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Sepherith	By : salarta Category: Final Fantasy VII > General Views: 6016 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy, its characters or any ideas or concepts contained herein. This story is a mere fan-made work, and I make no money or profit from its creation and dissemination.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: This time, I set out to treat this as something I could blow off quality-wise (though I still put more effort into writing and editing this than I originally intended) and just go nuts with a crazy idea. Lower effort than usual. However, I have to say: the basic premise of this fic, of Aeris becoming more like Sephiroth, is NOT something I came up with. I saw it somewhere else a few years ago, I remembered it last week, and I decided to make a quickie based on that premise. Plus, confirmation last week that Aeris and Sephiroth were at one point planned to be lovers, then later brother and sister, helped stir interest for me. I'm not currently planning on doing anything more with this than what's here, but if anyone wants to continue it or try their own take on the idea, I'd be happy to see it, same with anything else I've written. Oh, and because I screwed around to make a face to help me with this: http://i.imgur.com/tWj7B.jpg

The sting of Masamune through her gut was an all too familiar sensation. Even as a spirit, it throbbed with pain, helping her forget the ache in her muscles from running so far and fast from her worst nightmare.
She thought her healing rain on Midgar would purge the world of Jenova's influence, and transform a reincarnated Sephiroth into positive Lifestream force. She never counted on the fabled man to survive dissolution a second time by focusing his hatred on another target... her. She grunted and writhed, suspended in the air as he twisted his sword in her back.
"You have ruined my plans for the last time, Cetra," Sephiroth swore.
"Are you going to kill me?" Aerith asked. After two years, such a question in her current form no longer sounded quite so strange. She knew what a second death would mean... and so did Sephiroth.
"I'm not a fool. I know what would happen. You would dissolve into pure energy, pass through me and remove all remaining traces of my power over the Planet before returning to the Lifestream. No, I have much better plans for you. The perfect punishment for your constant interference."
A deep, foreboding darkness weaved from the blade inside her, pouring forth from her wounds to coat her skin like tainted latex. It smothered her with unending heat, reaching up to her neck before her head lolled. A hard, heavy breath forced itself from her mouth as tightness pressed into her chest. Before the darkness claimed her, she heard a final promise from Sephiroth that chilled her to her heart.
"Say goodbye to Aerith Gainsborough. When you wake up, the woman you are will no longer exist."
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First, she heard the flutter of bird wings. Then, she felt soft flower petals against her skin, and a cool breeze stealing away the raging inferno of her body to the winds. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing the sights of her lovingly familiar church. Since her time among the living, a nearby wall had crumbled from disrepair, shattered pillars lay across the wooden floor, and chain-linked chandeliers creaked high above. When her fingers dipped into cool water, Aerith peered over... and stared at the woman in her reflection.
Long, high-arching platinum silver bangs rose from a gentle widow's peak, framing a face that looked much harder and held a hint more color than she remembered. She blinked in disbelief, drawing her gaze to the cold, calculating gleam of her slitted cat-like pupils, beset as they were by the sea of her thin emerald green eyes beneath thicker, lightly curved grey eyebrows. When she saw her vicious, scheming smile, she reached up and ran her fingers across its curling corners.
It was real. Aerith Gainsborough, last of the Cetra, beheld her new face... the face of Sephiroth. Or at least, the man's idea of her twisted to look like a female version of him, sculpted with just enough traces of her real appearance to conjure memories of the woman she used to be. The one truest hint of her soul remade in this body showed in her hairstyle, her silver braided ponytail bound by a black leather ribbon to cascade against her back. She came to her feet on legs rebuilt as stronger, firmer, more toned than her old weak and fragile self once had.
"It's only a body. Cloud will understand. If I talk to him, we can work together and find a way to stop any plan Sephiroth might have. That is, if he's still alive after I fuck him and infect him with Geostigma."
Aerith froze, heart skipping a beat once her mind caught up with the dirty, evil deed of her last remark. "What's wrong with me? I would never wish for something so horrible. Sephiroth is my lord and master, I would never try to foil his plans."
This time, Aerith clapped her hand to her mouth, trembling as a new wave of darkness churned in the pit of her stomach and crawled inside every cell of her skin, alerting her to an invasion of Jenova's will. It was a virus... infecting her... tainting her spirit with a brand new body so very similar yet different from her own.
She could smell Sephiroth on her. She reeked of him now, like a noxious cloud of musk fuming off of her. No... not noxious. Divine! A potent whiff of her ruggedly masculine scent melted her mind to the glory of being the legendary man's newest avatar to walk the Planet. She felt herself slipping, falling into the temptations of her flesh.
She touched her forbidden body. Forbidden, because as testosterone oozed off her, the distinct wrongness of finding so much excitement in her pure spirit turning into a remnant of Sephiroth in the shape of a woman pressed hard on her thoughts. His might, his raw and unbridled manhood, coursed through her, subduing her feminine Cetra half with ease. A part of her wanted to escape... the part that made her Aerith Gainsborough... but every second in this body made her spirit weaker.
"He's raping me... in the worst way I can imagine. He's already raped my body and my mind, but this... this is glorious!" She cackled mad, rubbing her palm against her forehead with a wild, vile grin. "Spirit rape... he's going to twist everything I am with his essence until I'm a part of him. It's the greatest insult yet, and I've earned it for interfering all the time like a high and mighty bitch."
Pure hatred burned in her, the same unflinching hate Sephiroth felt for the woman... she used to be. Every unkind word, and every nasty thought, concocted for Aerith Gainsborough sent shivers of pleasure through her. The very act fueled itself, just by knowing how complete her corruption had grown that she would speak so badly of herself. That's when she felt her nipples rub against silky fabric. She looked down at her new wardrobe... and what it said about her.
A black leather minijacket with short metal-banded sleeves and belts across the front to keep it in place just wouldn't have the same appeal without her new pair of giant breasts to hide, and a black string tied around her neck to draw even more attention to her cleavage. The extension of the jacket's back made for a perfectly sleazy split into flaps just above her tailbone, covering her cheeks but allowing the cleft to remain on show. She followed her urges, trailing her hands down her sides and slipping under those flaps to squeeze her plush, abundant rear and got her first feel of her new dress. The cells of Jenova that brought her new physical form sizzled from the tight, clingy sensations wrought by her buttoned dress, uselessly transparent as if solely made to mock the pink innocence of her old one.
"My whole life as a Cetra was a lie! I was born to become Sephiroth's remnant, an extension of his spirit. I am Sephiroth's puppet... I am his lackey. No.... I AM Sephiroth! I am more than some mere agent under his influence, I exist because he made me in his image! He is my god, my creator, the one who brought me life. Aerith Gainsborough is-"
Just then, she coughed, and faltered. She doubled over as she spluttered, clutching her chest, her bangs falling over her face. Her metal bracers clicked as she brought her hands together in prayer, her silver nail polish glimmering in the light. A swell of... Aerith... took hold, and she shook her head.
"I have to fight him. I will NOT become a fragment of his spirit. I am more than a small part of a wicked man. I'm Aerith Gainsborough. I'm the last of the Cetra. My heritage and identity mean too much. If I can call upon the Planet for aid... I can..."
That smell again. It was always the smell. Every time she came close to wresting back control of her mind, she found herself getting weak in the legs when her nostrils took in the scent of sweat and sperm that was distinctly Sephiroth. Nothing could defeat it, a constant trigger for the rapture she felt for her god. She imagined him bending her over, holding her braid, fucking her raw and fierce as she screamed his name.
"Sephiroth! Sephiroth!" the little pretend voice of hers shouted in her fresh depraved fantasies. "Fuck me harder! Fill the emptiness inside me! Remind me what it feels like to be whole again."
She dreamed of her eventual demise, her grand reward for her esteemed service. Once his Masamune lopped off her head, her spirit would flow back into her master's body to rejoin him, fading seamlessly with the rest of what she left behind when she became a remnant.
She could no longer ignore the awkward feelings stirring at her loins. She reached into the gap between buttons of her dress, lowered her leather codpiece and shivered at the sight. While her pussy sweltered with want, arousal now dripping down her toned thighs, her proud, engorged dick sprang free. Though thin, it mirrored the famous Masamune in length, passing through the exit made by her hand to jut twelve inches out. She touched the quivering, pulsing shaft and grimaced... a grimace that turned into a naughty all-knowing smile as she took a firm grip upon it.
"Sephiroth has given me a penis... a woman with a penis..." Aerith's hesitation turned to naughty glee, fondling herself. "Yes, how appropriate. It would be wrong for me not to have one. After all, I am Sepherith, the new Jenova made in his image."
She stroked herself, fist pumping from the base and her nice tuft of grey hairs to the plump bulb she had for its tip. Standing at the edge of a crystal clean Lifestream-infused pond, Sepherith angled it toward the surface and grinned.
"Aerith is no more. I am a blight on this land. A messenger for my great one winged angel's coming. All who look on me will despair at his coming before succumbing to my temptations."
Her breasts jiggled within her tiny jacket, while her other hand popped one of her dress buttons, descended and swirled about her nether lips. She mewled as her scent grew ever fiercer from her twin delights.
Incensed with a fresh, untested body, the former Cetra succumbed swiftly to her novice libido. White strands of cum spurted from her spasming cock, dripping into the water before her... and tainting it. The blackness of negative Lifestream spread like a liquid plague until the surface turned murky, snatching away the arousing gift of her reflection for the much greater pleasure of seeing her corruption steal all life from the pool. Beneath her, as the rush of orgasm spilled from her pussy, her juices dribbled over her precious yellow flowers. They twisted into misshapen forms, their stems kinking as their petals became a midnight black. Soon, the will of Jenova swept through the entire flower bed, every touch of green snuffed in darkness.
All Sepherith could do, standing amid all this spiritual carnage, was giggle as her dick shrank to fill her codpiece, and she snapped the leather garb back into place.
"Can you see me, Sephiroth? Can you feel me?" she called out. "You will return to this world in a way only my tainted Cetra spirit could conceive. I will spread Geostigma with my manhood and my quim, and every new spirit that returns to me will aid in your rebirth... from the womb of your once greatest enemy! Sepherith, the new JENOVA, your loyal servant!"
Turning from the pond, Sepherith headed for the church's high wooden doors, her black high heels clicking with every step. All the while, she rubbed her stomach, imagining the wonders of its future pregnant swell.
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Sepherith