Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Cell Division	By : Savaial Category: Final Fantasy VII > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2025 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. It belongs to SquareEnix. I do not make any money from these writings, nor do I wish to. The original creators have all my respect, from game designers to voice actors.

Chapter List
- 1-Cell Division
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-58
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-63
- 64-64
- 65-65
- 66-66
- 67-67
- 68-68
- 69-69
- 70-70
- 13
- 14
- 15
I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.

�My god, sir,� Michael�s voice said softly but clearly. �I�d cut those claws if I were you.�
I cracked an eye open to see through the half open door. Michael stood behind a seated Hojo, wiping his back with a cotton ball.
�Miss Grey�s fingernails are perfectly acceptable at their current length, Michael,� Hojo murmured, reaching for a tumbler of clear liquid.
He had eight score marks on his pale, muscled back, all of them oozing.
�Sir, you need stitches,� Michael said, sounding awed. �Two of these aren�t going to just stop bleeding.�
�You know how to do it, then,� Hojo said, sounding perfectly calm, even serene. �The kit is in my top drawer.�
�Did you check and see if she�d bitten through her tongue, sir?� Michael asked, sounding perfectly serious. �She�s not strong enough to do this unless seizuring.�
�Lower your voice,� Hojo said mildly. �She�s very tired.� He tapped his cigarette on the ashtray before drinking another measure from his glass. �I forgot about the pheromone levels in this place. Miss Grey doesn�t have the resistance we do.�
Michael chuckled. �The first time the collar caught me, sir, I came in front of seventy people. Do you remember?� He started threading a needle.
�Yes, it was just after I gave you a cock, too,� Hojo answered. �Your prosthetic prostate and testes work very well.�
�Yes, they do, sir, thank you.�
�You�re very welcome, Michael.�
I watched as Michael sewed up the first gash. Hojo didn�t move, flinch, wince or give any sign of pain.
�Maybe that�s all it will be for you, sir,� Michael said quietly. �But, I wanted to be a man so desperately. You made that happen and I�ll never forget it.� He stopped sewing a moment and I realized with a pang that Michael was crying. �Sorry, sir,� he said quickly, straightening. �I understand men don�t cry.�
�Yes they do, Michael,� Hojo contradicted, his tone gentle. �Don�t let any man tell you differently. And, your tears won�t leave my office.�
My throat ached. I forced my eyes closed, forced myself not to watch, not to listen, not to intrude any further on a private moment between master and slave.
**********************************************************************************

Feeling sticky and rumpled, I slid out of bed. A bit woozy, I took clean scrubs into the bathroom and changed into them after washing up an ocean of vaginal lubrication. I scrubbed twenty minutes to get Hojo�s blood out from under my nails. Pulling my hair back, I looked into my eyes and saw uncertainty.
I couldn�t remember how long I�d been Hojo�s pet. I knew it less than a week.
Gladly did I smell the amber incense rolling into my room. Too, I felt glad Hojo hadn�t deliberately set me up for the exhibition I put on. I�d leave my thoughts for later, when I could think in privacy. Right now I needed to go out there and interact, to help him, and I couldn�t do it with my naked emotions.
I peeked out of my room. Hojo�s chest and head lay across his desk, face down. He had a cigarette, burnt all the way down with the ash dangling, stuck between his fingers. Hair all over, I couldn�t see his face but he quite obviously slept. His radio played softly. The incense burning nearby had less than an inch left on the sticks.
I crept out and approached. He didn�t stir. Standing beside him, I saw slight smudges of red on his new shirt.
I�d gouged the hell out of him.
I�d have never known it had I not seen Michael cleaning him, putting his skin back together.
My eyes drifted to his work, seeing a pile of papers that needed transcribed. Carefully, I took them and sat in my usual spot.
I worked for an hour, amazed by the content of what I read and translated to laymen�s terms. These were reports for Rufus Shinra, compiling data that encompassed the last twenty years on something called the Jenova Project. The more I read the more I linked it with information gleaned on national news.
General Sephiroth, once hero and now enemy of the world, was a result of this project.
I looked at the man who slept so close to me. Would anyone but his slaves know he worked until he collapsed? Were we the only ones who knew he could pet and praise as well as snap and snarl?
Oh yes, everything had to be on his terms. He ruled us all. Still, his press made him out as a one-dimensional mad scientist. He had plenty more dimensions than one.
I worked farther, taking the shuffled papers and putting them in order. Because I feared another sexual mishap, I lit a single stick of his incense and put it close. His clock chimed four.
I needed to wake him. If he slept like that much longer he�d be sore. He couldn�t be as boneless as he seemed. Besides, hunger would drive us out of the office before another hour or two passed. I decided to call Michael for advice. Going into my bathroom, I shut the door.
�Michael,� I said into my bracelet, hoping that the proper way to contact.
�Hey, Vic,� he answered back. �Let me guess. You�re getting hungry and our master is passed out over his desk, sawing logs like a lumberjack.�
�How did you know?�
�Always is this time on a Saturday.� Michael laughed quietly. �Don�t worry about it. I�ve already ordered the usual Saturday afternoon fare, which is sushi, rice and sashimi. It�ll come to his office in about�twenty minutes now.�
�I�ve never had any of that stuff,� I said.
�Let him tell you about it. He loves it. Hope you like raw fish. Gotta go, Vic. My date�s here. By the way, cut your fingernails.�
By the sudden silence I knew our communication broken.
As silently as possible, I tidied his office, even to taking his drinking glass to the bathroom to wash it out. I dusted, stacked papers and changed the radio station, which had gone dead. Anything to avoid thinking about what he�d say to me when he woke up.
The door chimed. I stood on the other side of it. �Yes?�
�Dinner,� a familiar voice said.
Tracy.
I opened the door. �Why do you deliver the professor�s meals if you don�t work for him?� I asked, coming straight to it.
Tracy leaned her curvy hip in the door frame as she handed over the bags of food. Grinning, she rolled her eyes. �Lost a bet,� she answered. She looked past me, noting Hojo�s still form. �He okay?�
�Just asleep.� I put the bags down. �Thanks for bringing the food.�
�I have no choice,� Tracy sighed. �I have another month of delivering. Never make a bet with him, I�m serious.�
�I�ll take your advice and remember it,� I promised, meaning every word.
�Good.� Tracy pivoted. �Tell him �ol Rufus starts his contraband sweep during lunch on Monday. I heard it from Faraday, who works with Iaason in shakedowns.�
�Will do.�
�See you, Vicky.�
I shut the door. Hojo hadn�t stirred, putting to rest my idea that he was the type to come awake at the slightest sound. I put the food out on his little end table and went back to him. Carefully, heart beating like thunder, I put my hand on his shoulder. �Sir?�
He groaned.
�Sir?� I said again, pressing lightly.
His head shot up, scaring me so badly I stumbled backward. �Miss Grey,� he greeted, looking disoriented. He grabbed his glasses and put them on. �I fell asleep,� he murmured, stating the obvious in the way that people do when abruptly awoken. Dragging a hand through his hair, he focused twin pools of blackness upon me. �Are you well, my dear?�
�I�m fine, sir, thank you,� I answered. With all his hair down and framing his cheekbones, he looked Wutainian. �Dinner is here,� I went on, fighting a flutter in my belly at his sleepy, sensual attention.
�Good.� He got up and passed me for the food, taking a plate. �Why are you wearing scrubs this evening?�
�I believed I would work with you in the lab, sir,� I answered, feeling my face heat up. �You mentioned it right before��
�I did,� he replied, sparing me the rest of my sentence. �I got distracted by other work and other�duties.� He gave me a look I could not interpret. �Do I have to make you eat, my dear?�
�No, sir,� I said quickly. �But, I�ve never eaten any of this stuff before and I�m not sure about how to go about it.�
Hojo smiled slowly. �You open your lips, insert food in manageable quantities, chew and swallow.�
Smart ass.
Still smiling, he dragged my chair over with his foot. The gentle pressure of his hand forced me into the seat. He held the plate he�d made out. I spied little, cut-up sections of a larger roll, wrapped in green. The insides had pink and white bits. A small bowl of rice and an even smaller bowl of dark brown fluid balanced on the edge. In between sat a pile of�pink, raw fish.
He put the chopsticks in my hand. �The smaller bowl is for dipping the fish,� he instructed. He dumped a spoonful of flaked, lighter pink stuff down beside my dark, rolled up stuff. �You can dip your sushi in it too, if you like.� He brought his own chopsticks out, picking up a piece of the last stuff he�d dumped on my plate. Placing it on a roll, he brought the entire thing to my mouth. Dark eyes amused, he pushed at my lip. �Anticipation skills hampered, my dear? Or, maybe you�re just mistrustful of me?�
I quickly opened up.
He placed the morsel in my mouth and drew back. The lovely, pungent flavor of ginger arose. I bit down and began to chew, enjoying the taste of it all even if the ginger remained the only thing I could readily identify.
Hojo brought the chopsticks up and licked them, smiling at me. �Good girl,� he praised.
He was the devil.
I shivered and tore my eyes from him.
He sat across from me and we ate in silence I found extremely tense. Still, the food proved very good. After I could focus enough to play around, I discovered I liked the sushi dipped in the brown sauce before I put ginger on it. Even the sashimi pleased my palate, and I loved fried rice.
We ate it all. Again I did the clean-up without being told.
�You can either talk to me about it voluntarily, or I can order you to talk,� Hojo said, startling me. �We�ll get no work done like this.� He stood, strode to his drinks cabinet and poured a glass of something. Carrying it to me, he set it down. �One, slow drink to formulate your thoughts before I call you on your issues.�
Oh, no pressure.
I brought the glass to my mouth. Fumes went up my nose. I took a taste. The light, fruity liquor rolled down my throat like sweet fire. Eyes tearing, I set the glass down but kept my hand upon it.
What the hell did he mean by issues? Any woman would have been embarrassed to just come like a tsunami in front of a man she wasn�t bedding down with at night. I shot a glance in his direction only to find him staring at me. I took another, slow drink to appease him and prove I didn�t stall. I had fire in my belly now, but it felt good.
Tick.
Tock.
The first orgasm he�d forced upon me while I faced away from him. For some reason that seemed significant.
A private show to die for.
I snorted and took another sip. More like a private bump and grind. I could just curl up and die. He�d gotten a stiffie watching me come, feeling me beg for it.
But, he hadn�t brought it up. He hadn�t made fun of me, either.
I finger-combed my hair, gave my other hand something to do.
What reason for my upset, professor? I said in my head. Nothing much. Only that you made me come so hard I thought I would die, and without even touching my clit.
Glass, drink, hold, swallow.
I refused to let him convince me I was just a prude. Nothing prudish about having some decorum, some dignity. No dignity in thrashing about like a maenad.
I looked up at him. �You�re a silken tyrant, sir,� I blurted.
Hojo blinked. �A silken tyrant?� He closed his eyes and began to chuckle, bowing his head.
�Yes, sir,� I said. �You make the people in your elliptic choose between fear and adoration, both of which are a form of reverence.�
Hojo leaned back. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes one by one, smiling all the while. �You don�t think I�m honest in my autocracy?�
I took another swallow of fruity liquor. �No, sir, you�re honest enough. A dictator is usually quite able to be honest.�
�Very true, my dear.� Hojo perched his frames on the end of his nose. �Is this your issue with me?�
�You have to be kidding me, sir,� I said, hating that the power of my words diluted every time I had to tag on the honorific. �I�ve been here less than two weeks, but in that time you�ve managed to erode my independence, make me doubt my belief system, question my values and in general just pull the rug out from under me. And, you�ve done these things without making me hate you.�
Hojo lit a cigarette, black eyes burning behind his glasses. �I believe that�s the most you�ve ever said to me,� he murmured.
I wasn�t finished.
�Even this little talk we�re having right now, sir, is designed and timed to diffuse any resentment I�ve built.�
Hojo smiled. �I knew you�d become a delightful, double-handful of trouble,� he mused.
�And I don�t think you listen to me, sir, even though you hear and analyze everything that leaves my mouth.�
�Psychiatrists are always trouble,� he went on, blowing a smoke ring.
I took my last swallow to avoid standing for a good blow-up. Thumping the glass down, I closed my eyes and covered them with my hand. �And no, sir, shooting a spouse�s lover is NOT an acceptable solution to the problem of infidelity.�
�Worked for me,� he said lowly, not a tinge of upset in his voice. �Although, it didn�t bring the faithless bitch to heel, either.�
�It wouldn�t, sir,� I said, dropping my hand to look at him. �Humanity is an equal balance of creation and destruction. Give and take, push and pull, it�s all a cycle.�
�Amazing how many psychiatrists are also philosophers.�
�Argh!� I slammed my back against the chair, cradling my head in my hands. �What good is this doing, sir?�
�It�s getting you to speak up, which is my goal,� Hojo answered, surprising me out of my defensive fetal position. �I do like silence, but your silence is very loud.� He stubbed out his smoke. �Intelligence and spirit are usually the first things a tyrant tries to eliminate in his subjects, but I like those qualities.� He clasped his hands together, looking at me seriously over the tops of his round lenses. �I want to see and hear yours, Miss Grey.�
�Alright, sir,� I said, unable to keep rebellion out of my tone. �You don�t need your glasses, and I�m mortified you made me come all over you.�
It was my most stupid sentence, ever. Petulant, childish, completely out of place and straight from the gut.
Hojo took his glasses off and put them in his pocket. �Better?� He didn�t wait for my answer, but rose and came around the desk. Crouching beside my chair, he put his body close to mine and his mouth at my ear. �Being embarrassed for what I did to you,� he said softly, �is like apologizing for someone else�s shortcomings.�
His warm breath on my ear and neck made me tremble all over, uncontrollably.
�Feeling embarrassment over your body�s pleasure response does you no service, Miss Grey. You don�t apologize for pain, do you?�
�No, sir,� I answered in a strangled voice.
�Then, would you have preferred me taking you out into the lab, distracted, unable to obey me?� He leaned even closer. �Would have preferred to make a public show instead of a private one?�
�No, sir,� I said, feeling miserable.
�Then, logically, your objections must have something to do with your lack of control over the situation, yes?�
�Yes, sir,� I answered. �Couldn�t I have relieved myself?�
He tilted his head. �I suppose I could have given you that time, yes, Miss Grey.�
�Then,� I said, �Would you allow me to if the situation arises again?�
I couldn�t believe I was asking him for permission to masturbate. Was that his game all along or did I read into it too much? How would I even know?
�It probably won�t happen again, my dear, but if it does, I�ll give you the choice. Is that acceptable?� His still, quiet voice just shivered me.
�Yes, sir, thank you.� No way would I ask him to trigger the bracelet. Just no.
He paused before rising slowly. �I bother you, don�t I, Miss Grey?� He dragged his desk chair out and sat directly in front of me. �And, I have from the first moment. The others warmed up to me very quickly, except for Jean, who apparently doesn�t know what he wants and probably never will.�
I found it odd to look at him without his glasses. Distracting. My thoughts wouldn�t formulate with any speed. �Yes, sir,� I admitted.
�Any ideas on why?�
�Yes, sir.� I kept my mouth shut.
�Give me just one,� he coaxed softly, tilting back in his chair until it only rested on two legs. �Aside from the fact that you belong to me and you don�t know if that will ever change.�
Evil, evil, evil man. Evil and cunning. And, upsettingly, pervasively attractive.
�I�m used to quickly putting people in categories for my own convenience, like most,� I said. �I can�t do that with you. And, it bothers me that I don�t hate you. I want to hate you; I feel like I ought to.� I gritted my teeth with the urge to look away from him. But, I had his full attention and could not break that black, starless stare. �Shin-Ra took me from a satisfying life and you take me from my own power.� I raised my wrist. �My well-being depends on your whimsy. Do you not find that troubling when you apply it to yourself, sir?�
Hojo let his chair down with a small thump. �Slavery is always troublesome, my dear,� he answered, his tone gentle enough to worry me. �For curiosity�s sake, why don�t you hate me?�
�I�ve asked myself that for three days now, sir. When I know, I�ll tell you.�
He smiled. �Promise?�
�I promise, sir.�
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Cell Division