Chapter 1: Brother's Cherry Surprise

Alex strode through the halls of The Institute of Apotheosis. For most technology companies, having a sixteen-year-old walking through it would be unusual. But the Institute wasn’t most companies. They had a higher purpose than just making the newest device or killer app. They were in the business of making gods.

Some might call them a cult.

Because they followed the teachings of their dead founder, Dr. Henry Peter Blavatsky, they found it necessary to keep the running of the company as more of a family business. Alex was the son of the Institute’s president, Deidre Icke.

Another thing that made the Institute unique was the sound of sex echoing through the halls. Alex passed by Department of Scrying, the door open, the moans of two teenage girls echoing from inside. He had a glimpse of Cindy and Mindy, fifteen-year-old twin sisters, kissing each other as they lay atop a table, their father, the director of the department, fucking one of their tight, underage cunts.

Alex’s dick ached and throbbed in his pants. He adjusted himself, picking up the pace on the way to his mother’s office. He needed to get his dick wet. He wanted to slip into his mother’s pussy. To feel the hot, tight sheath of the pussy that had brought him into the world wrapped about his dick.

The first three new gods had taught the world that incest should be practiced, and the Institute had followed their new deity’s teachings with zeal. And right now, Alex was very eager to practice.

He reached his mother’s office, bursting in and groaned at the sight of Deidre Icke bent over her own desk, her ass a bright cherry-red. She let out a groan as Alex’s dad, Deidre’s ex-husband, cracked his hand down on her rump.

As a cheating wife, he had every right to punish her. The last god, Michael Horne, had taught the world that after learning his own wife had an adulterous affair.

Alex groaned at the sight of his mom’s spanked rump.

CRACK!

“Ooh, yes, punish me,” his mother moaned, the President of the Institute submitting to her punishment. Welcoming it. She wiggled her hips, her dark bush glistening with her excitement.

CRACK!

“You’re just in time,” Alexis, Alex’s twin sister, said. She sat naked on a chair, rubbing her underage cunt messy with their father’s cum. “The drone’s just about to drop off the package to the new god.”

“Who is it?” Alex asked, staring at his sister’s cunt. He wanted to fuck her so badly. Ever since incest was revealed, he lusted for her.

But brother and sister incest hadn’t been taught yet. Fathers could enjoy their daughters. Mother’s their sons and daughters. Even sisters could love each other.

“Randy Lyon,” she answered, her fingers digging into her cunt. “I hope he has a sister.”

“Yeah,” Alex groaned, unable to pull his eyes away from that naughty sight.

CRACK!

The Institute hadn’t anticipated what the new gods had taught them, but they were more than willing to follow them. The twelve new gods would change the world. They would reawaken mankind to spirituality.

And the Institute would be their most fervent disciples.

“Watch out on the right flank,” I said into the headset, my PlayStation controller gripped in my hand. “They’re trying to cap the objective.”

“I got it,” my friend, going by pussyhunter69, said over the voice chat. He then laughed. “Bet the cuck didn’t see that coming. Head shot and he’s down!”

I grinned, staring at the screen, dodging the incoming attack from an enemy player. I fired, taking him down. I shifted on the bed, my TV only a few feet before me. The music of the game thundered through my bedroom.

But it wasn’t loud enough.

“Randy, get your goddamn ass down here!” my father bellowed, his voice thundering through the house. “Right the fuck now!”

I sucked in a deep breath, gripping the black controller tight in my hand. “Shit,” I muttered. “Guys, I got to go.”

“Now?” pussyhunter69 groaned. “We’re in the middle of the match.”

“Yeah, my dad’s calling.” I hated living at home. At sixteen, I didn’t have many options. I worked part time, using the money to help pay the bills since my dad had “hurt” his back on the job and now spent his disability drinking as much beer as he could.

Asshole. I did not know what my mother ever saw in him. I could only imagine she would have divorced him if she hadn’t died.

I threw off my headset and shut down the system with the controller. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to the confrontation. Most days, he was too drunk to put the effort into yelling at me or doing something worse.

“You get your goddamn useless ass down here!” he bellowed again, his words half-slurred by the alcohol.

I threw open my door and stepped into the hallway, running a nervous hand through my dark-brown hair. He sounded real drunk and belligerent. The bruises from his last tantrum had faded. I knew I’d have more. He never beat my three sisters.

Only me.

Alison’s door opened. My fifteen-year-old sister thrust her head out, her light-brown hair falling in loose locks about her narrow face. She was my favorite sister. The only one that gave a shit about me. My older sister was a cunt and Livie, the baby of the family, just ignored me unless she needed something from me. But Alison was more than my sister, she was my friend. She was someone I could talk to. Someone that understood.

“Good luck,” she said, her smile tight, that worried look she got tensing her face.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said heading for the stairs. I wanted to drag my feet, to take my time, but that would just make him angrier.

My footsteps thudded down the stairs. I had grown tall, taller than my dad, but I had a lanky build, not as broad-shouldered as him. His years of working construction had given him strength that pounding back beer after beer somehow hadn’t robbed from him.

There was no fucking justice in the world. If there was, Mom would be alive and this asshole would be dead.

I found my dad in the kitchen, my older sister Valarie with him. She had her arms crossed beneath her large breasts contained in a baby-doll t-shirt. The slut dressed to show off her body and our father ... He appreciated it. With her bleached-blonde hair, she looked like our mother, but I doubt our mother ever dressed like a streetwalker. I mean, those shorts were so tight Valarie had a cameltoe.

Fucking bitch. She knew that dad perved on her and used it to her advantage.

“What did I do now?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. My disgust rose in my stomach, a burning churn of acid, at the sight of the bleary-eyed, balding man before me, his white shirt stained and stretching over his beer cut, an inch of flabby, hairy belly exposed thrusting over his jeans.

“This!” he growled, holding up an empty case of Coors, his favorite brand of beer.

“What about it?” I asked.

“There should have been four more beers in here, but there ain’t.”

My eyes flicked to my sister. The eighteen-year-old bitch licked her lips, her hazel eyes smirking.

“I didn’t take them,” I protested. The one thing my father cared about was his beer. But how he could remember how many were in a case, I didn’t know.

Drinking held little appeal to me after seeing it transform my father into this piece of shit before me, his breath reeking of that sour drink, his eyes bloodshot. He took a step towards me and threw the cardboard box to the ground. It bounced on the linoleum floor and slid into my feet.

“Don’t lie to me. Your sister told me she saw you sneaking one yesterday.”

That fucking bitch. I glared at Valarie and she had this smile on her lips, this smirk of triumph. Of course she was sneaking beers. She had one of her friends over. That bitch thought she could get away with anything.

And she could. In that tight top and those ass-hugging shorts dad would let her get away with murder so long as she provided a scapegoat for his anger.

“Goddamn, you are such a whore, Valarie,” I snarled at her, my fists balling.

“Don’t call your sister that!” bellowed Dad. “She’s the only one in the family that does her chores. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have any food to eat, you ungrateful little shit.”

“Alison does the shopping,” I growled. “Valarie doesn’t do shit but dress like a tart and—”

Dad’s fist swung. I raised my arms, taking the blow on my shoulder. Pain throbbed as I stumbled back. He had meaty hands, so thick and perfect for battering me. His putrid breath washed over me as he roared his drunken rage at me.

My heart pounded. My skin grew tense as his next blow took me in the stomach. Air whooshed out of my lungs. I folded in half and fell down to my knees, coughing. I felt Valarie’s eyes watching me. That fucking cunt. This was all her fault and—

Dad kicked me.

“Fuck!” I grunted, rolling onto my back as he followed, his heavy steps booming on the linoleum. I felt so small beneath him. A giant loomed over me.

I covered my head, my entire body tensed and—

The blow hit my lower back. Thudding pain rippled through me. I grit my teeth, grunting. I didn’t want to cry out. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I tensed before each blow, took it with a grunt, my heart screaming in my chest, my blood pounding through my veins. A hot rush beat in my ears as he kicked me over and over.

“Fucking!”

KICK!

“Useless!”

KICK!

“Son!”

KICK!

My anger boiled through me as the pain throbbed through my back. I clenched my fists, fingers biting into my palms. My asshole dad grunted over me. He wheezed like a leaky bellows, sucking in breath, exerting himself for once.

“Don’t touch my beer, fucking little shit,” he grunted and stumbled off.

The linoleum felt cool on my cheek, soothing away the burning pain. I groaned, rolling onto my back. Bruises throbbed on my back. I stared up at the ceiling, I hated living here, wanting to escape. To take some control over things. I wanted to have the strength to fight back.

My phone in my pocket dinged. A text message.

“Fuck,” I groaned, every movement made my body throb. Burning ache rippled through my body. I pulled it out and stared at it, frowning.

CONGRATULATIONS Randy Lyon!!!

You have been chosen by our top team of researchers for our exciting new product! The Halo is the answer to all your life’s needs. Tired of your father’s angry demands? Tired of feeling like you have no control?

Well you’re in luck. Our patented Halo mind control technology will allow you to take control of the people in your life and mold them to your wishes.

I know you are as excited as we are by this amazing possibility. Out of all the billions of people in this world, we think you are one of the TWELVE lucky candidates to utilize this ground-breaking technology.

So congratulations and get ready to seize your new life!

Your package should arrive in moments by drone. Enjoy!

Sincerely,

Deidre Icke, Esq.

President of The Institute of Apotheosis Research

“Fuck,” I groaned, my body too sore to even process whatever stupid shit this message meant. Probably pussyhunter69 getting back at me for dropping the game in the middle of a match.

The pain in my back grew. I wanted to lie here, never moving again, but soon the bruises throbbed to much. With a grunt, I forced myself to stand. Sweat dripped down my face as I stood, bracing against the refrigerator’s handle. I pushed off of it and stumbled forward. My dad already snored in his chair, passed out from the exertion of his beating.

My fist clenched. I could just punch him right in the face and...

My stomach twisted, a clammy writhe rippling through me. He’d just beat me again.

I trudged up the stairs and barreled through my door into my room. I collapsed on my bed, lying on my belly. I rested my head on my pillow, trying to ignore the pulsing aches of the bruises on my back. I’d feel this beating for days.

“Fucking Valarie,” I muttered.

The doorbell rang.

I didn’t give a shit.

I just stared at my TV, a rectangular glare from my window shining in the upper right corner. I didn’t have the strength to do anything. Frustrated pain rose through me, stinging my eyes. I squeezed them shut, fighting the emotion wanting to spill out of me. The back of my throat burned. My teeth ground together.

“You got a package,” Alison said.

“What?” I opened my eyes to see my sister walking in through my open door, wearing a pair of jeans and a frilly, pink shirt. She closed it behind her with a push of her sock-clad foot.

“A package,” she said, holding a brown box in it. “I think a drone delivered it. I thought I saw it flying over the Wilson’s house.”

Drone? The text message popped into my mind. But I just didn’t care because I saw what was on the pack: the bright blue ice pack.

Alison set the box on the floor then she scooped off the ice pack and pulled up my t-shirt. She winced, shaking her head, her eyes growing watery. She placed the pack down on one of those pulsing, throbbing centers of hurt on my back.

Ice soothed it away. I groaned at the numbing touch. “Thanks.”

“It makes me so angry that he does that to you,” she said, sitting on the bed beside her. “I know you didn’t steal that beer.”

“Yeah, well, Valarie shook her tits at dad and blamed it all on me,” I groaned.

Alison made a disgruntled sound from her throat.

“You shouldn’t stick around here,” she said. “You have a job. You could find your own place. Dad wouldn’t care.”

“And who’s going to take his beatings then?” I stared at her. “Valarie shakes her tits, and Livie just has to flutter her eyes and cry like a baby.”

Alison gave me such a sad smile. Her eyes swam with liquid emotion. She looked away, clearing her throat. Then she picked up the package and pulled it onto her lap. She stroked the cardboard, brushing the packing tape sealing it closed.

“It’s so unusual,” she said after a moment, her voice strained, tight. “There’s no return address on here. No shipping labels. Just your name.”

“Weird,” I grunted, wanting to hug her, but that meant moving. And the ice pack felt so amazing, the cold seeping through my back, driving back the heat.

“Well, let’s see what it is,” my sister said.

Alex smiled as the feed on his mother’s computer appeared. The drone’s had installed the spy cameras through the new god’s house. Alexis took his hand, giving it a squeeze, the fraternal twins eager to see what their new god had to teach.

Their mother sat, gingerly, at her computer, manipulating the cameras. She cycled it through the house, new security camera feeds flashing across the screen. A man with a beer gut snored on a recliner appeared in one, the TV playing before him. A fourteen-year-old girl lay on her back, texting on her phone in the next. Then an older girl, eighteen with big tits and bleached-blonde hair, walked out the front door.

“There he is,” Deidre Icke said on the next shift. She pointed at the god lying on his stomach on his bad, an ice pack on his back. A girl his age, both fifteen or sixteen, sat beside him. “Randy Lyon and his middle sister, Alison.”

“He has a sister?” Alexis said.

“Three,” their mother answered.

“Well, let’s see what it is,” Alison said, her words sounding tinny through the cheap computer speakers. She ran her hands across the box the Institute sent Randy, holding it on her lap.

“Please, please, reveal it,” prayed the naked Alexis, making her teenage-firm breasts jiggle.

“It’s a mind control device,” I said, remembering what the text message said as my sister pried at the tape sealing the strange package closed.

“Uh-huh. Been ordering dumb stuff off the back of a comic book again?” The tape ripped, taking strips of cardboard with it. “Like those X-ray glasses.”

“I was ten,” I said with a flush. Mom was still alive then and Dad still worked. “I wouldn’t waste money on something like that now.”

“Yeah, it’s not a video game,” she said, amusement in her voice.

My cheeks warmed more. I shifted and pushed down the twisting guilt. I worked a lot of overtime to buy my PlayStation 4.

“Well, if you didn’t order it,” she said, pulling out a piece of Styrofoam and setting it aside, “then how do you know what this is?”

“Text message. A weird one. I thought it was a prank from one of my friends.”

“Right, a prank,” she said, pulling out a gold ring that looked like a circlet, sized big enough to fit my head. She furrowed her brow, staring at it. “Do you think I’m that gullible, Randy?”

“Well, you did believe me when I told you that the X-ray glasses worked but couldn’t see through metal.”

She smiled. “I was nine. And I didn’t want you to see my panties.”

“Mom did not appreciate you running around with her baking sheets covering your body.”

My sister giggled for a moment, twisting the golden ring between her fingers. “No, she did not.”

“So you’re gullible.”

“I was nine,” she said, giving me a direct look. “You’re the one that bought them. And since you’re eleven months older than me, you should have known better.” Then, before I could object, she placed the golden ring on my head.

I gasped at the heat swelling about my head. Alison gave a shriek and thru herself back so hard that she fell off my bed. The band prickled about my skull. My brain fuzzed for a moment. My entire body shook and the pain ... The throbbing, aching, pulsing bruises across my body, the ones not numbed by the ice pack, faded away. The soreness vanished.

“I-it melted,” she gasped. “It melted into your head.”

“What?” My thoughts prickled.

“It just glowed for a moment and then ... dissolved into your head.”

I sat up, the ice pack falling off my back. I grabbed my head, running my hands through my hair, searching for the gold ring. I felt her set it on me. And ... Nothing. My fingers stroked through my short, dark hair. Frown, I looked around on the bed for it. it must have fallen off. It couldn’t have melted into me.

“Stop trying to prank me,” I said, the prickles rippling across my mind. “Where did it go?”

“I’m not pranking you,” my sister said, her voice tight. “It melted into your head.” She grabbed her own temples. “How are you making me talk. I can feel you ... In my head!”

“What?” Prickling thoughts.

“You’re ... making me speak,” she said.

I frowned at her then shook my head. “Right, right, the mind-control. How far are you going to commit to this?” I rubbed my head, these fuzzing tingles were getting annoying.

“I don’t have a choice,” she said, sitting up. “Who sent this to you?” She grabbed the box and pulled out an instruction manual. “The Institute of Apotheosis? What is that?”

“Apotheosis means falling towards divinity,” I said. “It’s a Greek term for something becoming a god.”

“You are such a nerd,” Alison said, her eyes flicking to a bookshelf covered in Brandon Sanderson, Steven Erikson, R.A. Salvatore, Kevin J. Anderson, Robert Jordan, R. Scott Bakker, and Terry Goodkind books. Then she opened the manual and flipped through it, her eyebrows furrowing.

“What?” I asked her, a tiny prickle dancing on my thoughts, not as bad as the last ones.

“It says the halo contained nanomachines that have bonded with your mind. It gives you the power to project your brainwaves onto another person and control them.” She looked up at me. “Why would they send this to you? I mean, you’re my brother. You’re nothing special or important.”

“Because I’m a nerd,” I said, shrugging. What game was she up to? How far would she take this? I had to find out. “Stand on one foot.”

My thoughts buzzed worse.

She hopped up to her feet and then put all her weight on her right, shifting around as she clutched the manual. She balanced, staring at me, her face a weird mix of emotions, almost fear and almost ... awe.