The Vees: The Spark that isn't Enough
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 3
by
copier
· original author:
an188
The last rays of the Havenridge sunset painted the cliffside buildings at the edge of the mansion grounds in bloody gold. Inside the largest seminar hall of the Apex Self-Mastery Institute, the final session of the day was wrapping up.
Velvette stood on the small stage, one hand on her hip, the other scrolling through her phone even as she addressed the modest crowd of thirty or so young hopefuls—actors, influencers, models, all clutching notebooks and hungry eyes.
“Listen up, darlings,” she drawled in that sharp British-valley-girl blend, magenta pigtails swaying like living ribbons. “You want to glow up? You want the brands, the followers, the contracts? Then stop being basic. Buy the book, book the next level, and maybe—just maybe—you won’t stay irrelevant.” She flashed a razor smile, red sclera gleaming. “Class dismissed. Now go spend your money wisely.”
A smattering of applause. A few nervous laughs. The audience began to file toward the exits, but the real finale was about to begin.
The lights dimmed, the large screen behind the stage flickered to life with swirling cyan graphics, and the crowd instinctively turned back. A single spotlight hit the center stage.
Vox stepped forward.
He was electric even in stillness—tall, sharp-shouldered, black-and-cyan tuxedo shimmering under the lights like a living broadcast signal. Short brown hair perfectly slicked, hawkish nose casting a dramatic shadow, and those mismatched eyes—one vivid green, one bright cyan—scanning the room like he already owned every soul in it.
He spread his arms wide, voice smooth, theatrical, and dripping with that signature Vox charisma.
“My dear, beautiful seekers of greatness,” he began, the words rolling out like a late-night infomercial crossed with a sermon. “You came here today because something inside you refused to stay small. You felt the spark. You felt the call. And tonight… tonight you take the first real step toward your destiny.”
He paced, hands gesturing like he was conducting an orchestra only he could see.
“Remember: the Apex Path isn’t just self-help. It’s ascension. It’s power. And every single one of you—” his heterochromatic gaze swept the room, making several people straighten up “—has the potential to shine under the light of true masters.”
A few people were already pulling out credit cards. By the time Vox finished with his signature closing line—“The future isn’t coming. It’s already here… and it’s wearing our faces”—the registration table was mobbed. Some signed up for the next tier of courses. Most bought at least one book: Vox’s thick tome The Signal of You, Velvette’s glossy Aesthetic Ascension, or Valentino’s sultry Pleasure Protocols.
Valentino leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, heart-shaped cerise sunglasses glowing faintly. His long lavender braids draped over one shoulder, white fur coat open just enough to show the gold chain dangling between his pierced nipples. He grinned, sharp teeth flashing.
“Mmm, not bad for a Tuesday, eh?” he purred in that rolling Spanish accent, voice low and smoky. “We made good paper tonight, mi amor.”
Velvette was already filming. She snapped several selfies with the crowd in the background, then posted rapid-fire to her private (and very exclusive) socials:
“Just wrapped another sold-out Mastery Day 💅 These little wannabes actually think they can buy their way to the top. Cute. Anyway, bought three new designer pieces on the way home because I can. #VeesVibes #StayJealous”
She smirked at her screen, orange-golden skin glowing under the phone light. “Money’s flowing, the books are selling, and my engagement is through the roof. I’m satisfied, babes.”
But Vox wasn’t smiling.
The moment the last attendee left and the doors clicked shut, his charismatic mask cracked. The cyan eye flickered like a bad signal. He slammed a hand against the podium, voice dropping into something far colder.
“Thirty people. Thirty. We had thirty fucking people in the room today.”
Valentino tilted his head. “We made bank, cariño—”
“I don’t want their money!” Vox snarled, static crackling at the edges of his voice. “I want their souls. I want millions on their knees calling us God. I want cities chanting our names. I want the world to wake up every morning and know they belong to us. This—” he gestured wildly at the empty hall “—this is nothing. A pathetic little club for desperate dreamers. We should be a movement. We should be a religion that owns the planet.”
Velvette rolled her eyes but stepped closer, wings twitching. “Darling, we’re still building. The bureaucracy’s on paper, the ranks are coming—”
“I don’t want paper!” Vox’s heterochromatic eyes blazed. His hands shook. “I want control. I want enslavement. I want them to bleed for us and thank us for it.”
The air grew thick. Vox’s breathing turned ragged, the first dangerous sparks of a full meltdown dancing at his fingertips.
Valentino and Velvette exchanged a single look—the one they’d perfected over months of managing their volatile leader.
Valentino moved first, sliding behind Vox and pressing his tall, warm body close. One gold-ringed hand trailed slowly down Vox’s chest while the other cupped his jaw, tilting his head back.
“Shhh, mi pequeño rey,” he murmured, lips brushing Vox’s ear, Spanish thick and honey-sweet. “You’re so tense… Let us take care of you.”
Velvette stepped in front, smirking that signature bitchy smirk as she ran manicured nails down Vox’s tie, loosening it with deliberate slowness.
“Come on, Daddy,” she purred, British lilt dripping with filthy promise. “You know what always calms that big, beautiful god-complex of yours. Let’s go home. The three of us. No audience. No limits.”
Vox’s breath hitched. The static in his voice stuttered into something hungrier.
They barely made it inside the Spanish-style mansion before clothes started coming off.
The moment the heavy doors closed, Valentino shoved Vox against the nearest wall, capturing his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss while his hands roamed greedily. Velvette pressed in from the other side, wings flaring as she bit Vox’s neck and slid her fingers under his shirt, nails dragging over skin. Hands everywhere—gold rings, magenta ribbons, cyan sparks—clothes hit the marble floor in a trail leading deeper into the mansion.
By the time they reached the grand central lounge, the three of them were naked and frantic. Valentino dropped to his knees first, mouth hot and eager, while Velvette pulled Vox into a messy, tongue-heavy kiss, her body grinding against his. Moans echoed off the stucco walls—Valentino’s low Spanish curses, Velvette’s sharp British gasps, Vox’s glitching, desperate groans as the three of them lost themselves completely.
It was raw, loud, and unrestrained: bodies tangled on expensive rugs, hands and mouths claiming every inch, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne, sweat, and pure hedonistic release. Vox finally shattered between them with a broken, staticky cry, the other two following moments later in a messy, satisfied heap.
Now they lay exhausted on the cool marble floor of the mansion’s main hall, limbs tangled, chests heaving. Vox stared at the ceiling, cyan eye still faintly flickering. Velvette lazily traced patterns on his chest with one nail. Valentino pressed lazy kisses to Vox’s shoulder, purring in Spanish.
The silence stretched… until Vox spoke, voice low and dangerous again.
“We need more power. Real power. Not this slow crawl.”
He sat up slightly, heterochromatic eyes gleaming with fresh obsession.
“So tell me, my loves… which path do we take to finally become unstoppable?”
How the Vees will pursue to seize true god-like power?
1. Meteorite – A mysterious cosmic artifact crashes near the cliff, offering unknown but terrifying potential.
2. Science – Vox dives into forbidden technological experiments to amplify their influence and control.
3. Magic – They uncover ancient occult texts and begin experimenting with real supernatural forces.
Reply with your choice (1, 2, or 3) to continue the story.
Velvette stood on the small stage, one hand on her hip, the other scrolling through her phone even as she addressed the modest crowd of thirty or so young hopefuls—actors, influencers, models, all clutching notebooks and hungry eyes.
“Listen up, darlings,” she drawled in that sharp British-valley-girl blend, magenta pigtails swaying like living ribbons. “You want to glow up? You want the brands, the followers, the contracts? Then stop being basic. Buy the book, book the next level, and maybe—just maybe—you won’t stay irrelevant.” She flashed a razor smile, red sclera gleaming. “Class dismissed. Now go spend your money wisely.”
A smattering of applause. A few nervous laughs. The audience began to file toward the exits, but the real finale was about to begin.
The lights dimmed, the large screen behind the stage flickered to life with swirling cyan graphics, and the crowd instinctively turned back. A single spotlight hit the center stage.
Vox stepped forward.
He was electric even in stillness—tall, sharp-shouldered, black-and-cyan tuxedo shimmering under the lights like a living broadcast signal. Short brown hair perfectly slicked, hawkish nose casting a dramatic shadow, and those mismatched eyes—one vivid green, one bright cyan—scanning the room like he already owned every soul in it.
He spread his arms wide, voice smooth, theatrical, and dripping with that signature Vox charisma.
“My dear, beautiful seekers of greatness,” he began, the words rolling out like a late-night infomercial crossed with a sermon. “You came here today because something inside you refused to stay small. You felt the spark. You felt the call. And tonight… tonight you take the first real step toward your destiny.”
He paced, hands gesturing like he was conducting an orchestra only he could see.
“Remember: the Apex Path isn’t just self-help. It’s ascension. It’s power. And every single one of you—” his heterochromatic gaze swept the room, making several people straighten up “—has the potential to shine under the light of true masters.”
A few people were already pulling out credit cards. By the time Vox finished with his signature closing line—“The future isn’t coming. It’s already here… and it’s wearing our faces”—the registration table was mobbed. Some signed up for the next tier of courses. Most bought at least one book: Vox’s thick tome The Signal of You, Velvette’s glossy Aesthetic Ascension, or Valentino’s sultry Pleasure Protocols.
Valentino leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, heart-shaped cerise sunglasses glowing faintly. His long lavender braids draped over one shoulder, white fur coat open just enough to show the gold chain dangling between his pierced nipples. He grinned, sharp teeth flashing.
“Mmm, not bad for a Tuesday, eh?” he purred in that rolling Spanish accent, voice low and smoky. “We made good paper tonight, mi amor.”
Velvette was already filming. She snapped several selfies with the crowd in the background, then posted rapid-fire to her private (and very exclusive) socials:
“Just wrapped another sold-out Mastery Day 💅 These little wannabes actually think they can buy their way to the top. Cute. Anyway, bought three new designer pieces on the way home because I can. #VeesVibes #StayJealous”
She smirked at her screen, orange-golden skin glowing under the phone light. “Money’s flowing, the books are selling, and my engagement is through the roof. I’m satisfied, babes.”
But Vox wasn’t smiling.
The moment the last attendee left and the doors clicked shut, his charismatic mask cracked. The cyan eye flickered like a bad signal. He slammed a hand against the podium, voice dropping into something far colder.
“Thirty people. Thirty. We had thirty fucking people in the room today.”
Valentino tilted his head. “We made bank, cariño—”
“I don’t want their money!” Vox snarled, static crackling at the edges of his voice. “I want their souls. I want millions on their knees calling us God. I want cities chanting our names. I want the world to wake up every morning and know they belong to us. This—” he gestured wildly at the empty hall “—this is nothing. A pathetic little club for desperate dreamers. We should be a movement. We should be a religion that owns the planet.”
Velvette rolled her eyes but stepped closer, wings twitching. “Darling, we’re still building. The bureaucracy’s on paper, the ranks are coming—”
“I don’t want paper!” Vox’s heterochromatic eyes blazed. His hands shook. “I want control. I want enslavement. I want them to bleed for us and thank us for it.”
The air grew thick. Vox’s breathing turned ragged, the first dangerous sparks of a full meltdown dancing at his fingertips.
Valentino and Velvette exchanged a single look—the one they’d perfected over months of managing their volatile leader.
Valentino moved first, sliding behind Vox and pressing his tall, warm body close. One gold-ringed hand trailed slowly down Vox’s chest while the other cupped his jaw, tilting his head back.
“Shhh, mi pequeño rey,” he murmured, lips brushing Vox’s ear, Spanish thick and honey-sweet. “You’re so tense… Let us take care of you.”
Velvette stepped in front, smirking that signature bitchy smirk as she ran manicured nails down Vox’s tie, loosening it with deliberate slowness.
“Come on, Daddy,” she purred, British lilt dripping with filthy promise. “You know what always calms that big, beautiful god-complex of yours. Let’s go home. The three of us. No audience. No limits.”
Vox’s breath hitched. The static in his voice stuttered into something hungrier.
They barely made it inside the Spanish-style mansion before clothes started coming off.
The moment the heavy doors closed, Valentino shoved Vox against the nearest wall, capturing his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss while his hands roamed greedily. Velvette pressed in from the other side, wings flaring as she bit Vox’s neck and slid her fingers under his shirt, nails dragging over skin. Hands everywhere—gold rings, magenta ribbons, cyan sparks—clothes hit the marble floor in a trail leading deeper into the mansion.
By the time they reached the grand central lounge, the three of them were naked and frantic. Valentino dropped to his knees first, mouth hot and eager, while Velvette pulled Vox into a messy, tongue-heavy kiss, her body grinding against his. Moans echoed off the stucco walls—Valentino’s low Spanish curses, Velvette’s sharp British gasps, Vox’s glitching, desperate groans as the three of them lost themselves completely.
It was raw, loud, and unrestrained: bodies tangled on expensive rugs, hands and mouths claiming every inch, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne, sweat, and pure hedonistic release. Vox finally shattered between them with a broken, staticky cry, the other two following moments later in a messy, satisfied heap.
Now they lay exhausted on the cool marble floor of the mansion’s main hall, limbs tangled, chests heaving. Vox stared at the ceiling, cyan eye still faintly flickering. Velvette lazily traced patterns on his chest with one nail. Valentino pressed lazy kisses to Vox’s shoulder, purring in Spanish.
The silence stretched… until Vox spoke, voice low and dangerous again.
“We need more power. Real power. Not this slow crawl.”
He sat up slightly, heterochromatic eyes gleaming with fresh obsession.
“So tell me, my loves… which path do we take to finally become unstoppable?”
How the Vees will pursue to seize true god-like power?
1. Meteorite – A mysterious cosmic artifact crashes near the cliff, offering unknown but terrifying potential.
2. Science – Vox dives into forbidden technological experiments to amplify their influence and control.
3. Magic – They uncover ancient occult texts and begin experimenting with real supernatural forces.
Reply with your choice (1, 2, or 3) to continue the story.
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June 13
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