Have Grace use her enhanced perception abilities to make Sister Mary Katherine experience premonitions of her coming fate
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You turn to Grace as you all lounge in the entertainment room, the mental whimpering of crystalline bullies providing a satisfying background ambiance. Her punk goth form reclines on the plush couch, topless per the randomizer's decree, multiple piercings catching the light.
"Grace," you say, your seven-and-a-half-foot futa form towering even while seated, "why wait until the acquisition ceremony? Your enhanced perception abilities should allow you to reach Sister Mary Katherine from here. Give her a taste of what's coming."
Grace's blue eyes widen with wicked delight, the subtle flecks of nanite-blue glowing slightly. "Holy shit, you're right. I can fucking project to that sanctimonious bitch from here." She sits upright, her enhanced breasts swaying with the movement. "Never tried reaching someone this specific at this distance before."
Maxine sets aside her wine glass, scientific curiosity piqued. "Fascinating application of the nanite enhancement. The empathic field should theoretically extend that far, especially given your emotional connection to the target."
Victoria leans forward. "What exactly do you plan to make her see?"
Grace's pierced lips curve into a cruel smile. "Her future as a fucking power source." She closes her eyes, concentrating. The room temperature seems to drop several degrees as she focuses her enhanced perception abilities.
"I can see her," Grace whispers, her voice taking on an eerie echo. "The pious bitch is alone in the chapel, praying. Perfect timing."
You watch as Grace's hands clench into fists, her body tensing with effort. A faint purple glow emanates from the nanite-blue flecks in her eyes, now visible even through her closed eyelids.
"Sister Mary Katherine Donnelly," Grace intones, her voice unnaturally resonant, "your judgment fucking comes."
In the Holy Redemption Convent across the city, Sister Mary Katherine Donnelly—a stern-faced woman in her fifties with iron-gray hair pulled into a tight bun beneath her habit—suddenly freezes mid-prayer. Her rosary beads slip from her fingers, clattering against the stone floor.
Through Grace's perception, you can see what Sister Mary Katherine sees: the chapel around her dissolving, replaced by Victoria's basement. She watches in horror as her own body is engulfed in a beam of light, transforming into a crystalline form identical to the other bullies. She feels phantom sensations of perpetual orgasms washing over her while her consciousness remains trapped, forever powering the very people she once condemned.
"Your piety was always a fucking mask," Grace projects into the nun's mind. "Now you'll serve true righteousness as our power source. Forever."
Sister Mary Katherine gasps, clutching her chest as the vision intensifies. She sees herself frozen in crystal, experiencing endless pleasure she cannot control, while Grace stands before her in her punk goth glory, laughing at her fate.
"One week," Grace's voice echoes in the nun's mind. "Prepare yourself for eternity."
The vision abruptly ends, leaving Sister Mary Katherine trembling on the chapel floor, cold sweat soaking her habit as she struggles to comprehend what she's experienced.
Back in the mansion, Grace's eyes snap open, the glow fading as she exhales heavily. "That sanctimonious cunt just shit herself," she announces with triumphant satisfaction. "Literally. She's fucking terrified."
"Impressive range," Maxine notes clinically, already typing observations into her tablet. "The empathic field extended nearly fifteen miles with pinpoint accuracy."
Victoria raises her wine glass in a toast. "To justice, delivered with style."
You smile, pleased with Grace's growing abilities. "How did it feel to project that specifically?"
"Like fucking electricity," Grace replies, reaching for her drink with slightly trembling hands. "I could feel her fear, her disbelief. And something else—" she pauses, looking surprised. "A tiny part of her felt... relief? Like some part of that repressed bitch has been waiting for punishment."
"Fascinating," Maxine murmurs. "The empathic connection works both ways."
You lean back, satisfied. Sister Mary Katherine Donnelly will spend the next week in absolute dread, awaiting a fate she can neither understand nor escape.