“Give her a kiss and I'll give it to you – for free.”
Angela looked at the little charm in the other girl's hand. A figure, shiny and polished black, a nude woman with crossed arms. It wasn't very detailed, but she had already fallen in love with it. The street girl grinned at Angela, crooked teeth and her dusky skin streaked with dirt, her eyes never leaving Angela's face.
“But you're not supposed to climb over.”
“Then I won't give it to you and you don't have enough money to buy it.”
Angela nodded and swallowed. The tiny statue was so pretty though. She looked around and there didn't seem to be anyone watching. Either she did it now, or she'd chicken out. She scrambled over the wall and ran up to the largest of the statues.
There were five of them in a semi-circle, all female and very round. The sign said they were the Fertility Sisters with their big bellies and curvy legs and big breasts. The rock was weathered, but just as dark as that trinket. Their faces were stylised, but somehow they still looked friendly. They were apparently very old.
Angela was tall for her age, but she was only ten and the statue was too tall for her to kiss it on the mouth even on tiptoe. She decided to kiss it on the belly, but then a sudden urge came over her and she stretched up to kiss its left breast, right where its heart would be. The stone felt good against her lips as she gave it a wet smooch of a kiss; it just seemed right to do it that way. She (the statue wasn't just a thing, it was a female) was cold and slightly salty but kissing her felt nice.
“Fair's fair. This is called a little sister and it's lucky, but only if you sleep with it in your hand.”
The dirty girl pushed Angela's fingers closed around the thing and dashed away, her threadbare dress flapping as she disappeared into an alley. Angela looked at the figurine and suddenly felt very foolish. Why had she disobeyed the sign and kissed a dirty piece of rock for this thing? She slipped it into her pocket and, since it was nearly time for dinner, she went to find her parents.
Angela lay in the dim hotel room, tired but unable to sleep. She kept thinking back to that afternoon, the girl who'd tried to sell her the statue, the dare, the way it had felt... Then she realised the charm was still in her pocket. She fished it out of her shorts and slipped back into bed with it. It felt warm in her hand and she wondered if it really was lucky. Probably just a made-up thing, but it was nice to have good luck. Less than a minute later she was fast asleep.
She woke up confused. It was still dark, and it was cool, but it had been warm just now and there had been firelight. She must have been dreaming, but she couldn't remember much of the dream. There had been music, maybe singing or drumming, and beautiful people? And she had something to do. She fidgeted and turned over, but she wasn't sleepy at all now.
Angela sat up and waited for her eyes to adjust. She pushed the covers back and found the little sister still in her left hand. She padded to the french doors and opened them, careful to be quiet. Outside was a warm and the only sound the barest whisper of palm fronds in the breeze. She was only wearing a night shirt and panties, but she was unconcerned as she made her way across the patio and onto the lawn.
She walked for a while on auto-pilot; through a little wooden gate, down a winding path, across a patch of flowers and finally into some bushes. She was looking around, unsure which way to go, when she had an idea. She held the little figurine to her ear and it whispered to her; somehow she had known it would, so she wasn't very surprised.
She walked on, splashing through an ankle-deep stream, stopping to enjoy the cold water, before moving on. Before long Angela came to a cave entrance carved into a steep slope, small enough that she had to duck to get inside. She had to feel her way forward through the absolute darkness and her feet were beginning to hurt by the time she came to a chamber lit by dim, smoky torches.
There were five statues, smaller than the ones she'd seen that afternoon, but so smooth they looked almost oily in the flickering light. They had the same generous shape and ambiguous faces; obviously a matched set. The little sister spoke to her again and this time she understood she'd been hearing it with her head, not her ears.
“We are alive here, but not only here. I'll show you more if you like. All you have to do is come to me and embrace me. I'm on the left.”
Angela shook her head; she felt so fuzzy and distant, like she was still half-asleep, but she had walked a long way so that couldn't be right. Did she want to hug the statue? What did it mean? A part of her rose up in warning, now truly afraid, but there was nothing to be afraid of that she could see, so she ignored it.
The statue was cold, as cold as the water, and Angela shivered in her thin clothes as she wrapped her arms around it. Around her, she thought. A new voice, just as wordless, spoke in her mind as she clung to the stone woman.
“Well done. I'm your Mother-to-be and you're my daughter-to-be, if you choose. I have many daughters, all as precious as you will be.”
Angela nuzzled her face against the statue's hard cheek. She didn't mind the coldness, it was still comforting. She wondered what kind of choice she was being asked to make.
“You must do three things to be my newest daughter. You must undress; to be bare is to be pure. You must wear our tokens; to carry stone is to know stone. You must infuse our likeness; to give innocence is to receive fertility. Look behind us.”
A low plinth was hidden in the shadows behind the statues and on it lay four bracelets, simple rings of black stone. Angela stroked one and found it smooth and cold. They seemed to be in two sizes and she realised they were for her wrists and ankles. She pulled her nightshirt over her head and stepped out of her panties, admiring her pale and slender figure under the shifting, orange torchlight. I'm bare and pure and I like it, she thought to herself.
The rings were perfectly sized for her body, just big enough to go past her hands and heels. It was strange having that weight on her limbs, but agreeable. I'm carrying stone and now I know stone, she thought. The next part confused her, but when she held the little sister to her ear it spoke louder and more clearly than before, a woman's voice, calm and confident.
“I... that's... really in there? But...”
There was no-one to hear Angela's worried voice. She stood with her thoughts whirling before listening to the charm again. It spoke more firmly this time although there was reassurance too, and she felt her fear lessen. She moved her feet apart and brought the tiny thing to the top of her thighs. It hurt a little as it stretched her, the first thing ever to pass through that entrance. There was a twinge as it met her maidenhead, but she pushed and felt herself tear. There was an awful, cramping pain that made her sag, but she kept sliding the charm inside her sex.
There was blood on her fingertips by the time the thing was all the way inside her, and she felt dizzy. More cramps pulsed through her and she sank to her knees and keeled over. The world spun and went grey and Angela fainted on the dirt.
When she awoke she was laying on soft cushions and she realised she was somewhere else, another cave, but larger and decorated with tapestries and carved wooden figures and other things she couldn't recognise. A tall woman, ebony-skinned and with a beautiful, serene face bent down to her, her deep brown eyes impossibly huge to Angela as their gaze consumed her.
“Welcome, daughter. This is where we are most alive, I your Mother and my Sister-Mothers. You've come to see me and I'm very glad.”
Angela sat up but could not break eye contact with her Mother. The regal, statuesque woman opened her arms and Angela let herself be enfolded.
“This is an island of travelers and settlers, but we were here before any human. We are obsidian, born of the volcano and eternal. The first peoples copied our likeness, worshipped us, and we blessed them. But things always change, and now we are almost forgotten. Almost. Some still cast their nets, and some catch lovely girls like you.”
“I... thank you but I don't understand. I have a mother and where am I? Am I alive?”
The Mother laughed, a kindly laugh, and bells at her ears and throat jingled.
“Very much alive. You're just visiting me. You're still Angela and you still have your mother, but I am your Mother. When we're done here you'll wake up and go back to your hotel.”
Angela laid her head against her Mother's bare breast, confusion giving way to comfort. She was held tightly for a while before being coaxed to her feet. She was still wearing the stone rings, but they felt natural now. She was still naked, but her Mother was topless, and it felt right. Her Mother led her by the hand to the entrance to another, smaller cave.
“Watch. This is a thing Mothers and daughters can do for each other. Do you recognise her?”
The girl from earlier was there, clean and perfect now, laying with a woman very much like Angela's Mother although with broader hips and fuller breasts. They were turned about so that each had their face nuzzled between the other's legs. Soft sounds came from them, wet sounds of licking and suckling, warm sounds of enjoyment.
“They're pleasuring each other, enjoying each other, Mother and daughter in intimacy. This is just one of the ways a Mother and daughter can play. They've spent many nights loving each other like this. You and I can do this and all the other things. I'll teach you how.”
Angela's Mother stepped behind her and wrapped her arms around her as they watched the woman and girl coupling more urgently, their pleasure growing. Angela thought it should be wrong to do this, but it didn't seem wrong to the people doing it, and it might be nice to do it. She felt damp between her legs, but it wasn't blood. She shivered as she touched herself and watched the two lovers.
“We can only love each other like that in this place, but you can come here whenever you choose. All you have to do is sleep with my likeness inside you. But there is one more thing you must do, my daughter, to make me truly your Mother. Come.”
The Mother led Angela to another chamber and sat her on a stone bench. She produced a stone knife, blade glinting wickedly in the flickering light, and Angela felt afraid again. Her Mother held her close and she couldn't have escaped, but she didn't think she actually wanted to.
“My milk and your blood. Your mouth to my breast, your finger to my lips. Suckle and you won't even notice when I prick you.”
Angela pushed her fear down inside her. Her Mother's nipples were thick and firm and it was easy to plant her lips around the left one. She ran her tongue over the hot flesh and found it had a subtle sweetness. She sucked (I guess like when I was a baby, she thought to herself) and the richest milk, more like cream and honey than ordinary milk, began to fill her mouth. She swallowed greedily and suckled more, gorging herself until her Mother eased her face away with a hand on her cheek.
“That's a good daughter. And you didn't feel a thing, did you? Look.”
There was a tiny mark on her right thumb and a bead of blood, but that was the only evidence she'd been cut; as promised, she hadn't noticed anything. As her Mother's milk settled in her stomach she felt a great contentment and a weariness come over her. She sagged and was once more enveloped by her Mother's arms.
“So much milk for a little girl. It'll make you strong, and when your first moon's blood comes, you'll grow into a beautiful woman. I've given you a great gift, and in return I have a task for you. Soon you'll birth four likenesses of me. The first is the one you were given. Keep it, and whenever you sleep with it inside your womanhood you'll visit me. The other three are not for you. Give them to girls you choose; one close friend, one whom you pity and one whom you scorn. Choose carefully, but we Mothers will do the rest. Now, sleep my daughter, sleep your first sleep in your Mother's arms. Hush, my angel, hush...”
Angela tried to remember what she'd just been told, but her eyes were growing heavy. The Mother held her daughter close, and the girl was asleep in moments.
Her eyes flew open; what had just happened? Was she... yes. She was laying on the dirt floor, curled up tight, her stomach still protesting. She struggled to her wobbly feet, still wearing the bracelets. She wondered whether to remove them, but then found she couldn't. Somehow they had shrunk and were snug against her skin. She picked up her clothes, but she didn't want to put them back on. Being naked in the night air would be nice.
She had no little sister to listen to as she found her way back, bare and slightly bloodied but unheeding, working over and over to remember what her Mother had told her. Herself. Friend. Pity. Scorn. She hoped she'd birth them soon and be able to visit Mother again, and love her. And love only her.