[There will be both a link to the Gdoc of the story, and it will also be posted in full below. So which ever is easier to read^~^]
Exquisite Corpse, Girl
Somewhere beneath the shuffling feet of dementia riddled gods, hidden in the shadow of a hollowed out sun, and peering over the edge of oblivion is a graveyard. The land has been fertilized in oceans of blood, and decorated with the desecrated bodies of civilization.
It’s here where you’ll find me, both master and slave to my own domain, aiding in the bizarre and the weird in their unholy rituals...
It was hard for me to be surprised. When something crossed the barrier of my graveyard, I slowly slid back into my body. Consceness was syrupy. I blinked away the crust from my eyes, regretting that I’d slept for so long. The dead god’s dreams were nearly lucid nowadays. Made it easy to get turned around in the void.
Darkness retreated to the far corners of my room as I sat up in bed, quivering and whimpering like a scalded dog. I peeled back damp covers from a body sticky with sweat, remains from the last two weeks of slumber. I couldn’t help chuckling at the bloody irony of it.
“Weeell…. guess it’s to be expected.” I glanced at the shimmering dream catcher hovering by my headboard, looking like a fairy made of stair dust. The glyph at the center of three translucent rings had gone a deep, inky black.
“Filters shoot to shit, man… guess I better give the Pelvic Farm a call.”
My bare feet had no more touched carpet when the door to my chamber door flew open.
“MASTER!” Obsidian brick walls echoed with the voice of my assistant.
Shoulda stitched every every hole on his face… nah, fuckers carpal tunnel would rule out sign language .
My chamber door smashed open, aged oak splintering. The stout little man in the doorway was momentarily framed in a backdrop to oblivion. As my consciousness expanded, the outside world was brought to life in sweeping brushstrokes of reality.
A long, black corridor bled into reality. Mortis X was dressed in a moldy, moth eaten set of robes. While the skin on his exposed arms had the complexion of a gas station ashtray, his bald head was a roadmap of mutilation. A topography of tortured flesh and scar tissue, no lips and two holes where his nose used to be. The only thing I’d left him were two sewn eyelids.
“Master! Wake uuuup! The Night Mavens are coming!”
I glared at him. Even blinded, my assistant shuttered and stumbled back outside the threshold of my chamber.
“F-Forgiveness, Master, but they’re crossing the Fields of Desecration now. Only a matter of minutes before they’re knocking at the temple.”
I sighed. “Always something… least the Night Mavens always promise to be entertaining. Did the underlings keep the temple well in my absence?”
“Er… well enough. They work in the darkness fine, but Master…” Mortis nervously tapped his frayed fingertips together. “The world’s Iteration flickered. Some underlings fell through…”
“Able to fish any out?”
“Some… but others were lost to the tides of oblivion…”
Standing, I beckoned towards the shadows. They flew from the corner and slid snuggly onto my body, grafting itself to me like a second skin. Darkness shrouded me like an ethereal cloak as I pulled it close. The chill I felt was bracing.
“As long as there’s enough to chase away the dust devils and bacteria banshees, I’ll tend to them later.” I walked as I talked, Mortis scurrying in my wake as I marched out my chambers. “For right now, prepare a grave plot. The Mavens move with urgency.”
“Yes, Master!”
With that Mortis hurried off. Figuring I should welcome my guests to Sacrament Grove, I made my way to the heart of the temple. Endless hallways of polished obsidian passed in my peripheral. It would be easy for anyone to get lost, but nearly a month marinating in the dreams of the Dead God had left my mind painfully lucid. My consciousness expanded and swelled. I visualized the temple’s ever changing network as easily as an MRI scans a brain tumor.
I made it to the nave just as the first few booming knocks sounded at the temple’s entrance, the tall oak doors rattled on their hinges. Some sinew seekers stirred from their roosts. They wouldn’t leave the temple’s high, vaulted ceiling with me awake though.
Motioning with my hand, tendrils of inky black rising up and lashing themself to the door. A simple gesture wrenched them both open. A dozen or more women, all shrouded in the black cloaks, stood hunched at my doorstep. They were like a funeral parade of widowers.
I only knew they were women from our previous dealings. The Night Mavens were a rising coven of witches, garnering notoriety in the past from some of their deals with pit demons and ash devils in the higher wheels of the cosmos. I’d never mind lending them a hand in the past, but it seems their new Head Mother has set their ambitions on a higher power… I should say lower.
The Night Mavens filled into my house of sacrament, led by a figure who stood apart from their rank. I assumed this to be the High Mother. Both times I’d met with the Night Mavens, their leader had fit one of two molds -either decrypt hags with dust in their veins or pale skinned godivas sculpted into a fleshy visage of a fertility goddess.
While I’d have fun with either, I was pleased to see this new Night Mother matched the last one.
The doors slammed shut behind them. Hooded heads glanced at one another, uneasy and afraid. That was good. Fear meant I didn’t have to worry about a henchwoman trying something stupid.
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
The dagger tipped heels of her boots clicked as the Night Mother strolled forward, the only one not hiding beneath a cloak. Her body was a mountain range, the peaks and valleys of her curves accentuated by black lace and shiny latex. The low cut V of her bodice revealed a meaty chasm of cleavage. Pale flesh wobbled with every step.
As a connoisseur of flesh… I had to give my stamp of approval.
Her face was handsome. She had the sharp, chiseled features of a valkyrie. Full, plump lips parted slightly into a gasp as my awareness rolled over her. Her eyes fluttered beneath the silk blindfold. It was the only reason she hadn’t gone mad through the Fields of Desecration. Platinum blonde hair fell neatly to her bare, sleeveless shoulders. Looked as if she had it cut with a precision blade.
The Night Mother said nothing, standing before me with her posture stiff and her chin tilted high. She looked like a gothic diva waiting to have her portrait taken.
A minute passed in silence. I watched her, bemused. It was a custom that visitors to Sacrament waited until spoken to. I only enforced to make sure my guests were actually willing to follow my directions. Despite the new Night Mother’s pomp and flair, I could sense she would wait until her coven waisted and her beaty wilted. There was hope yet she wouldn’t die in the ritual.
“You can take the blindfold off now,” I said at least. “I promise I’m awake.”
Claw-like fingernails tore the silk from her face. Smoke colored eyes glared, trying to bore their way through me. She wasn’t impressed with what she saw. I could tell you that, even if I didn’t read her emotions. My glamor showed different things to different people. Most of the time I aimed to disarm them.
“There was resistance at the barrier, Herald. I thought you said you would be lucid.”
“I’m lucid now.”
“And what would have happened if we’d made our way in while you still slept, hmm?”
“Hehe, are you serious? Figured the Night Mavens weren’t foolish enough to force their way into an Outsider’s realm.”
While the Night Mother’s expression remained, her high cheekbones flushed pink. The other Mavens shuffled. While they would never openly defy their Mother, they’d likely rip the plus-sized witch limb from limb if they thought I’d punish them because of the Night Mother. The thought made me feel a little guilty.
I flashed a smile. “It’s a joke, ladies. Anyways, why don’t you introduce yourself and we can get on with this. You seemed rather… hasty when you performed the Black Rite.”
The Night Mother took a deep breath, bountiful chest swelling until it began to spill slightly from the neck of her bodice. It looked like fresh dough ready for some kneading. She at least seemed sure of herself again.
Fucks sake, did I get lost in a wet dream of something? Need to bury my impulses…
“I am Druscilla, seer and Mother to the Mavens. I have come here for your aid in securing a deal with-”
“AH! Don’t speak an Outsider's name here, girl, you trying to get me in trouble? Just grab your offerings and come with me. My underlings should have a plot already picked out for us. The rest of your sisterhood can wait here.”
I motioned Druscilla to follow as I started to move past them. She had started to put the blindfold back on when I shook my head.
“There’s no need for that now that I’m lucid. Just don’t look too long at the sky.”
There had been countless rituals in the Graveyard of Desecration since I’d taken stewardship of the place. The alters had become like headstones, the twisted and mutilated bodies of previous rituals marked the burial plots of long forgotten gods. I couldn’t even recall their names, and I was the one who buried the shitheads.
The best part of being connected to the realm itself? I was able to ogle Druscilla’s wide hips as they swayed with every step. Perhaps it was unprofessional, but I used my power to peer deeper… through the material of her clothes. Had to admit I was a bit surprised when I noticed the roadmap of tattoos traced along her body.
This was going to be interesting.
The plot Mortis picked was perfect. It sat atop the crest of a hill, overlooking the forest of corpses that filled the Graveyard. The sky above was black and featureless.
Druscilla stepped into the ritual circle. Her eyes remained locked on the weathered, stone cross at its center. A corpse had been crucified to it. The freshest I had, and yet it’s skin had gone sallow and papery.
“Peering through the veil of oblivion is dangerous,” I said, “but I’m not here to entertain cautionary tales or lessons of hubris. You’ll do as I say when I say.”
I didn’t have to be an empath to tell Druscilla wanted to protest. Lush lips tightened and a well plucked eyebrow twitched. Instead of an argument, she gave a determined nod.
Good.
“You know the rites. You know the words that must be spoken. Begin them when you’re ready, and do not stop no matter what. Not until you finish..”
Druscilla lowered her head and spoke the rites. Meanwhile I did my best to prepare myself. I was to be her conduit. A megaphone, projecting her will into the abyss. Whether she had the mental strength to handle what answered back…
Druscilla jumped as I saddled up behind her, but never stumbled on her words. The witch’s pillowy rump pressed against me, stocking a fire in the loins of my body. I quickly cut off sensation to that extremity. Figured Druscilla didn't have an extra distraction poking her in the ass…
Reaching around her, I cupped both hands to Druscilla’s eyes. The witch’s skin was feverish.
Physical contact opened a bridge of sensation between, allowing my awareness to seep into the Night Mother. I felt every nerve ending. Every cell quivered in my mind’s eye. I could even feel the tightness of that outfit around her well-endowed figure.
Feeling our connection secure, I turned my attention skyward. When I was sure Druscilla said everything she needed… I peeled back the sky.
Druscilla shuddered as an angry flare lit up the Graveyard. The hollow eclipse burned like an angry sun’s anus, a fiery ring that bleached the world in its shadow.
When I removed my hands from her face, a hollow sun burned in both her eyes.
“Don’t look at the sun directly,” I said, a little shaky as I took a step back. “Feedback will split you from crown to cunt.”
Druscilla nodded. Despite the fear causing her milky thunder thighs to tremble, I sensed only steely determination from her thoughts.
“Hear me,” Druscilla said.
Immediately the corpse twitched and jerked. It looked like a frog on a hot skillet. The body shrugged off its loose bonds, only to create a symphony of snapping bones as its limbs curled back to wrap around the stone. The corpse yawned. It’s mouth stretched into an unending cavern of rot and decay.
Druscilla didn’t blink. “I’ve come for knowledge. The power to see. The understanding to lead.”
Not even I understood the dead god when it spoke back. Perhaps it was a cosmic pecking order trying to teach me my place. I suspected it was the dead fuckers way of trying to cockblock me with the most divine witch I’d ever seen. For a while I simply watched… observed.
Even if I didn’t understand the dead god, I felt his knowledge burning ditches through the witches brain. Not necessarily a bad thing. Learning higher insights came with higher risks. And Druscilla was seeing that first hand.
Tears streamed from Druscilla’s glowing eyes. Her bosom heaved with each ragged breath, and her knees threatened to buckle. Still she endured. After a minute, symbols began to burn beneath her clothes.
Before my eyes, Druscilla was wreathed in molted ivy. The glyphs tattooed into her skin blazed with power of understanding. So it was a safeguard, a way to siphon too much energy. Clever girl.
The witch’s stylish outfit didn’t last much longer. Smoke curled as the soft fabric burned away into nothing. I’ll admit I didn’t quite look respectfully. I’d dealt with a number of prime subjects in my time, but dear Druscilla just about took the cake. Healthy and ripe… and now forged anew by a deeper understanding of the cosmos.
I wasn’t sure when the change had happened. Maybe that’s why I got a quick thrill when Druscilla looked at me.
Pale skin shimmered like starshine, the tattoos now a winding constellation of power. It looped around each melon sized breast before curling down hips and dipping between her thighs. An ethereal cloud of silver hair flowed down her back, caught in an unending breeze. Iris crowded Druscilla sockets. Hundreds of eyes stared at me through the beautiful mask of a woman before she blinked, her gaze returning to normal.
“W-what happened?” Her voice quavered. Though her sanity was indeed still intact, it hadn’t come through intirelly unscathed. But that was a fence that could easily be mended… if she had someone who could instruct her.
“Well, you’re still walking and squawking. I guess it was a success.”
Druscilla looked confused, glanced down at her nude body. There was no shame or self-consciousness in her expression.
“I don’t… why can't I remember what… what they said?”
I chuckled. “Because you’re still mortal. Don’t worry, it took. You wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t”
Druscilla didn’t say anything for a moment, so I took the time to inspect her more closely. I pressed my awareness against her again, and was surprised when the Night Mother’s body resisted me. It wasn’t much, almost like trying to make the reverse sides of a magnet touch. That fact it was there at all made me excited.
I allowed Druscilla the time to recompose herself. When she did, the witch summoned a robe of liquid rubies. It hugged her obscene body like a wetsuit. A smile tugged at my lips. I wasn’t sure if it was a type of imation or not, but it looked flattering on her nonetheless.
“I… thank you for your assistance, Herald.” Druscilla gave a shallow bow. “Perhaps… another arrangement can be made.”
A thrill ran through. Despite Druscilla’s stoic and stern demeanor, I saw the thirst for more in her eyes. I’d allow her to go to the edge of oblivion for a peek. And not only did she handle the incomprehensible, she had a taste for it too.
“I’m always open for a dance amongst the headstones, Night Mother. Oh the sights I could show an eager and obedient student looking to comprehend the incomprehensible.”
That stoked Druscilla’s desire. She said nothing as we made our way back to the temple. Didn’t have to. The witch was hooked, and would almost certainly be back.
Maybe I’ve found my next acolyte. It’s been a while since I’ve added one to my collection, and the others have to be getting lonely~
I pushed the pet project from my mind. There would be time for that later, after I made Druscilla the most juiced up Night Mother in the coven’s history. You gotta nurture talent~