Recursion B.5.

RECURSION

B.5.

“ARISE MY CREATION!”

Princess Ollevia blinks open her eyes, confused. Where is she? The last thing she can recall is… an assault? On the palace? The doorway to her bedchamber splintering, crashing inward, the clank of dark armor, the flash of a blade… pain… oblivion…

“Where am I?”

“Who the fuck are you!?”

Joesai looks around in sharp confusion: has she been sussed? Pinched? She’d breached the wizard’s tower, was on the hustle, had slinked and slithered in her way through traps and wards, evaded a Gaurdian or two, and had puzzled the laboratory gate, except… there’d been an unaccounted ward? A powerful glyph? A flash! Agony! The smell of ozone? And then… absence?

Hands clap for attention and Princess Ollevia and Joesai both orient their eyes to a tall slender man in crimson robes. “Your attention,” the wizard says sternly.

“Kind Sir,” Ollevia asks, “What has happened?” Her body feels odd, lumpen and strange, fractured somehow, and so, so cold. 

“Master.” The wizard corrects. He has a cruel face with a thin goatee and a sharply receding hairline.

“The fuck did you say?” Joesai spits. She feels numb and sluggish and cold. She should be twitchy, adrenaline bright, racing heart, but she feels heavy like clay, muddy. Is she enspelled? Magically slowed?

“I am your Master, impertinent creature.”

 “Says who?” Joesai wants to strike and scamper, but her limbs refuse to act.

“What do you mean?” Ollevia asks, wondering where the other woman’s voice is coming from.

The wizard sighs, gestures, and a mirror floats off the wall and into view. Joesai gasps and Ollevia shrieks! Their reflection is monstrous! A two-headed woman! A patchwork quilt of body parts! Dead flesh! A corpse-construct! 

Ollevia moans in dismay, she can see her pretty face with its hallo of burnished coppery hair, but her skin is deathly pale and her neck is connected to the corpse body by a ragged red cicatrix sewn with ugly wire stitching. The corpse body has broad muscular shoulders, green-grey like a half-orc, with the powerful arms of a warrior, covered in sharp tribal tattoos. Top arms, since the body has four of them, with two more mismatched lower arms, one the delicate inky purple of a dark elf, the other slender and pale with a clever hand marked by a Thieves Guild tattoo. The corpse body’s wide torso is hung with four large breasts, two huge orcish tits matching the shoulders and two smaller ones below, one dark skinned with a pierced nipple, the other pale and freckled, all four generous and heavy and sewn on by wires. The body has wide red-skinned hips and a generous rear that sprouts a sinuous tail, perhaps from a Tiefling? The body’s thighs are shapely and brown and its legs end in mismatched calves with delicate feet from two different women. The body is etched with jagged red scarred seams and stitching, and quilted with small patches of flesh, crude mending like on a macabre doll. Strangest of all, the corpse body has a second head sewn on, a honey blonde half-elf with a convict’s brand on her pale left cheek. The half-elf growls: “You fucking killed me!”

“You killed yourself with your incompetence, thief. I simply recycled your fresh nervous system.” The wizard sniffs, “What was left of you was still twitching when I found your corpse.”

“And what of me?”

“Ah, Princess, you’re more of a trophy. Your decapitated head was a keepsake, but I thought you’d add a touch of courtesy and breeding to my new servant.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll kill you,” Joesai promises. One of the big hands on the corpse body slowly twitches, unwilling to clench.

“You’ll find that most impossible,” The wizard says smugly, sending the mirror floating back to the wall. “Golems cannot harm their masters.”

“Fucking…”

“Careful, I can always remove your insubordinate tongue.”

“But… master… why do this to us?” Olivia asked, a feeling of creeping dread in her icy guts.

“Because I require a servant to clean and cook for me and it’s simpler to repurpose flesh than train clay to think.”

“Why are we so… busty?” Ollevia asks quietly, her dead cheeks unable to blush.

“Because I have inconvenient mortal needs that must be met.”

“Needs?”

“He means he wants us to fuck him.”

“Oh…”

“Crudely put, but not inaccurate.” The wizard brushes his hands. “I have matters to attend, and you, my Servant, have a tower to tidy. Take a moment to collect yourselves and get to work. I’ll be expecting dinner and other festivities this evening.” The wizard turns in a flutter of robes and quits the chamber, exiting through an arched doorway.

“Well fuck,” Princess Ollevia spits.

“Aye,” Joesai says with a small smile. She guesses her new royal head didn’t curse much. Joesai sticks out her tongue and frowns; this is a tough spot, but she’d been dealt bad hands before, and speaking of hands… she focuses on her limbs. She can feel all four hands, although faintly, as if they were numb or far away. She tries to make a fist and felt two hands, the left ones, clumsily contract, the right pair remaining stubbornly relaxed. “Hmm…”

“What are you doing?”

“Sussing how our body works, Princess.”

“Oh.”

“Can you move our right hands?”

Ollevia thinks about their icy hands and tries to wiggle all twenty of their fingers. Ten of them, the right ones, respond, albeit sluggishly. She lifts the top right arm, the muscular orcish one, turns it over, and looks at her huge meaty palm, agog that this great paw could be her hand now. She makes a powerful fist, “This is so strange.”

Joesai turns her neck and can see Ollevia’s face from the corner of her eye. Their heads were too close. “Let’s try to walk, ken?” 

Ollevia nods and tries to take a step, but only the right leg responds to her command, dully, flopping forward like half-cooked meat. Joesai grunts, braces their left leg, keeps them from falling, and then scrapes their numb left leg forward in another lurching step. “Again,” Joesai coughs, and Ollevia grits her teeth and drags her leg forward, and then Josesai, then Ollevia, together managing to move their corpse body in an ungainly shuffle, laboriously, their tail dragging limply on the floor, until they reach the mirror. Ollevia halts and looks at herself, themselves, in dismay. They are an undead monster. “What shall we do?”

Joesai frowns at their reflection and takes stock. Their new body is freakish to be sure, but perhaps it has advantages? Their top Orcish arms are powerful, their legs are long and strong, and Joesai had fantasized a time or two about having bigger tots, perhaps four could be jolly fun. She rather fancied their tail too. She lifts the lower human arm she controls and studies the hand with the tattoo, a mark of the Thieve’s Guild. She grins: it’s her original hand, her clever one, the one that could suss any lock ever devised. She wiggles her fingers and it might be bent, but they seemed more deft than the rest of their dead body. Which is the real crux of her troubles: being a thief required speed and grace and their reanimated flesh is clumsy, doubly so with shared ownership. How could they leap with only one leg? Climb a wall? Flee the Watch? Joesai has enough trouble making her own choices, she didn’t need a permanent co-conspirator. ‘Course these were all items to suss later, first they had to slip the clutches of that bastard wizard. Joesai looks at their reflection and makes eye contact with Ollevia, “I ken we should hastefully escape, Princess. I’m not going to be some wizard’s maid.”

Princess Ollevia nods, mouth set in a tight line, “I absolutely refuse to be his sexual plaything!” Her half of the body shudders, “Truly vile!”

Joesai agrees but says: “Careful, my blessed mum was a whore.”

“Oh.”

“And it’s an honest profession, Princess.”

Ollevia smirks, “Says the thief.”

Joesia smiles, “Tyrant.”

Ollevia lets out a little giggle and then shakes her head, “How can we even escape? And where can we go? We’re a corpse.”

“M’ladies, perhaps I can be of assistance?” 

“Fuck! Who said that?”

“Apologies,” the mirror grows dark and the image of a flame appeares within its unnatural depths. “I did not intend to startle you.”

Ollevia blinks and raises her slender Drow hand to touch the mirror, reconsiders, and lowers the hand. “And who, pray tell, are you?”

“You are not the wizards first slaves,” the flame says with a bitter flicker, “I am the entrapped soul whose essence animates this tower.”

“Oh.”

“And I would make a bargain with you: free me from the tyrant wizard’s binding and I shall restore you both to life.”

“Oh,” Olleiva touches her lips with the clammy wide finger of the orc. Being alive again would be a vast improvement over being a shambling patchwork corpse. “That sounds good to me.”

Joesai scowls, “Bargains are troublesome, and not worth more than the collateral. How do we know you won’t scurry off once we free you? Or that you can actually deliver the goods?”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant question,” Ollevia says, blushing.

“Tah.”

The flame in the mirror burns thoughtfully, “The answer to both can be found in my nature.”

Joesai frowns, “Meaning?”

“You’re a Demon,” Ollevia says in aghast wonder, “And probably a rather powerful one.”

“Indeed. I shall tell you no names, but I am a Greater Beast, which means I have the ability to restore your vitality and I am bound to any bargain we strike.”

“Yes, but, in the Epics, a Demon’s bargain is always fraught with danger, and unexpected consequences…” Ollevia chews her lip.

“It’s not as if we have a better offer,” Joesai mutters. “Right, we accept your bargain: the restoration of our lives for your freedom.”

“Excellent. The wizard shall be occupied and I will unlock the internal wards to ease your passage. You must simply find my prison.”

“Where is that?”

“My prison is at the pinnacle of the tower.”

“Shit, and how do we get there?”

“You climb.”

***

“Just how tall is this fucking tower,” Joesai growls.

Ollevia can only grunt in agreement. Stair climbing as the shambling undead was difficult, especially given their divided leg control. It was mentally arduous shifting one leg into position, lifting, and balancing as the other leg moved through it’s cycle, even if their cold dead flesh never tired. Over and over and over, a circular staircase that climbed seemingly forever. The Wizard’s abattoir must have been in a subterranean dungeon, but even so, the Wizard’s tower must be impressively tall given how far they’ve continued to climb.

“You are nearly there,” A flickering wall sconce calls to them as warding ruins flare blue and dim to let them pass. 

“Fucking… fuck…”

They limp up one more turn of the stairwell and find it ends at an elaborately carved heavy wooden door. “Holy Divines,” Ollevia gasps in gratitude.

Joesai watches as glowing blue lines trace deadly magical wards hidden amongst the door carvings. The arcane script blazes for a moment, white hot, then grows dim and inert. Safe. Josai grins, raiding a wizard’s tower was much easier with the tower itself abetting. She reaches forward to push the door open, but it jams closed, rattles on a mechanical lock. “Hmm…”

Ollevia whispers, “What do we do?”

“Leave this to me, Princess,” Joesai reaches into her honey blonde hair and gropes with her big orc hand, searching, feeling, and finding! “Ha,” she pulls her hidden backup lockpicks free of her mane. “Bastard never even checked.”

Joesai inspects the tension wrench and pick in her big hand and licks her lips. Sussing a lock was usually a two-handed job, right and left, and her numb orcish paw didn’t seem suited for fine work. She lifts the wrench in her clever thief hand and slips the pick between her teeth for safekeeping. Worrying the pick with her tongue, she places her orc hand on the door next to the lock, splayed and steadying, and carefully inserts the wrench into the lock. Joesai torques the wrench slowly, just so, and holds it taut. “Princess,” she murmurs around the pick, “Hold the wrench, right? Keep it still.”

“Oh.” Ollevia grasps the wrench with her slender Dark Elven hand, ever so careful not to move it. 

Joesai plucks out her pick, licks it for luck, and slides it carefully into the lock, feeling around the tumbler, prodding pins one, two, three, four out of the way. “Turn the wrench just like a key,” she whispers.

Ollevia frowns and twists the wrench, and with a slight click the door falls open. “Amazing.”

“Tah,” Joesai says with obvious relish.

The pair shamble into a round stone chamber with a fire burning in the center. The flame has an odd color, too bright, too red, too vibrant to be natural and it burns silently, smokelessly, suspended in the air without fuel. The floor of the chamber is carved with a maze of runes and wards, some painted in ink, others slickly wet like blood, others scrawled in white lines of crystal salt. The air thrums oddly with a pitch that could be felt instead of heard, and Joesai feels herself wilt away from the fire in fear. “This is bad magic…”

Ollevia studies the runes carefully and feels that secret familiar tug, her innate sense of magic. The hidden talent her King Father insisted she never reveal, never cultivate. She reaches out with her dead Dark Elf hand and senses the tingle of the spell weave even more clearly. She plucks a strand in the enchantment and the entire ward flickers, monetarily unstable. 

“What did you do?” Joesai asks.

“Your companion is an untrained sorcerous and your dark-skinned hand belonged to a powerful mage. Thief, you were the solution to a locked door, but the Princess shall be the key to my prison.”

“Oh.” Ollevia says.

“Simply rend the ward,” the flame crackles, “And I shall return your mortal life.”

Ollevia nods, slips her cold tongue between her teeth and focuses on the magical construct of the ward, moving her borrowed mage hand to touch the flow of ethereal energies. She finds some sort of nexus, a structural knot in the weave, and grabs it, feels insubstantial quicksilver caught within her fingers. She grimaces, makes a fist, and yanks, feels the invisible energy in the spell warp, stretch, and snap! “Oh!”

 

The wards flash! Brilliantly! 

The air sizzles with ozone and metal!

The magical ink fades and the blood runes boil away into greasy smoke!

A violent wind erupts scattering the salt and fills the chamber with the sharp reek of brimstone!

The fire swells in size and intensity! Roars! Searing heat! Furnace blast wind! A coiling mass condensing in the center! Smoke and shadow! Liquid cruelty! 

“YESSSSSS!!!”

The inferno snuffs out and in its place is a glowing nude Demon. He stands up, eight feet tall, muscular and handsome, with dark red skin, wide bullish horns, heavy cloven hooves, a ropey bovine tail, and a massive equine cock. His skin is crisscrossed with glowing ember tattooes and his eyes blaze like fiery coals. “Yes!” The Demon shouts again, the air trembling with oppressive heat. The demon smiles, dark fangs before a glowing furnace. “Freedom!”

“Which means we upheld our part of the bargain,” Ollevia says carefully.

“So pay up,” Joesai says with a bravado she doesn’t feel.

The demon studies the conjoined pair with possessive glowing eyes, a tongue of flame flickering at his lips. “You did.”

“You owe us.”

The demon smirks, “I do.” He rubbed his big hands together, “Very well.”

He thrusts out his hands and a tidal wave of heat and energy crashes over Joesai and Ollevia, flames lash across their skin in undulating burning ribbons! The pair watch in shock as the flames dissolve the wire that stitches their body together, melts away the ragged scars of their quilted corpse body, blends their mismatched flesh together seamlessly, organically. They hiss as warmth surges through their shared body, heat returning to cold dead limbs, a huge heart shuddering to rhythm in their chest, shared lungs gasping for air. They feel their conjoined body become brighter, vivacious, their connection gaining fidelity and vitality. They were alive! A living, breathing, two-headed woman! A seamless new creature.

“What?” Ollevia gasps.

The demonic flames liming their body coalesce into spinning bands around their four wrists, their ankles, at their waist, and throats. The flames solidify into intricate black steel cuffs, a steel girdle, and twin slave collars. The steel restraints burn and fuse, permanently seal, become inorganic additions to their body. Ollevia and Joesai moan and feel the heat penetrate into their flesh, into their core, and their womb and pussy boil with sudden arousal. “What the fuck?” Joesai gasps as she touches the steel band surrounding her throat. “We had a deal! Why are we still together?”

“He promised us life,” Ollevia whines as their heart races and pussy clenches with need. “Not independence or freedom.” She whimpers, bites her lip, and flails their suddenly flexible Tiefling tail. 

“Very astute,” the Demon says, his stallion cock swelling fearsomely. 

“You tricked us!” Joesai groans, trembling, waves of heat and arousal radiating through their body. Their cunt aches almost painfully and the metal collar on her throat feels tighter, commanding, a terrible solid weight.

“I did exactly as promised,” the Demon gloats. “On your knees…”

Ollevia and Joesai gasp and fall to the ground, landing on their knees and strong orcish hands. They pant, chest heaving, heavy breasts hanging, four nipples hard points. Joesai clenches her original hand in anger and fear and need. Ollevia’s lips tremble and she fights the urge to reach down and touch their slippery hot cunt.

“Crawl,” the Demon growls and their body shudders with lust. Ollevia is afraid and Joesai feels the urge to fight, to rebel, but the pounding throb in their loins, the storm of lust in their bellies makes the conjoined women submit, to crawl, coordinating like rowers, dragging their strange body to their master, kneeling obediently at his hooves.

“Good,” The Demon grins down, “You will find me a most interesting and pleasing master.” The Demon reaches down, hooks hands under their muscular shoulders and lifts them into his arms as if they are weightless. Ollevia moans, eagerly wraps her leg around the Demon’s hip, clutches at their tits with her lower arm. Joesai holds herself back, resists, but then crumbles, hugging the Demon with her own leg, winding his powerful thigh with their tail. 

“Please….” Ollevia whimpers, “Take us….”

“Yes…” Joesai begs.

The demon lowers Ollevia and Joesai down onto his enormous equine cock. The women moan, a chorus of pleasure and shock and a little pain, as they are split open by the wide burning girth of the monstrous cock, stretched wide and filled to glorious discomfort by the Demon’s fiery shaft. The pair squirm, wriggle, helplessly impaled. Pinioned. The Demon laughs and starts to move them, to use them to fuck himself like a toy. They groan, overcome and helpless, pounded into again and again and again, wailing as they orgasm once, and twice, gasping as the Demon comes, erupting inside their cunt like a molten forge, painfully hot, painting their womb, infiltrating their souls, damning them. Ollevia and Joesai moan and feel their tail split in two, an intense burning on their shared shoulders as small draconic wings burst free, and a sharp pain in their skulls as sharp backswept horns grow from their foreheads. 

The Demon drops them to the ground, spent and used, and they feel molten demon cum leaking from their body and a huge fiery hunger seethe inside their womb. “Master,” Ollevia whimpers, “What have you done to us?”

“Made you mine, body and soul,” the Demon sneers. He snaps his clawed fingers and traces of shadow leap from his hands to the black collars on Ollevia and Joesai’s necks, leashing his enslaved creature. The Demon tugs and the conjoined demonesses climbs obediently to their feet. “Come my twined succubi, it is time for us to find and flay the pathetic wizard who dared triffle with me.”

The Demon opens the chamber door and steps through.

Ollevia and Joesai obediently followed>>>