The Creators Ch. 12

Chapter Twelve: Holy Mother

The Maternal Bible: Chapter Ninety-three, Page Two-hundred:

In the end-times, the angels will come from the heavens to join the resplendent hordes of divinity, the harbingers will come in white robes, and a champion will be selected from the mortals. The devil will raise his horde, and a champion of deception will rival that of God. The battle will rage in the heavens as it does on earth, and the cataclysm will break the very pillars of existence. All will fall, or all will rise. There is only one enemy, and he is not the Unholy Father.

Part One: Cataclysm

ANGELA

The world had fallen away. There was only his consuming lips and tasting tongue, his pressing chest and rubbing crotch, his exploring hands and squeezing fingers. I gave myself wholly to him, and would've consummated the act without a second thought, but Brandon had the wherewithal to pick me up, and avoid disaster. It had taken him considerable force to separate us, though it felt like most of that force had been exerted on himself. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild with desire, a desire that had already imprisoned me.

"Take a deep breath," he said, his blue eyes an inch from mine, his lips brushing me as he spoke. I was standing in his tree, and there was a woman beside me. She was curvaceous, but not vulgarly so; her breasts sloped gracefully from her chest before standing proudly to shadow her flat belly, and her glutes rounded succulently from her thin waist, perched above the smiling crease of her thighs. She had strawberry-blonde hair and freckled pale skin, but both were a bioluminescent blue in the ethereal light. That woman was me, but I wasn't her. Not yet. I took the air from Brandon's mouth, and my heart decelerated. He reached behind me, and carefully touched his fingers to the nape of my neck. I felt a pleasant pressure there, then an odd invasion. It crept up my spine, filtered through the base of my skull, and seeped cold euphoria into my brain, lowering my heartrate even more, making me languid and accepting.

"You drugged me," I giggled.

"I did," Brandon smiled, tugging gently on the vine that had just imbedded itself into my nervous system.

"You didn't need to do that to get what you want," I grinned, biting my lip and shifting my naked hips for him. Brandon couldn't stop himself from grabbing those hips, and forcing my body against him. I moaned my need into his voracious kiss, lifted one leg and wrapped it behind him, undulating my crotch against his. He balled his fists into my hair, and tore my face away. I gasped desperately, mouthing for his oral caress, staring drunkenly into his wild eyes. He forced his gaze away before he lost himself again, and he touched my chest, my belly, and my back. Glowing vines snaked up my body, and penetrated me where his touch had signaled. They pushed into my belly, meandered beneath the flesh, and attached themselves to my vitals. There was no pain, as the first vine had taken it all, and I only stared in fascination as I was invaded. I didn't know why it turned me on.

"Are you ready?" Brandon whispered.

"Do it," I breathed. The last vine pushed through my sternum, and stuck into my heart. Diamond became a part of the tree, and I became nothing once again. I floated out of the body that had been my home for the past three days, and when I looked down at it, I felt a sense of loss. Diamond's body had been a wonder to occupy, and her mind, even more so. I would miss her. Then I connected eyes with Brandon, and all the melancholy left me. I didn't even register the horror of being bodiless. I only saw him as I floated down, and took what was mine. My ethereal hands slid through the lengths of my arms, my ethereal feet dropped into my new heels, and my ethereal eyes focused behind my new retinas. I took my first breath, and drummed my first heartbeat. Feeling surged into me, the blood pumping through my veins, delivering life to muscles that contracted beneath the flesh, the flesh singing with sensation. The vines that preserved the vessel withdrew, and I stumbled forward, and landed into Brandon's arms. I smelled him with my nose, felt him with my skin, and when I turned my face upward, I tasted him with my tongue. I was sloppy, unpracticed with my new mouth, but I soon recovered those old instincts, and the memories of the flesh came roaring back. I knew this body. I'd walked in it for ten years. It was older now, and there were differences, but this was mine. I blinked back my first tears, and I expressed my gratitude, my euphoria, and my love with all the passion I could bring.

"Holy shit," I gasped, "I don't have a dick anymore."

"Those are your first words?" Brandon laughed into my mouth.

"If you suddenly lost your penis, what would you say?" I laughed back.

"I'd just go looking for it," Brandon sniggered. "It's been all over town; someone's bound to know where it is."

"You slut," I bit his grinning lip.

"Oh, here it is," Brandon chuckled, pushing his crotch between my legs, "I left it in my sister."

"Oh... fuck," I hissed, breathing heavily.

"What?" Brandon asked.

"We're goddamn rednecks!" I exclaimed. "All those city people who used to call us sister-fucking-cow-tippers were right!"

"When you're a god, it's just 'keeping the bloodline pure,'" Brandon laughed, undoing his belt.

"No," I whispered on his lips. I pulled his face away so that I could look at it. The soft glow of the bioluminescence played across his features, painting his pointed nose, pronounced chin and high cheeks with a blue tinge, and exaggerating the color of his eyes. I ran my hand through his strawberry-blonde hair, marveling at the texture of it. God, he looked like me.

"What?" Brandon asked.

"Don't try to sugarcoat what we're about to do," I whispered, staring intently into his eyes. "It's wrong on so many levels, Brandon."

"Angela, if you—"

"And that's what makes it so fucking hot!" I gasped, pulling his face to mine. "Dearest brother, I want you to dump a hot load in my box. Let's make retarded babies."

"Goddamn it, Angela," Brandon groaned.

"Someone tune the banjo; the Sorenson twins are about to fuck," I snickered, and jumped on his crotch, causing the both of us to tumble onto the couch with me landing straddling his lap.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Branon growled.

"I'm talking dirty, don't you like it?" I giggled, fumbling between his legs to get his pants down.

"Your dirty-talk is just as good as your pickup lines," Brandon said, ripping his belt off.

"Fucking amazing?"

"Comically terrible, and somewhat disturbing," Brandon frowned, pushing his pants around his ankles.

"So, perfectly in character," I smiled on Brandon's lips as my hands slid into his boxers.

"You are so warped."

"My sex education was watching you jack it," I was panting with excitement. "My first sexual experience was eating out a succubus, and my second was living in that succubus's head while she got raped into slavery by her own cousin. For the past three days, I've been having threesomes with a mother-daughter duo who don't know what 'limits' are, and just yesterday, I became possessed with a gift of ancient evil, sexually tortured my adoptive mother, and was anally-fucked by my biological mother until I came so hard that I blew cum into my own mouth." I licked Brandon's lips. "Needless to say, I'm fucked up. But you know what the weirdest thing is?"

"After all that, no, actually."

"I'm still a virgin!" I giggled, and yanked Brandon's boxers off. His cock sprang upward, and waggled stiffly between us. His tip was level with my navel, his girth was greater than my closed fist, and he was hard as a rock. The heat of it radiated onto the flat of my pelvis from an inch away, and the tip was weeping with his desire. I knew he was big, I'd seen him before, but with it right in front of me, and staring me in the eye, I realized just how impressive he was. I had prepared a funny line to say in this exact situation, but I... I just... I just couldn't remember it...

"Angela Sorenson, rendered speechless," Brandon chuckled softly. "How flattering."

"I guess my dirty-talk wasn't so bad after all," I managed, trying to hide my growing anxiety.

"There's nothing you could say that wouldn't make me want you," Brandon said, his hands sliding up my thighs. "It just has to be you who says it."

"That was almost smooth, Brandon."

"Don't hide from me," Brandon said, his hands slowing when they reached their destination, and gripping the naked fat of my backside.

"I'm scared," I confessed with a whisper, looking at Brandon as a curtain of strawberry-blonde hair fell over my forehead, and concealed one coy eye.

"Did you just do that on purpose?" Brandon asked.

"No, why?"

"It was the sexiest thing I've ever seen," Brandon's voice was thick, and his gripping hands squeezed me until his fingers were lost in the pliable meat. A current of sensation ran up my spine, and I felt the new arousal of my body surge forward. My petals flushed and dripped, my clitoris engorged, my insides ached and saturated with need. Without thinking, I raised myself by the knees, stretching back, my belly striating with the subtle outline of muscles, my breasts shadowing them generously. I hovered my virgin crease over him, and felt his rigid heat brush the wet folds of me. Electric signals ran traffic through my body, making me quiver from head to toe from just the slightest touch.

"You bastard," I moaned down at him.

"Do you like it?" Brandon grinned guiltily up at me. "I added a couple extra billion nerves to... certain parts of you."

"I'm custom-made just for you, huh?" I laughed breathily, my anxiety ratcheting with my want, my heart thundering against my breastbone.

"You are," Brandon guided me forward, his tip parting my petals, "which is why it won't hurt, Angela. You don't have to be afraid."

"I'm not scared of pain; I like pain," I whispered. "I'm terrified that it won't change anything." I brought my hand forward, and watched as my ethereal fingers exited the physical ones with ease. I was wearing this body, and if I didn't bind to it, it would fall away from me like cheap clothing.

"I don't know how any of this shit works, but I know what I feel," Brandon said softly. "All I can do is hope that you feel the same."

I reached back, and placed my hands atop his. I brought them forward, and linked fingers with him. We stared into each other's identical eyes, seeing the mirrors of our genders, our expressions the same. Fear, desire, trust. Love. It was forbidden, it was unnatural, it was abhorrent, but it was true.

"You're a sick fuck, Brandon," I whispered.

"You're a twisted slut, Angela," Brandon whispered back. We shared a smile, and I dropped. He ran through me, parted my channel, stretched me to my limit, then stopped at my bottom. A gasp tore from my lips, my body froze in paralytic shock, my eyes bulged. His invasion was molten, radiating heat into my virgin flesh, his girth pressing and stretching me, his length invading my sanctity, spearing into my abdomen. The loss of my chastity echoed through my nethers, then dwindled with my passing heartbeats. I stayed still and rigid for a moment longer, and we stared at each other. We'd done it. The forbidden, unnatural, abhorrent thing had happened. It couldn't be undone, and it couldn't be washed away. We were degenerates now. I grinned at him, and he grinned back. Then I shifted slightly, and the stirring of my womanhood sent a bolt of searing pleasure right into my brain, and my static straddle turned to a back-drooping arch, the deepening bow accompanied with a drawn-out growl of pure hedonism. Goddamn. Goddamn! GODDAMN!

"Goddamn!" I hissed through gritted teeth.

"What?!" Brandon asked, alarmed. I looked up at him through strands of blonde hair, my eyes topping my whites drunkenly.

"You've ruined me, Brandon," I whispered, my breath heated, becoming desperate. "You fucking asshole."

Brandon's face relaxed into a self-satisfied smile. "That good, huh?" he smirked. "Don't worry, Angela; you're not the first woman to have a life-altering experience from sitting on my magnificent... goddamn. Goddamn! Oh, goddamn, Angela!"

"What?" I smiled through gaping lips that expired my pleasure. I rolled my hips behind me, driving my pelvis forward with my clenching abs, then sliding back with the deepening arch of my spine. My pussy smeared it's delight across Brandon's crotch, massaged him with the rolling contractions of my inner muscles, and pulled him to his limit with the suction of my clinging lips. I pinned his hands beside his head, our fingers still linked, and I grinned into his stupefied face as my hair tickled his cheeks.

"Your no virgin!" Brandon gasped.

"Am too," I sniggered back, moaning through my laughter.

"Anal counts as sex, and I don't care who says otherwise!"

"Poop-hole loophole."

"Is every gay man a virgin then?" Brandon moaned.

"I don't know, Brandon;" I whispered on his lips, "you tell me."

Brandon narrowed his eyes. "Who fucking talked?"

"You left your office window open," I snickered, outlining his lips with my tongue, squeezing his cock with my pussy, "and valkyries are such terrible gossipers."

"Astrid, that bitch!"

"Not Astrid," I giggled, trapping Brandon with my thighs.

"Jade!" Brandon gasped, his strong chin tilting in pleasure. I gnawed on it, grinning mischievously as I rocked back and forth, watching his eyes glaze with pleasure.

"Not Jade," I whispered, licking his cleft.

"Not..."

"Yes," I licked my way to his lips, and stopped to smirk at him. "Bianca told me everything. You sure you don't want to retrofit me with extra parts? I really like this clit you gave me, but if it makes you happy..." And Brandon had me on my back, his weight suppressing me, his hips driving. I screamed my exhilaration, spreading my legs wide, my toes curling in their airborne positions. He hammered through me, smashing into my pubis, striking my cervix with each brutal thrust, the impacts coercing some hidden pleasure from my erogenous depths. My elastic entrance stretch around him, letting me feel him enter me from taint to clit, then burrow within to compel more intimate delights. His chest squished my breasts between us, his breath was hot on my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and drove my tongue into his mouth. His lips consumed fiercely, his nose exhaling his short breaths beside mine, his tongue entangled in ardent combat as our bodies heaved in congruence. I reached behind him, trailed my middle finger teasingly down his back, ran it between his cheeks, and pushed into his favorite hole. I grinned against his lips as I felt him get heated, thrusting against me with a purpose, trying to pulverize my dainty body from the inside and out. I broke from our kiss with a gasp, drawing deep breaths into my lungs so that I could exalt my joy. My finger writhed within him encouragingly, and he growled, slid his hands under my ass, spread me, and pushed two fingers from each into my filth.

"Fuck you, Brandon!" I snarled, pivoting my heels against the couch's back so that I could perform a horizontal squat, and take his fingers deeper.

"Yeah," Brandon laughed breathily against my neck, "I put extra nerves here too. A lot of them."

"You wanna fuck your twin sister in the ass, you low-life piece of shit?!" I cried, the smile gone from my lips, only the awe-struck pleasured oval of my gaping mouth.

"Eventually," Brandon growled in my ear. "How does my whore-sister like my fingers stretching her little shithole?"

"Stretch it more, you faggot!" I snarled back, bucking against him, my waving body a violent oscillation. Brandon complied, prying his invading fingers until the sweet sting sung its heinous song through my depths, mingling with the chorus of pleasures that ratcheted through my hollowed-out pussy.

"I'm telling Mom what you called me," Brandon said into my mouth.

"I'm telling Dad first," I gasped against his lips.

"Dad always takes Mom's side."

"We'll see whose side he take after I deep-throat the old man!" I hissed.

"Holy fuck, Angela!"

"That's exactly what this is," I gasped.

"You went too far!" Brandon seethed as he ravaged me.

"You're not going far enough! Deeper, Dearest Brother, deeper!"

With a lock of my legs and twist of my abdomen, I spun us until I was straddled atop him once again. He pushed another finger from each hand into me, and stretched, causing my back to dive into an arch, my belly to press to his, and my shoulders to pinch together. I drove my pelvis against him, removed my encouraging finger, and grasped the sides of his head so that I could eat his mouth. Then he had me against the wall, driving so hard it felt like he was trying to break me through it. I squealed with every thrust, inhaling with desperate pants, my face flushed, my body slick with sweat. I locked my legs around his waist and clung to his shoulders, crying out with every breath, hugging him internally with his every retreat. His heart was hammering against mine; his breath was exerted and short, his thrusts were reaching a crescendo. He still held me from the inside, kneading his fingertips into my taut filth as he ran traffic through me from the other side, hitting that spot over, and over, and over again! It was getting to me now; a pressure that seemed to ache with pleasure, a feeling that built, and built. I couldn't cry out anymore. I only had enough voice in my chest to gasp and wheeze, my neck striating with the tension of my throat, my chest burning.

"Come inside me," I whispered lovingly into Brandon's ear, and his hips blasted, accelerating to a fervency, driving me against the bark-covered wall. My pussy drooled down the convulsing bridge of my holes, both channels wracked with spasms; fluttering and contracting, seizing around all invasions, trying to take them deeper. Brandon panted against my cheek, his tone that of rutting beast, long past sanity. I lost myself with him, becoming the twisting body of reaction, the writhing dancer of sensation. My hands turned to claws against his back, the nails digging into his shoulders. My eyes shut tightly, and I pressed my cheek to his chest, clinging on for dear life, whimpering as the feeling ravaged me. I was helpless to it, a slave and a victim, and it showed no mercy. My breath caught, my body seized, and I was trapped in the moment of excruciating ecstasy. Brandon shared it, growing rigid, unable to make a sound. Then the wave crashed upon us, and he erupted into my depths as I found my voice, and exalted to the ceiling. White energy shot from him, swirled around us in a vortex, and consumed the room. Shapes appeared in the sapphire currents; images of dolphins leaping from waves, of birds diving into canyons, of trees sprouting and growing to giants above sparse plains. My sexual climax dwindled, but a new crescendo rose. It was an exhilaration, a feeling of energy that raged in my veins. Brandon pressed his mouth to mine, and we stared wide-eyed into each other through the kiss, the feeling firing through our synapses, flashing, blinding, then... done. The energy dissipated, and with it, our strength. Brandon lowered us weakly, and I slid down the wall before falling into a spineless sprawl on the floor. Our mouths stayed connected, the passion boiling, then simmering, then calming. We parted with a harmony of gasps, then looked down.

My body was covered from foot to neck in white patterns. They were of animals and plants, the lines contouring to every curve of me, impossible in their intricacy. A wolf howled on my shoulder, a lioness stalked a buffalo on my thigh, a whale swam beneath the reflection of the moon on one of my breasts. There were hundreds of other scenes on my body, from the soles of my feet to the tips of my fingers, each one flowing with the curves of my form and separated by patterns of foliage and water. As the light dimmed to its normal radiance, I noticed that it was tinged slightly green. Brandon created a butterfly, and its ghostly shell shined with the same green tint before it dimmed to reveal the creature beneath. The monarch floated lazily about the room, and settled on a stalk of milkweed growing in the window.