Claimed by a Goo Girl Ch. 02

And a lifetime of guilt.

We rolled off the dome, although flopped might be more accurate, onto the grass and the solid wall of fire vanished, as quickly as it came.

"I'm running on fumes here. There's not much more I can do before I start losing cognizance," Lara said, gritted pain evident in her internal voice.

"Don't push yourself that far. Let's see how it goes but don't sacrifice yourself for me. Got it?" I said, my own voice wavering after the singeing.

"I refuse to promise that," granite stubbornness infusing her words.

"Ha, stubborn woman. Fine. Let's do this together then."

Pushing my fist into the ground, I went to a knee before fully standing up. Pulling my shoulders back, I faced my father like a man, ready to both defend myself and unleash a righteous beatdown never before seen by this earth. My father finally took notice of me. Finishing with a rousing climax of whatever incantation, he finished up, walking towards the edge of the tiki torches invisible circle. As he approached he reached into his jacket pulling out an average looking steak knife. He stopped just before he got to the circle, smaller than I remembered him looming in my memory. When he spoke his voice was rough and scratchy, like he hadn't had a sip of water in a week or so.

"Son. I'm glad you're here. So this whole thing can end. Full circle."

"You don't get to call me that. Dad," I said, making the word into a curse.

"I should've expected that. I never did do right by you. Or your mom. Clara," his said, gravelly but seemingly contrite.

"Don't you fucking say her name you piece of shit!" I shouted, outraged at his nerve.

"I deserve that. But you don't understand, I've found something extraordinary. Or it found me but, regardless, I can bring her back! My Clara. The book has given me an amazing gift, I can raise the dead. It comes at a cost, however..." he said, fingering the knife with a speculative look on her face.

"No. I've done enough wrong in my life," he resignedly muttered to himself.

I was too concerned with the consequences of approaching the barrier to attempt a similar thing again.

"Such a big man behind your magical fire, why don't you bring that knife over here and see what happens?" I asked, trying to taunt him into attacking me with the knife on this side of the magical threshold.

"No. This isn't for you..." he mumbled more to himself than for me.

"What is going on here?" I asked, growing confused.

This isn't what I expected. Where is the showdown with the evil madman I'd imagined? The one I'd rehearsed in my mind over and over. What happened to the towering edifice of strength and anger I remember? How did he become the sad and uncertain man I see before me now?

"Redemption. I hope," he said, raising the knife over his chest and turning the knife in his hands so the point faced point first towards his heart.

"Father. Whatever you think you're doing, you don't have to do it," I said, eyes wide with this strange twist I was confronting.

At this moment I was faced with the eye opening reality of the difference between imagining someone dead, and actually seeing that person posturing towards suicide.

"I really do son," he said tears rolling down his face. "Lord knows I've screwed up enough in my life. Just once I want to put something right. Don't you want to see your mother again?" His words came out between hiccuping sobs, unnerving on a full grown man. My own eyes started to moisten sympathetically.

"Of course I do. But this isn't going to bring her back. What if it's another mistake?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level and calm as I attempted to talk him down.

"I guess I'll just have to have faith. At least this time if I screw up I won't be hurting anyone else. I love you son, and wish you all the happiness in the world." His eyes met mine as he pulled his hands towards his chest, a poisoned hug as the point slipped effortlessly between his ribs. His pupils dilated, his grunt drowned in the ocean of my scream as he fell to his knees. Boneless, his arms fell to his side as his eyes rolled up til only the whites were visible as the grimoire floated until it was directly behind him. Arms sprung out wide, his body floating into a kneeling crucifixion pose, as a white light was absorbed into the book. His eyes were like a wild animals darting this way and that until the light flashed, singing my retinas. Like a marionette with its strings cut, his body crumpled toward the dirt, the tiki torches extinguishing, throwing everything into momentary darkness as my eyes fought to adjust from the one two punch. When I looked back my father was gone, all traces erased from the world in a single flash of burgundy light.

The book hovered away from the space my father had occupied until it was directly above the exhumed corpse. Then it proceeded to ... depixelate? Mote by mote, each atom of it swirled down in two mirrored swirls that led to the unknown woman's chest where they disappeared. On my second glance the features of the girl looked somewhat familiar as the book finished dissolving into her body.

Isn't that the girl who died two weeks ago with the freakishly young aneurysm? I think the news said she was only twenty six when she died.

The pale corpse of the unfortunate woman in the baby blue dress jerked once, my father forever still at her feet. A chest seizing heartbeat later and her hand twitched. Then she was off, her arms and legs moving like a puppet in a paint mixer. As quickly as it began, her rapid movements stopped, everyone holding their breath, eyes on her with rapt attention.

Like a dash of red food coloring mixed into batter, her hair's hue began to shift into a vibrant pinkish red color. Her modest breasts shivered as they began to plump and expand beneath her dress. The entire scene had a summer asphalt haze, a sort of rose colored lens distorting the air making everything look very surreal. A blood red lacquer covered her fingernails, providing a eye catching contrast to her pale skin, whose veins pulsed once as the corpse transformed from aforementioned corpse into a humanoid creature of unknown origin.

"Unnnggghhh," an erotic moan slipped from the girl's lips, cutting straight to the lizard portion of my brain, making my dick wake up and take notice. Her hands started to caress and curl across her body, cutting away the fabric and exposing her white flesh to the air. The veins faded, leaving unmarred porcelain skin with delicate dusting of pink flesh tones that keep her from landing firmly in the uncanny valley.

What the fuck?

Her stomach tightened, lithe muscles building themselves across her body, adding a lot of muscle tone to her otherwise svelte figure. Legs twisting and turning, her hands darted between her legs, caressing and curling her folds, drawing attention whilst simultaneously teasing with half seen glances of her sex. Licking her lips, the moisture turned the cold dead gray lips into a subtly enticing rose color. Arousal stirred uncomfortably in my gut until I remembered what my father had told me he was trying to do. Gripping my head in my hands I looked down, just as the woman's transformation completed, her eyes flashing open as she began to climb to her feet.

"Mom?" I asked my voice tremulous, barely daring to hope. Then I saw her eyes, they were cruel, a cold gray, containing none of the comfort or laughter I knew my mother would've had at seeing me again. The hope I had withered and died, like a cut rose placed on a desert dune. Nails bit into my skin, my grip painfully tight, frustrated I'd even had that sliver of hope.

The demon looked over my shoulder, her blue gray eyes flashing as her gaze skewered the distant Mikey like a shish kabob, analyzing him like a succulent piece of meat while he watched safely from the tree line.

"Bleugh," she stuck her tongue out and turned back towards me. "Now that's more like it. You look tasty," she said, licking her lips pointedly, sauntering towards me. Lara's fear and rage poured through me as she threw herself off my body, her battered form slowly piecing together glob by glob until she stood guard above me, shaky but defiant.

"You will not take him from me," she hissed as a milky yellow swirl of color rolled over her form.

"And who are you to stop me?" the demon responded haughtily. Just as I thought they were going to come to blows, the demon swayed, struck by a bout of vertigo. Raising a hand to her face, the naked hunger in her eyes cleared. She stood up straighter, flicked her wrist and the grimoire popped into existence. Another flick and her body was covered with a conservative top and rugged leather pants, the ensemble completed by a pair of ass kicking boots that hugged her calves.

"Apologies for that. There are certain urges that come with this form that I'm unaccustomed to curbing," she said, her voice coming out light and gentle, at contrast with the naked hunger and lust from before, with a faint british accent. She examined her form, flexing her claws before palming her breasts experimentally, eliciting a soft moan that she stifled, flushing with embarrassment."

"How uncouth of me. Where are my manners. I'm Claire Viviande, humble servant of Lady Muerte." She curtsied, catching a glimpse of my father in the process. "By her gaze," she squeaked, holding her hand over mouth. "What did you do?!" she questioned the floating book. "... Uh huh. Okay. Well that's not... And there was no one else? I told you to... Well I guess that's your right, not that I agree with you."

While she was busy speaking to grimoire, I took the time to get to my feet. Creeping up on my companion, I hugged her from behind, placing my mouth right next to her ear.

"Stand down. I don't think we're in any danger." The tension in her body melted away. Literally. She started to lose a little solidity as her curves molded to over inch of my body.

"She's dangerous," she said, her cheek forming a pair of lips to give me reassuring kiss while she kept her eyes on the girl.

"Maybe. But she doesn't mean to be. I think... But we'll have to see, won't we? You were pretty dangerous yourself when I first met you." She tensed under my words, her shoulders slumping a little as her hands clenched in frustration.

"I just want to keep you safe," she whined.

"I know you do. You did. You saved me from the fire, sweety." Holding my hand stiff I nudged it through her back, seeking out her core with questing fingertips. It was my turn to tense up in shock. Pitted, with great gouges in it, it felt like it had gone through ten rounds as a puppy's chew toy. "Are you okay?" I asked my mouth dry at the thought of losing her.

"I do not feel like spring roses and sunshine, but I will live." Slightly reassured, I kissed the crook of her neck, my fingers drawing little circles on her sides. She relaxed further, releasing little mews of pleasure. At this point the demonic girl stopped conversing what was obviously a sentient book.

"My partner has informed me of the situation that led to my release from the infernal realms after two hundred something years. Which, were not really as advertised," Claire said.

"How so?" my curiosity had the words slipping out of my mouth before my brain could censor them.

"More... purple and less fire. Fascinating culture, warlike but beautiful in its intricacies. Also they make the meanest pulled pork sandwiches, even though it's not really pork, it's kavelndish a type of frilled lizard... That's not really the point. We are facing a fairly dire calamity on our hands in the near-ish future. Sentyne is eroding the seal I placed on it all those years ago, leading Cyprian to look for a method to pull me back from my self imposed exile. The method of the manner of my resurrection was... uncouth. But what's done is done, a life for a life, as it were. He tells me that the necessary sacrifice was performed by a willing participant."

"He wasn't 'willing'. Your floating doorstop there lied to my father."

"Son you say... That's true. But your father was already commited to suicide when my companion offered him an alternate path, one that could lead to a greater good. His mind was wracked with guilt that was driving him towards ruin. I will offer prayers for his soul, though I suspect that offers little comfort, and won't help him where he's gone." She crouched down, offering me a good look at her wares, as she said a short prayer in a foreign language and brushed her hand through the dirt. "Whether he lives or survives in the lower plane is up to his wits and strength now. There's little we can reasonably do to assist him."

Lara shivered with her own arousal, as she felt my own, as we both stared at the tantalizing woman. Lara's instincts making her crave the raw materials she needed to repair her body.

"Besides, we have an even more urgent problem to deal with," she said her eyes flickering with unholy hunger as she visibly fought to control herself. "My time in the infernal realms has altered my physiology, in turn exhausting what energy the vessel contained as it was forced to change to meet my requirements."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"She's hungry," Lara said, pulling back into a fighting stance. Claire gave my human shaped companion a measured look before peeking around her at me.

"An interesting choice of familiar goodman. I've never seen a sentiaqua so large and competent before. We'll have to discuss her method of creation later. Simply put, yes, I'm hungry. I suspect due to the amatuer manner of my summoning, your father unintentionally formed a pact with me. Tying my infernal form to that of his bloodline, preventing me from harming them, and forcing me to depend on them for sustenance, lest I be banished back to hell."

"Wait. Wait. Wait... You need to eat me?"

"Nothing quite so macabre as that. I just... need... a bit of your... blood," she said, trailing off and rubbing the back of her neck, obviously embarrassed. She gave a tremulous smile, the tips of dainty fangs just barely revealing themselves, pressing against her bottom lip.

"No!" Lara cried, pulling me behind her, shielding me with her body.

"No need to raise your hackles, dear. I'm not going to pounce on the boy and drain him dry. All I need are a few drops. Probably a spoonful worth in total. Or... Alternatively, I mean, it's not exactly standard procedure, but I could hypothetically use his seed as a substitute binding agent."

What?

"What are you talking about?" Lara echoed my thought, still on edge.

Seed? Oh. I got it now.

"She means... Um... Ahem, the same thing that you need," I whispered into her neck.

"Oh. Well that's better then," she said, calming slightly.

I sometimes forget that she doesn't have some of the social hang ups that I have.

"Really? That surprises me, I would've thought you would be even more protective of that?" the demon slash girl said, intrigued.

"Why?" Lara asked, baffled.

"There are certain social connotations that come with sharing... that... with someone," I explained patiently.

"Not to mention the affection that tends to come when someone provides you pleasure," Claire said matter of factly.

Wait, what?!

"Jonas can love or sex whomever he wants, I don't care about that."

Wait, what 2.0?!

"Protecting him from harm is far more important. He's had more than his share of pain in his life. I've decided to protect him from himself as well as others."

"What do you mean 'providing me pleasure'," I sputtered at Claire.

"How else would you expect me to get what I need?" she purred, a bit of her first sultry growl entering her voice.

"Ummm. Like a sperm bank, I figured I'd get a cup and a magazine and what happens after only god should know?"

"I figured if we are going to spend time in such a close proximity why not make it enjoyable for the both of us?" she said simply, honestly confused by my reluctance.

Eyeballing her suspiciously, I tried to figure out what game she was playing. My suspicions seemed unfounded however, her face containing no trace of deception, her offer sitting on the table outside.

How am I the only one around here with a normal-ish sense of social-slash-sexual anxiety? Okay, she needs this so it's time to step up to the plate.

"Lara, are you in good enough shape to make me come instantly?" I whispered into her ear, my face lighting up in a giant blush at the thought of what could be coming.

"Do mean how I light up the nerve cluster in your lower back?" Nodding, my chin depressed the skin of her shoulder and I could feel the warmth of her smile and joy flow through the back of my brain.

"Of course. It would be my utmost pleasure," she spoke into my mind. Claire entirely forgotten, Lara spun around and planted a sloppy warm kiss upon my lips. Wrapping my arms around her waist I pulled her more fully against me, our bodies conforming in a well practiced dance. Her arms fell over my shoulder, tracing the muscles of my back downward. A handspan above my tailbone her touches stopped advancing, tracing warm circles in preparation.

"Go ahead," I said, giving her explicit permission to the agreed upon course. Her lips curled against mine in an eager smile as, in a complete role reversal, her hand sank into my flesh. Flowing through my skin, around blood vessels and bone, her hand losing form as it splintered into questing roots that hovered above the bundle of nerves in my lower back. Fully aware she had no way to do this gently, I tensed, fear and excitement running in tandem through my body. Bypassing slow things like pleasure centers and touch receptors, she interfaced directly with the nerve cluster heading straight to my brain. She'd explained it once, something about altering the pH levels across two thin tendrils, creating enough of a charge imbalance to spark, exciting the nerve situated between the two enough to fire. The conclusion to these things was a spear of almost incomprehensible sensation that murdered any rational thought. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as my lower half jerked once, my seed spilling into her body as she sent an equally fierce secondary charge into my system. Tensing again, I lost feeling in my lower extremities, fortunate that Lara propped me up as otherwise I would've crumpled to the floor.

She kissed my ear delicately as, piece by piece, I regained feeling and control of my body. The usual sight of the darker stream of my seed flowing towards her core, compressing and filling in the gaps as they swam through her pink and blue translucent skin.

"Lara, stop," I whispered, breathless after the repeated shocks my bodied gone through tonight.

"What?" she whispered back, content as she continued to kiss the side of my head, working towards my lips.

"That was for Claire. Remember?"

"Right..." She frowned and I could feel a jolt of childish petulance at having to give up her treat. She slowly turned us both, her penetrating hand gently disengaging and withdrawing from my body. She waved and I heard Claire approach, cautiously interested.

"What just happened?" Claire asked, confused and intrigued by our recent actions.

"I got you your nourishment," Lara barked, unceremoniously directing the white fluid through her body, out her hand into Claire's hastily cupped hands. She sniffed it experimentally before guzzling it down, giving a glimpse of a dainty pair of fangs as I gagged in the background.

"Perfect. That should tide me over for a day or so," she said as she waved her hand, making the grimoire pop out of existence.