The Institute of Apotheosis Research
Incestuous Mind Control Explodes 2: Mother Takes Charge
Deidre Icke, the president of the Institute of Apotheosis, shook her head as she stared at the camera feed of her two eighteen-year-old children each lying unconscious in separate storage rooms, locked inside and kept away from the others in the Institute.
It was all falling apart.
Guilt pressed down on her. Dr. Blavatsky entrusted his dream to her, leaving the Institute in her hands. She was charged with guiding the cult to finishing the creation of the Halos, locating the twelve new Gods, and setting in motion the enlightenment of mankind. It was all going so well, and then Ulrich Geller betrayed them.
And now so had her children.
Alex used the Gemini Halo, the special one designed to awaken a pair of twins, one soul separated into two bodies, a different perspective to finish off enlightenment. He was seduced by greed. She thought she could trust her son. Alexis, his twin sister, tried to stop him, inadvertently triggering the Halo. It was just a machine, a colony of nanites that would activate for anyone.
Deidre's ex-husband and Master walked in. The sight of Robert stiffened her spine. Once she thought she'd ruined their relationship with her affair. They had grown apart and she found comfort in another man, but the new Gods had shown her something more. That she deserved to be punished by her ex and then that she should be his sex slave.
She found such joy in submission.
"They're nearly done with the destruction," he reported. "The hard drives are all shredded and in the acid baths, and the physical documents are being shredded and dumped into the incinerator."
Deidre nodded her head. She glanced at the screen. Alexis stirred. She was sitting up, her dark hair spilling off her shoulders. She looked confused. Deidre swallowed. Her daughter was a Goddess now, but the wrong one. Alexis looked around the bare storage room and shouted, fear on her face.
Despite the guilt at failure, relief rippled through her. A tension melted out of Deidre to see her daughter awake. Her Master's hands clamped his hands on her shoulders, strong, gripping her. She leaned back into him.
Alex came awake next, his head casting around. They had to keep them locked up. They couldn't allow their powers to stop the Institute from completing their mission. The Judas Protocols had to be completed. None of the Gods could have the technology of the Halos. Only twelve were ever supposed to be produced.
And only Dr. Blavatsky and his wife understood the technology enough to recreate them from scratch. And they were gone, passed beyond into the next phase of existence, waiting for the rest of mankind to join them in enlightenment.
Will it even happen now?
Deidre wondered.
Is ten correct Gods enough?
Emotions whipsawed through her as she pressed a button on her keyboard, activating the microphone. Anger at her son slammed into a yawning terror swelling in her of his power. Then there was the awe. He was different now. Both her children were. The Halo and its nanites had elevated them.
"What have you done, Alex?" she asked her son, her voice quavering. A tremble raced through her body. "Why did you activate it?"
~ ** ~
Sirvard Vahan -- Cancer
I trembled as I held the gold circlet, the box open before me. The text message I just received burned in my mind. It promised an escape from my husband's abuse. Everyday I forced myself to believe he was right. I told myself over and over again. Sometimes I believed he had the right to discipline me, to lord over me.
Was donning this an act of defiance? I glanced out at the street, the box lying on our porch. Inside, my daughter, Anahit, was taking dinner out to the table to feed my angry husband and our son, growing into the same sort of tyrant as him. At twenty, Edvard had grown into the same sort of man as his father, following in the same dominating footsteps.
I pitied the Armenian girl he married.
I pulled off my hijab, exposing my black hair to the world. No one should see me. My cheeks burned for uncovering myself. I felt so naked. Anyone could see my hair. I placed the halo on my head and...
A tingle raced through me. My brain prickled like it had fallen asleep. I shook my head, my heart pounding. I leaned against the doorway, swaying as a wave of darkness washed across my eyes. I blinked, staring out at the street and--
A car drove by.
Gasping, I hastily covered the light-blue hijab over my head, hiding my hair before anyone saw me. I trembled, the tingling swept through my body. I closed the door. I leaned against it, my chest rising and falling as I looked around inside my house.
Why did I do that? It couldn't really change my life the way the text said. What would my husband say if he ever saw it around my head? I closed my eyes, hearing my husband and son moving to the dining room.
"Where's your mother?" growled my husband.
My daughter's answer was too low for me to hear. She never spoke loud, her head always bowed. She knew her place. How she had to act. Especially around her father. The way he looked at her, his eyes considering. How long before he lost control of his lusts? It wouldn't be the first time he had cheated on me. I wouldn't have the strength to stop him from molesting our daughter.
I headed for the dining room, smoothing my skirt as I walked. I took a deep breath, putting on my submissive smile. I had to be a good wife. I had to follow my faith. My husband was the lord of the household. I didn't have any power.
My slender daughter ladled the fish stew into her father's bowl. She was dressed modestly, her face wrapped up in her flowery hijab. She had porcelain features, her cheeks pale white, her dark eyes demure and downcast.
My husband, stroking his thick beard, stared at her with such hunger, his eyes flicking down her body. Her dress showed the swell of her modest bosom. A strange itch rippled through me at the way he stared at her. She was a blossoming girl, just so beautiful, and her father wanted to pluck her and ruin her.
An anger swelled through me. A dangerous thing. I had to stay in control. If I showed any defiance, I would deserve the beating he gave me.
Anahit plunged the ladle into the stew and pulled it out brimming with the hearty fare. My husband's finger caressed her hand to her wrist, meeting the hem of her dress. My daughter gasped at the touch, flinching.
Hot stew spilled across his chest and lap. He cursed, bolting to his feet. Rage crossing his face. My daughter whimpered, cowering before his fury. His hand raised up to strike the poor girl. Of course she flinched. He shouldn't have touched her like that. Not even our conservative imam would accept incest.
"Don't hit her!" I gasped out of reflex, unable to stop the anger in me.
My thoughts prickled and burned. I gasped as a dizzy wave washed over me. My husband's hand, halfway to striking our daughter, halted. He blinked his eyes. He shook his head, then his gaze snapped over to me.
I blinked away the fuzzing darkness and... My husband... listened to me. He didn't hit her. But... but... no amount of pleading would stop him. In fact, if you cried and begged him to stop, he would feed on it. It would inspire him to keep disciplining me, to make sure that he had beat any defiance out of me.
His murderous gaze fell on me. I trembled, my heart thundering in my chest as he clenched his fist. He marched around the table. Our son, tall and handsome, his cheeks smooth. He had a rich tan from working outside like his father. He watched, nodding his head in approval as Garegin undid his belt.
"You think I do not have the right to discipline my daughter?" he demanded, his eyes burning.
I should fall to my knees, beg for his forgiveness. I should be a dutiful wife and mitigate the pain that was coming, but... I told him not to hit her and he stopped. My daughter stared at me, a mix of fear and gratitude shining on her face. I had protected her. I had...
Taken control of a person in my life. Just like the text message said.
"Don't hit me!" I gasped as Garegin raised his leather belt to whip me.
