Forum Saradas
Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction => Muscular Women Fiction => Topic started by: GLKnight on April 17, 2018, 06:02:10 am
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Sorry I've been mostly inactive. Working on a couple books, taking care of my health and whatnot lead to me not continuing some of my stories on here. Now that I'm doing better, figured I'd at least show I'm trying to do more, so here's a new one. And hopefully some updates in the coming weeks for both A Chance Encounter and Another Birthday.
With that said...
Getting With The Goddesses
by GLKnight
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"Dude, you gotta come to this gig! The Knuxxx are fucking INCREDIBLE!"
Brandon slowly turned his head up at his roommate, Nicodemus. His high and tight hair was dyed Electric Purple this month.
"Come on," Brandon sighed, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. "ANOTHER punk show? That'll make it 4 this month..."
"You mean FIVE," Nicodemus exclaimed proudly, the jewelry adorning his right arm jingling under his black long sleeve shirt as he held his right hand out like a child would.
Brandon drifted back to his World Literature homework on his desk.
"Exactly. I don't think my ears could handle more damage. Besides, the last show was so terrible, I was pretty sure my ears were starting to bleed..."
"Bro," Nicodemus said, kneeling down beside his desk with an imploring look in his eyes. "TRUST ME! You wanna know what makes this show so fucking special?"
Putting down his pencil, he put his hand on his chin, and shot Nicodemus a look of incredulity.
"What makes this show sooo special?"
Nicodemus leaned in close, and smiled broadly.
"It's an ALL GIRL BAND LINEUP!"
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The club was small, cramped and somewhat packed. All examples of the kinds of things that Brandon didn't really like. But one look at the booth by the bar, full of customers to his right, and Brandon knew he had made the right choice to come.
"About fucking time we saw the Knuxxx! To girls night, ladies!"
The venue was almost nothing but female customers.
"Knuxxx goes on as the headliners," Nicodemus began, his eyes roving around the crowd. "So that means we've got 3 bands before them. I'm gonna hit the bar, you want anything?"
"Maybe some water, man. But before you go, who's playing before them?"
The sound of guitar strings being plucked and tuned pulled Brandon's eyes towards the stage. The only thing he saw above the crowd was the Liberty Spikes of whoever the guitarist was on stage, tuning their guitar for the show.
"Let's see," he replied, staring at his phone. "There's the Hags. Saw them on a bill with Rockin' Throbbin'. That show was pretty killer. East Coast Hardcore with a bit of Oi, IN-FUCKING-SANE pit. Then there's the Lil Scarlings. They're okay Pop Punk, in my opinion. Trying a bit too hard to be AFI and the like for me. And the opening act is... Huh, never heard of these girls before."
Brandon turned back towards Nicodemus, curious about what was confusing him.
"What do you mean?"
The blistering of drums, and heavy vibe of a bass being tuned washed over the venue.
"It's a new band, apparently."
"How new are we talking?"
Brandon looked at the stage again, and notice the stage now had 5 women on it. The crowd was beginning to notice, and the atmosphere grew heavy with the anticipation of the building fury they all knew was about to be unleashed.
"LIKE FIRST GIG EVER," Nicodemus shouted.
"What are they called?"
The lady with the giant spiky purple mohawk stepped to the mic, and threw the horns into the air. And at her signal, the band began to play.
The waves of music crashed into and around Brandon. Something clicked within, and suddenly he felt both lighter and heavier than anyone could ever feel. The sensation of a thousand streams of energy coursed through him, as he thought of nothing but drowning in its presence.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Welcome to Larkin's! Tonight you're here to experience the pinnacle of FEMININE POWER! THE KNUXX! THE HAGS! THE LITTLE SCARLINGS! AND MAKING OURSELVES KNOWN AT LAST! WE ARE THE SOUND! WE ARE THE FURY! WE ARE THE GODDESSES!"
The lead singer raised her right hand in the air, and grabbed the neck of her guitar with her left.
"SO, CONVERTED BELIEVERS! WORSHIP US! AND THRASH IN PLEASURE AND PAIN! AND MOVE YOUR-"
The band went quiet, taking the sound of the audience with them.
"MUSCLE MAAAAAAACHIIIIIIINE!" the singer screamed, and as soon as she went silent, she swung her arm down and strummed her guitar.
The sounds of chord progressions somewhat similar to Anti-Nowhere League's "So What", but in a different key and pattern, with a faster rhythm, broke down the walls, and got the audience to roar in response.
"GET ME A WATER," Brandon shouted at Nicodemus, hurriedly walking to the crowd. "I'LL BE IN FRONT!"
Before Nicodemus could even respond, Brandon was already making his way into the pit, towards the front of the stage..
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Alright, good start, I am looking forward to seeing what these goddesses have for us puny humans to worship. k+!
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Gotta admit... I never thought I'd ever experience punk rock and female muscle together like this. Novel and long overdue!
Also, the Hip Hop/Rock band "the Knux" is also pretty good. I saw them at a house party once!
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Nice start can’t wait for another part
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Reminds me of something Grimmtoof did on Writing.com. That's not a criticism; I honestly like where this story is going.
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The almost eerily apocalyptic currents of bodies thrashed and slammed against itself, a tidal wave of sonic youth and vigor as Brandon tried his best to cut a path through the storm of flesh and hair. A blond with big tits floated above his head, topless and rolling just right for her nipple to almost slip itself into his mouth, just teasing enough to make him want to latch on before the wave shifted and pulled her away. A giant of a man with long brown hair lost his footing, and was swept away to his left, and disappeared below. A guy bracing himself by the wall, guarding what was obviously his girlfriend, herself completely lost in the blasting drums and penetrating bass coming from the speaker a couple feet in front of them. And more than he could even hope to comprehend as he was battered on all sides.
But Brandon himself felt nothing but serenity and focus. His ears were tuned to the lead guitar, keyed into the vocals, and eyes locked onto the spires of spikes of hair on the head of the lead singer he immediately felt something for. Every step guided by the beat, every jostle a tug forward, and every vibration taking the place of every heartbeat in his chest. Until finally, FINALLY! The crowd began to ease and part.
One step, the lights of the stage began to cut through the mire of men and women as they made way for him.
Two step, the light became brilliant, and he raised his hand to shield his eyes. He made it to the front! The last two people in his way, both ladies who had turned to look back at him, smiled gently before stepping to the side to let him take his place at the front of the stage.
Third step, he took his spot, and looked up at the band. 5 beautiful women, all of a different ethnicity, all in different cultural appearances, and all of them with a palpable air of authority and power, furthered by the fact that they were all in shape, at a minimum.
On drums was a lady of obviously Hispanic or Brazilian origin. Adorned in jewels, pendants attached to a gold choker, rings and other jewelry, she wore a gold lame top, flowing wildly as she feverishly slammed the kit in front of her. Her dark hair was long and straight, framing an almost unnaturally pretty face decked out in traditional tribal makeup. Her eyes cool and uncaring as she dominated the toms and bass and snare, manipulated the cymbals, and danced the songs to the rhythm she blasted out from her drums at her own pace.
On bass was what some would call the anomaly of the band: a short and rather thin looking Asian girl, hair done up in pigtails, and decked out in a gothic lolita dress. But then Brandon noticed the blue face paint, the oni mask she had hanging around her neck, the hairband with two little horns sticking out of it, the platform boots she wore, all paired well and perfectly with the green and black striped leather jacket she wore over it all. Her face was the brightest out of the entire band, almost gleefully exuding the energy to get the show going.
Standing over the keys was a dusky skinned woman with long, dark wavy, wearing gold and copper bangles, and by all accounts the most modestly dressed in a simple black leather jacket, a dark skirt, and a light blue shirt with the band's logo (this time written in Arabic or Farsi or something, Brandon wasn't sure). But out of all the ladies, it was what was IN the shirt that helped set her apart, as the keyboardist was by far the bustiest lady in the building. But whereas most would have a problem with their own size, she showed no such issues, easily bouncing and rocking along with the rest of the people in the venue, not even showing any concern for her size and what might happen if she kept doing what she did.
On rhythm guitar stood what would be considered the giant of the band, an amazonian black woman with her natural hair tied back in a white t-shirt with the band's logo, a pair of tight black jeans, and her own leather jacket, this one a vibrant red . Her figure almost completely filled out all of her clothes, coiled and ready for every action. Her large hands easily encompassed the neck of her six string guitar, her thick fingers easily gliding along and pressing down for every chord. Something Brandon felt was par for the course until he realized just how thick the strings were, and the realization for the finger strength needed to even make a strong strummed chord sound. He wasn't sure if she heard him, but when he gasped at the thought, a look of seductive satisfaction immediately crept across her face as she chuckled to herself. She pursed her plumps lips, and her fingers began to do their magic as she dove into a solo.
Then he turned his attention towards the lead singer, and he was sure his heart skipped a beat when he saw that she had her crystal blue eyes on him the entire time. A spark shot through him when their eyes met, as he felt the streams of energy well up within him again, building higher and higher until he was sure that he would explode in a furious ball of starlight and eternity. Suddenly, he felt that he had discovered the meaning of life itself, of the purpose of existence. He was awash in so many different sensations and emotions at once: lust, love, hope, fear, all the emotions of existence and experience in an orgasmic enlightenment. The way her hair matched her jacket and eye shadow, perfectly complimenting the yellow shirt she wore underneath, both filled by an incredibly powerful looking frame. The fact her jeans left nothing to the imagination, her legs long and full, straining the capacity of the denim and threatening to burst the damn things wide. The wry, "you're going to be mine" look on her face as she played, looking directly at him with a clear desire for his touch and attention.
Then the crowd roared, and Brandon realized that the song was over. And he began to cheer, but both he and the lead singer's eyes never parted.
"Oh my God,"he thought to himself. Then, he noticed that her eyebrows lifted as her smiled became more flirtatious, almost like she could hear his thoughts. And he suddenly imagined her response.
"Oh my GODDESS, actually"before she began to giggle, and turned to her band to revel in the feeling of a great start, and letting the crowd die down a little before getting to their next song.
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Interested to see where this goes.
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Very nice! I loved your description of each of the band mates, each having their own unique look and feel. You have a feeling that each is strong, but in their own ways, I like the bass player, shorter, leaner girls tend to be my weakness, especially if they turn out strong enough to lift and overpower a much bigger guy. Looking forward to more! k+!
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The sonic wall that blasted the crowd was intense, to say the least. Each song carried the audience to grander and grander highs, and the freefall through the storm of battered bodies as they fell deeper and deeper into the pit near the front of the stage. No man, woman or other was left unmoved, as Brandon could assuredly claim feeling, with each sway and pulse of the mad mob at his back. But he showed no sign of caring whatsoever. His eyes were locked on the lead singer, and for most of the time, hers were on him. But every time their eyes met again, he swore he could feel this.. almost intensely thrilling jolt run through him.
Then he saw her raising her hands, and suddenly the throng behind him began to quiet down, and with a sense of Biblical power, be still. And that was when he noticed that though he was there, though his ears were ringing, his body subtly aching from the assailants around him, he had somehow become so lost in the music that he had missed almost their entire set.
"Now comes the part of the set that everyone hates," the singer began. "The one thing that binds us all, my little believers. And that is the finale. The crescendo. THE ETERNAL VOW!"
The band in unison threw their arms into the air, proudly holding the horns up as the audience roared in jubilation, before they grew still again.
"And in honor of the pact we have made here tonight, I wish to share this vow with you all. So, on behalf of all the Goddesses! On drums, The Goddess of the Divine Rhythm! ALMA RODRIGUEZ!"
A blistering solo machine gunned out from the drums as Alma quickly went to work with an intense and incredibly powerful solo for more than a minute, as the crowd quickly exploded again and just as suddenly settled.
"On the keys, the beautiful and bountiful Goddess of the Chords! Sauska al-Thanis!"
The busty keyboardist quickly soared into a soaring and beautiful mix of a Rick Wakeman tune and Bach's Air on a G String, then dove into a distorted and intense remix of Toccata and Fugue in D before gliding into Handel's Messiah as the lead guitarist joined along, imitating the chords of a Brian May guitar solo to finish the highlight. As the crowd cheered, Shaushka began to bodily laugh and high fived the amazonian guitarist, totally caught up in the moment.
"And on the Bass! Our own musical Beast of the East! The Little Oni! YORI ONIZUKA!"
Skipping to the front of the stage, the Asian girl giggled and waved at the audience before twisting to the right, grabbing the neck of her guitar, and dancing and hopping along with a giant smile on her face as she controlled and manipulated the massive strings into an incredible show of technical prowess and amazing grip strength punctuated by a J-Pop idol vibe from the punk pixie in the blue face makeup that despite playing a blistering hour long set of original music, had yet to even begin to run. In fact, it almost seemed that she had yet to sweat even once the entire set! This thought wormed its way through Brandon's brain as she ended her solo to thunderous applause, giggling and waving back.
"On guitar! The Mistress of the Strings! MIGHTY MAYRA EVERTON!"
Coolly walking up next to the spiky coifed singer, they gave each other a smile and a nod, Mayra's left hand held on tight, as her fingers audibly slid up the neck, scritching like a pick before quickly strumming out a roaring chord that caused the audience to roar right back. Her shoulders and arms bulged with each bend and mashing of the whammy bar in a blistering barrage of musical muscle and acumen.
"And of course, there's yours truly!"
Decoupling the electric guitar strapped to her person, she handed it to Mayra on her right before smoothly shucking her jacket and throwing it aside. And Brandon's eyes went wide. The sheer definition she had! The fact that the jacket could barely hide the sheer amount of mass in both the tight shirt she wore, as well as equally tight jacket. If he hadn't known any better, he could have sworn the shirt itself wasn't just painted on, which sent his thoughts spiraling back to 5 months prior when he saw a band called Fainted Paces, who were all men who painted themselves to look like they were wearing tuxedos. Thankfully, he'd rather see the Goddesses in body paint than them, mostly because Fainted Paces sucked MASSIVE balls.
Especially with how the lady on the mic looked. In all honesty, Brandon normally didn't like jacked girls. But something about the way she looked, how the shirt twisted and bulged in just the right way to unconsciously display pure power. Something about the way her hips moved, and the fact that he swore he could hear the stitching of her jeans starting to groan and pop. The look on her face as she just let the waves of adulation wash over her, deep in the swelling sensations of adoration and praise. She looked like she was in pure bliss.
"On mic and guitar, my name is Layla Scalzi!"
And on the first syllable of her last name, she suddenly grabbed the collar of her shirt, and proceeded to pull, easily and deftly tearing her shirt in half, revealing that her torso was just as defined as the rest of her, pulling the cloth around her shoulders as she moved into a most muscular pose. Flexing her insane abs as she rolled her arms up, each one a solid brick stacked two by two into a wall of eight dense segments of power lined by an equally impressive Belt of Orion as her arms shifted up and locked into a proper double bicep, as a series of gasps and wows of surprise and envy crested over the crowd. Brandon, however, was completely blown away. There was something about the overall look: punk princess plus powerhouse pixie. He just knew that at that second, that this girl was unique. Special, even.
And in that split second, just enough time for several megajoules of eternity to have flashed through him, he fell for her, HARD.
Easing up on the posing, Mayra slid an acoustic guitar across Layla's frontside, blocking her abs as she quickly tuned the strings and volume.
"And now, for this vow we make between our lovely believers and we, the Five Points of the Star. We shall bind it in love and honesty. For we love you all, make no fucking mistake about that. And we conjure the words and seal the deal with this, our final song of the set."
Once again, Layla's eyes drifted down, and connected with Brandon's yet again.
"For you are ours, and we are yours. And for all eternity, we will love you, hold you, bring you to the most divine of heights. But in return, we ask you do only one thing."
Layla's head fully turned towards Brandon, and her grin grew wider.
"Except for you. I want two things from you. I'm gonna need a shirt after the show. Get me a Knuxxx tour shirt, medium. The red and black one."
The crowd laughed. Brandon didn't care. Anything she wanted, he'd get for her.
"And the second goes for everyone here. The title of this song..."
She strummed the chords, and hummed a note.
"The title of this one... is called Worship Me."
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I really, really would love to Worship You Layla, you are my kind of girl! Or in this case, Goddess! Really loved your description, especially of Layla's ripped body! I was falling for Yori before, but now I have a new favorite. But I think if Yori does something nice and powerful in the future, she can easily sway me back to her side. k+!
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At the front of the stage, Brandon was caught in rapt attention as he watched how strong, yet graceful Layla's fingers were as she played. Sliding up and down the neck of the guitar as she sang in a moderate alto, how her eyes would flit from the guitar to him, to the crowd, back to him and then the guitar. Every time their eyes met, her smile grew wide as her posture shifted a bit, reflexively rolling her shoulders or tensing her arms and abs. For all of the 3 minutes and 17 seconds of her singing, Brandon could swear that everything else had fallen away, and that Layla had sung Worship Me for him and him alone. Only to pull back to reality with her final line.
WORSHIP ME
And I swear
That I'll WORSHIP... YOU
Then the final notes rang out. And the audience exploded in cheers and applause and howls and throwing the horns. As the crowd showed their love, Larkin's Emcee, Arwen, spoke through the sound system.
"Ladies and gentlemen! THE GODDESSES!"
The crowd roared once more as a chant broke through the club, before quieting down and letting the house playlist blast through the building.
Brandon, for his part, decided now was as good as any to go get Layla the shirt she wanted. Working his way through the crowd, he approached the vendors in the back, off to the side of the entrance. Thankfully, he was in luck as the lines were empty. Manning the merch was a short, thin woman. All of five feet even and wiry, even in the dark, her deep metallic blue hair dye stood out proudly.
"Excuse me," he asked the waif with deep metallic blue hair behind the table. "Hi!"
For her part, she eyed him up just in case of anything. Brandon could tell this wasn't her first rodeo at a show like this.
"Hey," she replied with a deep drawl. "Whatcha lookin' for?"
"Do you have a, uh... A Kn-"
"Knuxxx," she said as she held out a rolled up shirt. "Beat'em And Weep tour shirt. Red and black variant. Medium, right?"
Brandon was flabbergasted at how quickly this was going.
"Uh, y-yeah!"
"That'll be $18."
Quickly diving into his wallet, Brandon pulled out a $20 before handing it off to her.
"$2 is your change-"
Brandon quickly raised his hand.
"Actually, would it be possible to carry that over to someone else?"
The merch seller gave him a quick once over, confusion obviously on her face.
"You sure?", she asked.
Brandon just nodded his head with an assuring smile. For her part, the merch lady visibly mulled it over before deciding to take him at face value.
"Okay, then! Not too many noble gentlemen like you around nowadays, huh?"
The merch lady handed him the shirt. As soon as the exchange happened, the bartender shouted out behind Brandon.
"EMMY! WE NEED A HAND!"
"Coming," Emmy replied before turning back to her customer. "Pleasure doing business with you, buddy boy! And... a bit of advice?"
Brandon kept his eye on Emmy as she went around the table and towards the bar, but stopped midway to look back at him.
"Those ladies can be a handful. Give them some space when they need it, okay? Especially Layla."
With that, Emmy began to jog into the serving station and taking orders. Brandon, however, stood still as he looked down at the shirt in his hands.
"Give'em space," he contemplated. "What did she mean by that?"
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Nice, a story with good flow and good build up. Hope for more soon.
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Suddenly, Brandon could feel someone jumping onto his back. He was about to fight whoever it was, but then he saw a little stripe of purple hair.
"Bro," Nicodemus shouted, the beer on his breath letting him know Nic had already met his two beer tolerance limit. "I got Shelly's NUMBER!"
Wrestling him off of his back, Brandon help but roll his eyes at how excited Nic was.
"Shelly...?"
Nic tilted his head back, releasing a "Gah!" for Brandon's question.
"Brandon-On-Brand yet again! SHELLY!"
Brandon could only just give a shrug.
"The bassist for The Little Scarlings! The one with the killer curves? And the DSL's?"
It suddenly clicked for Brandon what the Hell he was talking about. If anyone didn't know any better, people would just mistake her for a insta**** model that had gone under the knife more than a few times, and not for the whipsmart bassist for a Pop Punk band who wanted to look like that under her own free will.
"I thought it was improper to "wantonly talk about a woman's features" now that you were trying to be more of an active Feminist, dude?"
"I know," Nic replied, pushing Brandon's shoulder slightly. "But there's just something there! I can't quite put my finger on it! Like it's destiny or something!"
"Oh there's something you want to put your fingers on alright," Brandon uttered, shaking his head. "And it isn't called "destiny", you thirsty ass dork."
"Speaking of wanting to get a little something-something..." Nic began, motioning at the shirt his flatmate was holding in his hands. Brandon couldn't help but get a little defensive, holding the shirt to his chest at the implication.
"I-It's not like that," Brandon replied. "Layla just asked me to get her a shirt! That's all!"
Nic, for his drunken part, was not buying it at all.
"Come on, dude! You haven't gotten any in MONTHS, and you're gonna suddenly do whatever that swole singer says because she bats her lashes atcha' or something?"
"Look," Brandon started as he began to walk away. "Say what you want! But a lady asked me to do something, and I aim to please!"
"I bet you are," Nic shouted back. "Just don't blame me when she caves your nuts in, buddy boy!"
Brandon only laughed at Nic's attempt at a jab. But right now, all that was on his mind was finding the girls in The Goddesses. Looking around, he noticed that at the base of the stairs to the entrance to the VIP area stood two members: the petite Yori and the heavily endowed Shaushka, both keeping an eye out for someone. As soon as he got within view, Yori quickly became excited, tapping Shaushka on the shoulder and pointing his way, exciting her as well. Yori couldn't help but squee and giggle, quickly pulling him into a tight hug, lifting him up slightly.
"You're here," she shouted, enthusiastically throwing him side to side slightly. "You're here! You're here! You're heeeeeere!"
"Yori," Shaushka commanded. "We talked about this! Put him down before something happens to him, please."
Yori groaned and pouted, before carefully putting Brandon back on solid ground. Turning to Shaushka, Yori childishly stuck out her tongue.
"Meanie!"
Taking a second to get his bearings straight, Brandon looked up at the VIP section from below.
"So," Brandon slowly spoke. "I got Layla her shirt? If you want, I can just to you guys so you can-"
Before he could even finish, Yori pulled something out of her pocket, and with a flourish, proudly held up a VIP pass in his face.
"Ta-da," she cheered.
"Layla said she wanted you to get her a shirt," Shaushka replied as she began to climb the stairs.
"So you get to give it to her," Yori finished, grabbing his free hand. Brandon decided to just roll with it as one girl led and the other deftly dragged him up the stairs.
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As he slowly climbed the stairs, the one thing Brandon took full notice of wasn't how many steps there were, nor how much Shaushka's body wobbled and shook inside her clothes that seemed perfectly made to show off just how truly curvaceous she was, nor how surprisingly dark the stairwell was, or even the pounding in his chest he just realized was abnormally loud in his ears. All were well and truly in his notice, and if he was a weaker man, he would have done his damnedest to get as close to Shaushka's impossible proportions as possible. But that was not what was on his mind.
The one thing he took full notice of was just how tight Yori's grip was on his hand. Despite being on the small side, her vice like grip defied expectation even with her being a bassist. It was like the way she held him was both comforting him, letting him know what was going on was real, and yet controlling him, somehow signalling to some part of his soul to not put up a fight and just let her take him. Like there was something about her, hidden away in the hoodie and dress and layer upon layer of clothing. And that blue mask she still wore on her neck...
Then Shaushka's voice broke through his pondering.
"Layla's waiting for you," she said, a mischievous smile on her face as she opened the door. And with precision, Yori slipped behind Brandon, and proceeded to carry him into the VIP section.
There in front of him stood the three remaining members of the band lounging by the railing. On one side stood Alma, still in full makeup and decked in gold, partially turned away as she coolly watched the stage as The Little Scarlings were blasting as loud and as fast as they could. On the other side stood Might Mayra, now sporting a pair of dark Aviators, opposing in her presence as she watched Yori carry a full grown man towards them with an amused look on her face. And in the middle, climbed onto the railing and hanging halfway out over the crowd, was Layla, screaming and cheering inbetween drinks of the beer in her hand, now having gone completely topless and gleefully putting on a show for anyone down below paying attention to her.
"Layla," Mayra shouted, tapping the back of Layla's left shoulder with the back of her hand. Unfortunately, Layla paid no mind as she kept on cheering.
"LAYLA!"
"WHAT?!", the lead singer growled as she whip turned towards her guitarist, an annoyed look on her face.
"The convert's here," she replied, pointing towards the Yori mounted Brandon. Layla's milky white skin quickly began to grow as red as her mohawk as a goofy smile crept across her face. Suddenly getting embarrassed, Layla turned away from Brandon, rubbing one of the buzzed sides of her head like if she had hair there. If Brandon could say anything about her actions, he would have admitted that her sudden shyness was actually kinda cute. Mayra, however, paid no mind as she motioned towards Yori to put him down, which Yori gladly did before skipping over to the railing behind Alma and watch the show.
"Little one," Mayra spoke as she walked over to Brandon. "Glad you could join us up here. Your name?"
"Brandon," he replied, noticing just how big Mayra actually was at six and a half feet by his estimate. He suddenly noticed that Mayra noticeably was warming up to him as she coolly began to smile at him.
"Even your NAME is appropriate! Layla!"
Mayra waved at Layla to get closer, as she cautiously walked over until she was within arm's reach.
"Brandon," Mayra began, placing one hand on his shoulder. "This is Layla."
"H-hi!"
"Layla," Mayra continued, placing her other hand on her shoulder. "This is Brandon."
"S-sup," Layla responded, trying her best to look as cool and indifferent as possible, only to pull off what looked like an adorkable attempt at flirting.
"Uh," Brandon stammered, not sure what words to use until he remembered the shirt that was still in his hands. "I got you the Knuxxx shirt you wanted? The red and black one, in a medium?"
"O-oh," Layla tittered. She could feel how strong her heart was beating, the butterflies in her stomach, the alcohol in her veins spurring her to say something, anything at all. "Th-thank you, Brandon!"
Layla gently lifted her hand to grab the shirt. Brandon could feel the gentleness in her caress, the calluses on her hand from both guitar and something else sliding across the top of his, calmly and lovingly holding his.
"Y-you didn't really NEED to-"
"This is taking too long!"
With gentle yet overwhelming force, Mayra quickly brought the two of them into intimate space. And with no more real distance between them, as the rest of the band cheered them on except for Alma simply smiling and nodding her head, the new fan and the new star embraced each other, and drew themselves into a kiss.
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so thats it on the story? it ends with them embracing? not much of a story
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It's *not* done. This is all essentially chapter 01.
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Layla couldn't help herself. Was it the alcohol? Was it the adrenaline from a killer show? Was it the pump she was still riding from earlier in the day? As the fire burned through her veins, the euphoria hit the spark deep within her, and she knew what was causing it: the man whom she was sharing a passionate embrace.
She knew it. He was the one the band was looking for.
Breaking away from him, Layla started to laugh before playfully pushing Brandon away.
"Mayra," Layla shouted over the music, laughter bouncing on every word. "Not fucking cool! I wanted to talk to him first!"
Mayra, for her part, only shook her head in response as she draped her arms over the two of them.
"Look," she spoke, leaning in close to both of them. "I could already tell where this was going. So don't tell me I didn't do the right thing, okay? Besides, something tells me you BOTH needed that..."
"It WAS pretty nice," Brandon added.
"See? Brandon liked it, you liked it. Now that that's out of the way, we have important things to discuss."
With that, Mayra began pushing the two to a large nearby table where Alma, Yori and Shaushka were already seated. Brandon quickly gave Mayra an quizzical look as Alma, lounging back with all the languid care of a cat, pushed a chair out with her foot for him to take a place with them.
"Business?", Brandon asked. "W-what kind of... Of business are we talking about?"
"The business," Mayra answered, spinning a chair around before sitting down. "Of the Ascension Game."
"I'm sorry," Brandon balked, seeing the spikes of Layla's hair as she leaned over him, feeling her hand sliding down his arm as she reached for the shirt, the sheer bulk of her meaty pecs as her nipples, pert and stiff, dug into his neck and upper arm. "The what?!"
"The Ascension Game," Layla seemingly moaned into his ear, forcing Brandon to look her directly in the eyes.
Making him realize something and ask himself, "Wait, were her eyes ALWAYS that blue?"
Brandon watched as Layla quickly stood up, turning away from Brandon, and unfolding the shirt. Lifting it above her, Layla coyly turned to look back at Brandon, and slowly, gently, began rolling the muscles in her back and arms, flexing and posing as she pulled the shirt over her prodigious form. Each little section of tissue pulsing and twitching, fighting as hard as they could yet unable to do anything but respond to their mistresses bidding as the cotton fabric slid across her frame and quickly filled each fiber with more mass. Until finally, with a satisfied grunt, the shirt at last covered her, and she turned back, showing off that she wasn't just flexing her back as the tour logo was now slightly distorted across her chest, now seemingly filled with tense and taut slabs of might. Unable to hide just how aroused Layla was at the effort.
Brandon couldn't help himself, giving out a quick little groan at the show Layla had just given everyone. He had never wanted to be with a girl like Layla. But for some reason, she demanded, if not COMMANDED, his attention.
"W-what," Brandon nearly squeaked out. "What do you mean by "Ascension Game", per se? Is it like a, uh, Battle Of The Bands?"
"Close," Shaushka answered. "If by "bands", you mean "potential pantheons that grant those that succeed their wildest desires"? Then, yes. It's a "Battle Of The Bands", in that regard. At least since the 1800's, when the Ascension took on the presence of Diva-hood."
That's when it all clicked for him. As the look of realization crossed his face, both Alma and Yori began to chuckle at the fact he had taken this long to get it.
"Wait, wait! You mean to tell me-"
"That WE," Layla interrupted. "Are on the path to being LITERAL Goddesses."
Then, as she sat down, the loud and overwhelming sounds of the live show that was happening below them slowly faded away until you could hear a pin drop, causing Brandon to start feeling something akin to a panic attack building up within him.
"And WE," Layla continued when the sound and fury of The Little Scarlings finally disappeared. "Need one thing from YOU, Brandon."
"And what would that be," Brandon asked, questioning where this was all going as Layla put her arm in front of him, giving him a view of all the calluses on her hand. Not only the ones on her fingers from playing guitar but also on her palms from other activities. Spectating as Mayra's hand came into view, clasping Layla's as an Arm Wrestling match took place in front of him.
"To be our ACOLYTE," she grunted in response, fully immersed in competition.
-
As the unnatural silence kept him on edge, Brandon watched in awe as the veins in each lady's arms seemed to twist and grow, snaking across their forearms as each threw their full weight behind toppling their bandmate's limb onto the table. Muscles twitching, throbbing, shaking as their groans grew to moans, and then growing louder as if the strain and burn was giving way to pleasure. Making Brandon feel like he shouldn't be here at all, thinking they might be a few scant moments away from throwing him aside and going at each other in a more carnal manner.
"S-so," Brandon said, working up his courage, turning to the other ladies at the table. "Why do you need an... Acolyte, was it?"
"An Acolyte helps a prospective Goddess or Goddesses develop their presences," Alma said, placing her feet on Brandon's lap underneath the table. "Speaking of which, massage my legs."
As the words left her lips, he could suddenly feel something with heft slide across his lap and almost directly to his crotch. Brandon's eyes went from Alma's almost feral look in her eyes to her legs, packed tightly in her jersey shorts, so full and taut that it seemed like they were about to pop the seams. As she moved her feet, he watched the muscles in her thighs swim and shift, her dusky skin bulging and contracting with each micro motion for his eyes only. Movement stirring movement as her foot slid across the front of his pants, cycling back and forth, teasing him, enticing him. The air in his lungs growing slightly staggered. Her prodigious hips rolling as if she was dancing specifically for him, leading his eyes up to her solid core, the lame' top falling to the side as she flexed her slightly pooch covered abs, putting on a full show as his eyes scanned her entire form, going back to those primal eyes of her, her lips in a subtle smile as she stared him down. Knowing he had done as she wanted.
Just as suddenly, her mood seemed to lighten. Almost switching to a quiet desperation, as if she was actually wanting something.
"I would like a little attention," she asked. "Rub them, please?"
With a "okay" nod and a "not bad" look, he gently placed his hands on her calves, which despite looking so soft, were quickly revealed to be as firm as her thighs, when she flexed her legs yet again, revealing a teardrop form. So dense, his fingers could barely cause any give. So warm, her legs made his hands feel cold. Her skin so silky and smooth, his hands gliding up and down from ankle to knee, flexing and shifting to meet up to his touch to meet his every motion.
"Holy shit," Alma moaned, a look of pleasant surprise on her face, breaking her feral facade. "You're actually pretty fucking good at this! Shaushka! You should have him do your shoulders next!"
"N-no," Shaushka quickly responded. "I'm good! Just... Enjoy him for me, for right now."
"Your loss," Alma tittered, tilting her head back as she let his fingers do their thing.
"Me next," Yori shouted. "I'd like a back massage!"
"Maybe in a bit," Layla grunted. "Can you get another round of drinks? Gonna want a cold one after I make Mighty Mayra here crumble! Then we gotta get back to business on hand!"
"Okay," Yori moped, scuttling out of her chair and making her way round. Making particular note to stop behind Brandon for a second.
"Do you know how to do deep tissue massages?", she whispered in his ear.
"Uh," he stammered. "Not exactly?"
"It's okay," Yori chittered in his ear. "I can teach you. Be back in a few!"
With a few hearty and heavy whacks on his shoulders, she quickly walked to the stairwell doorway. Flinging it open, The Little Scarlings' live show briefly broke through the unnatural silence before she quickly she made an exit, restoring the VIP area to silence with the closing of the door.
"So you're gonna make me crumble," Mayra asked Layla. "Unlike the other 23 times in the last 4 months?"
"It's gonna happen," Layla growled. "You know I'm gonna be more powerful than you when the Ascension Game's done with!"
"In your dreams," Mayra spat back. "You know why you're the frontman, Layla?"
"Why's that?"
Layla could tell Mayra was barely holding herself back from laughing. Which told her that the normally gentle giant had just thought of a good insult to volley at her.
"You're the frontman... Because you only know two chords!"
Layla bodily began laughing at Mayra's joke, for though she wasn't very good at them, when they were good? They were ON-FUCKING-POINT.
"Oh, you BITCH! That one had BARBS!"
With that, Layla became serious about winning this match. As she leaned into it, Brandon watched as her shoulders hunched over, sweat dampening the sleeves of her shirt as she gave it her all. He watched as her arm slowly but persistently began to swell, putting on mass and firmness, seeming to burn through stored fat as the vascularity of her bicep and forearm grew more and more apparent.
"Fuck yeah," Layla shouted, her eyes blazing with passion as she stared Mayra down. "You got a strength boost tonight too, huh? So stone cold all the time, but I can tell you're just as hot as I am right now, aren't ya?"
"There's one thing that separates you and me," Mayra responded, her steely gaze behind her aviators piercing through Layla's fiery bravado. "You are passion, while I?"
Suddenly, Layla could feel the pressure growing steadily, quickly coming to her own limits as her arm almost mechanically began to move backwards from the hydraulic press that was Mayra's might until calmly, coldly, gently, the back of her hand was placed on top of the table. For three seconds, Layla futilely tried to fight back as Mayra gave her a smug smile, until she finally gave up. She shot Mayra a dirty look, but Mayra was unfazed, jokingly bouncing her eyebrows as she smiled bright.
"I am controlled!"
Layla quickly stood up, and rushing around Brandon, began to hug Mayra, unable to fully stand up before Layla took her in a tight hug.
"God damn, this is why I love to call you my sister!"
Locking hands once again, they each embraced the other with their free hand, kissed the back of each others hands, and then locked lips before unclasping their hands and going back to hugging each other as the The Little Scarlings once again broke the silence. The entrance music as Yori made an appearance with two full trays of six pitchers of beer and two pitchers of water each.
"Ta-da!"
The room fell quiet again as Yori used her foot to close the door before calmly walking over and professionally putting the drinks on the table.
"Okay," she shouted, shooting a mischievous smile at the party. "Hot food will be ready in a few minutes! Who ordered the salad?"
The girls at the table each broke out in laughter at the absurdity of the diminutive Asian girl carrying such heavy trays. Brandon just watched as the girls quickly began to dive in to their drinks without a care in the world, boggling him at just how unreal this was to him. Trying to process everything as Layla quickly placed a cold pint of Red Amber in front of him.
"Alright," Layla shouted, before taking a swig of her beer. "Enough fun and games, ladies! We need to get down to brass tacks!"
"And that's about me being your.... Acolyte, right?"
He felt Mayra put her hand on his shoulder.
"Exactly, and what that means for both you and us."
"I heard Alma telling you a bit about it," Layla carried on. "Was her explanation good enough?"
Turning towards Alma, she seemed to be puffing her chest proudly. Nodding her head with an "I did good" look on her face.
"Well," Brandon replied. "Not really."
The inflated look quickly changed to a deflated look, despite Alma's efforts to not look affected by his words, and drawing chuckles from the rest of the group.
Shaushka meekly raised her hand, and cleared her throat.
"Maybe I should explain it, then?"
"Yes," Yori joined in. "Yes! You ALWAYS know what to say!"
Layla leaned back, beer in hand, a proud smile on her face.
"Good on ya to step up, Shaushka! If you may, the floor's yours!"
Shaushka took hold of her beer with both hands, closed her eyes, and breathed deep.
"First off, we'll need to cover why we need you, in particular. You see, in the Ascension Game, those chosen to Ascend need to garner power. In order for them to do that, they need worshipers. They give us their love and affection, and we give them a touch of the divine. This creates a Vow between them and us. This Vow manifests in one specific term: fandom."
Brandon mulled over what Shaushka was telling him, rationalizing and figuring out what she meant.
"So... That "vow" stuff at the end of the show... wasn't actually a show?"
"Yep," Layla affirmed. "The contract, or Vow, is a real thing."
"But there's a catch to the whole "worshiping" thing," Mayra added.
"Exactly," Shaushka continued, brushing her black hair back to get it out of her eyes. "Without some way to control the flow of power, to contain that power, to ground that power, it'll be very easy for one of the Ascending to go mad or burn out completely."
"Burn out completely," Brandon inferred. "You mean, like, just drop out entirely?"
"What she means," Alma spoke before raising her full glass, and in three gulps finished her beer before reaching for the pitcher. "Is they will be BURNED OUT. As in, erased from reality entirely, like they never existed in the first place."
"Fwoooooom," Yori added, imitating something going up in flames with her hands.
"And that's where Acolytes come into play," Shaushka said, pointing towards Brandon with her whole hand. "You see, there are certain fans who are so tuned to certain Ascending that they are able to literally SEE the power they wield. And when it comes to first contact, there's usually some strong core element to the bond. For some it's admiration. For others, it's lust. And for us, well..."
Brandon took a quick look over at Layla, only to see what was essentially the appearance of a schoolgirl crush, her pale skin turning a shade lighter than the shirt she was wearing as she began to blush with embarrassment. Brandon, for his own part, quickly turned away from her, a goofy smile on his face as he, too, began to blush.
Mayra leaned over, giving the two of them a once over.
"This tuning is rare, because this sort of thing never really happens: pure emotion. I could tell the second you laid eyes on each other, as you came out unscathed from the pit. And NO ONE comes out of the pit unscathed."
Brandon felt Layla's hand on his, holding him tight, but with an added feeling to it. A warmth, or a gentleness. A fondness, even. But he knew that wasn't the right word.
"Brandon," Layla began. "From the second I saw you, I knew it in the bottom of my soul. Our first show, and you showed up, and suddenly what would have been a good show turned into a GREAT show."
"We need you," Mayra added, placing her hand on top of his. "No two ways about it. So what do you say?"
Yori's hand shot out from behind him, as she quickly clamped down on the other three.
"Please? Please say yes! I can promise you won't regret it!"
Shaushka made her way around the table, and placing herself next to Mayra, added her own hand to the collection.
"At the very least, you can say it won't be boring!"
Mayra turned her attention to the primal drummer, acting like she was too cool for this whole "pact" thing.
"Alma? You know we need you in on this, too. Get over here, girl!"
Her eyes darted to each of her band's excited and hopeful looks, before locking onto Brandon's. Seeming to take all the time in the world to decide. But soon, the icy visage melted, as a warm smile crept across her face, which still left her somehow with a predatory presence, but one that let them know she was with them.
"What the Hell! As long as you keep giving me massages like that, then I'm cool with anything!"
And with that, the other ladies cheered and laughed, growing more infectious as the all swarmed Brandon, welcoming him to the band.
And with that, they proceeded to drink and celebrate, and continue to enjoy the concert.
-
Loving the build up. Let's see how things continue to grow.
-
Great work. This story has been built up realy well so far. I'm looking forward to what comes next.
-
By the time The Knuxxx finished their set with a third encore closer of the fan favorite song "Fist Fight" two hours later, Larkin's was in a serious state of disrepair. Alma had vanished and reappeared multiple times, with each return accompanied by a new shirt, with a new conspicuous stain on all but the 5th she had acquired each time. Yori, the eternal bundle of energy she was, never stopped dancing once in her platform boots that gave her a good 5 inches of height. Mayra and Shaushka were off to the sides, losing themselves to the music and bobbing their heads, constantly talking business as each brought up good and bad points with each act.
And Layla? Brandon could only watch as midway through The Hags opening number, Layla clambered on the railing, took off her shirt, screamed "FUCK YEEEEEEAH", proceed to climb down, head straight into the pit, and stay there the entire time until the break for the Knuxxx setup. Then she would climb back up the stairwell a sweaty and haggard mess, down some beers, and repeat it all again when The Knuxxx took the stage. And by the closing set, she was exhausted, battered, drenched in sweat, and in an absolute state of euphoria from alcohol, pain and pure bliss.
By Brandon's best estimates, as long as you ignore the weirdness he found himself in, it was one Hell of a great night. As the venue was cleaning up, only the bands, some stragglers and the staff were still on hand by closing time.
"Tonight was fucking AWESOOOOOOME," Layla screamed, jumping on top of Brandon, the salty smell of sweat and beer coming off of her in waves. Her shirt dark against her glistening marble like skin.
"Whoa," Mayra chided, lifting Layla off of their new Acolyte. "Settle down, girl! We need someone to get the guarantee for tonight's show. And both Alma and I need your help loading the van."
The look of disappointment on Layla's face was all encompassing, as she began to kick and thrash in Mayra's arms.
"Awwwww! I wanted to spend more time with Brandon!"
"Come on," Mayra scolded the drunken singerm as she and Alma walked off towards where the gear was stashed.
As the three wandered towards the backstage area, Brandon, Shaushka and Yori remained by the bar.
"Brandon," Shaushka began. "There's still more we need to discuss about your role as an Acolyte. While we discuss this, can you head upstairs and get our pay, Yori?"
Despite dancing the night away, the petite bassist looked like she had just arrived. Just as fresh faced as she had at the beginning of the night, quickly downing her glass of water before giving the thumbs up before bounding out of her seat and running off to the office. Waiting until she was climbing the stairs, Shaushka then leaned closer to Brandon.
"So," Shaushka quietly spoke. "We need to discuss what happens when those in the Ascension Game find an Acolyte."
Brandon's interest grew at what she meant.
_______________________________________________________
Yori skipped steps as she quickly made her way up the stairs, and approached the office. Taking a moment to straighten up, Yori knocked on the door, taken off guard when a balding man quickly opened the door on the other side, scowling down at the blue faced girl.
"What do you want," he growled at her. Yori kept a smile on her face, and cutely waved at him.
"I'm with The Goddesses," she replied. "I'm here to collect our guarantee for the show?"
The menacing man looked her up and down before leaning back and looking off to his left. Another man's voice could be heard coming from inside the room.
"Let her in."
______________________________________________________
"Okay," she continued. "So when an Acolyte is found, there is an immediate response. It's similar to what happens when an atomic structure is able to not only incorporate an extra nucleic particle, but also create a new ring that safely accelerates the flow of protons, neutrons and electrons in the field of perceived particle motion."
Shaushka could not only see the look of confusion on the poor boy's face, but also feel it radiating off of him. She knew she had to come up with a new way to explain it so his brain wouldn't fry itself trying to comprehend things.
______________________________________________________
As Yori entered the office, she took stock of the setup of the room: 12 men in the room, 1 shotgun, 2 handguns and probably more hidden on them. Thick walls, lots of things to help absorb sound like tapestries, blankets and more. Some chairs, two couches, one desk. Only one door in and out of the room, no windows. Some vents for airflow. All in all, designed to minimize sounds.
And beyond their terrible cologne and body spray choices, an all too familiar smell for her: the smell of human predators.
Walking up to the desk, she watched as a young well groomed man, beard smelling of sandal wood and Earthy musk, his short hair conflicting with the smell of pomade and summer scents and the slight smell of decay on his breath, pulled out a stack of money and placing it in front of him.
"Hi," Yori pleasantly called out, waving at the bearded man. "I'm Yori? I'm with The Goddesses?"
"Andrew," he replied as he awkwardly waved back. "You're here for the money?"
Yori eagerly nodded in response.
"Yep! As we agreed to."
Grabbing the money, he quickly and silently began counting out every bill in the stack of $100 bills. And when reaching the end of the stack, he took one look at Yori again before pulling off two bills and held it out.
"Here you go."
Yori was not amused as the owner of the venue was holding out only $200, when the band was offered five. Off of a stack that by her counting totaled nearly ten thousand.
_______________________________________________________
"Let's put it this way: say you found a battery that was able to make its own energy. Pretty powerful, right?"
Brandon nodded, showing his understanding.
_______________________________________________________
"This was not the amount we agreed on, and you know this."
Andrew kept an eye on her, smugly smiling back at Yori.
"The Goddesses were the opening act. You're lucky to be getting two hundred. Take it or leave it."
Knowing things might be going south real soon if she pushed things unnecessarily, she stormed over to the owner, grabbed the money, and quickly made her way to the door, throwing it open.
"Of course," Andrew shouted at her, making some small part of her stop in her tracks as she knew where things were going. "I can give you DOUBLE the original guarantee. IF you are willing to do a... private performance."
Yori could feel the ants under her skin as her anger grew, taking a tighter hold of the door knob.
"A private performance, huh?"
All the men in the room began to laugh.
"You down to play with us, Yoli?"
Yori could hear her bones creaking in her hand and arm. Feel the sinews that lay beneath her heavy clothes turn into smoke and begin to build in pressure. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, riding on the sensation. And when she opened her eyes, gone were her rich brown irises. Now turned into blood red moons, and filled with fury as her azure face went from a smile to a scowl. The scent of semen and blood was overpowering the covering scents of the monsters in the room, as she soon realized she could smell the sexual fluids of twelve...
Thirteen...
Sixteen individuals. Twelve still in the room. And the blood and cum of four others, all female. Two of which, the freshest out of all of them, were young by all standards.
"Sure, I'm down if you are. Just please... Be gentle with me?"
The men shouted, cheered and clapped as she closed the door. And when the sounds of its occupants were quieted, the crisp clack of the lock on the door rang out like a bell in the hallway, and then grew still.
_________________________________________________________
"Then, as you're looking, you find out there was a way to hook it up to a new battery. One that not only improved the flow of said battery's energy, but also allow it to tap into a bigger source of energy, as well as automatically upgrade the overall efficiency, okay?"
Brandon nodded his head once again.
"That is what happens when someone in the Ascension Game finds an Acolyte. You increase the power and efficiency of a god or goddess both over time and whenever they make a Vow at a performance."
"So if I'm getting this," Brandon said, straightening himself. "An Acolyte is both an Accelerator, as well as a Regulator?"
Shaushka clapped and squealed as she saw him finally get what an Acolyte actually does.
"I'm so happy you got it! I knew redefining it in narrative terms would work for you! For a Lit Major, you are so observant!"
Brandon felt proud, even as he realized that he had not told her what his Major was, and how she had just insulted him subtly. Suddenly, the sound of two voices quickly grew louder from the entrance.
"Heeeeey!"
Both turned just in time to watch as both Layla and Alma jumped, and seemingly in slow motion splashed across the two of them, sending them all onto the floor. The ladies laughing as all three twisted and fell on top of their new member in a dog pile. Layla quickly pushed herself upright, throwing her arms in the air triumphantly as she roared in joy.
"Tonight fucking RULED," she shouted, before taking a hurried look around the room. "Wait, where the fuck did Brandon go?"
Feeling something tapping the side of her hip, Layla looked down, only to find that she had planted her directly onto Brandon's face. As the vibrations of his voice trying to get her attention and sensations of his hands on her hand reached her dulled mind, the shock of pleasure was instantaneous as she unknowingly rolled her hips, falling backwards onto her ass and off of him, allowing him to get some air. For her part, she couldn't help but laugh at the inadvertent lewd act she had just inflicted on Brandon.
"Oops! Sorry!"
Propping himself up, he made quick work of sliding out from beneath Alma and Shaushka, both giggling like utter idiots on the ground.
"It's all good," he replied, his face a bright red from embarassment. From above, Mayra extended her hand down to Brandon, which he quickly accepted and was in turn speedily pulled up from where he was sitting.
"You okay," she asked. "Those two aren't necessarily the lightest in the world, after all."
"I'm fine," Layla replied as she got herself on her feet, smiling as she dusted herself off. "I landed on something nice and soft."
Mayra, however, was ignoring her as she proceeded to pat Brandon down, taking great pains to be as gentle as possible. Frustrating Layla to no end.
"This is something we're gonna have to prep you for if you're going to be around us more often. How do you feel about Yoga?"
"My university does have a free program for full time stu-"
"Hey," Layla shouted, swaying a bit before sauntering over and putting her arms around the pair's shoulders. "Not cool, guys!"
"Sorry," Brandon sheepishly apologized. "You're right, we shouldn't be ignoring you, too."
"It's all good. And sorry for getting cross at you guys. Just let me do something for you. Ya know, as an apology."
"And what would that b-"
Before he could finish, Layla grabbed the sides of his head in a grip as tight as a vice, and immediately dragged him in for a kiss. Her sudden hunger overwhelmed him, all encompassing and consuming. He barely had time between breaths as the suction she was causing pulled it out of his lungs. Her tongue so powerful, it invaded all opposition, causing his own to become an unwilling dance partner in an entangling dance of carnality. But as time went on, a tingle slowly washed over him. Warm and pleasant, as if she was infusing him with a sensation of joy, of pleasure, of happiness. So many uplifting emotions and feelings swimming through him the longer his lips were on hers. And just as he was able to put together what that final element was that he had been feeling all night every time he got near her, contact was broken, and the feelings again slipped through his fingers like mist. Leaving him feel like a recently turned off monitor, fuzzy but still thrumming.
_________________________________________________________
The latch on the office door clicked loudly, and opened wide as Yori exited, accompanied by the sounds of tears and gurgles and moaning. Her clothes were slightly torn, looking loose and rumpled and torn, as if they had been stretched out and put back on her. Her eyes had gone back to their rich brown, and the blue coloring had yet to be effected, but amidst the paint, a new color dotted the look: a rich purplish-red, splattered conspicuously. As she lifted her arm to wipe her face, more of the same blood dripped from her hands as she used her sleeve to wipe it away. With each step, her boots squelched as she walked out into the hallway.
Turning back towards the room, she glared down at the balding man that had tried to menace her before. Only now, instead of standing tall, his limbs and torso were bent at a weird angle as his muscles twitched and spasmed, causing him to slowly grind his bones together, gurgling in severe pain, unable to prevent himself from dying slowly and in intense agony. Walking back over to him, she bent down as he stared back in fear, watching in terror as she reached out for him again. Flinching as she made contact on his back, and gurgling louder as she wiped her hands on his shirt, making sure he felt the pressure of her hands rubbing his broken ribs and spine.
"Thank you," she said with an evil smile, tapping him twice on the cheek. "I got what I wanted. And for the record? I'm Japanese, you asshole. So calling me a "China Doll" while you wagged your little dick at me? Doubly offensive. Be glad I didn't rip your dick off and sodomize you with it like you did the underage girl from earlier."
As she stood upright, she took in of all the damage she had caused. Furniture broken in half. Limbs strewn across the floor. Impact marks along the walls and ceiling and floor. Twisted bodies everywhere. And in the wall behind the desk was Andrew himself, forcibly implanted and unconscious. Making Yori feel proud of herself, and the fact she was able to act as an agent of karmic balance.
With a deep breath, the sweet smile returned to her face. And slapping the hoodie pocket filled with the stacks of money she had acquired from the safe underneath the desk, she proceeded to make a quick exit and head back down the stairs.
_____________________________________________________________
As he opened his eyes, he saw that Layla still had hers closed, caught up in their mutual delight, a slanted dopey smile on her face.
"Guys," Mayra spoke, interrupting the two. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news? But we need to get going. Where's Yori?"
"Over there," Shaushka shouted, pointing at the stairwell. "YORI!"
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the bite sized bassist stopped and waved at her band, before quickly holding up one finger, and then running off towards the other bands.
"Looks like she got everyone's guarantee," Alma added. "So we can finally head out."
"Cool," Mayra interjected. "Brandon? Gimme your phone real quick, okay?"
Fishing out his phone, Brandon handed it off to the giant guitarist.
Taking one look at the phone, she handed it back to him.
"You forgot the code, my man."
"Gah," Brandon groaned, slapping his forehead before grabbing his phone and putting in his password and handing it back to her. "Sorry! Here you go!"
With the lock out of the way, Mayra's fingers were a flurry, tapping in sticcato in a pattern time and time again, until she finished with her task and she handed it back to him.
"One of us will send you a message later, okay? Do you have a ride home?"
"I'm good," he shot back, holding his hand up and waving her off with a smile. "No need to worry about me. Just make sure you guys get home safe, okay?"
Mayra could only nod as she could see the concern he had for them all in his eyes. Deep down, she could tell the Acolyte they found would be willing to be there for them when needed.
"I think we'll be fine. With that out of the way, we'll see you soon, a'ight?"
Mayra held up her fist for him.
"A'ight! Let me know when you guys wanna hang out, okay?"
Brandon gave her the fist bump she was looking for, as both gave the other a smile and a nod.
"Will do!"
Slowly, Brandon could feel someone wrapping their arms from behind him, until he saw the thick, paw like hands of Alma grab the forearms of the other, locking like a grapple as she rubbed the side of her face into his back.
"Next time," she purred as she nuzzled into his back. "Can you massage more than my legs?"
"No problem," he warmly replied, placing his hands on her and gently began rubbing her fingers, drawing more purs from her until she loosened her grip, and sauntered around him before turning to look directly at him.
"Gonna make sure you keep your promises," she added, walking backwards before running off to catch up to Mayra.
"Yooooo!"
Looking to his left, he had just enough time to steady himself as Yori threw herself at him like a blue dart, grabbing her and spinning her around while she giggled loudly and with pure joy in his arms.
"Thank you for making a great night even better, Brandon! It was so nice to meet you!"
"It was great meeting you," Brandon replied to her, placing her back on the ground. "Take care on the way home, alright?"
Yori began to sprint backwards toward the door, waving enthusiastically the whole time, surprising him with just how sure she was where she was stepping. Without warning, from the corner of his eye, Layla's hair came into view. Taking hold of Brandon, she held him close to her. Letting her weight rest on him, she rested her head into his neck, creating a sense of intimacy, of a desire of connection. Holding onto him like she was desiring something more than the attention seeking actions she was exhibiting throughout the enitre night.
"What's up, Layla?", he said, wrapping his arms around her in kind.
"Brandon," she said in hushed tones. "Would it be alright if I went home with you?"
Brandon's heart began to pound in his chest. Layla had laid her intentions bare the entire night. Every time they connected on some level, he felt as if his breath simply disappeared. As if all things had finally begun to click in place. As if things finally felt right for him. But he knew that he couldn't. If not for his roommate's sake, but for the fact that he knew she had been drinking all night, and this wasn't the right way to approach it.
"I'd love to," he whispered back. "But it's been a long night. And maybe we can talk about this tomorrow? I think Mayra gave me your number..."
Layla's warm grip tightened as he spoke, breathing his scent in deeply and sighing.
"If that's the case," she said, moving her head to look him in the eyes, half dazed and filled with love. "Then I'll send you a message when I get home?"
"I'd love that..."
From his right, Shaushka put her hands on Layla's shoulders, and gently pulling the two apart, proceeded to guide Layla to the entrance.
"Sorry, but we gotta go. We'll see you later, Brandon. Okay?"
Brandon could only wave as Layla was led out of the building, keeping her eye on him the entire time. Until, when they were finally out of sight, he looked at his phone and putting it away, looked around and one thought entered his mind.
"Where the fuck did Nic get off too?"
-
With this addition, this part closes. And soon, the next chapter will be begin.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
As the Ryde driver pulled up to his place, Brandon couldn't get through the door fast enough. Nicodemus was nowhere to be found by the time he left, and he never responded to any of the 27 messages he had sent him. His phone automatically went to voice mail, the three attempts at facetiming resulted in nothing but both audio and video garbage, and even when he asked the stragglers at Larkin's before leaving, no one was able to tell him ANYTHING except that his car was gone. The general seething frustration of abandonment was only made worse by the hectic driving and frankly impossibly dense driver who would not shut up about how terrible things are for white people and how "America was being ruined by transvestite wannabe womens and power hungry feminists", but also wrought on an absolute mammoth migraine as he blasted that annoyingly cheesy and sexist Chester Barley tune "God's Gift" that was surging at the charts at max volume near the end of the ride.
There was one bit in particular that really made his stomach turn mid-trip.
"Now this is REAL music," he shouted at Brandon. "None of that "shake your fat ass" or "homie this/capping that/busting a nut all over your mama" ghetto trite! Real rock and roll!"
Brandon grimaced as he was forced to listen to Barley's so called "rapping", as the driver sang along.
"You got a cute face
You know your place
That's why you belong to me
She's young and free
Real sexy
Don't get mad, it's why you agreed
To our non-exclusivity"
"FUCK YEAH," the driver shouted. "Now that's a REAL MAN!"
"Because he cheats on his girl?", Brandon hissed.
"What?! NO! Cause it's his God given right to be with who he WANTS! All red hot, pure blooded real American women, of course!"
"And what constitutes a "real American woman", then?"
"She's gotta have BIG OLE TITS! Nice, long legs! Gotta be skinny, too! And nice tan skin!"
"So white..."
"Damn straight! Blonde hair, nice golden skin! And nothing that makes'em look like a fucking MAN! Fucking trannies and bitches that think they're as good or better than us men! I'd show'em what a REAL man is, I tell you what!"
Thankfully, at that point, the car was pulling up to the driveway. Hastily making an exit, getting shouted at for slamming the door as he hopped out, telling the driver to fuck off and quickly giving him a 1 star rating while leaving a quick comment about what happened all made the high he had been riding since The Goddesses left Larkin's immediately sink into the sea like Icarus.
Once inside, he began his usual pattern of crashing: shoes off by the door, phone on the wireless charger in the living room, shirt off by the kitchen, pants off by the bathroom, socks off by his door, flop onto the bed, out like a light.
But as soon as head hit pillow, he stayed fully awake. He was in a swirling storm of emotions. Happiness, sadness, anger, frustration, confusion, disbelief, euphoria, you name it. All raging inside of his head. He had seen the ladies do something miraculous, had felt something special with each of them. With Shaushka. With Yori. With Alma. With Mayra. With... Layla.
As he lay there, he suddenly realized many things. Just how quiet his place really was. How empty his bed was. How alone he felt. How much he was missing her. Tossing and turning, he couldn't get comfortable. Every inch was a mile as her wrapped himself further and further in his sheets. Despite it being the middle of Summer, he felt chilled no matter how much he was covered. It was like every inch of him hungered for her. Yearned for her. Cried out for her. He had never felt this way about ANYONE before. To him, this feeling was more than just lust, just desire, just hunger for intimacy. It was-
BRRRT! BRRRRRT!
Broken out of his reverie, Brandon could hear the one thing that meant more to the modern world than a heartbeat.
BRRRT! BRRRRRT!
Jumping out of bed, he scrambled through the door, only to catch his feet on his pants, and went tumbling to the hallway floor.
BRRRT! BRRRRRT!
Skittering up the wall as he stood up, he again made a dash towards the phone, only for his foot to catch the shirt he was wearing, laying him low once again, this time face first.
BRRRT! BRRRRRT!
Lifting himself from the prone position, he hurried to the phone. By pure luck, the shoes were parallel to his foot as he reached for it. Excitedly, he grabbed it from its charger.
"About time, Nico-"
That's when he caught sight of it.
A text message from Layla. With an attachment.
"OH," he said to an audience of one, pressing the button to open the text.
[OPEN THE LINK! TRUST ME!], followed by a kissy face, a flexed arm, a barbell and a heart. And below all that was a link to an .MP4. Tapping on the link, the attachment opened up, and Brandon was greeted with a video of Layla, purple hair down and obviously washed as it framed the impressive mini-mountains that bordered her neck. Brandon could see just how bright and cheery her smile was as she waved to the camera.
"Suuuup," she croaked out. "As you can see, I made it home safe. Didn't I, Mr. Bearsy?"
Brandon chuckled as he watched her pull a stuffed bear from off-screen, and holding it in front of the camera, made its head move.
"She sure did," she said on Bearsy's behalf, halfway between a cutesy voice and a growl. "She always tries to keep her promises!"
"Thank you, Mr. Bearsy!"
"No problem," she replied in Bearsy's voice, tossing him over her prodigious shoulder. "Laylaaaaah!"
As he was now fully laughing at her skit, Brandon decided here was as good a place as any and sat down on the nearby couch.
"Brandon, thank you SO, SO much for tonight. You really made things so much more fun, and I can't wait to see you again. As of this point, I want to personally welcome you as a part of the band."
Brandon's eyes were glued onto the screen as Layla deftly removed the shirt he had gotten her earlier, the fabric sliding across the lens as if it was a curtain hiding a statue. Layla's pale white skin seemed to shine brightly, as if she had been polished stone this entire time. The offseason bulk full of size and weight twitching and flexing as she moved the camera up to give him an overhead view. A cheeky smile as she primped and posed and flexed, clad in nothing but her panties. Dancing as she tightened her core, a good and solid six pack becoming visible, perfectly adorned by the Orion's Belt he knew must have taken hours to sculpt and define. Blowing him a kiss as she brought up her free hand, making a giant softball of muscle that was her bicep swell at her command, giving it a few pumps before lifting it up and kissing it.
"To be honest? I wish this was you right now."
At that, his hand reached into his boxers, and pulling out his dick, he began to jack off right there on the couch. Watching as Layla brought her hand to her chest, and sensually slide across from one pec to another, letting her fingers coax and caress the power that was contained in each, until slowly, winding her hand like a snake, she reached the other side and rolled the pert and full pink nipple that adorned her mighty but practically non-existent tit. Breathing with a hiss at the sensation, moaning at the elation. Seemingly timed with Brandon's own moan, unable to control himself. He wanted to be there. He wanted his hands to roam her body. To caress her shoulders. To kiss her arms. To feel the silken skin atop those stupendous slabs she calls her chest. Though he wouldn't have used his fingers on her nipple, honestly.
He watched in rapture as her stocky hand slid back between the tablets beneath her bosom, gliding down to the rolling hills and dales of her abs, taking great pains to wind her fingers around each carefully carved bit of her stomach like a maze. Sliding her hands down, down, down to the valley between her magnificent and full legs, biting her lip as she luxuriously slid her fingers into her panties. And then-
"Maybe next time," she chuckled as she winked. Brandon could only groan as she did the one thing he didn't expect her to do: get him so riled up that he couldn't see she was about to blue ball him. He began to laugh at himself being led along like a fool as Layla flopped back onto the bed. The adorable look of herself at ease before him never leaving her face once.
"We got a practice session next week at 7:30 on Saturday. Let me know if you'd be interested in coming. I know I'd be! See you soon, Brandon!"
With that she kissed the air towards him, and the video ended.
With that, Brandon let his head hang back, staring at the ceiling. And that's when he knew what he was feeling.
He liked Layla.
He LIKE liked Layla.
If he was to put words to it? Without a shadow of doubt, deep within his soul, he couldn't deny it whatsoever.
"God damn, I love you, Layla Scalzi!"
-
Great great great story, GL. I'm with you on the denunciation of people like the ignorant rideshare driver, who thinly couch various prejudices in fallacies.
-
:wow: This has been a realy good read so far. Great work.
-
"And as you can see, the evolution of Mythology serves as a dictum towards the progression of rational thought..."
The whole week was a DRAG for Brandon. On Sunday, the second day after the concert where Brandon was pulled into the weirdness of The Ascension Game and The Goddesses, Nic FINALLY came home, drained, exhausted, unable to really tell him anything of what transpired except for beginning to talk about the show and hanging with some people before devolving into a semi-lucid smiling mess. That Monday, things seemed to get back to normal, with talk spreading about the horror show that had happened in the office of the owner of Larkin's, all capped off with the discovery of the owner having been implicated in the creation and trafficking of pornography involving underage children, drug trafficking and a whole host of other charges.
Tuesday was when the deluge of messages started coming in. First was Layla, constantly spamming him with pics of her flexing, showing off her new guitar, showing off her new teal hair color and so on. Then Yori burst into his feed, talking about so many different things, it was like he was being fed the most pure cocaine you could ever imagine in the most concentrated form that was then filtered through a five foot even Asian girl who was also somehow 2000% caffeine to boot. Shaushka, for her part, tended to be far more grounded, sharing science videos, talking specifics about what was expected of him as their Acolyte, and quickly becoming good friends. Mayra, in complete contrast, was more aloof, getting his opinions on equipment, general discussions and similar. And Alma? Alma spent her time doing the typical Alma things, with a LOT of teasing and pics of her in various states of dress, or mostly the lack thereof.
And yet here he was, sitting in a World Mythology & Folklore course on a Thursday, where his Professor, the eternally droning and soul deadening Dr. Laurie Amarsella was going on and on about how all perspectives of Myth was the natural evolution of storytelling that gave rise to Rational Thought. When just last weekend, Brandon learned the opposite was true.
So, here he was, in a class that was important for his major, scrolling through his social media and dealing with his messages instead of interacting with this, which was one of his most important classes of the semester.
"Can you tell me some of the key definitions of Ascendancy when it comes to narrative structure?"
That question immediately pulled Brandon out of the world he was in inside his mind, and realize that Dr. Amarsella was standing directly in front of him, a very stern and disapproving look on her face as the rest of the class was sniggering at the trouble he found himself in.
"Uh, I'm sorry?"
"Ascendance," she punctuated. "In connection to narrative structure?"
Becoming sheepish really quickly, he put his phone down and fidgeted in his seat slightly.
"Well, it's about forward momentum. In some perspectives, ascendance is a symptom of the natural outgrowth from a system or structure. In Eastern cultures, the breaking of the cycle was the example of ascendance, or really transcendence, most tended to rely on. A form of attainment of power that asserts the proof of their necessity in growth and development. In narrative structure, it's a measure, whether deserved or not, of a character's placement within the story itself. Depending on how it's used, it's either a climax in a long series of struggles towards some ultimate goal, or used as a blockade to provide some final form of conflict or lesson. If I can use a modern example, the fact that the final boss in many Japanese roleplaying video games are usually a stand-in for a god or God himself that must be killed in order to achieve a sense of balance. A death of the Ego in Freudian terms, or the moment of axiom in Jungian."
The laughter grew louder, as Dr. Armasella continued to stare daggers at him. Despite the discomfort, Brandon could only look up at her, trying to hold onto hope that his blustering made him sound like he knew what he was talking about.
"Just keep to using your phone OUTSIDE of class from now on..."
With that, the signal for the end of class chimed loudly, as everyone hurried to shuffle out of class, including Brandon who immediately went back onto his phone, which buzzed the second it was in his hand. Unlocking the homescreen, he saw that all of the girls had sent him a message, letting him know that they tagged him in a video of their performance. Yori, Shaushka and Layla were the most excited at how quickly it was going viral, while Mayra played it cool, and Alma had sent him another selfie, this time showing off the new booty shorts she had bought that included a Meso-American pattern.
"Holy SHIT! Who's the Instathot sliding into your DM's?!"
"Not her," Brandon wanted to groan. "Anyone but her! Please!"
As he turned, he saw the figure he was hoping to avoid. If there was one thing that could be used to define Shelly Veston, it would be "mousey". She never took care of herself, even when it really mattered that she should. Five foot two and not really big but definitely not samll either. She had a history of ignoring personal boundaries, like pulling paper out of the notebooks of others when the urge to sketch hit her, or when she would almost literally crawl on top of people to see what they were doing or looking at. She wasn't autistic by any stretch of the margin. Just so full of curiosity and impulsive to such a major degree, she constantly ignored cues because she hated being left out and was bullheaded enough to force her way into any circle to be included.
"A friend of mine who wanted my opinion on something," Brandon nearly growled as he walked away. "Go awa, Shelly."
"Friend of yours," she echoed, doing her best to keep up. "What, like a girlfriend?"
"No," he said, now on the point of legitimate anger due to the way she drew out the syllables in the word "girlfriend". "I like someone else! Now leave me alone!"
At the admission, Shelly ran in front of Brandon, and placing his hand on his chest, shot into uncomfortable distance with a wild, invested look.
"Ooooh! Do tell! What's her name? What's she like? When's your next date? Tell me! Tell me!"
He wanted to gag at the acrid and sickly sweet smell Shelly was giving off, peppered by the smell of fish and onions on her breath. He was done with the smell, done with her questions, and done letting her be in his way.
"Jesus Christ! Why do you have to do this to EVERYONE?! I told you to leave me alone, and yet here you are, ignoring what I'm asking so you can have your way! You can't keep refusing to ignore my wishes! So I'm gonna say this one last time: LEAVE! ME! ALONE!"
With that final bit of outrage, Brandon then stormed off, leaving Shelly behind as everyone stared and chuckled at the scene. But she neither saw nor heard any of that, as her eyes were locked onto Brandon's back as he walked away.
"Something's going on," she said to herself. "I know it. He's trying way too hard to hide something, and I'm gonna find out what that is!"
-
The blaring of the clock by her bedside shot Layla out of her dream. Reaching out in a daze, she swung her hand once, twice, and on the third grabbing onto it before crushing the offending noisemaker in one smooth motion. Kicking her feet over the side of the bed, the mighty lead of The Goddesses stretched, popping her shoulders and neck before throwing herself onto the floor in order to crank out her usual wake up routine of 750 push-ups. Which would not be an issue, had it not been for the several empty bottles underneath her that she had left on the floor before knocking over the garbage pail that she drunkenly righted in the exact position to properly hit her at the exact point to do enough damage to break her nose.
Simply put, the sound of Layla faceplanting onto a very heavy metal pail, followed by the sound of her breaking several thick 40 oz. bottles with her hands and torso, coupled with her cursing and screaming as loud as she could in pain made sure to alert all of her band mates that Friday's session was already was going to be a weird one.
Bursting through the door first, Yori immediately moved to help her singer as everyone else quickly piled in.
"Is it serious?", Shaushka worriedly asked as she kneeled next to Yori to tend to Layla's wounds. The pixie sized bassist shook her head, before moving her hands closer to Layla's face. Yori was not going to say it, but the look of worry on her face immediately caught on to Shaushka's thoughts: "no one's nose is supposed to go perfectly sideways".
"What happened?", Mayra commanded as she crossed her arms.
"Da 'uge," Layla replied. "Brote mah node and broten bahduhls."
"I meant your clock," Mayra just pointed at her bedside. Alma took this moment to just slide in behind the lead guitarist to dramatically flop on to Layla's bed. curling up and pretending to sleep.
"He had id-"
With lightning fast reflexes, followed by Layla hissing through her teeth like the sound of a hot mic with too much gain, Yori placed her thumbs on the sides of the battered bad ass's nose and reset the cartilage. The resulting wet snap made everyone in the room cringe.
"...coming."
Patting her on the shoulders twice with a bright smile, Yori took Layla's hand, easily helping her stand as Shaushka gave Layla's arms and torso the once over.
"Any other injuries?"
Layla's hands roamed across her torso, flexing reflexively as her body was already starting to heal itself, pushing out the glass shards that stabbed her in the chest and abdomen from the fall.
"Nothing I can really... FUCK!!!"
"What's wrong," Mayra asked, worried something really HAD happened.
"This shirt's RUINED," Layla replied, pulling it taut for everyone to see the torn and blood stained sky blue Two Ton Terrors tour shirt she had been wearing for the past 5 months. "This was my favorite shirt to sleep in!"
The ladies groaned and facepalmed at Layla's reaction. Of course, the most "in the moment" member of the band would only care about something fleeting like a t-shirt instead of something inconsequential like "what if she wasn't able to heal herself through her own divine powers".
"We'll uh," Shaushka began as she hurriedly began pushing the rest of the band out the door. "We'll just let you get changed. Food's ready, so is coffee. Can you grab Alma for me, Mayra?"
Quietly reaching down, Mayra wrapped her arms around Alma's middle, gently picking the thick Latinx beauty up with ease. Turning towards the door, Yori and Shaushka could only giggle as their drummer went limp on Mayra's powerful shoulder, giving the rest of her friends a look reminiscent of an unhappy cat who had just gotten a bath against its will before disappearing into the hallway.
"Take your time," Shaushka told Layla, as she put her hands on Yori's shoulders. "We'll be waiting."
Yori could only give a short wave before the door was closed, leaving Layla all alone. Gingerly touching her face, her mind drifted back to the dream she was having before she was so rudely woken up. A dream of herself looking as she had just a year ago, small and weak. So ordinary, so invisible. All alone on stage in an empty auditorium, with a spotlight on her that was so bright, it drowned out everything else. The fear and insecurity welling up inside her as phantom voices echoed all around her.
You don't belong on stage, her bully of a sister told her.
"You aren't pretty enough for the spotlight," her mother told her.
"You're just not cut out for music," her music tutor told her.
"You're too weak for when things really get difficult," her father told her.
"There's no one in the world that will listen to you," her lifelong friend but truly enemy told her.
As the voices grew louder, her emotions began to overwhelm her. Tears began to flow as she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into the mire underneath her feet. She didn't know what to do, resigning herself to inaction.
That's when she heard it. A guy's voice, subtle and quiet but strong. She lifted her head, straining to hear what he had to say.
I think you've got some real talent!
Within her heart, Layla could feel something growing. She didn't know what it was, but it felt warm, like sunlight pouring itself into her veins. Something within her was telling her she had to fight back, to take control. That there was something more than what the bastards who tried to limit who she could be her entire life were saying.
You don't belong on a stage!
"FUCK YOU," Layla screamed, forcing herself to walk out of the quagmire at her feet.
You're not pretty enough!
"I'm not pretty?!," Layla asked, reaching up as she began to pull handfuls of her hair off the side of her head, with the remaining follicles on top slowly starting to straighten and stiffen into peaks. "FUCK YOUR NOTION OF PRETTY!"
You're not cut out for music!
Reaching behind her back, Layla produced a purple and black Gibson SG Supreme before striking a detuned Major D chord with panache. A look of pure anger and determination on her face as the hair on top of her head finally stood tall and proud into a mohawk.
You're too weak!
She could feel her dress getting tighter with every beating of her heart. The flames trickling underneath her skin serving as the catalyst as her body began to unnaturally grow and become heavier. She could somehow feel her body mass shifting, adding layer upon layer of sinew. She couldn't help but start flexing as she felt the seams of her clothes begin to pop. The sound of fabric tearing bringing her an almost unknown pleasure that rivaled every orgasm she ever had. The underwire of her bra scraping her nipples as it gave up entirely sent a sweet shudder down her spine as her lats and back bulked up so quickly, never even giving the previously oversized hand-me-down garment a ghost of a chance to be removed willingly. Followed shortly by a tantalizing breeze as her legs completely shredded through her jeans, throbbing and pulsing so rapidly with each moment of growth. She could feel her bones getting stronger, stretching her hips out as her ass reached a size and firmness that stretched her panties to their limits before they joined her bra in non-existence, leaving her bare to the world. Grabbing the neckline of her shirt, she deftly split it down the middle, growling as to intimidate the invisible voices all around her, throwing the shirt away as she posed and willed herself to grow bigger.
"I'M NOT GIVING UP ON MY DREAMS LIKE YOU DID! SO SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU COWARD!"
Whipping her head around, Layla tried to pierce through the blinding spotlight to see where the voices were coming from.
"Well," Layla taunted. "It's just you and me, Diane! What do you got to say to me NOW?!"
A throaty chuckle filled the air, echoing and reverberating through the stillness until it grew into a cold, maniacal laugh.
What do I have to say to you now?
Spreading her arms wide, Layla presented her nude body to her tormentor.
"Bring it on, you gold digging, approval seeking, scum sucking little bitch! All you got are your fake tits and flat-assed insults! I've got my music and my Muscle Machine!"
At least people want to hear it when I-
Suddenly, the voice of the man returned, stronger and louder than before.
LAY-LA!
Hearing that voice again, it finally clicked for Layla. She knew that voice from somewhere, but whose was it? Each time it called out her name, it got louder and louder, joined by more and more. She could hear the panic in Diane's voice as the chants swelled, drowning out every attempt her former fake friend made to get them to stop. And with each round, the power within her grew and grew as her body acclimated to the love and adoration the unseen audience was giving her. Golden tears streamed down her face as she looked out once more, seeing the silhouette of someone growing clearer and clearer, until at last she saw-
And that's all she could remember before being so rudely woken by that damned alarm clock. But for some reason, the sunlight in her veins never went away. Doing her best to hide it while the girls were surrounding her, Layla knew she was riding a high she had never felt before. Something that she realized no substance could ever give her. Wondering if it was an aspect of The Ascension Game, she grabbed her phone to take a quick selfie. She had to remind Brandon that they were practicing tonight, and wanted him to be there. As she lifted her bloodied shirt to take a selfie of her flexing, she saw just how defined her abs had become, truly on the verge of an eight pack. Even with it bunched up around her chest, the shirt felt tighter in the chest, back and arms too. Like she had somehow put on more mass in her sleep.
Unconsciously smiling and blushing like a schoolgirl, she took the pic and sent it off to her Acolyte. Proceeding to get changed as she excitedly started her day, the coursing of sunshine in her blood and the sensation of butterflies in her stomach not disappearing for one second.
-
It wasn't the fact that the girls had arranged a ride for him to their place that made Brandon a little weirded out.
"You should probably eat up," Shaushka said from the front passenger seat, quickly digging into her Mediterranean Wrap from the local Mummy's Tomb fast food spot while Yori was happily bouncing in the seat next to him.
It was the fact that they showed up, just as he was about to message them for their address for a Ryde, bringing with them his exact order of a Highlander wrap, with extra lamb and beef, extra Horseradish, and no pickles with a large black tea with no sugar. When he had neither told them where he lived, NOR what he liked to order. And yet here he was, in their van, as even Mayra at the wheel was drinking her extra large drink.
"I gotta ask," Brandon stated, laboriously chewing as he spoke. "How'd you find out where I lived?"
Yori took a quick drink of her cola before licking her lips and turning towards him.
"Quicker this way!"
"That didn't answer my question," he replied, visibly confused.
"Yes it did," Mayra countered, pointing back over her shoulder with her drink hand. Brandon noticed that Shaushka was tapping the side of her head, not so subtly telling him to think on it. It was only a couple seconds before he realized they HAD answered him, making him feel somewhat small.
"Goddesses," he mumbled. "Duh."
As the ladies laughed at his comment, he noticed something very interesting. Though they were wholly distinct, every one laughed in a perfect pitch to work in a perfect harmony. Yori's high soprano, Shaushka's mid-Alto, and Mayra's almost tenor like rumble interweaving in perfect balance to create this somewhat magical tapestry of mirth that seemed to worm its way into his core. Penetrating his defenses and drawing him out of feeling down about himself to join in on the joke.
"Guess that explains the order too," he thought to himself, chuckling like he just heard a really good nonsensical joke. Suddenly, he felt the van begin to slow down.
"Alright," Mayra called out. "We have arrived! Brandon? Welcome to Casa del Goddesses!"
Looking out the front window, Brandon's excitement was at its peak with the realization that he was about to see where literal Goddesses lived and-
"Huh."
What he saw was something altogether more... ordinary. A house barely bigger than his own, albeit possibly more rundown, in the middle of nowhere, and surrounded by a field absolutely dominated by various construction signs and warnings from dangerous animals to hazards to political support over 20 years old. Far more unwelcoming than he expected, and definitely far more lower rung suburban in feel at the end of a dirt road.
"Let me guess," he began, watching the girls quickly heading to the house as he climbed out. "Keeping a low profile in case of rivals?"
"Nice thought," Shaushka replied. "But it's far more threatening than that."
Brandon stopped dead in his tracks.
"What could be worse than other gods?"
Without missing a beat, Mayra spun mid-stride and walked backwards with a smile.
"Economics."
With a look that expressed both how obvious the answer was, as well as how stupid he felt for the second time that day, Brandon just nodded as he began jogging to catch up. On the third step on the gravel laden road, it suddenly dawned on him they had parked the van a good distance from the house.
"Wait, why couldn't we just drive up to the hou-"
The sudden drop underneath his foot caught him by surprise, pitching him forward as he helplessly flailed his arms. But the sudden reassuring grip on his arm quickly began pulling him along. The mighty presence of Mayra, coolly jogging backwards with him step for step, reminding him that she was there for him like he was there for her.
"That's why. Holes like that can kill a van's alignment, and we don't have the money for that. Follow my lead, okay?"
"Y-yeah..."
Keeping his eyes on the road, Brandon let Mayra lead him down the trap laden road. Each gentle tug guiding him around each dip and pothole in their way until finally, a little winded and more than a little shaken, he had reached their front door. Not even paying attention as both Yori and Shaushka both cheered him on like he had just completed a marathon.
"Good job on not breaking anything," Shaushka warmly congratulated him.
Yori, however, was ever the ball of energy she was, hooting and hollering. Chuckling to herself, Mayra just strode past them all and opened the door.
"Now that the gang's all here, we can get started."
With that, she ushered everyone inside. But unknown to them all, a lone car pulled into the long driveway. A car that had subtly followed them the entire way from Brandon's place. A car as ordinary as unassuming as the person it belonged to. A car that belonged to the one person in the world that Brandon did not want to know where he was at any point whatsoever.
The car that belonged to Shelly Veston.
"I knew something was off about you, Brandon! Time for find out what it is!"
-
I'm so sorry I forgot about your awesome story and I'm glad I'm back now. Cause it's amazing. Is this a novel? I'd buy this novel
-
I'm so sorry I forgot about your awesome story and I'm glad I'm back now. Cause it's amazing. Is this a novel? I'd buy this novel
Currently working on another novel (a Fantasy Horror tale, to be exact). But I'm trying to find time to come back to this one and at least get it to a good point to take a breather while I try and hopefully turn this into a comic script.
-
Doing her best to be stealthy in broad daylight, Shelly stalked her way down the long road. But at every turn, her feet found every single pothole there was, throwing her to the dirt and gravel repeatedly at every leg of the journey. But never dismayed, she pressed on until, bloodied and bruised from just below her shorts to her socks, she finally reached the rundown house. Pulling out her phone, she furiously swiped and tapped, bringing up the camera function.
"My name is Shelly Veston, and I'm making this record in case of my demise or the like. If this ends up getting on the news and I become famous for either the best reasons or the best WORST reasons, my address is 3853 West Archeron St., Template-"
The sound of squealing and laughter broke her concentration, forcing Shelly to dive for cover near the open front window. Peaking over the sill with a journalistic sense of voyeurism, Shelly's eyes went wide as she saw a jacked punk slut practically spear the man she had her suspicions about overenthusiastically, while the Insta-thot she had seen previously on his phone slowly wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling into his shoulder like a cat.
"Brandon! I missed you!"
"We talk to each other every day, Layla!"
"That doesn't mean I don't miss you!"
Shelly quickly crawled back into hiding before turning the camera lens back towards herself.
"And it seems I might have stumbled onto some sort of sex cult nonsense," she whispered. "So unassuming, that Brandon Charles. Could he be the one in charge? Or is he the victim of these depraved muscle sluts, bound and beaten into submission by the whims and wants of these haughty, hefty harlots?"
"If I may," Shaushka loudly proclaimed. "You two should eat. This is a band meeting, after all. And we have important concert stuff to talk about."
If the people in the house could see the look on their Peeping Tom's face at the revelation that she had invaded a far more mundane seeming incident than she anticipated, the whole house would be filled with laughter. Thankfully, she had hidden herself away so she could hide the embarrassment she was feeling right now.
"That still doesn't prove they AREN'T a sex cult!"
Flipping it back from reverse camera mode, Shelly slowly lifted the phone back up over the sill to continue recording the women she would argue that she was in no particular way, shape, form or notion absolutely jealous of, all because she felt she deserved to know as much as possible about everyone at all times to make sure her assumptions about everyone were always correct.
"So," Shaushka continued. "To give everyone a brief heads up, we have a gig two weeks from now. Guarantee is $1000, believe it or not."
Shelly couldn't believe what she was hearing. She tailed Brandon for several days, followed the rabbit hole of every person he was in contact with, even hacked into his accounts to read every message. But not a single one of the ladies that were currently in the building showed up ANYWHERE. But here he was, surrounded by these imposing women (and one overly energetic Japanese girl), with a smile on his face that made him look like the King of Harem County or something. Her mind drifted to every lewd and sexual idea, letting them drift off one by one until she noticed the tall black girl had raised her hand.
"I think everyone here's gonna ask: where's the show at, and what's the lineup?"
"Not everyone," the thick insta-thot cut in, yawning and stretching "Did you get me an Atlantis?"
The Japanese girl quickly reached into the bag on the table, pulling out the orders.
"One Atlantis wrap with extra tuna and kettle chips for you," Yori said, handing one to Alma and then Layla. "And one T-Rex wrap for you, with extra beef, tomatoes and worcestershire sauce and Cheddar chips for you."
Both ladies gave their thanks to their bassist before tearing into their meals.
Shaushka fidgeted with her bra over her shirt before clearing her throat.
"Back to the matter at hand, the show will be at Avery's on 23rd Street."
"That place has a pretty good setup," Layla added, choking down her food.
"As for the lineup, we've got second billing. But you're not gonna like who's headlining."
Everyone leaned in closer at the sudden notion of something unexpected.
"Who's gonna be headlining?", Brandon asked.
"Shelly DePalma."
All the girls gasped.
"She went SOLO?", Yori exclaimed.
"You gotta be fucking with me," Layla shouted. "She can play Bass, yeah. But SINGING?"
"I'm with Layla," Mayra added. "Everyone knows she can't sing. She doesn't even have a voice for Crust or Black Metal."
"I'm just letting you know who the headliner was. And apparently, she asked for us, specifically."
"So let me get this straight," Alma said, kicking her feet up on the table. "It'll be a Punk show, straight up?"
Shaushka began to rub her forearm, which the girls knew was her way of dealing with an uncomfortable situation.
"Not exactly. It'll be Robin Of Locksley, who are a British rock band. Then it'll be Garou Inc., a Quebecois Rap group. Then us. And then Shelly, who is now apparently a Pop act."
Layla immediately broke out into laughter at Shelly's sudden change in genre.
"So you're telling me Ms. "Inflatable Inst@gram Doll" is now going to try and be a POP DIVA?!"
"Seems like it," Brandon replied, quickly bringing up Shelly' feed and showing Layla the deluge of new pics, each one more scandalous than the next.
"Holy crap, she got more work done!"
"She's more machine now than man," Brandon added, immediately making Layla double over in laughter at his impression. But soon enough, both were pulled out of their reverie by Mayra knocking on the table three times.
"Focus, people! This show's gonna be a clusterfuck if we're not on top of it, okay? And I don't think Shaushka's finished either, right?"
"Yeah. Look, I hate to make this seem even more apparent of how weird this show's going to be, but THIS also came with the notice..."
With that, she immediately threw a white business card on the table. As he looked at it, he could have sworn that the symbol on it, a golden arrow ladder going through a blue circle inside a purple triangle, seemed to give off a slight glow no matter how he looked at it.
"So I take this is related to the Game?"
Layla grabbed the card, holding it up for Brandon to get a better look.
"More than that. This is a notice for a Battle."
Outside the house, Shelly was entranced.
"Game? Battle? What could all that mea-"
Carelessly trying to reposition herself, Shelly's knee suddenly and rather loudly knocked on the side of the house., causing her to "Meep!" in panic and book it for her car. But before she had even taken a few steps, she heard someone fully open the window behind her.
"Where do you think you're going?", Alma growled, ready to pounce out the window to give chase.
"I don't think so," Mayra countered, quickly grabbing onto Alma's shirt as she proceeded to leap into pursuit and stopping her cold, hanging in mid-air like a cat being held by the scruff of her neck.
"Mayra!", she yowled. "Let me get her! I wasn't gonna HURT her..."
"Brandon," Mayra asked, ignoring Alma's cries and struggling. "Do you know that girl that was just here?"
"Yeah," he replied, watching their unwanted guest stumble around signs before climbing back into her car and driving off. "That's Shelly Veston. Way too nosy for her own good."
Turning back, he proceeded to grab his drink and head to the door.
"I'm sorry, guys. This is my issue, and I brought her here inadvertently. Can you give me a lift home, Mayra?"
Gently putting Alma down, Mayra was stone faced as Alma began to pout.
"No problem."
"Shaushka, send me a message the next time you need me to stop by, alright?"
Without even a goodbye, both he and Mayra proceeded to head out.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
After the two hour drive to get home, Shelly burst through the front door of her rather spacious home, a gift from her father for going to college. Never wanting for anything, it was filled with pretty much anything she wanted that he, the owner of a successful gossip news website, could afford. All her life, she could get anything she wanted, except for one thing: normal interaction with others. And given the number of computers, TV's, recording equipment and more at her disposal, she had gotten scarily good at getting the next best thing: information. Which is why, as she plugged her phone into her primary PC to extract the footage she caught, she couldn't help but begin to feel a strange anger swell within her. The mystery of Brandon's lady friends, this band they were in, the fact they never showed up ONCE when she went looking for them in his messages and interactions on social media sites. It was like they existed, but also DIDN'T exist at the same time. They were a true contradiction, a paradox. And it irked her to no end.
"GOD DAMN IT," she screamed as she slammed her fists down on her desk. "I NEED INFORMATION!"
Suddenly, a notification popped up on her phone.
[I can give you all the info you need.]
Looking around, Shelly was left both confused and unnerved. Was she being watched? Followed? Was someone hacking her?
Ping!
[Don't worry, Michelle.]
Ping!
[I want to help you.]
Ping!
[I can tell you everything, including the situation with Brandon and those ladies you were spying on.]
[There's just one thing I need you to do.]
Shelly's eyes went wide. She knew she should turn the offer down, but she had to know. She had to be involved. She needed this information.
"W-what do I have to do?"
Ping!
[Just click okay.]
Suddenly a pop-up that read "Are you ready, Michelle?" with two buttons, one reading "Confirm" and the other "Deny" appeared on her screen. Her hand hovered over the mouse for a few scant seconds before she quickly clicked Confirmed, immediately making her monitor go dark.
"Oh, God. What did I just do?"
Suddenly, a bright pink eye filled the screen and a smoky voice came through her speakers.
"The right thing, Michelle."
Shelly couldn't help but stare at the screen, as if she was caught in a trance. Unable to respond as she was enraptured by both audio and visual cues as a slight humming noise seemed to overwhelm her senses.
"I'm glad you and I could see eye to eye on this."
-
Over the next week with the weirdness that was Shelly Veston discovering his connection to the Goddesses, Brandon had not seen her in that entire time. No funky smells, no oppressively searching through people's stuff when they weren't looking, no interminable stalking. Just peace and quiet. As he settled into his Friday Literature class, he breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of Shelly in his life.
Clearing his throat, Professor Aramus Wilhelm, Brandon's favorite teacher at the college, stood and held up a copy of The Tale of Roland.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the balding 44 year old man called out. "Welcome back to Romantic Literature! Let us continue with where we left off on Tuesday, about the charge of the Moors on the pinned down forces of the knights of the Holy Roman Empire. Please turn to page-"
The clack of the door broke the statesman like presence of Professor Wilhelm's lesson, drawing all eyes towards whoever was entering. And when Brandon saw who it was, his jaw dropped.
"Sorry I'm late!"
It was Shelly Veston. But also... not her. For one, she actually looked good. Like she had lost some weight. And she was taking care of her skin and hair. And the clothes were... Brandon was at a loss for words. This was a drastic turnaround for anyone, let alone Shelly.
"Heeeey," Shelly partially whined as she walked into the room. "Professor Wilhelm! How's one of my favorite teachers?"
Giving the man a quick hug, Shelly immediately made her way over to where Brandon was sitting. His eyes were on her, suspicion the only emotion he felt. He started thinking about every possibility. Her transformation wasn't natural. His eyes caught something on her wrist. Something new. A pink cybernetic eye, tattooed on her right hand.
"Oh, you like my new mark, Brandi?"
He turned to look Shelly, and could tell something was up.
__________________________________________________
"Ugh! I'm BORED! I don't want to practice anymore today! Can we do something else? Please?"
Mayra knew how Layla was when she was cooped inside too long with only one thing to do. Looking around the room, even Yori, Ms. "So Much Energy She Can Make Paint Drying Feel Like A Speed Run", seemed to be so low key as to be in stasis. And right now, even Alma seemed to be taking a nap on the kit. She knew she had to do something.
"Shaushka? Can you get me the keys? Let's see if Brandon wants to do something after class."
Alma seemed to spring from her nap, wide awake at the mention of their acolyte's name.
"Massages?", she purred.
"Fuck yeah," Layla cheered, unstrapping her guitar. "Let's go visit our acolyte!"
"Fuck yeah," Yori roared.
Shaushka however, noticed something outside. Moving to get a better look, the Arabic keyboardist suddenly put her hands to her mouth and gasped.
"Guys," she shouted. "Look! Look!"
Heeding Shaushka, the band looked at the window, seeing what made Shaushka freak out. A wave of men, all in black suits practically cut off their view of the road. Most of them stood perfectly still, unmoving in the slightest. But something else caught Yori's attention.
"Guys," Yori screamed. "Our van!"
A swarm of those men had surrounded their van, pushing it back and forth until it finally toppled over. Quickly, the men that surrounded it climbed on top, proceeding to damage it further.
"Those fuckers," Layla shouted, furiously charging towards the front door. "I'm going to-"
Alma grabbed Layla's arm and shook her head.
"Don't go," Alma bluntly told her. "Something's wrong."
"Alma's right," Mayra added. "Look at them. Does something seem off about this?"
Layla looked back out the window, trying to figure it out. And with a snap of her fingers, it clicked.
"They all look the same!"
"Like they're the same person," Shaushka inferred.
"That's WICKED," Yori added, totally digging what was happening.
Suddenly, one of the men closest to the house touched something on the side of his head. Then a loud and synthetic voice rang out of his mouth.
"GODDESSES. BY. ORDER. OF. OUR. GODDESS. WE. SHALL. MAKE. SURE. THAT. YOU. WILL. NOT. MAKE. IT. TO. THE. SHOW. IF. SOMEHOW. YOU. SURVIVE. YOU. WILL. STILL. BE. CRIPPLED. TO. THE. POINT. OF. FAILURE."
Layla's looked at her friends and bandmates, confused as Hell.
"What the fuck are they talking about?"
The man who spoke raised his arm high.
"ALL. HAIL. THE. ARTIFICIAL. QUEEN."
Then every man in their yard touched the sides of their heads and lifted their arms high, and spoke in one robotic voice.
"ALL. HAIL. THE. ARTIFICIAL. QUEEN."
And as one, they marched towards The Goddesses.
__________________________________________________
"What's you game, Shelly?"
The stalker with a new makeover just looked at Brandon with an innocent look.
"Game, Brandi? There is no game."
The sound of many heavy footsteps marching through the halls could be heard. As the people in the room started to look around to figure out what was going on, Brandon's eyes were drawn back to the pink cybernetic eye on Shelly's hand.
"Where did you get that tattoo? It's unique."
Shelly held out her hand, like if she was admiring a manicure.
"It's pretty," she said cheerily. "I'm glad she gave it to me!"
Something about this was all kinds of wrong. It takes more than a week to change this much. It was like magic. It was like a miracle. It was like...
"Who gave it to you, Shelly?"
She just smiled and placed her hand over her eye, so the mark placed perfectly with her other one.
"My goddess, Silly Billy!"
The tattoo blinked, the iris seeming to zoom in and out like a camera lens. And a woman's voice filled his head
"MY ACOLYTE AND I SEE YOU, BRANDON."
Like it was Divine Intervention.
-
"We need a plan of action," Shaushka shouted.
Layla started backing up towards her bedroom door.
"Already got one!"
Mayra quickly realized what she was doing.
"Don't do it, girl! We can't afford to-"
With a defiant scream, Layla ran at full speed, and with a mighty leap, broke through the front window to charge at the Artificial Men.
"...replace it."
Alma was quick on her feet, jumping out the window behind her front woman. Yori, for her part, roared with glee as she followed suit. The Artificial Men stopped mid-step as the three madwomen ran at them with all they had, screaming like they were ready to fight. As they drew closer, the three ladies could see just how fake these men really were. A nearly plasticine like texture covered their hands and feet and heads. Their heads were nearly too ovoid in shape, like if a toy was made into a real human. They had no hair at all, creating a deeper feel to the Uncanny Valley between the humans these things were modeled after that their sunglasses could not hide.
"WHAT. ARE. THEY-"
Layla once again leapt at her attackers, launching herself high into the air. Aimed directly at the one that delivered the message from their "Artificial Queen" about their supposed failure like a target locked missile.
"FUCK OFF, YOU FUCKTOY FAILURES!"
Layla's fist came down hard and fast, obliterating the Artificial Man into a small crater, sending a shockwave out and around her landing. Sending two rows of six by six of the analogic antagonizers to the ground.
"AND GET THE FUCK OFF OUR PROPERTY!"
With Alma leaping like a predator to her left, and Yori in a rage to her right, Layla resumed the charge into the heart of the mechanical invaders.
__________________________________________________
Back at the college, Brandon fell out of his chair, scrambling backwards to make some space between him and Shelly.
"What the fuck?!"
Keeping her hand over her eye, the blonde breacher of boundaries stood up, giggling. Whenever she blinked, the eye on her hand blinked. As if her eye was its eye.
"Tch! Brandi," she whined, standing from her seat. "Don't make this DIFFICULT! Just come with me, okay? We'll, like, treat you so super duper nicely before we kill you!"
Brandon found his footing, lifting himself up as he looked around the room for his options.
"Kill me? Why do you want to kill me?!"
Shelly just rolled her eyes.
"Cause if you're dead," she replied, menacingly. "Then they are easier to kill."
He stared at her, wondering what she meant when it came to him.
"The Goddesses!"
Shelly jumped and clapped at his ability to put simple clues together. But then again, she already knew he was the type to be more straightforward, so he needed more time to piece things together.
"Very good, Brandi! I knew you'd get it! But now that you know..."
Bringing her hand back in front of her face, the cybernetic eye zoomed in on him. And with its attention came its voice.
"You... must die!"
At this point, Brandon did the only sensible thing.
He ran as quickly as he could out the door on the other side of the room. As he ran, Shelly pulled out her phone and pulled up an app.
"Do it, my Acolyte."
"Uploading tracer on his phone, my Goddess."
As Brandon ran into the hallway, he saw a massive number of weird looking men. Suddenly, one pointed at him.
"GET. HIM."
The robotic voice immediately sent him into a panic as he took off down the hall, a literal legion of Artificial Men on his tail.
_____________________________________________________
As the battle raged on, Layla was having the time of her life. So many faces to smash, so many fake asses to beat, and her home to save. As she watched Alma tear the Artificial Men to pieces with her claws, and Yori using one after another as a club while she laughed in glee, she knew that this was the perfect answer to her wish for something else to do. She began to pick up the analog assholes she had already beaten down, throwing them back at their dopplegangers, an evil glint in her eye at the mayhem she was causing.
Suddenly, she felt her phone vibrate. Checking it real quick, she saw that Brandon sent the girls a message.
"Shelly avatar help"
Layla's heart dropped. Looking around, she noticed that the number of these mannequin motherfuckers was impossibly large. Which made her realize one thing.
This attack on their home was a diversion.
"MAYRA!!!"
Walking out of the front door like there was a war happening outside, Mayra jogged over to Layla.
"I got it, too. Someone needs to protect Brandon."
Layla looked around, thinking of a plan.
"I'll go. You know these guys are too weak for me."
"Take Yori," Shaushka said, running to catch up. "She can get there almost-"
Taking a glance up, Shaushka stepped back in time for an Artificial Man to land in front of her.
"SORRY," Yori yelled out from somewhere deep in the crowd.
"Yori can get you there almost faster than light."
Mayra slapped her forehead.
"Of course," she chided herself. "The Black Torii!"
Layla knew what the plan was, now.
"YORI," she yelled. "I NEED YOU!"
The petite bassist leapt high into the air.
"Gimme a second," she shouted, waving wildly.
Upon landing, a wall of the fake humans flew into the air.
"Mayra, Shaushka? Can you guys give Alma a hand?"
Alma threw herself at a rushing group of attackers, landing on the man in front and swiping at him with a yowl. Shredding through every man that even dared come close to her.
"I got this," she shouted back, licking her hand.
Moving so she could be heard better, Shaushka didn't notice as an Artificial Man was running right at her.
"We need all hands on deck! Yori and Layla are-"
As is the way for those who have never been in a fight before, time seemed to slow down for Shaushka. Alma with a mask of savagery on her face as she was ripping an Artificial Man apart. Yori with the boundless joy she always felt, hovering in the air mid-leap. Layla with a look of surprise. And her attacker, inches away from her with all the emotion of snow. She didn't know what to do.
But suddenly, something much faster came into view. A muscular arm, with skin as dark as volcanic obsidian, glowing from the lava lines that flowed beneath it, snatched her assailant from the air by its neck, pulling it away from her.
"Don't you DARE touch her," Mayra growled, putting her hands on either side of its head and squeezing. Its inorganic flesh melting and burning as its exo-skeleton creaked and then screamed as Mighty Mayra crushed its head in one go. An explosion of superheated metal as the head collapsed before she threw it to the ground.
"What's up?", Yori said, a smile on her face. "Oh, man! I missed Mayra crushing something!"
"Yori," Shaushka cut in. "Focus. Brandon's in trouble."
Yori's face immediately became serious.
"You need me to call up the Black Torii, don't you?"
All three ladies nodded.
"You and me need to save him," Layla added.
"Then stay close."
Yori began to run away from the field, towards the back of the house.
"We'll be back soon," Layla yelled.
Once they round the side of the house, Yori started digging into her palm to pay the toll of the gate. Once the blood started to flow, she raised her hand up high.
"I call upon the Black Torii, the Gate of Demons! The toll is paid, heed my call! Take us to our Acolyte, and open once more so we may come back home!"
A shadow fell over the yard as the girls ran further on. And in a shimmer, a gigantic black torii gate made of bones and rotted flesh and dried blood appeared.
"Hold on tight, Layla!"
Taking hold of her bassist's hand, she let Yori take the lead as she picked up speed. Layla's feet were up in the air as Yori ran as fast as she could, straight through into the realm of the damned. The darkness soon dissipated and the gate vanished from this realm once more.
-
As he ran for his life down the college halls, Brandon wracked his brains trying to think of an escape. Every turn he made, they made. Every flight of stairs he took, they took. His lungs were burning, his legs felt gummy and stretched. Sweat poured down his body as he could do the only thing he could in this situation.
But no matter what, the Artificial Men gave chase.
Bounding through a doorway, he found himself once more at the top of the stairs. Looking down them, he noticed another student was heading out the door on the first floor. And suddenly, an idea came to him. Hearing the steps of a hundred unnatural humans, Brandon grit his teeth and did something he hadn't done since middle school.
He threw himself over the railing, down to the stair bannister below. As soon as he landed, he felt the terrible pinch in his knees, letting him know something had gone wrong. But he pressed onward, skipping levels and feeling more and more pain as the shock of little use built up in him.
"Five floors down," he told himself. "Two more to go."
He let himself fall to the second floor. His hand gripped the railing, his feet braced on the side. And then he felt his knee pop. His hands gave way, sending him into a freefall the rest of the way down the stairwell. And with a wet crack from his shoulder, he reached the bottom. The sound of the 7th floor exit slammed open, followed by the rumble of 200 feet descending the stairs. Knowing he had no choice, Brandon got himself on his feet, shock settling from the trauma and adrenaline fueling his body, and hobbled out the door.
As he painfully limped outside, he pulled out his phone, bringing up the group chat with The Goddesses, and fired off three words with the one hand that still could move.
"Shelly avatar help"
Then, a pink cybernetic eye overwhelmed the screen of his phone.
"Uh uh uh! They can't help you now, Brandon!"
_____________________________________________________________________________
Whenever Yori told Layla about what lied beyond the Black Torii, the bassist would always grow quiet and serious, and reiterate one phrase.
"When you are in the realm of the damned, you keep your eyes shut. It is not meant for living eyes to witness what is there. Trust me."
Heading her advice, Layla's eyes were squeezed tight. The smell of rot and sickly sweet things burning in the fire made her gag. The air felt heavy and foul on her skin. The taste of ash and bitterness on her tongue made her ill. And through the whistling of the wind, the air was filled with the sounds of torture, of screams, of the wet tearing of flesh and the suffering of the damned. She was almost sure that those sensations alone would give her nightmares for weeks.
"I may love horror movies," she told herself. "But this experience alone is on another level."
"Of course it is," Yori shouted. "This is Jigoku. We're in Hell."
The realization dawned on Layla just what Yori's domain actually consisted of.
"Wait! Are you a Goddess of Death, Yori?"
Yori just laughed at Layla's question.
"No, silly!"
Layla breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'm a Goddess of Judgment!"
Layla could not help herself, and opened her eyes to stare at her friend and pantheon mate. But what she saw beyond her frightened the front woman to her core.
There, beyond the horizon and imposed upon the stygian sky was a man behind a gigantic desk. Looming larger and intimidatingly across the landscape Garbed in ancient robes and an old official's hat, his deep red and bloated face furiously peered down upon the landscape. By him were two gigantic rotting heads, a woman's head on his right and a man's head on his left. Feeling fear within her soul, Layla could do nothing but gasp at the sight.
"Close your eyes," Yori commanded. "Do not let Emma-O see you with open eyes, or he will judge you like any other soul!"
As Emma-O's gaze drifted her way, Layla once again closed them tightly.
"I'd like to be back among the living soon, please..."
She heard Yori laugh and felt her picking up speed.
"Almost there! Just hang on!"
________________________________________________________________________________
As soon as the eye appeared on his screen, Brandon threw his phone away and started hobbling away. But before he could get even six feet from the door, he felt a large hand grab him by the back of his neck and then his feet leave the ground. Turning his head, he saw a gigantic woman who just looked... wrong. Unlike the Artificial men, she was actually pretty. But the kind of pretty that veers into unnatural, uncomfortable territory that makes one feel like there is something immediately wrong. An artificial construct that was trying way too hard to be human-like instead of just barely. And as he gazed down, this Artificial Woman was designed to be powerful, if the tight dress suit around its large, bulging frame was anything to go by.
"Brandi, Brandi, Brandi!"
The clack of her heels drew his attention.
"I told you," Shelly told him. "You're coming with us."
The door he had limped through burst open as the Artificial Men that were chasing him swarmed out of the building, making a circle around Brandon, Shelly and the Artificial Woman that was holding him by his neck.
"After all, my goddess wouldn't want you getting MORE hurt until she decides what to do with you!"
"Buy for time," the Acolyte told himself. "Buy for fucking time!"
"W-what are you going to do to me," he asked. "I mean, before you kill me?"
Shelly rolled her eyes and pursed her lips.
"Tch, what any sane person would do when someone's standing in the way of the Ascension of a person who deserves it!"
She looked at the helpless man, hanging in the air by his neck, and remembered who she was dealing with.
"Oh yeah," she muttered. "I forgot you're the dense kind of guy who needs things spelled out for you."
Walking forward, she poked his belly.
"First thing's first," she told him, dancing her fingers up his abdomen. "You're going to tell us everything we need to know!"
Brandon winced at the discomfort he was feeling, the adrenaline wearing off.
"Oh yeah," he groaned. "L-like what?"
Shelly looked at Brandon, unamused as she knew he was playing dumb now. So, noticing his slowly swelling right arm, quickly grabbed it and viciously yanked hard. Drawing a scream of suffering from the man she had in her grasp.
"Don't play dumb, Brandi! It's a TERRIBLE look for you!"
Motioning for the Artificial Woman to lower him closer, Shelly's hand grabbed his jaw, shaking him to keep him focused on her.
"Now, you're going to tell me everything you know about-"
The sky grew dark as a foul flew blew through the courtyard. Every Artificial Man turned to look as a giant black gate, covered in rotting flesh, bones and dried blood shimmered into view. And through the darkness beyond it, two people came through. A petite Asian girl and a buff looking white girl with teal colored hair being pulled behind her. And as they came to a stop, the gate behind them faded away, and the light once more broke through.
"Well," Shelly said, amused by the sudden appearance. "Would you look at that! Glad you two could join-"
Layla raised her hand up.
"Give me a second, would you?"
Shelly's face scrunched up in confusion at the second.
"Why would I-"
Suddenly, Layla turned to the side, just in time for her stomach to completely empty itself right there on the spot. Foamy and viscous, projectile vomit flew from her mouth in great wave after wave. After three magnificently gross spouts, Yori was rubbing Layla's back to comfort her. Standing up and stretching, the punk rock goddess turned to look at the people that held her Acolyte.
"That is so disgust-"
Quickly, Layla turned and proceeded to throw up again, this time in greater volume. The contents more of a fluid consistency, dark and sickly looking from her time in Hell. After four incredible heaves, she began to take deep breaths, wiped her mouth off and stood up.
"Now, if you're finished-"
Once more, she leaned down and away, as mucus and bile were expelled from her stomach and throat. Thankfully, it was only a small amount. Spitting the taste out, Layla stood and sighed, bouncing on her feet.
"Man, I feel much better!"
Yori rolled her eyes and smiled.
"I told you to not open your eyes while we were in Hell," she told her friend.
"What in the fuck is wrong with all of you?", Shelly screamed, disgusted and upset that they weren't seemingly taking this situation seriously.
"What's wrong?", Layla asked, incensed.
"Layla," Brandon moaned, looking like he was in serious pain. "Yori..."
Both women immediately grew more furious at the state their Acolyte was in.
"You're going to give us our friend back," Layla screamed. "And you're going to do it NOW!"
Shelly laughed a cruel laugh and rolled her eyes.
"And what are you going to do? Hit me?"
Her hand reached out, slapping Brandon in his knee and making him cry out in pain.
Suddenly, the air grew hot and the wind began to blow. A roiling could be heard from up above as the clouds began to shift and turn dark. And then they watched as Layla eyes and hands began to glow as she seemed to be growing.
"That's it," Layla growled. "You hurt my Brandon. Pray to whatever god you are the Acolyte of while you can. Because you are OURS, now!"
-
Starting to get the feeling I should stop writing this story about Gods and Goddesses fighting in Music competitions and literal battles so that one party may join the greater pantheons in godhood. Because despite being about a group of powerful and/or muscular women in the lead roles, it doesn't have a lot of what the rest of this section of the forum seems to like.
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Great work. Ignore the haters.
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I really like this story so far and I'm looking forward to the rest of it. Great work so far.
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Please continue to post here. This is a great story and you have me hooked!
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You're not alone. Not everyone with a muscle fetish is turned on by displays of sadism. On the contrary, for some, like me, they are a huge turn off.
You're a good writer. Keep it up!
-
You're not alone. Not everyone with a muscle fetish is turned on by displays of sadism. On the contrary, for some, like me, they are a huge turn off.
This 100%. It’s possible to love muscular women as equals. It is possible to have a relationship that does not require subservience. But that’s just me.
-
You're not alone. Not everyone with a muscle fetish is turned on by displays of sadism. On the contrary, for some, like me, they are a huge turn off.
This 100%. It’s possible to love muscular women as equals. It is possible to have a relationship that does not require subservience. But that’s just me.
If you noticed, I'm actually trying to angle the story around that point about subservience. A normal man who is caught up in a situation where his attraction towards a certain someone (3 guesses who) is not equal, but she likes him in kind and is trying to find a way to be with him on a balanced level. Even the platonic relationships he develops is like that (Yori is a prime example of that).
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You have a great story here. Please continue with it
-
As Brandon dangled there in the giant Artificial Woman's hand like a ragdoll that was slowly being torn apart, Brandon's eyes kept blurring as he saw looked at Layla. Through the haze, he could swear he saw a larger, brighter copy of Layla imposed either behind or above her. Billowing and floating like a white smoke all around, teeming with power and anger like she was now. And behind Yori was a cloud of blue and black smoke, dark and imposing as it stormed in stark contrast to her normally small frame, in a way that he would call demonic. Like if the smoke she was attached to was watching, listening, waiting, judging.
Two greatly contrasting women.
Two greatly contrasting shadows.
Two greatly different goddesses.
Two greatly angered beings.
"Really," Shelly taunted. "You're going to threaten me? You know you can't actually touch-"
Layla lifted her hand towards the Artificial Men toward Shelly's right, opened her hand and quickly closed it. One second, the twenty Artificial Men in that direction were whole. And the next, their legs fell twitching to the ground, oil and sparks flying into the air as their upper halves atomized instantly in a burst of brilliant light.
"Holy SHIT," Layla shouted, surprised.
"Did you know you could do that?", Yori asked, jumping and clapping at this new discovery.
"No! This is all new to me!"
"Cool! Can you do a Spirit Bo-"
"A-HEM!!!"
Getting back in focus, the goddesses looked over at Shelly, annoyed at the fact that people were not giving her the attention she wanted, and realized they still had to save their Acolyte.
"You get Brandon free," Layla told Yori. "I've got these fake fucks."
With a fist bump, Yori leapt high into the air as Layla charged forward.
"Stop that dumb bitch," Shelly commanded her minions, all marching dutifully to get in the way.
"Hey, Miss Robo!
The Artificial Woman turned its head to its shoulder, looking directly at Yori.
"Let my friend go!"
Raising her hand, Yori flicked the robotic woman in the forehead with her finger. With greater speed than she expected, the Artificial Woman grabbed the diminutive bassist, and in one throw, sent her sailing to the rooftop of the college. Meanwhile, try as they might, the Artificial Men were being thoroughly toyed with as Layla tore through them like paper. Every facsimile falling to the wayside in scraps and sparks as she separated limbs from torso, heads from shoulders, and bodies from legs with every swing of her hands. If the Artificial Men had the ability to feel fear like Shelly Veston could, this one woman rampage would be sending them into a terror driven panic for survival like the Acolyte herself was reaching.
"My goddess," she begged. "Isn't it about time for us to come-"
"I SAID LET MY FRIEND GO!"
With a boom, Shelly was thrown into the air screaming as Yori returned to the fight, stomping into the ground with all the presence of a bomb as she pried the robot's fingers from around Brandon's neck. Sliding out of its grasp, he fell down towards Yori as she quickly caught him.
"Yori...," he groaned.
"I got you," she told him. "You're gonna be okay!"
Turning towards her bandmate, she watched as she tore through the last of the Artificial Men in her wake, the pieces of nearly 200 robotic soldiers littering the ground around her.
"Layla, take care of Brandon for-"
Layla's eyes went wide as she saw the Artificial Woman moving towards her bassist.
"YORI," she screamed. "LOOK OUT!"
Turning just in time, Yori's hands quickly met the Artificial Woman's in a deadlock. A contest of strength had just begun.
"Grab Brandon," Yori shouted. "I've... got her!"
Layla watched as Yori struggled with the giant robot, using all of her strength to hold it back while she could gently pick up her Acoyte.
"Layla," was all Brandon could whisper, using the arm that wasn't swollen and turning purple to gently place his hand on her face before passing out in her arms. Tears began to flow freely at the situation he was in because of them, and the realization of the suffering he must have been in waiting for them to arrive. She cried his name as her heart felt like it was breaking at the pain and agony they had forced upon him by bringing him into the Ascension Game as their Acolyte. Her apologies came out of her like song as she apologized for everything her selfishness had caused, and how she didn't want to lose him. And how she had hurt him by not being open and honest.
"Layla," Yori called out. "Please stop crying."
Layla looked up at her friend, wiping her eyes.
"We'll be going home in a minute."
"Yeah, we-"
Suddenly, the sound of tearing fabric caught her ear.
"Yori," she asked. "What's going on?"
Blue and black smoke began to billow out, as if Yori was breathing it out of her.
"Doing my job," Yori replied.
The sounds that filled the air reminded Layla of their time in the Black Torii. The wet ripping of flesh, the sizzle and pop of meat in the fire, the snapping and cracking of bones. But all those sounds were coming from Yori as her body began to distort and shift. Bones reforming as they grew larger and thicker. Her muscles twitching and swelling with explosive growth. Her height shooting up once, then again and again. The way her flesh discolored and deepened, a bluish hue overtaking her natural pale skin tone. Her grunts and gasps deepening as she grew taller and bigger. The sound of her skin popping open as one row of horns, then another, and then another shot out of her scalp. Then the transformation slowed.
And Layla saw that her friend, Yori the 5'0 tall bassist had transformed from the Little Oni of the band into a real Oni, fourteen feet tall, heavily muscled, her skin a deep blue color and naked to the world.
"Y-Yori?", Layla stammered, frightened at this side of Yori that she had never shown anyone before.
The Artificial Woman stared up at the thing that the little Japanese girl had become, a clear difference of six or seven feet between the two, trying to calculate how best to handle this monster. But it was not given the chance, as Yori laughed maniacally in a deep voice before swiftly bearing down and biting the head off the robotic behemoth in one smooth motion. Grabbing the open neck hole as she chewed, the Oni began to pull the Artificial Woman apart before spitting the remnants of its crushed head down its neck and sending it soaring through the air as she threw it into the nearby park a mile away.
Layla's eyes remained glued on her friend, taking in every detail and bit of definition. She had to be well over 3000 lbs., by her best figure. With how large and overly developed her body was, standing closer to a giant female version of a professional heavyweight male bodybuilder, it was the highest number she could rationalize before her mind gave way to hysterics, giving how scary she now looked.
"Layla," Yori spoke, two voices coming out of its... her mouth at once, normal and bestial. "Let's go home."
Yori kneeled down, opening her palm flat to carry both her front woman and their Acolyte to safety. Reticently, she climbed onto Yori's hand, making her feel small against the imposing impossibility that was her bassist.
"Ready as I can be," Layla sighed, taking a deep breath.
"Remember," Yori told her. "When going through the Black Torii..."
"I know," Layla replied. "Keep my eyes closed."
Looking to Yori's left, Layla watched as the last of the Artificial Men carried Shelly away as she was complaining how she was in "so much pain". But Layla could immediately tell all she had was a bruise or two and nothing more.
Closing her eyes, Layla held onto Brandon tightly, crying once more.
"Let's go home," she told Yori. Within seconds, the sky darkened and the Black Torii appeared. And within a few steps, they were through the gate and making their way home as the Black Torii vanished from the realm once more.
-
Great work. Karma plus
-
Surveying the field, Shauska knew that there would have to be quite a bit of work needed to clean up the literal tons of scrap that littered their yard. For her part, Mayra was finishing the last of the Artificial Men that dared put up a fight. Alma, however, was nonchalant as ever, on her haunches as she yawned on the hill of fake humans she had made in some sort of bizarre game. Given how dirty her hands were, Shaushka was surprised the drummer wasn't cleaning them like a cat would, given her domain and everything.
"Mayra," she called out to her guitarist. "We should probably get the van upright. We need to see how badly these robots damaged it."
"Gimme a sec," Mayra told her. Her hands burning brightly, Mayra shot them to the sky. And in perfect sync, a series of hands made of liquid lava burst through the ground, grabbing the last of the functioning fakers and pulling them into the Earth below. The spots on which they were standing sealing up perfect and unharmed, leaving no trace of them, whatsoever.
"Alma! Wanna give me a hand with the van?"
The Central American beauty just scratched the side of her, shrugged her shoulders and slid down the pile of bodies she had made.
"Nah," she replied, shaking her head. "You know I'm not as strong as you."
Shaking her arms, bits of lava flew from her hands as they cooled and dimmed, and ancient furnace heat went back to normal human temperatures as his limbs became flesh once more. All so Mayra could rub her eyes behind her aviators without warping them into cinders and junk.
"One of these days, Alma," she said. "We'll HAVE to talk about your participation in the band's responsibilities..."
The sky grew dark, as if reality had shifted sideways and upside down, and a foul wind picked up from out of nowhere.
"What's happening?", Shaushka shouted, panicking.
"It's the Black Torii," Mayra shouted. "They're on their way back!"
Suddenly, there was a shimmed in the distance, and where once was empty space, something began to take shape. And soon, the rotted flesh, the dried blood and blackened bones of the Black Torii took shape.
Alma, scanning the distance with the gate, noticed something.
"Look alive," she warned them. "I don't recognize whatever's coming through, but it's BIG and it looks MEAN!"
Quickly placing themselves in front of Shaushka, Mayra stood tall as Alma growled and bared her fangs. The stomping sounds grew louder and louder, putting the three on edge in anticipation. Then it arrived. Standing fourteen feet tall, with fangs and a crown of horns. Brutish, massive, bestial. All these words and more came to mind as they watched the naked thing running at them. It looked like it was built for war. It looked like it could crush them with its bare hands.
Then Shaushka realized it was carrying something. And one of the things had teal colored hair.
"Guys," Shaushka screamed. "I think that's Yori!"
Mayra could not believe her eyes at her bassist's current form. This thing was powerful. It was MASSIVE. And unlike the bassist's normal form, it was STACKED.
Alma, however, could not fully process what was going on. Her head kept darting from the creature approaching them to Mayra, to Shaushka, to the creature, to Shaushka, to Mayra. Babbling and unable to put a coherent thought together. All she knew was that this was completely opposite to what she had been led to believe.
Bracing her legs, Yori slid to a stop a few feet in front of them, sending up a giant wave of dirt and dust, showering her bandmates in soil, causing Alma to spit and cough from all that had gotten in her mouth.
"Shaushka," Layla screamed from on Yori's hand, tears streaming down her face. "Help! Please, help!"
Running to her friend's aid, she bid Yori lower her hand to give her access. The sight of Brandon's battered and broken body in Layla's arms, his right arm nearly black, the dark red ring around his neck, the way his left leg just twisted in the worst wrong way. She did not need her gifts to see that Brandon was so grievously harmed, he was on the verge of dying.
"It's a miracle you got to him in time," Shaushka said as she kneeled by her Acolyte's side, seeing that he was struggling to barely even breathe. "Hold him still and let me work!"
Layla was trembling as she saw her keyboardist looking him over.
"How bad is he, 'Ska?"
"He is in extremely bad shape," she said, focusing as well as she can to distance herself to do her duty. "His left leg is shattered, his femoral artery has been completely shredded. His arm is shattered in so many spots, he would normally never be able to use it properly ever again. He has a broken collar bone, severely traumatized spine, his skull was nearly dislocated from his spinal column. Punctured lung. Trauma to his throat. My word, they did so much damage to him in such a short amount of time. It's like they were trying to play with him like Alma would a fish."
Alma shot a look of pure anger and frustration.
"It was ONE TIME-"
Mayra got in-between her two bandmates, keeping the peace.
"Just heal him," Mayra told Shaushka, guiding Alma and Yori to follow her to pick up the van as a distraction.
"Please," Layla begged Shaushka. "I can't lose him. Not when I just got him back..."
Shaushka nodded her head and placed her hands over Brandon's broken body. In a blink, her brown eyes became completely golden metallic orbs as a warm, gentle wind rose up from nowhere. Carrying on it the scent of incense and spices, the aroma of fresh baked bread, the sweetness of fruit and honey. A golden glow gently fell upon the Acolyte. His breathing stilled for a moment, then he gasped for air, deeply and greedily and then stilled into the deep breaths of slumber. Layla's tears began to flow once more as she held the man who was her muse tightly. Thanking her lucky stars that her bandmate's domain was Life itself, and that she had not lost her chance to be with the man she cared for most in the world a second time.
-
By the time Brandon woke up, it was already after dark. Sitting up with a groan and a lot of effort, he took a look around and noticed that he wasn't on the college premises anymore. In fact, it looked like...
" Whoa whoa whoa," Yori called out, rushing to his side. "Shaushka told us you shouldn't be getting up just yet after she practically glued you back together again."
"Shaushka?", Brandon asked. "So I'm at your place? Where's Layla?"
Yuri looked around, seemingly nervous about something.
"She's, uh... indisposed at the moment. You should lay back and rest, alright? Do you need a drink?"
Brandon just shook his head and stubbornly began to stand up.
"I can't. I need to see Layla. See if... See if..."
Before he could even take his first step, his legs betrayed his efforts, falling to the floor and grabbing onto Yori's hoodie for support.
"I told you," the pixie sized bassist told him, grabbing underneath his arms and lifting him like he was a five pound bag as she put him back on the couch. "You shouldn't be up yet!"
Brandon's hands went to his hair, tugging it in frustration.
"This doesn't make sense. I was in class, I saw Shelly and she looked radically different, acted radically different. Then it turns out SHE is an Acolyte, tool. And then those goons that all looked the same were chasing me all over. I ran into the stairwell, fell as I was trying to get away from them. Messaged you girls. Got nabbed by... SOMETHING. Was in real pain. You and Layla appear out of nowhere. I passed out, and you're saying that I, what? Was hurt worse than I imagined or something? You make it sound like I was on the verge of dying!"
The Little Oni was pensive and scared to tell him the truth but, she knew she had to.
"Actually, that's what literally happened."
Brandon looked up at her, the reality of what he went through sinking in as she listed every injury he had, from broken bones to torn arteries, punctured lung to severe spinal trauma. Each infliction of pain and what each injury could have meant if they hadn't gotten there in time tallying up in his mind with every word. By the end of it, Brandon was shaking like a leaf and crying from all he had suffered.
"S-so I'll never...," he stuttered, unable to finish the sentence.
"That's not what I'm saying," Yori said, kneeling down and smiling. "That's IF we weren't there for you. This is a two-way street, you know. You're here for us, and we're here for you."
Brandon's head hung low as his eyes turned towards the floor.
"I bet Layla's not doing so well, right now."
Unseen by her Acolyte, Yori looked out towards the backyard, a serious look on her face.
"You don't know the half of it..."
___________________________________________________________________________
In the backyard, Shaushka and Alma stood watch as a massive nimbus of flashing white light loomed in their yard.
"How long have they been in there?", Alma asks, amazed at the sheer amount of power needed to create something like the lightshow she was witnessing.
"Four hours," Shaushka replied, worryingly. Alma's eyes flit between the gravity well in front of them and the house that they somehow prevented from being destroyed and now held their Acolyte, who six hours prior was on death's door. Alma sighed and scratched her ear, then began to stretch.
"She's gotta be exhausted by now. Using so much energy to create THAT much power? She's gonna hurt herself, or worse."
"What can we do?", Shaushka replied to her drummer friend. "You know how Layla deals with things. And since none of us wanted to throw down with her, she chose to work out, instead. Don't know why she dragged Mayra along with her, though."
Alma just shook her head and put her arm around her friend.
"Look, we should head inside and check on Brandon. Mayra's with her, so if anything happens, she'll take care of it. Okay?"
Shaushka glumly nodded her head, put her arm around her friend's waist and headed back inside. Only looking back when she thought she could hear Layla's screams faintly in the roiling thunder and howling wind that came from within the nimbus.
-
This shit is amazing, keep going man, even if it stops being some muscle stuff like what's normally on this board, continue it somewhere else like d e v i a n t a r t, I'd still read it
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This shit is amazing, keep going man, even if it stops being some muscle stuff like what's normally on this board, continue it somewhere else like d e v i a n t a r t, I'd still read it
When I started out, I wanted it to not quite be like everything else on here. I wanted the set-up to be a group of girls who happen to be goddesses having to go up against more savvy people in The Ascension Game. It's the old "Indie Spirit Vs. Those Willing To Play The System's Game" kind of underdog story, except more in line with "y'all motherfuckers don't know who you're fucking with" type payout.
Sadly, due to the story being a slow burn inspired by comic formatting, it's taken this far to get to the part where all six of them are barely realizing what they're having to deal with by agreeing to play The Game. And I've yet to start really getting into backstories, barely scratching Layla's story and the specific circumstances needed for someone to be invited to Ascend.
But the invite wrinkle will be broached soon, followed by at least one of The Goddesses' history before she "joined the band", in more than one way.
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Yeah, GL, this is an amazing story. I love the detail in it and the fact that the characters aren't monsters - well, not immoral monsters at least.
-
Within the tumultuous nimbus of of the Gravity Well, Mayra was keeping an eye on Layla, worried for her friend's safety as she continued to increase the amount of weight around her to exercise. The sweat slipped immediately from her body from the immense pressure that wrapped around the teal haired singer, screaming in frustration and pain as she lifted the free weights in her hands.
"Layla," Mayra shouted. "You have to stop! If you keep at it, you're going to hurt yourself before the show tomorrow night!"
Layla threw the weights to the ground, sinking in loudly as she screamed once more, hunched over as she began to cry for the fifth time that day.
"It's MY FAULT," she screamed, the pain obvious in her voice and eyes. "Brandon nearly DIED because of us! Because of ME! I nearly lost him again! I... I don't..."
Layla fell to her knees as she wept, deflated and feeling powerless. Mayra quickly went to her bandmate's side, sick with worry as she finally say Layla breaking down. For all of her bravado, Mayra knew the one thing Layla di Scalzi truly was at her core was finally being aired out.
Layla was a frightened, genuinely kind soul within the body of a powerhouse who was still coming to terms with her own past.
"Hey, it'll be alright," Mayra told her, putting her hand on physically imposing singer's shoulder. "Brandon's not dead, alright? You got to him in time!"
"The second time," Layla said, rubbing her eyes as the tears and snot dripped down from her face.
Mayra's ears pricked up at Layla's words.
"Wait, what do you mean by "second time", Layla?"
____________________________________________________________________
Entering the house, Shaushka and Alma saw that Brandon was sitting up on the couch as Yori sat in front of him.
"You shouldn't be up yet," the bountiful beauty said, rushing over to her Acolyte's side to check on him.
"I'm okay," Brandon told her, trying to assuage her worries. "Just a bit weak and tired."
Shaushka turned towards Alma, now in full on doctor mode.
"Could you get him some water, please? And maybe a snack?"
Alma gave a half-hearted salute as she sashayed back into the kitchen.
"Will I be okay?", Brandon asked as Shaushka looked him over.
"You'll be fine. You will feel bit of increased sensitivity to things like bumps and temperature for the next few days. But nothing long lasting. It's a good thing Yori carried you here."
"That must have been awkward," he said to the smallest of the Goddesses. "Carrying a fully grown man all that way."
"If I'm being honest," she said, looking at him with a smirk. "I was fourteen feet tall, had horns and tusks and much, MUCH more fully grown than you at the time."
"Really?"
"Shaushka, turn on the lights please?"
Moving towards the wall, Shaushka flicked on the lights as Yori took off her hoodie. And Brandon's jaw dropped. Now that she was topless, he saw the deep blue coloring spread across her stomach, chest, shoulders and upper arms, and the incredible muscle size and definition she still had even hours after her transformation that stood in stark contrast to the rest of her. Then Brandon's mind clicked on the details.
"So, being called an Oni isn't necessarily a nickname for you, is it?"
"Yeah," Yori replied as she slipped her hoodie back on. "My domain is Judgment and Justice. I have access to The Black Torii, the gate to Jigoku, because by all rights I am both a Goddess AND a Demon."
With a stealth befitting her, Alma quietly hands Brandon a tuna sandwich and a glass of milk before laying on the couch and placing her head on his lap.
"When someone is picked to take part in The Ascension Game," Alma spoke. "We are given a choice: choose to commit an action, and that choice effects what our domain is."
Yori stood up and begins to pace the room.
"When I was chosen, it was at the end of a terrible life for me. I was... I was taken as a child and... used..."
"Oh my God," Brandon muttered, his heart breaking for Yori at her words. He went to put his food down, but Yori put her hand up, telling him to wait.
"I was... 13 when I was given the choice to ascend. I had finally had enough and lashed out. The men who... took me? They... They realized that I was broken. They said I was a feral dog. And you know what happens to feral dogs..."
Putting her fingers to her head, she showed herself getting put down.
"Before I even knew it, the bullet went through my head and they left me to die. And I was, honestly. But then I saw this shimmering figure, wrapped in pure white. It asked me, "If you were given the opportunity to move beyond this mortal form, what would your first action be? But my first thoughts were not about getting vengeance. Instead, It was to save the other girls they had. I wanted to make sure they would no longer be hurt, then I thought about stopping the people who murdered me once and for all."
"And that's when her domain locked in," Shaushka said.
Yori nodded at her friend's words.
"I watched as this black smoke floated out of the figure, moving in a way like it was alive. Then it entered me. It went into my lungs, and I gasped. I was alive! But then I felt the smoke filtering through me, filling me. I changed that night. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't pleasant either. It was like the smoke was replacing my flesh. I could feel myself growing, changing. I felt horns piercing through my skin, my teeth growing. My bones grew thicker, heavier, stronger. I grew stronger. And I cackled with pleasure. That night, 30 children were found alive, all of them under the legal age of consent and 12 of them pregnant, and the bodies of 14 men including 2 politicians were found in a room, all in one mangled heap. Along with the files and information to bring down another forty people prominent figures in Japan at the time."
"Because of her choice," Shaushka added. "She was changed into who she is now. All of us are. We're made into the adults you see before you. Some get older. Others, younger. All of our bodies are made to highlight our domains in some way. The only one of us we have no clue about is Layla. Her domain is frankly unknown. But we can all agree she is actually ASTOUNDINLY powerful to a degree we are unsure of."
"In my case," Yori continues. "It made me 21, gave me a deceptive body and is allowing me to feel like the kid I was denied my whole life. I love playing with the girls and you've honestly become one of my best friends, Brandon. I don't know what I would have done if we were too late."
"I'm glad you did. And I bet Layla feels the same way."
________________________________________________________
"Layla," Mayra sternly spoke to her friend. "Tell me what you mean by "a second time"?"
Layla's tears began to slow as she wiped them away, the roar of the nimbus around them fading as the Gravity Well loosened its hold on them.
"You promise you won't get mad?", Layla asked, defeated. "And promise not to tell the others?"
Mayra parked herself in front of Layla, and rose the horns.
"I promise on the soul of Rock & Roll," she told her front woman, smiling to calm her fears.
"On the soul of Rock & Roll," Layla parroted, raising the horns in kind.
"Layla, what's going on between you and Brandon?"
Layla closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
"He's why I'm in The Ascension Game. In order to get him back, I had to move beyond my mortality to bring him back from the dead."
-
..........
TWIST!
-
By the time Shelly Veston had been escorted back to her home on the outskirts of the city, she knew that she was in big trouble. Not only had The Goddesses somehow beaten the Artificial Men, not only had they gotten to the college in record time, but she failed to do the one thing she was explicitly told she had to do.
And the fact that the stupid little Japanese schoolgirl slut turned into a gigantic ugly beast to not only force the Artificial Woman to give up Brandon before she could order the damn thing to rip his head off, but did it to her bot before she could in some grand twist of irony definitely set in that she was, in a word, promptly FUCKED when her Goddess saw her next time.
"We have arrived, Madame Veston."
Turning her eyes towards the robot at the wheel, Shelly took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. Needing to vent a little, she leaned into the driver side window, reached into the back of the robot's shirt by its neck and pressed a button.
"Digital destruction sequence initiated."
"There," Shelly said, a satisfied smirk on her face. "You go bye bye cause you failed, not me."
As she walked towards her front door, a burst of pink digital light enveloped the car behind her, consuming most of the vehicle and its occupants with a roar before quickly collapsing in on itself. Leaving behind the exhaust pipe, the front axle and front tires to fall onto the pavement with a clatter. Taking another deep breath, Shelly steadied her nerves before walking into her home.
The second her shoe touched the floor, the living room filled with a bright neon pink light. Shelly knew she was in for it.
"YOU FAILED ME, MICHELLE."
Quickly, Shelly went to her knees, begging and pleading.
"Please, my Goddess," she cried. "Please! I didn't know they would get there that quickly! Nor how strong they were! Please, forgive me!"
The Digital Eye that filled the room focused in on Shelly's pathetic supplication. The voice of the Eye sighed, knowing that she would continue to do so even if she were to ignore her wishes.
"Get up," she grumbled, annoyed at Shelly's display.
Quickly hopping to her feet and smoothing out her clothes, Shelly quickly moved towards the Digital Eye with a look of immense relief and happiness.
"Thank you," she chattered. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank y-"
"ENOUGH! Go get changed and something to eat. We must prepare for tomorrow."
Shelly immediately became cowed by the sheer presence her Goddess projected. Bowing her head, she breathed in sharply, knowing that she was still in hot water.
"Yes, my Goddess."
As she ran off to her bedroom, Shelly noticed the woman behind the Eye. Every time she saw her Goddess in the flesh, it took her breath away. "Perfect beyond perfect, the aesthetic made correct", as her Goddess put it. As soon as her bedroom door shut, The Digital Eye turned off, leaving the woman behind the Eye in the living room alone. Turning towards a nearby mirror, she looked at herself in rapt attention.
Wide eyes, incredibly full lips, large and impossibly spherical breasts, a tight and toned body. She knew this is what all those surgeries were leading up to. All those hours being obsessed with her looks. All the people she had used and abused on her climb up the Social Media ladder.
"Waste not, want not, Milla. You didn't want to become a Goddess, but I did! And I'm not going to waste a chance like this! I'm gonna miss you, babe. With you gone, The Little Scarlings are done. But Shelly de Palma is just starting to rise!"
-
SURPRISE! SURPRISE! I'll be updating this story on my ARTsite what for DEVIANTS, so check the GLKing account over there if you don't see something here.
With that said, ON WITH THE SHOW!
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On the street, The Avery seems like an old school style open hall bar with a somewhat rustic Western vibe. With two stages setup for any given show, it was always up to the bands to decide which side they wanted to play on and what time. That way, it was easier for a show to be split up and give the audience more of an opportunity to know who was playing that night. What the mortal populace did NOT know, however, was that The Avery was created by one of the Gods of the Americas, Old Man Coyote, to serve as a neutral battle ground for those in The Ascension Game. His idea was that if you separate the hall between two stages, you could get a proper assessment of whoever won by the size of the audience at each stage.
With that in mind, Coyote made sure that the rules of battle at The Avery are simple: Biggest audience wins. Every person had to be a mortal, so no stand-ins. That element had to be reinforced after a wannabe Death Goddess rose a legion of dead folk to fill up in front of her stage before she went into battle against a young man and his fiddle. Naturally, her plans, just like herself, went up in flames in front of a live audience.
Outside that, bands got unlimited drinks and food, $1000 guarantee plus part of the purse and opportunity to sell merch. Kind of basic, but enough to help bands out when they truly needed it. He may be a trickster, but Coyote cares for touring bands.
It was around 6 P.M. when the rickety and busted van of The Goddesses pulled into the side alley by The Avery. In front of the door were four men in their mid-30's and a group of five young men dressed in street wear passing a pipe between each other along the wall of the opposite building. Quickly pulling into a spot for deliveries and bands, Mayra killed the engine and all six of the competitors hopped out of the van. As soon as the other acts saw them, they quickly made their way over.
"You must be The Goddesses," one of the four men, with blonde hair, thick sideburns and a rich Central English accent, called out while holding his hand for a shake. "I'm Robin!"
Immediately, Layla took hold of his hand, shaking it firmly.
"Layla," she said, before pointing at her band. "And this is our guitarist, Mayra-"
Mighty Mayra saluted with two fingers to her brow.
"Sup?"
"...Keyboards, Shaushka-"
"Pleasure to meet you," she said, giving a little bow as she noted one of the men, which the keyboardist noted was likely the bassist, couldn't take his eyes off her chest.
"...Bassist, Yori-"
The Little Oni quickly took Robin in a big head.
"Hi hi," she cheerily chirped, lifting Robin off the ground entirely and making his eyes go wide with the ease she did it with.
"YORI," Shaushka chided her, "PUT HIM DOWN!"
With a look of embarrassment, the Japanese girl did as instructed.
"Sorry! I get carried away sometimes!"
Robin began to straighten his clothes, chuckling.
"'S alright," he said. "You're just eager, is all!"
Yori giggled, charmed by his rakish smile. Layla just rolled her eyes and continued on.
"...Our drummer, Alm-"
Without giving the buff frontwoman a chance to finish, Alma approached one of the band, a dark haired man with a light beard, and began to rub her hands on his chest. Purring as she eyed him up like a piece of meat.
"I'm Alma," she told him. "What's your name, wolf boy?"
"Carey," he said in a Liverpool accent, taking her hand. "I'm on guitar."
"Ooooh," she said, pressing herself against him. "So you DO know how to use your instrument!"
"Alma," Mayra called out. "Down, girl! Save it for AFTER the show!"
Gently pushing him away, she kissed the air in Carey's direction before turning and sauntering back to her band, making sure her prey's eyes were on her ass as she did.
"And finally," Layla said, giving Alma the stink eye. "We've got our... roadie, Brandon."
Quickly moving over to make this less awkward, their Acolyte shook everyone's hands with a "hello/how are you" that seemed polite but was really done to just hurry things along.
"Since we're doing intros," Robin said, jabbing his thumb at his band. "That's Carey, tall fellow's Mitch, and the burly boy's Sam.'
"And I take it the group over there's Garou-"
As soon as Layla looked over, she noticed that Alma had already made a move on the boys from Canada, who were eating right out of her hand with all the attention they were giving her.
"ALMA," Shaushka shouted, storming over there to retrieve their drummer, to the humiliation of the others.
"She's a wild cat," Sam said, a clear Scottish accent in his voice.
"You don't know the half of it," Brandon said, carrying a box of merch as he walked by.
"So I take it everyone's here?", Mayra asked Robin, to which the British man shook his head.
"Only one act left to show," he said. "That Shelly de Palma bird. I honestly don't know why a Barbie like that girl is playing with us, really."
"Neither do we," Yori said, carrying a full stack speaker by herself as she strolled by.
"Do you need a hand?", the lanky Mitch offered, to which Yori just shook her head.
"I got it," she shouted to him as she walked inside.
"Anyway," Carey said, shaking his head at how strange this night was turning out to be so far. "It sounds like you know this Ms. de Palma."
"She was part of a local Pop Punk band called The Little Scarlings," Shauska said, carrying her gear.
"Emphasis on was," Mayra stopped and added, an amp in one hand and Alma tucked under her other. "We recently played their last show before their lead singer died of Cancer."
"That's awful to hear," Robin said. "And now she's gone full blown Pop?"
"Apparently," Layla said, carrying both guitars and a heavy bag around her neck as she strolled by.
For the next minute, all nine men in the alley just watched as the ladies finished bringing their equipment into The Avery with ease. Making the men feel tired from just watching them. Noticing the looks on their faces, Brandon picked up the last box of merch, closing the rear door of the van and walking over to them, put his hand on Robin's shoulder.
"You think this is something," he said. "Wait till you see them play!"
Readjusting his grip on the box, the band's Acolyte continued to walk back inside. Leaving every man in the alleyway wondering what the Hell they just signed themselves up for tonight.
-
Once Brandon got to the Merch table, he put the bin of shirts on the ground and stretched his back. Thinking to himself that if this was a common thing for bands, he might just get as buff as one of the girls over time.
"Guess getting girly means something else with them," he laughed to himself.
"BRANDON!"
Turning his head towards the bar, he saw the girls getting friendly with an older gentleman. His hair long and grey, though he still retained a youthful appearance, dressed in some casual frontier style wear down to his old fashioned cowboy boots. At his side, Layla and Yori were waving him over. Rolling his shoulder to loosen up, he walked over to the crowd, noticing that everyone, including Mayra, were excited to be talking to the man in the middle of them all.
"Brandon," Layla said, looking like she couldn't contain herself. "We have a special guest tonight!"
Reaching his hand out, Brandon nodded his head towards the unknown gentleman. But as he did, something inside told him to keep his eyes locked on the man for some reason. The older gentleman's grip was strong, as a mischievous smile grew. Brandon could tell that there was something to this guy, but he didn't know what.
"This is your Acolyte," he asked the girls, his voice distant and lonely like a howl in the night. "You chose very well! He is... canny!"
"I'm sorry," Brandon said, loosening his grip by instinct. "Who might you be, sir?"
"Brandon," Mayra said, sounding like he said something wrong. "This is the OWNER of The Avery."
"It's fine," the man said, letting go of his hand. "A name is a name. Some have one. Others, many. I am lucky to have as many as I do..."
Realization dawned on Brandon at that moment, remembering a poem he had read not too long ago when the Mythology Course with Dr. Armasella began.
I am He Who Is Many/My names proliferate across the lands of man/I am Teacher/I am Fool/I am Subject/I am Lesson/I am that which you will learn as time goes on/I am Mischief/I am Terror/I am...
"You are Coyote," Brandon said, unable to hold it in any longer. "Holy shit! THE OLD MAN COYOTE?"
The old man put up his hands, shushing him as quickly as he could.
"In this place, I'm THE Avery, alright?"
Blushing, Brandon just nodded his head and shut his mouth, trying not to get overly excited.
"If you don't mind me asking," Brandon said, getting closer so he could be clearer while also growing quieter. "What are you doing here, sir?"
Coyote chuckled at the young man's innocence and respectability.
"You're not like most white men," he said, motioning to the bartender. "You know of respect and what that word means."
Reaching over, Coyote produced the drink he ordered for Brandon.
"Is that a-"
"A Gimlet," Coyote told him with a smile. "You're favorite, right? You're these beautiful ladies' Acolyte, so you get what they get."
Brandon quickly took the drink from the Old Man with a quick "thank you", knowing he shouldn't turn down a god's gift. But one sip, and he noticed something unusual.
His drink was good. REALLY good. Perfectly balanced, the gin was solid while the lime juice added a freshness to the overall taste as the sweetener undercut the citric nature interwoven into the somewhat milky looking concoction. As delightful as it is simple, the flavors played perfectly on his tongue in ways he could describe, but always found would escape him outside of-
"WOW," Brandon said, smiling like a fool as he sipped on his glass.
"I didn't know you liked the fancy stuff," Layla said, lightly pushing him.
"I like beer," he told her, lifting his glass. "But everyone has an indulgence."
"Everyone does," Coyote added. "And it's my job to know what those are. Which is why I'm the judge for the Challenge tonight."
"That's why we're here tonight!" Shaushka said, exciting the others.
"One of your places of power," Alma said, her eyes tracking Carey up on stage as he began to do setup for the show.
Mayra knew what was going to happen if she didn't keep her eyes on their drummer, stepping into her line of sight.
"Down, girl. You saw his ring."
"Just because he's married," Alma tittered. "Doesn't mean he's a one woman Alpha, Mayra."
"You know Alphas are loyal," the giant guitarist retorted, turning her attention back towards their host.
"Guess no mischief there tonight," Coyote sighed. "You Earth Goddesses know how to squash anything before it happens, don't you?"
"Part of the territory," Mayra told him.
Brandon tilted his head, curious about the conversation.
"Wait," he said, putting his glass on the bar. "Earth Goddess?"
Mayra smiled as she flexed her arm.
"Hell yeah," she said, giving her arm several slow pumps. "Specifically, a Molten Goddess."
"Like volcanoes and earthquakes?", Brandon asked, getting excited once more. Mayra just nodded her head.
"You never figured that out?"
Shaking his head, Brandon just looked at the band with a newfound interest.
"Only one I know of is Yori being a Goddess Of Judgment," he said.
"JUSTICE and Judgment," Yori said. "I just want to put that in the right order. Otherwise, I'd just be a judgmental bully, and you know how I feel about bullies."
Pointing her thumb down the line, Mayra quickly went down the line.
"Yori's a goddess of JUSTICE and Judgment," she began. "Shaushka's a goddess of life and knowledge, Alma's an animalistic goddess of the hunt, I'm an Earth goddess. And Layla's... Well, we're not sure."
Coyote's eyes grew wide as he turned towards the frontwoman.
"What?", he asked. "How can you not know what you're a goddess of, yet? That's in defiance of the Orders Of Ascension?"
"Orders of Ascension?", Brandon asked.
"The rules governing all potential gods or goddesses," Shaushka quickly told him. "Basically, Ten Commandments for godhood."
"Oversimplifying," Coyote said, annoyance in his voice. "But the fact of the matter remains! How can you be in the Ascension Game without knowing what your domains are? I should disqualify you on the spot!"
As Brandon watched Coyote laying into the face of The Goddesses, he saw Layla's bravado slowly begin to ebb. Like the light within her was beginning to dim, a star flickering in the night sky. It was like everything was in slow motion as the other girls began to argue on Layla's behalf as the badass girl he had feelings for was starting to look like she was slipping into a repentant form of despair. Thinking on his feet, Brandon came to an idea in Layla's defense.
"Do the Orders Of Ascension STATE she has to know what she represents?"
Everyone turned towards him, with Coyote fiercely staring him down.
"I'm sorry," he said. "What was the question?"
"The Orders Of Ascension," Brandon reiterated. "Do they SAY a god or goddess HAS to know their domain IMMEDIATELY?"
Catching everyone off guard, every divine being in the bar gave each other awkward looks. Gauging each other as if the others might possibly know the answer. Throwing her hands up, Shaushka quickly reached into her pocket.
"Gimme a second," she told everyone. Quickly tapping on her phone, she dove into her folders, pulling up a PDF on a reader app. Swiping up and down, she began to mumble as she read the document before a huge smile broke out on her face.
"NO," she proudly exclaimed. "Article 23 of the Orders Of Ascension states, AND I QUOTE! 'In the case of Questing Ascenders, the lack of knowledge about their domains shall never be held against them, as the Quest itself is a divine form of reflection and enlightenment THROUGH WHICH all trials, conflicts AND DIVINE CHALLENGES may help said Questing Deities by right of Mythic Lore Development'! End quote!"
"So wait," Layla said, seeming to get the light back in herself. "Would that technically mean that I'm a Questing Ascender?"
"Seems like it," Brandon said, rushing in to hug the buff frontwoman tightly.
"And that means you jumped the gun," Yori said, poking Coyote slightly until she remembered who she was talking to. "Um, I mean, you acted a little hasty, sir."
Scratching his head, Coyote took a deep breath and sighed, knowing the pint sized bassist was right.
"You got me there," he said, turning to Layla with her arm wrapped around Brandon's waist. "I'm sorry, Layla. It was a bit presumptuous of me to want to disqualify you unnecessarily."
Sticking his hand out, Layla could tell the Old Man was just trying to act responsibly. Letting his time in the game cloud his judgment a bit. Reaching out, Layla grabbed his hand, yanking the god to join her and her Acolyte in a hug.
"It's okay," she told him. "I know how much you care about the game, Old Man. You were just trying to protect the sanctity of the game."
"For my part," Brandon added. "I've only been hugged by goddesses and robots that strangled more than actually hugged me. So this is a bit different."
Coyote couldn't help but laugh at Brandon's comment, noting how strange the boy really was. Yet also noticing that the boy in question had something truly different than any other Acolyte he had seen yet. Patting the boy's back, he looked at the entrance and saw an old familiar face make their way into his place of power. As soon as he saw them, he knew only one thing.
If that was who he THOUGHT it was, things were about to get very, VERY interesting tonight...
-
Another great episode
-
The house was packed when Robin Of Locksley started the show on stage two. An incredibly solid 90's Rock influenced act, they played through a one hour set of solid rock bangers, from the Merry Men opener that introduced each member of the band, to the raucous Phillip Of Nottingham, to the ballad Marian and the crowd pleasing Bullseye. From start to finish, an incredibly fun themed band that hid far more skill and panache than most would assume of the four men. You could even see that Old Man had a huge smile on his face as he pumped up the crowd a bit more as he MC'd the show by getting one more round of applause for the boys from Britain. As soon as the crowd died down a little bit, Layla, Mayra and the others quickly moved on stage to help the band break down their gear.
"You guys were AWESOME," Layla cheered, taking Robin into a tight, enthusiastic hug.
"Thanks," Robin replied, quickly disentangling from her powerful arms before getting to work putting his guitar away. "Honestly, there's just something about tonight that feels... magical. I think that might be why I'm just so in tune right now, you know? Like something big's gonna happen."
Layla and Mayra quickly shot each other a look, each getting a distinct feeling from his words. Like how something someone says offhandedly is sometimes more prophecy than happenstance.
"You don't say...," Mayra chimed in, quickly helping Casey prep his stack before easily picking it up with one hand and walking away.
"Holy shit," Casey gasped, watching the titanic guitarist walking with his amp and monitor like the combo weighed nothing at all, quickly stowing his guitar and scrambling to keep step behind her as Brandon watched everyone from Stage Right. Meanwhile, Alma and Yori were making quick work of breaking down Sam's drumkit in record time, leaving the burly drummer nothing to do, though he was clearly enjoying their presence all the same. And in a surprising twist, normally reserved Shaushka was standing by Mitch, each having a huge smile on their face as they seemed to be hitting it off while the gangly bassist slowly got everything ready to be put in the Green Room. As the boy's gear was finally taken offstage, the girls moved quickly to get everything ready for setup as Garou Inc. finished theirs.
"Brandon," Layla shouted out. "Can you get us some drinks? I don't want to miss Garou Inc.'s set!"
Shouting a quick "Can do!", Brandon quickly ran out from backstage, hopping down to the floor before working his way towards the bar.
"Two pitchers of Dragon's Blood and a cola for The Goddesses," Brandon told the bartender, who gave him a slight nod before getting his order. Suddenly, a voice he recognized to his right caught his attention.
"I see you didn't really take my advice, did you?"
Looking over, he saw the older lady who was working the merch table the night he met the girls standing next to him. Same blue hair, same thin and wiry build. Same hard to define presence that gave off an air of... importance? Maybe respectability? He wasn't sure how to put it into words. He immediately tried to recall her name.
"You're, uh... Emily-"
"Emmy," she corrected him as a bartender handed her a drink. "Nothing like a good Gimlet!
"I like those, too!", Brandon said, smiling.
"I know," she replied, giving him a knowing smile. "So, how's life with the girls treating you?"
"Not bad," he said, nodding his head from side to side. "Some shit's happened, both good and bad. But it's been... kind of amazing, to put it lightly."
Emmy gave him another knowing smile before taking a sip of her drink.
"You don't know the half of it, Brandon."
Brandon looked at Emmy, a worried look on his face.
"I never told you my name," he said, a slight rivulet of fear worming its way up his spine and into his head.
"Second act's about to begin," Emmy told him, pointing at Stage One. "You should hurry back to the girls before the show starts."
Brandon turned his head, looking at where the girls were setting up.
"What's your deal-"
Before he knew it, she was gone. Replaced by a large bearded guy pounding his drink.
"My deal?", the man asked, defensively. "I'm just here to have a good time!"
"I'm sorry," Brandon quickly said, apologetically. "I was talking to a lady that was standing right here."
"No you weren't," the man laughed. "I've been sitting here the whole time!"
Before Brandon had a moment to think, the bartender slid a tray with the drinks and glasses in front of him.
"For The Goddesses," he said, before walking off.
Quickly apologizing once more, Brandon grabbed the tray and hurried to the stage as the girls finished their setup for their set.
-
This is a great story. I’m waiting for the next installment.
-
It's not fairly fitting to post a YouTube link here.
I'll just leave this link here, I think it seems fairly fitting!
-
In true fashion of a great live show at a smaller venue, the mix of genres can be more of a draw than one thinks. With some cheesy thunderstorm sounds leading into wolf howls, the initial opening for Garou Inc. did not seem like it was going to be much. But then, with a deep reverberation and powerful bass, the beat kicked up and the audience came alive. And with shock and awe, the five man hip hop act from Quebec took control of their mics and as one pack, kicked their set into high gear.
Starting on the right foot with the song "Alpha", the track was perfectly synced to highlight every single rapper's individual style and flow. From the dominating presence of the handsome Taljean who had an emblazoned tattoo of a wolf as it came from over his shoulder and down his arm in a half sleeve, to the tall and lanky Lean and the werewolf hoodie he wore that showed off his slow and sweeping rhythm. From the short and mighty Ohm's punchy delivery to the dignified and intricate pattern of DeShawn Da Don, to the amazing speed and delivery of Max Pain. And for the next forty five minutes, the Wolf Pack of Garou Inc. dominated Stage One with a set of heavy impacts, incredible backing tracks by their producer and live DJ, Pistolero, as well as incredible stage presence that had the audience eating out of the palm of their hands. They had even invited Robin Of Locksley onto the stage for the encore, giving everybody a unique treat as the two acts freestyled together, mixing their sounds for a song and bringing the house down as the crowd chanted the names of both acts as Old Man Coyote took to the stage once more.
"GAROU INC.!" he cheered, gesturing towards the rappers to let the audience cheer for them once more before raising his arms to get them to settle down so he could continue.
"Now, a special announcement! We have a special surprise for everyone tonight! Now, I'm not gonna tell you what it is, just yet. But in honor of what it is, I want you all to know that because of how phenomenal all you lovely people are tonight, starting NOW, all drinks and food orders are HALF OFF!"
The crowd roared in jubilation as they began to disperse. As the girls quickly hurried back to Stage Two to finish tuning up for their set, Brandon scuttled through the crowd towards the front of Stage One where Coyote stood watching his customers.
"Wouldn't half off all orders be better at the start of the night?", he asked the god as he oversaw his bar, only to see Coyote give him a knowing smile.
"Which is a better position," Coyote replied. "A man who knows he's getting a good deal? Or a man who knows a deal is too good to be true?"
"The guy who knows it's too good to be true," Brandon immediately retorted. "That way, you can avoid it."
Coyote spryly hopped down from the stage, patting Brandon on the shoulder as he stood up.
"It's the same with gods," he said, looking the Acolyte in the eye. "Walk with me, kid. This is just between you and me, so no one will hear us."
Coyote began to move through the crowd with unnatural ease. Trying to keep up, Brandon kept having to start and stop with every passing customer as the Trickster God began to gather together empty cups and dishes and more from random tables.
"These people don't know there's an Ascension Battle tonight. And when it comes to divine matters, it's probably best if these people experience it but don't remember too much about it. There's a way the divine just... messes with regular mortals, son. Most gods know that, so they create a trapping or seeming."
"Like The Goddesses," Brandon found himself unknowingly saying, making Coyote smile and nod.
"Just like The Goddesses. What you see is their seeming. But their real selves? That's a little much for most to take. And in this battle, the girls might just slip their seeming for the REAL battle that's going to happen."
"Real battle?"
Stopping where he was, the god of the desert wind turned and looked Brandon dead in the eye. Brandon could see within his irises something stirring. The blustering of sand caught in the breeze. Deep within his pupils, he could see a little cyclone begin to form, glowing brighter as they soon took on the obvious form of the eyes of a beast. The eyes of a coyote, glowing in the moonlight, sending a little shiver down his spine.
"You didn't think they'd just be playing music," Coyote continued. "Did you? Whoever wins takes another step towards Ascension. And whoever loses..."
"They get erased from reality entirely," Brandon answered, grimly remembering the stakes he was told when he first became an Acolyte. Coyote's gaze flicked downward as he slowly nodded once more.
"So it might be best you spend time with the girls," he told Brandon, slapping him on the arm. "Otherwise, you might regret someone who never even existed in the first place. I like you, son. And that's a more harrowing Hell than I want you to ever experience."
Coyote quickly left Brandon there on the floor by Stage Two, leaving him in silence to contemplate what the stakes truly were. As he looked up at the girls, he couldn't help but smile a mournful smile. If the girls lost tonight, they would all be erased from reality. As he considered Coyote's words, it slowly dawned on him that Coyote actually told him a lot. Would he be the only one who remembered them? Everything he had gone through, every message, every moment with them? The way he felt about Layla? The kiss? EVERYTHING would be erased from existence. As he watched them tuning their instruments, he watched the way they got to business. Gave each other words of support and comfort. Gave each other some input about which string seemed out of tune or balancing levels for each other's amps and monitors. The smiles on their faces like it was just another gig and not a literal fight for their own existence.
He made up his mind right then and there. If this was the night he was going to say goodbye to the girls, then he would do it without any regrets. Looking at Layla, he knew the words he wanted to say. He hurried towards the green room, down the service hall past the fuses and storage. Running past the boys in Garou Inc. standing in the hall with a polite but curt "Sorry" as he shimmied past them. Rounding the corner just in time to run into someone standing in the middle of the hallway.
"My bad," Brandon told the man. "But I need to-"
As he looked at the face of the man he ran into, his stomach dropped as he immediately turned to flee. Barely getting out a quick "FUCK!" before being grabbed by several hands and dragged back towards where he was originally headed.
_______________________________________________________________________
With a triple kick and hitting the cymbals, the girls began their show. Everyone quickly gathered in front of Stage 2 as the girls unleashed a sonic wall that cascaded over the audience, filling the air with electrified excitement as everyone in the bar was entranced by the show. With a quick flex as the other girls continued the coursing tide of the blistering wail, Layla stepped up to the mic.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she shouted at the audience as they pressed in closer to the stage. "Welcome to Avery's! And tonight, you will see a show like no other! For we are The Goddesses! And we want you to-"
As soon as she raised her arms, the girls cut off their sonic assault. But as soon as they stopped, a frightened voice cut through the silence.
"LAYLA!!!"
Turning towards Stage 1, Layla's eyes went wide as she saw Brandon, surrounded by several Artificial Men as they had him in their clutches. All but the three holding their Acolyte raised their fists as Shelly Veston walked into view from behind them. Circling the uncanny foot soldiers before standing in front of Brandon. And with a smirk, she raised both fists into the air.
"ALL HAIL," she chanted before clapping her hands twice. Her minions did the same, clapping their hands and stomping their feet twice before raising their fists again.
"ALL HAIL!"
Digital notes began to play as a glowing pink Cybernetic Eye appeared, hovering over the stage before disappearing and reappearing with every repeat of the Artificial Men's chant. Growing brighter and strong until after the seventh repetition, the eye stayed in sight before a laser light shot down from its pupil, building the filled in outline of a curvy figure as it traced its way up. Until, having used up the last of its light, it vanished as the outline exploded in a burst of light, leaving behind Shelly De Palma in all her artificial glory, decked out in a pink latex catsuit with six inch stiletto boots. Her heavily surgically altered face decked out with pink lipstick that accentuated her DSL's, pink eyeshadow over incredibly large doe eyes that looked like they were more fitting for an anime character and long white hair that shimmered and glowed like strands of actual platinum that flowed down to her ridiculously inflated backside.
"No fucking way," Mayra uttered, saying what she knew all the other girls were thinking.
"SHELLY SENT THE CHALLENGE?!", Yori shouted.
"Layla," Shaushka shouted at her bandmate. "What are we going to do?"
But Layla had no answer, struck indecisive as her panic over Brandon being in the clutches of the ones who nearly killed him before left her frozen in fear.
"Layla," Alma shouted. "You're the leader here! Tell us what to do!"
"I don't know," Layla said, her heart and mind racing a thousand miles and hour in different direction. "I don't know! I don't know, I don't know! I DON'T-"
As she begin to go into an anxiety induced tailspin, she heard Brandon's voice once again.
"LAYLA! DON'T GIVE UP! YOU GOTTA WIN! I NEED TO TELL YOU THAT I-"
Quickly slapping him into silence, Shelly Veston turned towards Stage 2 as the crowd began to filter itself. An unknowable force seeming to pull the audience apart as if in a daze until exactly half of the total capacity of the venue stood before each act.
"Dear audience," Old Man Coyote gleefully announced over the sound system. "I promised a surprise earlier tonight, and I like to keep my promises! Because tonight, for the first time in over FORTY YEARS! We have an honest to Gods and Goddesses ASCENSION BATTLE!"
The venue erupted in cheers as they learned they would be part of what would probably be a Once In A Lifetime event: a real, high stakes Battle Of The Bands between two sets of Divine Acts for their entertainment.
"On Stage One! Formerly the Bassist for The Little Scarlings, she's going SOLO! The Goddess Of The Artificial! The Artificial Queen! Shelly De Palma!"
The crowd in front of Stage One roared at her name, chanting "All Hail" in unison despite never uttering the phrase before in their lives as Shelly turned towards the girls with a knowing and evil smile on her face.
"And on Stage Two! The Powerhouse Pantheon! The Disparate Divinities united as one! Alma! Shaushka! Yori! Mayra! And Layla! THE GODDESSES!"
Despite their half of the audience cheering them on, the girls stood dumbstruck. Looking between each other as Layla just stared at the Artificial Men as they put themselves around Brandon once more. All the while, Shelly Veston just mockingly pouted and glumly waved farewell to her.
"No..."
Mayra turned towards Layla, not sure what she was saying.
"No?"
Giving herself a moment to think about it, a sudden revelation struck her.
"Guys?" Yori called out to her bandmates, seeing what Mayra was noticing, as well. The way the air was shimmering around her. The heaviness that seemed to get stronger and stronger. The way her clothes seemed to be getting tighter on her frame.
"Not again," Layla said, louder through gritted teeth as tears began to flow.
"Holy shit," Alma said, realizing that she was seeing a side of her frontwoman she had never seen before. A side that NONE of them except Yori had ever seen before. For she had seen it back when they had saved Brandon the other day. She knew this pressure, this presence, this power.
Layla Di Scalzi was, once again, put into a place of absolute fury. And as her rage began to build, Shelly De Palma began to laugh.
"All according to plan," she thought to herself as she lifted her hand. Cuing the music and getting the Ascension Battle under way.
-
Can’t wait till next chapter
-
As a lightshow began and the bass started thumping, the audience became more enamored as the Plastic Diva commanded the venue. But as the beats pounded out in an entrancing tone and the rest of The Goddesses argued about what to do, Yori's ears were turned towards the battle, listening to the song Shelly was performing. And as soon as the main chord progressions started to play, stark realization struck her.
"That's our song," she screamed. "SHE'S PLAYING ONE OF OUR SONGS!"
Sharing quick looks between each other, the others stopped their freak out to listen to what Yori was screaming about.
I am your Goddess, baby
I need your supplication
"NO FUCKING WAY," Shaushka shouted, joining everyone else at the front of the stage as the audience in front of Stage One slowly started filtering to Shelly's side.
I am your source of pleasure
On all occasions
"It's slightly rewritten," Mayra said, pushing her sunglasses up. "But it's definitely Worship Me!"
Never mind what they are gonna say
I know that you want to please me
In every way
"Puta's getting the claws," Alma said, throwing her hand down and letting her feral side show.
WORSHIP ME
Cause you know you want to
WORSHIP ME
Cause it's the best thing for you
"You're the frontwoman," Yori shouted, placing her hand on Layla's shoulder. "Tell us what... to do..."
The five ladies on Stage One watched as the room seemed to shimmer, then suddenly grow larger as a haze covered the venue. The distance between the stages became an expanse, enlarging into a field which was completely covered with scores of Artificial Men at the Plastic Diva's command, larger and more powerful looking than what they had faced before. The viewers of the show pushed to the sides as giant Hellenistic Pillars arose out of the floor, lining the boundaries upon which they all realized the battle truly lay. And at the far end stood a robotic looking woman, bordering between full automaton meant for war and sex doll, standing several feet taller than normal. And as she cackled in a digital glee, in her grip rested Brandon. Their Acolyte held hostage in the mechanized monstrosity's hand.
Shelly De Palma, for all her wants, could not hide her true self as she let her seeming slip. Revealing her godly form to all in attendance.
"Wow," Shaushka said, looking like she had just smelled a rancid fart. "THAT is her divine form?"
"It looks like something a perverted otaku would create," Yori said, trying to stifle a laugh and failing.
"You gotta hand it to her," Mayra said, slinging her guitar in front of her. "She knows what she wants to look like."
Alma hissed and growled, letting herself feel the feral side of her essence.
"PUTA!"
Walking up to her band mate, Shaushka gently put her hand on the buff punk's shoulder and looked her in the eye.
"Layla! We need you to make a decision! What are we gonna do?"
As she looked over the field, the head of the pantheon of ladies looked over at Shelly as the Artificial Queen held the man she loved, the man she sacrificed her mortality for, in her hand. She could feel the hammering in her chest, hear the pounding in her ears. She took a deep breath and realized that NOW was the moment. No more holding back.
"If it's a war she wants," Layla said, swinging her guitar to the ready position. "Then that's what she's gonna fucking get!"
With that, Layla began to strum the first chords, fast and loud as the other girls got into position.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," Layla screamed into the mic as The Goddesses blared out their opening salvo of sonic fury. "TONIGHT, YOU'RE HERE TO BE PART OF A BATTLE FOR THE AGES! THE ASCENSION GAME HAS BEGUN! THE ARTIFICIAL VERSUS THE REAL! WE ARE THE SOUND! WE ARE THE FURY! WE ARE THE GODDESSES!"
As The Goddesses' opening cut short, the music from Stage Two stopped as well as everyone turned their attention towards Stage One. Layla, however, kept her eyes glued down field. Glaring at Shelly's Divine Form with utter malice, she took a deep breath.
"NOW GIVE ME BACK MY ACOLYTE, YOU BITCH!"
With that, Layla picked up the pace on the guitar as all five ladies in the band let their Divine forms slip. Leaping into the fray as their mortal forms were left behind as they played Muscle Machine.
Shelly De Palma grew frightened at the collective power each of the women exhibited in their Divine Forms. From the light and wind of the Fertile Crescent that comprised to the gigantic monstrous power of Yori's Oni form. From the ferocious and feral Panther goddess that Alma had become, to the awe-inspiring tectonic like flow of magma and stone that Mountainous Mayra had taken on. All four would have been enough to scare the Artificial Queen. But it was when she saw Layla di Scalzi, the powerhouse punk frontwoman of The Goddesses smashing first into the fray, she grew truly terrified. For unlike the others, she was nothing but a gigantic outline, undefined but far more frightening than the rest. For within her outline was fury and strength, a chaotic storm the likes of which she had never seen before. A storm that was now proceeding to tear through her forces, uninhibited by the constraints of either mortality or concern,
But what no one else had noticed was that Old Man Coyote, having joined the sidelines to watch the battle, was nearly shitting his pants at the level of power Layla was displaying. For he knew the EXACT path Layla was meant to be on.
"Holy shit," he whispered to himself before running to his office, terrified beyond all measure. All he knew was that he had to let The Divine Council know. Quickly ripping out his cellphone, he slammed the door closed so he could notify the people who oversaw The Ascension Game. He had to warn them.
A new Creation God had just been revealed. And she was one of an absolutely terrifying magnitude that hadn't been seen since Yahweh had arrived.
-
So, just a heads up.
Both this and Your House are currently having installments being worked on. Expect them within a week or so.
-
Interesting. Hope ther are large doors in them.
-
Outside of Avery's Bar, a crowd had begun to gather at the beginning of the night. Live music, the eternal boon of The Muses, had always been a well from which a whirlpool would grow and pull more in. And tonight, like other nights in Old Man Coyote's bar, was no exception. But as the night wore on, the crowd only grew while eldritch energies echoed out across the city as the fervor of the concert-going converts fueled its expanse. The kinetic potential building as the old god had to constantly tap into it to allow more room. Sales climbing higher and higher as the need for more drinks and food swelled with each wave of new attendees. None but the proprietor truly noticing as space warped around them all in preparation for the final set of the night: an Ascension Battle between the two headliners of the night.
One, a former Pop Punk beauty who had gone beyond the Natural to fully embrace the Artificial as a Synthetic Pop Queen.
The other, a group of ladies who no one really had much accounting of, playing their second show ever. Five women who had been reborn in Sound and Fury as a high energy Punk Rock quintet.
And caught in-between the two of them, a simple college kid who Coyote couldn't help but notice seemed a little too keyed in to what was happening around him. Eliciting such an intense reaction from the Punk Rock Goddesses that he knew went beyond the common boundary of Acolyte and Divinity.
And then there was the matter of Layla Di Scalzi, lead singer of The Goddesses. A strong and physically imposing being corporeally, but her true power lay hidden under bravado and buffness. That of a chaotic storm the likes of which hadn't been seen in millennia, since the last Creator God had appeared whose strength founded more than one religion under many names. A fact that frightened every other pantheon since. A fact that forebode a terrible outcome if allowed to go unchecked.
Which was why Coyote was in his office, practically pissing himself as he sent out word of what was going down in his venue while the overwhelming power on display started to overcharge and warp the very establishment struggling to contain their power. Begging for any and every god, both ancient and nascent who was available, to come and protect the world from a potential cataclysm and bear witness. Cause if there's one thing Coyote hated more than anything, it was to be called a liar instead of a trickster.
"That's right," he said to whoever was on the other end of the line as he glanced through his blinds. "We got us an honest to us Creator Goddess, fronting a fucking PUNK ROCK band of all acts! As Ngai can tell you, you can feel her band's shit from fucking Kenya! So stop stalling and pop your ass inside Avery's!"
As he hung up the phone, he couldn't believe it. Out of all the venues, why did HIS have to be the one to show off a fucking Creator? But one look at her bandmates as they tore through the proxies that their duel partner was throwing at them, and he knew there was more to it than just Layla's sheer power. It was all of them. All five of the girls in the band represented some facet of a fully functioning pantheon. Usually, it would take several acts forming under one label for that to happen. Keyword being "USUALLY". But he noted that outside of a water deity in their number, The Goddesses had somehow formed one right under everyone's noses. This included the gods who were able to keep track of everything under the sun.
"What's so special about these five?" Coyote asked himself as he took one step out of his office, only to duck to avoid an Artificial Man's debris as it crashed right where his head was. Falling to the floor in a clatter as the trickster began to glide his way through the crowd like the desert breeze towards a front row seat to take in the battle.
Upon the field, the destroyed fake men and women Shelly de Palma would summon kept vanishing before reappearing in front of her stage in full double armed salute and rushing towards The Goddesses once more. Only to be met with redoubled power as the five took to the fight like an ethereal storm.
From above, Shaushka flew like a beam of light, stopping to occasionally unleash brilliant blasts of golden rays down upon the hapless minions of the Artificial Queen's forces as Alma, in full Animal Goddess mode, leapt from spot to spot. Swiping and striking in full Jaguar fury as she used her raw strength and ferocity to shred each of Shelly's soldiers like they were pieces of paper. Her yowls and roars echoing across the shifting spaces of the bar, as if they were cheers and cries of joyful bloodlust reverberating across a sonic infused jungle.
Further forward, Yori had charged towards the stage only to be met by the digital summoning of several Artificial Women. Each taller than the one she had fought before, more well constructed. She knew they were meant for her, a lesson the Oni knew she'd have to face eventually due to her decision to reveal her divine aspect early. But this was a different situation. While she had shown her pure might, this was a time to not be taken lightly. Holding her hands out in front of herself, a pool of shadows and blood hovered in the air before a giant spiked club wrapped in the leathers of human flesh and bone slowly slid out and into her grip. Clutching her kanabo by the handle, she wrung her hands like she was holding a baseball bat as a sinister smile came to her face.
"Now this is something I've been looking forward to!" she shouted before reeling back and taking a swing at the closest robot. Not giving it any time to process what was happening as the club connected upside its head. Obliterating it as the bassist shifted her stance, following through as the giant Artificial Woman beside the headless one was struck with a loud scream of bending metal as it crumpled to one side and into its fellow automatons. Causing the fourteen foot tall demonic goddess to laugh in devilish glee as she continued to swing wildly, knocking her foes back and forth like mere playthings.
Meanwhile, the gigantic volcanic being that comprised of Mayra's seeming calmly marched forward as droves upon droves of Artificial Men tried to assail her. The logic of sheer numbers giving each slight satisfaction before each one that touched her quickly began to smoke and flame from the sheer heat she constantly radiated. Synthetic skin and cloth and plastic vaporizing into smoke as every one of Shelly's forces instantly melted upon touching the guitarists geothermic form. Her stone-like skin unblemished as she brushed a glowing hand through the brush and bushes that comprised her hair as her magma orange-red eyes remained locked on Stage One.
But if there was one person that The Artificial Queen was focused on this night, the one that worried her the most until the battle, the one that frightened her the most. If there was one entity she realized was the one she did not want to get involved in an Ascension Battle with, it was the chaotic storm walking towards her that bore the name of Layla di Scalzi.
And it was Layla di Scalzi that she had knowingly made the angriest. For this was the night where her fucking around had inadvertently caused everyone to find out what kind of goddess they were truly dealing with as none of her Artificial Men or Women were able to get close enough to the rampaging goddess before being completely obliterated into nothingness as her bandmates waged war around her.
"SHELLY!" Layla coldly called out, her rage ringing across every song and sound that filled the venue with unnatural clarity. "TAKE YOUR HAND OFF OF MY ACOLYTE!"
The divine automatics of her celestial processors could not handle the way everything seemed to bend around the walking outline of prismatic chaotic gravity and energy swirling beneath the surface of Layla's seeming, leaving her bandmates and those that did not come for her untouched by reflex. Every inch of the venue's floors and walls trembled as the air grew electrified by her presence, as if eager to continue changing to grant her more room. The audience becoming energized with every step as what seemed like an unstoppable force stalked her way across the field. Drawing closer and closer as Shelly summoned more and more minions, throwing them with care or caution towards Layla, only to watch the continuous cascade of robotic servants vanish into nothingness as they were crushed beneath the weight of the frontwoman's slow moving assault.
"You want your dumb boytoy?" The Artificial Queen shouted, raising her hands in the air as little points of light appeared in the palms of three of them. "Then kneel before your queen, you roided out punk bitch!"
Brandon could only call out Layla's name as three beams of what could only be described as ethereal digital energy fired upon the frontwoman, barely crossing her arms in front of herself as she began to be pushed back. The worry and anxiety burning a hole in his stomach as he felt The Little Scarlings' former bassist's hand suddenly jerk, and with a pop detach from her arm as he floated in the air above her head while another one quickly digitized in its place and fired a fourth beam at her nemesis this night.
"Shaushka!" Layla called out, catching the attention of her keyboardist. "Can you- NGH! Can you do anything about this damn light show of hers?"
Concentrating for a second, the goddess of Life focused as her hands glowed brighter and brighter before swiping at the air and sending a volley of illuminated arrows scattering across the field. Striking several of Shelly's minions in an impressive display of technique and accuracy before flying to Layla's side.
"Sure," she said, anxious to get this whole show over with. "But I gotta ask, what's with the whole swirling nebulous thing?"
The two watched as the bitch on Stage One caused her four hands to detach, hovering behind her as another four appeared on her wrists and fired at the pair. Shaushka barely rolling out of the way while Layla, trapped in the struggle, could do nothing and be pushed backwards again as all eight streams were focused in on her.
"Don't know! Now, can you please figure out how I can fucking get CLOSER?!"
"What's the matter?" Shelly taunted, making the hand holding Brandon squeeze slightly, causing his current hypersensitivity to respond to the increasing pressure with a scream. "Can't fight back against some little old lasers, you crusty cunt gutter punk pump slut?"
A flare of colors swirled and filled Layla's outline as the anger within her swelled.
"The only "cunt" here is between your legs when I get over there and punt you into the next fucking state, you self-centered bimbo sellout!"
Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead as something rocketed towards the stage. Everyone barely had any time to properly react as Yori, in full Oni fury and glee, divebombed Stage One at high velocity, swinging her morbid kanabo downward at Shelly's head.
"BASS BATTLE!"
Shelly's form flickered and faded into a strobing 3d projection as the spiked club swung right through and into the stage as The Artificial Queen reformed a few steps away.
"I think you missed, you Gravure goof!"
But Yori took it all in stride, smiling as she reached over and grabbed the hand that Shelly foolishly left behind in order to avoid the blow.
"I wasn't aiming for you!" the Japanese goddess crowed, crushing the fingers that were wrapped around Brandon in one go. Causing him to fall into her arm as she hopped backwards. Making Shelly try to make a move, only to find the ground beneath her feet glowing white hot and smoking before a giant molten hand broke through and grabbed The Artificial Queen.
"I WAS!" Mayra shouted, causing a wall of volcanic stone to rise in front of Layla. Granting her a reprieve as the pair bumped fists.
"We need everyone working together," Shaushka shouted as Alma and Yori landed at their sides. As she kneeled down, Yori let Brandon slip from her arm and into Layla's. The pair laughing in joy as they embraced. "Because I think the venue's at capacity!"
"Why do you think that?" Brandon asked, scoping out the forms of the girls in sheer awe.
"Look at the ceiling!" Alma told them, pointing up as everyone watched the boundary of reality becoming tenuous as the physical slowly started to fade into a cosmic neoscape of brilliant stars and coronas of nebulae forming and fading into existence.
"This means the battle's almost over!" Mayra said, looking worried.
"There's a TIME LIMIT?!" Layla shouted, twisting her head back and forth. "No one said anything about a TIME LIMIT!"
The sound of Shelly screaming in absolute rage caught their attention, peeking around the sides of their cover to see the magma hand holding her explode violently as her body began to shift and change. Transforming into something more vicious as her body opened up and slid around. Extra arms sliding into place as her face began to reshape into something more robotic and larger.
"I take back my earlier snark," Yori said. "If I had any pee, this is where I'd wee a little."
Mayra put her hand on Layla's shoulder, looking to her for guidance.
"You're the frontwoman," she told her. "What do you think we should do?"
Layla looked at her bandmates. At Shaushka with her hands clasped together, as if in prayer. At Yori, who kept glancing to the side at Stage One. At Alma, taking the time to lick the back of her hand and clean herself. At Mayra, imploring her for a response. She didn't know what to do. Then she felt someone grabbing her hand. Looking down as Brandon gave her a warm smile. A smile she had hoped to see again. A smile she did not want to lose, ever again.
"You got this, Layla!"
Nodding her head, she looked at her bandmates once more.
"Here's what we're going to do..."
-
(https://thumbs4.imagebam.com/59/86/b5/MEAY3G6_t.jpg) (https://www.imagebam.com/view/MEAY3G6)
So, uh... SURPRISE! I commissioned Angs The Wicked to draw a pic of the Human form of Yori "Little Oni" Onizuka, the J-Pop Punk bassist and literal hulking oni goddess of Death And Justice!
Wish I could afford more, but at least I could afford something, right? Maybe next time, I might get art of Mighty Mayra or Alma.
And don't worry! I am working on the next installment! It's just currently on the backburner while I work on installments for Your House and The Sandow Family, as well as a new idea for a short story involving a college girl and the the Goddess Of Mass that's possessing her (think Venom, if Venom was actually a somewhat hedonistic, musclebound giant goddess that only she can interact with and wants her host to live a little).
-
So, just a heads up.
GETTING WITH THE GODDESSES - Next day or two.
Break For The Rest Of June - I have a deadline for a Horror Anthology Submission I wanna meet and I really need to focus on it.
LIFTED BY LOVE - Early July (second week at the latest).
CASSIE AND MASSIVA - Second or third week of July.
POSSIBLE CONTINUATION OF ABANDONED STORY - Not sure which one yet. But it might require working with mods to create a new thread for it (which I do apologize for, but I need to make sure people can find it and thus start from scratch with it).
VERITY - Switching to more of a "when the mood strikes me" type of thing, I WILL keep making short tales until I feel ready to continue writing THE LAND DEAL. That one's hanging like an open wound.
OTHER THINGS - Thinking about starting a Co hyphen Fee for anyone who wants to support my works without obligation to creating a Pay-Tree-Awn, as I absolutely wish to get more artwork of my stories. And more artwork means I hire artists, which means more material. And I know everyone likes to see some artwork (for example, the docket includes Mayra, Verity, Brandy "Blockbuster" Bustmante and Alma as "in planning").
Barely getting by on $2k/year isn't making things easy, that's for damn sure...
Anyway, felt you all deserved an update.
-
As she felt her body shifting and changing, Shelly couldn't help but cackle in ecstatic electronic autotuned joy as her aggression rebuilt her form. Every inch of her chassis expanding with whirs and clicks and the sound of interlocking robotic internal structures enhancing every single panel and oscillation junction that materialized from nothingness as she continued to grow. Arms popping out of place and relocating as four sections along her back opened up to allow new limbs to extract and lock below the four she initially created. Uncanny human features giving way to more autonomous details as she let her femininity be replaced with imposing dominance as her eyes glowed brighter and brighter. Her height creeping up into the ethereal essence that threatened to consume the battlefield and surrounding venue below it all.
"Are you sure about this?" Shaushka asked Layla, her glowing worried face turned towards The Goddess Of Artificiality as she loomed ever larger and larger.
"It has to," their frontwoman told her as she looked at her bandmates before gazing at Brandon. "Otherwise, the show ends here for us."
Layla placed her massive hand on Brandon's face, stroking his cheek as he took a deep breath and gave her the horns.
"And I don't know about you, but I wanna remind Shelly just who in the fuck she's dealing with!"
"You heard her!" Mayra shouted, raising her fist for a bump. "Let's bring the noise, ladies!"
The Goddesses and their Acolyte raised their fists and brought them together. Smiles on each of their faces as they brought them together. Knowing that win or lose, they would be there till the end. Brandon looked up at Layla's massive, chaotic storm with a determination
"Let's remind Shelly what happens when you fuck with the wrong gods!"
As The Artificial Queen reached higher and higher, her fingers skimming the starlit pool above her head as it rippled like water, she knew she was almost there. All she had to do was run the clock out, and she'd be victorious. A new level of status. A new level of fame. A new level of attention. Her mind drifted back to when she had watched her lifelong friend Milla being approached by a shimmering feminine figure appearing from nothing inside her friend's bedroom two weeks before her final performance, and three weeks before her death. How the being offered her the chance to live on, to be given a purpose in a new life. To become more than she was before. To become an actual god.
And Milla... turned it down. Saying she'd rather "live and die on the terms of her own making than be given something that could take it all away so easily". And before the being could disappear, Shelly jumped at the opportunity, claiming Milla's offer for herself. The being placing her hand over Shelly's eye as a brilliant pink light exploded out of it. Her senses cascading ever outward as she suddenly felt every electronic device within five miles cry out her name in jubilation as they sensed her new existence. Every cellphone, every lightbulb, every computer, every car. If it was powered by the electric euphoria coursing through every city, it was calling her name.
"We hear you," they cried out. "And we kneel to you. Hail to our Goddess! Hail to our Artificial Queen!"
And in another flash of bright pink light, she felt her feet touching the ground. The sound of her eyelids opening and closing with a slight whir not passing her notice as she grew accustomed to her new state of existence. Everything seemed to be singing to her, begging for her attention. The electric euphoria coursing around her, on her, in her. Smiling madly at the realization that everything she truly wanted was just within her reach. But when she turned to look at her best friend, the girl she had known since 1st Grade, had spent her life with, cried with, fought with and worked so hard to build The Little Scarlings into what they had become, all she saw was hurt and disappointment. She knew that to Milla, what really happened was one thing they had promised each other they would never do. Something they saw had destroyed so many friendships, so many brother-and-sisterhoods, so many bands.
By jumping at the opportunity, Shelly had betrayed Milla. A wound so grievous that Milla immediately asked for Shelly to leave. A wound that severed their communication up until the concert. And a wound that grew fatal a week later when Milla told her family to refuse Shelly's involvement with her funeral, refusing to even see her for an apology. The isolation and severance from whom Shelly thought was her only sister in the world causing the last bits of her humanity to be buried with her frontwoman and friend.
It suddenly struck Shelly just how odd it was that her mind was drifting back to Milla, who had passed away a week or two ago. Time had become somewhat nebulous and foggy, but that singular moment, inside her best friend's bedroom, stuck out to her. She had to abandon her old life, that was what the entity told her. She had kept her old name, but nothing else remained the same. Very few remembered her being in The Little Scarlings, a handful that grew smaller with every single day as new memories overwrote the old. But for her, Milla remained eternal. A small ember that refused to die inside of her, causing her to feel a pang of guilt, of loss and more. And now, on the threshold of victory, it had kindled into a flame of something she thought she'd no longer have to face: regret.
"I wish you were here, Milla." she thought to herself, smiling forlornly up at the prismatic vision of heavenly embodiment.
"Shelly!"
Turning her eyes towards the battlefield, she saw the Acolyte of those Punk Rock upstart sluts that stole the show at Milla's farewell concert. As soon as she saw them, she knew what they were. How they overshadowed practically everyone at the show. How they had found their Acolyte almost immediately. The fact things went so smoothly for them. Her stomach turning sour as she turned away from the threshold, bending down to glare at Brandon. Determination on his face as she crouched down like a robotic dragon on all eight hands, unflinching as she drew closer to him.
"I see you found your spine, little man! Especially after what my Artificial Men did to you a few days ago!"
"I'm not scared of you!" Brandon shot back, trying his best to retain his nerve.
"You shouldn't," the Artificial Queen replied, snidely. "Well, I mean, you should! But not right now. You stepped onto the battlefield, Brandon."
Taking a quick look around, Brandon slowly returned his gaze to the goddess. Slightly confused by what she meant.
"And why does that matter?"
"The rules state that if an Acolyte actively participates in the Ascension Game, they cannot be directly harmed by the gods involved. But there is a loophole-"
Brandon could feel something punching into his lower back, followed by the sensation of wildfire crawling up his spine. Before he could turn his head, he heard a slightly satisfied cackle before he felt a hand on his chin.
"You see," the Artificial Queen's Acolyte and Brandon's classmate, Shelly Veston, giddily told him. "Acolytes can challenge other Acolytes."
Stumbling to the side for a couple steps, Brandon slipped from Shelly's grip as he numbly reached for the piece of metal she had stabbed him with. Gently pulling on it, he could feel it slowly sliding out of him. The blood from his wound pouring down his legs as he realized that Shelly had stabbed him right in the kidney. As he dropped the bloody metal scrap, he turned to face her once more. But he was caught unprepared as she rushed forward and another piercing sensation struck him. Looking down, he saw she had skewered him once more in his upper abdomen. The mousey Acolyte stepping away with a proudly psychotic look as Brandon pulled that out with tremoring hands. His puncture mark seeping not only blood, but a yellowish liquid, as well. Bile stinging his wound as he suddenly dropped to his knees.
But much to their surprise, he did not cry or beg. Doubling over in laughter as he pressed his hand to his gut. Shelly and her Acolyte looking at each other with concern as Brandon cackled with a manic glee.
"You're laughing?" Shelly De Palma demanded, picking him up and making him face her. "You're going to die, and you're LAUGHING about it?"
"Y-You don't-," he said as he stared her in the eyes, coughing and wincing. "You don't GET IT, do you?"
Her eyes narrowed as she tightened her grip on him. Squeezing him tightly to the point of nearly crushing him.
"Get what, you pitiful mortal?"
Brandon closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Forcing himself to calm down before smiling and looking over his shoulder.
"I'm the distraction."
Looking above, The Artificial Queen grew fearful as she watched the heavenly pool that lay overhead began to ripple and grow violent as a sudden wind appeared out of nowhere. Watching as it began to flow away from the ceiling and towards something else.
Or more importantly, towards someONE else.
"No!" she screamed as she looked behind the man in her grip to watch as Layla Di Scalzi, frontwoman of The Goddesses and nascent goddess of creation, stood fully braced where she was while the ethereal starfield drifted towards her chaotic storm. Caught in a gravitational field of her own making as it bled into her being and began to mix with the energies within.
"Let's go!" Layla screamed, calling her bandmates into action as the four ladies leapt into the fray once more.
Shaushka flew first into the fight, aimed like a laser as she slammed into The Artificial Queen's face. Causing Shelly to rear back from the impact in time for Yori to appear from behind her, the Black Torii closing quickly as she swung her iron club into the back of Shelly's head before slipping into the Black Torii once more and continuing her assault as she went for her robotic legs. Buckling the Mechanical Mistress's knees to allow Alma enough space to pounce onto her back, yowling ferociously as her claws swiftly began to tear away at the panels upon which her arms were attached. Shelly cried out, for while being unable to feel any pain, she could still feel her body being torn apart as the Feral Goddess continued her onslaught. The energy needed to control her limbs fading as they went slack, causing Brandon to fall from her grip and onto her Acolyte. His deadweight hitting her without care and crumpling her to the floor, causing her head to bounce upon the floor heavily and knock her unconscious.
"Get off me!" Shelly cried out, what few limbs that still worked turning around and swiping at both the goddess on her back and beneath her feet. Activating protocols as her extra arms proceeded to pop open, allowing two chainsaw like blades per arm to appear as they begun to spin like rotor blades while her legs opened up to reveal saw blades. Whirring to live as Yori went in for another swing, too committed to the blow to stop as sparks flew from where metal met metal. Black blood splattering on the ground as her arm was savagely cut before she hopped backwards.
"FUCK!" she shouted, hand pressed to her wound as she looked up at Shelly's back. "Be careful, Alma! These things are fucking sharp!"
"I-NGH! I KNOW!" Alma screamed back, trying her best to avoid the blades as she put her agility to the test. Leaping here and there to avoid becoming minced cat food as sparks showered around her from narrow-margin collisions. Landing on her hands and feet and looking up in time to see one of the whirring death fans making a line in for her. She knew she wasn't fast enough to move out of the way, her feline eyes going wide as her pupils narrowed into little slits as panic shot right through her. Not noticing a beam of light heading straight for her outside of her periphery as it barreled into her, lifting her up as it carried her out from beneath the oncoming storm of blades as an intense shower of sparks exploded where she stood while she and Shaushka crashed to the floor of the battlefield.
"You good?" the Arabic goddess asked her friend, quickly clambering to her feet as the jaguar drummer quickly pat herself down to find she was still in one piece.
"Y-Yeah," she muttered, glad to still be alive as she held out her hand. "Thanks! My ass was almost Meow Mix back there!"
Pulling her friend to her feet with a smile, Shaushka couldn't help but notice that for the first time in forever, Alma really seemed to be excited about something other than playing the drums. But then she saw her sniffing the air, and her eyes grow worried.
"What's wrong?"
"I smell the presence of Cizin!"
"Who's Cizin?"
"The Stinking One," was all Alma told her, her face scarily serious as her yellow eyes seemed to glow before breaking into a sprint. Forcing Shaushka to take flight in order to keep up.
The duo hurried alongside Shelly's massive mechanical embodiment as parts of her digitized and rebuilt themselves as Mayra burst through the floor fist first. Striking the Artificial Queen with such impact that parts of her face crumpled on contact with Mayra's volcanic limb. Bits of lava and superheated materials raining down around them as they circled around towards the front. And suddenly freezing in place as they witnessed Shelly's Acolyte slowly reaching over to grab something on the ground while just outside the barriers of the battlefield, a small gathering of death gods stood. Each watching with great interest as Shelly slowly lifted up a piece of scrap metal, ritualistically holding it with an unhinged smile. And in front was an insanely happy man, dancing and clapping his hands as a cigarette hung from his lips and a necklace of disembodied dangled around his neck by their nerve cords.
Shaushka screamed "NO!" as a beam of light instinctively fired from her hands, striking the metal and superheating it. Sizzling brightly as Shelly screamed in pain, dropping the scrap in terror as she fell backwards to skitter away from Brandon's motionless body.
"Can you heal him?" Alma begged of her friend, quickly placing herself between her Acolyte and both his attacker and the gods of death that hovered nearby.
"I don't know!" Shaushka screamed, trembling and unsure what the rules were for moments in a battle like this.
"He's in the fight!" Cizin taunted, dancing and laughing as he sung. "He's in the fight! Live or die, he's in the fight!"
"Back off," Alma snarled, hissing and baring her fangs at the Mayan god. "He's OURS, you opportunistic parasite!"
But the foul god just continued laughing and dancing idiotically, annoying the pair as Shelly and Mayra traded blows that shook the entire venue. The Mighty One doing all she could to buy Layla time to take in the pool of Celestial Essence that flowed overhead.
"Layla," Mayra shouted between strikes to her face that caused debris to rain down around the battlefield. "I- AGH! I need you to hurry- GHN! We're running out of time!"
The mohawked storm shuffled her stance, replanting her feet as she forced herself to pull in more of the heavenly lake.
"I'm trying to pull it in as fast as I can!" she shouted back, struggling to maintain the pace.
"NOT THE POOL! IT'S BRAN-"
Caught off-guard, a series of mechanical fists consecutively appeared in a cascade of blows, battering Mayra left and right with machine gun precision before her massive, unconscious form fell to the floor in an avalanche of stone and dirt.
"You ruined the surprise!" Shelly mockingly pouted, leaning over as she tapped Mayra's stony face.
Layla's form went lax, feeling for Brandon's faint essence in the room. Feeling it starting to grow weaker and weaker as Alma hissed and threatened the vultures of divine doom that hovered nearby while Shaushka wept. Unable to do anything by the rules of the battle. Mighty Mayra, the woman she had grown closest to, lay on the broken floor beneath her impossible weight. While on the other side of the field, Yori was doing her best to try and take down The Artificial Queens' legs. Getting torn up with each attack as Shelly continued to heal herself as fast as possible to minimize or negate the damage being done.
The memories of her parents, of her sister, of her so-called friends, of the bullies and everything else that brought her low her entire life roared back from the recesses of her mind. And suddenly, she felt she was once again her old sense. Her weak self. Her powerless self. Her lonely self.
The sudden chill of fading hope clawed its way into her heart, causing the chaotic story within her to grow quiet as the winds settled down and gave up pulling in the goal of the battle.
"We're gonna lose..."
"I don't think so."
The sound of his voice caused her to turn, suddenly finding herself as she once was before godhood was given to her by the blue entity. Staring down at herself to see she was dressed in jeans, long sleeved shirt and the oversized jacket she always wore to hide the scars on her arms in the park on a bright spring day. THE bright spring day. The one she will always remember.
And looking up, there he was. The boy who had given her a small bit of hope, shrouded in the daylight beyond the shade of the tree she normally sat beneath. Almost angelic as he smiled warmly back at her.
"Brandon?" she asked, her voice trembling as she rushed to hold him in her arms. Embracing her with incredible care as she shook against him. Tears flowing down her cheeks, unable to act strong any longer.
"It's me," he told her as he rubbed her back, letting her sob into his shoulder. "I'm right here."
- - - - - - - -
"We're losing him!" Shaushka shouted, applying pressure to Brandon's wounds as she cradled him in her arms.
"Stay the fuck away from our Acolyte," Alma screamed, her visage growing more bestial as she charged the barrier where the death gods stood. Slowly growing more and more interested in how the battle was turning out.
"There hasn't been a mortal death in one of these in four hundred years!" a South West Asian woman in a dark blue dress proclaimed, excited by the turn of events.
"He's not yours for the taking, Allani!" Shaushka fired back, venom in her voice. Causing the woman watching this all go down to smile with surprise.
"You know of me, little Seedling?"
"I do! For mine is that which sprouts in the sun and grows with the shade! And you cannot have Brandon!"
A shorter, older man with dark skin and a shaved head pushed his way between his associate gods, visibly taking on the air of a stern parent.
"You have to let him go, child. He is dying."
Alma rushed the barrier once more, colliding with a loud impact before swiping at it with an impressive display of sparks.
"Like Hell we will, Eleggua!"
As the fight for Brandon's life continued on one side, Yori once more struck out at Shelly's legs, falling into a berserker trance as she swung wildly. Blue smoke exuding from her mouth and ears and nose as her form slowly grew more monstrous. Her eyes going blood red as her mouth full of fangs began to drip a black ichor. Screaming and howling with rage as her blood splattered everywhere. Sparks flying with every blow as hit, after hit, after hit, after hit after magnificent hit finally found there mark. The sawblades in The Artificial Queen's legs slowing more and more until, with one last swing, the morbid kanabo in her hands finally proved too much and sent her lower leg across the floor with a skidding clatter. Causing Shelly to cry out as she lost balance and was driven down upon the stump that remained. Wires sparking madly as she turned back towards the Oni goddess with absolute fury in her eyes.
"You bitch!"
With incredible speed, Yori found herself being lifted into the air as a disembodied hand digitized into existence behind her. Clenched tightly in its fist as she was carried to the middle of the field. She bit down, savagely tearing off pieces of its fingers before suddenly feeling its grip strengthen magnificently. With a loud "GYAAAHN!!!", the Oni's bones cracked severely. Blood dripping down below as she suddenly grew still, yet still breathing. Causing Alma to stop her bickering and posturing to turn just in time to watch Shelly's hand rear back.
"Look out!" the jaguar drummer goddess shouted, leaping over her friend and their downed acolyte as Yori's limp form was hurled at her fellow goddesses. The Oni's magnificent mass colliding with Alma's lithe animalistic seeming, taking her along for a ride as the two of them slammed into the barrier. Alma crying out in pain as she slung one arm over her friend's prone body and the other across her ribs.
- - - - - - - -
"How are we here?" Are you-?"
"I am," he whispered. "And we're still on the battlefield, Layla."
She pressed her face into his neck, giving him a light kiss. Fighting against every instinct to let go.
"Diana," she sobbed. "My name's actually Diana. Diana Avallone."
Gently pushing her away, she saw his form growing a bit brighter. Causing her to become more panicked at his departure. Smiling warmly as he became subtly hazier.
"Layla or Diana, you're still the badass that I know and love. And you have a fight to win. So bring the house down, okay?"
"Don't go!" she screamed, reaching out for him. The light growing brighter and blinding as he vanished from view.
"I won't if you win. And to sweeten the deal, I'll take you on a date, okay?"
- - - - - - - -
As she watched Shelly once more reach towards the stars, diving her hands into the celestial pool as it began to flow into The Artificial Queen, Shaushka was at a loss what to do. Mayra was unconscious at Shelly's feet, Yori was unresponsive, Alma was in severe pain, and she could feel her Acolyte's inner light slowly dimming dangerously close to being snuffed out completely. And despite it all, Layla was sight unseen, doing nothing to help. All the rage and frustration and loss she was surrounded by, building up within her, begging to be released. Her body glowing brighter and brighter, shifting into a more brilliant and purer color as she fought her fears for an answer. Thinking of something, anything that would work, But over and over, coming to one conclusion
And in one ecstatic burst of white light, Shaushka screamed.
"LAYLA!!!"
And there was a brief lull in the fight. Still and calm as nothing moved beyond the goddess in absolute bliss while she slowly absorbed the prize of the battle.
And then, with the sound of a strumming guitar that kicked up the energy with an incredible surge of excitement, the wind picked up once more.
An intense vacuum pulling anything it wanted towards Stage 02 as the Golden Goddess heard the sounds of heavy footsteps running her way. Shaushka turned her head in time to watch her frontwoman, her outline partially filled with the Heavenly essence as it sparkled radiantly within her, rushing towards Shelly De Palma. Her form quickly growing larger and larger with every step, her build matching with equal strength as the gigantic goddess swung at Shelly's head. The Artificial Queen having no time to dodge as a shockwave rocked Avery's from top to bottom, cantilevering from a blow she was clearly unable to take.
But Layla refused to let her fall, grabbing Shelly's head as she proceeded to pummel it with a fury unlike anything The Goddess Of Artificiality had ever experienced.
"Nuh uh, bitch! You're not getting off that easily!"
"And you need to realize," Shelly said, a smile crawling across her robotic face as she stared Layla right in the eye. "That the prize is MINE and MINE ALONE!"
A glow from behind Shelly's back drew Layla's attention. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, the Chaotic Storm felt a chill running through her core as several arms slowly emerged from her back. Each split open with several lens running the entire length of each limb, ominously growing brighter and brighter as they looked in place in an corona formation. Moving to let go of Shelly's head, she was instead surprised by The Artificial Queen's hand grabbing onto hers. Holding her in place as Shelly's eyes lit up with bright pink energy.
"And for the record? PUNK'S DEAD, YOU DUMB FUCKING BITCH!"
Things slowed down for Layla. Out of every lens, a brilliant pink beam fired upon her. Even from Shelly's eyes as she gave the frontwoman a manic smile, taking great pleasure in what she was about to do. Her mind drifted over to Brandon, laying on the floor as his life slowly drained from his wounds. She couldn't save him like she wanted. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep her side of the promise. And the fear that she would never see him again clawed its way into her mind. So she closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable.
And waited.
And when the inevitable didn't come, she opened her eyes to find Shaushka in the way. Every source of light curving inward and directly at her, into her. Her body trembling as she took the full brunt of Shelly's assault.
"CAN'T... HOLD ON... MUCH LONGER!"
"Shaushka," Layla cried out. "NO! This will kill you!"
"I HAVE TO!" Shaushka shouted back, her body glowing brighter and brighter the longer she protected her frontwoman.
"If you die," Shelly blithely commented, leaning into the attack. "Then that's one less god that'll be in the way!"
The second the words left her mouth, Shelly suddenly felt something grabbing her leg. As the beams from her eyes quickly ceased firing, she turned her head to find the annoying blue worm that had been striking at her legs had come back for more. Gripping tightly as she could hear the beast growling.
"Get off me!" she shouted, disengaging two of her arms to take care of Yori's new onslaught. But upon firing on the Little Oni, The Artificial Queen's eyes went wide as Yori was not only unaffected by the attack, but was seemingly REVELING in it. Laughing demonically as her body slowly started to grow bigger. Muscle packing on top of muscle as her form shifted and grew. Smoke pouring from her mouth as she slowly, methodically pushed herself to her limit. And with great strain, succeeding as Shelly found herself slowly lifting off the ground against her will.
"END THIS!!!" Yori screamed, her voice both gutteral and beastly, as well as what the band knew was her normal timbre.
Locking eyes with her bassist, Layla nodded her head in time to see Mayra's glowing hands come up from below. One swiping at the wall of lasers with a loud clatter as her superheated hand struck them with enough force to instantly shatter the lenses and send them to the ground while the other wrapped around Shelly's waist to aid Yori's struggle.
"Take her up!" Mayra grunted, burning brightly as Yori slowly grew to hip-level.
On reflex, Layla's internal storm picked up steam. Funneling her full fury inward, visible waves of energy pulsing out of her. Debris slowly rose into the air as gravity's strength began to wane in reverence to The Chaotic Storm's will. Bulk and weight meaning less and less as one of the strongest forces in the universe slowly dropped to zero. Alma, as the most earthbound of all the band, could only hold onto her Acolyte as they both began to lift off the floor. Wrapping one arm around his body and sinking her free claw into the floor to hold on for dear life.
The Artificial Queen struggled to break free, swinging at both Mayra and Yori as she could feel the ground drifting further and further away beneath her feet.
"Let me go! How dare you defy me? Let me GO!"
The feeling of Layla's hand on her throat made her cease fighting as she could feel the Punk Goddess's grip tightening fiercely. The unimaginable rage she could feel emanating from within the Chaotic Storm with every pulse that came out quicker than the last. Despair rising within herself as she felt herself slowly drifting higher and higher towards the celestial pool. Realizing with abject horror where Layla was taking her.
"YOU CAN'T! IT'S THE PRIZE, NOT THE FIELD! WE CAN'T FIGHT THERE!"
But as Layla just stared at Shelly's frightened face, she knew that Layla was beyond the point of caring as the storm within her shifted and faded into a violent and malevolent haze of red.
"YOU AND YOUR ACOLYTE HURT BRANDON! AND FOR TOUCHING HIM, YOU ARE MINE!"
Shelly's ear-splitting screams of terror echoed across the hall as Layla dragged her into the liquid divine, cutting off her pleas as gravity returned to normal. Dropping everything and everyone that was unable to escape its effects to the floor haphazardly. Shaking the entirety of Avery's with the sheer weight of both Mayra and Yori alone enough to cause severe damage. As everyone recovered their bearings, slowly returning to a more realistic size, The Goddesses slowly gathered next to Alma, cradling their Acolyte's body.
"Please," Alma begged Old Man Coyote as he walked over to their side of the barrier. "I can feel his embers fading! He will die if we don't do something!"
"I'm sorry," he told her, reaching down to brush the boy's hair. "Unless there's a victor, there's nothing we can-"
The sound of something falling to the ground startled them all, flinching as they turned to watch metallic debris raining down from the celestial pool above. Hands and limbs falling with such intensity into the floor, kicking up dust and pulverized wood into the air, shrouding the field in a cloying mix of brown and grey dust.
"Holy shit!" Mayra muttered, pointing into the cloud around them as a shimmering figure slowly revealed itself. As it floated towards them, its massively muscular form filled with starlit and cosmic wonder, it held a small, pink orb that dripped a bright pink fluid down its hand. The dust settling as the band recognized the mohawk on top of the figure's head.
"We won," Layla told Coyote with an ice cold determination. "Now let us save our Acolyte."
Tossing the orb towards the ancient trickster god, he fumbled catching it for a scant second before realizing what he was holding.
"You ripped out her EYE?" he asked, incredulously as Shaushka quickly flew by to get to work.
"Yeah," Layla replied, slowly floating past him. "She had her eye on us, so I figured it was only fair I get to keep it."
Her mind unable to process anything Coyote was saying as she went by, Layla's eyes stayed glued on Brandon. She could feel his heartbeat slowly ebbing towards stillness, growing more and more faint as Shaushka laid her hands on him. The scent of spices and fruits and baked bread filling the air as tears streamed down her face.
"It's not working!" she cried, on the verge of hysterics. "Why isn't it WORKING?!"
The sounds of Cizin's laughter grew louder, more joyous as he danced more fervently.
"Too late! Too late! Life is gone, Death awaits!" he sang, over and over as he took on his seeming. Flesh rotting, muscles twisting until all that was left was a horrific mockery of the dead dancing before them all. The audience around him gasping and inching away from him as his every motion caused blood and gore to be flung in many droplets around him. His necklace of eyeballs in full display as it dangled around his neck.
"You're wrong," Layla told him, her eyes piercing through his bravado and causing him to misstep and stumble to a halt. "The purpose of gods is not to obey the natural order, but to ensure it works accordingly."
Barely giving her bandmates a chance to think about what she said, Layla clamped her hand onto Shaushka's shoulder. The golden goddess rearing back with a gasp as celestial essence seeped from her frontwoman's hand and into her being. And at once, she felt the cosmos opening up to her. Filling her with more energy than she had ever felt before. Her hands trembling as they were drawn towards her Acolyte, lying at death's door, and glowing with Heavenly starlight, acted as a conduit for that very same energy into him. His back arching as he greedily gasped for air, limbs flailing as his eyes filled with the celestial essence before blinking and returning to their normal colors.
"No fucking way!" Alma purred, moving in to wrap an arm around her Acolyte while cradling her ribs. Swiftly being joined by Shaushka and Yori, who lifted all three of them off of the ground as Alma growled in pain while the oni hopped with joy.
"You're okay!" Yori shouted ecstatically. "You're okay! You're okay! You're okay!"
Alma quickly turned her head and nipped as Yori's arm, trying to get her attention with each bite. A difficult job, given how thick Yori's oni hide was. But she paid heed to her friend and settled down, gently lowering them to the floor.
"Sorry! Sorry! Got carried away! Shaushka? Can you, y'know...?"
Wiggling her thick fingers as if casting a spell, Shaushka sighed and rolled her eyes. And leaving Brandon alone for now, placed her hands on her bandmates to begin their healing. Letting him turn towards Layla and Mayra, standing by as they shot each other a knowing look.
"I'm sorry," he told them. "I know I was meant to be a distraction and everything, but I didn't know about the rule involving Acolytes. And how I nearly died a second time, which is something I don't think I'll ever get used to. But I'll try not to-"
Layla rushed forward, wrapping her arms around the man she sacrificed her humanity for and leaning in for a kiss. Leaning down as her starlit storm towered over him, greater mass dominating the field of view as she held him close to her. Her outline trembling as all her emotions washed over her, only to give way to gratefulness. Thanking her stars that she was just in time to prevent losing him again.
"If it means keeping you by my side," she whispered, lovingly putting her forehead against his. "Then I will take on any Heaven or Hell to get you back, Brandon. I swear to you on the soul of Rock & Roll."
"On the soul of Rock & Roll..." Brandon parroted, smiling as he went back in for another kiss. But the pair were pulled away as the sound of rustling metal from where the debris fell drew everyone's attention. The girls getting ready as Layla pushed Brandon behind her.
"Stay behind me!" Layla told him, bracing for the fight to continue. But thoroughly shocked to find Shelly De Palma, missing all of her surgical alterations and an eye, crawling out from within her own gigantic robotic head. Bloodied, broken and pathetically clinging to her beliefs.
"I... I won," she stammered, slumping to the ground in a heap as she slipped from the empty eye socket. "I won! Give me back... Gimme back m-my prize, damn you!"
As she slowly pulled herself towards The Goddesses, they could see her legs useless and making things more difficult. The bones popped out of the skin as they twisted and moved at odd angles over the wreckage and detritus on the field. Tears pouring down her face as she angrily dragged herself forward and reached out towards Layla's leg.
"I won! I got to The Ascension Gate first, damn you! I won! I WON!!!"
"SILENCE!" Old Man Coyote loudly barked, a blistering desert wind picking up and battering everyone inside the bar as his voice echoed off every wall and ceiling inside the place. Giving everyone a moment to settle before he continued.
"You did NOT win, Shelly De Palma! Both you AND Layla made it beyond the Gate! That is TRUE! But you were not allowed to STAY there by sheer reason of Layla overpowering you! By overpowering you, she has proven that more people were drawn to HER STAGE than yours! And now you act like a petulant child? That may be how an Olympian acts, but this is a Temple Of Coyote! And I do not tolerate such pettiness, child! You LOST! And now you face what all gods fear!"
Shelly's face went white as a sheet at those last words. Now forced to deal with the consequences of the duel.
"Please," Shelly begged, dragging herself to beg at Coyote's feet as quick as she could. "I don't want to die! I don't want to disappear! You can't just-"
Her words died in her throat as she saw a little light at the tip of her finger suddenly start to glow, and then feel herself slowly start to atomize as it slowly moved down her hand. Her other fingers following suit as absolute terror gripped her heart.
"It's the way of the world," Coyote told her as he stepped away. "Some things stay and other things? Well, they just fade away and get forgotten."
"No! You can't do this to me!"
As The Goddesses and their Acolyte stood by and watched, Shelly De Palma felt her essence unwinding from her body and disappear into nothingness as she screamed and cried. Reaching out with limbless arms as the light crept along her capitulating body while every ounce of her corpus was burned into ash-like particles of light that slowly lifted heavenward and vanished into the ether. Every ounce of bemoaning and begging falling on deaf ears as the girls witnessed in rapt horror her fate. Shaushka and Alma looking towards the others to gauge their reactions, finding the only other one disturbed by what was happening to her was their own Acolyte. But even he was resigned to acceptance as The Artificial Queen's voice went silent as the light traveled up her neck, and with a single tear rolling down her cheek, accepted the consequences of her actions and closed her eyes. And with that acceptance, in a silent burst, she was gone. Shelly De Palma was no more.
"It's so strange," Brandon exclaimed, struggling to find the right words. "Seeing someone just... disappearing like that?"
"It was her own fault," Mayra said, grimly. "She came after us, challenging us to a battle. When she could have just participated one of the Divine Festivals and not gotten herself killed like that."
All the other girls agreed, nodding their heads solemnly at the thought. But like a lot of things in Brandon's life, it took him a second to realize what Mayra had just said.
"Wait a minute! She didn't have to die?!"
"More like unmade from existence..." Yori interjected, rolling her hands.
"What I think Mayra's saying," Shaushka loudly stated, making her way back to Stage 02. "Is that this was her own hubris at play. She targeted us, chose to try and remove us completely, and was foisted by her own petard. Simple as that!"
As the other girls moved their way back to the stage their mortal forms were at, Brandon felt Layla's powerful hand on his shoulder. Rubbing it comfortingly as she helped guide him along as the battlefield slowly started to collapse back into normal space. Debris and damage slowly being folded upon and disappearing as the bar's inner dimensions shifted back into more manageable proportions. Climbing onstage once more, The Goddesses moved into their positions, readying themselves for when they would regain their mortal forms. But as space warped and contracted around them, Shaushka realized something very crucial.
"Layla! The prize! You haven't shared it with us yet!"
The Chaotic Storm's eyes went wide as she remembered she hadn't done that yet, pulling her mohawk in embarrassment.
"Fuck! Sorry! Everybody in!"
Huddling around her, Brandon watched the girls linking hands and closing their eyes as the starlit essence within Layla's divine form began to flow once more. Quickly wreathing up the arms of each member of the band as the essence began to steepen and filter through them before moving on until, mere seconds before reality went back to normal, their bodies were each as infused with celestial essence as Layla's was. And breaking off from each other, went back to their positions as the haze was lifted, the barriers disappeared and with a subtle pop, everything returned to what it was at the beginning of the night.
The audience was packed in front of their stage, chanting their name and pouring adoration upon them. And looking over at Stage 01, Layla couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as Shelly Veston, The Artificial Queen's Acolyte, looked so lost and alone as she sat on the edge. For only gods and their Acolytes may remember the names and faces of those that have vanished from existence.
- - - - - - - -
In the far back of Avery's, Emmy smiled warmly. Proud of the victory The Goddesses had claimed. The first of many trials yet to come for them, she was certain of it.
"What did I tell you? Are they not headliner material or what?"
Turning her head, Emmy lifted her Gimlet to give a salute to the people seated next to her as she awaited their response.
"They're a bit too uppity for me." a ruggedly handsome man said with a Georgian drawl, dismissively rolling his eyes beneath his bright white cowboy hat as he took a sip of his whiskey and cola.
"Do you have to be so misogynistic to EVERY goddess, Chester?" a beautiful Asian woman of Korean descent sneered, dressed in a sparkling red and blue dress.
"Janey's right," a Mexican guy who looked too young to be in a place like Avery's added in, sipping his soda through a straw that was slipped through one of the open partitions in his lizard half-mask. "It gets a little much when you have to demean every girl on the planet just to make yourself feel better, pendejo."
Chester Barley slowly stood from his seat, loudly placed his drink on the counter and glared at Michel.
"Wetback like you gonna give me lip?" he asked, puffing up his chest to look more imposing as he stared down his nose at the young rapper.
"Transplant like you gonna DO something about it?" Michel fired back, leaping from his seat and returning Chester's gaze despite being the much smaller man.
"그만해!!" Janey shouted, summoning two spouts of sea water from her hands to push the bickering men apart. "No more fighting! We lost one god tonight, and we don't need more death needlessly!"
As both men were left sputtering and coughing at being doused with salt water, Emmy could only shake her head and chuckle at the actions of young gods. Downing the rest of her drink, she hopped out of her seat. And with a wave of her hand to her kids that mingled with the crowd throughout the entirety of the venue, Emizara The Annointer took on her divine seeming of a glowing figure clad in blue and white light, invisible to all but those of purpose and their Acolytes. And in a brief flash of light, had left to resume her duties as overseer of The Ascension Game.
-
Nice to see more, and good to know more will come. Keep up the nice work.