Finding Goddess

"Caroline. Caroline."

She called to her. Called to Carol in a voice that shook the air like an echo in a tunnel of brass. It rumbled from the swirling clouds above. It bubbled wetly from the muck below. And it whispered gently all around her, its every elocution a drop of honey in her ear.

"Caroline. Caroline!"

It made her muscles go tense, sent shivers down her spine, raised bumps on her flesh, rattled her teeth in fright...and warmed her soul like a candle in her chest. She knew that voice, recognized it. She hadn't ever heard it before, but she recognized it regardless. Every woman knew that voice, deep down in their hearts.

"Caroline! Caroline! Come back to Me."

"I...I can't," Carol whispered, fighting her every urge to turn around and gaze upon the Goddess she knew was standing mere inches behind her. One half-step, that was all it would take for her to fall into Zenriah's arms, and by all that was holy, Carol so desperately wanted to be held in them. "I can't...be with You."

"Caroline," the voice repeated, the sound of tears welling up within every syllable unmistakable. "Caroline, please don't leave Me. I need you."

"I can't," Carol said, fighting back her own tears. She took a long step forward, bluntly, forcefully, flinching as though the act of moving her foot was physical painful. "I can't!"

"Caroline!" the voice cried out. For an instant, Carol felt something brush against her arm, something warm, something tender, something that promised to give her love, protection, and pleasure every moment of every day for the rest of her life, forever. For a moment, her heart nearly gave out; she almost gave up her rejection, almost gave up her retreat, almost turned back, ready to accept the Goddess' full embrace.

But just as quickly as it touched Carol, it was pulled away, and with it, so was seemingly everything else. The light, the air, the wind, even Carol's own breath froze, so swiftly, so abruptly, it was like they were never there to begin with.

The sun died. The sky turned black.

The ground froze. The earth turned to frost.

The breeze stopped. Its howl became silence.

And Carol fell. It felt as though she had been struck.

Above, the blackened clouds thundered. From within them glowed an unearthly light, blood of color and wicked of will. They flickered malevolently, seemingly laughing at Carol and the earth as they bathed everything in a sickly scarlet hue.

"Yesssssss," a new voice hissed from above and everywhere, its elocutions scratching on Carol's ears like nails on a stone. She covered them by reflex. "Surrender your Goddess to meeeeee! She is mine. Mine and mine alone!"

"No," Carol whispered shaking her head furiously, the evil voice echoing in her mind, louder and louder by the minute, blocking all her thoughts. She didn't want that, she didn't want to surrender the Goddess, she didn't want to leave Her alone with that...thing. "No!"

She spun around, ready to accept her Goddess in full. But it was too late. Zenriah was nowhere to be seen. "Zenriah?" Carol cried, suddenly feeling like a lost child separated from her parents. "Zenriah!"

Carol pushed herself upright, ready to run. Zenriah and the demon couldn't have gone far; if she hurried, she just might be able to catch up to them! But Carol wasn't able to climb any higher than on her knees when something suddenly seized her by the waist. It was soft...and woolly. Looking down, the mother gasped in horror when she saw what it was: a black skirt. That extended down to her ankles. CLOTHING HER!

She tried to pull it off, but it held firm, sinking its lecherous fangs into her flesh. Carol cried out in pain and buckled over, splashing mud where she fell. As she clutched her abdomen, hot and slippery with blood, a new sensation began to overcome her arms. Looking down at them, the woman gasped in horror as she saw her own blood begin to wrap around her limbs, spreading all the way down to her fingertips and creeping up to her elbows, congealing and solidifying into a new substance, one that pressed tightly onto her skin from all angles, choking the air out of every inch of her limbs. Evening gloves. She was wearing evening gloves! Horrible, terrible evening gloves!

Carol nearly forgot about the pain shooting up from her waist, falling down on her side in shock as she stared at her arms aghast, like they had just been cut off. Which they might as well have been. She could no longer feel the air around them, the skin on her torso or even the wet blood from her injuries. All she could feel was the choking feeling of fabric closing in around them. The same sensation that was starting to creep up her legs and chest.

Stockings. Stockings were forming all around her legs and a bra was encasing her breasts, crushing them into her chest, pushing them into her lungs. She tried pulling them off, only for the cursed garb to bite into her just like the skirt had. Carol howled.

"Help," she wheezed as she collapsed, her breath growing shorter by the minute as more fabric materialized all around her, entombing her chest, her stomach, her neck, and even her head. "Help!" she called out, as loud as she could, even as she choked all around.

A hood grew over her head, draped over her face, blinding her. And then it sank into both her mouth and nostrils. All she could see, all she could feel, all she could hear, smell and taste was clothing.

***

"MMMFFF! MMMFFF-HMMMFFFF!"

The darkness was closing in on Carol, threatening to crush her like vice. It was getting into her eyes, getting into her skin, getting into her

soul

! She had to fight it. She had to

escape

it! So she kicked and she thrashed and she bit at the offending fabric that was trying to entrap her, trying to choke her, trying to keep her from seeing her beloved Goddess...

THUMP!

...Only to fall flat on her butt, off her bed, and onto her hardwood floor.

"Ouch."

After wrestling the blanket off and giving her ailing rump a tender rub, Carol peered around to see where she was. The desolate wilderness, the muddy ground, the ominous clouds above, they were nowhere to be seen. No horrible demons were haunting her, and no evil clothes were trying to consume her. She was...home. Where all was safe and all was sound and all was good.

Something clicked behind her, and then: "AAAANNNNNDDDDDD THEEEENNNNNN MY OOOLLLLLLD DOOOOOOG DIIIIIIII-EEEEEEEE-IIIIIIIIIEEED!"

Except for the music on her clock radio of course.

"Ugh, shut up, shut UP!" Carol growled, slamming the infernal device with an angry fist and silencing the horrid country music with it. Why the hell did she keep it tuned to that damn station anyway? Why the fuck hadn't she changed it yet?

Because hearing bad music is the only surefire way to get your ass out of bed

, her inner voice chided.

Which you need to do because you have work today and calling in sick again just won't do!

"Uggghhhh, I hate my life," she grumbled. She really did right now, after how the day before had transpired. But there was nothing she could do about that anymore. What was done was done. All Carol could do now was just try and live a normal life from this point forward. For her daughters' sakes of course. Standing up on her feet and stretching herself out, the mother trudged unenthusiastically to her door where she was greeted by a note to herself that read "Put your clothes on, stupid."

She looked down. Right. She was naked. Because that's how she slept. She liked to sleep naked. Sleeping naked, in the privacy of her own home, in the privacy of her own room, was acceptable, and going naked anywhere else was...not. Which meant she had to get dressed.

"Right, right," she muttered, turning around to gather her clothes and put them on. In normal circumstances, this would be the time Carol would throw on her robe and take a shower, but she had to play it safe today. If she didn't get dressed as soon as possible, she might very well not get dressed at all, which would land her in a lot of hot water if she showed up to work buck-ass naked. Especially since she was never going to become a Zenrist and going anywhere buck-ass naked would never be acceptable for her.

She didn't notice the tear falling from her eye until it was absorbed into her skirt.

***

The drive to work was hell. The temperature outside was approaching triple digits, which meant everything in her car was in quadruple digits. The seats were hot, the wheel was blistering, the metal buckle on her seatbelt nearly branded her skin when she touched it, and even the air seemed to scald her throat with every breath she took. It was enough to make Carol want to storm out and skip work for another day, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on. The AC would make things bearable soon enough.

It did. Eventually. Once she rounded the corner and parked the car in the lot of the Trilo Publishing building.

"Figures," Carol groaned as she stepped put of the car, wincing at how damp and sticky she felt all over. Beads of sweat were pouring down her face, her hair clung tightly against her skin, and the pool of moisture in her back was causing her blouse to press awfully deep into it. Just like how the clothes bit into her flesh in that dream.

"Damn it," she cursed, slipping her blazer off and picking at the fabric in her back, peeling it away. It was bad enough women had to wear clothes when they were clearly never meant to, but was it really necessary to make office garbs so Goddess-damned hot?

Carol practically flew into the building, eager to escape the sauna of her car and the inferno of the outside world for the cool, heavenly paradise that was the office. Unfortunately, she was not greeted by the welcoming feeling of popsicles on her skin like she hoped, but by more fiery air.

"What the ffffffrick?"

Harold walked by, waving a folder over his face as a makeshift fan and notably not wearing his own coat over his button-up shirt. "Air conditioners broke down," he said matter-of-factly.

Carol had to resist the urge to scream. "The air conditioners broke down? Are you fffffffricking kidding me?"

"They got some people up on the roof working on them," said Harold. "Hopefully, they'll get them fixed in the hour. Assuming they're working hard—"

"And not hardly working," Carol snarled, feeling really not in the mood for jokes right now.

"Least you still have your sense of humor," Harold said, forcing a chuckle out of his equally forced smile. Carol resisted the urge to punch his teeth in. "If I were you, I would have called in sick for another day. No one would blame you if you did. I sure wish I had."

"Too late for that," Carol groaned as she made her way to her desk. It was just her luck; first the AC in her car went out to lunch, and then the AC in the office went straight to Hell. Is that where she was right now, Hell in all its fire and brimstone glory? It sure felt like it.

It wouldn't have been a problem if she was a Zenrist. Heat did not bother them. They could dance in fire, sleep on coal, and trek the hottest deserts on the globe without suffering so much as a sunburn, and they did it all without a stitch on to protect their bodies. If Carol had been a Zenrist, then something as minor as a hot summer day wouldn't have affected her at all. But she was not a Zenrist, and she would never be one. No matter how much she desperately wished for it. Heck, just being able to safely take her clothes off would have brought her some relief, especially since they were clinging ever tighter to her sweltering, sweaty body.

Just brute force your way through it, Carol. Tough it out, and before you know it, you'll be back to normal again.

She sat at her desk. She winced like she was in pain, and shivered all over like she was cold, even though she most definitely wasn't. The act of sitting down pressed her skirt ever more tightly against her butt cheeks. She could feel the fabric dig almost painfully between them like a dozen clawed fingers.

You'll be normal again, Carol.

She turned her computer on. The fabric in her sleeve oozed around her arm, running down her skin like the slime of a fruit gone to rot. It smelled like it too...or was that just the stench of sweat all around her? Carol couldn't tell. She didn't want to tell.

Be...normal...

Her breath hitched. Her throat closed. She gagged. She choked. She couldn't breathe! A noose was tightening around her neck, stealing her breath, stealing her life!

No it wasn't. There was no noose at all. It was just her collar. It was feeling a little tight was all. She pulled at it. The walls in her throat retracted. Oxygen flowed through her lungs once again. She was breathing now. She was...normal.

Carol kicked herself out of her chair and stomped off to the lady's room, where she would find a break from this unbearable heat with some cold water to the face. It was more lukewarm than anything; public restrooms were never known for having adequate temperatures for water—or having adequate water, period—but it was still a welcome feeling from the pressure and heat that was blasting Carol in every direction. From the air, from within herself...and from the tightening, constraining clothing caging nearly every inch of her skin.

I could...I could relieve myself of it too

, she thought, stealing a glance at the toilet stalls. All she had to do was hop into one of them and strip, just like she had done previously. It was so easy and it was perfectly safe too. No one would see her do it, and if they did, they couldn't judge her. She was a lady and this was the ladies' room. She could do whatever she wanted in it!

No, no she couldn't. Not anymore. She couldn't do that. Since delving into the Zenrist religion, Carol had become...addicted to nudity, as if it was a drug. And like a pathetic junky, she was always looking for her next fix, craving it, feeding it every moment she could. She was even trying to do it in the bathroom, for the Goddess' sake!

I have to go cold turkey with this. I can't...I can't indulge in being naked, or else I'll...I'll never be able to get over it.

Digging her feet into the floor, Carol wrestled her gaze away from the toilets, which were looking more and more like the most beautiful things she had ever seen in her life, and looked back into the mirror. Where she was met by the most notably unbeautiful thing ever: her wet, clammy face, ruined by smeared lipstick and running eyeliner.

"Goddess damn it," she muttered. It didn't stop. It was just one thing after another today. It was bad enough she was acting like a junky, now she had to look like one too?

Calm down, Carol, just calm down. You have your purse and you have your makeup. Look, you even brought them with you like a good girl. You can make this right. No one has to know you what a mess you are. Outside or in.

Carol washed her face again, rinsing away the remnants of her makeup. Then she dried it out with some paper towels, and went through the exhaustive process of putting it back on again. She reapplied her lipstick, lined her eyes, coated her lashes with mascara, and tried to ignore the wrinkles she was certain weren't there yesterday.

***

The stars turned, the oceans danced, the clouds thundered. And then...all was silence. Every wave sank, every light dimmed, and every flame, from the faintest candle to the Great Brazier of Kinuse, was snuffed out. For but a moment, all the world was covered in darkness, and for the first time since their inception, the Lovers of Zenriah felt lost. The thanes enveloped in the heat of battle found no foes to fight, the cremators found no dead to rest, mothers found no daughters to birth, builders found no temples to raise, and wives found no loves to comfort. They blinked, they stared, and they called out to each other and to their Goddess, for they knew not what had come to pass, or what was to come soon.

And then, like a thunderclap, they knew.

Zenriah was gone! To the Heavens She departed to face their enemy alone, and to the Earth She had not yet returned. The Goddess, who created Woman, gave her life, gave her purpose, filled her very existence with endless love, was naught to be seen, or heard, or felt.

And so, Womankind screamed and she howled and she cried. She cried from the searing pain that erupted in her heart, broken and shattered forevermore. She cried at the hole she felt darkening within her soul, bereft of the Goddess that would enwomb it no more. She cried to the air from which she would no longer hear Zenriah's voice or Her hymns or Her bodily chorus of pleasure and love and ecstasy. And she cried for the tears the Goddess could no longer shed for her..

The cries of Womankind pierced the air, and her tears soaked into the earth. Mountains crumbled, lands split, and sky was torn. And from that day on, all those born from Woman would weep in their first moments of life. For Womankind cried and she continues to cry to this very day for the Goddess she so desperately pines for.

***

The break in the bathroom only slightly helped. Splashing water on her face and reapplying her makeup provided a much-needed distraction for how unwell Carol felt, but the moment she sat down at her desk it started to build up again. Her body was growing hotter, her clothes were growing tighter, and both were getting wetter as perspiration dripped out of the former and soaked into the latter. Every little thing she did felt like she was pushing her body through glue, and the more time passed, the heavier and slimier she felt all over.

She wiped her brow, which was slick with sweat, and most definitely reflecting the office lights. Idly, she started to paw at her blazer.

I could...afford to take this off. No one will protest if I go without a coat for the day. It's not like I'd be the only one going without.

Indeed, it wasn't; she spied a couple coworkers who were content to work in only their white shirts as well.

Taking one article of clothing off wouldn't hurt...

Carol reeled back in horror. 'One couldn't hurt.' That was the mantra of the addict. One small drink and the recovering alcoholic would wake up hungover in a dumpster. One cigarette and the chronic smoker would need a lung removed. One potato chip and the girl on the diet would inflate like a balloon. If Carol took off her blazer, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop there. She'd take off her shirt as well, and then her shoes, and then her skirt. She run around the office butt-naked, get off on all the astonished stares of her coworkers, and masturbate right in front of them all. She'd squeeze her boobs, pinch her nipples, and smack her ass. Then, once it was clear how hot and horny she was, she would sit down, spread-eagle her legs, show everyone her very wet and very pink pussy, and ram her fingers into it.

A tingle erupted between Carol's legs that nearly sent her toppling to the floor.

Focus on your work, Carol. Focus on your work!

***

Before the arrival of Notrath, Woman knew Death only as a natural occurrence for the birds and the beasts of the Earth. Life borne of Chaos and without divine purpose is fragile and as such will inevitably decay and return to Chaos. Such is the way of Nature, and Death is naught but a part of Nature. But Woman was not borne of Nature and she was not borne of Chaos. She was molded by the Hand of the Goddess. The Goddess was immortal and incapable of dying and so Woman too was immortal and incapable of dying. Then the Demoness came, and she brought Death to Woman when she killed legions and legions of her by the score. And so Death came to Woman, not through Nature and Chaos, but through violence and force borne of unholy lust and greed.