v2 CHAPTER TEN: (18+) In which resistance to fate takes numerous forms: lascivious, mettled and ordained.

Len Samuels swerved and braked on instinct when the figure crashed out of the bushes onto the highway in front of him. He saw it for a moment as his sedan fishtailed and spun onto the road’s gravel shoulder: a shaggy form running on two legs but covered with hair down its back and legs. Len heard a thump as his car came to a stop; after a moment, he craned his neck with wide eyes, searching the road.

Shit! Did I hit something? Nothing was in sight—no sign of the thing he’d seen. Len got out to peer around in the morning light and walked around to the front of his vehicle. Maybe I was just seeing things, he hoped.

“Hello?” His voice sounded more nervous than usual. He saw a flash of movement to his right, and then a powerful arm slammed him onto the hood of his sedan, driving the breath from his lungs.

“Hello, mortal,” said the archdemon of control. “You will do as I say.” Len Samuels’ terror was such that he scarcely needed supernatural reinforcement to nod. Nezz sneered, his bestial teeth coated with slaver. “Good. Now, take your clothes off and fold them neatly.”

Fifteen minutes later, Len walked peacefully up through the hills, entirely naked and feeling strangely light. He looked down at his arms—thin and bony. Those aren’t my arms, are they? He was a little overweight. Needed to hit the gym. That strange man did something… took something from me. Afterwards, the stranger had looked less shaggy, more like an ordinary person… with the build of an NFL offensive tackle.

He looked a little like me, Len thought through the haze of his instructions, which kept his legs moving. But why would that be? It was easier not to think. He had to keep climbing. Maybe he’d find what he was looking for over the next ridge. Find a nice high cliff, the man had told him before driving away in Len’s car, and throw yourself off it.

***

Maria hesitated before unzipping the bus driver’s pants. “Hey,” she asked, gazing up at him with lowered eyes. “My throat’s a little sore. Is it okay if I just, you know… ride your cock like a pony?” She scratched an itch at her hairline and tilted her head to regard the man.

The driver just nodded, his eyes wide as he fumbled with his belt buckle, adjust himself in the wide back seat of his bus. His name was Bill, or at least that’s what the stitched-on nametag on his jacket said. Nametags, badges… pretty handy if you’re observant, thought Maria. She unbuttoned her own denim shorts and kicked them off, then lifted a leg to straddle Bill’s lap.

The first bus hadn’t stopped, nor the second. But when she jumped up and down, waving at the third bus—an empty charter with sleek black windows—the driver, Bill, pulled off the main highway near Officer Kelsoe’s motorcycle.

“Thank you so much,” she’d cooed at the highway patrolman. “I can take it from here.” He seemed uncertain. Though he’d agreed to take her to the highway to flag down a bus, her explanations had baffled him.

“You’re going to hire a charter bus because your van broke down? What about the repair place you called?” She just leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek, which reddened his fair skin predictably.

“Backup plan,” she explained. “I think we might pick up some new parishioners!” Without another word, she trotted lightly up to the bus door to knock at it. Maria’s negotiations with the bus driver had gotten a little more involved. The bus was empty; he was on the way to the company garage, but there was no rush. Then their talk gradually veered towards sexual favors just as Bill’s gaze had roamed further and further down her body.

“Mmmm, Bill,” Maria murmured, “What have we here? You’re all ready…” She reached down into his open pants, grasping his hardening cock through his boxer briefs. The bus driver gasped and thrust his hips against her hand, and she stroked him slowly as she leaned closer to his ear. “Let’s see how well this fits, shall we? Seems nice and snug…”

Maria shifted her weight onto Bill’s lap, guiding his cock between her legs. She ground her hips against him, making sure he felt the wet heat of her arousal as she pushed her thong aside with her fingertips and eased herself down on his cock. God, she thought, I love having a pussy. She still liked it in the ass sometimes, but there was nothing like filling the ache she felt between her legs when she wanted sex. I was missing this most of my life, and now I’m going to make the most of it.

With a sudden plunge, Maria impaled herself on the bus driver’s cock, letting out a sigh as she savored the tight friction of his hard flesh rubbing the walls of her cunt. Bill moaned in shock, his arms flailing for a moment as he thrust reflexively upwards with his hips.

Maria didn’t waste any time, gripping his shoulders and raising herself up again, sinking down with a sharp grunt. That’s it, that’s how I want it, she thought, leaning forward to brace herself against his chest. She pushed the soft flesh of her tits into his face as she rocked against him. “C’mon, Bill… fuck me,” she said.

He obeyed enthusiastically, grabbing her hips and holding her steady as he drove himself up into her with frantic thrusts. “Jesus, lady…” he gasped, “What kind of church camp counselor are you?”

She smirked down at him with a catty smile, tensing her shoulders as she gyrated and squeezed his cock with her pelvic muscles. “I worship at the altar of lust… in the church of Fuck Me Harder, Bill… so do it!” she whispered in his ear, grinding against him. He obeyed.

***

“Your expression tells me you’ll be more obedient than this one,” said Sister Mary Elizabeth, scornfully indicating Una with a toss of her wimpled head. Indeed, Susan’s expression looked curiously calm, though not as blank-faced as when she’d drunk Una’s nectar of control.

“Take off your clothes, young one,” the nun continued. “I’ll judge your suitability as a nubile maiden.” Mary Elizabeth circled Susan. “Hurry now! You’ve nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Susan nodded slowly and unbuttoned her blouse. She wore a simple white cotton bra underneath, the brown of her nipples and areolae clearly visible through the fabric. She slipped out of her shoes, then her pants, dropping them on top of her blouse. Now she stood in front of the nun dressed only in her bra and underwear, which were similarly simple and white, without lace or decoration.

Mary Elizabeth stepped closer and peered at Susan, as if inspecting her skin for blemishes. A slow smile spread across her lips. Then she reached out with one hand and ran her fingers lightly over Susan’s cleavage. Susan shivered under her touch.

“As I thought. A good girl… but with a very bad girl inside. Tell me, Susan Miller. What is your most wicked thought?”

“I want to kill you,” said Susan immediately. “I’d like to split your skull open, slowly and painfully, in a vise… and catch your blood and brains spilling onto my hands. I’ll end you, the way you tried to end me.” Her voice was steady and clear. Susan often sounded like that: calm and matter-of-fact about the most shocking things.

Mary Elizabeth clucked her tongue. “Not what I meant, little goose. I don’t care about your rage, your violent streak. I know you have a slutty side. Tell me how you’re naughty, in bed.”

Susan flushed slightly, but her voice remained calm. “I like any kind of sex, slow and loving or wild, but I really like rough sex. I like to be taken hard and raw, sometimes by more than one lover, because I like my holes filled and punished. I want all the irregulars… girls with cocks and boys with toys, and I like to lick cunt and suck cock. I like to swallow. I like to obey my mistress, helplessly.”

The young woman’s mouth curved into a faint smile when she noticed that the nun staring at her. “That’s just part of what turns me on. Should I continue? I enjoy it when my partners get off… and they’ve been into many things.”

Mary Elizabeth frowned and studied Susan carefully for several long seconds before speaking again. “If you were one of mine, child—if we joined in unison—you would learn to seek pleasure beyond mere carnal release. You would know the path of genuine femininity in your essence and soul, instead of simply acting like a man. Men crawl after whatever wanton pleasure strikes their fancy. You will need discipline to grow.”

She stroked Susan’s cheek gently with her fingertips. “But you will do, and more than do. Will you become my Maiden?”

Susan stood still for a long time. Una couldn’t help but stare at her, not least because she was held in place, immobilized and gagged by Mary Elizabeth’s summoned chains. She couldn’t quite understand what was happening to Susan, but somehow the cursed witch had bound her just as securely, if not tangibly.

Una watched as Susan shook her head. “I may not.”

Mary Elizabeth scoffed, her nose wrinkling. “You may not? Why on earth not?”

“My mistress has not permitted it.” Now Susan’s eyes found Una’s for a moment, and the succubus felt a momentary thrill of triumph run through her, from tip to tail.

“Poppycock!” Mary Elizabeth looked angry again. “Your depraved bedroom contracts have no sway in the secret layers of the world. Answer me a different question then, and be honest. Would you walk this path to gain knowledge and power? They are one and the same. I sense your hunger, Susan Miller.”

She peered closely at the still-silent scholar. “I name thee and adjure thee, with thy double name, known to me as thy true name: Susan Miller, Sunghi Choi. Answer my question.”

Susan swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. I seek knowledge and power.” Una gazed down at her from her entrapment, shocked at Susan’s words. What does this mean? She’s agreeing… to work with this monster? Had Susan always wanted… something like this?

“Then it shall be so. Kneel here and accept my blessing.” Mary Elizabeth raised her hands and pressed them against Susan’s shoulders. The nun closed her eyes and let out a breath that made her wrinkled cheeks puff outward slightly. As if pressed downwards, Susan kneeled before the matronly woman.

When Mary Elizabeth opened her eyes again, they gleamed a deep green—not any shade found in an ordinary human eye, but a deeper hue, almost emerald. Her gaze fixed on Susan as she intoned. “In the name of our Mother Goddess Eostre, Demeter, Ningal, I bless thee with three sacred gifts of the triple mysteries of life: mind, body, spirit. May your true potential sprout and fulfill, three-in-one, may your body blossom forth to fullest potential, one-in-three.”

Una felt something wrench inside of her as Susan’s body stiffened. It felt as if someone were pulling her hair out from inside of her skull.

“No!” she cried out—but the metal band over her mouth muffled her desperate protest. The painful tugging sensation continued. Now it was as if one of her limbs wrenched out of her socket—a limb that was neither arm, leg nor tail, but an appendage she didn’t know she had. Una watched with fascination and horror as Susan’s body changed… or as the nun had described it, blossomed.

When Una had first met Susan, she’d barely noticed the girl at all: a mousy, quiet woman who looked young for her age. Then their relationship shifted, along with Una’s body and sexual awareness. Yael’s possession levered open new possibilities. As Father Michael gradually gave way to Micki, a woman transforming into a succubus, she’d grown all too aware of her assistant’s sexual hungers. She’d noticed repeatedly how Susan’s body was maturing into womanly curves.

Now the body she’d loved for months transformed in ways Una would never have expected. Susan’s breasts grew larger and fuller, straining the fabric of her bra until the straps and seams popped. Her skin darkened from smooth and pale to bronzed and lustrous, while her nipples slipped out as they grew longer and increasingly plump.

Susan’s hips widened out even as her waist thinned, giving her a pronounced hourglass figure. Her buttocks swelled outwards and rounded as they grew, still protruding high on her hips in heavy, perfect spheres. Susan’s slim calves and thighs thickened and grew fleshy and full. Above, her breasts had grown enough that most of their flesh spilled out of her bra—until that bra snapped in the middle, falling away. Once the size of peaches, her tits now swayed like ripe musk melons. The simple cotton of her underwear tore away as well, leaving her naked and swollen.

Susan moaned aloud—and then screamed. Una winced—the sound echoed unnaturally loud in her head. A crack echoed through the room, the precise sound of a thunderbolt, accompanied by a ripple of force that emanated from Susan. The unseen torrent knocked Mary Elizabeth off her feet; an instant later, the chains that bound Una vanished as if smoke blown by wind. She fell to the floor.

Free but stunned, Una turned to stare at Susan. Her lover rotated in the air silently, golden light streaming from her eyes and mouth. Flakes of shimmering yellow-white energy drifted outwards, spiraling around her in the air. Mary Elizabeth sat up on the other side of the room, trying to get to her feet, but the invisible gusts of force pushed her back towards the far wall.

“You trespass once more, witch of the junction.” Susan intoned the words in a hollow voice that echoed as if she spoke in a much larger room. She extended a finger to point at Mary Elizabeth. “This entity lies subject to claim, as herald and messenger. You may not bind her to your service, nor to that of any goddess.”

“You have no right,” Mary Elizabeth whispered hoarsely. Again, she struggled to stand but failed—her joints were suddenly creaking and popping as if her limbs had been long immobilized. Beads of sweat broke out on her brow. “You cannot accuse me of this! I harmed her not, hierarchs! Seed or no seed, she remains a human girl, and serves none!”

Susan seemed to grow further, her presence filling the room. Her arms and legs were larger now, her whole body growing and rippling with muscle. The tone of her skin resembled polished bronze and her abdominal muscles stood out, taut beneath the skin of her belly. Una felt a strange coldness seep through her, an alien manifestation of power that made her skull ring. The edges of her vision grew dark, blindness swimming into her.

“This one is not yours to claim,” said Susan. “The authority names you: breaker of covenant. Seek not to loose the triune lace of the Dread Seal.”

“No!” cried Mary Elizabeth. “No, I have not—you cannot—”

The light streaming from Susan grew in intensity; Una crouched, her head still ringing. This strange, bitter sense of fear was not new; she had felt it once before, seen these colors that were not colors, heard this ringing from nowhere. Those had been the moments just before and after Susan ingested a drop of golden light—just like the light that streamed from her now.

The fabric of Susan’s discarded clothing warped, reweaving itself into wide ribbons of creamy silk. The new, mystically woven strands fluttered around her, coiling and curling across her limbs.

Mary Elizabeth fell to the floor and curled into a tight ball. She wept quietly, muttering in her ancient tongue and clutching her head.

Una rose unsteadily. The ringing had subsided to a dull throbbing in her temple. Susan, the floating apparition of gold and bronze that looked like a voluptuous, super-charged version of Susan, rotated towards her in the air. Her eyes were completely golden in hue and emitted light that stung Una’s senses. Thick strands of white now streaked her once-black hair, falling around her shoulders in thick, wavy locks that had once been stick-straight.

“I remain… your servant, mistress.” With those words, Susan—the woman who had been Susan and hopefully still was—collapsed with a sigh. Una barely caught her as the last of the golden light faded from her eyes.

“I… I only wished… to be with you,” Susan said in her beautiful, ordinary voice, and her eyes closed.

***

John flung himself over a low hanging tree branch as the manticore crashed into the undergrowth behind him. He had to put a trunk between him and it—or maybe he could scramble up into the higher branches. Just get to the trees, he thought in a panic. Same as climbing a fence or a wall to get away from thugs chasing me down an alley. His heart hammered; sweat poured down his brow beneath the brim of his hat and ran along his jawline to drip from his chin.

He heard a scream behind him—one of the two girls—and looked over his shoulder just as the huge cat-like monster leaped forward to attack again. He flinched to the side in time, and its enormous claws tore through his jacket and shirt, barely missing his flesh. The weight of the thing carried it past him, but the manticore wouldn’t let him get away easily.

With a terrifying roar, it turned to leap after him again—so John did something he hoped it wouldn’t expect. As the manticore came crashing towards him, he dropped to the ground and rolled forward, directly at its paws. The creature’s massive bulk hurtled overhead, through the point where he’d just been standing. It tried to turn on its forelegs and stumbled to regain its balance.

John scrambled quickly back on his feet and sought cover behind the nearest tree as the manticore rounded on him again. Its eyes glittered red in the dapples of sunlight as it reared back on its haunches, preparing for another strike.

John didn’t wait; he was already running full tilt for the next tree as the creature swiped, then took off after him again. This time, he was ready. Reckless, stupid, sure—but ready.

Just when the animal was about to spring, John dove at it again, grabbing onto one of its forelegs with both hands as it passed overhead. He somehow managed to grab the fur just above the claws. The monster’s weight was incredible, too heavy to throw or do more than nudge off-balance, but his leverage against the ground was enough.

For a second, the manticore flailed wildly as it fought to escape John’s grasp while trying to turn its head around to bite at him with its powerful jaws. Then its weight carried the beast past John, into the trunk of an old oak.

John couldn’t stop to see whether he’d slowed the beast down at all. He took off at a run, leaping over roots and fallen branches. The clearing was ahead of him again; he’d circled around without realizing it.

John ran faster than he remembered moving since his days of high school track. He dared to glance back, and found the manticore a happy distance behind him, weaving through the trees but gaining on him. He burst into the clearing and sprinted towards the low outcropping of rock on the far side. Boulders littered the ground at the far edge of the expanse; if he could make it to one of those before the manticore closed on him, he might climb out of easy reach.

The old man he’d seen earlier still stood near the outcropping. Why didn’t they run away while I was distracting it? John cursed inwardly. The guy looked for all the world like a wizened scarecrow, wearing an institutional gray sweat suit. He gestured with his hands, as if lifting something up, and yelled something in a language John didn’t recognize.

When John reached the first of the large rocks jutting in jagged peaks from the ground, he jumped and grabbed onto a natural handhold to keep from falling. Behind him, he heard the manticore roaring; twisting his head around as his feet found purchase on the rock, John saw that the previously firm earth beneath him had somehow… melted?

The ground now sank into a bog of mud and treacherous water. The manticore slogged up to its knees in the dank, viscous slime. With each step it took, the beast seemed to sink deeper. Magic? The thought flashed through John’s head. If it gets stuck, could it be vulnerable enough…?

Then he saw the girl—the redhead who’d screamed earlier. To her great misfortune, she also struggled through the new swamp, dangerously close to the manticore’s thrashing limbs. The old man cursed, hopping from one patch of dry ground to another in an attempt to reach her.

He wasn’t fast enough. The manticore would get there first… unless John did something. He shook his head. You’re a damn fool, John Hayes. What kind of idiot runs right at a monster… then dives into a swamp with the monster? He could hear what his mother would say, or his sister. But they weren’t here; one little girl was.

But how I can I help her? He couldn’t… not unless he could lure the thing away from her long enough for the old man to grab her. There was only one way he could imagine. John Hayes took a flying leap off the rock and crashed into the brackish water.

The force of gravity combined with his weight sent him ankle-deep into the mud. John lifted his leg, trying to regain movement, but the manticore was almost upon him by the time he pulled his right foot out. The length of the beast’s tail lashed at him; its center section knocked him like a broadside, sending him sprawling backward with a splash. Breath rushed out of his lungs, and the cold of the water and mud hit him like an angry slap.

The manticore lunged after him, its claws tearing through the water like knives, but John was already scrambling back to his feet. They were both slowed by the muck—but despite its immense weight, the manticore’s muscular power gave it the advantage. With a short bark, it lunged forward and raked John’s arm with a claw before he could evade its attack. He roared in pain and sank to one knee, clenching his teeth.

The creature’s huge, wicked stinger whipped back, poised to strike.