The Creators Ch. 14

"Our daughters will be spawned from divinity!" Bianca pointed a finger at Nona like it was a sword. "They will carry his majesty within their blood for all time! They will celebrate us as heroes for making them of the direct line of Creation! You speak to me of shame?! While my god fills our bellies with daughters, your god is ash upon the Heat Bringer's wind! While Ofan serves with honor, you serve no one!"

Nona's sword was out like lightning, and Bianca's was out a fraction after.

"Stop it," Brandon groaned, stepping between them to referee the exchange.

Nona and Bianca sheathed their swords, and continued their contest of scowls.

"Nona came to inform Ofan that Freydis Skyborne has not yet returned to Iona. As such, Nona is acting High Guard," Brandon said. "We welcome Nona with open arms, and Nona will accept our welcome with grace and humility."

"No humility need be shown to these naked harlots!" Nona snarled. "I'd cut through them all without sustaining a scratch!"

"Try it!" Bianca roared.

"Stop!" Brandon yelled. "Just... stop. Nona, your blade would be as effective on their flesh as it was on my sister's. Bianca, keep your hand off your sword. Obviously Iona and Ofan don't get along, but we can at least have some manners."

"These black whores don't know what manners are!"

"Your god is dead, you old white crusty cunt!"

"I said, STOP!" Brandon roared.

Bianca went silent and still, but Nona just continued her death-glare.

"Freydis beseeched me to seek out the Heat Bringer," Nona said. "Tell me, does Julia Gendian yet live?"

"I'm sorry, Nona," Brandon said sadly. "She spent so much unbound power... there's just no way."

Nona's scowl cracked, and she bowed her head. "Then we are honor-bound to serve you, Your Holiness."

"Then come over here and serve me, High Guard!" Bianca sneered.

"I'll serve you your cock!"

"Not before I feed it to you!"

"How many fucking times do I HAVE TO SAY SHUT UP?!" Brandon yelled. "Nona, if you want to join the team, then you're just going to have to play second fiddle to the Ofanians, they—"

"I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN PUT MYSELF BENEATH AN OFANIAN!" Nona screamed, red with fury. "Your Holiness, I implore you to discard this trash for what it is, and claim a mantle worthy of you! I have two-thousand warriors behind me, and every one of them is better than the best these sows have to offer!"

Brandon flinched at her sudden outburst, and Nona paled at his reaction. She dropped to her knee, and bowed her head. "I apologize for interrupting you, Your Holiness," she muttered to the ground. "Please forgive my impudence, and the stain I have placed upon the Ionan Guard. You must understand that we are honor-bound to serve, that our entire lives are pledged upon our births. Please, Your Holiness; you are the last one left. Do not cast us away."

Brandon shook his head. "I'm sorry, Nona, but the Ofanians swore their loyalty to me, and have proved it under the direst of circumstances. If I don't return that loyalty, then my word means nothing."

"I understand," Nona said to the ground, a single tear running down her face. She got up on shaking legs, and walked away with her shoulders bowed toward the ledge. I caught her by the wrist, and smiled up at her when she looked questioningly down at me.

"So," I said, "you guys looking for someone to worship, eh?"

Nona cocked an eyebrow. "Bound Ones are held in reverence, but are not deified."

"Reverence is good enough for me."

"Angela, what are you doing?" Brandon asked.

I turned around, and gave him my best scowl. "There's more to life than living in a secluded sex-cult."

"There is?"

I snorted. "You're just like Mom and Dad. You would've stayed in Towerhead your whole life if given the choice." I turned back to Nona. "As fun as it is to eat black booty all day and get my clit sucked and my ass and pussy fucked—"

"Please, Bound One," Nona cringed.

"—I need more. So, what's it gonna be, High Guard? Are you gonna wait a few more thousand years for a mulligan, or are you gonna do something worth a damn?"

Nona studied me for a long time. "You must know, Bound One, that you do not hold the authority to make me supersede my oaths and vows. If you ask me to... suck your clit... I will refuse."

"We'll put a pin in that one for later."

"It's a definite 'no.'"

"I mean, who knows what tomorrow will bring, right?" I giggled at the scowling Nona, then looked back toward Brandon. "Toot-aloo, dearest brother."

Without looking, I stepped off the ledge, transformed into a great eagle, and spun freely in the air, savoring the way the wind caught my wings and lifted me. It was my first time flying, but I knew instinctively what to do. I flapped mightily, and the air pushed me towards the heavens, the sun glinting off my feathers in a silvery profile. Behind me, Nona struggled to keep pace, but she had no chance. I let out a teasing eagle screech, and soared over the mountains. Even from so many miles away, my keen eagle vision could make out the iconic shape of Iona in the distance. I raced toward it before Nona could catch up, hell-bent on making a grand introduction to the Ionan gentry before she could spoil the surprise. If I had known then what revelations awaited me atop that mountain, perhaps I would've savored my flight for just a little longer.

BRANDON

It was always a treat to watch Bianca make love like a man. She was extremely dominant, always asserting herself as the alpha, always wrestling her partners into submission before penetrating them. Once she had them pinned, she would thrust her spear into them until they surrendered with euphoric cries, and then she would no longer need to restrain their arms and legs, for they would do anything she asked with their eyes full of submission, and their gaping lips quivering about their pathetic sobs of delight. She was not like that with me. When I was feeling bisexual, Bianca would never allow me to be beneath her. She would insist upon wetting my anus with her lips and tongue, and she would hum as though my puckered hole tasted of candy. Only when she'd slobbered me to the point of saturation would she lie back onto the bed, cup my glutes in her strong hands, and slowly ease me down her long thick pole.

"Great Giver, you feel like heaven around me," Bianca breathed huskily into my ear. She made a lecherous throne of her lap, and I sat upon it, savoring her reaming heat pushing so deeply into me. Her soft breasts pillowed about my neck and the back of my head, her strong tummy pressed into my dorsal muscles, and her arms came around me in a protective hold, pinning me tenderly against her so that she could deliver long, gradual thrusts into me. Arya and Deja ran their plush lips and tongue along the sides of my shaft, kissing each other as they consumed me, while Alecia took her place beneath me, sensually sucking my drooping nuts as she delivered her fingers into Bianca's holes.

When Arya was done sucking my cock, she climbed atop my lap, straddled me, and took me deep into her gripping pussy. Her penis was small and rigid above her expanding defilement, and it curved back and leaked to alert me of her pleasure as she moaned all the way down my shaft. When her puffy labia smooshed wetly against my crotch, Deja moved behind her friend, and planted loving kisses up her collar and throat. Arya bowed her neck to relish the oral caress, then her moan heightened in pitch when Deja penetrated her anus. Arya's cock jolted with a spurt of release, and I felt Deja slide snugly alongside me, filling every vacancy with the young teenager's gripping pink depths, making her impossible tight. As her mother thrusted into me, so I thrusted into her, and Deja followed our rhythm, moving with torpid sensuality in this dance of sweet violation.

All around us, the other Ofanians moved with similar sensual movements. The mid afternoon sun cast golden rays through the windows, bathing the heaving brown flesh in hues of amber and tawny, casting dark writhing shadows upon the walls. Afroed hair comingled with braids as women exchanged their lips and tongues, their saliva bridging their mouths in strings that caught the light, their gold-streaked wings luminous in their creamy feathers. Sighs and moans filled the room, interrupted periodically by an intense orgasmic cry that waned and harmonized with the laziness of daytime. With the same languid motions as all the others, my partners and I came one after the other, filling each other, then sucking out the frothy cream.

I crawled into a secluded corner of my bed, and Bianca snuggled against me, framing my smaller body with her larger one, her cock nestled snugly between my cheeks.

"Thank you, Your Holiness," Bianca whispered to me.

"For what?"

"For rejecting the Ionans for my sake. I know you wanted them."

I smiled incredulously back at her. "Why would I want them?"

"They are renowned the world over for their skill in combat. Ofan is... less so."

"It's really a sore spot for you, huh?"

"Is our greatest source of shame."

"You know, the Towerhead baseball team is terrible. Like, ridiculously so. There are over three-hundred villages in Drastinar, and every one of them has a baseball team made up of local shop owners and farmhands. In a thirty-game season, Towerhead hasn't won a game for ten years. Three-hundred teams, Bianca; we lost to all of them."

"What is baseball?"

"Don't worry about it. The point I'm making, is that I wouldn't give up on my hometown team even if they're the worst. Why would I give up on Ofan just because they're not the best?"

Bianca frowned. "Ofan is much like your baseball team, Your Holiness, but we do not have three-hundred opponents. We have only one."

"You must've beaten them at least once in twelve-thousand years."

Bianca blushed.

"Not once? How?"

She cleared her throat. "To understand the history of the peaks, you truly only need to know of the First Flighted War. Iona and Breyta—the gods, not the warriors—had an argument over whose valkyries were the most skilled. Iona boasted that she had trained the greatest force in the world, and erected statues all over Balamora proclaiming the superiority of Ionan valkyries. In a drunken fit of jealousy, Breyta ordered her warriors to attack the Ionan valkyries to prove once and for all that Iona's claims were nothing but unproven bluster. The match was so even and the battle so vicious that the dead littered the mountainside in thousands of pieces. The High Guards of Breyta and Iona—Ikumi Kai and Hilde Skyborne—were the last ones left, and they fought until their wings were cut to ribbons and they had to duel on the ground. In the end, Hilde disarmed Ikumi, and Ikumi committed ritualistic suicide to preserve her honor."

Bianca shifted uncomfortably beside me, and continued her tale. "Breyta was so horrified by what had happened that she prohibited any of her future warriors from ever attacking another clan again. They would become pacifists for the rest of their days. Iona, however, saw how slim the margin of victory had been for her celebrated fighters, and realized that all of her pomp and pageantry had nearly cost her a great deal of pride. She decided that her warriors would need to be constantly tested to prove their superiority. She raised them to be violent, aggressive, and arrogant. They were always seeking enemies, someone to test their metal and mettle upon. They defeated armies orders of magnitude larger than themselves, they conquered nations without losing a single soldier, and they spread their fame across the world until no one would dare oppose them. They got bored. Ofan, the Life Giver of his time, raised his valkyries to be farmers and caretakers of the land.

They did not patrol the skies seeking enemies, but patrolled their mountaintop flocks. They did not thrust spears into dummies, but stabbed the earth with their spades. In the Second Flighted War, the Ionans came to Ofan, and massacred the entire guard. There was no warning, no reason behind it. They did it because we were too weak to be left alone, and the Breytans were too strong to provoke. Since that day, there have been seventy-nine wars between Ofan and Iona. The third war was a retaliatory attack by the daughters of the massacred Ofanian Guard. None of them returned home. The fourth war was retaliation for the third war, and the Ionans once again culled the Ofanian guard. The two clans went back and forth for generations until the next set of gods put an end to it. But there were many more wars after, and many more terrible losses. Much like your baseball team, Your Holiness, the Ofanians have never tasted victory."

"Fuck..." I muttered.

"Indeed," Bianca sighed. "We were molded into warriors out of necessity, but we were not born to be them. And so, Ofan is the afterthought of the peaks, perpetually lying in the shadow of the great Iona and the stoic Breyta."

I touched her lips, and smiled up at her. "But not this time, Bianca. This time, Iona goes home in shame while Ofan celebrates in the treetops. This time, you won."

"And more importantly, they lost," Bianca tittered. "Did you see the look on Nona's face?"

"Total rejection," I grinned, not sharing at all in Bianca's petty revelry, but enjoying her happiness.

"Oh, Great Creators," Bianca sighed pleasantly. "I sure hope your sister is giving those white devils all kinds of hell."

"I'm a white devil, Bianca."

"With this thing between your legs?" Bianca chuckled, rolling atop me and pressing her cock against mine, comparing their sizes. "I'd say there's some chocolate milk in your lineage, Your Holiness."

"Nope, nothing but whole-milk all the way back."

"Well, white devil," Bianca began kissing her way down my chest, "at least the future of your line will be much more colorful."

ANGELA

When Helga brought my starving and diseased best friend into the apothecary's temple, I hardly recognized her. She was so skinny that the youth had been sapped right from her face, and so riddled with bacteria that she radiated with miasma. My first thought was to rush to the top of Iona, gain line-of-sight with Ofan, and send a telepathic message across hundreds of miles to my brother. But of course, Brandon was undoubtedly ensconced in pussy, not standing on the peak of a mountain waiting on the off-chance that his sister needed to send him an emergency message at three in the morning. So I rushed back down to the apothecary, where Doctor Rita Vikingmoon (yes that is her real fucking name) was about to chop Justina's leg off. I transformed into a bear, pushed her against the wall, mounted the bed, grew a dick, and began fucking my unconscious and disease-riddled friend before the horrified faces of Helga, Nona, and Rita.

"Bound One, what are you doing?!" Helga screamed.

"She needs sperm, you idiots!" I yelled, but what came out was, "RARR ROH RA RARRRRR RARA," so I changed my body back (kept the bear dick) and repeated my explanation as I thrusted for all I was worth. The three valkyries could only stand there and get traumatized as I pumped and jackhammered my way to orgasm after orgasm, but no matter how much cum I dumped in my cum-dumpster friend, she didn't get better. The explanation became obvious to me after my fifth exhausting expulsion.

"I'm shooting blanks!" I lamented to the sky. "Brandon you greedy bastard!"

"Get off her!" Doctor Rita Vikingmoon growled, proffering her bone-saw.

"Where do you keep your sperm?!" I demanded.

"What?!"

"Sperm! I need lots and lots of sperm!"

"This is a female colony, you idiot!" Rita yelled.

"You breed horses, don't you?"

"Great Creators above!" Nona gasped.

"I will get it, Bound One!" Helga yelled, and with one mighty flap of her wings, launched herself through the moon window.

I spent the next five minutes fending off Rita and her bone-saw before Helga burst back through the ceiling with a barrel under her arms. I snatched the barrel, pried open the lid, and nearly barfed. The most pungent and rank aroma to ever grace my nostrils filled my sinuses, sent tears into my eyes, and for some reason I didn't want to think too much about, got me really, really wet. I plunged my hand into the viscous fluid, scooped as much of it as I could into my palm, and then shoved my entire fist right up Justina's ass. Helga fainted, Nona gagged, and Rita just gawked at me.

"Well?!" I yelled at the doctor. "Are you going to just stand there?! Help me stuff this bitch!"

And so Rita donned her leather surgical gloves, and inseminated Justina's little pussy with her fist. Nona vomited, and I took another fistful of stinking hot sperm, pretended not to enjoy the texture dripping between my fingers, and rammed another load up Justina's colon. Her eyes fluttered open, and her fevered white gaze writhed around the ceiling.

"Justina!" I screamed. "Justina, it's me!"

Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, but they settled on me. "I'm dead," she muttered. "Oh fuck, the afterlife is real! I'm in hell, aren't I? This is what I get for pretending to know everything!"

"You're not dead! You're in Iona!" I yelled, shoving another fistful of horse gravy up her poop-chute. "But you need to stay with me, Justina!"

"Angela?" she tried to focus her eyes, but she couldn't. "You're not a ghost? You're bound? But... you're dead. You died with everyone else in Drastin. I'm dreaming. If I just close my eyes, maybe I'll go to a happier dream... one with my mommy."

"Stay with me!"

"What are you doing to me?" she mumbled.

"I'm giving you an equestrian enema. This is Doctor Rita Vikingmoon—yes that is her real name—and she's trying to make you pregnant with Pegasus."

Justina blinked rapidly, a dense yellow film sheening her eyes. "Angela," she croaked, "you need to administer it orally."

I proffered the barrel. "Open your mouth as wide as you can."

"No," she coughed horrifically, "you need to administer it from your mouth to mine. Hurry!"

Without a second thought, I scooped up a fat dollop of steaming horse jizz, and poured it into my mouth. If I had a gag reflex, I would've vomited it all over my poor friend. Instead, I had to deal with the disturbing realization that after a while, it actually didn't taste too—goddamn it, enough of the equestrian erotica! I pressed my mouth to Justina's lips, and passed the load between us. She drank it desperately, then left my lips with a rattling croak.

"Angela," she murmured, her voice waning.

"I'm right here, Justina!" I cried.

She opened her chapped and cracked lips, and whispered with her fading breath, "I can't believe you fell for that, you fucking dumbass." Then she closed her eyes, and began snoring.

Eight hours later, I was seated next to her bed, administering her spoonful after spoonful of horse gravy as she recounted everything that had transpired between the cataclysm and her capture by Helga. Nona, Helga and Rita sat in solemn silence, their pale faces becoming ghostly white the more information Justina revealed. When she was done, the room was in silence.

"How did this happen?" I whispered, breaking the silence. "How does a new god just... appear?"

"I don't know," Justina muttered.

"There is a lineage," Nona said. "The Gods all carry a common impurity in them."

"Incubus," Justina said, "we figured that one out already."

Nona nodded. "It is so diluted now that it is hardly expressed, but it said that Iona, Ofan and Breyta were all of white hair and fair features."

"Would also explain Brandon's massive cock," I muttered, and the valkyries all pretended not to hear it.

"Only Diamond knows the answers," Justina said. "She went behind Corruption's door, and we lost her."