This is an excerpt from my ongoing story, The Creators. I decided to make this passage a stand-alone piece. The next chapter should be out soon.
We were called Elementals. We were white of eyes, skin and hair, perfect of complexion, and unmatched in beauty. We were the embodiment of ideas, those most prevalent in the cognizance of early man. I was called Petra; of rock and stone, and he was called Vita; of life and blood. From our joining came a daughter, and we called her ‘Joy,’ for that was what she was to us. We were gods to the primeval tribes, worshiped and adored, and Joy most of all. She was ‘Aqua’ to them, of water and rain, and she ensured the monsoons would green their fields. In the simple times, the thoughts that breached our realm of ideas were of pure things: light, love, sadness and longing. Vita, Joy and I savored each one for what they were, and on occasion, we clothed ourselves in the ideas, and walked the ethereal realm as something new. I would take on the façade of Love, and my white flesh would become pink, my white eyes would become violet, and my white hair would become purple. I would laugh and play with Joy, rapt in maternal love, then I would put her to bed, and find Vita in a quiet place. Then, I would show him the kind of love I felt for him. Vita would often clothe himself as Light, and shine gloriously as the sun made flesh. He would dazzle Joy with the fractal patterns he made across her water, and she would laugh gleefully with him. Then, he would put her to bed, and show me the heat his light shined with.
From our gifts and knowledge, the tribes began to evolve. They created sects, then society, then nations. And from that evolution, came new ideas. Power, greed, pride, deception, and corruption. New ideas to wear, and new delights with which to act. We did not know these things were evil. We did not know what they would do to us. I found the black cloak of Corruption, and dawned it curiously. It infected me. My mind became fevered, my muscles contracted. I wrenched and gagged upon the floor, writhing in the throes of agony… and something else. A terrible euphoria, something wrong and perverse, but irresistible. It change me. My mind deteriorated, my flesh, eyes and hair became black, and my body changed. My curvaceous profile of maternity turned to something as lithe and flexible as the morals of my newfound form. My breasts shrank to supple domes over a belly lined with muscle, which narrowed to hips that bore a succulent backside perched above toned thighs. I was an acrobat, meant to twist and bend insidiously through the minds of man. I desired only to bring out the darkness in others, and tear down the foundations of society that Vita, Joy and I had so painstakingly built. I looked over my shoulder, searching for Joy and Vita. Neither were around. Good, they could not know. I would go in secret to the realm of mortals, and indulge in my newfound mischief.
I came to the bedchambers of a warlord whose bloodlust was infamous, and whose cruelty was renowned. His armies were poised to wash over the land, and conquer all beneath his banner. I would inundate him with the thought I wore upon my flesh, and send him and society into a death-spiral. Only when I arrived, there was another woman there already. She was skinned in gold, with hair and eyes just as garishly lustrous, and a body whose supple curves were meant to evoke avarice. She seemed unsure of herself, and well she should, for she was a virgin, but apparently not as innocent as I had thought. I recognized my daughter immediately, and she recognized me. We stared at each other across the sleeping warlord, accusation and shame filling our eyes in equal parts.
“Greed?” I hissed at her.
“Corruption?” Joy scoffed back.
“Power.” Another voice said from the darkness, and Vita stepped forth, his skin and eyes a deep red, his brow bearing overgrown bullhorns, his body exaggerated in its display of muscle, and his manhood too large not to cause pain. There we stood, Greed, Corruption, and Power, the ills of society made flesh to tempt a warlord for our purpose.
“Why, Joy?” Vita asked our daughter.
“I want to centralize the wealth of the world to create a great empire, and unite all of humanity.” Joy answered smoothly, “And you, Father?”
“I too wish to unite the world, but through force of conquest.” Vita answered, then turned to me, “And you, Petra?”
“I desire as you do, Vita, and you, Joy.” I answered, “I wish for the world to be unified, and the wealth to be centralized. I wish this so that all of society’s eggs are in one basket. Then, I wish to crush the basket.”
“Mother!” Joy exclaimed, horrified, but Vita just shook his head and laughed. When he looked at me, there was a glint in his eyes that hinted at a very real and very dark desire. The same look was shining from my black eyes, I was sure, for power and corruption were forbidden lovers. Our attraction was detestable, our intentions were repulsive, but our desire was greater than it had ever been before. We liked our new skins; we liked them immensely.
“Progress needs correction, or it will run astray.” Vita said, “If there is not an antithesis to our purpose, then how can we know if it is right?”
“She betrayed us!” Joy narrowed her eyes at me.
“She thinks we betrayed mankind long ago.” Vita was still chuckling, apparently quite amused. Joy was not.
“They were happier when the world was simple.” I tried to explain to her.
“Monkeys are happy to shit in their hands.” Joy scoffed.
“If it is their nature.” I retorted, incensed by her insolence.
“Is being true to our nature all that we should strive to be?” Vita asked, a teasing tenor in his voice.
“What is your nature, Vita?” I hissed at him, “This thought you wear fits you like a glove!” Then I turned to Joy, “As does yours, Daughter.”
“As does yours, Mother.” Joy sneered back. I think it was at that moment, seeing her vitriol shining from her avaricious mask, that my perception of her changed. Maybe it was my self-perception that changed, I did not know, nor did I care. For I was seeing a dark side of Joy, a side that desired to horde the wealth of nations, and live in splendor as an idol. It aroused me, and the very thought that I would be sexually attracted to my own daughter only aroused me further, for such an attraction was abhorrent and wrong, and Petra would surely be ashamed of it. Petra would want to hide it. It would become Petra’s… darkness. Joy saw the hunger in my eyes, and her sneer slowly faded.
“Mother?” She asked, her voice unsure. She looked to her father, and I followed her gaze. Vita was staring at me, his eyes half-lidded and wild, his arousal stirring between his legs. I could see that he wanted to cause me pain, and that knowledge made me want it as well, but I sought further depravities, for Corruption always seeks to stoop lower. We went to low places that night. Never had an Elemental laid a hand on one of our parents, but that night, I did. I took the sleeping warlord from his bed, and hurled him from the tower window. He awoke just in time to realize the end, and his horrific scream was cut with sickening crack of his breaking body. Joy screamed, but Vita just stared, unflinching, his hunger even greater. For power only covets more of itself, and now that the warlord was dead, there was a great vacuum of power.
“Why?!” Joy shrieked, staring out the window. She turned to me, her face twisted in rage, and she charged me with teeth bared, and manic hatred in her eyes. Joy pounced on me, and I wrapped my arms about her in a maternal embrace, and let her vent her hatred, her darkness. She bit, scratched, and pulled, but to no avail, for Elementals were immortal, and the injuries she dealt healed instantly. I felt her naked suppleness pressed to me, the way her lithe muscles worked beneath the flesh, and I could not stop myself. I sank my fingers into her succulent flank, and rolled us onto the bed.
“Mother, what are you-” but her objection was cut short with the press of my lips, which opened her own to deliver my tongue. She stared at me, her golden eyes wide with horror, tinging their natural white for a moment as the mask of her golden body fell. Her slenderness was unsheathed from the voluptuous golden profile, her pure white flesh glowing dimly. I coerced her avaricious nature back with the motions of my tongue, delivering to her the pleasures of an invasive caress. Joy would have found the ordeal traumatic, but Greed wanted to horde the experience. She changed back, willingly indulging in the wrongness of it, focusing on learning the ways of my kiss so that she could keep that knowledge in her treasure box of a mind. Her breasts pillowed against mine, the nipples stabbing pleasantly between us, and she moved boldly, but in an unpracticed manner atop me.
“You have much to learn.” I smiled against her parted lips.
“Teach me, Mother.” She whispered, her breath sweet in my nostrils, her eyes filled with desire, “Teach me everything!” She accentuated the last word with a cry that reflected her need. She spread her legs about me, and I pressed my pubis to hers. She shuddered when she felt our slits connect, and the beads of our erogeneity engorge from their hoods to play. I guided her hips to shift back and forth, gliding her pearl through my folds, letting my wet, delicate petals caress the center of her lust. She hissed and moaned, her eyes glazing and lidding with hedonism, her mouth gaping, the lustrous, gold lips glistening with my saliva. I looked over her shoulder, and saw Vita watching us, his engorgement curving upward. I could see in his eyes that he was conflicted, but there was no denying the wants of his body. I just had to goad the wants of his new flesh.
“Take her, Vita.” I called over my daughter’s shoulder as I gripped her cheeks and spread them, “She is yours.”
Joy stopped her gyrations, her face stricken with alarm.
“Mother, no!” She cried, and the sweet fear and vulnerability in her voice tickled the power-lust in Vita. He could not stop himself, and nor could she, for even though her mouth sung fearfully her protest, her body still curved to press greedily to mine. It was only when her Father grabbed her by the hips, that Joy finally found the will to resist. She thrashed and twisted, and Vita caught both of her wrists, and pinned them together at the small of her back.
“Father, please don’t!” Joy cried, not realizing that her protests only entrenched her fate. She squirmed atop me, each shift causing our connected slits to rub and stimulate, coercing the nectar from our flushing buds to mingle in a stickily. She was aroused and ready despite herself, and the escalating screams she delivered in her panic only readied her father more. There was a moment where I remembered who she was, and who I was. I remembered that these skins we wore were just indulgences we took in lesser pleasures, and that the people we were outside of them would regret this forever. For I know that a person is more than their darkness, but Corruption knows not. Petra wanted Joy to be pure and wonderful, but Corruption wanted to see that purity tainted and ravaged. The moment passed, and I angled my daughter’s pelvis upward, relishing the sweet song of her fear. Vita shared a megalomaniac look with me, then buried himself to the hilt.
Joy’s scream sputtered to a breathless gasp. Her golden eyes bulged, her mouth gaped, and her body wrenched atop me. So great was Vita’s girth, that I could feel his bulge through the pressing flat of my daughter’s pelvis. It ran through her, then stopped with a smack of crotch upon cheeks. Then, Joy found her voice. It screeched from her, terrible and pained, and her virgin blood dripped from her and onto my moistened petals. I embraced her once more as mother, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as her father pulled back, then pushed in again, and again, and again. Each thrust was forceful enough to lurch Joy atop me, rubbing our clits together. Each thrust was forceful enough to send a ripple down the succulent flesh of her golden backside, which now reddened with the stings of impact.
“Shh, baby, shhh.” I soothed her, stroking her with tender fingers, “It will feel so good, I promise you. Just take him in, baby-girl.”
“Stop!” she screamed, writhing to escape the pain her father forced into her. With the sole of my foot, I guided Vita to cease, then to pull from his daughter. Relief washed over her face, obvious and pathetic, breathy exhalations singing from her lips. I grabbed the back of her head, and pulled it upright until her bulging eyes met my teasing stare.
“If you will not have him, then I will take him from you.” I whispered on her lips, “He belongs to me, after all, not you.” My chin tilted in as Vita entered me, stretching me painfully, forcing my depths open with every inch he pushed inside, “Your father was so gracious to offer his gift to you, and you were so rude to deny it. But no matter,” my words were moans, “I will keep him all to myself.”
If there was a moment that made me fully embrace Corruption, it was the site of my daughter’s face after I’d tickled her greed. For my thrills were begot by the self-ruination of others, and Joy ruined herself in that moment. At first, she dawned an expression of bewilderment. Then, there was a look of annoyance, then anger, then pure, envy. She reached between us, grabbed her father’s cock, tore it painfully from my depths, then pierced her own. She cried out with the pain of it, but she held eye contact with me the whole time, glaring contemptuously as she defiled herself.
“Mine!” She snarled, face contorted in challenge. Then, like a greedy child who realized she’s taken more into her mouth than her throat can swallow, Joy’s expression slackened in horror.
“That’s it, you gluttonous slut.” I said breathily when she began to whine in agony. I grabbed her hips, and guided them backward, watching the conflict of pleading mercy and voracious hunger battle in her golden regard. “You’re not satisfied with just a little.” I whispered, my tongue finding her lips, “You need to have every…” she gritted her teeth, “…last…” her head flew back, “…inch.” I finished, and Joy willingly took the last of her father deep into her tightness. She gasped, unable to handle what she’d taken, but unwilling to surrender a morsel of it. She stayed still, her body tortuously adapting to what she had forced into it. Finally, her heavy breaths eased, and her face relaxed. It fell into a thoughtful expression for a moment, then it slowly widened to a wonderous smile.
“It’s so good!” She said with a gasp, her eyes twinkling above mine. Her body lost its rigidity to a languid arch, and she tilted her head to growl, “Oh, it’s absolutely decadent!” And with that, she rolled her hips, lifting one cheek, then the other, stirring her taught lips about her father’s invasion, but not letting an inch of him free. For Greed was never one to willingly relinquish what she’d taken, so her father had to force the issue. He held her wrists together at the small of her back, and ravaged her like a bull. She lurched atop me, crying out with each entrance, and whining needfully with each exit, trying to entice her father with the back-arching elevation of her pelvis, presenting her fertile assets.
“Oh, please Daddy!” She cried, affecting the voice of a child, “Give me more. Give me MORE!” The affectation had the desired effect, and the weakness she portrayed goaded her father’s power-lust. He wrapped his hands around her throat, wrenched her upright, and choked her as he heaved with a fervency. Joy’s golden breasts turned to rippling domes, her lustrous hair flailed, and her belly clenched and convulsed, the flat of her pelvis bulging with each violent invasion of her father. She squealed her strangled delight, her head turned to gaze rapturously at her defiler, her chin resting upon her retracted shoulder, her arms flexing behind her back. The angle of her penetration allowed for Vita’s shaft to pass through my slit, and I moaned in congruence with my daughter’s screams, watching her debase herself, and succumb. The nectar she oozed from her swollen petals was golden and viscous, and tasted of sweet honey when I brought it to my lips. Oh, I would taste it from the source.
“Vita.” I spoke with a drawl that I hadn’t before. Vita looked at me from over our daughter’s shoulder, his red eyes wild. I guided him to stop his thrusts, and ran my fingers along his half-buried shaft, and through the pummeled folds of Joy. She was staring at me with questioning, annoyed eyes, her lips parted to breathe decadent moans, her cheeks flushed with her pleasure and strangulation.
“You cannot conquer her more from this expedition.” I said, withdrawing Vita from her depths, “There are other campaigns to pursue.”
“Fuck you, you old bitch!” Joy snapped, “He doesn’t want you anymore! He belongs to me now!”
“You mistake me, daughter.” I chuckled lowly, admiring the way her broken virginity stayed yawning and dripping even after it had been evacuated. I looked lazily into her questioning eyes, and guided my husband’s weapon backward, sliding the tip down her moist taint, “I am simply suggesting an assault from the rear.”
The look of shock that came over Joy’s face was almost as exquisite as the agonized expression that came immediately afterward. Vita used the fluid of his daughter’s lust to lubricate the invasion, but there was no preparing her for the depth of it. He buried himself into her filthy, virgin hole, and Joy’s entire body wrenched. Her head flung backward, her breasts jutted forward, her pelvis pivoted downward, and her ass wrenched upward, the small of her back becoming the vertex of her agonized arch. Her bottom lip trembled below wide, mindless eyes, and her chest heaved with desperate intakes. Vita took his daughter by the golden globes of her flank, and lifted her easily from the bed. She fell spinelessly against him, her pelvis tilting forward, her legs dragging out from beneath her, and flopping uselessly before her. I could see the extent of her ruination, and my eyes followed a dribble of lust that started from the bottom of her slit, dripped down the ribbon of her taint, and thinned about the stretched rim of her sodomy.
An unbidden memory came to me in that moment. It was a memory of Joy laughing gayly from beside a waterfall as she made the water run back up the cliffside. Her sonorous mirth echoed against the rocks, and she looked delightedly back at me. I remembered the purity of her, the brilliance of her virtue. I remembered that I vowed to keep her like that; void of pain, ignorant of suffering, innocent of the ills of lust. She was a grown woman then, naked in the water, but her nudity bore no vulgarity, nor shame. It was simply the form of her, beautiful, graceful, and untainted. “Watch me, Mom!” She had laughed, and with a wave of her hands, she’d emptied the lagoon into the air, and created a liquid sculpture of me in the sky. She let the water rain upon us, and we giggled, embracing as mother and daughter, enjoying each other’s flesh and warmth without desire. Her white hair was matted to her head, her eyes were alight with glee, and her lips were creased with joy.
Her golden hair was disheveled, her eyes were possessed from the tops of her whites, and her lips were trembling and leaking with drool. Her body was still beautiful, but the grace of virtue was gone from it, and the modesty was gone. She reached beneath herself, grabbed the glutes her father was already gripping, and she spread herself wider. The last of his cock slid into her taught shithole, and a shudder ran through her. Her eyes rolled forward, and focused on me. “Watch me, Mom.” She whispered, hatred and greed, lust and love, all mingling in the husky tone of her voice. She planted her feet into the bedding, and upon shaking legs she rose, her anus stretching as it clung avariciously to her father’s shaft, the rim sucking upon him. She reached the crease of his cock, her eyes locked with mine, and then she dropped. The cry that came from her was filled with pain and delight, and the sob that wracked her chest bore a similar duality. And though it seemed to torture her, she did it again, and again, and again. I watched, rapt and awed as she rose, her clinging rectum stretching beneath, then plunging back into her, the site of her penetration obscured by the shadowed hollow created by the indentation of her crack. Her pussy opened and blushed with her arousal, spurting with ever drop, compelled to secrete from the wrong side of her nethers. She begged me with her eyes, which streamed with tears of pain and ecstasy, and I complied with her wishes. For she’d been wholly corrupted by power and greed, and now looked upon her own mother as a source for carnal pleasures. I tasted her honey as it spurted from her, my nose wetting with her pliant folds, my tongue exploring her convulsing insides, finding the secrets locked within.
Her hands locked behind my head, and forced me deeper. Vita began to thrust in opposition of her drops, causing them to collide in a ripple of smacking flesh, each impact coercing her sullied nethers to clench in delight. Her cries were screams now, high, hoarse and desperate, filtering through a voice that had once been so lovely. It was twisted now, depraved and wanting, cursing with every breath, “Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck your little whore daughter!” And he did as commanded, pummeling her ruined gape, turning her body into a blur of jiggling flesh and flailing hair. I hummed a moan into her leaking depths, watching her as she watched me, caressing myself where I was vacant and aching with need. But I would not demand to be filled, for my pleasure was begot only from the debasement of my daughter. She dug her heels into the bedding, locked her thighs into a wide spread, and jackhammered herself atop her father. The spurting of her insides turned to continuous flood in my mouth, and her fluctuating scream turned to a continuous shriek in hers. With a final exaltation, she dropped, piecing herself deeper than ever, squishing my chin upon the roiling sack of my husband. She stayed there for a moment, grinding her hips in a violent circular path, her whine sputtering to a breathless croak. The delicate column of her neck striated with tension, her back arched to a spine-cracking bow, and she stayed in paralytic euphoria for a breathless moment. Then she came, and my face was drenched with her release. I lapped up her expulsion as she screamed in primal ecstasy, her entire body shaking with it. Vita groaned and growled, then erupted into his daughter’s anus, filling her with her wasted brothers and sisters. He trembled in his own ecstasy, and with a curse, he withdrew, lifting his squirming daughter upward so that he could unload the last of himself onto my face. I tasted the delicious mixture of my husband and daughter, and eyed the outturned ruin of Joy’s rosebud anus; swollen and leaking. Vita collapsed on the bed, spent and exhausted, and Joy did the same, falling into the crook of his arms. They snuggled together as father and daughter might, but their fingers did not find themselves in platonic places. Her hand gently caressed his shaft, and his hand trailed fingers through her tender folds. They stared into each other’s eyes, a mixture of lust, love, shame and regret tinging their expressions. It was beautiful. I slithered between my daughter’s weakly-splayed legs, and approached the apex of her sex. Heat radiated from her depths, the smell of her satisfaction wafted into my nostrils. She looked down at me questioningly, and I winked at her, then wrapped my lips about her prolapse. Gone was any resistance from her, and now she merely whined softly, played her fingers through my hair, then gripped my mane, and drew me deeper into her depravity. Her other hand coerced her father’s arousal to engorgement, and she looked hopefully into his eyes, biting her lower lip. The shame and regret in their expressions dwindled, and the desire overtook the love that was there. There was only lust now. Only power, greed, and corruption.