"Get the speakers loaded on the bus, Roadie!"
You gritted your teeth at the screeching voice, but turned it into a kind of submissive grin as you nodded.
"Right away, Blood Queen," you responded to the plump vampire-bat anthro. She was short for an anthro, only 7-feet-tall. She had red eyes and her fur was completely white, except for her dyed-orange hair, the color of which, combined with its spiky style that stood straight in the air (thanks to several industrial-size cans of hairspray) made it look like her head was on fire. She wore a black, leather jacket with holes cut in the back for her massive wings to stick out, and long fangs.
Blood Queen, or BQ to her friends, or if you were going by her real-name--which, after a few choice death threats, you never did--Bonnie, was your mistress. Well, more accurately she was one of your mistresses. She and her mates in her amateur death metal band, the Killer Sirens, had pooled their funds together to buy a human slave to act as their roadie, and, unfortunately for you, you were the only one they chose. Blood Queen was the leader singer of the band, though with her high, screechy voice, you were sure you'd go deaf from her singing one day, not that you'd ever tell her that. As a mistress, she was a total tyrant, thinking your status as a slave meant you shouldn't have a moment of free time, and she would fill that time whether that meant you waiting on her on hand-and-foot or degrading yourself for her amusement. Giving her particularly rank feet a massage stood out in your mind. No task was too hard or too humiliating for you to perform in her mind. Refusal was met with harsh punishment.
As you struggled to load everything into the bus from their old house, one of your other mistresses looked up from the poetry book she was reading on the porch. Her name was Melancholy (real name: Melody), a full-figured, 10-foot-tall black cat anthro with sapphire-colored eyes. She wasn't exactly thin, but she wasn't exactly what you'd consider fat either. Voluptuous would probably be the appropriate term. She wore a purple, gothic dress and had long white hair. She was the organ player and provided back-up vocals. In fact, her voice was so much better than BQ's, you wondered why she wasn't the lead singer. But then again, death metal had never been your genre, especially not the quasi-goth/punk kind they did... That probably wasn't the actual name of the genre, you weren't up on the lingo, again, it had never been your preference and it's not like they'd give you time to look it up with your new mistresses working you ragged.
Melancholy seemed to be the nicest of your new mistresses, or, at least, the only one who didn't see the point in working you to death or treating you like garbage after paying good money for you.
"Why don't you help him, BQ?" Melancholy asked her band mate in her soothing voice. "He looks like he's going to die carrying all that wait."
You were grateful for the attempt at help, but BQ laughed her off.
"Doing the work yourself defeats the purpose of having a roadie, Mel! I'm not gonna waste my time with that, not when we're finally gonna make the big time playing gigs in the Dark Lands!"
You gulped at the name. The Dark Lands were said to be home to the creepiest, most depraved and evil anthros imaginable. While there were at least a couple laws that provided certain rights and protection to human slaves locally, in the Dark Lands there were no rules. And you, poor, doomed soul that you were, were going to be accompanying them to that terrible place as they took their act on the road. When you found out where you were heading you'd tried to make a break for it, only for Blood Queen to fly out, find you, and take you back to their house for some punishment. Melancholy had sat the punishment out and BQ said she was too tired from searching for you to do it herself, so she left the punishment to her two other band mates--
"Spike! Ob!" BQ called out, seeing her friends approach.
You heard the names, whirled around, and nearly dropped the speaker you were carrying in fear. At 13-feet-tall, the two anthro ladies were literal behemoths. Spike was a dragoness with crimson scales, two black horns protruded on both sides of her head, and her black hair was in a Mohawk. She was positively shredded, her muscles were displayed by a black shirt that was several sizes too small and with its sleeves ripped off, exposing her muscled arms and impressive six-pack. Her jeans were purposefully ripped at the knees. Spike was the guitarist of the group. She staggered as she walked, obviously drunk already. You gulped. Spike treated you like trash when she was drunk... she also did it while she was sober, but for some reason she was less creative in tortures then. Nearly every day since your purchase, she tormented or humiliated you in some way.
"You still not done, Roadie?" Spike slurred. "I wanted to be ready to hit the road by the time we got here!"
"I know," BQ said. "He's such a slacker."
Spike flashed a row of razor-sharp fangs. "Maybe I can light a fire under his ass?" She belched up a fireball that missed your feet by inches and set you working even harder. "There we go, that's what we're looking for. Ain't that right, Ob?"
Ob (short for Oubliette) only nodded, staring at you with her bulging yellow eyes, not helped by the excessive eye shadow she wore. Out of all of them, she scared you the most. She was a fox anthro who'd dyed all her fur a shade of neon green except for her white underbelly, and her black hair with streaks of violet. She wore a black top with a skull and crossbones on it, but it was stretched so tight across her chest, you were amazed it didn't snap under the pressure of her ample bosom. It also exposed an ample amount of cleavage. She wore a plaid, red and black skirt with fishnet stockings. While BQ was fairly chunky, Ob was completely obese. Her broad stomach was almost a perfect sphere, and it was so expansive it could easily fit three of you in there. She was the drummer of the group, and every time you saw her, she was always stuffing food past her black-painted lips, seemingly pulled from nowhere.
That was what terrified you most about her: her appetite. Sure she would participate in the humiliations BQ and Spike dished out on you, but it was the constant growling of her stomach whenever you were near that scared you beyond reason. She'd never spoken a word to you, but she always seemed to pop up behind you without a sound, looking at you as if you were the last slice of pizza she wanted to snatch up before someone else did. That look was still there when she saw you now.
Between Blood Queen's tyrannical orders, Spike's cruel pranks, and Oubliette's insatiable hunger, you dreaded the prospect of accompanying them to the Dark Lands, where your fate would be in their hands. Maybe Melancholy would be enough of a calming influence... but some you doubted it. You looked wistfully down the road, imagining making another break for it, but you knew it would be pointless. Soon the bus was loaded up and your mistresses were ready to go. Head hung low, you boarded the bus that would most likely spell your doom.
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