Miranda Townsworth sat on a park bench, idly sipping a mocha latte purchased from Merriwinter University's cafe. She tried to concentrate on the textbook she needed to be reading, but her mind belonged to Kira, and the warmth of the water she'd been fucked in. The experience bore itself into her mind, occupying her thoughts on some level at all times. The redheaded dominatrix had proven herself every bit as talented as she was sexy, which, naturally, only furthered to enhance her sexiness. It was a vicious cycle that ran circles around Miranda, driving the poor ravenette to the conclusion that she could simply give up on her doctorate and go be Kira's concubine forever.

Dead, crispy leaves of various colors rained down on Miranda during the crisp November day. She ignored the urgings of some pigeons, who desperately wanted the remains of the bagel she'd neglected, and tried to focus her attention on the book's content. Something about a study on national origin affecting the chance of the neo gene being present in a child...she couldn't really make it out. Sighing, she shook her head free again of the omnipresent thoughts of soaked red hair and slippery pale flesh, and had almost fully concentrated again when a dull thudding noise woke her from her stupor. Seth was walking down the path, looking every part the monster he did before, walking slowly down a bike path that was clearly not made for gamma neo humans. Slumping forward as his new form forced him to, he pocketed a humorously small black journal and grinned an asymmetrical, toothy smile at his friend.

“Well, well,” Seth grumbled in his deep, nigh-demonic voice. “You're still in afterglow.”

Miranda blushed and closed her book, craning her neck to meet the reptilian goliath in the eye. “I—you don't know what she's like, Seth,” Miranda said, playing with her hair. “I've yet to think of a word or phrase that would accurately portray it. Poetry would not do it justice. Literally indescribable.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that,” Seth said. He sat down on the opposite end of the bench, making the whole thing creak rather strenuously under his weight. “I expected her to fuck like a demon, but. How does she treat you?”

“Oh, perfect. The right combination of flirty, silly, and caring. She's ideal...I'm smitten, what can I say,” Miranda said, rolling her eyes at her own childish inhibitions. She was giddy as a schoolgirl. “It's so weird. After Tiffany, and fuckin' Jezebelle, you think I'd be less eager to throw my heart at somebody.”

“You did promise me you'd go slow with this one, but it sounds like you're already in love. If you didn't ask me down here to confess a problem, what is it? I could be more easily accessed from my computer...I don't...really like to...go out, right now,” Seth mumbled. Miranda bit her lip in apology.

“Because, I was hoping to give you these,” Miranda said, pulling out several photos, far less explicit than the ones she chose to keep for herself, and showing them to Seth. “See the peridot necklace? I know I've seen that before, somewhere, and Kira has it. Could I bribe you to look it up for me, see what you could find? It looks really old, and I'd like to replace the chain for her for Christmas, if I could.”

“Uh, sure,” Seth said, taking the pictures and clumsily stuffing them into the pocket of his stretched-out, torn coat. The coat further tore on one of his spines and he cursed. “I could do that. Dunno what you're expecting, but, sure. Got something to ask you, as well. Might be hard to imagine, but I'm trying to reverse, uh,” Seth grimaced and gestured to his body. “This...”

Miranda cocked her head in mock confusion. “What! Really? I thought you liked looking like fucking Diablo.”

Seth laughed, a low, rumbling sound at his size. “I need to be absolutely certain of the formula this time, so if you could stop by the lab some point either tomorrow or the day after, I could take a blood sample from you and run some tests on other neo genes.”

“Oh, sure, yeah, no problem.” Miranda nodded. Seth grinned at her and leaned against the bench. Rather than terrify the birds, they flew up and perched on his spines, cooing softly. Miranda rose an eyebrow and glanced at him; he shrugged.

“Birds love me like this. I don't understand.” He shook his head in confusion and stood up, dusting himself off. “I'm going to go to the lab, and then head home. Hit me up online if you wanna chat, ok? I'm not much of a fan of being outside when I'm like this.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Miranda said with a smile. “See you later, and thanks again.”

She watched Seth leave, his spiky tail dragging along behind him, the pigeons still perched on his large back spines. Shaking her head in bewilderment, she hoped he could reverse what he'd done to himself. It was bad enough the history the gammas had, and the reputations that followed them. She reached for her textbook, but allowed herself an indulgent glance at the photos in her phone, of a naked, soaked redhead, grinning that infuriating smirk...

*** *** ***

Walter Durgess never considered himself a religious man. His parents revered the Pantheon, but Walter himself had always found it a bit too constricting, the stories more than far-fetched. Still, his recent actions had taken a toll on him over the last few weeks, and he needed to come clean to somebody. Even if it wasn't his fault, he'd definitely participated, but he couldn't imagine what he might have done if one of those girls had actually died. Jimmy had gone too far. The Gods were watching when they had done that deed, and they were watching him now. He felt eyes on him at all times. Something was coming for him.

These thoughts had taken him out of work that day and up the stairs of Merriwinter's cathedral. Twin stained glass windows, one featuring the sun over a forest, the other the moon over a lake, dwarfed him in their enormous complexity. Nine stairs up, and Walter stood at the heavy wooden doors. He took in a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and entered the building. With a whoosh, the pressure in the air was not only heard but felt, and feeling small and insignificant, Walter entered the massive stone structure. Around him, stained glass told the most familiar stories, but the statues of the Pantheon unnerved him. Made of marble, they towered over him, looking down upon him with soft expressions like a parent beholding their child, save one. It was this one that Walter went up to; a thirty-foot-tall statue of a beautiful woman with a harsh, indifferent expression. Walter looked up at the visage of Irae, Goddess of Judgment, and gulped at his decision to confront her.

He quickly found a priest, and requested a confessional, which the priest was happy to oblige. He went off to fetch another, and Walter sat in one side of the booth, timorously tapping a rhythm on the old wood of the chamber. Moments later, the door on the other side opened and closed, and a person sat down, the faint clinkling of holy symbols audible. Walter sighed and brushed his whispy brown hair aside, and steeled himself once more.

“Relax, my son, all are equal in the eyes of Irae. You have something to confess?” The Reverend said in a deep, calming voice.

“Yes, F-Father, I. Well, my friends and I, we...” Walter sighed and grit his teeth. “We assaulted...beat, I mean, not...sexually...two girls coming out of a diner, two Unbound girls...”

“Neo human girls, my son. Unbound is an outdated term,” The priest said in an alarmed voice. “You hurt these women?”

“F-Four of us, yeah. We...we hurt them pretty bad. It was my friend's idea, but...but I acknowledge my actions were my own, and I can only blame myself.”

The priest was silent for a moment, and then spoke. “You are brave to admit this. Your actions were, at the very least, deplorable and worthy of severe punishment. You seek atonement?”

“Yes, sir, I...I really can't live with myself, having done what I'd done,” Walter replied, on the verge of tears. It felt amazing to speak of this, but he knew he'd be going to prison. “Should turn myself in, shouldn't I...” He said, his voice cracking.

“That'd be step one, yes,” The priest said. “Do this. Serve your time. Learn from your mistakes. When possible, seek the girls you hurt. Apologize, beg their forgiveness. They may not give it to you. This is something you must understand.”

“Yes, Father, I...” Walter cried for a moment, and found his resolve. “Yes. I'll go...I'll go turn myself in.” He exited the booth, wiped away his tears, and made for the door. Every step felt like a forced march through a quagmire. His legs were heavy, his chest pounding with fear and regret. Every time he passed a statue, the eyes felt less friendly, less welcoming; each one screamed his flaws at him. As he exited the structure, the sun felt colder, the wind more bitter. He needed to do this. It needed to stop. Walter stepped down the nine stairs, turning back towards his car...

“Walter? Walter Durgess?” A voice asked. London accent. Feminine. Tinted by age and experience. Walter turned and gulped. The owner of the voice was astonishingly pretty. Deep red curls tumbled down the sides of her angular face, her jawline alone worthy of praise. Crimson lips curled in a smile, and eyes the color of the purest emeralds met his brown irises. She wore a long black, clingy dress that lightly rippled in the November air, and smiled sweetly. At this smile, warmth rushed into Walter. The pain of what he'd done washed away, and his worries became distant memories. Sweet scent flooded him, a potent scent like rain on fresh soil, and it swept all his attention towards this girl, this gorgeous woman. Flashes of impossible things flew through his mind; her joy at gifts he'd bring her, the sweet laughter at his jokes at dinner, the feel of the silky warmth that her sublime body promised. These images, these lying dreams played so fast in Walter's mind that he was left delirious, wanting so badly to know this woman he'd just met down to her very core. Before this moment, Walter had never been in love; now, he was a profound believer in love at first sight. He tried to respond, but mumbled, so the exquisite girl grinned a smile that almost made the man drop to his knees and weep.

“My name is Doctor Northvale, I am doing an experiment on human behavior in stressed social situations,” The redhead explained calmly. “The pay is two hundred dollars for one experiment, and participating in this would greatly benefit local neo human charities.” She smiled again and gestured towards a taxi. “If you would accompany me to my laboratory, I would be most sincerely appreciative.”

Walter stammered. This was his chance! The Gods had given him a golden opportunity to right his wrongs, and rewarded his honesty with this presence of what must be an angel of theirs. He took the chance, eagerly accepting the girl's offer. Questions screamed in his head, who are you, how did you find me, why me, exactly, but they were all drowned out by the scent of petrichor and the idea of being in the presence of this goddess for just another moment. The taxi drove down the street to meet Walter and Dr. Northvale, and she grinned again as she held open the door.

“Please, if you'll enter. We have much to accomplish,” She said, twirling her hair in her fingers.