The Cult of Three Questions

Author's Note: This story's action is incest/taboo driven by elements of supernatural corruption and mind control. To read about the downfall of Sonja and Michaela please read Chapter 1 - The Master Bedroom. (At some point I will find a way to retitle it to the new format.)

All characters are 18 or older.

Sonja and Michaela Anderson, mother and daughter, High Priestess and Acolyte, joyful slaves to a Master whose name could not be heard by mortal ears, prepared to leave the house where their destinies had been re-written and to go forth to spread the license of sexuality that came with service to Him.

They had experimented with their power over their bodies. Sonja kept the shape the Master had given her, an eye catching bust over a distinct waist into soft hips ready for a lover to grab. She returned subtle crows feet and laugh lines to her face having always felt they had been a rite of passage into a wiser stage of womanhood. In keeping with that she made her hair the color of steel, yet soft, lustrous and not the least bit wiry. She felt the mantle of High Priestess of the Master about her, and this nude body was all the vestments she would ever need.

Michaela experimented more widely with her body. Wild changes to her hair color and skin tone, up and down with her measurements from near boyish to cartoonishly buxom and wasp-waisted. She manifested piercings and summoned tattoos until she made her mother laugh at the skin ink animals chasing one another across her body. At the end Sonja had to remind her that they needed to return to the spaces of their old lives, so Michaela returned to her original shape with improvements where she had hoped to see her gym time be more productive.

After one last deep kiss, which threatened to turn into another celebration of their new purpose, they clad themselves in His ectoplasm, the stuff of the spirit worlds that would shape itself however they wished and could be dispersed with just a thought. When they stepped out the front door they wore what appeared to be the same outfits they had before only they felt silken and sensuous. With the powers the Master gave them over the senses of mortals they could have been completely naked yet overlooked by all, but smaller and simpler exercises of power was the Master's will.

The stood on the front steps of the old house, hand in hand, looking out over the busy city neighborhood.

"So many people, mother," said Michaela with eagerness in her voice, "how shall we bring His wisdom to them all?"

"It will not be our work alone, daughter. We shall teach teachers, who shall teach more until all shall know."

"How do we begin? Where will we start spreading His gift?"

Sonja smiled.

"Charity, as always, is best begun at home."

<----------------------------------------->

"Dude, those are some awesome scans you've been sending over."

Shane Anderson was at the kitchen counter, video conferencing with his best friend Vic, calling from Athens, while swiping through thumbnails of three dimensional scans of a dozen statues and busts with one hand. With the other he was just about to take in another scoop from a bowl of early afternoon cereal.

"They came out real good for a handheld scanner," said Vic, who was sitting in front of a window showing a skyline settling into twilight. "Wait until you see the ultra hi-res files. I'd upload them but the wi-fi in the hotel sucks. I'd probably be home before it finished."

"No, worries. These are detailed enough to start blocking the animations." Shane and Vic were on vacation from college. They had been working on a project to create an animated short set during the Mycenaean Age. The short term goal was to impress film schools, but guys like them had made it big before, so why not dream big?

"I'm telling you, man, you're the one that should be here. Half the time I'm having to look up just who I'm looking at. You could be giving these guides lessons."

Shane nodded. He had always been fascinated by art and had been drawing from a young age. Classical sculptures and Renaissance masters were his favorites, and as a kid he augmented that with an encyclopedic knowledge of Greek and Roman myths. Where boys his age would go on about dinosaurs, he was spouting off about Hercules and the Olympians.

"Yeah, but your dad is the one with the museum connections and the guilty conscience."

Vic rolled his eyes.

"Well, as always, dad starts and ends with the money. I've had more access to private artworks than the man himself."

Shane just nodded along to that. Vic practically never saw his father since he left Vic's mother for trophy wife number 2. Shane at least saw his father's face maybe six times a year while he was managing major construction projects abroad. The money was good enough for his family to have a house big enough for a room for each of the six kids, a pool, and a basement gym. Not to mention putting them all through college.

"Sorry to hear that. Been checking any of the mobile works of art walking around there?" Shane asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Just say women, dude." Vic answered. The wi-fi was good enough that the picture picked up his blushing. "I don't know enough Greek to even try."

"Start with something in Greek, and maybe she'll know enough English to take the load off you."

Shane heard the garage door open. He didn't expect his mom and sister to be back so soon. They said they were going to mom's new house flip, and then shopping for Michaela's dorm room. Michaela was the only one of his brothers and sisters he could refer to as "little” being the second youngest himself.

"Hey, man, sounds like my mom's home. I'm gonna let you go."

"Yeah, I should get going. I have a dinner meeting with one of dad's museum friends to arrange for the next collection visit. Say hi to your sister for me."

"I'll punch you for that later since there's an ocean in the way. Catch you later."

Shane hit the end button as Sonja entered the kitchen from the garage.

"Hey, mom," said Shane.

"Hi, sweetie," she replied. "Were you on the phone with someone?"

Shane was about to drink the milk from the cereal bowl when he looked up from the computer enough to see his mother. His hand simply stopped as he had to do a double take.

"Did you get your hair done?" he asked.

"Good eye," Sonja said, "that will serve you well when you get married. Michaela and I decided to do a girls' day at the spa and makeovers rather than work on the house."

Shane was wracking his brain, trying to recall if his mother's hair had been that long earlier that morning.

Must have been,

he thought.

"I like that color," he said.

"Thank you! I talked it over with the stylist and just thought, 'Everyone is getting older, might as well make it look good.'"

"You're right, it does really look good... Oh God! You are even more redhead!" Shane's first thought was savagely derailed when his little sister Michaela came bouncing out of the garage. She'd had enough red in her strawberry blonde hair growing up that Shane would make the jokes about fiery temper, which Michaela inevitably retaliated upon thereby proving his point. Now the red was a definite auburn.

"Yep, deal with it. More red, more danger." She stopped at the refrigerator for a soda, popped it open, and leaned back against a cabinet door as she took a drink.

Shane had to admit to himself that she did look good with that color. Somehow it made her skin seem fairer and brought out the cute freckles she had. Even the ones along her throat leading down to the collar of the tight t-shirt she was wearing.

Shane had to shake his head to clear it of where it was threatening to go. Michaela was watching him, a sly smile on her lips as she brought the can up for another sip. She kept his eye contact for less than a second too long for a sister.

Michaela turned to her mother.

"I'll be up in my room if you need me," she said. "And Shane? Say hi to Vic for me next time you talk to him."

"Uh, what?" asked Shane, trying to pull his brain back from images a bother shouldn't be imagining about his sister. But Michaela was already heading down the hall. Shane couldn't keep his eyes from her backside and how it filled her yoga pants.

"Want me to take that bowl for you, honey?"

Shane felt himself yet again forcibly ejected from inappropriate thoughts. His mother was standing right next to him with a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, yes, thanks." There was something about his mother's eyes, some thing captivating. But she looked down to the bowl he was handing her, and his eyes traveled down as well. He found himself looking down onto his mother's breasts, the first two buttons of her blouse undone, revealing a surprising amount of lightly tanned cleavage.

"You're welcome," she said. As she turned toward the sink her hand traced down ever so lightly off his t-shirt sleeve and onto bare skin. Shane shivered at the touch.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

he thought.

"I think I'll go up to my room too," he said, planning a hasty retreat.

"Shane?"

"What?!" he yelled, his nerves so rattled he lost control of his voice.

"Your computer?" Sonja was holding his tablet, leaning over the counter. The pose opened even more of her cleavage to his eyes.

"Oh, thanks," he mumbled. He took the computer, trying and failing to tear his eyes away from her bosom. He spun quickly and ran up the stairs. He didn't look back, and missed his mother's appraising look and her tongue poking out just enough to lick her lips.

<----------------------------------------->

I should be getting more sleep,

Shane thought to himself,

that or laid.

It was two days later, and he was sitting at his desktop computer, trying to focus on the wire frame figures on the screen. Instead, despite his best efforts, his mind kept calling up memories of what he was coming dangerously close to conceding were hallucinations. He would catch sight of his naked sister from the corner of his eye only to snap his head around to see she was wearing something that by color or form could have created that impression. Another time he walked into the kitchen and saw his mother feeling up Michaela's breast. But then he blinked and realized that Michaela's back was to him and Sonja's hand was innocently on her back.

He had tried watching porn to replace the newly sexualized images of his sister and mother. He would masturbate only to have the fantasy morph into idealized images of them just before his release.

A wave of fatigue hit him. Shane looked to the clock and saw it was nearly one in the morning. He let a big yawn come, closing his eyes as he drew the breath in and out. His vision was hazy when he opened them again.

Shane stood and turned for his bed when a sound caught his ear. The house was quiet, and a moment later it came again. A breathy moan, coming from the hallway outside his door. He turned the knob, not recalling having walked across the room, and opened the door. The hallway was completely dark, so much so that he could not see the far wall.

Shane heard the moan again. He stepped out of the door into the darkness. The sounds were coming from the only light to be seen, a square of light flickering as if it was the entryway to some firelit space. Neither the fact that the geometry of the space he was in did not match his house, nor that he was stepping on stone pavers registered as not right in his fuzzy thinking.

The sounds became clearer. Cries of pleasure in feminine voices positively rang through the dark space in which he walked. Underneath the moans and gasps he could hear the cadence of chanting but not make out what was being said.

He walked on. Soon he could see the flag stones he was walking on and that the light came from between two columns more massive than the redwood trees his family had visited years ago.

Shane continued walking. He passed between the pillars and found himself on a mezzanine of a cyclopean temple, vaster than any stadium he had experienced. Hundreds of feet below him on the floor were multitudes of people variously kneeling, holding their arms outward, chanting in Greek; or they were writhing together in every possible variety of sexual congress.

At the front of the temple were two giant figures that could only have been thirty foot tall statues animated like Pygmalian's Galatea. One was an Aphrodite carved of white marble flecked with red, the other was Gaia made of a brown stone with gray lichen covering her like hair. The two had their legs entwined, grinding their sexes against one another. The stone of their forms molded and shook like flesh, and their cries had become great thunderous blasts.

Finally, standing above the statues so tall that Shane had to look up from even his elevated position to see its face, was a figure of midnight darkness. The darkness flowed like smoke, nothing ever made clear but Shane felt it was absolutely feminine.

Shane looked up and found glowing red eyes regarding him. Its presence filled his mind, and he knew that She was a forgotten titan, the very origin of lust. Her presence suffused his mind with such bliss that he would have stepped from the ledge and been happy to live the rest of his life filled with it before he struck the floor.

Just then the goddesses joined the chant, and Shane could make out part of it.

Chaire!

, Hail! Then a word that did not fall right upon his ear, as if it was too much for him to hear. His mind gave up the attempt and simply provided "The Mistress" in its place.

Come to me when you awaken,

said a feminine voice, ancient beyond the entire world. She gestured to the two goddesses locked in the throws of their passion. It was she that had molded the goddesses before her to carry her word.

They shall show you the way. Then we shall show the world the way.

The titanic form reached out an indistinct had toward him. The mere fingertip enveloped Shane and he was filled with a rapture that locked his body and made thought impossible.

Shane lurched upright from where he had fallen asleep upon his computer desk. The spasms of pleasure still wracked him, and he could feel himself coming in his shorts. He needed several minutes to compose his mind and convince himself that he had had one hell of a vivid dream.

He then got out of his chair, grabbed a new pair of shorts, and headed for the bathroom. Just outside the door he paused to note the hallway was exactly as it should be, all the doors in their places and carpet on the floor. For an instant he thought he heard a woman's moan, but he immediately dismissed it as a memory of the dream and went to clean himself.

<----------------------------------------->

Shane didn't remember any dreams from the rest of the night, sleeping in to his accustomed 10 am. That one dream lingered. He'd never had one so vivid, the image of the goddesses entwined most of all. There was a secret to it that literally tantalized him, dancing away just as he was about to put his finger on it.

He managed to slip out to the kitchen for his breakfast without any strange visions of his sister or mother. Snagging a bowl of cereal he slunk back to his room and his drawing station. He called up the scans Vic had sent of a statue of Hera and got to work mapping animation points onto them. The work was starting to flow for him when there was a knock at his door.

"Dammit," he muttered. "Yeah" louder.

"Shane, may I come in and ask you something?" It was Michaela.

Despite himself Shane was moved by her uncertain tone. That and her even knocking, really. Just barging in had been her habit forever up to one incident a few years previously when she learned the hard way about teenage boys and shut bedroom doors. She hadn't tried entering his room since.

"OK, you may enter." Shane set the mouse aside and turned to the door.

Michaela opened the door barely enough to slip through, taking a last surreptitious glance back into the hallway. She was wearing a long terrycloth bathrobe.

"Think we can get some more light in here for a minute?" she asked.

Shane preferred to keep the lights dim while he was working to where his mother referred to his room as "the cave".

"Sure, you know where the switch is."

"How about the blinds? When was the last time you got sunlight?"

"Alright, but these demands might cut your visit short," Shane groused, but he still stretched out enough to get the rod to twist open the blinds.

"You've done those figure drawing classes, right? The ones with the models?"

"I've done one. Why do you ask?"

Michaela took in a deep breath, as if trying to muster her courage.

"Do you think I could do one of those?"

This confused Shane.

"They try to limit those classes to serious art students. Too many pervs claim to be art students to stare at naked people. Since when have you been drawing?"

Another deep breath and a heavy swallow.

"I meant as a model. Could you tell me if I'm pretty enough to be a model?"

Shane opened his mouth to say that they hire more than pretty people to model, when Michaela opened her robe, and dropped it off her shoulders to fall to the floor.

She was naked underneath. Michaela held her right arm across her breasts in an incomplete pose of modesty, leaving her rosy left nipple open to his eyes. Shane remembered wondering if her freckles went down over them. Her breasts had a light dusting of freckles over what Shane thought were generous handfuls. Her flanks, hips, and thighs were long graceful lines with the defined curves of a classically fit feminine form. Michaela had her hips turned slightly to her left, her right leg brought up onto her toes, and her left hand demurely hiding her sex from her brother's view.

The whole time she had her face cast downward, as if afraid to look at Shane.

"Be honest," she said, "if I wasn't your sister would you want to see me in one of your classes?"

Shane's mouth flapped open and closed a couple of times before he could get it to make words.

"Um, absolutely."

She finally looked up and met Shane's eyes.

"You really think so?"

"Really. I can't imagine a classical sculptor that wouldn't give his left nut to carve a statue of you."

Michaela smiled as if he had taken a huge weight off of her. She pulled the robe back over herself. The full frontal view of her body as she moved her hands overwhelmed his thinking brain from noticing that she hadn't grabbed the robe from the floor first.

"Thank you, Shane. That really means a lot. Thank you." Michaela, clutching the robe closed around her stepped across the room and gave Shane a kiss on his cheek.

She went back to the door and opened it just enough to peek outside for their mother.

Michaela took on last look back, her eyes dropping down to his lap for a brief second.

"Thank you," she said again and slipped out, shutting the door behind her. Sonja was at the end of the hall by her bedroom door. Michaela met her eye and gave her mother a satisfied smile.

"Well done, daughter," whispered Sonja.

Back in his room, Shane grabbed his lotion and tissues to beat one out. This time, he didn't even try to not picture his sister.

<----------------------------------------->

Shane strode an aisle on the floor of the temple of the Mistress. He felt strong, assured. He glanced down at his body and saw a physique worthy of Adonis, a broad chest and narrow hips. He was naked except for a wisp of black smoke about his loins. He knew it mattered only so much as he wished it to.

All about him on either side of the aisle were groups of people having sex, making love, or simply fucking. On closer inspection, each of the groups was one person patiently teaching the ways of pleasure to their naive students. And so the wisdom of the Mistress was being spread.