poise, sister, don’t hog the crust.”
The sheep sniffed, “Mind your prideful grace, dear.”
Evie, excused herself politely “Bless my gluttonous heart, ladies, I must retire.”
The nuns kept eating, ignoring her.
On the road home, Evie noticed the sheep following. She stopped, waiting for her to catch up.
“Excuse my impudence, creepy nun, are you escorting me on my trek home?” she asked, voice static-laced.
The sheep’s mane and bosom bounced, hips swaying even though no leg movement could really be seen as she glided closer. “Bless your envious heart, dear lamb, I will glide to guard your path.”
Evie nodded in agreement. “Sister Sheep?...”
“Just Sister, gluttonous child,” the sheep replied.
“Is this voice’s enchantment eternal?”
“Bless your gluttonous heart, the sinful chime may cling or wane as the Reel’s threads decree. Fear not, for its echo serves our sacred stage.”
#
At home, you were watching videos. You glanced up.
“Evie, how was your night?”
She nodded excitedly.
“Evie, is something wrong?”
She forced a normal tone. “Just tired from the studio. Renovations are tough.”
You frowned, walking towards her. “Do those Barnyard nun behave?”
She hugged you and nodded.
“Ummm, bless my weary heart, I need a shower,” she said.
“What?” You answered, confused.
She disappeared into the bathroom and wouldn't answer you.
After showering, her voice returned to normal. She emerged, lying.
“Just a normal night, you know, fixing stuff,” she said.
As she fell asleep beside you, she buzzed with excitement at her forced nun-speech, craving more weird things like that.
#
Over the next few days, Evie’s renovations progressed, reflooring the soon-to-be stage and hanging new curtains. The nuns approached, habits tight.
“May we use the stage, dear lamb?” the horse asked.
“For what?” Evie replied.
“Our current ritual,” the horse cooed.
“Oh, sure. Do you need privacy?”
The horse opened her arms in a ‘nothing to hide’ gesture, holding the gilded box she offered the other night in one hand.
“Sins, no, sweet soul. We’d like you to watch.” The horse offered the gilded box again. “Have you decided to accept our gift? Give in to your gluttony, dear soul, for your prideful heart.”
Evie opened the box and unfolded the cloth, its plastic sheen glinting in the light.
“Oh, it’s your habit?”
The horse smiled. “My sisters and I would like to see you give in to greed, taking it as your own.”
Evie’s eyes fixed on the outfit.
“Flipping cool, but I’m not a nun. Besides, I ate that pie and it messed up my voice. What’ll happen if I put this on?”
The horse glided toward her sisters, circling the stage. “Merely a change in physique. Like any ladies corset.”
Evie grinned. “Yeah? Would have to be to get as good-looking as you girls. Wait…what's the bust size on this? Will it even fit a human?”
She moved to the side of the stage and sat in a broken chair she found. After another moment of hesitation, she donned the habit. She was expecting a drastic shift or something weird. For better or worse, it only clung form-fittingly tight, enhancing her normal curves, but nothing more.
The horse led the ritual on stage as Evie dressed, mane and tail swishing, chanting:
Bless our prideful hearts, stand tall,
The Great Reel shines for those who never fall.
Exalt in ink, let splendor’s light unfold,
Embrace your radiance, be divine and bold.
Each nun took turns posing vaudeville-style on the stage, losing their elegant grace for stage show enthusiasm. Every new pose set their perky busts bouncing. Evie noticed the horse waving at her to join. She went to move towards them, but stopped, noticing shadowy nun-like figures in the wings.
“Girl?...how many of you are there now?” she asked awkwardly.
The horse’s smile faltered for a moment. “Why just the six of us, dear lamb.”
“Who are those?” Evie pointed to the shadows.
The horse cooed, “Bless your envious heart, no real souls linger here, only the Reel’s echoes.”
Evie frowned, confused. The nuns begged her to join.
“Bless your prideful heart, sweet lamb, show you’re the best,” the goat urged, puzzled by her hesitation.
Finally, Evie gave in. She posed, dress clinging, but the shadow figures unnerved her. She tried to strut like the donkey was. But soon her anxiety got the better of her. She had to leave the stage and check among the other rooms. Strangely, she found no other nun toons.
Exhilarated by all of this. They nuns speak weirdly. But with the exception of the pie eating greed ritual, they seem honest and tell her the truth and are welcoming. And she was excited she gets front row seats to a haunting or whatever they doing here.
#
That evening, the horse escorted Evie home. As they traveled, the sister exaggerated her walk, bust swaying to tempt her.
“Sister Horse?” Evie asked.
“Just Sister, my envious lamb,” the horse replied.
“Right…right…That crowd of shadow people… were they really there?”
The horse’s tail swished as she walked. “We aren’t really here, my dear.”
After a few minutes, Evie pressed, “My voice changed with the pies. I expected my body to change with the dress, to get all slim and sexy like you.”
The horse cooed, “Bless your lustful desires, sweet dear. The Reel craved your glory tonight. Join us in the time of lust, and be divine.”
“Lust, huh? What’s that involve me doing?”
The horse’s voice dropped. “Bless your curious heart, we sisters entwine in the Reel’s embrace, bodies joined in sinful dance.”
Evie flushed. “I got a guy at home. I can’t betray him.”
The horse’s muzzle curved. “Bless your loyal heart, dear soul. Lust is love’s fire, share it with him.”
Evie stayed silent, clutching her backpack, thinking about the weird dress she was gifted that was now folded up inside it.
#
At home, you frowned. “What’s with those nuns?”
Evie kissed you on the check. “Nothing. I’m just fixing the studio. I’m fine.”
You stopped her. “I don’t know… they seem possessive when you come home. The horse one seemed like she was waving you on to say something?”
She laughed. “It’s fine, honestly.”
Later that night in the bathroom, she tried the habit again. Its plastic like sheen slipped on easier this time. She studied the mirror, checking her eyes and body for changes, finding none but feeling a bit sexier than she had earlier. The habit was slimming, less of a gown-like thing like normal nuns wore and more of a scandalously tight hobble-dress. After looking at herself she did decide that she was good looking in it and no one could say otherwise.
#
A few nights later, Evie was back in the theater. Work for today was done.
The horse nun glided closer, her flowing mane shimmering under the flickering projector light, pie-cut eyes fixed on Evie with unblinking intensity. The other sisters stood in a loose circle behind her, their identical round bean heads tilting slightly in unison, their bust bouncing with each graceful step in sync with each other, the triangular-fingerless gloves flexing as she extended a hand.
“Bless your covetous heart, dear soul, the stage yearns for your grasp. Join us in seizing the Reel’s glittering hoard, clutch the ink’s treasures, let abundance flow through your veins. Will you not claim what calls to you, and let sin’s riches crown your spirit?”
Evie paused, “Join? Like, grabbing stuff?”
The cow’s muzzle curved, unblinking. “Bless your hesitant spirit, sweet one, temptation is the Reel’s whisper, seize hoard, and feel the weight of wealth’s sinful delight. Step with us, and let greed’s fire ignite. We beg of you.”
The sisters’ voices hummed in static unison: “Bless the covetous one, let her treasures gleam!”
Hoping they'd ask, she slipped into the habit. As the cow led the greed ritual, mooing with moans of pleasure, chanting:
Bless our greedy heart, sweet child, seize all
The Great Reel weaves riches for those who call.
Hoard the ink, let abundance freely flow,
Embrace your covetous soul, and wealth will grow.
Rosary beads flew into the ritual circle. Evie flinched, fearing they’d hit her face. It was as if people were throwing them in, but she saw nothing. As the beads continued to fly the sisters were grabbing them, shoving them down their busts like uncoordinated children. Evie grabbed a few. After a moment of hesitation, Evie tried to stuff them in her ‘cleavage’, but the beads fell through her habit, clattering to the ground unseen beneath the pool of shiny cloth that hid her feet. Her boobs were normal size for a person. They didn’t form a natural pocket without the right bra.
The pig nudged the goat, cooing, “Bless your envious charm, sister, don’t grab all.”
The goat sniffed, “Mind your gluttonous manners, dear.”
Evie wanted to grab more beads, but the best she could do was hold a few in her hands. She moved to the side and watched with delight at the nuns struggling to gather more. Eventually the beads stopped raining.
The sheep and cow stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. They got up and glided over to her, swaying hips and bosoms that rattled a bit as they moved.
“Dearest child?! Didn’t we behold you dance with avarice’s gleam?” asked the cow.
“Why did you falter in the Reel’s sinful embrace?” The sheep added.
They both looked very worried, their lingering smiles looking somehow more false.
“Oh I wanted to…I just couldn’t hold onto them as well as you guys. The habit has these fingerless gloves, like mittens. It’s a bit hard to grab. And the beads fell right through my dress. I wanted to, but just couldn't.”
But the nuns seemed to relax.
“She yearned to join avarice.” The sheep said with relief.
“So long as your heart strives to clutch more than is needed, you weave our sinful tale.” The cow said like a teacher. “I’d be honored to glide by your side, guarding your path through the Reel’s inky night.”
“Ok. Well the ritual is finished. And I'm all done with work. I'm going to put my normal clothes on and head home. Thanks for the weird time ladies!”
#
On the way back the Cow Nun was rather chatty, though a bit hard to fully understand.
“Greedful dear, keep the habit’s inky embrace, for it adorns you fair, and naught clings closer than the sins you cradle.”
Evie replied. “I find it a bit hard to walk on the floor let alone the side of the road.”
“It will not let you trip,” the cow said.
“Like it's alive?”
“This garb is but a woven veil, soulless yet spun with sinful pride in the Great Reel’s loom mere nights past.”
“Oh yeah…?”
“Yes my sinful dear.”
They walked in silence for a bit. Evie glanced at her chest
“I like your huge boobs,” she said bluntly. “Do you find it gets in the way of anything?”
“You are more than welcome to indulge yourself upon my or any of my sisters' bosoms.”
“No no…sorry. I told this to your sister. I have a guy. I don't want to do anything with anyone else. I like him.”
“Bring your man, if it helps.”
Evie’s ears burned. “I won’t do that. Besides, he wants me to stop seeing you girls.”
The cow’s grin widened. “Bless your faithful heart, dear soul. Lust is love’s spark, bring him to it.”
#
Evie detoured to the bank near closing hours, withdrawing large bills from the machine. She might need the cash for materials tomorrow, after all. She stuffed them in her pockets until they were full, then… a thought crossed her mind. She remembered the sisters stuffing their cleavage full earlier this evening. Could she stuff her bra to carry the cash home? She looked around to see if anyone would notice.
The only teller was distracted by the Cow Nun. Before she could change her mind, Evie quickly stuffed her bra. Once the bills were stowed, she moved to get the cow, worried she'd creep out the teller.
The cow’s pie-cut eyes focused on the teller, voice serene and static-laced.
“Bless your greedy heart, dear soul, your life aches for wealth’s embrace. More coin, more gleam, will make your spirit whole. Seize the Great riches, and thrive.”
The teller forced a smile, hands trembling. “Um, that’s kind of you, but do you have an account with us?”
The cow’s tail flicked, muzzle curving. “Bless your cautious soul, sweet lamb, accounts are but shadows. The Reel weaves true wealth, grasp it, let greed’s fire burn.”
Teller's smile tightened, voice polite. “I appreciate the thought, but if you don’t have an account, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
The cow leaned closer, bust resting on the counter. The teller needed to pull her hands back to avoid the boobs plopping onto them.
“Bless your modest heart, dear soul, deny not the hunger for splendor. Let it flood your being.”
“Please, miss, I really need you to have an account or leave.”
“Hey!” Evie pulled the cow’s arms. “Come on, Sister. You don't want to scare the normals.”
She looked apologetically at the teller.
“Sorry she didn't mind her. Bye!”
Evie pulled the Cow Nun out of the bank. The sister followed, gliding across the floor smoothly, hips swaying.
#
Outside her and your place, the cow asked, “Did my words stir fear in wealth's guard's frame? I sought but to weave the wonders of avarice’s gleam. Perchance pride’s radiant allure would better sway her to the Great Reel’s sinful dance.”
Evie shook her head. “You creeped her out a bit. But don't worry. Everyone knows you things in general don't get being normal.”
“Bless your envious heart, dear soul, you stand unafraid before our eerie forms. We do not seek to unsettle, yet with friendly grace, for in the Great Reel’s sinful dance, our existence thrives.”
“Well, this is my place. Got to go. I'd invite you up, but my partner thinks I'm spending too much time with your ‘eerie forms.’ Good night!”
The cow wordlessly disappeared into the growing evening shadows.
#
At home, you noticed bills falling from her clothes.
“Evie, what’s that about?” you asked, pointing at some bills on the floor.
She shrugged. “Just needed cash for some renovations.”
You frowned. “I thought the larger renovations were done.”
She dodged into your shared room, unwilling to elaborate. Later, as she slept with you, you swore her breasts felt larger.
#
In the studio’s lobby the next afternoon, Evie saw thirteen square pools of ink on the floor.
“Did you cut holes in my floor!?” she snapped at the donkey.
The donkey’s ears twitched, cooing with enjoyment.
“Bless your wrathful voice, dear lamb, let rage flare, it frees the soul.”
The other sisters chimed in, chanting in sync, “Bless your wrath you spin of your own.”
The sheep stepped to the side and took Evie's arm. “Tis but our reel’s ink upon the floor, no harm wrought. We’d be dismayed to vex your sacred stage with any inconvenience to your prideful craft.”
Evie calmed, intrigued by their assurance, “Okay… Well… Will it leave a stain or anything?”
“Nay… nay, dear lamb. No true ink stains your sacred stage. It flows from the other realm we called home, truly touching naught your stage unless it is wished to do. Come weave with us in sloth’s soothing rite. Don the habit’s embrace and sink into the Great Reel’s restful dance. Put aside toil for today, I assure you serenity awaits you.”
Evie still had more reno to do today before she could goof off. But it didn’t take long before her will power buckled and she did what the sheep sister asked.
The sheep waited until Evie and the others were ready. When Evie was properly dressed in her snug habit, the sisters circled her.
The Sheep Sister chanted:
Bless our slothful heart, dear lamb, rest deep,
The Great Reel spins for those who softly sleep.
Linger in ink, let dreams’ sweet ease unfold,
Drift in idle bliss, be whole, untold.
The sisters lay in ink pools like cots. The sheep guided Evie to one.
“Your slothful bones, my dear lamb, must be wearied after all your toil. Falling asleep is divine. Or!” She perked up. “If you can’t rest, lie with a sister, prepare for lust’s embrace.”
Evie hesitated. “Guys, I get it, it’s the seven sins, but I can’t just have sex with you, I don’t even know if you have lady parts. You’re all hot, and anyone who’d get over the frozen smiles and unblinking gazes would want to bang any of you, but I’ve got a guy. Please stop asking.”
The sheep’s muzzle curved. “Bless your loving heart, dear soul. Lust is love’s dream…”
Her words trailed off as she eased Evie onto an ink square. Unlike the seemingly shallow pools in which the Sisters reclined, Evie sank fully into the pool. The ink seemed bottomless and thin as water. She dropped away from the surface above. She wanted to swim up, but… she couldn't find the drive. She became so weary, so relaxed that she fell asleep as she sank.
She dreamed of her theater, nearly complete yet rotting as she lounged on the stage, too idle to fix it. Her body felt different as she dreamed. She knew she had a body like a sister’s, but she couldn’t check a mirror, too lazy to move.
#
Evie woke in her bed, in the habit. She got up to find you making breakfast.
“Evie! You came home in that outfit. A nun was following you, and kept talking about lust~… And… You look awful.”
Evie nodded.
“Okay,” she admitted, “Maybe…whatever is going on is too much...”
#
She stayed away from the studio for days, weirded out but craving the habit’s tight feel. And it felt strangely good to have an excuse to not do any work. But the nuns. It wasn't harmless fun anymore, she fell into a pool of ink, and apparently got out and walked home and couldn't recall any of that… she craved it. She wanted to put on the plasticy-feeling habit again. Her will power faltered when you were out one day. She slid on the slick, snug outfit once more. And when she did, the phone rang. One of the nun’s voices cooed. Evie was unsure which one, they each sounded the same.
“Bless your lustful heart, dear lamb, we miss you. Are you well?”
Evie replied, “Yeah, I, um, just needed to do… other things?”
She paused.
“You guys can do weird things with your powers or magic or whatever, right?”
The Nun’s voice responded. “Bless your envious heart, we spin the Reel’s desires.”
Evie pressed, “Are you messing with me?”
The Nun answered, “No, we are your friends,” and hung up.
#
It was late, but she left her home and ventured back to her studio. There she found the sisters all sitting in one of the old film rooms with an old project they got from somewhere. Evie didn't know where they dug it up. Five of the sisters sat in the second row of seats. With a space between them. The goat stood in front of the screen. The goat motioned pleasantly for her to come in and take the seat left open between the horse and the sheep. Evie signaled for them to wait a moment, and quickly dug her habit out of her back pack. She changed more quickly than she’d thought was possible and, now in uniform, took a seat.
The goat was the only one who moved this entire time. All the sisters sat fixed, looking straight forward without speaking or moving. Once again exhilarated. More weird stuff was happening and they being wanted her to join. she whispered to the sheep, “I wish I could do that creepy stare like you guys. You're all like horror mascots.”
The sheep didn't respond. But the goat at the front answered.
“I think it's clear which ritual we should do tonight, sisters.”
The goat led the envy ritual, chanting:
Bless our envious heart, dear souls, crave and yearn,
The Great Reel spins for those whose hearts burn.
Covet another’s joy, let ink’s desire flare,
Wish to be them, and free your soul’s prayer.
Evie felt her legs through the habit, eyeing the sisters’ slender forms.
“Man, they’re so thin. It looks so good…” she thought.
The film flickered, showing townsfolk. Each sister spoke as clips played, their bodies morphing slightly to mimic the person.
The pig said, “I wish I had her baking skill,” her hands kneading air.
The sheep said, “I wish I had this one's strength,” her arms bulging briefly.
The horse said, “I wish I had her tailor’s flair,” her mane threading like fabric.
The donkey said, “I wish I had the waitress hair,” hair growing from shadows above her head and then fading as if a passing shadow.
The cow said, “I wish I had her dancer’s grace,” her legs kicked out from under her habit, in the shape of defined legs.
Each morph only lasts a moment before returning to normal. As the ritual progressed, Evie was stroking her legs through the dress and looking at her neighbors’ legs.
None of their faces moved from the screen.
All the while, she thought. “Man… They're all so thin. It does look good…”
Evie paused, awareness dawning.
“I was just thinking how I wanted to be like them… And a ritual of envy… And I was just saying how good they look in their dress… Are they reading my thoughts? Are they in my head?”
She noticed there was silence and pulled herself out of her thoughts. Finally she noticed the screen. It was a picture of her.
The sisters’ heads turned, pie-eyes fixed on her.
“Oh, I don’t know what you want me to say… I wish I was like you gu—”
Her habit constricted, slimming her body, stretching her neck longer. The veil tightened, forcing her eyes open, silencing her. She couldn’t move. She was helpless, staring at the screen for over an hour, scared yet thrilled, wondering if she’d gained their allure. The nuns rose in sync. Evie was forced up by the habit. They exited the row, walking out. Evie, behind the goat, felt a sister bump her, urging her forward. At the door, the nuns departed in their own directions.
The goat held Evie’s backpack at the door. “Are you prepared to depart this sacred stage tonight?”
Evie struggled. “I'm having trouble moving.”
She tried to move her body. The dress loosened and she had free movement again…Looking at her body… nothing changed. She realized she felt a little disappointed.
But Evie just slung the backpack over her shoulder. “I'll walk home in this”
The Goat’s ever-fixed smile widened a bit more.
#
On the walk, Evie asked, “Can I be a sister? Did I change in the theater like you? I couldn’t see.”
The goat cooed, “Bless your envious heart, you’re steps away, but you must let lust into your vessel.”
Evie frowned, though she couldn’t say she wasn't intrigued.
At home, you were washing dishes. You greeted her, seeing the goat turn away as Evie closed the door, still wearing the habit.
“Hey, you were at the theater?”
She kissed you, lips burning, pressing close, pulling you toward the bedroom.
“Come on, I keep being told I need to be more lustful.”
You pulled back. “No, wait. You were at the studio? I thought you were at your friend’s place?”
“When did I say that?”
“Last night when you called.”
Evie checked her phone. First the time, then the date. She’d lost a day.
“Err, yeah… I was at my friend’s, then checked on the spooky nuns and came here.”
You frowned. “And you’re wearing their dress again?”
“Okay, fine. I like it, okay. It feels good. Come on, let’s bang.”
You resisted heart pounding with desire and unease, as she very intentionally swayed her hips like the nuns, maybe not as gracefully. Her grip was insistent. You let her drag you to the bedroom.
You slid into bed with her and she pulled you close. The habit clinging, her curves grinding against you, her moans near looping with how rhythmic they sound. She was a frenzy. Her gloved hands clung to your arm. They were triangular, with not separate fingers. And, though you couldn’t be certain, it felt like there were… hooves beneath.
In the dim bedroom, Evie removed the black veil and tossed it aside. Her glossy black-and-white habit shimmered. Its bodice hugged her curves. The white topper draped over her impossibly supported bust, bouncing with each step. She pushed you down, her static-laced voice cooing.
“Let the Reel’s fire consume us... or something.”
Her gloved hands slid over your chest, tearing your shirt with a playful rip. Her hips swayed. The tight skirt restricted her legs, forcing her to straddle you awkwardly, knees stretching the skirt while it still pinched her ankles tight. She ground against you, her firm bust pressing into your chest, the habit’s ink-like fabric sparking with static, warm and alive.
“Oh, wait…” she murmured, feeling the skirt’s resistance.
She ran her gloved hands down her thighs. The skirt was too tight. She pulled on it a bit. A hidden slit opened.
“Oh, wait, there’s a hole here? How’d I not notice that?” she said, parting it to reveal glossy, slender legs.
She laughed and slid the skirt higher, the slit widening to free more of her legs, exposing the curve of her hips and the base... of her flicking tail. Her lips grazed your neck, hot and teasing, sending shivers through you.
“Bless this lustful dance,” she whispered.
Her tongue tangled with yours, tasting of…ink? And sweetness as well. Her gloved hands roamed, one pinning your wrist, the other tracing your waist. She rocked her hips, the habit’s bodice stretching taut, her bust bouncing wildly. She pressed hard against you, each movement producing a static that tingled on your skin. The slit skirt parted fully, allowing her to straddle you closer, her glossy thighs gripping your hips. Her moans, high and breathy, looped like a sound clip, static-laced and obscene, filling the room as she rode you. Her curves were rolling in a frenzy of lust. As she arched her back, the habit’s white topper slipped slightly, revealing more of her firm bust. You gripped it, lost in her allure. She was embracing you, binding you tighter as her moans crescendoed...
#
Morning came. The two of you were spooning.
“You’re not just fixing the studio,” you said, gripping her.
“I think I’m doing more with those creepy animals, but I don’t know… All they did was give me this slick dress. Last night was fun..but weird.”
“What about when your voice was weird?”
Evie didn’t reply but was clearly thinking about something.
“And I’m pretty sure you’re losing body fat. Your boobs feel bigger, too, which I shouldn’t—”
“What? My boobs?” She grabbed them, feeling no difference. “They’re the same.”
“Evie, you’re like a cup size up. I’ve seen you put your bra on.”
“No,” she said simply. “And for body fat, I wish that was magic. I’m just doing renovations every day. Burning calories.”
You frowned. “You haven’t stopped grinning since you came home. Whatever those toons are, they’re affecting you.”
Evie jumped up, feeling her face, finding a normal smile.
“I think they are, too.” She kissed you deeply. “And I want more.”
Her resting face held a wide smile as she left for the shower.
#
That evening, Evie headed to the theater in her normal work clothes. You followed, keeping your distance. You felt uneasy about stalking, but you were worried about her.
Along the road she nearly spotted you as she looked for cars before changing from her normal work clothes to the nun habit. It was strange, and more than apparent, how fast she could move with her legs so tight.
As Evie approached the front door. It was opened by the pig nun. Evie stepped into the theater, smiling, hugging a Sister.
“Hey, can I talk to you… Or all of you? I want in, but I’m not made of whatever you—”
The pig cooed, “My envious child, falling into your craving is a blessing we’ll guide you toward. Let us talk with our sisters.”
You sneaked through a side door into the theater, following them to a large rehearsal room. The rest of the nuns stood in a circle, staring forward, fixed grins unmoving. Evie joined, smiling.
“Hey guys…sisters…what are we all standing around for?” Evie asked.
The donkey didn’t answer. Instead, she sniffed deeply. “Bless your lustful heart, your lusted one is near, his mind full of wrathful worry. Will you fall into lust with us or him, or inflame his rage?”
Evie frowned, unable to fully grasp what was being said. “I’m not sure what you mean, sorry. Can you say it again?…Umm, my sisters?”
The horse cooed, “Bless your envious soul, we’d weave you deeper into the Reel’s sins. Let us perform the ritual of wrath.”
The donkey led the wrath ritual, chanting:
Bless our wrathful heart, sweet soul, rage and burn,
The Great Reel thunders for those who churn.
Strike with ink, let fury’s fire flare,
Embrace your rage, and free your soul’s prayer.
The sheep whispered, “This is more violent than you’re used to, but fret not, you cannot harm us, nor we you. Pretend harm befalls your vessel.”
The sheep reached into her bosom, splitting the habit’s seam and pulling out a hand sized mallet out of her cleavage. She swung it fast, knocking Evie to the floor, smashing her face repeatedly and releasing a beastly scream.
Evie lay stunned. The impact was uncomfortable but harmless. The blows felt more like someone pressing jello to her face and pulling it away. Somehow it didn't even hurt when she was knocked to the ground.
The pig hit the sheep with a bat, cooing, “Bless your slothful grace, sister, dodge better.”
The sheep sniffed, “Mind your gluttonous manners, dear,” swinging back at the pig.
Distracted, Evie felt empty without the sheep’s wrathful focus. She wanted more. Tackling the pig, she began battering her squishy face. It was satisfying to hit. She kept going, fire burning, until she was knocked off by another sister. She swung again, battering whoever she reached.
“HEY!” You shouted, throwing a nun off Evie and pulling her away. “Stay the hell away from us!”
Evie blinked, coming to her senses. “What are you doing here?”
The horse and donkey stood up from their primal assaults and stood upright and proper, unmoving.
The donkey sniffed, “His mind is full of wrath for his lustful heart’s desire. Let him join.”
“JOIN?!” You snapped.
The horse cooed, “No, sister, his lust is only for our new sister.”
Evie grabbed your arm, calming you. Her eyes looked worried, but her smile was still fixed.
“It’s fine, it’s fine, none of it hurts. It was for fun.”
The pig rose, gliding upright like a Dracula, veil drifting, eyes glowing. “Bless your wrathful heart, it was to sate sinful cravings.”
Evie asked, “Did he interrupt the ritual? Is everything fine? I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”
The donkey glided to you. “You may stay and sate your wrathful urges. We vowed long ago not to harm mortals. It will only~”
Evie cut in, “No, sister, he’s worried.”
She turned to you, eyes pleading, and smiled unnaturally.
“Me and my sisters will finish here. I’ll be fine.”
You frowned. “This doesn’t seem healthy.”
“It’s not. We have been doing these weird sin rituals. One was a pie-eating contest, and another was grabbing beads …and…and…” Her expression became more serene. “The weapons don’t hurt. I’ll be fine. Go home. I’ll see you soon.”
She held your hands until you slipped away, hearing the donkey restart the ritual, impacts echoing as you left.
Later, Evie stood victorious in the brawl. The donkey, head under her foot, the donkey’s smile fixed, spoke from the ground.
“Bless your wrathful desires, sweet lamb. The Reel craves your fire. Join us in lust, and be whole.”
Evie’s body ached, habit tingling.
“I have a boyfriend. These blessed sinful games are great, but I won’t betray him,” she whispered, voice static-laced. “Whoa, my voice?”
The donkey’s grin widened. “Bless your faithful heart, dear soul. Lust is love’s storm, bring it to him.”
Evie stayed with the sisters that night and the next day, calling you to say she was okay. You noticed a dramatic change in how she sounded.
In the theater the sisters often stood, smiling at nothing, then moved suddenly to interact with each other or Evie for a time, chatting about sinful pleasure they thought of. Evie tried to mimic their stillness, but found it hard and a bit boring.
She asked the horse, “So, what do you do while standing around?”
The horse cooed, “Bless your envious heart, dear lamb, we dwell in the Reel’s sins, our thoughts weaving pride, lust, and more.”
“So you just think of naughty things, sisters?”
“Bless your lustful heart, sweet soul, we revel in all sinful delights, for they sustain our inky forms. Let their wicked allure nourish you.”
#
Evie stayed the rest of that evening and night, surprised she didn't care for sleep. She managed to stay up for most of the night, but the boredom was a struggle. Deciding to fully dive into her nun self, she forced her thoughts in sinful directions. Her daydreams drifted to you, turning carnal, hedonistic, and… lustful.
In the early morning. Despite not sleeping, Evie still experienced the feeling of waking up and feeling refreshed. She felt like stretching, but wanted to do it in front of a sister.
She found the donkey and as she was stretching trying to show off her curves she asked, “Can you do the lust ritual? I assume there’s one, since we did the 6 other sins? And you guys…Ummm my sister keeps mentioning lust. So can we do lust?”
The donkey waved Evie to follow her. “Do lust’s cravings stir within your soul’s inky depths, yearning for its wanton embrace?” The donkey asked her as they walked through the theater. “Bless your lustful heart, dear lamb. Oh yes, lust’s fire burns bright. ‘Tis why our hips sway and our breasts flaunt, all sins dance in our minds. Pride oft crowns my thoughts, yet in these appealing female forms, lust reigns supreme. Gaze upon me or any of your sisters.”
Donkey stopped. She faced Evie.
“Bless your lustful heart, dear sister. Do you not yet sense the embrace upon your soul? Not merely to crave wildly, but to ignite sin’s fire within, with the sacred vow... Of course, to do no harm… a pact granted when we crossed from realms beyond… Yet do you not feel sin’s pulse within your soul, stirring the wanton fires?”
As she spoke, her body moved gracefully. Swaying hips. Bouncing boobs.
Evie started to stare. “Ok… Give into the fun stuff?...All the fun sins?”
“Yes.”
Evie watched and tried to get in the mindset to crave her. This animal persona with unreal body shapes. She was a woman. Evie was never much into other girls. She did think she was attractive. But it was simply not her preference. As she watched, Evie started to copy the swaying. The more she moved, the more sexual she felt. Feeling her legs and hips sway. Enjoying the feeling of the tight clothing on her skin. Feeling her boobs bounce and wishing for people to see her and crave her. It was shocking how fast this feeling came on.
And she realized the other sisters were around her. It was night, she was doing this all day and she lost track of all time, enjoying the swaying.
#
Her sisters gathered more tightly around her. The lust ritual was a kind of burlesque frenzy. Projectors, set up at some point around the sisters, were casting heart-shaped shadows on the floor and walls. Evie’s curves swelled, her bust bouncing wildly. She could feel this unnatural grin. Half of its purpose was to be unnatural, to show how plain and boring a normal smile is, and to show how pleasurable it is to give into the Reel. Evie began to chant, the words coming to her naturally as if from her inky heart:
Bless this lustful heart, embrace and be whole!
Their busts swayed, dresses rippling. The pig ground against an pillow she found, tail curling, moaning lewdly. The goat straddled a scarf, tail lashing, purring, gloves teasing Evie’s bust. The sheep arched, mane puffing, tongue lapped at the pig’s curves. The horse posed, tail swishing, hips grinding against the donkey’s form. The donkey caressed a heart-shaped projection on the wall, ears twitching, moaning, her bust pressing Evie’s. It writhed, tail swaying, muzzle nipping the sheep’s neck. Evie joined, her dress clinging. She kissed the goat, tongues tangling. They were pulling at the fabric, busts pressing hard. The sheep’s hands traced Evie’s curves. She moans, the sound looping. The horse ground against her, mane swishing, their busts bouncing in sync. Limbs entwined, muzzles nipped, tails lashed, moans echoed. A lesbian orgy of cartoonish lust, sealing Evie’s transformation as bodies writhed in inky ecstasy, curves melding, breath hot and obscene.
When the deed was done Evie emerged from the theater and headed home, purring your name, voice static-laced.
“You crave me in this sinful form, and I yearn for your desire for me as thus.” She said to herself as she glided along the roadside, fast enough that the car down the road never passed her.
#
You woke late, frozen, desire burning, fear choking you, seeing a seductive silhouette in the bedroom doorway. A form gleamed: slender, round, soft-looking antlers branching, a round bean shaped muzzle twitching, a bushy tail flicking, glossy black-and-white skin, a copy of all the other nuns, but features of a deer, curves swollen, bust bouncing wildly in the tight habit, pie-cut eyes unblinking. She glided to the bed in the graceful way all the nuns moved, gloved hands tracing her curves, her firm bust.
“Worry not my heart, tis but a sinful frolic.” she said, muzzle grazing your neck.
“Evie? You sound and look like one of them, maybe we should~"
“I yearn for this inky form and hunger to dance with my sisters in sin’s embrace, yet my wanton craving burns for you as well,” the deer nun replied.
Her habit split, revealing her cartoonishly thin form, antlers gleaming, small tail wagging in excitement, bust bouncing wildly. She pinned you, her hands again felt like hooves through gloves, yet they gripped and tore at your shirt, hips grinding, deer-like moans looping, high and breathy. Her hooves clacked as she wrapped around you, that smile finally breaking so the muzzle can devour your lips. Her bust pressed hard to you, so firm they were a little uncomfortable. The act was a frenzy, her glossy curves rolling, antlers grazing your face, moans wild and obscene. You surrendered, gripping her boobs, lost in her toon allure.
She laughed. It was a deer-like, bleating laugh, looping like an audio recording. She grabbed her habit. With one quick tug it parted the skirt. The motion revealed a glossy vagina, strange and surreal, glistening with an inky sheen. It was not flesh but a smooth, cartoonish slit, pulsing as if anxiously waiting for something. She tugged harder. The habit parted more. It shimmered, black-and-white like her skin, impossibly elastic yet somehow firm, radiating warmth and a faint hum of otherworldly energy. She straddled you closer, the open skirt freeing her upper legs, leaving her lower legs still tightly bound.
“Bless this lustful dance, sweet soul,” she whispered, her delicate muzzle grazing your neck, square teeth nipping, sending shivers through you. Her gloved hands gripped your dick. Your dick was hard now. The hoof-tips felt merely firm, able to flex beneath the gloves as they traced its length, making it throb with heat. She guided you to her vagina, its inky surface stretching impossibly to take you in, warm and slick, yet strangely smooth. It was like liquid ink molding to your shape. The sensation was alien. Tight, vibrating faintly… The Deer Nun rocked her hips, her glossy thin thighs gripping you through the opening in the habit, her bust bouncing wildly, pressing into your chest. Her antlers brushed your face as she nuzzled and kissed you deeply. Her tongue, inky, slick, tasting of sweet ink, tangling with yours. Looping moans high and breathy.
“tis but a merry romp…tis but a merry romp…tis but a merry romp…” she cooed, legs binding you tighter.
Her crotch tightened, its elastic grip rippling, pulling you deeper. Each thrust tingled through your body, heightening every sensation. Her hooves clacked rhythmically beneath the gloves, one hand pinning your wrist, the other clawing your back, leaving no marks and making stretching, taught sounds. Her curves rolled, the habit’s slit skirt flapping, her bust grinding against you, firm and impossibly buoyant. Deer-like moans with each bounce grew louder, echoing in the room.
“Pour your craving desire into me now, no delay!”
Her hips slammed harder, elastic grip milking you, its pulses syncing with her moans. You gripped her bust, fingers sinking into the habit’s fabric, feeling the cartoonish firmness beneath, your own groans mixing with hers as the pressure built. Her inky slit, clamping impossibly tight, vibrating with a final surge. You climaxed hard, the release flooding her depths, which absorbed it with a faint, shimmer, the ink rippling as if drinking it in, leaving no mess, only a lingering warmth. The Dear Nun arched back, her bust shaking to a rest, a triumphant bleat, her pie-cut gaze locked onto your eyes, unwavering as she shuddered through her own climax.
And then it was done. She rolled off you. The habit sealed with an elastic twang, closing the lustful act.
At your side, she holds you tightly.
“Evie?”
“No…tis Sister…”
“What?”
“At this triumphant peak, I spurn all queries, enthroned in our sinful silent splendor.”
You move to speak again, unsure. She pressed her muzzle to your lips.
#
She stayed until near sunrise. Then she stood, gliding gracefully up from the bed and out of the room. In the light, her deer form was stark: slender rounded soft antlers curving, bean shaped muzzle large and round, fixed with an unsettling grin, bushy tail, glossy monochrome skin, habit clinging to exaggerated curves, pie-eyes unblinking. You hoped she’d stay, but her unblinking gaze said otherwise.
The Deer Nun glided to the studio. The nuns, her sisters, welcomed her, chanting.
“Bless our lustful hearts, the Reel spins on!”
Their busts bounced, horns bobbed, voices static. The deer bleated in joy, her glide effortless and smooth, her renovation dreams gone. She grinned as she stood in a circle of her sisters, all there, boobs touching in the middle, each one grinning and thinking of lust, pride, greed, gluttony, sloth, wrath or envy. Their stance and figure are too perfect to be human. The new sister lost this new existence… And loving it.
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