The Creators Ch. 01

"You know you can touch me," she whispered, crinkling her nose affectionately as she smirked. "I'm not a display at a museum."

I reached behind her, and rested my palms on the fat of her ass. The quirk of her devious grin beckoned me to continue, so I squeezed. She gasped slightly through her smiling mouth, and planted an affectionate peck on my closed lips. I squeezed harder, the delectable flesh forming pliantly in my hands, protruding from my gripping fingers. She kissed me again, and her tongue flicked across my mouth, beckoning it to open. I did, and I tasted the sweet flavor of her invasion. Her lips sucked with gentle hedonism, drawing with a slurping smack as her tongue toyed with my own, playfully inviting me to engage with her, slithering along me and wrapping me in wet hold full of tingling sensations. She parted from the embrace in a gasp, and I could feel her heart thrumming through her pressing breasts, her violet irises consumed by her pupils. She reached back, grabbed my cock, and positioned it against herself. The heat coming from her was like a furnace, and the dew dripped upon my tip, moistening me, readying me. I felt her petals give way to my rigid head as her weight shifted slowly backward. Her tight membranous lips unfurled and engulfed me, consuming me torpidly, savoring every throbbing inch I had to give.

"That's it," she whispered, her words breathy and rapt, "let me take you all the way in."

She moaned softly as I sank into her, and her moan grew in its intensity the deeper I ventured. My balls pressed against her taint, and her demonic tail curled behind her in satisfaction. Her wet purple lips parted to yield a soft whimper, and her confident eyes wilted into an expression of vulnerability.

"God, Brandon," she gasped, "you're so deep inside me!"

For a moment, she lost control of herself, and I felt a surge of my former mind break through my lustful haze. She regained her composure faster than I could react, and she clenched around me in a hold that nearly caused me to come right there.

"You almost had me there," she winked, smiling, moaning as she began to shift her hips. "I can enslave most men with just a touch, but you're not most men, Brandon."

"What are you talking about?" I groaned, gripping her by the hips as she gyrated on top of me, her thighs squeezing my waist, her ass rotating behind her, my cock stirring her insides as she pulled me deeper into her gripping heat.

"You're a god, Brandon," she gasped, seemingly getting turned on by the very idea, "you're a Creator, a force of nature more powerful than a hurricane, and you're all mine."

"Tera," I growled in pleasure, "I'm just some fucking guy."

"That's very modest of you," Tera laughed, her mirth melodic and sweet, "but come now, Brandon; even if you weren't a god, you're much, much more than just some fucking guy."

She moved with impassioned fervency, arching her back, pushing her fat ass out from her body, pressing her silky torso deeper against my belly, thrusting her supple breasts upward, squishing them against my chest and chin. The rotations of her hips drew me ever deeper, and I could feel the contractions streaming inside her with every subtle thrust of my pelvis. My cock glided slickly though her sucking and squelching insides, rubbing along her clit as I drove in contest with her lascivious motions.

"What makes you think I am what you say I am?" I asked, locking into her rhythm and pumping as she pushed our pelvises together.

"Your sister is dead, Brandon," Tera smiled, her mouth partially agape and exhaling sweet tones, "but she's still here. How much power do you think it takes to defy death itself?"

"But," I sputtered, gritting my teeth as I forced an orgasm down, "I didn't do anything!"

"Yes, you did," Tera gasped, reaching behind me and clutching my shoulders for leverage, dragging her warm soft body against mine, "you just didn't know what you were doing. Extreme stress can unlock the power of a Creator," she turned my chin up to meet hers, and she displayed a set of sparkling white teeth between her lush lips, "or extreme pleasure."

Her hand moved from my chin and entangled in the hair at the back of my head. She gently pulled backward, and I compliantly tilted my head to reveal the vulnerable curve of my neck. She kissed me there, softly, comfortingly, and I felt my mind lose its need to question her. I couldn't sense... what was her name again? The woman... the girl... she was always with me, wasn't she? Where was she? Where did she go? It didn't matter; nothing but Tera mattered. Tera's thighs gently squeezing my waist, Tera's soft abdomen sinking into my belly, Tera's warm breasts squishing against my chest, and Tera's tender kisses sucking love against my neck. The warmth of her body, the softness of her flesh, the soothing nature of her motions, and the tight delicate heat of her insides were the only things present in the world. She massaged me from within, drawing me deeper into her lust with the lewd muscles of her erogeneity as her seduction drew me further from my mind with the gentle guidance of her enslavement.

ANGELA

My mind was flooded with fractured memories, odd sensations, blurs of images and words, and a swirling tempest of different emotions. It was maddening, excruciating, and utterly confusing, but I gritted my mental teeth, and stormed through it, hoping it would calm. Eventually, it did, and I opened someone else's eyes.

Hello? a voice called from the depths of my mind.

Justina? I asked, looking down to see a beautiful naked body stretching below me.

Are you the ghost? Justina asked. The one whose fingers were just inside me? Is your name Angela?

Yup! I responded brightly. That's me! How'd you guess that?

Your mind is in my brain, and our thoughts are open to each other; this is truly fascinating, Justina said, a touch of awe in her mental voice. Can you move me?

I looked down at my—our—hand, and tested the nerves. It splayed just like I wanted it to, and I moved it in front of my eyes, turning it over along the wrist as a flood of emotion poured into me. Though there was a strange disconnect between my thought and the action it prompted, the sensations of mortal flesh were something I had been so far removed from that I'd nearly forgotten them. Oh my god. Oh my sweet Holy Mother above, I could FEEL!

Oh my god, I thought, my mental voice quivering as though tears were welling. I can feel everything!

It's so beautiful, Justina sniffled, this means so much to you!

Why are you getting all teary-eyed?

We share the same mind now, Justina said, her words wavering in the same euphoria I felt. Emotions are just chemical reactions in the brain prompted by external stimulus, so your emotions are my emotions, and visa-versa. I've been trying to stay emotionally blank for you; I don't want to contaminate the sample.

You're quite the little scientist, aren't you? I said, flipping through the pages of our mind, experiencing the memories of Justina. Always doing experiments, always forming a hypothesis, always— I cut off as I got to a particular memory. I let it linger there, feeling extremely awkward.

Hey, stop that! Justina yelled. Stop feeling awkward, you're making me feel awkward!

Justina, I said, experiencing this memory in her mind, feeling the emotions she felt then mingling with our present emotions. Are you gonna... are you gonna explain this one to me?

Mom says I'm not old enough to feed myself, so I take the left-overs; can you stop feeling so fucking uncomfortable?! It's completely natural for a young succubus!

You're sucking sperm out of your mother's gaping asshole, I said frankly, feeling the breadth of the memory; tasting the memory of her mother's ass on my tongue, feeling the memory of her mother's fingers in my body, feeling Justina's past arousal, her present annoyance, and my own disgust mix into a concoction of volatile emotion, and it feels like you both really enjoyed the experience.

Yes, it's a wonderful mother-daughter bonding moment; there's a whole brain full of them if you're feeling frisky, but for now, I think we should keep our memories in check; I certainly don't want to remember your death—STOP REMEMBERING YOUR DEATH!

Sorry, I said, feeling Justina's horror fade as I pushed back the memory, but you brought it up. It's kind of hard not remembering something when someone else mentions it.

OK, Justina said with an exaggerated exhale, as if she were breathing the memory out of her, what's the plan?

The plan? I asked. I don't have a plan; I've just been winging it. I don't even know how I got here!

I suddenly realized that I could help Brandon. I looked down at the crossbow under the desk, and Justina immediately seized control of our motor functions.

No, no, no, Justina said firmly, that is not going to happen. This is still my brain, and this is still my body; you're not using it to kill my mother.

At least help me pull her off of him! I yelled.

I'm willing to help you, but my mother is hundreds of years old, trained in elite combat, and could easily seduce me if she so desired. Besides that, I quite like her, and don't feel like straining our relationship.

But you're willing to help? I asked.

Hold on a second, Justina said, and I could sense her carefully shuffling through the pages of my subconscious, try to keep your mind neutral.

What are you doing? I asked her as the memory of me frantically flying between Justina's room and the space above Tera's head appeared in our mind.

Testing a theory, Justina replied, showing me the idea she was forming in our mind, a Creator's power is unlocked during times of extreme pleasure or stress. Knowing a crossbow is being aimed at your testicles is probably pretty stressful.

What the fuck is a Creator?

An ancient being with god-like power—I know you don't believe me, but for now, just hear me out.

The memory slowed to a crawl. Brandon was looking at me fearfully, his eyes begging me to find a way to save him. As the memory passed, I saw a blue tendril of power burst from his mouth, and fly right into my chest. It was so fast that it could barely be seen, and I was so scared that I hadn't noticed it in the moment, but now it was as clear as day. The blast of power was the manifestation of a plea, but it wasn't really a plea, it was... a command. As the recollection slowly passed, I somehow intuitively knew what the command said: "find help."

And you did, Justina said, Brandon gave you the power to interact with me. I could see some form of you when no one else could, but that's not all he did.

This time, one of Justina's memories played before our eyes. It was of Justina bursting from her concealed room and looking at Brandon. Another stream of power flowed from Brandon's mouth, words that he didn't form with his lips, but with the pleas of his heart. "Help me," they said to Justina, and then another blast of power shot to me, "get her to help me."

Brandon created a connection between us, Justina said. He didn't know what he was doing, but he did it. Succubi connect with other species in only one intimate way, so our connection strengthened with our lust. I have another crazy theory if you want to hear it.

I'm all ears, I responded, trying to keep my confusion in check for fear of messing with Justina's progress.

You are the complete manifestation of Brandon's power, Justina said, he should have exhibited some signs of his godhood by now, but to everyone else's eyes, Brandon is just some guy. That's because he's poured every ounce of his divine strength into keeping you 'alive.' He doesn't know what he's doing, but every time external stress prompts him to use his power, his first instinct is to give it to you, to protect you, or for you to protect him. He can't help himself; ever since he saved you from passing on, his divine reflexes have been trained to you. Now, here's the kicker; you ready for this shit?

Uh... sure, I said, feeling a little intimidated by Justina's words and the tone of her thoughts. She seemed to talk faster and faster, as if her revelation was bursting from her subconscious in a manic vomit of words. She was obviously extremely excited about what she'd found.

The kicker is, Justina said, allowing a dramatic pause, you're in my head now. My brain is supporting your existence without Brandon's help, but he doesn't know it. He has the power to save himself right now!

We need to tell him! I said excitedly.

No, we don't, Justina chuckled. We just need to watch, and wait. Extreme pleasure unlocks the power of a Creator, Angela; let's watch your brother come inside my mom.

TERA

Oh my god, this cock is good!

In all my years of debauchery, I'd never lain with a man like Brandon. His rigid member pierced into my most sensitive depths, separating my folds and violating my sanctity, threatening the very entrance to my womb! His motions were timid and shy, which was perfect for me, because if this man started gaining confidence, he'd own me in a second. Still, even though he was inexperienced and awkward, he resisted me. It was infuriating and arousing at the same time. He should've been mine by now, but he wasn't. I watched his eyes, waiting for them to turn violet, waiting for them to reflect the enslavement of his mind, but they stayed a stubborn blue.

"Come to me, Brandon," I whispered in his ear, leaking my intoxicating tones into his mind, "become mine."

I ground my hips with increased fervency, my motions bordering on desperation. My ass jutted and deepened the angle of my arching back, causing the folds of flesh along my waist to crease about the bend around his arms. I brought my pelvis forward in the continuation of my motion; flexing my abdomen against his belly as my hips drove against him. His cock stirred my insides with the movement, and my passionate assault only served to drive me further into the depths of my own manic lust. I was losing control of myself in my attempt to take him. His timid thrusts started to grow in their ardency, and I felt the panic rise with the ascension of my pleasure.

"Why do you resist me?" I asked him, trying to keep the seduction in my voice, trying to make the nearly-uncontrollable pleasure. "Don't you want me?"

"Yes," he replied hoarsely, seemingly unaware that he was gaining an edge on me. "God, I want you!"

"Then give in to me," I pleaded, now unable to keep the desperation from ringing in my tones. "I'll do anything you want, Brandon; there are no depths I won't stoop to for you."

My words only encouraged him to thrust harder. A sharp inhale of breath shot through my gritted teeth as I combated the feeling inside me, vainly resisting the ecstatic impaling of my sucking innards. I felt my control wane, and my body move without my permission, compelled by the euphoria building within me. The controlled deliberate grinds of my hips changed from steady oscillations to whorish, needful motions. Instead of seductive circular passes, I began to rise and fall in congruence with Brandon's thrusts, fucking myself as he fucked me. His cock impaled me, his length piercing the deepest reaches of my lust, his girth stretching me all the way to my hollowed bottom. My clit ran along his shaft with each pass of our grinds, and the feeling of it rubbing along him as he defiled me sent aching pleasure deep into my pelvis. I knew I should stop; I knew I should cut my losses, but I couldn't help myself. Oh god, it was too good! I no longer moaned with the sultry pleasure of a woman in control, but cried out with the panicked yelps of a slut being broken. The easy smile I once wore was replaced with gaping oval that only pleaded for more, and the blissful gaze of my eyes turned to wide-eyed, teary windows of uncontrollable ecstasy.

Suddenly, Brandon changed. His grip on my ass tightened until it hurt, and he pulled me close to him, pressing my body to his. I held to him desperately, clinging to his shoulders, unable to pull myself from the pleasure he was forcing into me with each squelching impale. He held my pelvis in stasis, trapping it with his strong arms, and he thrusted into me in a fury of blasts, plunging deep, impacting so violently that my fat rippled up my ass. I screamed into his chest, tears welling in my eyes as the pleasure ripped up my spine, scorched through my synapses and compelled me to whine in feverish need for the alpha's seed. His motions became violent, turning my elegant body into a blur of jiggling tan flesh and flailing hair, and I reveled in it, longed for it, dug my nails into his back and begged for it.

"What happened to you, Tera?" Brandon asked, teasing mirth in his voice. "Did you just give up on me? I'm insulted; I thought you really wanted me."

"Brandon!" I screamed, looking through tear-streaked eyes at his face above me. "Stop!"

"Stop?!" Brandon laughed, pumping into me so hard the chair was shaking beneath us. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I'm sorry!" I screamed, the pressure ballooning uncontrollably inside me. "Just please, stop!"

"It doesn't sound like you really want me to stop," Brandon grinned down. "Is this you playing hard to get? I fucking hate it when women play hard to get!"

Brandon gripped my ass in a vice-hold, squeezing the flesh until it stung beautifully. He picked me up like I was nothing, turned us around, and then unceremoniously dropped me into the chair. I couldn't help myself; I squealed in delight at his savagery, and spread my legs wide to either side. I vainly held my arms out in front of me, but the defense was half-hearted at best. I wanted him to take me. He grabbed my outstretched wrists, and pinned them against the chair behind my head; his face hovering over mine, his body looming threateningly as his pelvis smashed into my spread-legged vulnerability.

"Oh, god!" I found myself screaming, the words coming from my mouth without my permission. "Fuck me, Brandon! Make me your whore!"

That was not a dignified sentence, but it was the desire of my heart. Brandon laughed as he launched his body against mine, shifting me brutally against the back of the chair, forcing me up and down with each merciless drive of his hips. I stared up at him with eyes full of submission, my lips quivering and pleading for more abuse, more pain and pleasure. He let go of my hands, and I clutched the back of the chair as one of his hands found a flailing breast, and the other, my throat. I growled an animalistic tone as he clenched both hands, squeezing and deforming the succulent mammary fat as he constricted my windpipe.

"Choke me like a bitch!" I hissed, my tongue snaking out in serpentine hedonism.

My back arched from the chair, bringing my chest closer to him as I squeaked pathetic tones of my ascension. It was building and building, rising past the point of no return. The quaking, churning ecstasy of my depths rose with the melting of my mind, breaking the will to remain myself. My spread legs curled around Brandon's waist and brought him deeper into me; my whorish body demanding to be filled as often as possible. His tip pushed into the resistance of my cervix, and my bodily arch wrenched a violent thrust forward, propelling all but my head and shoulders off the chair. I screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Brandon's rigid heat throbbed inside me, and he growled with the escalating fervency of his passion. The pressure built past the critical point, and I was held in a stasis of paralytic euphoria for a brief, but seemingly endless, second. And then, I burst. The feeling rushed inside me, coursing through every nerve in my body, and I blasted a stream of my release onto Brandon's pelvis. He roared cathartically, and then blew inside me. His hot viscous seed poured into the ruined depths of my body, and pooled its delectable fire into my womb. My blurred vision got a glimpse of the man, and I saw him... I saw him for what he truly was. Bright blue power encased him, seemingly electric in its aura. It coursed through every vein in his body, and showed brightly from his eyes. His eyes did not bare irises, but were simply glowing ovals of energy. He stood for a moment, looming over me like the god he was, and then he collapsed onto the floor.