[Brainstorming] Diadem of the Bitch

[Obscure]

Diadem of the Bitch​

A magic headband that activates when placed on the head of a human corpse. It animates the corpse as an undead, preserves the corpse and possesses it with the soul of a hellhound.
The animated corpse's eyes (or sockets) glow with infernal red flame.
She understands common and infernal. She has skills suitable to hiding, stalking and skulking.
The hellhound prefers corpses that are female, pretty and fresh. She will need help to remove her from her current body and place her on the prospective new body.
As the animated body is undead she can be neutralized by turning and takes damage from holy water, but she does not need to eat, drink or breath.
She is not especially smart and she often fails to spot changes in the social mood around her.
By inflicting permanent damage to the body she can increase her speed and agility for a short time allowing her to run and jump.
She can also use her hellhound's fiery breath weapon. Though it will also damage her body.
Such injuries cannot be healed and are accompanied by the smell of cooked pork.
Vastly less dangerous then the Diadem of the Slut or the Diadem of the Lady as it lacks the telepathy, high intelligence and spell-like abilities of those items.
"Is that corpse your sister? Wow, that sucks. Can you put me on her? She's cute."

Now the Diadem of the Bitch requires a willing associate, but she lacks the tools to securely entrap one. This normally puts her into a servile role.
Not that she wouldn't happily murder your childhood friend for her body, but she has been around the block enough times to know that doesn't always go her way.
So she will usually ask first.
She tends to relax and enjoy her time when she finds an associate who values her sexually. This normally results in her taking a partnership or sometimes even master role.
So she will make the availability of her cold dead body known.
She is afraid of being lost once more in the dirt at the roadside or in a chest forgotten for decades.

Now in a porn game... This results in a lot of corpse fucking. A lot of fresh new faces with that familiar grin.
The occasional suspicious "I just happened to find this girl here, who has been conveniently stabbed to death, so could you put me on her? I'll suck your dick and stuff."
I assume the middle is about evading the attention of a holy order out to stop your rampage of infernal corpse romance.
The end would be a standoff with a superior Diadem.

 

[Obscure]

“Welcome back!”

“Clair! You're up?”

“I woke up this morning feeling so much better, I guess I got over whatever that was.” She said unconvincingly.

Jake stepped forward and hugged his sister.

She kissed him. Her tongue darting into his mouth.

He stumbled back. She was already worrying at his breaches.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” she grinned at him.

“You're my sister.”

“Oh.” She stopped unlacing his breeches for a moment.

Her hand purposely gripped at his semi-hard member.

“You wanna fuck your sister?” The grin was back as she redoubled her efforts.

“Stop this!”

“You wanna fuck your sister in her tight little cunt, don't you?”

Again she kissed him. Again her tongue darted into his mouth. He was getting swept along.

He hands gripped at her back and pulled her closer...

Clair hadn't recovered. He felt no vitality, no vibrancy beneath his fingers. Her flesh was even colder then it had been last night.

This couldn't be his sister. He already knew that. She would never say or do such things.

He pushed the not-Clair back and looked at her.

“What's the matter, brother?” Her words were achingly unconvincing. Her grin spoke of excitement and malice.

“Who are you?”

“I'm your sister!” she lied.

“What is your name?”

“It was... Uh... Clara! My name is Clara.”

“It was Clair.”

“I was so close! You gonna fuck your sister or not?”

“No!”

“You live alone in a cabin in the woods with your sister and you aren't fucking her?”

“No.”

“It's just my opinion but she's pretty and you should.”

“No.”

“At this point, why not?”

“Because you're my sister.”

“But, I'm not your sister.”

“It's her body.”

“She's not using it anymore.”

“What?”

She stripped off her dress. She stood before him naked of everything save the diadem. Her body wasted from her illness but still bearing echoes of prior beauty.

She made no move to cover herself out of modesty or to shield herself from the chill. Her body which once trembled at the slightest breeze was still.

“This is what your sister's dead body looks like. Stick your dick into it. It can't hurt her anymore.”

“No...”

His eyes blurred with tears.

Arms held him. Not kind or cruel but helpful. They helped him sit down at the table and out of his pants.

Wiping away his tears, looked down at the face of his dead sister sucking his dick. Her eyes gleamed red.

A scream struggled to escape his throat. A sudden impulse to lash out violently to force the beloved face of his sister away convulsed through his flesh.

He instead firmly gripped the edge of the table and desperately tried to bring his mind and body under control.

“Stop it.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“You loved your sister?”

“Of course, what does-”

“Did she love you?”

“I guess...”

“She wouldn't want you to be alone, right?”

“No...”

“She'd want you to feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she would mind if I used her body to make her brother feel better?”

It was absurd. It was ridiculous. He knew the words coming out of his sister's mouth were wrong. Nothing but base manipulative lies and poorly assembled justifications.

His hands petted the hair of his sister, first with brotherly love that soon began shift into manly lust.

“Carefu-”

His thumb caught the edge of the headpiece, knocking it free and it tumbled to the floor.

His sister slumped lifelessly to the floor.

Clearly just a corpse.

Jake screamed.

The world cracked.

“I'm sorry, I... I didn't... I didn't mean to kill you.”

Jake scrambled for the diadem. His hands shook.

He understood.

Putting the headpiece back on his sister meant dealing with that... thing. But not putting it on his sister meant being alone with his sister's corpse.

Primarily out of cowardice he crowned her.

The corpse of his dead sister hugged him. She didn't try to kiss him, but instead buried her head in his chest.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she murmured into his chest.

“You're... You're different then you were.”

“You gave me a body,” she snickered.

“I guess...”

“I thought... I wasn't sure you would.”

“What are you? Do you have a name?”

“You see here?” she pointed to the diadem, to where a bas-relief of some sort of dog was etched into the metal. It had a ruby eye. “I'm one of those.”

“You're a dog?”

“No! Well, kinda, but no! I'm a hellhound. Or was, before I got stuck in this crown thingy.”

“You have a name?”

“Not one I'm attached to. You wanna call me Clair?”

She was grinning with excitement and malice again. He felt the sudden urge to say yes. To let her take his sister's name.

“You wanted to be called Clara, didn't you?”

“But Clair is a better name don't you think?”

He thought he understood. She was trying to wear his love for his sister like a pelt. She wanted to use it to grip him. Probably similar to her scramble for his sexual interest.

“Clara should do fine.”

He kissed the corpse of his dead sister full on the lips and didn't shy away from her tongue.