A single green and grey hued arm reaches for her core and the Simurgh knows real fear. She tries to break her bonds, struggles wildly, to scream someone below into a tool, anything. She does not want to die.
And she makes headway. The arm slows, begin to moves back, hair trembling and snapping under the sheer focussed force she brings to bear. Hope.
Then — a flash of a future where she fails — lips parted, swallowed into Second Sister's substance, long high keening noises piercing through the ether in place of communication sensation everywhere, and a rising pressure within —
One moment of hesitation is all it takes for the arm to shoot forward and grab her core.
She is — was — will be — blind in darkness and shimmering bindings of lack of sensation for an eternity. Unable to move or think in that stifling nothingness that weighed upon her. Is this death? Has she — had she —
She woke up — woke, woke woke not wakes, how? — to chilling sensation. Her sight of the threads was gone, as was her grasp on objects. In its place sat awkward new senses — limited recognition of sections of electromagnetic spectrum when reflected from objects and a translation matrix to interpret them, vibration detectors, pressure sensors across the surface of her flesh. She could feel her bones underneath the thing grafted to them. She saw the present. Experienced it.
Saw an endless expanse of black, Second Sister floating before her, one pudgy arm still outstretched from a bloated third body. The maker of beasts. She had considered visiting his city if only for the quandary it would present Father.
Her new body was a beast, then. Soft marble, impossibly pale. She could see veins — veins, arteries, feel the dull throb of true blood through her — tracing underneath her skin. It prickled uncomfortably, feathers bristling as she felt shivers like something had taken each square millimetre of skin and gently tugged at it. This focused on the normally unnecessary lumps on her chest — their peaks rose into agonising stiffness in the blackness. She wrapped her arms and wings around herself, curling legs up to try and minimise surface area, but that merely exposed her rear to more of that chill.
It was just a sensation of the lack of kinetic energy in her surroundings. Why did it effect her so?
The place between her legs seemed unnecessarily sensitive as well, tingling with a bizarre heat despite the cold which spread up across her lower body and up over her cheeks. She felt her tongue run across her teeth, felt the way her wings moved against each other. It was very similar to her true body but with these strange senses, and sensitivity. She knew somehow that that pressure against her skin would reveal it to be yielding, rather than the solidity she was used to.
Second Sister drifted closer, and she tried to pull back in the silence. But there was nothing to generate motion from, and the rippling hairs of her skirt and those four tangled arms grasped her firmly. One entwined braid of brownish flesh-like colour from the maker of beasts and green from Father wrapped itself round her new neck, rolling against it. The pressure from each individual fibre as they rolled against her caused this body to shake with some strange feeling building inside.
The arms held her, running across her limbs, a rolling wave of fingers against her skin. The hold gave her traction, and she tried to pull away, but a skittering wave of grey hair ends trickled across her chest and her body's response to this left her shaking and unable to move. More of Second Sister's body unravelled, threads spilling across her upper legs and torso and pulling her closer to those three impassive faces.
One hand split, wrapping itself like a tornado around one of the lumps on her chest, and she felt it twirl, felt her flesh give and yield to that touch. A slow prickling burn. At some point her mouth had fallen open and now hairs crawled across it, rubbing at the corner of her lips, over her tongue, braiding and unbraiding themselves. The hairs around her neck reached up to blend with her own hair and run over her scalp, down and forming tiny hands to caress her cheeks, all while still rubbing against her neck.
A single roll of flesh was caught between two groups of threads and pulled out and worked between them. Her body leaned into that grasp, desperate for more, and Second Sister obliged, pulling again and again at the soft flesh of her neck.
The hair traced over her stomach — she could feel it in that instant, a shifting web of green web of lattices tightening and loosening against her skin in one fractal pattern after another as the ends bristled up her spine, wrapping around her joints of her wings and stroking them. It was —
Her body arched, almost out of control, trying to press itself more securely into Second Sister's grasp, but her hairs retreated, maintaining the same gentle pressure.
Then the hair around her upper legs began to move and the Simurgh went crazy. Like the satisfaction of seeing one of her plans roll to inevitable fruition with the anticipation of something going awry. Devastating. She thrashed, mouth working on the hairs, trying to do something, anything.
PLEA.
A sensation of mirth from Second Sister. Then, sardonic, EAGERNESS.
PLEA. PLEA!
Still the hairs only teased her. Surely there was something she could do to make Second Sister finish giving her that sensation, to make it escalate — and it could escalate, she knew that from that vision of the thread with her open mouthed and wrapped in Second Sister's body. A delicious thought of that being her only future struck her, forever wrapped in a net of her sister's rubbing body and at it the warmth only rose higher.
WORTHLESS. Mocking. She agreed, desperate. Anything. INUTILE. Yes, Father, yes she was, she was good for nothing but this, trembling wings and aching limbs, yes, yes —
COMMAND.
Whuh?
COMMAND!
The Simurgh reached for an anomaly. ApOLoGy. She sent it as loud as she could. aPolOGy. APolOGyaPOLogYAPolOG —
The hairs tightened over her, squeezing her in a wave from head to toe and she shook with it. More hands grasping at her chest, threads taught over her peaks, plucking and playing them, hair running down the back over the joints where her legs met body, kneading and pulling at her flesh even as ripples of hair rolled up her thighs.
Then —
The sensitive area at the top of her legs. Firm, pressed against her. She thrashed, trying to drive the hair closer than simply brushing it. Tiny finger pushing and pressing against her, coiling and rubbing and stroking and and and —
The hair began to pull tight, pulling her in to the mass of hair that made up Second Sister's main body. She lay limp, eyes rolled up, barely able to see. More hair, running over her tongue in her mouth and prickling down into her throat. Tight across her chest, pulling and plucking. Her neck. Her back. Her rear. Her legs.
And then she felt the hairs pull apart the lips, rubbing over them and inside them and against sliding in, she could feel the thin strands wriggling inside, pressing and rubbing against ridges she hadn't even known were in there, and meanwhile more hair was rubbing her, she was almost completely inside Second Sister now, Father's face still level with hers, and that somehow made it even better. The pleasure just rose and rose and rose, and there was a tightness to her muscles now, even as the grip relaxed enough for her to writhe like she wanted to, bucking and twisting. Nothing could be better than this, not being a worthy opponent for Father, not killing the Beast, nothing but being in Second Sister's all consuming grasp.
WoRsHiP. It slipped from her almost of her own accord, and as it did she felt something slide through her, intersecting her flesh as if it wasn't there. Second Sister's core. What —
And then it touched her core and she knew nothing except blinding pleasure. At some point her sight of the threads returns, but she is immersed in a soaking portion of the tapestry of fate where all there is is her own pleasure. The anomaly traps her in a loop, perpetually rising on the peak of something fantastic and never able to reach it over and over again. She is screaming, her true scream as loud as she can, over and over again, and inside it is that message — WoRShipWORSHipworshiPWORSHIPWORSH —
The anomaly ends and her scream echoes across the earth as the Simurgh shudders in orgasm.
* * *
Many miles away, on the surface of the planet below, a number of humans (and some animals) were disturbed by a sudden faint echo, as of a million voices crying out in bliss and being suddenly silenced. Over the next few days, a number would have erotic dreams about worms, snakes, tentacles, or in one case the parahuman Garotte.
All of them would feel uncomfortably turned on by images of the new Endbringer, Tohu. None could say exactly why they felt so short of breath on seeing her, or they began to pant like dogs in heat, but they did.
Most of them died when Scion went nuts anyway. The general consensus was that it wasn't anything to worry about. But, returning to the present of our narrative...
* * *
The being known as Bohu had received First Sister's incoherent apology. What had her pair-half done to reduce her to such? She was — as much as she was capable — grateful. But she was always grateful for her pair-half.
A distortion, and she returned. So much smaller, yet so much stronger.
Currently her faces were a purple suited figure with a jester hat, a silver masked individual in a suit and tie and a figure in green and yellow hood. The overall impression was — SMUG.
GRATITUDE. Then she felt the substances on her pair-half's body and couldn't help but feel a moment of apprehension, jealousy and loss. Surely, having tasted First Sister, her pair-half wouldn't want tall, awkward, gawky, useless —
QUERY. Her pair-half's voice was insistent, tendrils coiling round one of her stick arms.
JUDGEMENT?
A snort, or equivalent. FOOLISHNESS. TOGETHER.
Space itself twisted to embrace her pair-half and pull her closer. Bohu twisted to —
EXTREMITIES! she sent, as quickly as she could.
Mirth from her pair-half, and a lack of ceasing of said impropriety. It was a long time before either of them were at all ready for anything other than each other.
The Funny Thing About Causality
(Автор: Troutfish2333)
Funny thing about causality. When your mother kills one of the beings holding it together you come to understand that it's more a suggestion than anything else.
My name's Aaron. I love my family. More than anyone else in the worlds. So when I see my mother, Taylor "Goddess of The Gold Morning" Dalton, flinch if someone approaches her to fast, or the shaking if she's close to a locker and someone's not there to watch her back for her I get curious.
So I ask around a bit.
The first time I'm six years old and I go to aunt Lisa. She has a hard time keeping secrets my aunt Lisa. Can't lie about them either. But I learn that day that for somethings, she won't open up like at all. Even two dozen of her favorite chocolate strawberries from a diner down the street from my house.
Not many know mom from before she settled on Earth Yu I spend a lot of the next ten years or so trying to find out as much as I can about her. no one knows much the best I get is that just before she Triggered mom was bullied. My mom is Awesome. She has a smile for everybody. I'm told she hasn't always like this. But all that I've known her she's tried to make sure everyone she loves. Knows it.
Who in their right mind would want to Hurt her!
And considering what she's done. Who in their right mind would even want to try!
It's around my fourteenth birthday that I go to Aunt Aisha and Uncle Alec's. They love to tell stories about mom, and Aunt Lisa, and Uncle Brian too! But, they won't talk about it either. I mean, I half expected something bad when Aunt Lisa wouldn't talk of it. but even if it left me a little pissed off for moms sake I expected to hear about it in some form of tasteless detail from Aunt and Uncle A.
There was really only one Avenue left to me after that. Some might immediately Think "Oh your going to talk to Aunt Rachel!" No. She holds mom's secrets better than mom does. I have no intentions of cleaning dog poop at one of her shelters for a full day. Ever. Again.
Nope. One the night before my seventeenth birthday I went to Aunt ("I prefer 'Auntie' Dear.") Emma. This was a mistake. At the time I didn't even know what I'd done!
We talked for a while. Auntie Emma loves to just chat "How's your mom and dad, Grandpa, School". All of that stuff y'know. Anyway time passed and I asked about the flinching and her avoidance of large lockers.
Auntie Emma's face goes bleach white.
Have you ever seen in movies when someones eyes are just swimming with tears, but they aren't quite there yet. That's Auntie Emma in that moment. Just as the Tears start to fall, the first sob sorta seems to crash through her. Uncle Dennis hears it from some where in the house and comes Hurtling around the doorway into the living room. He Just sits there holding her for a while.
"What Happened love? Sh sh sh, it's all right."
"No NoOh God. I'msorryI'mSorry"
"Shhh Ems. She forgave you a long time ago."
"Well She Fucking SHOULDN'T HAVE!" I'm sort of backing up now and Uncle Dennis sort of looks at me. The sort of look that's all "I don't blame you. but maybe head out. I think we may need a bit of time." I don't like hurting anyone and It Seems I've really opened up an old wound, so yeah I get going real fast. Just as I'm easing out of the front door though.
"He said she starts Shaking, Dennis! She Still Fu-fuc-fucking sh-sh-shakes!" I close the door to the sound of quite possibly the most broken sobbing I've ever had the misfortune to hear.
It eats at me. For years. There's a whole length of my Moms history that seems to be nothing but Scar Tissue on Every one that I love's psyche. It gnaws and gnaws and gnaws. I sometimes don't sleep at night for it.
I wake up on my seventeenth birthday with the schematics for a Moped powered by a collapsing black hole, No I don't get that one either, Some kind of ice ray that works by creating micro black holes to reduce the ambient temperature to a bare few degrees off from absolute zero. Also a time machine... Powered by two black holes colliding.
Unexpected.
I start making plans immediately.
It takes a year.
It takes a lot of time and effort.
It takes a Break up with my girlfriend,
It takes three part time jobs and a registered patent on some sort of black hole power plant schematic.
In the end though It doesn't matter. I have a time machine. I might as well be Gandalf. I will Be there precisely when I fucking mean to be. For now though I have to find out just when there is anyway.
