


Codes: ScFi viol MFf




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*        WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING        *
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* For the love of SPOONS no one under the age of twenty-one (21) or the age of *
* consent for their geographical location (whichever is HIGHER) needs to be    *
* anywhere near this.  This is a story meant for legally-adult readers.  Don't *
* let your kids read this.  Don't let your dog read this.  Don't let your      *
* religious leader within the same postal code as this.  You know, really, YOU *
* probably shouldn't even read this horrible, nasty, terrible story.           *
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* Hopefully it goes without saying, but if you ever even vaguely ponder the    *
* SLIGHT idea that MAYBE you would CONSIDER doing anything even REMOTELY like  *
* anything depicted herein--GET HELP.  NOW.  Therapy is a wonderful thing.     *
*                                                                              *
* This story can (and probably does) contain one or more of the following (bet *
* your last nickel on "more"): Incest, pedophilia, watersports, extreme female *
* domination, bestiality, psychological torture, and who knows WHAT other      *
* sick, perverted, dirty, terrible, and disgusting things I can come up with.  *
* Really, you ought to stop reading.  Right now.  I'm serious.                 *
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* ...still here?  You sure?  This is bad-bad mojo.  Last chance...             *
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                                     POISON
                            Chapter Six: Revelations
                                       by
                          Forbidden Fantasy Storyteller



        "You defile my world with your very presence," growled the man lowly,
glaring at me with eyes the odd shade of burnt sienna.  "Your human host may yet
be allowed to live--but your alien parasite WILL leave."

        His fist was suddenly engulfed in flame, and I got the sudden,
inexplicable yet undeniable impression that whoever and whatever this man was,
he meant what he said.

        I was standing on the airstrip in a private airport just outside Santa
Barbara, California, with the last of my belongings loaded into a large cargo
plane.  Before me stood--the weirdest form I have even seen or even thought of
in my life, and considering that I'm a human mentally bonded with an alien
symbiote, that says something.

        The man--and I use the term loosely--before me was at least six feet
tall and had an olive-y complexion with features that were reminiscent of
Egyptian and Greek, yet without quite seeming to be true descendants of either.
That was the least-outrageous thing about him.

        He had burnt sienna eyes, thin flame-orange eyebrows, and hair to match.
Weirder still, he had large WINGS, of all things.  Wings of a type I didn't
really recognize, though they looked similar to a hawk's wings, or perhaps an
eagle's.  He wore a bright costume that covered him completely from the neck
down, obviously designed to draw attention--as if the wings wouldn't have done
it on their own.  Bright green and bright cyan, it hugged his form though had a
touch of padding, as if it were a form of Kevlar or some similar.  On his chest
there was an emblem of a bird, its wings spread wide.  I had to assume it was a
phoenix, as it was wreathed in fire.  Both elements of the emblem were a bright
mixture of reds and oranges.  Oddly, the symbol didn't really clash with the
rest of the costume.

        "Uh-huh," was all I could think to say.  In my defense, there really
wasn't much TO say.  He stared at me without blinking, and for the first time in
my life I got the sense of authority and regality that I myself put forth.
It--was surprisingly off-putting.  Though, if that was the sense others got from
me, then it wasn't the worst thing in the world.

        "You have three seconds to decide your fate," said the figure.

        "I only need two," I said, adopting a smug expression.  "Fuck.  You."
Normally I shy away from such banal vernacular, but if there were ever a time
for it, that was it.

        I admit to satisfaction as his brow furrowed in anger, the flames
emanating from his fist growing larger.

        "Who the HELL do you think you are?!" I raged at him.  "You accost me
out of some undeserved sense of superiority, without EVEN giving me the courtesy
of knowing who you are, and you have the testicular fortitude to say *I* defile
'YOUR' world?!"

        A smirk came to his lips, then, and he said, "You--are correct, foul
creature.  I am Amun-her-Shepshef, first-born son of Ramses the Great, protector
of this world."

        "Uh-huh.  And my grandmother was a Vienna sausage."

        "Impudent cur!  You dare mock your better?!"

        I snorted.  "Oh, I would never do that--if I were faced with my better.
You, my nightmarish friend, are NOT my better."

        I--really don't know, exactly, what happened next.  One second he was
glaring bloody hate at me, and the next I was flying backward through the air,
my chest burning audibly.  My symbiote was howling in pain in my head; we had
just discovered that naked fire was almost as painfully debilitating to it as
ultra-high-pitched sound.  What a way to find THAT one out.

        I landed in a heap on the Tarmac, instinctively curling into a fetal
position as more pain than I've ever experienced in my life shot through me.  I
still have no idea how much of that pain was my own from my burned chest, and
how much was the symbiote's, felt by me through our mental bond.

        I felt the temperature suddenly spike, and forced my eyes open.  Amun-
herpes-Sheeplover was standing over me, flames crackling in both palms.  "Are
you ready to concede the battle, demon?" he whispered with a smile.  That smile
just BEGGED to be torn off of his face.

        "We are not a demon..." I growled, both my own anger and my symbiote's
pulsating through us as I was covered in the symbiote, the bits of gold armor
that was our own "costume" forming.  "We--" we hissed, our voices combined in
a dual tonalities that was quite unnerving to most people, "--are POISON!"

        Roaring, we leapt upward, my symbiote's toxic waste deposited into out
hands.  Both handfuls got shoved into bird-boy's face, and we took malevolent
delight in the way his skin audibly crackled as it was eaten away.  His painful
screaming as he fell to his knees was a truly dulcet sound.  At first.

        Suddenly his voice gained a weird, otherworldly, bass-y quality to it.
It--it was "inhuman".  That's the only way I can describe it.  The low, thunder-
like sounds reverberated--and we felt the very planet itself answering that
reverberation as it started to shake.

        We looked at the plane, to Scourge and our favored pet still on the
ramp.  "Go!" we screamed.  "Get away!  We'll find you!"  Scourge looked
hesitant, as if she were about to charge off to our aid--but, no.  I had to
fight this bastard alone, to let them have the time to get away.  Scourge and
she alone could set up our new home in my absence.  If she stayed, even if we
won we would be possibly too far behind schedule, and as annoying as it was this
winged whack-job wasn't the only thing I had to worry about.

        I had agents of the N.S.A. and, likely, the C.I.A. hunting for me, and
when they caught me I was sure to be in a never-ending world of hurt.  I was
about to leave their grasp when this bronze buffoon interjected.  Sometimes,
just sometimes, I felt like my life were a comic book if written by a hyper-
active chimpanzee with a crack pipe in one hand and a shot of vodka in the
other.

        As the ground shook, we struggled to keep our balance.  Looking at Amun-
whatever, we--saw what was, now, the weirdest thing ever.  As his face and neck
were being eaten away by our acidic waste, it was REPAIRING ITSELF.  "...oh,
shit," we muttered, then the man suddenly burst into flame.  His screaming rose
to a fervent roar, answered once again by the very Earth itself, and flames
shot from his wings to propel him forward and upward--into us.

        My symbiote and I both screamed in agony once more, but this time we
channeled the pain we both felt into hate.  That hate became rage, and that rage
became strength.  Nothing held back, nothing planned--this was pure, animalistic
fury.  The ground shook so hard we wouldn't have been able to stand even if we
had the opportunity--but we didn't.

        We tumbled over the ground, trading Amun's fire-infused blows with
waste-infused blows of our own.  We no longer were quite sure where "Tobias"
ended and "the symbiote" began.  We had, then, an inkling of what every moment
was like for Scourge.  Such was our shared hate, our combined rage, our mixed
pain--"I" was no different than my symbiote.

        We were dimly aware of the plane's engines starting up, then fading as
the plane managed to roll down the runway.  That freed us.  Howling laughter
that was at once both threaded with anger and--admittedly--likely lunacy, we
threw ourself at Amun, fingers becoming barbed claws that ripped through his
costume to rend the flesh beneath.

        "A pound of flesh!  THAT is the price for your sin!" we roared,
literally ripping chunks of the "man" out.  His screaming was starting to grow
so intense, we were getting a headache--and not from the noise.  We could FEEL
our skull starting to vibrate, and we knew it would shatter like a crystal
goblet soon enough.

        There was one thing to do, and I would be lying if I said we took
anything less than a deep pleasure from it.

        Digging our talon-like fingers into his skull, we viciously ripped his
head off, the blood covering us and running down our body.  The anger slowly
faded from those oddly-colored eyes, and we dropped the head as we ourself
dropped to the calming ground.

        We heard sirens in the distance, but--they weren't QUITE right for
police, or even fire fighters.  We slowly realized that they were the sirens
usually heard from government cars.  "Shit..." we grunted again, struggling to
our feet.

        We happened to look down--and watched Amun's body disintegrate into ash.
A smile came to our lips--then it was wiped away as the ash caught on fire.  We
weren't too knowledgeable on every bit of phoenix-related lore, but we did know
that they supposedly rose from the ashes of their own death--at least as strong
as before.

        A string of obscenities was barely kept back, as we focused on the much
more important notion of fleeing.  We were barely conscious; there was no way in
hell we could fend off federal agents who were, in all likelihood, royally
pissed off and desirous to take that out on US.

        Stifling a groan, we shuffled into the closest hangar, mere seconds
before a trio of black government-issue sedans screamed onto the Tarmac.
Leaning against the wall, we peeked through a hole, watching as the flames from
Amun's ashes rose higher, a humanoid form slowly taking form within.  We groaned
when, after a good thirty second, Amun himself stepped out of the flames.

        We took some comfort in seeing him naked.  Apparently whatever process
let the man come back to life didn't let his clothing be part of the bargain.  A
small, rather insignificant victory, that--but we'd take anything we could get
right then.

        Looking around, we finally found an old, battered clock on the far wall.
Assuming it was correct, we only had to survive twenty-three minutes.
Obviously, that was much, much easier said than done.

        Turning back to the wall, we peeked out again, watching the federal
agents exit their sedans and run toward Amun.  The latter exploded into flame
once again, and we could SEE the way his features were twisted into a visage of
anger.  We were, to use more banal vernacular, screwed.

        We couldn't hear what was being said, but from the way the agents threw
their hands in front of their faces, whatever they were shouting wasn't all that
pleasant.  Something seemed to catch Amun's attention, and his flames died down
to merely blinding.  Even our human eyes shielded by alien symbiote had to
squint.

        One of the agents brought out something that, I swear on my life, looked
like the P.K.E. Meter from the old "Ghostbusters" movies and waved it around.
She slowly turned toward the hangar we--and I'm not ashamed to admit this,
considering what we just went through--cowered in.  We sighed and got to our
feet, hurrying to the back of the hangar, where we slipped through the human-
sized door as quietly as we could.

        The hangar we left was just one of a string, and it was a short, if
painful, jog to the next one.  This was locked, but we ripped the padlock off
and slipped inside.  A moment was taken to simply rest and think.  We knew we
had to stay near the runway, but we couldn't stay there, either.  The federal
agents were hot on our trail, as was that winged bastard.  We didn't think he
was working with or for them, necessarily, as much as not bothering to deal with
them until we, first, were dealt with.  He didn't seem like the sort to get his
proverbial clock cleaned that often, so we were quite sure he had a score to
settle with us.

        Our closer bonding faded, the last dregs of anger and adrenaline fueling
it leaving.  After a moment, my symbiote then gained my attention.

        ~Tobias?~ came the soft but firm sexless voice that only I could hear.

        ~Yeah?~

        ~I do not know what was in that winged man's fire, but it is working
through your body almost faster than I can keep up with.~

        ~That would explain why the pain is only getting worse.  And at least
it's only "almost" faster than you can keep up with.~

        ~True, but without rest for you and phenethylamine for myself, I
estimate twenty minutes before your body is damaged more than I can repair.~

        I had to smile at that.  ~As long as we're not working under a strict
schedule, eh?~

        ~I have to say, I still find the human sense of macabre humor
perplexing, even after all these years with you.~

        ~Yeah?  We shall have in-depth intellectual discourse over that most
interesting topic at another time.  Right now, cultural enlightenment must
wait.~

        I got the equivalent of a chuckle, for that, then I looked around the
hangar.  It was a pretty standard affair--tools, parts, diagnostic equipment,
that sort of thing.  My eyes fell on the sledgehammer hanging up on the far
wall, and I limped over to retrieve it.  Even with my symbiote's augmentation,
it was, as they say, a bitch to pick up.  Leaning it on my shoulder, I looked
around the tall building and planned.  I had an estimated three minutes at most
before they arrived.

        Outside, Amun grabbed the scanner-device from the agent and looked at
it, then at the hangar I was in.  Tossing the device aside, he strode to the
front of the hangar.  He didn't waste time with trying to roll the door upward,
instead pressing his hands against it and using his fire to burn through it.  In
less time than it takes to describe it, he had burned through, the bit he burned
out falling over to the ground in a loud clatter.

        "Here we are, bird-boy!" I called out from the back of the hangar.  I
stood behind some oil drums, for two reasons.  One, being so seemingly stupid as
to all but ask to be barbecued should draw his attention away from the other
reason: My right hand was hidden by the drum.

        He smirked and took a step inward, stopping when I said, "AH!  That's
far enough.  I don't know--or care--what you are, but whatever people claim you
must not be all that bright."  With my left hand, I pointed above his head.  He
looked up, which was, I have to say, downright stupid.

        I released the cord I was holding with my right hand.  In the few
minutes previous, I'd jury-rigged a simple set-up.  The cord was attached, in a
rather round-about fashion through pulleys and casters-turned-pulleys, to the
sledgehammer, which dangled above his head.

        The heavy tool fell and hit him almost squarely on the head, turning it
into so much chunky salsa.  I allowed a feral grin, then broke into a run.  By
the time I ducked out through the hole in the roll-up door Amun had made, I was
a blur.  My symbiote burned through phenethylamine to make sure of that.

        I passed the nearest agents fast enough to make their coats and ties
billow as I sped out onto the runway.  In the distance I could see the speck I
was waiting for.

        Behind me I heard--and felt--Amun's literally Earth-shaking roar,
which--I must admit this--actually struck fear into me.  The first battle was
won through being fueled with rage.  The second was dumb luck.  We wouldn't
survive a third, and I damn well knew it.

        Panting harder than I have in many years, I sped out onto the runway,
literally skidding to a stop at its end.  Bent over, hands on my knees, I looked
back and saw the hangar I left Amun in explode, sending the straggling agents
tumbling and frantically trying to strip themselves of their melting suits.

        I looked back to the sky, at the growing speck, silently willing it to
speed up.  A crashing noise brought my attention once more to the hangar, and I
saw Amun emerge from the fireball, flying toward me with flames streaking from
beneath his wings.

        I and my symbiote were nearly spent.  We had nothing left to fight him
with.

        I was knocked over by a rope bonking me in the head.  Stunned, I looked
up, and saw it led to the now-low-flying jet overhead.  I grabbed on just in
time to be yanked into the sky--and Amun whizzed under me so close my symbiote
cried out in pain.

        Grinning and praising the Roman gods, I struggled to pull myself up and
into the jet, my helmet and mask melting into my skin.  I was helped inside by
Reginald Cornelius Zanders himself--an old acquaintance from London.

        "Old boy, when your woman asked I come here, I never expected--well, any
of this!" he shouted over the roar of rushing wind, then he unfastened the rope
and tossed it out, closing the door with a loud THUNK.

        I laughed, giddy with fading adrenaline and exhaustion, as I fell into
the nearest seat.  "I see your 'cruise' was as enjoyable as I promised."

        The last thing I heard before I succumbed to sleep was, "Much BETTER
than promised!"

        The private jet was a speedy but comfortable thing, though it was as
much my own tiredness that contributed to my comfort.

        My dreams were--odd.  At first a hodge-podge of random memories; years
as a youth spent at my uncle's cabin, reading everything about Roman mythology
and culture I could get my hands on, my uncle tutoring and testing me.  That was
the only real bond we had, but it was a strong one.

        My first experience with a girl; I was fifteen, she was nine.  It was my
cousin, and she was staying with my family for the week.  My parents had gone
out for the evening.

        School, that repugnant collection of years spent with my nose in a book,
girlfriends who couldn't understand my obsession with Ancient Rome, bullies
picking fights only to have me end it by breaking their noses, teachers who were
distressed by having far too many students to keep track of.

        Somewhere along the way, my dreams shifted.

        I saw a male figure in stylized Roman armor, every inch of him jet-
black.  He rode a horse a beautiful midnight-blue, steering the beast calmly to
me.  When he stopped, he slowly unsheathed the sword that was strapped to his
left hip--then turned it around to offer it to me pommel-first.

        I saw my hand reach out and take it, lifting it rather gingerly.  The
dark figure leaned forward and whispered only two words: "Marius Faunorius".
Those words echoed in the farmland he was in the middle of, echoing louder and
louder and louder...

        "Old boy, wake up!"

        I was suddenly aware of being shaken.  My eyes fluttered open and
finally managed to focus on Zanders.

        "What the devil does 'Marius Faunorius' mean?  You were shouting it at
the top of your lungs."

        For all of that shouting, I couldn't find my voice just then, so I
managed a weak shrug instead.

        Grunting, I sat straighter in the seat, blinking quickly as I stared out
the window.  I didn't recognize the land below.  "Where..." I whispered, looking
back to Zanders.

        "My boy, welcome to Rajasthan, India."  He went on to say that Rajasthan
was the largest of India's twenty-eight states, and was larger than any of the
seven union territories.  In a way, Rajasthan held everything a foreigner
thought of when they think of India--opulent mansions, both private and turned
into hotels, slums, and everything in between.

        I watched the Thar Desert pass below, leaning against the window and
accepting a glass of Scotch and bit of Swiss chocolate without looking up.

        ~Your dreams were--most unusual, Tobias,~ my symbiote said, gently
prodding me for information.  I knew what it wanted, of course, but I had other
things on my mind.

        ~No.  Not Tobias.  He died.  Amun killed him.  Tobias is dead, and from
his ashes arose Marius Faunorius--god of death and sex.  God of the bookends of
human existence; that which precedes our arrival into this world, and the
gateway we pass through when we leave it.  The god who took human form to wipe
the pestilence that is humanity from the planet.~

        I felt my symbiote's surprise, but I didn't concern myself with it
overmuch.  It would discern the truth of my thoughts, of course it would.  I had
been granted a vision of my destiny--and thanks to the symbiote, that destiny
would be fulfilled.

        I felt a renewed gratitude for the symbiote's presence in my life.  To
think, I would have still been rotting in prison, lacking in destiny or
direction, were it not for the alien.

        ~My friend, we will bring about a new era for this world--an era guided
by our hand.~

        ~And Amun?~ asked the symbiote, as unflappable as ever, especially now
that we'd apparently had quite a few hours' rest.

        "Amun?" I said, not immediately realizing--then not caring--that I spoke
aloud, "He'll have a choice to make.  Accept the Age of Enlightenment, or be our
sworn enemy.  I don't know what he is, but even if he's as nearly-immortal as we
are, he can feel pain.  If he chooses to stand against us, he WILL feel as much
pain as we can offer."

        My symbiote's mental smile matched my physical one.


                        *              *              *


        Evening on the streets of Rajasthan.  Zanders had, at my insistence,
left to find a hotel, though I urged him to send his jet onward.  We'd left Amun
far behind us, but I really doubted it would take him long to catch up.  The
pilot seemed a decent sort, but--eggs and omelettes, you know.

        My symbiote had altered itself to look like the traditional dress of
a Rajasthani man, a Dhoti (a rectangular piece of un-stitched cloth around seven
yards long, wrapped around the torso and the legs and knotted at the waist), a
kurta (a loose shirt falling either just above the knees) underneath, and a safa
(essentially, a turban).  I'd wound the last bit of the turban over my lower
face, to both protect against the dust and to provide a small measure of
anonymity.

        I walked through the streets, ignoring the vendors calling their wares,
tossing coins to the beggar children, and eventually found myself at what once
was a small home.  The Christian cross painstakingly painted above the door
marked it as currently a church.  Smiling to myself, I headed in.

        Not too surprisingly, it was empty.  It was a small dwelling, as I
mentioned, though the main room was larger than one might have expected.  I
walked to the far end of the room to look up at the small crucifix that was
hanging on the wall.

        "You promise freedom," I whispered up to the wooden figure.  "You
promise eternal bliss in some after-life if the sheep prostrate themselves
before you and swear to go against everything you created them to be.  You are a
false god, turning a deaf ear and blind eye to their pleas.  Not I.  I am a
merciful god, for I walk amongst the people, promising glory and pleasure in the
only life they'll have--and I do not forsake those who follow me."  I smiled--
then stopped as the door was slowly pushed open.

        By the time the woman stepped into the room, I'd hidden myself in a
corner, my symbiote darkening itself to blend in with the shadows perfectly.  I
watched the woman slowly pad to the crude altar that stood near the crucifix,
head bowed.  Without looking up, she got to her knees.

        From my position on her right, I saw that beneath her veil, she was a
half-Caucasian, half-Indian woman, who had long ago lost most of the right side
of her face to some horrible fire.  Her eye socket was a twisted mass of scar
tissue--and that was the best part about that side of her face.

        Her mouth was malformed into a perpetual sneer, and though she once must
have been beautiful, she surely now was seen as nothing but a monster.  I took
pity on her, a woman who in America would be barely thought of as "middle-aged",
but in this one was thought of as almost venerable--and pitiable.

        My symbiote altered itself around my throat and face, so our voice would
echo off the walls without seeming to come from any one place.

        "<My child, you have been the subject of scorn and pity from your
fellows,>" we said in Rajasthani, and the woman's head snapped up in alarm.
"<Fear not, for your true god has seen your trials and tribulations.>"

        She fearfully whispered the Rajasthani word for the Hebrew god, and I
chuckled placatingly.  I switched from the Bagri dialect to the Shekhawati one
she used.

        "<No, child, not the false god who has ignored your pain.  Nor the false
demon claimed to desire to twist humanity.  No, child--I am your true god.
Close your eye, and let me show you my love for you is true.>"

        Slowly, so slowly, she did so.

        "<Good.  Now keep them closed.>"

        I snuck from my hiding spot as my symbiote adopted our "costumed" look,
and silently went to stand before her.  Lightly I placed my hand on the scarred
side of her face, causing her to gasp--then whimper.  My symbiote was working
its way into her flesh, reworking it to make her whole again.

        It was a long, and lamentably painful, process, but as she could FEEL
her face restructure itself, she kept silent.  I thought then, and still think,
that it was solely from surprise and even shock.

        When I finally drew my hand away, we whispered, "<Open your eyes,
child.>"

        With tears in them, she did so, and for the first time in years she had
two perfectly working eyes.  They gazed up into my own, hidden as they were
behind the small white "lenses".

        "<I am Marius Faunorius, your god enrobed in human form to walk amongst
you and end your pain.>"

        Her bottom lip trembled, and, with fearful slowness, she stretched her
hand up, lightly touching my gold belt with just the tips of her fingers.  I
gently took that hand, clasping it warmly in between my own.

        "<Unlike the false god in whose 'house' you find yourself, I am real.  I
feel pain at your pain, and have taken it away.  It is my will that it will
never return.  Will you obey and worship me?>"

        She struggled to form a coherent response, and I tilted my head in a
compassionate manner, my white eyes crinkling at the edges to hint at the benign
smile that was hidden.

        Finally, she gasped, "<How--how can I know that this is truth...?>"

        "<You know in your heart.  What I have done for you was a gift of love;
your freedom has been left untouched.  If you wish to leave, you may, and I
again say it is my word that, even then, your beauty will stay with you.  Such
is my love for you.>"

        She took her left hand and ran it along her face, under her veil, the
tears returning to her eyes.  Releasing her right hand, I turned and retrieved
a bronze plate from the altar, holding it so she could use it as a mirror.  She
stared at herself, and I gently removed the veil, letting it dangle to give her
an unobstructed view.

        Her eyes flicked back up to mine, then swiftly moved back to the plate.
"<This--this is real...?>" she whispered in stark disbelief.

        "<Yes, child, it is real.  Your face is again whole, and your beauty
once more shines brightly.>"

        She stared at herself for many long moments--then suddenly bent over,
pressing her forehead to the toe of my boot.  I crouched, lightly cupping her
chin and tilting her head up.

        "<You have pleased your god, child,>" I whispered softly.  She smiled
up at me, and I could so plainly see that it was the first true, honest smile
she'd shown in many years.

        I stood up and stepped back, telling her I would accompany her to her
home, but I would need clothe myself as a mortal to pass inconspicuously through
the streets.

        My "costume" started to writhe, and though I could again see fear in my
new devotee's eyes, she watched unblinking.  My armor rustled and became cloth,
which wound itself about my body, as the black bodysuit lost its color and
shrank, becoming the shirt and shoes of before.  My helmet changed back to the
bright blue color and wrapped itself around my head to re-form the turban.  It
was all done with a more dramatic flair, but we had a reputation to create.

        Once the process was complete, I took the woman's hands in mine and
gently pulled her to her feet.

        As we walked through the streets, I noticed the looks of shock she
received.  I heard murmurs that either demonic or heavenly forces were "surely"
at work, which one being promoted depending on the speaker.  She was positively
beaming happiness, taking pleasure in the surprise of those who knew her.

        As we walked, she told me of her life.  Her name was Chanda Meerabai
Singh, born to a British mother and Hindi father, though he died when she was a
child.  Her mother tried to raise her here in India, though as a white woman
found it obviously difficult to try and keep her child aware of both sides of
her family.

        She married a Hindi man nearly a decade previous, though three years
after their wedding they were in a bus accident that claimed his life, and her
face.  Only her now-eight-year-old daughter had given her unconditional love;
though other women were sympathetic and helped when and how they could, there
was always an undertone of fear and wondering if it was a "sign" of her
spiritual impurity from being born a half-breed.

        I swore to her that she was anything BUT spiritually impure, and that
she had proved it when she gave me her worship.  Did I not, after all, take away
the very disgrace she had lived with for so long?

        We talked further, and I told her that I had come to do away with the
false deities of the world--which was all of them.  At her questioning of that,
I pointed out that I and I alone walked the Earth, not the Hindu gods, nor
the Judeo-Christian Christ, nor any other.  They had forsaken humanity--but not
I.  I had come to save it.

        The rest of the journey was in silence, as she pondered that.  As we
approached her modest home--so modest it made the improvised Christian church I
found her in seem large--she admitted, grudgingly, that it made sense.  I walked
where other gods did not.  I offered her a gift of love without demanding her
servitude in recompense.  That was more than any god she had offered prayers to
had done.

        We entered her home, and I closed the door behind me as she went to
fetch her daughter.  Young Karmabai was doing her homework like a good girl, and
though, as I'd said, I disliked pulling her away from her studies, she deserved
to know that a god had blessed her home.

        Chanda disappeared into the only other room,and I heard the gasp of a
small child.  Shortly after it came joyous laughter and quiet conversation, then
Chanda reappeared, holding her daughter's hand.

        I knelt on one knee, extending my arms to her, and at her mother's
gentle assurance, she walked to me.  I clasped her warmly, hugging her against
me, whispering, "<I am your god, young Karmabai, come to deliver you and your
mother from pain and misfortune.>"

        She leaned back and looked into my eyes, a fearful--if cute--expression
coming to her small face that mirrored the look her mother was capable of.

        "<Your life is hard, I know,>" I told her, stroking her hair
reassuringly.  "<But you are a wonderful child.  You stood by your mother, gave
her your love and her honor where none other did.  You have helped earn freedom
from suffering for you both.>"

        She looked back at her mother with a shy yet hopeful smile, and the
woman just looked between her daughter and her god.

        "<I will take you both to a far-away land, where you will never again
know hunger or isolation.  Would you like that?>"  The question was posed as
much to her mother as to the girl herself.

        They looked to each other, then back to me, both nodding and smiling.

        At my direction, what meager belongings and food they had were gathered
into a few satchels and a bed sheet.  I left them to that task while I went to
find some certain vendors.

        I returned an hour later, loaded down with camping gear and certain
other provisions.  For the gear, I packed mostly light cloths that could be used
as a small tent, to provide enough protection against the desert and mountains
we'd be heading through.

        I shouldered my packs and grabbed their packs as well, smiling to the
females.  Gods have far more than mortal strength, I informed Karmabai as she
stared at me, wide-eyed.

        Once we were ready, we left.  I made a stop by Zanders' hotel first,
however, to hand him a large box with explicit and precise instructions.  He
would be well taken care of, I promised him that.  After bidding him goodbye, I
left.

        Along with the camping gear, I'd managed to "obtain" quite a bit of
money, so we took cabs and buses for the first few days, where we would end up
near Issyk Kulskaya, Kyrgyzstan.  From there, we'd cross the mountains on foot.
It would take nearly a week and a half, keeping to a brisk pace, to reach the
conifer forests where Scourge was setting up my empire.

        We made decent time as we were driven through the Thar Desert, stopping
at what Americans would call truck stops for food and relaxation, and on the
evening of the fourth day of our journey, the time spent talking.  I inquired as
to their lives and hearts, and in turn I regaled them with tales of what to
expect.  Karmabai was nearly beside herself at the prospect of meeting a real,
live Siberian tiger--a friendly one, at that.

        Once we were dropped off just outside the city of Issyk Kulskaya, we
purchased more provisions and headed off into the mountains.

        The first night was a warm one, surprisingly, so I gently pulled my
girls close and told them we would share our love.  Chanda, back-lit by
moonlight filtering in through our tent, looked surprised.  She glanced at
Karmabai briefly before looking back to me, and I could see the silent question
in her eyes.

        "<Do you yet cling to the false teachings of treacherously absent
gods?>" I asked her, smiling benignly and stroking her left  cheek.  "<Do you
not yet accept that your trust and faith in me will be richly rewarded?>"

        Without thinking, she lightly touched her right cheek, as a faint blush
arose.  "<Of course, Master,>" she said almost shyly, ducking her head as she
smiled.  "<Can you forgive my occasional stumbles?>"

        I laughed and brought her face to mine to kiss her lips tenderly.  "<My
love is such that anything is forgiven, if you come to me with sincerity.>"  My
assurances helped both her and her daughter; why shouldn't I forgive honest
mistakes?  Such pettiness would be expected of the false gods I replaced, but
not I.  I held myself to a much higher standard than THAT.

        I slowly undid her sari, and let the bright canary-yellow cloth slip
through my fingers to the ground.  As the woman's blush deepened, I then started
unfastening her choli, the midriff-baring blouse with high-arched cropping in
front and back to offer not only a delectable view of flesh, but also is well-
suited for the humid Summers.

        Once her breasts were exposed, the choli discarded to the side, Chanda
grinned and ducked her head again, the blush creeping down over the tops of
those beautiful breasts.

        "<You are so beautiful, my pet,>" I whispered as I let a fingertip just
lightly drag atop one.  A glance at Karmabai, who was no less flushed, but nor
was she grinning any less either.  "<Is she not a thing of beauty?>"  That
earned a sincere nod.  "<Just like you.>"

        I kissed Chanda once more, this time with a hint more passion, then
turned to Karmabai.  As with her mother, I discarded the child's sari then
choli, admiring the nearly-flat chest she presented.  I softly stroked the
child's chest as I leaned in and kiss her tenderly.

        When I leaned back, I glanced over to Chanda, saying, "<Look upon your
daughter--look with eyes untarnished by the lies of false gods.  Is she not
truly a thing of wonder and beauty?>"

        Chanda did look, her eyes wandering over the topless girl.  Boldly, she
reached out to stroke my cheek, as she whispered, "<She--she is, yes, Master.>"

        I let my fingertip lightly graze against one tiny nipple, causing the
girl to giggle quietly.  Turning back to Chanda, I started unfastening her
lehenga, the ankle-length skirt.  She squirmed a little, both to help the
process and out of shyness, but within moments it was added to the pile of
discarded clothing.

        I ran my hand slowly along her thigh, smiling at the way her blush
deepened; I didn't even think it could get that red, but there it was.  Looking
briefly at Karmabai, I said, "<Isn't your mother beautiful?>"  The girl nodded
again, and my hand left her mother's thigh to take her and stretch her arm
across me, so she could feel her mother's skin.

        That touch made Chanda dip her head again, but as her daughter caressed
her thigh with the growing boldness of youth, I cupped Chanda's chin and tipped
her head back up.  Her long, black hair was tucked behind each each, then I
said, "<You are showing your daughter your love wonderfully, my pet.  She is
already freer than the disdainful false gods would have her.>"  She nodded at
that, and managed to keep her head up of her own accord.

        Already, Karmabai had started to learn from her culture that her
happiness was irrelevant, but I was determined to show that to be nothing but a
lie.  Her happiness was important, and would come as she learned her place in my
empire, she and her mother both.  They would be at my feet, and what other
position could bring MORE happiness for a female?

        I gently guided Chanda's thighs to open, letting her daughter get a
better look at the pussy as yet hidden by dark fur.  I felt gooseflesh arise on
Chanda's skin as I started caressing her breasts, making me smile.

        I kissed the top of each breast lovingly, then moved Karmabai and myself
so she was kneeling before her mother and thus able to continue exploring.
Meanwhile, I dug around one of the packs until I came out with a canteen, some
soap, and a straight-razor.

        As I lay Chanda on her back, I said, "<Your beauty should NEVER be
hidden, my pet.  Loveliness such as yours deserves to be freely seen and
enjoyed.>"  She nodded hesitantly, though to her credit she showed her trust in
me as she spread her legs of her own accord.

        As Karmabai watched, spellbound, I patiently shaved her mother, from
mons pubis to anus.  Once I toweled her off, Chanda giggled and leaned up to
look down between her legs.  Her beautiful cunt was now proudly on display, and
both Karmabai as well as myself couldn't help but gaze at it.

        I had her lay back down, and I guided Karmabai to lay between her
mother's legs.  After whispering in the child's ear, she giggled and nodded.  I
lay next to Chanda, guiding her lips to mine for an impassioned kiss.  Whatever
else may be said about her deceased husband, he was apparently not a great
lover.  Aside from the expected hesitation at being about to make love with a
man she wasn't married to, there was a genuine lack of skill in the kiss.  She
was, however, a quick learner, her tongue quickly if uncertainly dancing with my
own.

        I grinned when I heard her gasp, knowing it was from the tentative kiss
her daughter had placed on her pussy.  "<Relax,>" I whispered against her lips.
"<Let your daughter love you.>"

        She did her best, she really did, and slowly relaxed against the ground
once more.  I left a trail of kisses down her right cheek, down her neck and
across her throat, then dragged my tongue between her breasts.  I smiled to
myself, seeing how her nipples were hardening, both from my own tender actions,
as well as her daughter's growing boldness in exploring her mother.

        I fondled one breast while suckling on the other, and I suddenly felt
her hand on my head, fingers curling into my hair.  I was more than pleased,
even, or especially, since it was quite likely she wasn't even aware she was
doing it.

        "<Spread your legs for her,>" I whispered.  "<Encourage her.>"  Without
hesitation her thighs widened, her free hand reaching down to blindly stroke her
daughter's hair.

        "<Yes, baby, more...>" she groaned, eyes squeezed tightly shut.  To my
immense pleasure, her hips started rocking, pressing into her daughter's face,
and I gave the child silent encouragement with the lightest pressure on the back
of her head.  It was just a silent way to tell her to go deeper, lick harder.
She definitely got the message.

        Soon her mother was whimpering, and I slowly put her hands on her own
breasts, encouraging her to squeeze and fondle them as she needed.  She required
no further urging, and started groping her breasts with abandon.

        I leaned back, propping my head up with my fist as I watched the two.
Karmabai was nearly insistently probing her mother's pussy.  What she lacked in
skill was more than made up for in the fact that her mother had, if I was right,
never really experienced sexual pleasure before.  In much of that part of the
world, a woman's sexual pleasure is either ignored, or downplayed as
unimportant.  Now, however, she was experiencing it in its glory, given to her
through the love of her daughter.

        Chanda's brow furrowed tightly, eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in her
body started contracting, a high-pitched whine cut off in a squeak--and she
finally crested that wave.  Her orgasm made her shudder violently, and with a
smile I placed a fingertip on the back of Karmabai's head to silently instruct
her to not stop.  The child didn't let up, noisily lapping as her mother's juice
ran freely.

        When Chanda thudded back to the ground, I slowly pulled Karmabai's head
back, kissing her come-covered lips tenderly.  "<You did wonderful, my pet,>"  I
told her honestly, and she smiled, panting, at me.

        Bidding the child to lay on the other side of her mother, I lay down
next to Chanda again, lovingly wiping the sweat from her forehead and nuzzling
my cheek to her temple.

        It was many long moments, spent simply with myself and Karmabai
snuggling against Chanda, before the woman could speak.

        "<What--what was--that...?>" she gasped, a cute, lopsided smile pulling
at the corners of her gaping mouth.

        "<That was your daughter's love for you,>" was my response.  It was
actually rather sad that this creature had never before felt such sexual
release.  To be sure, her husband bedded her numerous times, which only made it
more irksome for me to know that never did he grant this woman an orgasm.

        Chanda looked at her daughter in wonder, then languidly draped an arm
around Karmabai's to pull her close, so they could rest their foreheads against
each other.  such a display warmed me.  Truly--TRULY--for moments such as this
were why I was destined to rule, granted the ability to be a god amongst
mortals.  Never had these two felt such a bond before, and now, thanks to me,
they would forever be linked by their hearts in ways they had never before dared
imagine.

        I waited until Chanda's breathing had resumed a more regular pace, then
I stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers, murmuring, "<Are you ready to
give her your love in return?>"

        Chanda looked up to me, then back to Karmabai, then back to me and
nodded.  She had a small, shy smile--but hidden in that shyness was a thread of
adventurous hope.  This was, still, far beyond what she had been raised to
believe and accept--but I'd just proven that her culture--or any culture,
really--actually understood how love could be shared.

        I moved to lay on my back, propping myself up on my elbows, and directed
Chanda and Karmabai.  Exchanging grins and lip-biting giggles, the child was
laid on her back, then her mother unfastened her lehenga, not even looking as to
where it was lain, so focused she was on her daughter's bared body.

        The small form was simply beautiful in the soft light of the moon
filtering through the thin cloth of the tent, her olive skin almost glowing.
Chanda glanced back to me, still with that smile on her face, and I just gave a
nod with a smile of my own.  Chanda leaned down to kiss her daughter on the
lips, and I just barely caught the whispered, "<I love you so much, my wonderful
daughter...>"

        Mimicking my earlier actions, she started kissing her daughter's chest,
tenderly massaging the nearly-flat chest, suckling lightly on each nipple.
Karmabai closed her eyes, her smile obtaining a rather goofy aspect.  While she
was as yet too young to experience a full, true orgasm, she would come as close
as her mother could bring her.  It was clear the child was already on the way.

        Chanda's full lips kissed downward further, the child's giggle at her
mother's kiss to her navel eliciting one from the woman.  Those lips dipped
lower, and it became difficult to think clearly as Chanda parted her daughter's
legs, pacing a lingering kiss on that tiny, puffy cunt.

        My clothes discretely melted into my body, seeping through my pores to
leave me nude, and my cock started to throb as I watched, at the perfect angle
to see Chanda's tongue dive into those tiny folds.  Small mewls were soon
whispered by the child, who had surely experienced nothing even CLOSE to this
before, living in a country that repressed sexuality in females, started at as
young an age as necessary.

        Once her mother started focusing on her clit, the child's hips started
bucking and writhing, and couldn't resist the urge to stroke myself as I
watched.  Karmabai's small hands kneaded the cloth that served as our floor,
eyes squeezing and relaxing in intervals increasing in speed.

        Suddenly she tensed, lips parting--then relaxed once more.  Without
needing any urging, her mother slowed to a stop, then lay next to her daughter
and wrapped her arms around her.  The child gave a weak smile and nestled into
her mother, and Chanda gave that sweaty brow a soft kiss.

        I smiled and stayed quiet, letting them have this time to further cement
their bond.  Even though my own desire was quite--strong--I could hold it off a
few moments, and it was pleasing to watch them, huddled together and feeling a
stronger love than they'd ever felt before.

        I caught Chanda's eye, saying, "<Do you now see how love should truly
be?  The love until now denied you and your daughter?>"  She smiled wider and
nodded.

        Once they were both rested, I got to my knees, the eyes of both females
drawn to my erect cock.  I smiled and bade Chanda to me, having her lay on her
back before me.  She needed nothing more than the initial direction; she may
have been deprived of love and acceptance, but she knew how to lay on her back
for a man.

        Karmabai knelt nearby, watching with interest, as I leaned forward and
rubbed the head of my cock against her mother's folds.  Chanda closed her eyes
as I rubbed against her clit, the sensation exciting us both.  She was diving
into a world of sensuality, placing her faith in her god.  This trust aroused me
almost beyond description, and seeing her below me, a woman who until this eve
hadn't known such a world of pleasure giving into it--just seeing her made it
so difficult to control myself.

        I slowly slid into her, stroking her thighs as I smiled down at her.
She reached up, caressing my biceps, returning my smile.  As I settled inside of
her she let out a long, soft breath.

        Bringing Karmabai over, she required little urging to start kissing and
suckling her mother's breasts.  She was shy at first, but the way her mother
arched her back and took a hand from my arm to curl around her her, she quickly
relaxed.

        I pulled my hips back, starting a rhythm that was soon to quicken.  It
wasn't long before the sound of my hips meeting Chanda's thighs became audible.
She was being driven to sexual heaven once again, the inexpert but sincere
nursing of her daughter combining with being truly made love to with genuine
skill and patience.

        My hips were twisting, lifting and lowering, moving around to add even
more stimulation for her--and it certainly seemed to be working.  Soon she was
panting loudly, nails digging into my arm, her daughter's hair being clutched
tightly.  Unlike women from many other nations, she didn't even have any idea
about "faking" orgasms; this was truth, sincerity, her honest reactions to the
love she was feeling.

        It's cliché, I know, but it's true--here, time really did lose meaning.
I knelt there pushing into her, arching my hips to let my shaft rub her clit,
or moving sideways to give a different angle, and eventually we both were
moaning and gasping, the heady scent of sex permeating the tent once more.  It
was a far-tougher struggle than I thought possible, but I managed to stave off
my own release until I felt--and heard--her fall over that edge.  As her loving
god, I of course wasn't about to rob her of such joy.

        Our orgasms seemed intertwined on a level I didn't really think
possible.  This wasn't like the times I'd fucked my pets, or even Scourge, where
thoughts and emotions were shared and enhanced; this was--something different.
Spiritual.  This was something deeper than mere thought and emotion.

        I fell over, heaving in my attempts to regain my breath, and I could
hear beautiful Chanda do the same.  We both were limp pools of flesh, trying to
regain our composure and failing so horribly it made us both smile.  If, that
is, you can call what was likely no more than a two- or three-millimeter
difference a smile.

        We all snuggled together, catching our breaths.  I nuzzled my lips
against Chanda's cheek while stroking Karmabai's hip, enjoying this moment of
quiet reflection.  I could nearly sense the pondering going on in my devotee's
mind, and the way she relaxed against me told me it wasn't an unfavorable
collection of thoughts.

        Perhaps she was pondering the new direction her life had taken, the way
this life felt so right on a near-instinctive level yet would have been decried
by her birth-culture--and so many others on this rotten planet, for that matter.

        I didn't know for sure, of course, as for the first time I left her
heart and mind completely her own, but she was intelligent and possessed
admirable cognitive capabilities.  I, her god, had done what science and
religion could not--heal her. Further, I had shown her a love deeper than
anything she had before experienced, a love that drew her and her daughter
together, a love that brought her closer to me, and gave her warmth and a sense
of stability and acceptance.  That it would not have been accepted by nearly
anyone else should make it sad, even pitiable--but no basis for fear.

        Quietly, she smiled and turned her head, seeking my lips with her own.
The kiss she gave me was soft loving, even adoring, and I knew then that she was
mine.  No matter any future slips of hesitation, she was devoting herself to her
god as best and fully as she was able.

        I returned that kiss, cupping her cheek and stroking it with my thumb.
I loved the sweet taste of her lips, the soft feel of them.  I was actually
somewhat disappointed when the kiss was nearing its end, and I made it linger as
long as I could.

        When it finally did end, we looked at each other and smiled.  It was--
simply beautiful, really, that smile.  Another of those she hasn't had reason to
offer in so, so long.  I traced her bottom lip with my thumb, happy to take that
time.

        We finally pulled apart, and I leaned over her to cup Karmabai's chin,
so I could offer her a warm, loving, lingering kiss.  There was shyness in her
as she returned it, but no hesitation.

        Pulling back a little, I looked steadily into her eyes, smiling warmly
at her.  "<Are you ready, my pet?>" I whispered, knowing I didn't have to
specify what I was asking about.

        She glanced at her mother, then looked back to me and nodded.  That
shyness intensified, but she seemed to be trying to control it and move forward.
I moved around her mother to kneel before her, my cock starting to harden once
more from the sight of the child.  She was such a delectable creature, and I was
nearly joyous beyond measure at having her.

        I laid her on her back and slowly spread her legs, taking obvious
pleasure in looking at her.  There was an almost embarrassed quality to her
smile as I gazed at those perfectly smooth folds, still glistening from her
mother's dedicated work.  Smiling anew, I lightly rubbed those folds, taking
extreme care to not hurt the child.

        Her clit was at first teased, only light grazed of my finger, and it
wasn't until she started to relax more fully that I began to massage it
directly, rubbing it with my fingertip lightly.  Her eyes closed, and I rubbed
those moistening lips, myself starting to have trouble controlling my desire.

        Keeping one hand continuing the massaging of her tiny pussy, I crawled
closer, nestling the head of my cock against the hymen-protected entrance.
I didn't tell her that it might hurt, since I was trying to keep her mind, shall
we say--occupied.  As well, I was going to do everything within my power to keep
it from hurting much.  She deserved no less.

        I quickened the rubbing of her small clit, as I eased into her, gaining
only millimeters each second.  She emitted only the softest of grunts as I broke
through, and, judging from the look on her face, whatever discomfort I caused
was soon forgotten.

        Gasping softly, I continued to push into her, stopping when I'd worked
only about half of my shaft in.  I didn't want to hurt her unnecessarily, of
course, so didn't dare push in any farther.  I knelt there, massaging her clit
as I let her get used to being filled.

        Before I let myself do anything more, I silently beckoned her mother to
my side, and switched her hand for mine, showing her how to rub her daughter's
clit.  This freed me to place both hands on either side of the small body to
hold myself up.

        When the last traces of discomfort faded from Karmabai's face, I pulled
back, almost as slow as before.  It--was so very arduous, keeping the rhythm
slow and gentle.  Her small form hadn't been so loved before, as it should have
been, so I had to exert, if I may be so immodest, rather tremendous self-
control.  Of course, without my symbiote's immeasurable aid, it would have been
impossible.

        I honestly still have no idea how long it took, but each thrust was oh-
so slightly quicker than the one before, until I was moving much more fluidly.
I didn't dare try and push anymore than halfway into her.

        The feel of her SO tight, velvety inner walls gripping me and sliding
along my cock was simply beyond any dream.  It--it felt so wonderful, so warm,
so inviting, so simply MARVELOUS.  If it weren't for my symbiote, I know beyond
doubt that I wouldn't have lasted long.  As it was, it was a fight, to wait for
her to feel the rise of what I suppose could be called a miniature release.  I
gave silent thanks to Venus that I'd been able to keep her occupied enough so as
to not let her feel much besides discomfort, which itself was giving way to her
release.

        Once again, small mewls slipped from her throat, and I felt her small
hands grip my arms rather tightly.  The sudden fluttering of her pussy around my
cock was simply too much; even my symbiote couldn't hold my own release back any
longer.

        Groaning loud enough to make my throat hurt, I came rather violently.
It actually HURT, such was the power of my orgasm.  It took the last dregs of
willpower I and my symbiote had left to not start thrusting as hard as I could,
but--more thanks to Venus--I barely managed.  As my orgasm flushed through me,
my teeth grit hard enough to make the muscles ache, but--such a wonderfully
small price to pay.

        When it finally ended, I used the last of my energy to slip out of the
child without too much haste, then collapsed onto my back in a gasping, sweaty
pile of lethargy.  I was vaguely aware of the females moving to snuggle on
either side of me, making me smile what was, I'm quite sure, the dopiest smile
on any man's face ever.

        I had to struggle to form coherent thoughts, but I managed to kiss
Karmabai's forehead, then whisper, "<D--did I hurt--hurt you, b--baby...?>"

        She smiled up at me, then shook her head.  "<No, sir,>" was her
response, given softly but without hesitation.

        "<G--good, my lovely--lovely pet...>"

        When we started to cool down, my symbiote seeped through my skin and
billowed itself outward to cover us all as a warm blanket.  It was most
comforting, really, feeling the life-force emanating from it.  When all was
quiet, one could actually FEEL the very subtle ebb and flow of the symbiote's
life.  In a way, it was like being wrapped almost head to toe in joy and love.
Not a bad way to fall asleep at all--especially with two girls, each with
pussies still dripping with seed on either side.


                        *              *              *


        Each morning, we made love again, the three of us.  I would pack up the
tent and such while they used rags and water from the canteens to bathe.  We
would hike as briskly as possible, and set up camp again each evening.  Nights
would be spent talking, making love, and sometimes talking again afterward.  It
would begin again the next day.

        Food were what vegetables and berries the girls gathered, and the
occasional wild hare hunted by me.  Roasted over a campfire, it was quite tasty
even without much in the way of spices.  And I had soon collected enough pelts
to save and make caps and boots.  I didn't have any leather-working skills, so I
packed the furs away in bags to save for later.

        Chanda and Karmabai felt more comfortable with each passing day, each
laughing brightly when the mood struck.  They didn't even complain as we started
traversing colder lands, much to my delight.  They more than accepted me into
their lives and all I brought with me, but happily looked forward to whatever
else would come their way.  I got the definite sense that they felt freer in
those weeks than either of them had in their entire lives.

        Once they got used to the notion, they looked forward to meeting my
Queen, the girls of my growing empire, and taking their places within that
empire.  It would be so different, to be sure, but look at what they had
experienced so far--I promised them love of a depth they couldn't imagine, and
they had felt that.  They knew I kept my word, and I promised them acceptance,
places of honor, and a home in which they need never know fear, pain, or
isolation.

        It was nearly three weeks after we started walking that we finally came
to the conifer forests of the Khangai Mountains.  I smiled when I noticed the
nearly-imperceptible movement of our shadower.

        "I have returned!" I called out in English, making my devotees pause and
look at me curiously.  In a moment, a woman stepped out from behind a tree.  It
almost should have been impossible for her to hide behind it, but such was my
Queen's training of my guard that she did it as close to perfectly as she did.

        She held a longbow in her left hand, a steel-tipped arrow set in place
and held with her right.  My Rajasthani attire billowed, darkening in places,
becoming golden in others, so I stood once more as Poison.  The archer had, of
course, recognized my voice, which is the only reason she stepped into view in
the first place, but here was proof that I was her King.

        She smiled and knelt on one knee briefly, then stood and took the arrow
from the bow to slide it back into the leather quiver at her left hip.

        The woman, clad in yellows that helped her blend into the Autumn colors
of the forest, said, "Your Queen awaits you, Master.  Shall I accompany you?"

        "No, girl," said I, shaking my head as my "costume" puffed out and
billowed around me, once more resuming the looser attire of the Rajasthani
outfit.  I then introduced my devotees to her, telling them that there were many
more wandering the forests, keeping my empire safe.

        They marveled at the archer, especially her skin-tight costume, and
were surprised when I related how much training went into my guards before they
were allowed to serve.  It would take a crack special-ops team to slip by them
unnoticed.

        We headed deeper into the forest, and a few hours after meeting the
archer we came to the edge of a clearing.

        Innumerable acres wide, with many buildings in the process of being
erected.  Barracks for guards, housing for members of the Delphi Project, my
own home, and such.  My devotees stared at the people milling about, every
female nude and collared, and when they asked what the emblem so many of them
wore meant, I told them it was my symbol.  The stylized phoenix rising from the
flames symbolized the rebirth I would bring the world.  I'm not sure what struck
them more, the emblem and its meaning or the fact that at least three-fifths of
the women wore it.

        The rest were, of course, women belonging to the Project members that
had started to settle in and help build.  Few of my own pets--at least few of
those not kept in my home--were branded, tattooed, or pierced, but most of the
others had some combination.  There were plenty of men, too, of course, and
Karmabai asked in a whisper why the women were nude.  I told her.  They were as
beautiful to the men who owned them as she and her mother were to me, and though
the season was turning colder they were working hard enough to keep themselves
warm--and as beautiful as they were, why should that beauty be hidden?  Karmabai
slowly accepted that.

        We started making our way inward, past a woman clad in crimson leather
armor, bearing a sword in her belt and a shield on her arm, accompanied by a
woman in green with a staff strapped to her back, two pair of nunchaku in her
belt.

        When the pair noticed us, they bowed and expressed their extreme
pleasure at my return, and I had to grin as they hastened to spread the word of
my arrival.  When I heard the faint rumbling, I had my devotees stand off to
the side as I braced myself.

        From behind what would eventually become a storehouse, Agrippa came
running at full-tilt.  My symbiote had JUST enough time to surge up and add
thick padding to my back before the tiger tackled me.  While I adored the cat,
and loved how much he cared for me--being tackled by a full-grown Siberian tiger
hurts.  A LOT.  Even if you have a symbiote cranking your system up to supreme
efficiency.

        I had the wind knocked right out of me, but I managed a raspy laugh as I
vigorously scritched his cheeks, delighting in the cat rubbing his head against
mine.

        "Alright, you lummox!" I exclaimed, grinning.  "Let me up already!"  He
huffed right in my face and added another head-nuzzle before he would move and
let me get to my feet.  Still grinning, I dusted myself off, then got to one
knee and beckoned my devotees over.

        "<Beloved pets, this is Agrippa,>" I told them, encouraging them closer.
They did move closer, though it was with more hesitation than I'd seen in them
for quite a while.  On the other hand, Agrippa WAS a full-grown Siberian tiger,
and I doubted they'd seen the like in person before--at least not this close.

        I gently took Karmabai's hand, bringing it to Agrippa's muzzle.  The
tiger sniffed it rather loudly, then rumbled a purr and nuzzled his cheek into
it.  The child grinned and tentatively petted his head, and I motioned for
Chanda to come closer as well.  As they both stroked the tiger--who of course
basked in the petting, as much of an attention-whore as he was--they started to
lose their hesitation.

        After a few minutes, I picked Karmabai up and lightly placed her on
Agrippa, resting more or less on his shoulders.  I had the cat walk slowly, and
showed her how to go with the rocking motion.  Once she got used to it, she
flashed a grin so large--well, I'm still surprised that it didn't split her face
right in half.

        The next one to meet us was my favored cunt, riding her horse Prince
bareback at full gallop.  She obviously only remembered that Agrippa wasn't on
friendly terms with any horse at the last second, making the steed skid to a
stop.  She hopped off while Prince was still skidding, bare feet a blur as she
ran over and literally leapt into my arms.

        I laughed as I caught her, returning her impassioned kiss gratefully.
It was nice to be with her again.  I had to set the teen down after only a few
moments, so I could make the proper introductions.  She greeted my devotees
warmly, though didn't take so much as a step away from me.  I noticed a hint of
jealous uncertainty in Karmabai's eyes, so I made a point of leaning over to her
and kissing her passionately.  At the lack of jealousy from the favored cunt,
she started to relax once more.

        Our growing group headed onward once more, and thankfully there weren't
any more lengthy stops from greeters.  Some Project members, but the
conversations were short-lived, and usually occurred without having to stop.

        Eventually we crested a small hill and there it was--a soon-to-be-
finished manor, styled loosely after Roman architecture.  I could see Scourge
directing men and women, as stone blocks were put in place and mortared.  I
simply watched, for a little bit, as my Queen directed the men and women
expertly, the breeze making her ruffled near-hint of material that didn't cover
anything at all flutter.

        She turned, freezing when she saw me.  Beaming a grin she jogged toward
me, as did I to her.  We met and she wrapped her arms around me in a hug that
likely would have turned destroyed a mortal man.

        "Our King!  We missed you, we--we feared..."  Her whispered voice
trailed off, and we saw the end of that sentence in her eyes.  Since I hadn't
returned quickly, she feared that Amun character had finished me.  Knowing her,
she also used whatever favors she had left to send out proverbial "feelers" to
see what might have been heard--which, of course, would have been nothing.

        I had her lead the way to our tent, which housed only a few items, the
main two being a large bed, our thrones, and our pets.  The Sluts and Baby Maker
were chained to a stake set in one corner of the tent, and they swished their
hips to make  their symbiote-made "tails" wag.  I kissed their heads and stroked
their hair for a few moments, then stretched out on the bed, bidding my Queen,
favored cunt, and devotees to join me.  Agrippa sat down next to the bed near my
head.

        We spent the next few hours getting caught up.  I told the Queen all
that had happened, taking the time to translate for the devotees.  They marveled
at my earlier life, and they all took an interest in this Amun-her-Shepshef.

        We had, just a few days previous, figured out who this person had to be.
There is a race known to the symbiote species, a race of beings--the term used
very loosely--who are, weirdly, born in stars.  Their life-force is tied to the
star of their birth, and they "watch over" their solar system.  Not much else is
known about them, and even that much was the culmination of nearly insignificant
bits of information patiently pieced together from every species the symbiotes
had experience with--and what few sentient races exist in the galaxy, the
symbiotes were experienced with most of them.

        The only reason why the symbiotes even knew these creatures were tied to
their birth-stars is because they killed the one from their native system.  As
they started spreading across the galaxy, their own system's "guardian"
attempted to intervene, to show itself and guide them away from the disdain they
held for the "lower races" of the galaxy.  Eons later, this erupted into a war
that destroyed the star--and thus killed the "guardian".

        They sought knowledge of the "guardian's" species, and it took countless
more eons to piece together what rather minuscule bit of information they had.
However, there WERE clues.  We just had to figure them out.  And because the
over all information was so sparse, it didn't "click" for my symbiote until so
long after meeting Amun.

        I ended the catching-up with our arrival at the Project, adding praise
for being so far ahead of schedule.  Scourge took over, relating what she'd been
up to in the weeks since leaving in the helicopter.

        "Marie"--the human Scourge had been before bonding with her symbiote--
had officially resigned from Thatcher-Greggs, International, then managed to fake
her death to let her as Scourge better focus on building the empire.  She, as I,
had lost many of her contacts over the weeks; though a short amount of time,
maintaining contacts can be--and usually is, contrary to the fiction of movies
and novels--strenuous.  Going without contact for so long meant those who were
contacts from extortion found ways to cover themselves, others who owed favors
starting conveniently "forgetting" while building cover for themselves, and so
on and so on.

        At this point, the strongest contact we had was the Delphi Project, our
allies and the sole reason we were able to start building our empire in the
Khangai Mountains.  They were good allies, too--strong and loyal.  The Project
had ties around the world, so they were able to get us the supplies we needed.
In return, they would be spared the heavenly wrath I would bring the world.
Good deeds should never go unrewarded, and loyalty should be rewarded doubly.

        Speaking of, though I'd glossed in my initial retelling, once Scourge
was done catching me up, I further detailed the vision I was blessed with, the
plans I had for the future.

        We would rule the world, someday.  It wouldn't be soon, and it wouldn't
be easy, but we could.  The main hitch was Amun.  Technically immortal, in a
sense, he couldn't be outright killed, and having sworn himself our enemy he
would continue to be a thorn in our sides.  However, if he could be kept busy,
we could slowly start spreading.  And we had an idea for how to occupy him.

        The night was spent in an orgiastic sharing of love.  There was initial
shyness on the part of my devotees, but they were lovingly eased into it, and
soon both of them happily became swept up in it all.  The next morning, Scourge
pulled me aside, needling me about my "having gone soft" on the pets.  That, I
told her, was my duty as god.  Part of my calling was love-making.

        That led me to her duty.

        "You, my darling Queen," I said, holding her shoulders and smiling at
her, "are reborn, now, just as I was.  You are Vidisia Orculia, she who cleaves
soul from body, she who resides over the underworld that awaits them."  I could
see from the look in her eyes that she was rather pleased.  She had a certain--
predilection, you could say--for carnage and destruction.  She was being reborn
into a goddess, whose divinely-charged duty was--to basically continue being
her.  I believe the youths would, in the vernacular, say, "Not a bad ticket."

        We discussed plans for Amun, and she agreed to personally see to it.
Thankfully it wouldn't require her to leave the empire for long, as what I
needed could mostly be handled by the Project.

        As such, slightly longer than three months later, I was standing in
Central Park, New York City, New York State, United States of America.  It
hadn't been long since I was in America, but the changes in my very soul made it
seem so--novel.

        I stood on a little hill, somewhere between The Reservoir and Ninety-
Seventh, dressed in my royal attire, only now covered head-to-toe against the
Winter cold.  It was just after one-thirty in the morning, and the cold air
stung my face, but I was kept warm by my symbiote.  At my feet was a leather
satchel, around the size of a "backpack".

        I smiled, looking up into the sky, watching a fireball streak toward me.
So wonderfully predictable.  I'd had the word spread that I wanted to talk to
him, there, then.  He didn't seem the sort to ignore contact with humanity, so
I was confident word would reach him sooner or later.  I was just glad that
however he sensed my symbiote, it seemed to have some sort of limit on its
range, or perhaps my being sparse with using my abilities helped.

        Either way, he landed not three yards in front of me, and it was all my
symbiote and I could do to not react to the sudden heat.  I did have to shield
my eyes with my arm, though that was partially a tiny concession.  Enemies will
usually take pleasure in even small accomplishments, and if they take pleasure,
they are that much more likely to not IMMEDIATELY slaughter you.  That--was
important, obviously.

        Grimacing, he stalked toward me, flames running along his wings and
hands.

        "I am glad to see you have another costume," I said pleasantly, making
his brow furrow in anger.  I could see he was about to rush me and shove those
flaming hands down my throat, so I quickly said, "I know what you are,
'guardian'."

        That made him pause, and he narrowed his eyes.  "You know nothing," he
growled.

        That pause was telling.  I was hitting close to something--though I
didn't have any clue what, really.  "Oh, but I do.  You were born, shall we say,
in a star.  Our star.  Sol."

        His eyes narrowed even further, becoming mere slits.  I thought I was
being cheeky, even provocative, but something in how I said that made him more
cautious.  Not what I was expecting, but obviously I was going to take it and
run with it.

        He let out a slow breath, and I could have SWORN I saw more steam than
would have come simply from a normal exhalation.  Curiouser and curiouser.
"What do you want, demon," he hissed, making a statement out of it rather than a
question.  I almost didn't catch it, so low it was.

        "Ah, not demon--god, actually."

        That surprised him, and after a beat spent staring at me with a cocked
eyebrow, he laughed, loud and long.  "A GOD?!" he retorted, incredulous.  "A
god.  Of course.  How many of you thought you were gods.  What a small mind you
truly have."

        I cocked my own brow, adding in a pursing of my lips.  This foolish
bastard was baiting me!  To my annoyance, it was working.  I decided to not take
that bait, instead focusing on the matter at hand.

        "Laugh as you will, my cockamamy, cantankerous canary.  I have bid you
here for a reason."

        The flames surrounding his hands shot up in intensity, and he sneered
a derisive grin at me.  "You BID me?!  Think you that my presence could be so
easily commanded?  How arrogant and misguided.  Tell me why I should not rid my
planet of you and the rest of the contagion you call brethren."

        So.  He seemed to know of my Queen Vidisia Orculia.  Or perhaps he was
referring to my growing network of drones.  Either way, it was irrelevant.  I
held up a finger, smiling and saying, "Ah, for that, I would better show than
explain."

        Crouching, I opened the satchel and pulled out a small television, the
kind you'll hardly find anymore.  Before this meeting I'd made sure the
batteries were fresh and it could get a news station, so now I turned it on and
handed it to him.  "Watch."

        He took it, thankfully snuffing out the flame from his right hand before
he did, and looked at it.  It was a retelling of an earlier news story--eight
people on the five major continents, had committed suicide at (almost) the EXACT
same moment, and all by leaping off of a tall building, to their death.

        Amun looked over the small television at me, bloody rage in his eyes.
The television exploded as the flames returned to that hand.  "What have you to
do with that?!" he snarled.

        "They were simply a demonstration," I said as I brushed debris from my
toga.  "You and I both know that I could never kill you without killing this
entire world in the process, and I'm certainly not about to do that, since I
want it for myself.  You also find inexplicable delight in trying to torment,
even kill, me--which I just can't have."

        I clasped my hands together with a loud clap, beaming a smile at the
winged warbler.  "So.  Here's the deal--you leave me alone, no one dies
unnecessarily.  You continue to interfere, well--I'll be able to kill MILLIONS
before you could even FIND me."  That wasn't an exaggeration.  It was a bald-
faced lie.  He didn't need to know that, however.

        "What will you do?" he asked, lips barely moving at this point.

        "You don't need to know."

        "I must know if your--contemptible plans will be worse than slaughtering
them."

        I pursed my lips again, this time in thought.  After a moment, I nodded
once, then glanced behind him and made a quick beckoning motion.  Sweet, young,
nude Karmabai stepped out from behind a bush and hesitantly walked toward us.
Aside from her collar, a sturdy and pretty piece of leather-working, she wore a
cloak made from hare pelts.  Those were all she wore, but they were enough.
With her came her mother, dressed the same.  Just looking at them, even then,
dealing with Amun, I wanted to strip their cloaks and make love to them both
right then and there, but--of course, I had to focus on what was important right
then.

        Amun lifted a brow as my lovely pets came to my side, huddling against
me and looking at the "man" with a look somewhere between fear and contempt.

        "I assume you can sense that they have no trace of symbiote within
either of them."  I spared him only a glance before looking down to my Karmabai.

        He snorted softly, straightening his posture.  "You changed them before,
then removed your--PESTILENCE."

        I affected a look of hurt and indignation.  "I did not!  You should know
better than that.  Don't your people tell you anything?  You should know that
such large overhauls require that the symbiote don't leave."  Which was only
true in a SENSE, but, again, he didn't need to know that.  "No, these two are
here completely of their own free will.  As will as many of the rest of the
planet's inhabitants as possible.  We might, I admit, have to create a few
drones--but they'll be happy, well cared-for.  No loving god could treat his
subjects--even his drones--any less, wouldn't you agree?"

        "You.  Are.  No.  God..." he hissed, and once again I would have sworn I
saw more steam than what would have been possible solely from exhaling.  He took
two steps closer, bringing him within striking distance, though I stood my
ground and kept that smile on my face.  "Know this--if I EVER sense, or even
hear a vague allusion, that ANY creature on this world down to microbes are EVER
hurt by you, I will rip your symbiote from you and send it AND its host into
Sol's embrace.  Am.  I.  CLEAR?"

        With as much audacity as I could muster, I reached up and pinched his
cheek.  "Clear as crystal," I replied cheerily, dipping into vernacularism a bit
more than I liked, but it achieved the goal of needling him even further.  In a
burst of flame he soared into the sky, and I am VERY sure I heard him roar in
the distance.

        I smiled, hugging my devotees to me, watching the creature's trail of
fire dissipate.

        "<Let's build my empire and bring my fellow gods to Earth, shall we?>" I
said to the girls, and they grinned at me.

        "<Yes, Master,>" they said in unison.



                               END OF CHAPTER SIX




