Slayers Fan Fiction ❯ Merge ❯ Merge ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Xellos had never been one to stay idle, and without pressing orders beyond what he had already accomplished and the never-ending purge of Claire Bible fragments, he had been since that final battle in Taforashia.

The others, the humans, had returned to their mortal lives, involving nothing that required his interference. Even Zelgadis, who he could normally follow in order to perform that one remaining mission, had apparently given up on his quest for a cure and was merely roaming aimlessly.

Xellos had been drawn to the Sorcerers’ Guild out of what humans might call boredom, mildly intrigued by the tale he had heard from a rather drunk Gourry one night during the celebrations in Taforashia, of a machine that was supposed to make copies.

Predictably, given Lina’s penchant for destruction, it was in a rather poor state when Xellos found it, but was repaired easily enough. It was an idle curiosity, really, that led him to place a small bit of his being in the machine and activate it.

He knew the moment he threw the switch, when a good portion of his energy was suddenly siphoned away, that he had made a rather large mistake.

In Xellos’ entire existence, spanning nearly a millennium, he had never—in human terms—lost consciousness. He had never, in that time, lost awareness of himself for even a moment. Even when he had taken grievous damage—from Gaav, from Valgaav, from the Ghost of Shabranigdu—that damage had been accompanied by a heightened sense of self-awareness, of the power he was bleeding away, and that had assured him that he did, indeed, still exist. There wasn’t a span of his existence that he didn’t remember.

This was different.

Like a hole had formed where there should have been memories.

Like he had ceased to be.

Xellos’ first thought struck him as rather human—he wondered if he had died. Which was, of course, preposterous. Mazoku couldn’t die per se, because they weren’t mortal. He hesitated even to consider what Lina had done to multiple Mazoku as killing or slaying. Destroying, perhaps—and then only in that they ceased to exist as individuals and merged with the Sea of Chaos—but certainly not anything associated with the mortal concept of death. What did it mean that he thought of this as dying?

Having such a philosophical discussion with himself, he realized belatedly, almost certainly meant that he still existed.

Albeit, it seemed, in a much diminished way. His awareness was limited to his body. Or, rather, his projected form on the mortal plane, rather than his Astral self. Which in itself was disturbing.

That he didn’t appear to be alone, if the feeling of warmth was any indication, was a bit more concerning.

The concern grew when he opened his eyes—such a limited way to view the world—to find that he was surrounded by nearly a dozen copies of himself, all of whom seemed to be in a similar state of confusion.

“Well, this certainly didn’t go as planned!”

It was odd to hear his voice coming from someone else. Even if that someone was technically him.

“It seems that curiosity is likely to kill the Mazoku.”

“At least, if we don’t figure out how to undo this.”

Odder still to have it come from several someones voicing his thoughts. Their thoughts.

He wasn’t entirely sure if they were the copies, or if he was a copy until they turned to him expectantly.

“This is, technically, your fault. You’re the original.”

“But he is us, so it’s all our faults.”

“It’s really a good thing we’re not mortal, or we might get a headache.”

“Headaches.”

“Whatever .”

They seemed to recognize that speaking wasn’t getting them anywhere, and fell silent, looking to him for guidance.

Xellos sighed. “Clearly we need to… merge somehow.”

“Yes, because we didn’t already know that.”

He was tempted to get annoyed, but that would mean being annoyed with himself.

“Maybe we should shut up before we have some sort of existential crisis.”

He wondered if perhaps death would have been the least painful option, which brought back the philosophical musing that he had awoken with.

“This must be what insanity feels like,” he finally said.

Xellos wasn’t surprised when none of his copies looked amused by that pronouncement, but they seemed to think better of speaking up.

This had never happened, as far as he knew. He knew that humans performed sexual acts in what seemed to be an attempt to merge in some way. Xellos had always considered them, while mildly fascinating, rather disgusting. Furthermore, it was rather unlikely to work.

But his only other option was to destroy his copies and hope not only that the power wasn’t destroyed with them, but that he could somehow absorb it. And if it didn’t work… even destroying one copy would be disastrous.

He didn’t even have to say it aloud. It was as though the copies had the same thought process as him.

“We have always wondered why humans find those acts so enjoyable.”

“Or how they could be enjoyable.”

“And it is a less drastic solution than destroying part of us.”

“Good thing we’re a voyeur or we’d be at a loss for what to do.”

None of them were particularly pleased, Xellos himself included, with that copy’s blunt honesty. But it was, after all, true. He had watched humans copulate, including those of the same gender, curious. He had seen all manner of human sexual behavior.

With the notable exception of an orgy, though he had a vague understanding of them, of the sexual pleasure being in the having of multiple partners.

When his copies reached for him, for their original, he found himself at a loss. He hadn’t expected to be the focus, but as their hands unfastened his clothing, and their own, that was exactly where he found himself.

Xellos felt strangely flushed, though certainly not out of embarrassment or trepidation. This body, the one his copies seemed intent on merging with, was only a projection.

But when sensation took over his blunted senses—the touch of hands, and mouths, and other bits of skin, wet and dry—it wasn’t clear if that was still the case at all. He had never felt so much in this form, at least not with senses this limited. He hadn’t been aware that he could become physically aroused, though he knew that he could manipulate his projection to make it appear as though it was.

Now, he truly did feel aroused, almost painfully so, and every touch seemed to make him burn with a need for more, part of a writhing pile of arousal.

He hadn’t thought it was possible for him to feel so much pleasure without taking damage from it, or that he would find pleasure in that pleasure. It was odd to crave more of it, to want those hands to caress him harder, stroke him faster.

Xellos lost all sense of time, lost in the sensation of touching and being touched, fucking and being fucked, and when his physical senses were finally overwhelmed with what he could only assume was what humans experienced as orgasm, it was a feeling of release unlike anything he had ever experienced.

This time, the hole in his memory, that brief bit of non-existence, was almost expected.

When he regained a sense of self, he was alone and whole again, the only evidence of the encounter its impression on his psyche.  He felt… oddly relaxed, sated in a way that surpassed even the feeling he got after partaking in destruction.

He wasn’t sure if it had been so enjoyable only because it was with himself, or if it could be reproduced. And, if that was possible, would he find pleasure in the pleasure of another?

Xellos couldn’t help but think this called for some experimentation.


Yeah, shockingly, this didn’t turn out to be crack-fic. I’m surprised, too!

For the Springkink prompt: Xellos/multiple copies of himself: anything-goes orgy - Xellos decides to toy with the sorcerers guild's copy lab, and things get a bit out of hand.
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