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
- 39
- 40
- 41
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.

What was Hojo hiding from me? How could he work on so many people alone? What did he think I would be afraid of? These questions whirled in my brain like chaff in wind.
Dressed, hair pulled back, my feet in surgical covers, I walked to the door. I put my thumb on the scanner. If I knew Hojo, he�d arrange it so I could get out anytime I wanted, no matter the protocol, for I was the main occupant; he always fixed his slaves with security. Michael�s override shouldn�t work on the inside of the door, just the outside. �Override Protocol,� I said. �Victoria Grey seeks exit.�
The door light blinked twice and the panel slid back, allowing me freedom. Smiling, I walked down the hall.
The moment I entered the lab I knew what Hojo and Michael shielded me from; it couldn�t have been more obvious had Hojo worn a neon sign.
Gigantic, long tentacles surged from his back.
I watched in amazement as they hefted instruments and worked right alongside his human hands. He had control over the dozen or so light green, sucker-tipped appendages. My heart gave a little lurch as I remembered the back of his shirt, ripped�
He�d had those in me.
He�d put those things in me.
Oh my god. I�d liked it. No, I�d loved it.
I watched further, noticing the tired curve of his back, his slumped shoulders.
Beside him, a patient flat-lined. Cursing, Hojo cast out two tentacles and grabbed the portable defibrillator. Two more tentacles rubbed contact solution on the man�s chest. Still working on his original patient, he jumped the dead man back to life.
My first few interactions with Hojo, I�d told him I thought tentacles were ugly. I could see that mild, amused smile clearly.

�They won�t hurt you, they�re incapable of it.�
�They�re hideous, sir.�
�Do you think so? Why?�
�The tentacles, sir.�
�Ahhh, but tentacles are so very useful, my dear.� He glanced down at me, a small smile on his lips. �Tentacles are capable of minute manipulations finite fingers cannot copy.�

He�d taken my declaration and determined never to frighten me with his� limbs, going so far as to ask Michael to run interference.
Oh shit. I�d really, really liked them when I couldn�t see them. He could apparently tailor their shape around what he desired, because these sucker-ends didn�t seem at all bulbous-headed. Where did he get them? Was this a byproduct of Jenova?
He looked so tired.
The stinging of my tattoo reminded me of my black-ink-declaration.
Straightening, I walked fully into the lab and approached him. He was so weary he didn�t react when I came to stand beside him, other than to spare me a quick look. Seeing I wasn�t running off in fear, he immediately went back to sewing a man up.
�A stimulant?� I suggested.
Hojo staggered a bit. �Why not?� he asked. �Get in the silver cabinet just behind you and find a tray of prepped needles. Get one out labeled cocaine, five percent.�
I did as he asked, coming to him and sliding off the cover. �You�ll have to give me your arm,� I said, grabbing an alcohol wipe.
Hojo let a tentacle take over for his left hand. Holding out his arm, he just kept working. �You know how?�
�I took a phlebotomy course. How much different is one stick from another?� I cleaned him off and inserted the needle gently, pushing the plunger at a steady, slow rate. Dumping the empty syringe in a sharps container, I found a sterile beaker and filled it full of water, putting a clean, hollow pipette down in it carefully. �You need some water, sir.� I held it up to him.
For a moment I thought he would refuse. Then, humor stole into his eyes as he saw the package in which I delivered his water. He accepted, drinking while he labored.
I observed how the drug perked him up. He went to patients with renewed energy. I followed, offering water and wiping his forehead when he started to sweat. As he worked on his last patient some two hours later, I slipped off.
Returning to the office, I retrieved his dinner and then went into the bathroom and started the tub taps on a low fill. I then left and stopped off in the break room to put his food in the microwave. Just as it finished, he came stumbling by me. I jumped out and caught his arm, helping him the rest of the way.
�No, not here,� I said, urging him toward the bathroom when he looked about to sink onto the couch.
He didn�t argue. He didn�t make any kind of a fuss, not even when I started to undress him and when I put the plate and chopsticks in his hand. �There�s no law that says you can�t eat in the tub,� I said, helping him in. Stripping, I got in behind and proceeded to do the washing for him.
His skin didn�t have a mar on it. No tentacles, no stitches, no nothing, just a smooth, well muscled back. Cautiously, I slicked him up with the soap and began to rub very lightly. He groaned around a mouthful of food and gave a little, delighted shiver.
A swell of caring overtook me. Yes, this madman, but also, this poor man. I doubted Rufus Shin-Ra gave a flying fuck how hard his head scientist worked. Hojo had to own his friends and rule his staff with an iron hand. He couldn�t have a life outside this lab. He was too busy to leave. And, he now watched for a saboteur among his midst, along with random attacks from Shin-Ra haters.
A slave, like me. Only, I was the slave of a slave who wouldn�t give Shin-Ra any of his pets or staff.
I massaged him the entire time he ate. Once he set the plate on the edge of the sink, I moved on to his shoulders. I had to hold him up with one hand and work with the other. When it came time to wash his hair, I had to change positions. Urging him to sit back, I got out, walked around and got back in. I grabbed the sprayer and straddled his outstretched legs.
Tired but contented black eyes captured mine.
My heart lurched. He looked so vulnerable, yet so willing. All this fussing I did, this gentle bossiness for his welfare, it pleased him. His eyes reflected humor and masculine curiosity inside of fatigue.
Slowly, I covered those eyes and wetted his head. Relaxed, he let me shampoo those dark, slick strands of black. When I rinsed, again making sure to cover his eyes, he sighed. I made quick work of conditioner, seeing his energy flagged. When the cocaine wore off entirely, he�d crash and burn.
I got out of the tub without having cleaned myself at all, but I didn�t care. I led Hojo to the bed, naked, and put him in it. The moment his head hit the pillow, he passed out. I glanced at the clock. He would have to start work barely three hours from now.
�Like hell,� I said aloud.
I put on a fresh set of scrubs and washed the makeup off my face. I then removed my nipple chains and called Michael on my bracelet.
�Huh?� he said sleepily.
Hah. Sweet revenge.
�Disable his wake-up,� I said. �He�s not working this morning. He can�t.�
�Daddy never misses work,� Michael said in a mumbly voice.
�I only just got him in the bed,� I said crossly. �He isn�t working; he�s exhausted.�
�Okay,� Michael said, his tone suggesting I would take the full blame. �But, Rufus will be down to see why he isn�t in the lab.�
�Let him come.� I closed communication.
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Cell Division