Choose Your Own Transformation Cult of You (incomplete)

[Philbill]

There are 4 parts to this story but I seem to have one of them misplaced. The story is four people changing each told from their perspective and the aftermath (which I do have) so you should be able to enjoy it even though it isn't complete.


Choose Your Own Transformation The Cult of You Aurora

AURORA COOPER

“Okay, laptops open,” Wesley Coleman commands to the other three people in the room — Me, Carlos Mendoza, and Max Reed. “Detention lasts an hour. We have an hour to do what we came here to do. We picked the story that would most likely to affect the targets more than ourselves, but you know the risks. We crunched the variables as best as we could from what we know, but this is not an exact science. It’s for all intents and purposes magic.”

Max chimes in, “To quote Arthur C. Clarke, ‘Magic’s just science that we don’t understand yet.’”

“And we don’t understand this,” Carlos adds. “So, closer to magic than science for us.”

“If,” I say, “If it’s all not just a big prank. And that’s a pretty big if, if you ask me.”

“All available data backs up that this is not just some random site or some urban myth prank type thing,” Wesley chirps back, not enjoying being challenged, least of all by me. “Worst case scenario, we spend some time reading and choosing the paths of these stories and nothing happens beyond simple entertainment. However, we’re on the clock in case of other more interesting things and the clock keeps on ticking as we continue to rehash this conversation.”

It’s Wesley’s research.

It’s his plan.

We’ve talked it through before, but here we are on the verge of actually doing something with it.

As the smallest, and by his own admission the nerdiest, member of our little quartet, he’s taken the brunt of their nastiness. He’s endured the most swirlies. He’s been mocked more than anyone else and more publicly at that.

I know he’s not completely keen on my involvement because my assigned target — my “story companion” — just so happens to be my ex-boyfriend Damian. Apparently, the boys in my new group had issues with “taking on” a dude and chose partners based on keeping the pairings opposite sex pairings. I defected away from Damian, Cora, Brianna and Faith, having no desire to continue being friends with a group of bullies or the girlfriend one particular bully. It just seemed like an outdated way of thinking and generally unpleasant and unkind. I’d always been the “go along with the group” type of person, not really caring that I’d fallen in with a potentially bad group. I evolved beyond that sometime during the summer between junior and senior years, breaking up with Damian and befriending this trio in the hopes of not only evening the numbers, but in some small way attempting to make amends. They’ve generally accepted me, though sometimes I think that’s just because they like counting a pretty girl amongst their ranks. They’ve introduced me to all kinds of cool things — movies, tv shows, comic books, and anime.

As the only girl in the group, I often feel a bit like Smurfette. The other three maintain a hands-off truce to keep the group’s equilibrium safe from jealousy. That doesn’t stop them from looking at me in “that” way whenever they think I won’t notice. I never tell them that, despite being great friends, none of them are my type so the truce isn’t necessary. I guess all boys have an elevated self-opinion, nerds and jocks alike. I mean, Damian was with Cora before me and hooked up with Brianna when I left him. It’s honestly only a matter of time before he goes after Faith, the last girl in his quartet and only remaining one he hasn’t hooked up with.

I’ve admitted changed a lot since switching teams. I’m even wearing a Sailor Moon t-shirt, something that I wasn’t aware of less than a year ago and would definitely not have in my wardrobe. The nice thing about my new friends is the serious lack of judgment. I don’t have to have perfect hair and makeup and wardrobe for their approval. I just have to show up and be friendly. It’s a lot less work and a lot less stress. My grades have even improved and I’m now on course for my pick of universities with a good chance at scholarships.

And now, as payment for their ongoing friendship, I’m taking part in this revenge plan I barely understand as an act of faith.

I have to open some sort of Choose Your Own Adventure story site.

I have to select the story “The Cult of You” and then, when prompted, bring Damian Long into the tale.

I do just that, shivering like someone’s walking over my grave when the story finally appears on my screen and, with that unexpected feeling, wonder what exactly I’ve signed on for.

Your lead acolyte Damian approaches you reverently. “Are you excited? It’s not every day you start a new religion.”

“People need something to believe in. It’s time something was created that could endure with a more positive impact for once,” you say with purposeful conviction.

“So I take it, you’ve decided then? You’ve decided what is to be the central tenet of this new religion?”

Aurora, do you —

Found it with love as the basis

Found it with fear as the basis

Found it with discipline as the basis

Found it with intellect as the basis

My first crossroad. My first choice. Fear seems dangerous, but so does love. If there’s something my sloppy-ass ex needs, though, it’s discipline.

I select — Found it with discipline as the basis.

I take in a deep breath and assess myself.

Do I feel different?

Not really.

I’ve always been an assertive type, so it makes total sense that I would want to have as much control as possible over how other people behave. And I’m sure Damian is in the next room over, slouching and debating whether he should stick with Brianna or finally make the leap over to Faith. Leap of Faith. That’s funny. Of course, I’d love to catch him mid-leap and take him down, to beat and berate him and establish dominance.

I squeeze my legs together tightly.

Whenever my thoughts go to dominance, I always get a little squishy down there.

Time to focus back on this story…

Acolyte Damian kneels in submission at your feet, as is customary for all of your followers, as small a number as that may currently be. But you have plans to expand, to lure new members under your benevolent wings.

Aurora, do you —

Lure them in with promises of sex

Lure them in with promises of clarity

Lure them in with promises of transcendence

Lure them in with promises of order

I don’t want to link sex and Damian together, regardless of whether this story actually impacts the real world or not, so that’s entirely off the table. Transcendence sounds like we’re all going to drink poison together — a little too cult-y for my tastes. I’m down to order and clarity. Order is easily achieved, so I don’t know that anyone is going to be lured by that.

I select — Lure them in with promises of clarity.

I’m thinking about that line from Pulp Fiction. “I had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.”

I always wondered what that meant and what that felt like, but now I know.

And knowing is a lot more than half the battle.

I’m keenly aware that this site, all of the content on this site — the stories, the songs, the quizzes, the fill-in-the-blanks — all of it has the ability to truly change people. With this instilled clarity, I can see how I’ve been changed already. Selecting discipline created within me a need to dominate and control. The power of that need is so strong, that even though I know it’s been artificially instilled in me, I don’t want to fight it. I want to embrace it. It is now fundamentally me, baked into my DNA. I want to close my laptop and walk away, but I also know that I can’t. The stories have to be read. The stories have to be finished.

Acolyte Damian leans in and whispers, “Clarity is always the best option. It leads to more informed decision-making.”

“Are you just trying to placate me, Damian?” You ask coyly.

“As your first and most devoted follower I will always tell you the truth unless told to do otherwise,” he says, head bowed. “Look, I will follow you to the ends of the earth, because that’s my lot, but you have to be certain in your own mind just why you want followers.”

Aurora, do you —

Want to be worshipped

Want to lead

Want sexual satisfaction

Want to change the world

Knowing what path lays down each choice somewhat makes the choice clear. I don’t need to be worshipped and stuck with a god complex. I don’t need an increased libido from a need for sexual satisfaction. And, while changing the world is nice, the concept of misplaced benevolence. A little more ego doesn’t sound like that bad of a thing compared to the rest of them.

I select - Want to lead.

I feel the zing of my enhanced ego. I know that it’s making me feel like the world revolves around yours truly and, coupled with my need to control, I’m feeling more than a little power mad. I wonder how the other three are doing. Half of me wants to warn them, to tell them these stories are a trap and that no one comes out unscathed, but the other half hopes they’re not benefitting as much as I am. Also, I know this tidbit of information and I’m not sure I’ve benefitted.

The only way out is through.

“A leader without followers is just a person taking a walk.” Damian says with a smile, then continues, indicating through a two-way mirror a mixed set of people. “I’ve gathered a group of potential followers. Do you want to judge them?”

Aurora, do you —

Accept all

Accept only the young

Accept only the attractive

Accept only the wealthy

When someone asks if you want to become youth biased, beauty biased, wealth biased, or truly benevolent, you say —

I select — Accept all.

The world is a wonderful place and the people on it have the potential for such greatness that I’m actually in awe of everyone. While I will always stand above them, and know what’s best for them, I will always also take care of each and every one of them. Benevolence feels good. I feel like it’s the most true to the “me” that started this story, though maybe a bit more refined and perfected.

Damian returns from a discussion with the people on the other side. All of them look pleased to have been accepted. He also looks content with the additions, but asks one final question of you. “Some of your potential followers are asking… Are you a god?”

Aurora, do you say —

Yes

No

I’m benevolent. I like control. What could possibly be wrong with me accepting the powers of a god?

I select — Yes.

The room feels different.

The world feels different.

Everything is different now.

The story is over, but mine has just begun and I will have much more control over its crafting.

I am a perfect person and, as such, I take the time to remove any imperfections from my face and body. I cast a light glow around myself so that everyone who approaches know exactly who they approach — a goddess walking the Earth, a goddess always willing to lend them a helping hand, especially when they don’t know what’s best for them. I’ll know and I have the power to lead them to a better state of being.

I see the laptops of my three compatriots also close in sync with mine and while I feel this new, uncertain power flowing through me, I don’t have omniscience to know how each of them fared with their choices, but I’m excited to wait for our prey to remove themselves from the room next door.


Choose Your Own Transformation The Cult of You Max

MAX REED
“Okay, laptops open. Detention lasts an hour. We have an hour to do what we came here to do. We picked the story that would most likely to affect the targets more than ourselves, but you know the risks. We crunched the variables as best as we could from what we know, but this is not an exact science. It’s for all intents and purposes magic.”

After listening to Wesley drone into us, I can’t help but to poke with with a “well, actually” equivalent. “To quote Arthur C. Clarke, ‘Magic’s just science that we don’t understand yet.’”

“And we don’t understand this,” Carlos adds. “So, closer to magic than science for us.”

“If,” Aurora says, “If it’s all not just a big prank. And that’s a pretty big if, if you ask me.”

He takes my jab and Carlos’ addition in stride, but he seems peeved by Aurora. I think he’s always had a thing for her. It’s not like all three of us don’t have a thing for her. I mean, she’s gorgeous, after all, but I think his thing has been a long time running. Being in close proximity to her makes him act different. Everything she says has a different weight and non-insults and statements that call him into question cut him like a thousand knives.

Wesley goes on dictating out to us, “All available data backs up that this is not just some random site or some urban myth prank type thing. Worst case scenario, we spend some time reading and choosing the paths of these stories and nothing happens beyond simple entertainment. However, we’re on the clock in case of other more interesting things and the clock keeps on ticking as we continue to rehash this conversation.”

I don’t believe any of this. I’m just along for the ride and the story.

It’s Wesley’s research and plan so he actually is a believer.

He actually thinks that we can use some story on a website to change the world, but to more specifically and importantly, change some people in the next room over.

I’m nothing if not meticulous. I’ve read the same sites he has and probably even some he hasn’t. Because of its ridiculous nature, it seems like a hoax that people just enjoy perpetuating. That could just be the atheist in me.

When drawing straws — the only fair way to decide once Damian was assigned to Aurora through a unanimous vote — I actually hoped I wouldn’t get Brianna Rogers, the most plastic of the Plastics. She’s angry at the world because she was born with a honker of a nose and was given no breasts with the onset of puberty to get people… boys… to like her. She got surgery on her nose and chest, and dyed her drab brown hair to be as blonde as blonde can be, but the outer fixes did nothing to quell the roaring bitch inside.

So with the beautiful black beauty that is Cora Jackson and the natural stunner that is Faith Phillips in the mix, of course, I pull she-devil bitch Brianna Rogers as my “story partner.”

I half hope that this site is bogus because I don’t want to be tied to her in any way whatsoever.

I dive into the story “The Cult of You” from the Choose Your Own Adventure story site and, because fair is fair, bring Brianna Rogers into my tale.

I wonder if the feeling of being temporarily sick to my stomach has anything whatsoever to do with the supposed “power” of the site or just a flash from my subconscious at the idea of being partnered with Brianna.

Either way, it goes as quickly as it comes and I begin the story.

Your lead acolyte Brianna approaches you reverently. “Are you excited? It’s not every day you start a new religion.”

“People need something to believe in. It’s time something was created that could endure with a more positive impact for once,” you say with purposeful conviction.

“So I take it, you’ve decided then? You’ve decided what is to be the central tenet of this new religion?”

Max, do you —

Found it with love as the basis

Found it with fear as the basis

Found it with discipline as the basis

Found it with intellect as the basis

I want Brianna to have no connection to me beyond mental, which seems to rule out three of the options, leaving only one viable option to choose.

I select — Found it with intellect as the basis.

Imagine that, a religion built around intellect. I go through various scenarios in my head, contemplating the outcomes in rapid order. I’ve always prided myself on my much higher than average, bordering on superhuman intelligence. A large enough group led by a collective intelligence could prove to be the salve this world is in such dire need of… but that’s an idle fancy, I should continue reading this story.

You find Acolyte Brianna reading a tome, as is customary for all of your followers, as small a number as that may currently be. But you have plans to expand, to lure new members under your benevolent wings.

Max, do you —

Lure them in with promises of sex

Lure them in with promises of clarity

Lure them in with promises of transcendence

Lure them in with promises of order

Picturing Brianna reading of her own accord is definitely the most fantastical element of this story yet, especially a “tome” and not some fashion magazine or entertainment rag. What if this story had the power to change a snobby, vapid bitch like Brianna into someone of worth? If they could push beyond their limitations, imagine how much better the world could possibly be. Brianna’s wrappings aren’t so bad, I’ve just always taken an issue with who she is inside. If her insides could change for the better, though…

I select — Lure them in with promises of transcendence.

Intellect will take us beyond. Embracing the powers of the mind to overcome all difficulties will lead humanity to a new enlightenment. Unlocking that potential within us all will usher in a truly golden age. I can take the clay that is Brianna and lift her beyond to make her more than what I’ve known her to be…

Acolyte Brianna leans in and whispers, “Transcendence is always the best option. It leads to a greater evolution of the human spirit, body, and mind.”

“Are you just trying to placate me, Brianna?” You ask coyly.

“As your first and most devoted follower I will always tell you the truth unless told to do otherwise,” she says, head bowed. “Look, I will follow you to the ends of the earth, because that’s my lot, but you have to be certain in your own mind just why you want followers.”

Max, do you —

Want to be worshipped

Want to lead

Want sexual satisfaction

Want to change the world

Providing transcendence with a focus on intellect to a needy world should be rewarded handily.

I select - Want to be worshipped.

I am worthy of so much more than I’ve always accepted. I walk among mere mortals but an elevated being such as myself should not be treated like them. I have stepped beyond. I have joined a higher order. Those that walk with me (two steps behind minimal) shall bask in my glory. Those that dare step up to me to act against me? Lo, they will all feel the full force of my wrath.

“A leader without followers is just a person taking a walk,” Brianna says with a smile, then continues, indicating through a two-way mirror a mixed set of people. “I’ve gathered a group of potential followers. Do you want to judge them?”

Max, do you —

Accept all

Accept only the young

Accept only the attractive

Accept only the wealthy

The young haven’t had their minds set yet. They are still mutable and can still learn a new way, a new path. They can learn to focus on their intellect, to transcend their mortal form, and to provide me with more years of worship.

I select — Accept only the young.

I am so blessed to be in high school with all of these fine young women — their bodies full, but tight. All of that youthful exuberance and appeal. I think, that when I move on to college, I’ll keep a high school girlfriend, because I don’t want to give any of that up.

Brianna returns from a discussion with the people on the other side. All of them look young and pleased to have been accepted. She also looks content with the additions, but asks one final question of you. “Some of your potential followers are asking… Are you a god?”

Max, do you say —

Yes

No

I have followers. I bring transcendence through intellect. If that doesn’t support a case for godhood, then I don’t know what would.

I select Yes.

I see the laptops of the room’s other three inhabitants also close in sync with mine as I feel my rising godhood. I don’t know what happened to them, but I hope they are prepared to worship. As my friends from my previous existence, I would hate for them to miss out on the blessing of me and my message.


Choose Your Own Transformation The Cult of You Wesley


WESLEY COLEMAN

I look around the room at my assembled team. My friends, for the most part.

Carlos Mendoza — my brother from another mother. If I’m Kirk, he’s my Spock, but, you know, without all of that weird, emotional-denying baggage.

Max Reed, who I’ve known since kindergarten. He’s more of a McCoy — trusted advisor who always calls it like he sees it.

And then, there’s Aurora Cooper.

We’re… friends.

You know… “Friends.”

But she seems to think that just because she jumps ship from the evil crew to our group and buys a couple tight nerd shirts that we’re copacetic. Sure, joining us when she did kept her from being next door and serving detention next door through some wily machinations on my part. It keeps her from being a target of these stories… for now. I mean, if this all works, if we find out this all really works like I think it will, there’s nothing stopping me from populating another tale with her name down the line.

That was not addressed in any of our group’s agreements and is therefore not in breach of any of our pledges to each other.

If I’m keeping the Star Trek associations going, she’s probably Seven of Nine. She’s gorgeous. I’ve thought of her more than a few times when I’m enjoying alone time. But all in, she’s not someone I’m keen on trusting long term because of her lingering ties to the bad guys.

I put on my game face and get my crew in order.

“Okay, laptops open. Detention lasts an hour. We have an hour to do what we came here to do. We picked the story that would most likely to affect the targets more than ourselves, but you know the risks. We crunched the variables as best as we could from what we know, but this is not an exact science. It’s for all intents and purposes magic.”

Max chimes in, “To quote Arthur C. Clarke, ‘Magic’s just science that we don’t understand yet.’”

Like I don’t know the work of Arthur C. Clarke better than he does. Who is he kidding?

“And we don’t understand this,” Carlos adds. “So, closer to magic than science for us.”

I get that, guys. A totally valid conversation for some other time. Some other time when we’re not on the clock and trying to put it into practice.

“If,” Aurora says, “If it’s all not just a big prank. And that’s a pretty big if, if you ask me.”

If I weren’t a man of my word, a man of honor like my heroes in the Federation, I would absolutely backstab Aurora for her insolence and put her name into the field instead of Faith Phillips who I pulled in our random draw. No one wanted Brianna and I’m pretty sure that Carlos has always packed major wood for Cora, so I’m glad he got her. Faith Phillips is a top of the cheerleader pyramid, literally and figuratively, kind of girl. Small — kind of like me — but gorgeous — so unlike me. A slight and natural beauty that, if I just so happen to get a chance to explore thoroughly, I won’t be disappointed in the slightest.

“All available data backs up that this is not just some random site or some urban myth prank type thing. Worst case scenario, we spend some time reading and choosing the paths of these stories and nothing happens beyond simple entertainment. However, we’re on the clock in case of other more interesting things and the clock keeps on ticking as we continue to rehash this conversation.”

This was my research, my plan, my idea.

The time for debate is over.

It’s time to explore the potential of this strange new world.

Faith, I hope you’re ready to be Wesley’d, because I’ve just launched the “The Cult of You” story and put your name in right after mine.

The feeling of gut-wrenching excitement… I wonder if that’s what Starship Captains feel when they pull out of the station for the first time.

Your lead acolyte Faith approaches you reverently. “Are you excited? It’s not every day you start a new religion.”

“People need something to believe in. It’s time something was created that could endure with a more positive impact for once,” you say with purposeful conviction.

“So I take it, you’ve decided then? You’ve decided what is to be the central tenet of this new religion?”

Wesley, do you —

Found it with love as the basis

Found it with fear as the basis

Found it with discipline as the basis

Found it with intellect as the basis

Love fades. Discipline is boring. Intellect has no teeth.

I select — Found it with fear as the basis.

I’ve always been better than other people. I’ve known this all of my life. I’ve been unfortunately disrespected for almost as long. That changes now. If I can’t win people over with wit and charm, I will break them. Seeing as I trust no one, I’ll have to break the whole lot of them.

Acolyte Faith stands at attention, trying desperately to hide her quaking, as is expected from all of your followers, as small a number as that may currently be. But you have plans to expand, to lure new members under your watchful understanding.

Wesley, do you —

Lure them in with promises of sex

Lure them in with promises of clarity

Lure them in with promises of transcendence

Lure them in with promises of order

The problem with the world, if you ask me, isn’t clarity, transcendence, or sex. Sure, I would love to know more, to see more, and to do more… women. But really, when it comes down to it, the world is a mess because of entropy, plain and simple. Remove chaos from the equation and we’d all be better off.

I select — Lure them in with promises of order.

I am the person who can bring order to this world. I’m not afraid of the power created by fear. In fact, I embrace it. I always thought of myself as a Kirk, but really, I’m probably a Khan — better than everyone else with a grand destiny to rule over his inferiors through whatever tactics are necessary.

Acolyte Faith leans in and whispers, “Order is always the best option. It leads to more organized, purposeful society.”

“Are you just trying to placate me, Faith?” You ask coyly.

“As your first and most devoted follower I will always tell you the truth unless told to do otherwise,” she says, head bowed. “Look, I will follow you to the ends of the earth, because that’s my lot, but you have to be certain in your own mind just why you want followers.”

Wesley, do you —

Want to be worshipped

Want to lead

Want sexual satisfaction

Want to change the world

With every passing day, the world cries out for a leader who can actually lead us to a better place. Often, the people who rise to power have no right, nor do they care for anything other than amassing even more power. Those are the leaders who lead without a motivation toward betterment. That or they fall prey to baser urges. I can do better.

I select - Want to change the world.

I am not cruel. I don’t promote fear and order because I revel in it. I do it benevolently, knowing that the fight or flight response in people is one of the strongest impulses we experience. When we fear, everything slows down and we see the world in greater detail. I want to bless people with that insight so that they too can push us on a path toward something better than what we have now.

“A leader without followers is just a person taking a walk.” Faith says with a smile, then continues, indicating through a two-way mirror a mixed set of people. “I’ve gathered a group of potential followers. Do you want to judge them?”

Wesley, do you —

Accept all

Accept only the young

Accept only the attractive

Accept only the wealthy

Youth and attractiveness fades. Money, however, can hide all kinds of imperfections.

I select — Accept only the wealthy.

I understand the need for gilded churches, all gold and elaborate paintings — if you look like shit, you look like you’re selling shit. As a person, I have to wear only the finest in clothing because I dress for the job I want — to be in charge. Even rounding out my high school career, there’s nothing more important than looking important if you want to eventually be important.

Faith returns from a discussion with the people on the other side. The remaining people look pleased to have been accepted. She also looks content with the additions, but asks one final question of you. “Some of your potential followers are asking… Are you a god?”

Wesley, do you say —

Yes

No

Nothing inspires fear and order like a god…

I select — Yes.

I feel different.

Powerful

Ready to take over the world…

I close my laptop and I hear the same sound of the click echo from three other laptops. My “friends.” My “allies.” My “co-conspirators.” These poor wretches mean so little to me now…


THE WEAVER

Stop me if you’ve heard this one —

Four people who think they’re gods wordlessly walk out of a room having changed themselves along with someone in the adjacent room.

Once a kind and somewhat benevolent leader, Wesley Coleman has changed himself into a pretentious, elitist who wants to control through fear and wear clothes with a high price tag. Previously, he would just wear whatever was clean (or cleanest in a pinch), but this shift has completely overwritten his wardrobe and priorities. As he walks out into the hallway, he wears dress pants, a matching vest, and a white dress shirt, its sleeves rolled up his arms. His previously shaggy hair is slicked back and there’s no trace of spotty growth on his face.

Max Reed, a doubter, has become fixated on being worshiped by those younger than himself who seek his pathfinding to transcendence. His clothes follow the latest trends and they always will to lure the young to him.

Carlos Mendoza’s focus in life shifts to sex and love, not necessarily in that order, and always with those he deems beautiful. He wears only light beige, flowing linen and, out of all of the quartet, he looks the most at peace.

Aurora Cooper’s life is now all about discipline, clarity, and leadership. This is reflected in her vinyl wardrobe, more befitting a dominatrix than a high school senior. Her dyed dark red hair is pulled tightly back into a power ponytail, its red perfectly matching her lipstick.

They stand outside of the closed detention room door, shifting uncomfortably , each waiting for the other to make the first move, to utter the first word.

Wesley attempts to grip Aurora by the ponytail to put some fear into her focused eyes, but doesn’t get even close as she grips his wrist before he can make contact. Her steely eyes fall onto his. “Not yours. Not now. Not ever.”

She only lets go when his hand starts to go white. Wesley rubs his wrist and thinks only about revenge for this affront to his person.

Carlos tries to charm Aurora, “Perhaps we could come to a mutually pleasing physical arrangement,” but she shoots him down with a severe look as well.

Max is put off by both her apparent lack of friendliness and her age as an outgoing senior — she’s only got a few good months left in her before she’s college-aged. He shudders at that term.

Wesley finishes rubbing his wrist and strides towards the door. “If you’re all afraid, I guess I will approach.”

Before he can open the door, the Vice Principal Rivera scurries from the room. She looks somewhere between shocked and frightened.

The quartet enter to some random applause from Kaiden Wagner, the only other person in the detention room now other than their acolytes. He seems neither shocked, nor frightened. He looks… amused. “Wow. You guys. You guys! Great show. Great choices.” He stands up and walks to the door, cryptically saying through an excited laugh, “I can only hope that mine turns out as well,” before making his exit.

The four scan the room, standing a good arm’s distance from each other, and when they nod in unison, their acolytes come up to each of them, kneeling before their respective “god.”

Damian Long wears a collar, naming himself as Aurora’s “pet.” Despite being a brash and reckless rogue less than an hour ago, he kneels completely submissive to his mistress. She extends her hand in front of his bent head and he kisses it lovingly. She basks in her dominance, control, and power.

Cora Jackson’s black hair is pulled back at the top, but flowing along the back and sides. Her arms are adorned with golden bands and her lack of underwear, clearly viewed through her gauzy toga dress, reminds Carlos of the time he saw her in the rain. His instantly engorged manhood, rock hard at the thought back and the current sight, immediately beckons Cora’s mouth to it. Needing no instruction, she pulls his pants down enough to free him. Despite the audience, and possibly turned on by the display, she starts to bob her head on it wildly, desperately seeking the sweet ambrosia of his cum.

Aurora sees this control and removes a strap of vinyl, revealing her naked crotch to Damian who instantly begins to tongue it thoroughly. Aurora smiles and nods at Carlos who returns the look.

In comparison to the other two disciples who have already started oral ministrations, Brianna Rogers looks especially poised and intelligent. In addition to her ponytails and bright makeup, her glasses were chosen to compliment her youthful look. Despite it being a public school, she wears a schoolgirl outfit that’s at least a size too small for her, putting her ample breasts and long tan legs on display. Max lifts her gaze to his eyes by lifting her up with his hand on her chin. “The path to transcendence is worship.” He puts his hands behind his head, thrusting his crotch towards her face. “Worship me.” She’s easily savvy enough to catch his meaning. She unzips his pants, pulls his cock out, and licks it with enthusiasm until it’s hard enough to suckle.

Faith Phillips wears a high-end corset, matching panties, and seamless stockings. She looks absolutely terrified of Wesley. She’s small enough to pick up and he does, throwing her down onto the desk, tearing at her stockings and panties as she squirms below him. Once her slit is in view, he plunges inside her, gripping the corset down so that he can abuse her nipples harshly. She’s been rebuilt to feel pain as pleasure, so ever hard thrust, ever nipple pinch or twist, has her moaning on the verge of screaming.

Aurora is the first to orgasm, but she keeps Damian’s head locked in place to keep the delight going. She will experience another two before the boys find their happy end.

Faith’s own orgasm follows shortly thereafter and she thrashes against Wesley, nearly throwing herself off the desk and to the ground. He gnashes his teeth, maintaining his focus.

The men, seemingly in competition with each other, hold off their releases as long as they can.

Carlos is first to give up, not caring about appearances or competition, merely wanting to revel in his culmination and grant his follower her grand reward.

Max follows next, filling Brianna’s worshiping mouth with his seed, and then Wesley finishes inside of Faith, slapping the side of her ass with each shudder.

Aurora, Carlos, Max, and Wesley regain their composure and bring their devotees up to a standing position. Each of them whispers into their convert’s right ear, “Go forth and lure more like you to me,” sending them out into the world and starting the four competing cults that would grow to rule this school through various means — specifically, sex, clarity, transcendence, and order…

…but even the three latter terms are often achieved through the judicious application of sex.

This is, of course, a god’s prerogative, especially if that “god” just so happens to be merely eighteen years of age, full of hormones, and surrounded by potential worshipers.

[EFHRJ]

https://mcstories.com/ChooseYourOwnTran ... index.html

Well, the original story is entirely up here, so it should have the missing part there?