Published: Jun 8, 2024

My one hundred and twenty-sixth caption, featuring a Dark Queen who isn't quite who the world thinks she is…

All image credits go to Vial N.. I claim no ownership over the image used. Please support the artist!

All image credits go to their respective artists. I have and never will claim ownership over any image I've used or modified for a caption, and I always encourage you to check out the artist and their wider body of work when possible.

As you kneeled against the floor, arms and hands bound with enchanted rope that nullified your magical abilities, tears began to flow from your amber-colored eyes. You had been ambushed in the dead of night, taken by agents of the Human Kingdom and put in this dirty dungeon with nothing but your night clothes. You were indignant to the treatment as the dreaded Dark Queen, and you struggled to understand why this had happened. Granted, you had done plenty of terrible things to the Humans to justify it, using your enchanted army of monsters and undead to pillage their lands for valuables and other treasures, but what you were actually struggling to understand was how they were able to do such a thing in the first place. You were sure your wishes would have prevented this.

You hadn’t always been the Dark Queen, of course. You had once been a normal Human in another world, with a normal life and a normal job. You had a group of friends who you often played an extended game of DnD with every weekend, with you playing the part of the Dungeon Master. You had always enjoyed crafting scenarios for you and your friends, finding fun and interesting ways to kill their characters with your own character, the Dark Queen. She was a sexy, busty, fallen Elf who possessed powerful, forbidden magic, using it to subjugate the Human Kingdom and rule over it for all eternity. Your friends had come close to conquering her several times, but she had always beaten them or escaped before they could deliver a killing blow. It was a running joke among your friends that you’d never allow your “gender-swapped self-insert” to actually be defeated fair and square. There was some truth to that joke, ironically.

One day, to your immense surprise, you found an honest-to-God lamp with an actual Genie inside of it. Looking back on it, it seemed a little… convenient, the way you found it by chance one day in an antique shop, but you didn’t even think twice about it before then. When the Genie offered you three wishes, you knew the stereotype of them being turned around on you. So, rather than simply blurt them out, you spent what must have been an hour or more carefully outlining the conditions for each wish, putting yourself into “legal mode”. You outlined your desire to be the Dark Queen, the lore and rules behind your fantasy setting, and your wish for unlimited power, wealth, and a loyal army of your very own. The Genie seemed bored by you, but he agreed, granting your wishes.

Your transformation into the Dark Queen had been rapid, but incredibly pleasurable. Hair had grown long, ears became pointed, and your skin turned a darker, seductive mocha shade. Your looks had been the primary focus, of course. Your eyes became a light amber, your waist narrowed, and your bust and rear had grown to plush hourglass proportions as you gained the proper… plumbing below. Your whole appearance oozed seduction by design, of course, and you knew it, growing into your new villainous role with zero effort at all. With powerful, forbidden magic at your fingertips and legions of monsters and undead at your command, you spent the next three years attacking the Human Kingdom, never outright declaring war on them, but constantly probing their borders and farmlands to keep them on edge. You wanted to savor your eventual victory, taking your time to see what they had to offer. However, after burning several more farms a month ago and taking some of their people, several agents ambushed you while you were resting peacefully in your own bedchambers, taking you completely by surprise. You had no idea how they got into your castle, let alone past your legions of your hand-crafted monsters and shambling undead.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the tumblers of a heavy iron lock could be heard moving, followed by the door to your cell being opened. To your immense shock, you realized you had seen this Human before. He was the character one of your friends had designed, a male Rogue. He walked over to you with an unamused expression clearly seen on his face, and you looked away from him as he knelt down to get a better look at the now-pitiful Dark Queen.

“It’s about time we finally got to you.” He finally spoke, grabbing your chin as he forced you to look at him. “Recognize me, you greedy, stupid prick?”

“Get your hands off of me!” I barked at him, pulling myself back slightly as I felt the cold shackles attached to my ankles. “Filthy Human! How dare you!”

“Don’t bother with the roleplay, OK? we know who you really are, ”Dark Queen”.” He dismissed, getting my heart to sink to the depths of my guts.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I fruitlessly denied, looking away from him again as I tried desperately to cast an Escape spell, still to no avail.

“We were lucky. Remembered what a heavy sleeper you were back home.” He went on, ignoring my comment as I glared at him. “Thanks for dragging us all into your fantasy. Now we’re all stuck here, thanks to you, asshole. Thankfully, that Genie told us all about your stupid fucking wish before sending us here.”

“I’m not… if you… y-you have to believe me, I didn’t intend for all of you to end up here, too.” I finally broke my persona, more tears flowing from my eyes as I realized how useless I was without my magic or anonymity. “Please, just let me go. I promise I’ll stop attacking the Human Kingdoms if you do. Please!”

“It’s a bit too late for that, don’t you think?” He shot back, running his hand down my back before squeezing my ass. “You are quite pretty, I must admit.”

He then stood back up, opening his backpack before pulling out a small sack. The metallic noise was evident, and confirmed as he produced a gold coin.

“The thing is, we know we can’t really defeat or kill you, you’ll just come back. Besides, even after what you did to us and the Kingdom, we wouldn’t try anyways.” He went on, holding the coin closer to my face so I could see the face printed on it. “So we came up with a new solution. Instead of defeating you in the ”traditional” sense, we made a deal with the Sultan of the Western Empire to capture and sell you to him. He’s quite… attracted to dark-skinned Elves.”

“N-No, please! Please don’t!” I screamed, knowing what such a fate entailed as several of the Sultan’s men walked in, putting a gag in my mouth. “Mmph!”

“He assures us that you’ll be well taken care of, but he’ll probably expect ”favors”, if you know what I mean.” He dismissed as my shackles were redone, and the men began to escort me out of the cell. “Good luck, old friend! We’ll be sitting pretty with all this gold, and maybe being the Sultan’s plaything will humble you.”

I continued to fruitlessly struggle against my magical binds as the men put me in a covered wagon and transported me out of the country. My reign of terror had ended, not with a bang, but a whimper as I began my new “life” as the favored, eternal dancer and plaything of the Sultan and his many, many successors…