The Creators Ch. 14

Chapter Fourteen: Ofan and Iona

Prelude: Towerhead

ARBITRUS GEN

I stepped out of the astral plane, and back into consciousness. The inn was dimly lit with the drowsy light of a summer afternoon, the dusty sunbeams shining on wooden tables and foggy glassware. It was one of the few times of day where I did not feel the unquenchable need for a drink. Morning brought the thirst, and evening always did, but afternoons were usually bearable. Today however, I felt like a drink. It wasn't the thirst that compelled me, but a sudden urge to celebrate. For I had looked into the astral plane, and seen the debris that was once Corruption's realm. It was over. Julia had done it.

"One of them crows left me this," Joseph Sorenson said, holding up a signet. "It means that Mary and I are Eminent of Ofan, and can visit any time we damn-well please."

"A great honor," I said, shining a glass.

"I suppose," Joseph said, frowning at the signet. "I don't know how in the blue fuck I'm gonna get there though."

"A caravan will get you to the foothills, and a mule will take you up the passes until you get to Vokiak, a princedom that resides in the shadow of the Gratoran Wall. Once there, you can shoot off a flare, and an Ofanian will lower a bucket for you to ride up in."

"Caravans, mules, and buckets," Joseph spat. "My boy is a heathen idol of infinite devil's power, and I'm supposed to visit him by riding in fuckin' coach, then traversin' passes like a fuckin' shepherd, then going up in a fuckin' bucket like a goddamned bushel of turnips? Couldn't he have left one of them crows to carry me around?"

"Downright ungrateful," I concurred.

"Always was," Joseph sighed. "Fucks off with Tera with no salutations but a bullshit letter, then next we hear of him, he's a celebrity with a harem of whores!" Joseph worked his jaw. "Didn't even think about us."

"He obviously didn't want you to know," I said, filling a glass. "Can you blame him for wanting to keep his secrets from you, Joseph? You almost had him institutionalized when he tried to tell you about Angela."

"Angie...." Joseph muttered, taking the glass from me. "Back from the dead just to leave me again. My children want nothing to do with me, Arby. Where did I go wrong?"

"They love you, Joseph," I said, pouring myself a glass. "They just grew up."

Joseph looked at the froth of beer in his glass, the wheels of his mind turning. "They're fuckin' each other, ain't they?"

"What was that?" I asked, though I heard it clearly.

"I said they fuckin' each other, ain't they?" Joseph yelled, then reached into his pouch, and slammed a book on the counter. I was surprised to see a late-print edition of my own journal resting beneath my nose. "See, I've been readin' this book written by this fella, Arbitrus Gen," Joseph said. "He was the same kinda heathen idol as the good Sister Julia, and he says that his beloved husband, and I quote, 'became patterned with the symbols of his being, from his soles to his chin, resplendent in the white glow of my eternal love.' Now, that's some hardcore faggotry if I ever heard it. You seem to know about all this Creator shit, Arby; tell me true: is my boy sullying the virtue of my only daughter?"

"I wouldn't put too much stock in that journal, Joseph," I chuckled, sliding the book off the counter. "It was written by a delusional homosexual."

"Yeah..." Joseph sighed again, and stared back at the foam in his glass, "...I guess." He rotated the glass on the counter, "Could've left one of the crows with me though. I wanna fly around too, ya know."

"He'll be back, Joseph," I said, picking up my own glass. I doubted it though.

Part One: Paradise

BRANDON

The mountain colony of Ofan was a tropical paradise. Ancient palm trees stood a hundred feet high, bright flowers decorated the ground, and a clear blue lake shimmered from a dormant caldera. Vines spiraled the columns of trees and covered the forest floor, bearing overlarge fruit that was ripe and pungent, but never rotting. The fauna ranged from terrestrial herbivores to brilliant tropical birds, each one unique only to Ofan, for they were all distant descendants of Ofan's creations.

Our arrival was greeted with muted cheer. The old and young of Ofan were delighted to have their patron god, but were shocked at how few of their mothers and daughters had returned. Though I was given great respect and reverence, it was obvious that the grief outweighed my presence. The funerals lasted from sunrise to sunset. Great pyres were lit, and the remnants of the Ofanian Guard performed ceremonies that I didn't understand, but was expected to lead. I did my best, and probably failed, but no one ever remarked upon my awkwardness. At least I didn't have to feign my grief. Between Tera, Justina, Lucilla, Julia, Astrid and Willowbud, there was enough grief within me to share with the others. Still, I felt like an imposter. I wouldn't have faulted the bereaved if they blamed me for what had happened to the Ofanian Guard, but none did. For me, there was only reverence and hope. I was glad to have Angela with me in the flesh to hold my hand as I spoke my meaningless words, and made my pitiful gestures.

"I think feeling like an imposter is part of being a good leader," she said when we were alone in bed. "It's when you think that you're right all the time that shit goes south."

"When did you become a philosopher?" I asked wryly.

"I am the Bound One of Ofan," Angela said grandly. "My musings are great wisdoms, my bad puns are the highest form of art, and my turds are to be preserved for future generations to marvel at."

"Why are you like this?" I groaned.

"Look daughter," Angela said, effecting an Ofanian accent, "the Great Angela Sorenson ate corn upon this night."

"Holy shit," I grumbled.

"That's what they'll call it," Angela sniggered.

"What happened to being a humble leader?"

"You're the god; you have to be the humble one. I get to be a spoiled bitch," Angela giggled, sprawling out on the bed beside me. She closed one eye, and seemed to aim her pupil into mine. Can you hear me? her telepathic mind asked.

Pretty wild, huh? I replied. After our first night together in Ofan, Angela realized I had made her female body mostly from a male perspective. Though she enjoyed much of what I'd given her, she wanted autonomy over her body, so I made a connection between her and I, and fed her some of my power, making her a shapeshifter. Now that I had unlimited bound power, giving these abilities was as easy to me as breathing. Something that would have taken me days to recover from before now didn't even cause me to break a sweat.

I guess, she squinted her open eye at me, ever since you gave me this, I've been finding all these weird little abilities. This is how dragons communicate with each other.

You don't have to aim it, I answered.

I added a whole new feature to my brain; it's not like I can just pick it up without a tutorial.

I designed you to be the smartest person in the world. Don't tell me my efforts were wasted.

She stuck her tongue out at me. If the machine doesn't work, do you blame the machine, or the engineer?

The size of the vessel matters naught if there is but a pittance to fill it.

Is that what girls say when you stick your dick in them?

"Oh, I see," I chuckled, "you filled up all that brain-space with witty comebacks."

"No," she giggled, "you're just a dumbass. All the brains that were meant for the head on your shoulders went to the one between your legs."

"Ah, but didn't you just infer that my dick was small?"

"I inferred that you've been sticking it in whores so used up that Droktin's Pass would be a snugger fit." Her eye twinkled, and she wiped a tear away. "Fuck, I miss those whores."

I sighed to keep my own sudden surge of tears at bay, and pulled her close. "I do too."

"Do you think they're watching us right now?"

"Knowing Tera and Justina, they probably got front row seats. Astrid's probably getting the popcorn, and Lucilla's lounging in the royal box."

"What about Julia?"

"She's pretending not to watch while she jerks it behind her bible."

"And Willowbud?" Angela asked softly.

Now I had to wipe a tear away. "No. She moved on."

We were in the canopy of a baobab tree that towered over the rest of Ofan, nearly as tall as the Great Maple I'd made in Drastin, but twice as thick. Our view from my room was splendid, overlooking the mountainous rainforest dotted with the bonfires the Ofanians lit by their treetop domiciles. It was a breathtaking sight, but it paled in comparison to the vision that lay beside me. Angela's strawberry-blonde hair was splayed above her delicate portrait of blue eyes, freckles, a pointed nose and strong chin. Her body was a display of supple pale curves canvased with deific glowing patterns. She had on a dress whose skirt barely topped her thighs, and whose bodice struggled to constrain her chest. An Ofanian necklace of tropical flowers was laid across the swell of her breasts, the glisten of humid sweat clinging to the fabric as her bosom rose and fell alluringly in congruence with her breaths. Her irises topped her eyes as she grasped her neckline, and slowly drew it down.

Her breasts jiggled from their constraints, the nipples standing proud and pink. She slowly slithered on the bed as she slid the dress further down, revealing the soft flat of her belly, the narrowing of her waist, the widening of her hips, and the converging lines of her pelvis. An arrow of blonde hair shown from between her thick thighs, directing to the pink slit that blushed and leaked with desire. She turned until she was on her belly, her head between my legs, her eyes traveling the length of my bulge. She curled her little fingers beneath my waistband, then drew my pants down. I sprung upward, and Angela's eyes widened with avarice at the sight of me.

"Do you want to know something?" she asked softly.

"With you, I'm never sure."

"I've been fucked every-which way, but I have yet to put a penis in my mouth," she hovered her lush moist lips of her my head, then paused, and looked up at me with her mischievous blue eyes.

"What?"

The flora and fauna patterns on her body thrummed, and she sprouted a pair of blonde bunny ears from her mane. A little cottontail wagged excitedly from between her robust cheeks, and her ears cocked. "Do you like it?" she asked. "I can tell you do; I can hear your heartbeat."

"You can feel it too," I groaned, throbbing in her hand.

She giggled, and nestled her nose between my roiling testicles, inhaling deeply. "Why do I love that smell so much?" she whispered with a shuddering breath, and planted tender kisses on my testicles before wrapping them both in her mouth, and sucking. My head fell back into my pillow, and I closed my eyes to fully appreciate the splendor of my sister's plush lips enveloped around my scrotum, her dexterous tongue lathering each orb that was nestled in her cheek. When she was satisfied, she popped each nut from her sucking lips, and dipped below them. My scrotum bridged her cute little nose, and her adventurous tongue poked the coiled center of my anus.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck!" I gasped.

She grinned against my rim. "Look at this cute little holy hole," she whispered. "It's all puckered like it's trying to kiss me. Should I give him a little kiss?"

"Fucking kiss it!" I groaned desperately.

"I don't know... his breath smells pretty bad..." her ears sleeked back mischievously. "But it's still better than yours."

She wrapped her lips around my coiled aperture, and slurped until I was swollen. As I moaned pathetically for her, she dipped her evil tongue into my center, and painted my spokes with her spit. One of her hands forked its fingers to gently divide my cheeks, and the other wrapped about my throbbing shaft, and stroked me slowly, lovingly, the caressing fingers admiring every vein and bump. Her tail wagged; her bunny-ears twitched in reaction to my every moan and gasp, perking and relaxing to alert me of her wicked little emotions. She hummed around her smiling suction, and pressed her tongue against my resistance until she broke through, slithering deep into my tight channel, tasting my filth from the source, feasting upon my insides until they were loose and gelatinous, swollen to the point that the slightest graze would set them alight. When my cock was pulsating in the imminence of eruption, she extracted herself, planted a parting kiss upon my opened anus, and inserted a finger in place of her tongue.

"That tasted... interesting," she said with a quirk of her lips.

"I can make it taste cherry flavor if you want."

"Nah, I like it organic." She licked her way up my shaft, wrapped her lips around my head, and looked up at me with those evil eyes. Spit leaked from her mouth, cascaded down my underside, and pooled between my wet balls. She took a breath through her nose, then consumed me in one gulp. I gasped, and so did she. Her eyes went wide, her bunny ears shot up, and her tail ceased its excited wagging. As I marveled with a moan upon the swallowing tightness of her throat, she narrowed her eyes accusingly at me, slowly pulled her way up, and popped my cock from her lips.

"You bastard," she whispered.

I smiled guiltily.

"You didn't give me a gag reflex?!"

"Seemed kind of pointless."

"And you made my throat an erogenous zone?! I don't want to come every time I eat a hotdog!"

"It only works with chocolate and penis. You know, your two favorite foods since I customized your palate."

Her eyes transformed into the terrifying compound oculars of a spider. "Any other Brandon-specific customizations you want to tell me about, dearest brother?"

"Your butthole is self-lubricating."

"That's what your tongue's supposed to be for." She gazed at me from those arachnid lenses, then giggled wondrously. "Bro, this is fucking wild. I can see the back of my own head."

"It's my favorite view."

She grew a massive pair of arachnid mandibles, and clicked them just above my cock. "Wanna say that again?"

"It's definitely my favorite view now."

She tittered, and discarded her arachnid visage for her beautiful human portrait. "I guess you're just not as freaky as me."

"You're clinically insane."

"You certainly have a type, don't you?"

"You know what they say about sticking your dick in crazy."

"You might not get it back?" Angela grinned, revealing two slithering serpent tongues that emerged from her mouth, lassoed my cock in a squelching hold, and sucked me in. The wriggling members constricted about me and pulled the pressure up my shaft as her plush lips hummed down my base, and rotated. Her blue eyes rolled back hedonistically, her throat swallowed with relish upon the length that was nestled so tenderly into her gullet, and her tongues slipped and lathered up the last thick column of my shaft, spiraling and pulsating to massage and taste every tangy inch.

Her eyes rolled forward, their depths wrought with pleasure, and she closed one in a teasing wink. Feeling carnivorous in her feeding, she exchanged her bunny ears for a feline pair, and her cottontail for a long tigress tail that swooshed dangerously and playfully behind her. I might've had a snide brotherly comment, but Angela seemed to steal the words right from my mouth with the movements of her own. She never once pulled up with her luxuriant lips, but kept them sealed and sucking about my base, rotating as she swallowed continuously, her twin tongues milking my shaft until it was twitching with pleasure, her fingers rubbing my prostate until it was bursting!

"Oh god, Angela!" I cried out and thrashed, and Angela stayed plastered to me, the wildness alight in her ravenous eyes, her back arching behind her, her tail wagging ardently, her other hand frantically delivering pleasure to her engorged clit as she sucked me, swallowed me, constricted and consumed me. With a cry of pure ecstasy, the pleasure lanced from my prostate, roiled in my balls, and exploded up my shaft. Angela's eyes rolled back in sybaritic splendor, and she drank gluttonously of me, her throat swallowing continuously to quench her thirst with my gouts of nectar. When she was done, she made an exaggerated show of sliding her lips up my shaft, her cheeks becoming hollow with the suction until they popped audibly with my exiting cock.

"I really like sucking you," Angela mused with a sly smile. "I like watching your helpless little face while I swallow you. Total power-trip."

"Why is that all the women I fuck want to dominate me?"

"You're just so fun to conquer," she sighed contentedly, resting my shaft alongside her face, looking back at me from one eye. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yup."

"Not gonna say anything back?"

"Not until I get anal."

"You could write a book on how to talk to women."

"Mom always said I don't have a sentimental bone in my body."

"Except for that time Julia fucked you in the ass."

"Pot, meet kettle."

Angela pouted her lips. "Why can't we just be lovey-dovey teenagers for once?"

I cupped her cheeks with both hands, and beamed at her. "Angela, you are more than my sister. You are my love, my heart, and my serenity. I would die for you a thousand times just for a chance to live with you one night."

She blushed to the roots of her hair, and screwed up her face bashfully. "I don't know how to react to that kind of emotional nakedness, so I'm just going to call you an asshole."

"That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," I smiled, and guided her up my body to engage in a passionate, loving kiss. When we parted, she was breathless, closing her eyes to save the residual love on her lips.

"That's it..." she whispered contentedly, "...that's what I wanted." Her eyes opened, and she gazed down at me. "I've got a surprise for you."

"I'm not sure if I want any of your surprises."

"You'll love this one," she grinned, her head sprouting a pair of naughty devil horns, a demonic tail flicking cunningly behind her. She slithered off the bed, and opened the bedroom door with a flourish. I was greeted to the sight of ten stunned faces.

"Y-Y-Y-Your Holiness!" Bianca stammered. She was the only Ofanian who didn't immediately avert her gaze, but her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. The other nine women suddenly became very interested in the floor. I pulled the bedsheet over my erection, and their gazes turned back to me, all their faces redder than brown.

"High Guard Blackwing, so good of you to join us!" Angela exclaimed.

"Angela, what the fuck are—"

"This was my request, Your Holiness," Bianca interrupted apologetically. "I felt that it was best to establish the changes early on. The Bound One believed that tonight would be the best time to... do... what must be done." Bianca took a tentative step into the room, and her nine subordinates followed. I recognized eight of them as officers in the Ofanian Guard, but the last one was a stranger to me. They were all statuesque, athletic and beautiful, with varying hour-glass figures to complement their musculature, and wooly braided hair to complement their golden-brown skin. Their golden-streaked white wings served to contrast their dark complexions, and the modest togas they wore seemed wholly out of place on their usually-armored bodies. Angela was dwarfed by the women who passed her, but she looked upon each with a predatory stare. I saw three of the captains tense their shoulders when the door shut behind them, and the girl I didn't recognize visibly shook. Their discomfort was not at all arousing to me, and I glared at Angela. She just stuck her tongue out at me, and walked beside Bianca.