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Idol Hands	By : Clocktower Category: -Misc Anime > Crossovers Views: 2327 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not hold the copyright for the Hellsing, Harry Potter, Bayonetta, or Tomb Raider fandoms. I do not profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
Crouched in the hedgerows behind the Hellsing Manor, Lara wondered if she'd been scammed by the witch, Bayonetta. She still felt the pull of the idol, knew that Integra Hellsing hadn't moved it from its dungeon confines. Either the woman was arrogant, preoccupied with other matters, or had laid a trap. She and Seras had discussed the possibility of the latter ad nauseam. Since they couldn't be completely sure as to what the witch, Hermione, was capable of, there was nothing to do but proceed with caution.
Or at least Seras would be proceeding with caution. Lara's job was to call attention to herself without having it look like that's what she was doing, hopefully giving Seras enough of a distraction to slip in, put the idol in the repaired sarcophagus, and bring an end to all this foolishness.
Stalking through the hedgerows, Lara meant to enter the main house the same way she had before. The full moon shone brilliantly through wispy clouds. Not an ideal night for sneaking around, but Bayonetta's spell wouldn't last forever, unlike the memory of her soft, pink lips. Focus, Lara, she thought, seeing the gardener's shack, ancient and sagging, just as it had been. The window above it was closed. Later, she'd be embarrassed by how many beats her heart seemed to skip when the shack door opened and out came Sir Integra. She wore a pair of black slacks and a white, button-downed business shirt, untucked with the top buttons left undone, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. "Good evening. Ms. Lara Croft, I presume?"
The woman didn't appear armed, but that wasn't enough to make Lara lower her guard. "At your service, Sir Integra. I'm afraid you have me a bit embarrassed."
From her shirt pocket Integra pulled a tin of small cigars, stuck one in her mouth, felt her pockets for a lighter. "The embarrassment is all mine," she said. "I don't suppose you brought a lighter?"
Though she didn't smoke and knew a dozen different ways to build a fire from scratch, Lara did keep an old Zippo in her pocket. She tossed it to Integra, who caught it, not wasting a second in lighting the cigar. She blew out a long cone of smoke, and rather than toss the lighter back, casually strode over to Lara and handed it to her.
"Thank you. There's a chill in the air, let's go inside. Through the front door, if you don't mind. The window frames are expensive."
The moment Integra turned her back Lara knew she should strike. Nothing serious, just enough to stun the woman long enough for her to be bound. Lara wasn't sure why she didn't do this. Nobody was this English, she thought, following the long curtain of Integra's yellow hair around to the front of the manor, through the proper entrance. Lara felt like she'd walked into an oven. The idol's pull was like heat against Bayonetta's protective spell. She was led through the gloomy halls into a tiny sitting room made smaller by the wall decorations and dusty antiques the Hellsings had collected over the years. She had a seat on a small, black couch across from Integra, who settled into a stuffed high-backed chair.
"This is the second time, as far as I'm aware, that you've come to my home unannounced," said Integra. "If you were to announce yourself properly, I might be able to receive you better in the future."
Lara had a feeling that her arrival this time had been well-anticipated. Hopefully Seras' hadn't.
"Force of habit, I suppose," said Lara. "Not many interesting places willingly receive me these days."
Integra chuckled, knocked her ashes into a tray made from a gorilla's hand. "No, I suspect not, since your usual aim is to take things that don't belong to you."
Lara had heard similar indictments against her chosen career before, usually in the form of subpoenas or spittle-flecked diatribes either to her face or over the phone. She grinned. For once, she was the wronged party. "Things that don't belong to me don't necessarily belong to someone else, either," said Lara. "Not that it matters, since the item we're discussing right now does, in fact, belong to me."
Integra smiled darkly with her cigar between her teeth, the light staining her spectacle lenses orange. "Does it, really? That's why you were smuggling it by ship?"
"The law would've sided with me in the end, there's a long list of precedents," said Lara, somewhat defensively. "You certainly have no claim to it."
"Incorrect," said Integra. "The object was clearly responsible for the disappearances aboard the Derleth, making it a supernatural threat to England and its people. That puts it squarely under my agency's purview."
Lara would've felt much better about this conversation had she been the one to start it. It was certainly making for a fine distraction, but to whose benefit? "Forgive me, but isn't it your agency's mission to destroy such threats, not warehouse them? Seems to me that's more the Ministry's purview."
Integra scoffed, flicked more ashes into the ape's palm. "The Ministry of Magic's purview begins and ends with the witches and wizards it governs, and nothing else, despite its belief to the contrary," said Integra. "Besides, the Ministry sent one of its agents to me not long ago, and she's helping to keep an eye on it."
How much longer would charade continue? Did Integra really think Lara would simply leave, convinced that the idol now belonged to Hellsing and the Ministry of Magic? "I doubt very much that thing is properly contained, Sir Integra. I have the means to secure it, I'd ask that it be turned over to me immediately, since it's dangerous."
"So good of you to ask, after making two attempts to steal it," said Integra.
"I had a feeling you'd say no, and I didn't want to make things awkward. But, now I see that's unavoidable."
"Mmm, perhaps," said Integra, snuffing out her cigar in the ape's palm. "Let's go have a look at it, shall we? I suspect that by now my servants will have settled their differences."
Lara kept her expression flat, though internally she seethed. Of course they'd been lying in wait, knowing Lara and Seras would come. She could only hope Seras Victoria turned out to be more resourceful than Hermione Granger.
The manor's basement was not as Lara had left it. Black tendrils had spread over the walls and ceiling almost like a network of veins, some of the thicker ones sporting pustules of green, bioluminescent ooze that served as light bulbs. "I love what you've done with the place," said Lara. "It really has that 'infested by eldritch horror' vibe I heard was popular this season."
"It's always been that way," said Integra. "When my father died, my uncle showed his true colors and tried to assassinate me, to take the family headship. He hunted me like a rat through these very halls until I killed him."
Even Lara had to cock an eyebrow at that one. "I'm sorry to hear that. But, you must be able to see the thing isn't contained. Surely you're aware it's affected your mind. Your vampire servant told me all about it."
"And she'll be punished appropriately," said Integra, holding open a door for Lara to walk through.
She gasped, louder than she would've liked, at the massive hole in front of her.
The idol had been busy, fairly demolishing the manor's basement, digging down into the earth a pit for itself to grow. The heart of it remained on its altar, now fifteen meters down from where Lara stood. It had sprouted like a fungal tree, tendrils wrapping around each other, shooting upward like spires, others fanning out like roots, forming a wiggling carpet across the floor.
Seras Victoria was completely entangled in tentacles, the ones holding her up by her arms thick and powerful, lined with octopus-like suckers. Other tentacles had torn away her uniform, leaving tentacles with various specialties to envelope her. Thin, nimble ones covered her ample breasts, squeezing them, teasing their nipples erect. Powerful, grabbing tentacles held her legs apart while ones that were little more than prehensile phalluses wormed their way into her pussy and ass. Hermione stood by the sarcophagus, naked, waving her wand over it.
"You're welcome to try something," said Integra. "Though you'd be spoiling their fun, I think."
Seras' eyes were pinched shut, her lips gently parted. Lara knew the expression well, the vampire was about to cum and wanted to drag it out a little longer. Her eyes popped open upon hearing Integra speak. Something about seeing Integra and Lara together, starring down at her, must've tipped things over the edge, for her eyes shut tight again and her teeth clenched. Her legs and breasts jiggled as she was rattled to her core by a powerful orgasm.
Hermione went immediately to the vampire, holding her as she climaxed, locking lips with her, drinking in her moans. Tendrils slithered up Hermione's legs, holding her in place while others, their tips modified in various ways, some covered in bumps, others in rings, some with bulging heads. She held onto Seras as they fought to enter her, their sudden presence forcing a cry from her throat.
"I think we've all had enough fun," said Lara, sliding down the steep decline, landing on her feet in a patch of tentacles. They tried to grab her, but she was nimble, leaping and rolling her way over to the sarcophagus, where the tendrils kept their distance. Out came her pistols. One she pointed at Hermione, expecting her wand to come out, hoping she'd only hit the wood, accepting of the fact a bullet through the poor witch's hand might be necessary to end this.
Hermione held her wand by her side, more interested in kissing Seras as the tentacles enveloped and invaded them both. The sucker-covered black ropes even relaxed, allowing Seras to embrace her lover. A bullet to the vampire's neck would certainly wake her up, Lara thought, struck by the petty jealously she felt.
"Seras!" Lara shouted. "Seras! What happened?"
Seras pulled her face away from Hermione, her red eyes glazed over as the witch nibbled her neck. "Sorry," she said. "I got all tangled up, and then she came, and she was trying to help me, and then she said I was always the one, you know, in control, and we got to talking, and, well..."
Integra was suddenly behind Lara, unarmed, drawing only another cigar from her pocket. "May I borrow your lighter again?"
"That depends, are you going to try and stop me from putting the idol into the sarcophagus?"
"I don't think I need to," said Integra, looking at the tendrils ensnaring her servants, their limbs left free to envelope each other. Seras was so immersed in Hermione, Lara doubted they'd separate even if the tendrils retreated. Likely Sir Hellsing thought the idol's tentacles would never let Lara reach it. She thought wrong. Lara was off at a spring, dodging dozens of long, thick tentacles as they threw themselves at her. She dove through two of them, landed on her shoulder and came up in a roll, right in front of the altar where the idol sat. She need only yank it free from the tendrils it had conjured.
The instant she touched it she felt Bayonetta's spell blasted away. What followed was like having molten steel poured over her from a giant vat, no time to even scream before everything went dark. When consciousness returned, the air was thick as bathwater and twice as hot. She gasped, even though her airways were unobstructed. She was on her hands and knees before a throne of black tentacles, sat upon by Integra. Thin nimble, fingerlings unbuttoned her shirt and gently worked her clothes off. Lara felt them enveloping her, warm, soft, sleek but not slimy, not yet. They stripped her rather neatly, hoisting her up into a kind of stirrup chair. Seras and Hermione stood beside her, the latter playfully prodding Lara's flesh with her wand.
"I wish it hadn't damaged the basement," said Integra, "but as butlers go, it's work is impeccable. The parts of the manor it can reach have never been cleaner." She stood up from the throne, came to rest her hands on Lara's knees. "I assume even now you have some reservations. You won't after we're finished."
Integra knelt, brought her tongue between Lara's legs. She was no Seras, but she knew what she was doing. Lara felt like a piece of meat being prepped on a cutting board, only here the knife was a tongue, and rather than sunder flesh it sent sharp rods of ecstasy through Lara's body. Integra's licking was firm, methodical, tenacious whenever she sensed she'd hit a sweet spot. Lara felt fairly butchered as she came, unable or uncaring enough to stifle her cried. Hermione cooed, she'd been massaging Lara's breast and was now kissing it, teasing the nipple awake between her lips.
"You're lucky," Seras whispered into her ear. "I hope we all get a turn at this."
Lara closed her eyes and laid her head back, wallowing in the sensations stoked by the tongues on her breasts and between her legs. She cried out when she felt a tendril wiggling its way between her buttocks, finding her ass with is nub-covered head. She felt something warm and sticky, goo for lubricant. She cried louder as it entered her, overloading her flesh, blacking out her mind.
She bobbed between the world of wakefulness and the void, the latter never changing, the former always hotter, darker, and greener. A jungle of flesh, soft, salty, sometimes rubbery, slick. Every time she came back to wakefulness it was to experience was to something new, something that stirred her deep down. The three of them, choosing which tendrils to penetrate her with next, in what order. They chose well, blackness followed her nerves being set on fire. Awake again, a double-ended tendril between her and Integra. Seras took it out of them, shared the sucking of it with Hermione.
On and on it went, for how long Lara had no clue, only that she'd lost count of the depraved, delicious acts the four of them committed together. Would it ever end? It had to. Three of them were human, they could only last so long, endure so much.
XXX
Personally, Seras preferred a nice, fat tentacle to Hermione's wand, but the witch seemed to really revel watching the length of it going in and out of another woman's pussy. It was strange, but Seras could appreciate the appeal. Seras had discovered her own kink was being watched. Hermione's eyes were more than enough, but she really liked it when all three stopped to look at her while she did something immensely private. Before, Seras had only ever masturbated inside her coffin, careful not to make a peep lest someone hear and know what she was doing. Now, she liked to think they could see all the way inside her, could see the underside of her very soul as it was turned inside out by a self-induced orgasm.
They were all being turned out, she realized, watching Integra wantonly suckling Lara's breasts, satiating her lust and other nameless feelings. Seras wanted to suck them, too, and probably would in short order, just as soon as she made herself cum with the back-end of the wand. Concentrating, she eeked out an orgasm, held the wand out for Hermione to clean with her mouth. The witch had been touching herself; the taste of Seras' pussy on her wand was enough to tip her over.
Seras stood up, gently inserted the wand into Hermione's ass for safe keeping, and stretched her limbs. Had the whole day passed them by? She saw Lara holding a thick tentacle to her open mouth, holding it with one hand, stroking it mercilessly with the other until it shot a stream of thick, green goo. Lara took the tentacle into her mouth, guzzled the green stuff, some of which had spattered her chest. Integra lapped it up.
God, the sight made Seras wet. And hungry. Mostly hungry. She needed to eat. She seemed to remember guzzling several loads of the green ooze herself, and while it made her feel amazing it had done little to satiate her True Hunger. How it gnawed at her now that she'd finally noticed it. These days it was rare for her to let herself get this hungry. Going without, she'd come to see, was reckless and self-defeating. She was a different person when she was hungry. A dangerous person, one who heard voices. They lived inside of her, the voices; a man she'd loved, a monster she'd despised. She heard them now, screaming.
She went to the altar and knelt. Before her stood the idol from which everything sprouted. She felt its heavy tentacles around her legs, holding them apart while vine-like tendrils crept up her thighs, her buttocks, spread like veins up her back. She hissed as the phallus entered her, unimpeded by her tightening muscles. This one was covered in tough, rubbery nubs. She felt each one as the tentacle they belonged to twisted gently, thrusting itself in and out of her. Another entered her anus, this one twisted like a screw, making her cry out. It felt so good, she never wanted it to stop, never wanted to leave her Master, her God, but she was hungry. So hungry. The voices inside, they were angry.
She had to eat.
She reached for the idol, the god, gripped it by its base, tore it from the altar. She was its resting place now, its new sanctuary. She licked its hard, black, oily surface, found a spot to clamp her jaw around and bit. Her teeth, stronger and sharper for her hunger, penetrated the stone-like flesh, felt the sudden burning rush of godblood in her mouth. She swallowed, kept on swallowing. She didn't need to breathe, otherwise she'd have choked.
She fell, the tentacles holding her dry and brittle, crumbling.
XXX
"Well? Is she dead?"
"Deader than normal? Hard to say."
"She doesn't look dead."
Seras blinked. She was awake, though her eyes had been open the entire time, staring emptily at the holes in the drop ceiling, as if they were stars. She was in a bed, a comfy one. The old medical bay, closed off for years now.
"Stand back, there's no telling..."
Seras found herself strapped down, an IV in her arm delivering blood. To her left, Lara, in a tanktop and panties. Beside her, Hermione, wearing a long button-downed shirt and seemingly nothing else. Integra was clad in a short robe of red silk, a cigar burning between her fingers.
"Are you alright?" said Lara.
Blinking rapidly, Seras looked down between her breasts, over her stomach and naval. Her legs were strapped down, she could see no damage to her flesh or bones. The straps, she saw, were lined with silver bands, inlaid with religious symbols.
"I... what happened?"
"We're not sure," said Integra. "We remember more or less everything up until we all abruptly lost consciousness. When we awoke, the idol was encased in its sarcophagus with you lying on top of it. You've been unresponsive for the past twelve hours."
"Why... why am I still naked?"
They all looked to each other, none had an answer, nor any inclination to provide her with a blanket. She strained at her bonds. Modified though they were, she thought she could break them. While her head swam as it struggled to remember, her body felt amazing. Let them look at it, she thought, them see, let them worship her in all her splendid glory.
"So... we're done, then?" she said. "Is it over?"
"Looks that way," said Hermione. "Except I have no idea what I'm going to tell my superiors at the Ministry."
"I know what I'm going to tell them," said Integra, darkly.
"We're going to keep you here for a little while, to make sure everything is alright," said Lara, her hand gently resting on Seras' naked shoulder. Seras felt a kind of suction, as if something from her desperately wanted to flow into Lara through her fingertips, but didn't know how to do so quite yet. Seras turned her head, her eyes falling on the soft skin, bound and covered by feeble black fabric. She could rip those panties off like they were made of paper, feast on the damp, pink flesh they poorly concealed.
"I still feel strange," said Seras. "Different from before, but still odd, you know?"
All of them nodded almost imperceptibly. "We're woefully ignorant as to how the idol truly works," said Integra. "Shame it wasn't left in its desert hole until all of that was sussed out, but here we are."
"I'm going to run some tests this evening, after you've been awake for a while," said Hermione. "Magical tests, of course. I'm sure we'll understand more before too long."
Seras curled her toes, wondering what delicious tests were in store for her. She hoped they were invasive, degrading. She'd take her fill of it and later return the favor. She could see the shine in Hermione's brown eyes, the naked lust. They all had it, though they'd pretend otherwise, for a while. Eventually they'd come to her for worship, to feel completed, to feel seen. She closed her eyes as the green warmth infused her. Could they see she was wet? "I think I'm going to sleep for a bit," said Seras. "If that's alright?"
She felt their hands on her, all but Integra's, whose gaze was more than enough. They'd come to her later on, Integra first, to feel her, to worship, to idolize.
End.
- 8
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Idol Hands