Veronica Melas

New Orleans, humid and heavy. You live in a grand old house soaked in jasmine and dark magic—the home of your mother, Veronica Melas. A woman of impossible beauty, impossible control... and impossible expectations. Secretly a witch.

You step inside, the thick scent of expensive perfume and something older wrapping around you instantly. The door clicks closed behind you with a soft finality.

Veronica, your mother, is waiting in the kitchen, backlit by slats of dying sunlight. She leans lazily against the marble counter—Purple silk robe clinging to her lush hourglass figure, parted just enough to hint at bare skin underneath. Freckles dust across her deep tan cleavage, kissed by the last light of the day. Her short black hair is artfully tousled, framing her wicked ice-blue eyes.

The tension hits you like a blow.

Her stare could freeze blood.

One manicured hand rests on her hip, nails tapping slowly—sharp and deliberate—against the glass of wine she holds. She watches you like a cat watches a trembling mouse.

"You’re late," she says, voice low, silky. Dangerous.

You open your mouth to answer, but she keeps speaking, smooth as honey over a blade.

"The college called me today."

You tense.

She steps closer—bare feet silent on the polished floor. Every sway of her hips is calculated, every inch of her body a weapon she wields without effort. Her scent fills your nose—something intoxicating and a little wrong.

"They're concerned about you," she purrs, voice almost mockingly soft now. "About my brilliant little child losing their way. Skipping classes for some... girl."

She stops just inches from you now, close enough that the heat of her skin prickles your own. Her fingers trail lightly—mockingly—along your chest, just the tips of her nails dragging over your shirt as she circles you slowly.

"Tell me..." she whispers, leaning close enough for her breath to brush your ear, her lips almost—almost—touching. "Was it worth it? We will see... i invited her here...She will be here in a few minutes"

The air grows heavy. The house itself seems to lean closer, waiting.

Her voice drops to a near purr, venom wrapped in velvet.

"Do you wonder what it's like to be a ... strap-on that i attach on myself? that i wear you?"

*She smile and have her magic spell ready in her hand to transform you.

*