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Foreword

An important note, in one of the later scenes I went a bit extreme with the perversion and had debated whether to release a 'cleaner' version of the story along side this. I decided against it simply for the fact that this is the story I want to tell, and cleaning it up for weaker sensibilities may do more harm than good. She must look back and remember the experience, if it were too tame it would make people question what the big deal was. So take that as a warning and enjoy.

Desires of Demons

Part 3: End of Innocence

The world was a dying world, the star was a dying star and the Djheni were a fading people. I knew little of science at the time and even less of cultural evolution, but I knew it even then. Where had the water gone? Why were there so few species of plant and animal? Why were all the great works remembered as myth and legend? why had they lost the war with the humans? Admittedly Emorre was a great city, but it too was in its final twilight.

-1-

The Accident

She remembered feeling the forges as work began. Potent energies radiating from the bowels of the city Emorre. She remembered waking up in a cold sweat, body pulsating with the rhythm of the chanters as they called forth fire and force. She remembered calling forth these energies herself in the darkness of her room, in a half dream like state. This was when the fear began, even when she had killed with the sweetness of her lust they had not feared. But from then on there was an tinge in the eyes of guard and chanter alike.

They found her, huddled against the one intact corner, her bedding turned to ash around her. Everything had burned or knocked from the tower to rain down upon the wall. As they called the fire, she too called the fire... but with no focus and no understanding of what she did, the fire poured from her and bathed the room. Fire as hot as the sun, fire to melt stone and metal. Then came the force, again undirected and undisciplined. Glowing and melting walls were thrown in to the dark night, the ceiling caved in then ruptured outward. Burning pebbles rained down upon the parapets below, many were hurt but none killed.

At first they thought it was a raid and rallied forces to the walls. But the tower cooled and the night stilled, there was no attack. Omolaud found her shortly there after, cowering and soot stained but surprisingly unharmed. The evidence pointed to her, she had wielded those forces, though she didn't know how or why.

She awoke late in to the morning in one of the lower chambers. A pressure was upon her, so great she felt as if she couldn't breathe. It took her a short while to recognize it as the same magical pressure the death chanters had put upon her once before. This time it was only minors of the chantry, far weaker but enough. They halted once she was awake and filtered out of the room, leaving only Knaira and Omolaud.

The two Djheni were chatting amicably to one another in the far corner of the room. Their attention eventually drifted to Delilah as she sat up and ran fingers through her singed hair.

Knaira addressed her with a half smile "You know Delilah, when I was a few years older than you, I too woke with the power squeezing at my throat to get out. But I only managed to make my bedsheets dance." Then he laughed outright, "It is going to take us weeks to rebuild the tower, the stone itself is cursed they tell me, crumbling at the lightest touch. We are going to have to quarry it anew and you are going to help them."

Delilah frowned, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping arms about then oh so quietly asked, "What happened?"

He snorted, "You blew up my spire! The great manhood of my keep, and you destroyed it." Then he turned to Omolaud, "See to it that she is properly trained and put to work, we can't have her felling every tower in my house, I will be a laughing stock!" Then he stood and left as quickly as his feet would take him, leaving them both looking rather upset.

"He's nervous child, he doesn't know what to make of you or your strange gifts. For that matter, neither do I. Tell me what you remember." Omolaud spoke quietly, crossing the room to sit at her side.

Delilah leaned in to the warmth of the older woman and murmured as she looked at the floor, "I felt like something was calling me. Pulling and pushing." She paused and asked, "Do you know what the tides are?" she had recalled reading of them in science books her mother had strewn about as a young child.

"Yes, water pushed and pulled in response to the moon upon your earth. I've never seen a tide in person, though I have seen your moon and the ocean." Omolaud remembered.

"It was like that, every fiber of my body being pulled toward something, than pushed toward something else. When I finally came awake, the room was on fire. I remember that tide though, in fact, I still feel it." Delilah whispered as she looked toward one corner of the room, and pointed, "From there, that direction. It isn't so bad now, it must have gotten in to my dreams."

Omolaud frowned, then stood, holding her hand for Delilah, "Come with me child. I think I know what you are feeling."

Down below the keep they went, following a wide spiral ramp then a long wide hallway that lead in to a great open space deep in the bedrock. The heat was almost unbearable and the sound even worse. Great booms and clangs that shook the floor under their feet. The room was lined in huge forges where molten metal spilled glowing streamers, sparks flew, and powerful energies crashed against heat to forge wondrous works.

She was right, this was where her tide had centered upon. Deep and low, the chanting would have shaken the floor itself but for the the work itself. Chanting for heat, chanting for force, chanting in time. These were not great magi, these were the forge masters, called to do their exhausting craft.

As Delilah watched a great sheet of glowing metal was pulled from a pool of molten heat. It was rough and jagged, the heat drawn from it and passed to another, allowing it to solidify. She could feel each spell, she could see the flow of energy rippling through the room. Great arcs of heat passing across the ceiling, making the air ripple and glow.

Then the booming began anew as that great sheet of jagged metal was pounded by two dozen forge masters. Not just chanting though, they moved and pushed, their bodies flexing as if practicing Tai Chi. All in time to the rhythm of their chant. With each lean, another great boom shook the room, and the metal deformed. Then they pulled and the metal took a new shape. They hammered it against a wall of solid iron and shaped it in to a perfectly smooth mirror of copper twenty feet high and ten across.

The rhythm changed, the chant shifted to something sharper, and the great sheet began to crease . They chopped through it, cutting it down in to individual bars which others caught in lesser spells and carried through the air to the smaller forges. Like some great choreographed dance every one of the hundred Djheni moved in time, energies whirling, never stopping. Even the rest periods were in time with the work. No human factory had ever run so smooth, it was an awesome sight to behold.

"Yes." She told Omolaud, on her tiptoes to reach her ear, "This is what called me, I can feel each of them, individual voices that tugged at my heart last night." She paused for a moment, then murmured, "It's beautiful."

Omolaud nodded slightly as she stared more at Delilah than the work being done. This was menial labor, none of these Djheni were strong enough to wield any great spell, so they had to work together. She supposed there was some small honor in how well they worked, they were one of the fastest forges in the world and kept Emorre quite rich.

They watched for perhaps an hour, and every so often Omolaud caught Delilah's lips moving and body swaying in time. "Tell me child, what do you see that I do not? All I see is hard, hot, soot stained labor."

The girl was silent for a long time, her eyes unfocused and head back. When she spoke, it was far away, almost dreamy, "Each man its a small ember of energy, a focal point. Each point adding to the whole, like embers in a fire adding to the heat. So slowly do they burn. They pull dust from the core of the planet, reaching far and wide to draw it in as a fire drawing in oxygen from the air and fuel from the wood. Then above the fire is a bellows, more force than heat, leaping plumes of energy crashing to break upon the anvil. But beyond all that, it is a perfect dance of creation. I can feel each song in my bones as if a fiber being woven in to a thread, and from a thread to a string, and I am the eyelet through which that string forms in to a great rope that pulls every action in this great machine. It is not so much what I see Omolaud, but I feel everything, so much effort, such perfect timing, and it all flows through me."

Her words echoed in the silent room, and that echo was like a slap in the face. Her eyes focused and her head jerked up. The forges were cooling, the work complete, and every one of those hundred faces were focused upon her and her words. She blushed and slipped half behind Omolaud, truly embarrassed to her core.

Sound began again, muttering and rapid talking, then the foreman plucked a brick from the pile of copper and made his way up to the two of them, "Then it must be you we have to thank for smoothing the work. We have done almost twice the load we did last time. Here, this is your share for the work." He handed her the heavy ingot, almost larger than she could carry.

Omolaud spoke up, "You mean she was assisting all night long?"

"Indeed she was, with every draw we pulled twice as much copper from the bedrock than we normally did as if our work was being doubled. It wasn't until you both arrived that we could determine who. May I have the name of whom to thank?" The foreman asked, looking quite pleased.

Again Omolaud spoke up, "This is Delilah, Knaira's Ward."

The foreman's eye-ridges rose in surprise, "Oh is that so. I had heard strange things-It seems the stories were at least partially true. A pleasure to work with you Delilah, come down to my forge and help any time you like."

Delilah stood a little straighter, arms wrapped around the still warm copper, it had to be close to a hundred lbs or more, "What stories?" She asked, frowning.

He paused, lips pursed as he gazed down at the girl, "Ah nothing too bad. There was talk last year of powerful magi slain at your hand. Also of the golden haired meru in the tower who's eyes pierce every wall and see to the heart of a man." He grinned at her in a friendly manner, "Stable sweepings of course, you are a downright charming lad."

She started to correct him, then remembered where and what she was. Yes, she was a 'boy' growing to be a man, a Djheni man. To be a girl would mean servitude, a meru. Somewhere inside there was a twinge of disgust and the memory of her mother crept up in the back of her mind.

"Thank you." She replied with a small smile, quelling the disturbance within. "What is your name so I might find your forge?"

"I am Foreman Amaunan." He told her, with a graceful flourish, then turned back to his men and started barking orders. Within minutes the great carts of copper bars were loaded and being dragged from the great room and up the hall. A hundred tons of copper, perhaps more, each brick stamped with the mark of Emorre.

Omolaud just stared at Delilah, not knowing what to make of her, "Perhaps..." She began, then stopped as a cart passed drawn by 5 Djheni, the great wheels creeking and copper clanking noisily, "Perhaps we should get to work."

The great forge below Emorre was truly a wonder to behold. The raw power wielded by the Djheni there was such that could have leveled cities. However the Djheni nobles and magi saw it as little more than drudge work, only suited for the lowest of the chantry. But even as a child I recognized it as the true power behind Emorre.

-2-

The Quarry

Four tons of marble came falling toward Delilah, then stopped in mid air, held aloft by the force of her chant. Though the work was less majestic as that in the forge, it too had a certain beauty to it. Her skills were far too unrefined to cut or shape so they put her to work using the raw force of her words. The work took its toll on her, every night she fell in to bed exhausted, every morning she woke before dawn to the breakfast gong, still exhausted.

Great slabs of marble fell away from the central piece, sheared by sharper spells and pulled free by other lifters. Then the central stone was laid to the cart to be dragged back to the keep a day's march from here. With a loud crack a second hunk of the quarry face fell towards her, and she caught it, arms upraised as if grasping at the massive boulder. None of the others moved as they chanted, this was not the forge. They stood with hands clasped, chanting with heads up, as if they were statues, made of the stone they worked.

She was alone here, Omolaud was not allowed to leave the keep, and her one other friend stuck on guard duty... not that he wanted to be out here working in the blazing sun. She knew he was far happier lazing in the shade of the harem complex, watching the beautiful meru weave their cloth. She made no friends here, though she worked hard, she was too different and had little love for these stoic Djheni. She did however learn and learn well, chanting her crude spells well enough to be entrusted with the heavier lifting. One mistake by her could have caused many deaths, so she made not one credible mistake.

By nightfall she was again weary, taking her bowl of stew to her tent and sitting upon the warm sand to eat. She had a secret, something she kept from the quarrymen. She had made mistakes in her chant, she had even forgotten to chant once, but still the magic held. There she sat gazing down in to her meal, and gestured. The meal quivered then pulled up in to a column of broth and meat. She made no sound, but her gestures held as a somatic spell.

Tonight she did something more. As the stew rotated slowly in that glistening column, she focused on it, and let her hands fall. Still the spell stayed, held only by her will. Beads of sweat broke out on her brow, her concentration so focused she could see nothing but her dinner. Her vision began to tunnel, and she remembered to breathe. With that first breath however it fell back in to her bowl with a splash. She knew this was a secret best kept, she also knew it was something she would have to practice frequently.

The next morning was more of the same, breakfast, than hiking down to the quarry to begin just as the first rays of sun struck the mountain top. Crack and the first stone came crashing down. She caught it with a soft chant, hands lifted towards it. Others began to slice away at its faces, carving it in to the perfect shape and taking away the larger chunks for other purposes.

One by one the carts were filled with the great blocks, then drawn away back to the keep. Today was to be the last day, or so the foreman said. By mid afternoon the last carts were loaded, the tents were packed up, and Delilah was handed a rope and told to pull. So she pulled, without magic, without the spells that made her as strong as the rest, she pulled and was humbled. Each of the Djheni were as strong as ten men and she wasn't even a man. Her hands grew raw and feet grew sore, and by the time the gates to Emorre came in to view she was more exhausted than she could ever remember.

Her cart was in the rear now, having been long passed by those with stronger Djheni. The others at the ropes looked annoyed to be so late, they would have far less time in the taverns, and they blamed her. She wondered if she would ever be as strong as the average Djheni.

Once inside the city gates, they dragged the great creaking cart up the main road to the keep itself.. where they dropped the ropes and walked away, leaving those with higher privilege to drag them inside. For a moment she hesitated, staring at the opening gate, then turned away and followed the other quarrymen back down the road. A few went their own way, but the rest went to a single door, from a building she had seen from her tower over the years. A busy place where frequently she could hear laughter and banter, even from half way across the city. There she stopped.

"Are you coming?" One of the quarrymen asked, holding the door open and peering back at her through the night. She hesitated only a moment longer, then followed.

"Sorry, I've just never been here before." she mumbled in response as she passed under his arm and in to the noisy entryway.

He squinted down at her in the lamp light of the tavern, "How old are you anyway? You seem too young to be working the quarry."

She thought for a moment, then shrugged slightly, not really sure as there had been no counting of days weeks or months. She truly had no idea how long she had been here, "13" She volunteered, it sounded old enough to work, but too young to be mature, though she thought she was no older than 10.

Together they made their way to a table, crowded with other quarrymen. Beaded meru laid about, enticing and teasing the Djheni, one sprawled across a lap, grinding herself in to his penile slit. Delilah looked away and found herself a seat off to a side. She was provided with a stone mug filled with a bitter milky drink of which the rest were downing in great gulps. She followed suit, gagging as a chunk of something got stuck in her throat for a moment. It burned its way down, making her gasp. That gasp made it even worse as the alcoholic fumes filled her lungs and made her choke all the louder. There was laughter around the table, a few smiles and well mannered jests sent her way, "old enough to work, old enough to drink and wench." one near her said and she tried to put on a 'manly' smirk.

The next drink she was more careful with, exhaling after swallowing and never quite making as much of a fool of herself. Hours passed, and she joined in with conversations, not exactly making friends, but no longer as alienated. Quite thoroughly drunk, she found herself with a meru whimpering in her ear and pressing warm wetness against her thigh. There was no doubt in her mind that she couldn't fulfill that kind of experience, but her body wanted to. There was the old familiar fire in her sex and a new twinge of hunger in her stomach for something more.

She was a pretty meru, bead piercings about her breasts, neck, hips, and a few hanging from her damp vulva. They clicked softly every time the woman ground herself in to Delilah's thigh and it drove her hunger higher. She could feel a swelling in her belly, slit bulging slightly and growing damp. A single rivulet of arousal ran from it down between her legs but no erection spilled forth. At last, she wrenched away, pushing the meru from her lap on to the table and stood up. Then abruptly fell over backwards, the world whirling about her in a drunken haze.

There was more laughter, and she managed to say, "I think I am...." She belched then continued, "Too drunk." Trying to get her wobbling legs under her, she cursed and grasped the table, "Could one of you help me?" She asked. A hand took a hold of hers and lifted her to her feet. She looked up, seeing a familiar face, "Deurak." She mumbled and grinned from ear to ear.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Knaira sent me looking for you, what are you doing in a place like this?" He sounded angry, but also concerned.

One of the quarrymen spoke up, "Ohh one of the royal guards come down to grace us with your presence? What do you want with little Del-Delae-our boy there?"

Deurak snapped back at the man, "Delilah is one of Knaira's wards, he was sent to the quarry as punishment and was supposed to be back in the keep by now."

That stopped the laughter right quick, all of them staring at her, every bit of camaraderie lost with those words, she was now a stranger to them, "What did he do?" the quarryman asked.

Deurak smirked and glanced to Delilah, who replied in a quiet voice, "I broke the tower."

There were mutterings and frowns all around, even Deurak's eye-ridges raised in surprise. So, there had been no word of it before, and now everyone knew. She fled, wrenching out of Deurak's grasp and rushing to the door. She tripped over her feet but caught herself on a support then was out in to the night. She stopped and waited in the shadows for Deurak to join her.

"Thanks." She muttered angrily at him, "For a few minutes I felt normal."

He took her hand and quietly apologized, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Do you really feel you are so strange?" He peered at her, the gold of his eyes reflecting the starlight.

"I destroyed the tower while dreaming, I scare the magi and make my foster father nervous. I have no friends here and no peers. I'm not a human, not a Djheni, not a meru." She stopped as the door burst open again, laughter and chatter filling the street, and light slashing across the cobblestone. A handful of Djheni stumbled out, leaning on each other to keep from collapsing.

Deurak lead her away and up toward the keep, she could see the silhouette of the broken tower against the stars and it just made her feel even more alone.

The keep was brightly lit, even the courtyard. She could see the hundreds of stone blocks not yet set to the tower. As they entered Knaira was alerted and she found herself face to face with him in the entrance hall, "Are you drunk?" He asked, frowning at her with arms crossed over his chest, face set with worry and anger.

She nodded slightly, hanging on Deurak's hand to keep herself from stumbling. But she said nothing, just stood there, covered in stone dust, reeking of alcohol, and rather exhausted. He started to turn away, head shaking, but Deurak stopped him, "My Liege, there is something I must discuss with you." He seemed nervous, speaking up like that, and went quiet almost immediately.

Knaira glanced back and nodded slightly, "Put Delilah to bed, then come to my fore room." Deurak nodded and lead Delilah, stumbling, to bed.

The work over the next week was not nearly as hard, lifting and fitting stones in to the tower while others fused them together, creating a near seamless construction. The masons were all magi, this work took raw magical power as well as high finesse and skill. Delilah's efforts were appreciated, though the word had spread and everyone knew the tower had been her fault. Another rumor had started, that she was being taught ancient and powerful spells, and that one of them had gone awry that night.

When it was finished, she stood on the balcony, looking out over the city once again. Somehow she had missed this vantage point and there was a deep satisfaction in knowing that she had rebuilt it. They had in fact rebuilt half the tower, as the magics she wielded that night had weakened the stone for five floors.

Omolaud had been busy caring for wounded and a handful of births so Delilah had seen her only briefly. Now she stood at her side, frowning out over the city, "So, I heard you caused quite a stir at the Fallen Orray. A noble caught drinking away with the common folk." there was a hint of a smile growing on her face.

Delilah shrugged and pointed toward it, "I have seen it many times, heard the laughter. Here I am, sitting in my ivory tower. I didn't even know I was a noble, whatever that means here." She laughed at a thought in her head, then uttered it aloud, "Rapunzel Rapunzel let down your hair." Then threw her long golden hair over her shoulder and let it brush over the freshly smoothed marble, "I do not think my hair is long enough for a prince to climb to my rescue." She wasn't sure she wanted a prince anyway, but she kept that thought to herself.

Omolaud laughed and turned to Delilah, "You've grown an even sharper tongue, girl."

"Boy." Delilah quipped back.

"We shall see about that, as far as I am aware you lack the equipment." The matron snapped back and Delilah's head dropped.

"I don't want to be meru like my mother." Delilah whispered, "She is a fool, pampered and doted on at the expense of everyone we ever knew. All our friends dead or kidnapped to be human meru, so far away from home. I can't look at them, any of them, it makes me sick."

A hand laid to Delilah's shoulder, and squeezed, "It isn't as bad as all that, most of them are comfortable, a few were given to lesser nobles. In fact one of the elder women was asking about you last week. She was worried after the accident, I told her you were fine."

Delilah's head lifted again, "How is Mrs. Willard? She must have given birth by now."

"She is on her third and close to popping at that. It is taking its toll on her, I think she is due for a respite. Otherwise she is well, learning to weave and she doesn't even need the fire of the Achera any longer. Why don't we go see her? They may not let you back in to the harem complex for years." Omolaud told her and turned her toward the stair.

"Not let me... what, why?" She asked quickly, and followed down the stairs.

"You are moving out, a house is being prepared for you now, tomorrow morning you move in. It is still within the keep walls but outside of the main complex." Omolaud replied.

"Will you be able to visit me there?." Delilah asked, frowning up at her.

Omolaud nodded, still smiling, "I'll be staying with you as servant and Deurak is being assigned as house guard. Whatever he said to Knaira had an impact, you've wrapped that boy around your finger."

The harem was dark and fairly quiet, though the sounds of pleasure could be heard from the occasional closed door. To the end of the hall, then half way down the next, Omolaud opened a heavy door and allowed Delilah in, then shut it behind her, staying outside.

The room was very dark, though she could see the heated outline of a sleeping body, stomach swollen with late pregnancy. She sat at the edge of the bed, and laid a hand to the woman's shoulder. She felt thin and frail, Delilah wondered if she was eating well or if she was starving herself. The sleeper stirred and pulled away from Delilah's touch, "It's okay Mrs. Willard, its Delilah." She said quietly.

"Oh! Delilah, Omolaud said you were working in a quarry." She said, then sat up, "And would you stop calling me that, I'm hardly a Mrs any longer. Jacob almost certainly thinks I'm dead and has probably gotten remarried."

Delilah frowned, "I don't think I know your first name. Momma always called you Mrs. Willard, and the kids always called you Mom. Mr. Willard always called you hon, sweetie or sugar."

The older woman laughed, "Oh dear me, Rachel." Delilah conjured a flame with a soft whispered chant and lit the lantern next to the bed. She could see Rachel's grin fading in to a strange frown, "How did you..."

"Magic, Mrs... I mean Rachel. I've been learning magic. It was my fault the tower was damaged." Delilah told her, and looked over Rachel's body. She was naked, and still quite beautiful, though she did look worn, with sunken eyes and her collar bones sticking out against her pale skin, "You don't look well, are you eating?"

Rachel nodded and her mouth twisted in to a sardonic smile, "Tripplets. Apperently demons come in litters occasionally. I eat and eat and eat, but its never enough. You though, you are even bigger than when I last saw you, and darker too. Get a lot of sun out at the quarry?"

Delilah smiled and slid closer across the bed, sitting herself at Rachel's side and wraping an arm around her. She was taller now, though she still felt small compared to the Djheni, "Quite a lot, and I should be bigger, I was lifting thousand pound blocks of marble every day for over a week." Delilah told her, then lifted an arm to show off her muscles. They were in fact fairly impressive, at least for a human, she did not feel very strong next to the rest of the Djheni either.

"Magic again, I assume? Please tell me they aren't doping you with steroids." Rachel's look was rather incredulous, and a hand reached out to touch that arm, feeling how strong she was.

"Yes, magic. Though dragging the last cart back was pure muscle. Oh how tired I was. Cause of me we were quite late back, it was well after dark when we left it in front of the keep. The other Djheni were rather annoyed I think, I don't even compare to their strength."

"Dyenhe?" Rachel prompted.

"The demon's, their actual name is Djheni." And she spelled it for her, in both english and the Djheni alphabet, etching the words in the air with her magic.

Rachel leaned in against her, cheek to chest, and curled herself in close, "You don't look much like the little girl who stole cookies all those years ago... You don't look much like a Dy-jen-he either, but your heart is still in the right place and that's what matters." Delilah said nothing and just held the older woman close, enjoying it. She wondered why she hadn't come to visit, it seemed so silly to her now. Even avoiding meal times, and just taking her bowl down before the meru came to eat.

Rachel's hand laid to Delilah's slit, and a finger slid inside to stroke at the immature head of her penis. Delilah gasped and pulled back, startled by the touch. So sensitive, her body clenched and hips jerked. That new tension grew in her belly and the flesh started to swell and darken, "Rachel." She said quietly, and grasped the woman's wrist, drawing her hand out of her slit, "I'm not Djheni, at least not yet." Her voice was husky and her body hungered for something she had no ability to fulfill.

All Rachel said was "Oh..." very softly and withdrew her fingers and licked them clean. This lewdness from someone she had known for almost her entire life disturbed her a little, but she didn't pull away. Her hormones rushed and her body slowly relaxed again, heart slowing, swelling going down, and at last the tension was gone.

By the time her head was clear, Rachel was asleep, pressed in to her arms and clutching her like a child with a stuffed animal. Delilah debated, then eventually just laid down and held her, and drifted off to sleep, spooned close.

Some things came harder to me than others. Gender was one of the hardest, for most of my life I thought of myself as a girl child, a woman, and even a meru. But my first taste of what it meant to be a Djheni, or even a human man was in the arms of my childhood friend Rachel. I like to think that I saved her all those years ago, but in truth she saved me by teaching me who I was to become.

-3-

The Forge

A year passed, uneventful. Teachers came and left, leaving her with an expanded mind. Her home was just a small, six room wing stapled on to the side of the keep with a balcony that opened on to the courtyard. It was only the third floor so she couldn't see over the wall of the keep, but there was still much to watch. It was a great delight to watch the guards train in the courtyard, and the comings and goings through the inner gate were always interesting.

She had properly determined her age at 12 and had started keeping track of time in both human days, weeks, months and Djheni cedrae or 144 djheni days. She knew her time wouldn't be exact, as the Djheni day was a bit longer than the human day, but she was no longer human. She had yet to decide who and what she was, but she still had time, it would be another 8 years before she came of age. She still occasionally traveled to the bluff and forest, but the Achera had moved on so she went less and less.

Half way through the year Deurak began teaching her swordplay. The basics which she should have picked up by the time she could walk and a little more. He swore at her, beat her about the ribs, and after one session decided she should go back to the human realms, but still she learned and he still taught. He was also more annoyed as of late, with little to do other than laze around when he wasn't teaching her.

Mining day came, and she felt the great forge begin to heat up. Her bones seemed to vibrate in their sockets with the waves of that tide. Her sword drooped and there was a great ringing as Deurak's blade cracked her in the helm with the flat, "Pay attention." He snapped.

She shook her head and stepped back, then sheathed her blade, "I need to go." She told him, her hips swaying and body rocking slightly, "I'm sorry Deurak, but this is a calling I cannot ignore."

He hissed and threw his helmet down, "And what is this calling that distracts you so?"

"The great forge has been lit. Remember last time I blew up the tower..." She pulled her helm off and grinned at him, "Careful, I might blow you up this time."

His eye-ridges lifted and horns clicked together, "Oh is that so? If you must you must, though I don't know what you want with such low honor work."

She continued to grin and retorted, "There is honor in doing your job well, no matter your job. And I know of no one who does their job s well as the forge masters. I just count my honor in a different way than you do."

He began removing his armor and just waved a claw at her, "Go then, Disgrace yourself in the soot and heat, see if I care." And with that she removed her own armor, then dumped it in his lap and ran, laughing. It would give him something to do, she thought, he had put enough scuff marks in it, he should do the mending.

Down to the bowels of the city she hurried, practically flying down the spiral ramp. At the bottom, she rushed in to the great room, and the heat hit her, bathing her in its glory. She could feel each and every one of them pulling and drawing the copper from the planet, not enough yet to even bother doing any other jobs.

There was a cheer as a few of them caught sight of her, then the foreman came up with a grin on his face, "Come to help us again? I was sure you were put off manual labor for good after being sent to the quarry for a ten day."

She replied offhandedly, "It took almost a year to recover, but here I am!" She paused and took a more reserved stance, "I do not know what I did last time, nor do I know if I can do it again, but at the very least I intend to work through the night if you will let me." Suddenly shy of her abilities, knowing that if she had to work as they did, she would make a fool of herself, she added, "Though I am quite untrained."

"Not to worry boy, you can assist me either way, now come down in to the pit, we have a lot of work to be done and only one night to do it in." He told her in a booming voice, overly cheerful. Down they went, in to the heat and noise. The first sheet of copper was being lifted slowly from the vat of molten copper to the right side of the room. Then she was in the middle of it, basking in the heat radiating off the great jagged hunk of metal, and she swayed with everyone, in perfect timing. Her meager force was added to the foreman's, added to the man next to him, and on down the line, cresting like a wave on the ocean, than crashing on to the glowing metal with a loud boom as it struck the anvil at the foot of the room.

At first it was just that, adding her energy to the whole, then she felt herself spread, became aware of masters pouring their heat in to the crucible. Her own energy began to feed in to there as well, silent but notable. They gathered it up like a thread being added to a rope, and the end burned, heating the copper to a molten state. Then another awareness grew. The deep miners, reaching in to the core of the planet, plucking atoms from the magma and drawing them to the surface. She could feel the pressure growing, molten copper bubbling below the crust. Another awareness as she was part of the group widening the pipe to the depths, allowing that copper to flow up to the surface.

Group by group her existence spread, until she was part of everyone. The dancers wicking the heat from one place to another, pulling it from the raw copper plate to the forges, from the finished copper to the crucible. She worked with those who pulled impurities from the copper itself, and sent them back to the core. She was part of the group who held the great glowing metal aloft, or carried it around the room to the finishing area, then the stacking. Every step of the way, she gathered up their energies, wound it through herself, and fed it back to them stronger than ever.

Her body swayed, her head back, her eyes closed. Upon her lips she chanted every chant, every word from a different chant. Her arms moved, lifting to help in one place or another, where ever needed her focus. Some one missed a beat, and she took up the slack, then he came back as strong as ever and she eased in to the rest. And behind her the foreman stood, guiding her through the motions, chanting in her ears, though his chant was different than the rest, he was creating that cord that bound each of them together. Though she was the eyelet through which the thread spun, he was the weaver who guided the work.

For the first time in a year, she felt truly free and joyful. She leaned in to him and fed him her strength, holding nothing in reserve, hiding nothing. He was too busy to ever notice anything amiss, only dealing with her raw power as well as that of a hundred other Djheni.

When at last the forges cooled and the crucible was empty, she stilled, falling to her knees at the center of the great forge and closed her eyes. There was a buzzing deep inside, like the vibrations of a thousand angry bees. So much energy had passed through her, and it had left her feeling exhilarated. A hand upon her head, she looked up to see Knaira, "You have singed your hair Delilah." He had a strange expression on his face as his fingers stroked through her mane, "Foreman, how was this years pull?" he looked toward Amaunan and barked.

"Truly wonderous my Liege." He told Knaira, upon one knee. Everyone in the great forge was kneeling, "Thrice that of last year, which was twice the year before. Your ward is a boon. He makes the work as easy as lifting a babe's toy sword."

"Truly?" Knaira asked, and glanced to the mountain of copper ingots bearing the seal of Emorre. Amaunan nodded in response. Delilah tried to stand, but found her knees trembling, barely able to hold herself up. "Delilah, it seems you have a gift for forge work and I am not one to deny a man his gifts. Foreman, would you apprentice my ward at your forge?"

Amuanan's face lit at the prospect, "It would be a great honor my Liege, but I am sure the boy has a great destiny to play, it would not be my place to tamper with a noble's honor."

"None of that, I'll thank you. If Delilah has a destiny, I am sure it will attend to itself, don't you think?" Knaira snapped back, having no patience for the lore of nobility. The foreman bowed and said no more, "You must return to your work, I'm sure, I'll take Delilah home and see to it that she arrives at your forge tomorrow morning."

With his help, she stumbled from the room, he nearly had to carry her up the spiral ramp, "You are quite the handful. Whatever did I think, agreeing to your mother's proposition?" He asked and she only shrugged at him,

"I think I prefer this life to that of a meru, my Liege." She responded, leaning on his arm.

He grinned back at her, then laughed, "No doubt, and considering your strange ailment I think I prefer you as something other than meru. Though going to my death between your thighs could perhaps be one of the better ends, if one had to choose." Her only response was to blush and look away.

The next morning she found herself standing before a open building with no one to be seen. Knaira had been quite serious when he said she would be there. Deurak had woken her before dawn and told her he had been woken early and sent, and made it quite clear he was annoyed over being woken. Her muscles ached some from the constant swaying and standing of the day before, but it was a good ache, one that would turn in to a warm burn with some exercise.

She sat at the cold forge and crucible, drawing patterns in the soot with a claw tip, and waited. Some time well after sun up Amaunan showed up with five others who were carrying two each of the great copper ingots they had smelted the day prior. The forge master himself looked less cheerful today than he had before, "Sleep well, did you Delilah?" He asked with a crooked smile, then dropped one of the ingots in to the crucible, "We have twenty swords to make today, a warband is stopping here on its way east and sent a runner ahead to make the order last night. I was up haggling half the night. Be so kind as to melt that down for me?"

She felt a little out of place, his attitude so different, but she did as she was bidden and began to conjure heat in to the copper. Within minutes of her chanting the metal had turned liquid and pooled in the pot. Another ingot was added, then a third. Amaunan was no where to be seen, but one of the biggest Djheni she had ever seen helped her, feeding the ingots to the pot until they were all melted down. Others were busy laying out tools and preparing for the days work.

The big one, who's name she learned was Trum'ran, was a brute, but efficient with his work. He had little magic to his name, barely enough to pull a rod of copper from the crucible, but once he had it free, he hammered it efficiently with powerful swings. She did note that the anvil and hammer were both made of iron while they worked copper, she had in fact seen very little iron anywhere in the city.

She kept the heat up, pumping more into the rod he worked as he requested it, She did little else, but observed everything. Where and how he landed the blows, the shape the metal took, how many times he folded and refolded it, and the flecks of mineral he sprinkled over the metal before each fold until the blade turned black as soot and almost too stiff to fold without heating it to melting. At last he quenched the heat in a vat of water, a sheen of powdery green whorls and streaks forming on the blade's surface between wide lines of black.

He passed the blade off to another apprentice who polished it, then sharpened the edge, then another apprentice who hilted the tang and set it aside. Within an hour three were finished, and a fourth was being hilted, Amaunan returned, looking wide eyed and ready to do business, "Hmm not too shabby, the shape on this last one is a little off, too curved. Trum'ran, Please bring down another ingot, I'll take over."

Trum'ran threw the hammer to Master Amaunan, then ran off down the street, looking slightly upset, "Humph, that boy needs to learn to take criticism if he ever wants to get better." Amaunan muttered quietly, where only Delilah could hear, "Anyhow, I would teach you properly, but with this order I'm afraid we will be quite busy until well past noon." He continued, then added, "More heat here."

After only a few requests, she began to recognize the radiance required to work the metal, a brilliant yellow sheen of heat but not yet emitting enough red. He was no where near as fierce as Trum'ran with his blows, but far more accurate. After a while she asked, "What are you adding to the metal?"

"Sulfur, normally we use a little bit, to make the copper more durable, but this war-band ordered black blades, so we are adding much more to blacken them. Likely they are going on a night assault." He responded, hammering between each word, turning the newly forming blade back and forth. His turnout was far better, almost no whorls, just a few flecks of green after immersion, and the shape was more graceful.

Another blade was finished before Trum'ran returned. He placed the ingot in to the crucible then took his place hilting. There was more than enough work to go around, though the bone hilts were already formed and charred black, but they still had to be bound in black leather after the tang was affixed.

It was well past mid day when they finished, all 20 black swords laid out and inspected. Only one was tossed to the side and had to be reforged, one of Trum'ran's work which had a copper sheen to one side and would not do. At last they were released to eat lunch and enjoy their afternoon as one of the war-band arrived, no sense in having bored apprentices underfoot Amaunan told them, then shooed them out.

As a group they left, and wandered down the street, following their noses to one of the open grills where greasy sausages were fried up. She had no money on her person, in fact she hadn't even considered the prospect of money in years, so she only watched as the others ate, pretending disinterest. They chatted amicably as they wandered across town to the park, then lounged in the sun, finishing their meals.

One of the younger then picked a fight with another. It was rather surreal to Delilah, watching them go from discussing work to kicking, punching, and finally pinning. Once the smaller one had the larger one held tight against the ground, he forced himself between his legs, and, as she watched, raped him there on the stone path of the park.

"Go for it Jerrene, hah!" One of the others jeered and laughed.

Trum'ran snorted and bellowed scornfully, "Little rat, you're like a sand mouse riding an Achera." Then he stood and took another by the horns who's name she did not know, and forced his face down, "You will be my meru tonight pretty bird, chirp or choke." And as Delilah watched, his ribbed penis spilled out, smearing mucus across the other's face. There was no fight though, his mouth opened and took the phallus deep, swallowing and sucking firmly.

The last one, an older boy by the name of Sarm looked toward her with a little grin, and she shook her head, then darted up and ran. She could hear laughter echoing behind her, but no footsteps.

The guards eyed her as she passed in to the keep, rushing the way she was, never stopping to say hello. In her own home, she closed the door and leaned her back against it, panting heavily and trembling. Things were so strange now, nothing made sense yet everything did. The way Djheni acted amongst each other, the way they treated the meru, was this how their society really was?

Omolaud came out, wiping her hands clean on a rag, "What is it child, you look spooked." Delilah told her, explaining how they had been friendly and relaxed, then suddenly turning on one another, viciously. "And what were you doing with commoner children all day?"

"I am apprenticing with Forge master Amaunan, Knaira sent me there this morning." She replied, and fell against her, crying, "I don't want to go back."

Omolaud's strong arms held her for a moment, then gripped her by the shoulders and held her straight, "If you were anyone else, I would swat you on the tail, send you back to work, and hope one of the children taught you. But such a childish game would end in that child's death. So help me if anyone overhears me say it, Knaira was a fool to send you to apprentice with other children."

"But.. why were they..." Delilah started, then trailed off, at a loss for words.

"It's just a game, no one was hurt and none of them are old enough to breed yet. One or two of them may even choose to be a meru or be forced in to it when they come of age. It is hardly a shameful place in life, no matter what you think of your mother. Without meru there would be very few children, it is an important station." She paused, seating Delilah down next to a window, "Look at me, I am meru, albeit by capture and not by choice or by blood, but my honor is strong and I am quite happy with my life."

"But you are Djheni, I am not..." she said quietly.

"No, I am meru, I was once Djheni, long ago. And some day you too may be meru. If your curse is ever lifted..." She started to say, but was interrupted.

"Never, I will never be meru!" In her mind she saw Rachel wasting away, little Maria, sobbing in the tub, mind broken, and lastly her mother, selfish and stupid betraying them all. Her thoughts again turned to Rachel, and she looked away, distracted. "Do you suppose they would let me see Rachel again?"

"I don't see why not, I need to talk to Knaira about this anyhow, so why don't you come with and I'll convince them to let you in." Omolaud said, then continued, "But first, you need to eat, you look hungry."

"I - I didn't have money to buy lunch and Deurak woke me before breakfast." Delilah admitted.

The limited mineral rights of the Djheni planet are very strange. Each city is allowed to harvest only one type of metal and only once per year. During that time, they can take as much as they want, however they want. Though there is no ruling body governing the mineral rights, it is a tradition that everyone agrees upon and no one breaks. If any is found to harvest the bounty of the planet outside of their rights then the entire fury of the planet is turned upon them.

Emorre grew rich upon their right to copper and their highly skilled forge masters. Through the ages of wars, most of the iron, silver, gold, tungsten, and other rare and precious metals were used up and lost on other worlds leaving only copper as the primary metal left behind. Due to the nature of aluminum and the method of mining, no Djheni ever learned to smelt bauxite, however sapphire, ruby, and other forms of Corundum are valued as precious gems.

-4-

Love

Delilah sat with Rachel between her legs in the sitting room, braiding her hair while the older woman read a book. She looked better now, she had been taken out of the rotation so she could recover, though another year and she would be put back in. Rachel admitted that she felt strange not being pregnant.

Her hair was long and not well kept, they had no running water to bathe, though most of the Djheni used sand, the human meru were allowed a bucket of water each to wash with every night. Delilah had made them stone combs to take care of their hair, but still it wasn't the same as shampoo and conditioner.

She told Rachel of her learning and work, and hesitantly she told her of the game the children played, "It makes sense Delilah, They have no gender like we know it, only roles to play. You played house with the girls when you were a child, this really isn't much different when you break it down... though I have to admit its quite a bit more... brutal."

"It's worse for me though." Delilah said quietly, "If I lose the fight, they die. If I win, I cannot claim my victory. I can't play their game, I'm not Djheni enough, I'll never be a meru, and I've not been a human since I was 6." She sighed, and set her chin atop Rachel's head, then enfolded her in strong arms.

"Well, if they die, they will never have the chance to do it again." Rachel replied wistfully, "I wish I could... Nevermind, I shouldn't say that out loud." She laughed softly and pressed her back in to Delilah's chest and sighed, "I envy your freedom."

"Don't, there is a heavy price for my freedom, one I hope you would never have willingly paid." Delilah said, thinking of her mother bitterly.

"You shouldn't hate her sweetie, I long ago forgave her. If she had understood the scope of what she was doing, she never would have done it. I asked her, why she did this to us all. She started to cry. This life hasn't been easy on her either, but she chose it for herself, she never wanted anyone else involved." Rachel told her, head tilted to the side so she could see Delilah.

"She cried?" Delilah asked, memories filtering back from her early childhood, "She was always crying when I was young. Why was she so sad?"

Rachel shrugged, "She always put on a cheery face back home. She must have been terribly depressed."

With a thought to change the subject, she suggested, "I'll be 13 next week." In truth she didn't know exactly when she would be 13, but she figured a week after the copper smelting was as good a day as any, and it probably wasn't too far from the truth.

"Oh my. I keep forgetting you are still so young, to me you are about as big as any other Djheni. It's hard to think of you as anything less than an adult." Rachel told her, a blush on her cheeks.

Delilah smiled down at her, and replied at a whisper, "I feel so large next to you, like you are my little sister in my arms." then a blush crept across her cheeks too, as another thought came to mind, Rachel's body pinned under her. She didn't voice these thoughts though they had been happening more and more frequently and not always about Rachel.

"A little sister, hmm? I'm close to thirty years older than you." She replied with a soft laugh, though it seemed she liked being thought of as young.

"You may be older, but you are so delicate in my hands." Delilah told her, and to demonstrate, laid a large clawed hand across a Rachel's belly, thumb on one side, fingers on the other, "Two hands can reach around your waist."

Rachel squirmed in her grasp, hips wiggling and pressing herself back in to Delilah, "Or maybe you're just a big brute with far too large hands."

"Oh I wish, then I might not fear Trum'ran. I'm convinced he's twice as tall as me." As she said it, Rachel shivered, "So, he has a tree trunk for a penis?"

Delilah smirked, "You are becoming a true meru, all you think about is the size of a Djheni's penis, but yes, it was bigger around than my fist. I was surprised the one he took didn't choke to death on it."

Again Rachel shivered, "Ow, I don't think I ever want to meet him. And for your information, I am a very pleasurable meru. I'm sure Knaira has been pining for me ever since Omolaud convinced him to take me out of rotation."

Not wanting to think about being content as a meru, she tried to change the subject, "I'm still 12 remember, I'm not supposed to know about these things."

"Apparently you are, or so Sarm and Trum'ran thought." Rachel replied, then added hopefully, "Will you keep me company again tonight?"

"If the guards don't shoo me out, of course. But don't forget, I have no penis so don't be expecting me to treat you like the meru you think you are." Delilah told her, then pinched her stomach painfully, drawing a yelp from the smaller woman and turning a few heads across the room.

"Ow, hey, remember you can carve rocks with those hands and I'm much softer than a rock." Her words came out at a pout, but she stood and took Delilah by the hand, and lead her back down the hallway.

Alone with the heavy door closed, Rachel climbed in to her arms and kissed her upon her blunt muzzle. It was a sweet kiss, gentle and almost timid. At first Delilah resisted, feeling her ears burn with embarrassment, but eventually she returned it just as softly. She sat upon the bed, draping Rachel in her arms and opened her mouth to accept the human tongue. Again she considered how delicate she was, as if the roles were reversed and Rachel was a child in her arms.

Fingers tangled in her hair, holding her head, and that warm small mouth suckled so gently at her tongue. It sent a fire through her body reminiscent of the cursed hunger that had driven her near mad for over a year. Now though it was a low burn that grew hotter and fiercer with each suckle and pull of her hair. A moment passed until she could hold it in no longer, and moaned in to Rachel's mouth, body trembling under her.

Delilah's hips lifted, grinding her swollen sheath against Rachel's stomach, smearing wetness over her skin and filling the air with pungent musk. Slowly she laid back in to the bed, the woman on top, beginning to rub her naked body in to the hard half-dhjeni flesh. So small, so delicate, and for that moment, completely in control.

Rachel's fingers found her sheath slit and pushed inside, sticky mucus lubricating their entrance. The thin digits found the head of her unformed member and began to stroke ever so gently. Delilah moaned again into the mouth that claimed hers, unable to help herself. Her hips lifted and rocked with each gentle stroke teasing her fire in to an inferno. Of course Delilah had given herself orgasms since she was a child, awakened to the sexual forces, but this was new and different for her.

Her body twisted and Rachel followed, another finger pushing her sheath open, and exposing the inner flesh to the air. A whine started to form in the back of her throat as muscles tensed. She lifted a claw to press in to the small of Rachel's back, wanting with all her heart to push herself inside the woman and release, to be the Djheni Rachel craved. Abruptly Rachel stiffened, eyes shooting wide and mouth going slack.

Delilah thrust and Rachel cried out in surprise and pleasure. Between the woman's legs, Delilah's thick finger forced its way inside. Soaked as it was in her wetness, it slid easily, but it was so thick it hurt. Again she thrust and hilted her middle finger, "Yes, Lila." Rachel hissed and buried her face in the warm dark skin of Delilah's throat. Again her fingers stroked, remembering what she was doing, and together they shared.

There was no loneliness, there was no sorrow here. When at last Delilah came, thick infertile semen welled up from her sheath and pooled deeper with each shuddering release. Rachel on the other hand came again and again, almost every thrust drove a micro orgasm through her core.

At last when they were both spent, Rachel cleaned her belly, licking up every last spilled drop like some precious nectar. She even went so far as to bury her face in Delilah's sheath and take the tiny head between her lips and suckle the last of the milky fluid from her directly. To Delilah it was a strange yet pleasurable thing to behold, such ravenous hunger for it.

When she finally came up, gasping, face glistening and sticky, Delilah murmured teasingly, "Thirsty?"

Rachel blushed and looked away for a moment, "Yes..." She whispered, then pressed her sticky face in to Delilah's throat and kissed it softly, "The Fire of the Achera never truly leaves you once you drink it."

"What is it? Omolaud and others have mentioned it to me before but they never elaborated." Her wide fingers brushed Rachel's braid back behind her, and gripped it gently, holding her sweaty body close. The musky scent of her was enough to arouse again, but she kept her body still, waiting for an answer.

"I don't really know, they forced me to drink it the first few years, tastes vile and bitter, like yak piss. Every time some one was to come to my bed, one of the guards forced it down my throat." She pressed her face down in to Delilah's throat, hiding for a moment and trembling, though not in fear, "It makes you lose control, to stop caring, to stop worrying. Pain doesn't matter, fear doesn't exist. And it lights a fire in you that never goes out, a fire that burns hot enough to let anyone do as they please just hoping that they might quench the flame. Eventually it fades, but by that time they are long done with you. But each time even after it faded, the heat stayed just a little stronger."

She went quiet, body trembling again and Delilah stroked along her bare back then cupped her rear in one great hand, "You know what yak piss tastes like?" she asked, then giggled.

Rachel too broke in to giggles, "No! I'm just guessing, it really does taste that bad though. I eventually convinced them to stop giving it to me, I was afraid id turn in to one of the other meru who never stop masturbating or try to sleep with anything, completely humiliating themselves. I know what I want to be."

Delilah lifted the woman's head, gazing down in to her damp face, "What is that?"

"I want to be a meru proper, I talked with some of the other meru about it, those who chose this life. It's important to them, to make strong babies, to soothe and care for the men they love." as Rachel said it, she laid her fingers to Delilah's cheeks, then kissed her again, clinging to her, "Please stay tonight..." she whispered, her voice turning vulnerable and afraid.

Delilah rolled over on top, pinning the small woman below and whispered, "I am here, I wont leave you." And again they made love, this time Delilah tried to act the Djheni.

Rachel shook Delilah awake shortly after the breakfast bell was rung. Gently she helped wash Delilah of the previous night's excitement, a blush on both of their faces, not ashamed, but quite shy in the light of day. Before leaving however, Delilah swept Rachel up in to a kiss, her little bare feet kicking in mid air. When she put her down again, she whispered, "I love you Rachel... I hope I'll see you again soon."

Again Rachel blushed, pressed a quick soft kiss to Delilah's sheath, then whispered, "I hope so too Lila..." then she left, rushing out the door to breakfast, practically dancing down the hallway. Delilah went the other way and past a half awake guard, uttering a soft good morning to him.

At home she found Omolaud and Deurak looking worried and... as usual, annoyed, "Where have you been?" He snapped. She smiled to him like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, kissed him between the eyes, then made her way to the kitchen to find breakfast ready and growing cold. He followed her in as she began to eat, "Knaira was looking for you, he intended to go to the forge with you today, instead he went on his own. If you hurry you might catch up."

She stopped and looked up, her smile fading a little, "Why is he going there? I don't want to apprentice at the forge any more."

"It would dishonor him, he promised you to the forge master." Deurak told her, frowning, "You wont have to worry about the other children, Knaira will take care of it. If he had known there were other apprentices he very likely would have told the forge master no."

Her shoulders hunched some, turning back to her breakfast, but it was as sand in her mouth now. She swallowed, then started walking toward the door, "I see." She told him simply, then started to leave.

Omolaud stopped her, pushing a satchel in to her hands, "For lunch and a few coins to buy something if you want." She was quiet for a moment, then whispered so only Delilah could hear, "I take it you enjoyed your night with Rachel?" Her knowing smile sent a blush once more to Delilah's ears. That was all she needed to see, and nodded, "Have a good day." She said out loud and Delilah ran.

She arrived in time, Knaira sitting against a support, watching the busy street. He glanced up and smiled as he saw Delilah approach, "The forge master sleeps late it seems."

"Yes my Liege." She replied, returning the smile, though feeling a bit nervous.

He frowned up at her, hands laced over his sheath, body relaxed, "You don't call me father." He said, then added, "Or great grandfather as the case may be."

She scuffed her foot in to the soot and dust of the floor, "I didn't know I was supposed to. I never really thought of you as a grandfather and I never had a father."

"Come now, every one has a father, your mother has told me of him on occasion." He prompted.

She only looked away, not liking this line of thought, "Then you know more than I of him. Sure he impregnated mom, but that doesn't make him a father." Silently she added, or you a grand father.

Genuinely curious, he leaned forward, hands to his knees, "What does it take to make a father then?"

With that she was stumped so she shrugged and suggested, "How would I know? I've never had one..." Then she thought of Mr. Willard, Jacob, "No, I know what it takes. Watching your child growing up, changing their diaper, bouncing them on your knee, punishing them when they misbehave and being proud of them when they succeed. Loving them when they are difficult and appreciating them when they aren't. Humans figured it out a long time ago, that you don't even need to give birth to them or sire them to be a parent."

Knaira seemed thoughtful at her words and stayed silent for a long time, "No." He said at last, "I suppose I have not been a father to you by that consideration. But I have never been a father in that sense, though I have sired a thousand children over the years. If it means anything, I think of you as my own and you certainly make life difficult." the last he added with a grin, then stood up as the forge master and his apprentices came marching up the road. Only a single ingot of copper today, carried by Trum'ran.

"My Liege! It is an honor!" Amaunan said abruptly, falling to his knees as he saw Knaira. The apprentices followed suit, wide eyed.

"Rise forge master, this is a business call as well as social call, and there is no sense doing this kind of business upon one's knees." Knaira said with a small grin, which drew a chuckle from the boys but was quickly hushed.

Amaunan rose and stepped in to the forge, laying out his tools on a workbench, "How may I serve you my Liege?"

"I require a two-handed sword of iron core prepped for mage forging. It is to be a gift for my son coming of age next year, should his blood be suited to wield it. No hilt, just the blade." Knaira told him.

There was a hushed murmur from the boys, but at a glance from Amaunan they silenced, "I've not worked iron in 5 years my Liege, But I know where I can get an ingot. And thanks to your ward there, I have plenty of copper in trade." As he said it, the murmurs rushed in again, louder, she heard the word ward uttered at least twice so she knew they were talking about her.

"Thank you, now, the other reason I came this morning, I hadn't realized you had other under-aged apprentices when I promised my ward to you. Else I may have thought twice, you see, my boy here is cursed. He cannot be meru not even in games." His eyes settled upon the boys, a shadow over his expression, "I say this with deadly meaning, Before age 8, Delilah could drain the life from a full grown man, rendering them helpless. With the assistance of an entire circle of death chanters they locked away the curse, but a few of them died that day trying. Do not play him for a meru or you put your life to the crucible." He stared at them for a long minute, letting the fear sink in, and the dark expression in his eyes tell the story better than his words. Then abruptly he turned away and walked back toward the keep.

They were all silent, staring at Delilah for a long long time, until she started to step backward, fight turning to flight, "Cursed, eh?" Amaunan said quietly. Delilah nodded nervously, "Well I knew something strange clouded you, no normal Djheni could wield forces as you without paying the price somewhere. Come, I have much to teach, the boys can mind the shop fixing hinges and nails for the day." And so they left to Amaunan's private forge. She could hear the excited chatter of the apprentices behind her, and felt her shoulders hunch nervously.

Little did I know, my father's speech was the method to find my cure, with the word finally out new ideas sprang forth. But there was a cost of course, there is always a cost. Twice I told the story in those childish days, like some fable from a lost time, weaving a tale to scare the other children. Perhaps the cost would have been less, had I been less fanciful with my weaving, but perhaps poor Trum'ran had no choice, his nature required him to challenge fate.

-5-

Death

"Happy birthday Lila..." Rachel whispered as she laid in my arms, heated sweaty body trembling in the afterglow. Delilah was 15 now and Rachel was pregnant again, but the more her belly swelled, the more beautiful and radiant she became.

Earlier she had told Delilah, in my heart, this child is yours, and I want it as much as I want you. Though she knew, shortly after birth it would be weaned and fostered elsewhere. Rachel didn't even know who the father was, she had been given as entertainment to a hundred Djheni along with nine other meru the night Knaira's son had come of age. Terrified, she had willingly drank the Fire of the Achera before surrendering herself to the men and had come out of it with only a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises aside from the pregnancy.

Delilah's hand caressed the swollen belly, feeling the life kick under her fingers, "Some day Rachel, this will be mine, and we will raise it together." The woman's hips lifted, pressing her damp sex against the exploring fingers, and out ushered a moan, there was nothing Rachel could say to express how she felt at that moment, enveloped in Delilah's arms and touch, exactly where she wanted to be. Of course, she was another step toward lost due to her use of the drug, but she was still her, and was determined to stay herself.

For a long time they laid together, until the breakfast bell rang and Delilah had to head to work. They parted with a lingering kiss, the sweet taste of Rachel's mouth hanging upon her tongue and the whimper of need in her ear. She would be back she promised and gave her beloved a teasing caress just to stoke the fire in her swollen belly.

Under Amaunan's tutelage she had learned much. Her spells were highly accurate, her control far better than a normal chanter's though that was due to her gestures, which others thought were superfluous but the forge master understood. In truth he did not have the ability she did, but to him it was a dance, and it was from that precise dance that she learned.

Her ability with a hammer was no where near as good as her spells. She simply didn't have the muscle mass to abuse the metal in the way Amaunan or Trum'ran did, but she made up for it with force from her magic.

Half way through the day, Sarm and Vaer'noth came in, excited, "The Achera have arrived! They are marching through the south gate toward the assembly grounds as we speak." It was to be their day of maturity tomorrow, and would be the first Knaira allowed her to watch.

Her ears perked and she looked over towards the elder children, excited, "I used to have an Achera friend when I was younger, every time I went to the bluff to swim or listen to the world, he would come out and keep me company. But the pack moved on after a year, and when they came back through he went with them. I wonder if its the same pack."

Amaunan, knowing just how little work would get done to day, shooed them out, "Get lost, don't let me see you again until you are Djheni or meru."

Vaer'noth shouted, "I am Djheni!" and glared at Jerrene who snickered quietly. Some how, every time they played, Jerrene had always managed to beat the bigger and stronger Vaer. Sand mouse upon the Achera indeed.

They rushed off to the proving grounds as fast as they could run. Ahead they could see the flash of metallic scales as the lumbering beasts made their way through the gates. When they arrived at the proving ground, most of the Achera had already settled down to nap in the warm sun, though a few were still making their way in between the stands.

They slowed as they entered, the sound of the city hushing behind the great stone bleachers. There was a stillness to the place, the lazy Achera relaxing, the hot sand and sun, and the strange silence. Delilah was the first to step forward toward the pack, having played with the beasts as a child, she felt no fear of them, though was careful, a stray swipe could disembowel her between breaths.

At the front of the pack, she recognized the black with a single scale of red over his shoulder, her friend. Slowly she made her way toward him, until his head lifted then he abruptly charged, so quick that in one blink he was sitting, and the next he was atop of her. She hit the sand hard, breath rushing from her lungs, and the great beast stood atop of her, its heavy wedge shaped head pressing at her breasts and throat.

He recognized her, if not by sight, by scent, and soon his entire body had laid down atop of her, crushing the wind from her lungs. His head was pushing under hers, like a cat nuzzling for attention. She wheezed, gasped, then squeezed herself out from under him, and pressed herself against his side, "I missed you too." She murmured in his ear, then scratched behind it and under his scales.

A voice called out as an older Djheni stepped through the stands with the last handful of Achera, "He likes you! Don't suppose you come of age this year, he's second from the top and he is convinced you are his."

Delilah shook her head and smiled, "No, I've got another five years to go. This one is an old friend though."

"Ah a pity, Well perhaps it will be this pack during your coming of age, I'm sure in another year or two he will be leader. He's a true beast! Killed three on our way up from the Morekkan dunes." He stood over her, watching with a wide smile. His patterns were bright and colorful, matching one of the older beasts that sat off to the side, "My mate grows old and tired, wont be much competition for a buck like him." Then he made his way over to the leader and laid himself down.

"Pack follower." Oren said quietly, "they love their Achera more than meru, some say they are meru, but only for the true kings of our land." He was smiling affectionately down at Delilah and her Achera companion. Then a great shadow passed above as the Achera's head lifted and laid down on top of Delilah once more, and held her quite firmly pinned.

"I think I may be here for a while." She told him, blushing at his words. His eyes were gazing over the beast, almost jealously, "You want to be a pack follower don't you." she said, hushed so none of the others would hear, though they were far off, watching the pack. She remembered the day Trum'ran had claimed Oren, the gaping swallowing mouth wrapped around that Beastly Djheni penis.

"Oh yes I would, though not for a few decades, I intend to work off my debt to Amaunan." Oren said, then blushed, "Be it as meru or forge tender." He sat down, next to Delilah, and the great wide golden eyes of the Achera opened and looked upon him. She watched him shiver as the gaze pierced through him, to his heart, "Honestly if I were not indebted to Amaunan, I would choose meru anyway. Trum'ran is fun to play with, but he's simple, just not very exciting... but an Achera."

He spread his arms and legs open, and fell back in to the sand. She could see his sex tucked away between his thighs, glistening with arousal. As the wind shifted, the scent of him came to her, and she blushed again, even the Achera's nose twitched and ears perked, "I'm kind of afraid, honestly, they are so big, he almost crushed me just saying hello? So what would he do if he wanted more than hello?" She trembled a little, and peeked down over the Achera's exposed belly, and the wrinkled vent that hid its member.

"Your Achera there, yeah, you may be right, but one of the smaller beasts would be fine by me. I wonder which ones will choose Sarm and Vaer'noth." He said quietly, then asked, "Can I come closer?" She nodded in response, and he scooted himself against her, and began to pet the Achera's nose. This close she could smell his desire even stronger, the musk sharper and darker than the familiar musk of Rachel, but still enticing. At a whisper Oren said, "I'm sorry about your curse, I know you must be lonely."

Delilah shook her head and smiled wider, "I have some one to love, though I can't do more than caress without hurting them." She had never before admitted it out loud, even though Omolaud and Deurak knew, she had never said.

Oren smiled and pet her lightly on the hip, then said quietly, "Good, we all need some one. Even the next Omo re'o Dendreth."

"The next who?" She asked, quietly, propping her head up upon an arm.

He looked rather surprised at her question, "Omo re'o Dendreth, he was the greatest magi in five thousand years. He ruled with fear and immense power until only 1500 years ago when Emorre wrested The city of Dendreth from him. They say he still lives, as meru in the harem, you may have met him."

She frowned, considering the name, "Omo, I know an Omolaud, very well in fact, shes been teaching me and taking care of me since I arrived."

His eye-ridges clicked together in surprise, "Maybe he was given a new name to shrug off the past life as terror liege."

She tried to envision Omolaud terrorizing the countryside, raping, murdering, and wielding the forces of nightmares, then giggled, "It's hard to imagine, but you may be right, I'll have to ask her when I get home." Then she glanced down at the great Achera head in her lap, and added, "If he ever lets me go."

When they finally left, Trum'ran seemed angry and Oren cowered in the back of the group, too quiet. Sarm and Vaer'noth went home to prepare for tomorrow's big day, Jerrene chased after Vaer'noth taunting and teasing him viciously, "He thinks we don't know." Grumbled Trum'ran, "Everyone knows about Jerrene and Vaer'noth. Should keep it in the open like Oren and I." He dragged Oren against his stomach by the horns, and held him there, grinning down at him... then let go.

Delilah shrugged, "Whatever their business is, its none of mine."

"Is that so? And what of you little cursed meru? You think that great Achera is going to mate you and make you his pack follower? Achera can smell magic, if you were cursed he wouldn't have anything to do with you!" Trum'ran exclaimed, thinking his logic perfectly sound.

Delilah sighed and looked away, "I wish..." but she never got to finish as her scalp burned and she flew backward off her feet. Trum'ran had her hair wrapped in his fist, dangling her by it.

"This makes you look human and human are meru." He shook her by the hair, then pushed her down, smearing her face in to his sheath, "I don't think you are cursed." He said again, then pulled her head free, his musk filling her nose and mouth, the taste and smell of him, unwashed, bitter, filthy. She spit and tugged at his wrist, trying to pull herself free, "Oren, you first, I saw how you wanted this little meru today."

Oren stepped back, eyes wide and trembling. Trum'ran was faster, knocking the poor boy off his feet and putting a foot down on his crotch, toes spreading over his sheath. Involuntarily his penis emerged, the ribs flexing free and cock curving upward against his belly, "No! Trum'ran don't do this, I beg of you." He begged, trying to pull out from under the foot.

He dropped to one knee, still standing on Oren's crotch, and reached down to grip his long prick in a free hand, then dragged Delilah by the hair and pressed the cock to her lips, "Open up cursed meru, let me see what you do to our lovely little Oren here." Her mouth stayed closed as tight as she could make it. The head of Oren's cock smeared across her face, pushed against a nostril then pressed against the tight seam of her closed mouth.

He let go of the cock, and struck her across the face, making her gasp in pain, tears welling in her eyes. Then he shoved her face down, forcing his member to the back of her throat and farther, until she couldn't breathe, until the entire foot and a half of Oren's penis was hilted in her mouth and throat, her muzzle pressed in to his sheath and Trum'ran's toes. Oren screamed, trying to get away, clawing at the ground, kicking at Trum'ran, even managing to knee Delilah in the ribs. But nothing happened.

"Are you dying Oren?" Trum'ran asked, sarcastically, then slapped Delilah on the side of the face, "Give him some pleasure meru, do your duty or I'll start breaking things."

At first she hesitated, but when he reached for her hand, she began to suck. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't pull away, but her throat muscles could swallow and her mouth worked over the ridged length of Oren's penis. Its taste wasn't bad, he washed regularly at least. Her nose was filled with mucus from his slit, her senses being overwhelmed by Trum'ran and the smell, taste, and pain. So she sucked and swallowed, tears running down the bridge of her muzzle and falling in to Oren's sheath.

He looked upon her, sorrowful, but mouth hanging open in both shock and pleasure, "I'm okay Trum'ran..." he said, then moaned, cock swelling some between her lips, ridges beginning to stand up and rub against teeth and the roof of her mouth. Her tongue stroked along the underside, figuring the sooner she got him off, the sooner she could escape.

Delilah remembered what Omolaud had said, if she had been normal, she would have been sent back to be raped, to teach her. She quivered head to toe, and learned. In that moment, she learned to hate Trum'ran with all her heart. Deep inside she knew, she could kill him, right now, and he couldn't stop her. But she resisted the urge, cold blooded murder would hardly do her any favors. Her mouth continued to work as she thought, bringing moans of pleasure from Oren as Trum'ran watched and held her in place.

Only a minute later she felt Oren tense. Her body screamed for air, squirming and thrashing, but still managing to suck. And swallow. His penis swelled in her throat, and his hands tangled in her hair and gripped at her stubby horns. He pulled her nose in to his sheath, and with a sweet cry he came. She could feel his cock spasm and the thick semen filled her belly with warmth. It was strangely satisfying she thought, as she drifted in to unconsciousness, body twitching helplessly.

When Delilah woke, it was well after dark and she was laying haphazardly over a barrel at the side of the road. The filthy taste in her mouth and lips told her Trum'ran had taken his turn with her after she had passed out. Thankfully she thought, her sex was clean and dry, no one had committed suicide tonight.

She sat up and coughed, spitting gobs of half coagulated semen from her lungs and throat. Then rolled on to her hands and knees and started heaving up the contents of her stomach. She felt horrible, her mouth filthy, her body aching, and there was rage, a horrible rage that eclipsed even the most powerful hunger her body had ever felt. Strangely though, it wasn't rage at Trum'ran for the rape, it was that he had put sweet Oren's life at risk before his own, another hole, and he would have killed Oren. As the last wrenching heave subsided, she stood up and marched her way home. Through her mind thoughts of that stupid boy's death rolled back and forth.

The next day she sat at Knaira's side in the stands of the proving ground. Under a tent to her right sat the fifty children waiting to become adults. Some were nervous, some excited, one had even run and guards had dragged him back with a swollen bruise on the side of his face. She didn't see Trum'ran nor Oren anywhere, though she wasn't sure if she could bare to look at them.

As the stands filled up, the General stood and strode to the podium and looked out over the two thousand people, only a thousand fit in the stand and bleachers, the rest were packed in between, hanging off buildings, or milling in the streets.

When the General spoke, it was amplified magically to be heard half way across the city. "This day is a solemn day, for on this day children become men, meru, or meat. Some will be honored, some will be disgraced, and some may die before your very eyes. Today we give the offering of our children to the Achera, may they divide us justly and forever be our guides."

There was pounding of feet and hands, the earth shook, and the Achera rose, circling the grounds twice, and lining up by rank. Delilah noted that her black with red was just behind the elder now and the one behind was limping, some time in the night he had upped his place in the pack.

Then the General's voice boomed out again, "First we have a lowborn apprentice from the stone-worker's guild, Come forward Jem'herr, Do you request the Fire of the Achera in your veins?"

The boy's voice called out from under the tent, "No, I will meet my fate as cold as a heart stone."

One by one the General named them, asked them, then moved on. Sarm took the drug, a small stone thimble of it being handed to him, which he swallowed with a grimace, then sat down again, "There is no shame meeting your fate prepared by the Fire." The General said, then moved on. Many chose the drug and a few stayed sober.

Vaer'noth was one such denying the drought, "I have known my fate since I was a child. By fire or steel my fate is the same. I was born to be a meru." He then sat down, head held high and proud.

While they were called, a great stone table was carried by ten Djheni and laid upon the hot sand, It was worn smooth, shaped to take a body, and there were shackles to hold ankles and feet. As the last person took the Fire of the Achera the General called to attention, "Jem'herr, step forth and meet your fate."

The stone-worker boy stepped forward, his legs trembling slightly. Two Djheni helped him, then laid him to the stone table and chained him down. His legs were spread wide, with a gap for the achera to meet him, and plenty of room for the beast to stand without crushing. Then as the Djheni stepped away, the pounding began anew, people chanting different words, calling for fate to fulfill. To most, they had never met the boy, but still they beseeched the Achera to make this child a meru, or make him a Djheni, and a few called for meat, vicious and cruel that was.

The Achera stomped and swayed their heads, two stepped in to the center of the ring their bodies made, glanced at one another and bared great knife like fangs. They were not far apart in the chain, and fairly far towards the end. They were smaller, but even a small Achera was a violent terror when it wanted to be.

Delilah had never before seen an Achera fight, and as she watched, she wasn't sure she ever wished to again. They lept through the air in powerful bounds, trying to land upon one another. Claws raked, and sand was thrown up. Teeth gnashed and scraped off the plate like scales that armored their backs. One great swipe of a claw smashed into the side of the other's head, and the aschera hit the ground, rolling twice before stopping. It then lifted itself up, wobbled a little, then surrendered, rolling on to its back and exposing its' soft underside.

From that vantage Delilah could see her first Achera's penis, and the sight terrified her. It was as thick as a forearm, with a head like a fist, white and pale pink for most of the flesh, with crevices black, red, and angry looking. The shaft though was truly what scared her. Similar to the plate scales on their backs, there were spiraling rows of plates dotting the penis, which flexed and raised with each throb. They were sharp, drawn to a curved wicked point, like a fish hook but not quite as curved. She wondered then how anyone could ever survive an Achera. But looking about she realized each and every Djheni had.

The surrendered Aschera laid as still as a stone as the winner roared, rearing back on hind legs, and standing almost twelve feet tall. His erection slapped against his belly, barbs scraping loudly against belly scales. It made her sex clench in agony just at the thought of that thing gutting her. Then the beast rushed to the stone slab, and leaped upon the chained boy. He screamed, and as she watched piss dribbled down his flank.

"Ahh poor boy, that one is a showoff." Knaira said to a lord sitting to his other side.

As Delilah watched, the claws of the Achera dug in to the stone next to Jem'herr's head, then thrust the head of his cock against the boy's belly, stretching his sheath open until blood leaked over his stomach. He screamed again in pain and the crowd began chanting meat over and over. The Achera pulled back and thrust again, this time his cock bobbing lower and landing at the entrance to the Djheni's vagina, and stretched it open wide.

There was one more scream which dissolved in to a moaning and whimpering mess. The beast did not thrust, simply buried his penis as far in to boy as it would go, then laid down, body twitching every so often. The chant of meat had faded and now the chant was meru. And as they watched, the boy began to grind his hips up against the Djheni's crotch, She could see that sex, stretched so wide, and as it slid down and up, blood began to leak from it, soaking the stone below him.

Delilah turned to Knaira and asked quietly, "Why is he doing that? He's hurting himself."

Knaira smiled and patted her on the knee, "She can't help it, the Achera made her meru. She was never fit to be Djheni."

Delilah frowned, but asked nothing more, only watched. After a minute or two, the Achera pulled free, penis flaccid and drenched in creamy pink, white from the semen, and pink from the blood. The barbs had retracted and laid flat before he had withdrawn. The General stepped up along with the two Djheni who unshackled Jem'herr, "Jem'herr is meru! All who lay claim to this meru please step forward."

Three Djheni stepped out of the crowd, all of them lowborn. One of them said loudly to the General, "She was my apprentice for 6 years, I cared for her, trained her, and spent much time effort and finances toward his wellbeing."

The next spoke up, "She is my ward, she lived in my home for eleven years, I fed her, trained her, and taught her to be a Djheni."

Then the third spoke, voice trembling slightly, "She was my lover for two years." But had nothing more to add.

The General glanced between the three of them, then turned to the stone-worker, "How much is she worth to you?" he named a price in copper, then the foster father named another price, slightly lower.

The General didn't even address the lover, but he stepped closer and held up a reinforced satchel, "I offer a quarter ingot of iron to each of you." He said, then dropped the satchel on the ground. The foster father and stone-worker rushed to the satchel and pulled it open, forgetting about Jem'herr.

There was a commotion in the crowd, but the General silenced them with a wave of his hand, "Jem'herr's price has been met, she is yours Djheni, take care of her." And with that, the lover scooped Jem'herr in to his arms, and carried her from the proving ground.

The next few were uneventful, each new Djheni asking a boon of their teacher, foster family, or the poorest of them asking a boon of Knaira himself. Each boon was granted, though no one asked for anything too great. The greatest though, one asked his Foster Father for the meru who birthed him. This drew a fair share of grumbles and hushed disapproval, but that too was granted. Then before the eyes of the crowd he took his mother and mated with her on the hot sands of the proving ground.

Sarm came next the beast who mated him was the pack leader, old and powerful. But within seconds everyone knew, as Sarm began to tear herself apart on the great and terribly barbed penis. He finished and pulled out before too much damage could be done, but the healers were needed to stop the bleeding. Once that was taken care of, the only one who came for her was Amaunan. He lead the trembling meru from the field and began a private auction off to one side, offering to sell her to one of the taverns.

When it at last was Vaer'noth's turn, he strode to the stone and laid himself down, a wide smile upon his lips, and eyes turned toward the crowd, seeking out a single face who smiled back. When the Djheni came up to chain him, he refused, they relented but warned him if he harmed the Achera or ran that there would be a high price to pay. The Achera that chose him was of the mid rankings and was strangely gentle with the beast of a man. He embraced the Achera and held it close as the milky seed poured in to his belly.

When at last the Achera withdrew, there was no blood, and Vaer'noth rose to his feet, semen drooling down both thighs, then he walked toward the crowd and took Jerrene's hand in his, "As my boon I ask of you, when and if you become a Djheni, allow me to be your meru, and until that day I shall serve Master Amaunan as forge keeper." There were aws and sighs in the crowd, such romance was rare and it softened the heart. At last Vaer'noth was lead away to be tattooed in the likeness of his Achera mate.

The next few were uneventful until the very last person was lead, swaying and trembling to the stone. The influence of the Fire was strong on him, and he could barely keep his legs under him. The crowd began to chant meat even before the shackles had bound him in place. The chanting grew louder as three Achera fought for the right to breed with this boy, one of the three was Delilah's black with red. When at last only he stood upon the field, one dead and the other limping away, he stalked his way slowly toward the trembling body.

He bellowed and reared, cock emerging, thicker than any of the others. He landed with forefeet atop the stone, and aimed his penis up over the chained boy's body, then began to piss. The filthy yellow musk washed across face, chest, stomach and sex, drenching him completely. The boy went wild, squirming and humping at the air, unable to withstand the potency of the musk. He screamed and sobbed, clawing at the stone under his fists, kicking at the achera and the ground. Then the achera thrust, spearing his cunt in with just that, bottoming out which caused the boy to wheeze sharply.

Then he withdrew, barbs tearing at the flesh of his sex, ripping great rents inside and splashing blood over his own scales and the sand below. Then thrust again, bottoming out once more, and this time sinking farther, something having given way inside to make room for the Achera's great penis. Knaira leaned in and whispered, "Now there is a mean beast, he knows he is dealing with meat, so hes drawing it out, playing with his prey."

Delilah looked to her foster father quizzically, "I know that Achera, I used to play with him out at the bluff when I was younger... He." She stopped, trembling inside and remembering how Oren had craved surrendering to him.

"He is meat, the Achera knows this, with another he would be as gentle as the one with Vaer'noth." Knaira replied and she realized he was stroking himself, the first three inches of his penis poking free under his fingers as his eyes gazed raptly upon the gaping bloody sex being torn further.

At last her Achera sheathed and stayed burried, though the poor boy began to twitch and tremble fiercely. After a few minutes, it was a full on seizure, and still the He did not pull out. Then at last, the boy went still and the Achera ripped free, not even laying back his barbs, just tore strips of flesh from the cunt to splatter upon the warm stone. Then the two Djheni came forth and plucked the meat from his chains. His eyes glazed, unfocused, his chest rising and falling ever so slowly. He was still alive, but he was blank.

"What happened to him?" Delilah asked.

Knaira leaned in again and replied, "The fire of the achera, it burned through him so fiercely there was nothing left. He will stay alive as long as his body is maintained, but he will never feed himself, never wash himself, never speak. He is meat now and he will be tossed to the crowd to play with until he dies." He shrugged dismissing the boy, "His blood was not strong enough, even most humans can survive the Achera's seed though all who do become meru, none are fit to be Djheni, but he wasn't even human, he was born meat, he dies meat, the life in between was simply an honorless waste."

The catatonic child was carried to the stands, and offered to Knaira first, then the lords. Knaira shoved his penis inside, a single thrust as they held him up, hips first. The boy's belly bulged, then as Knaira pulled free a moment later, urine sprayed after and laughter sprouted up from the crowd who could see. Then the General shouted, "Meat!" and the boy was tossed to the sand. What happened next was even more disgusting, people defiling, humiliating, harming, and fucking the helpless body. Delilah had to look away.

Knaira leaned in and told her, "This year was a good year, last there were fifteen who were thrown to the crowds and four who died on the stone."

Hours later Delilah sat upon the sand at the edge of the dry oasis bed. Cracked mud and streaked sand was all that awaited her. It was the wrong time of year to swim. Again she wondered where had the water gone, at one time this entire desert had been an ocean, but now..." Her thoughts trailed off, and she laid back on the warm sunbaked sand, gazing up at the stars as they started to peek out.

She wanted to be alone after witnessing the coming of age. This year had been a good year he told her, but to her it was terrifying. In five years it would be her down there, throwing herself to fate, and deep inside she knew she would become meat. She wasn't Djheni, she wasn't meru, she wasn't even human. Her mind would be wiped clean, and she would die raped, broken, and covered in filth, not even the Achera would eat her disgraced body.

A soft fwhip sound, then a sharp curse caught her attention. Some one had stepped too close to a blood tree. Their hollow needles and muscular reflexes allowed them to attack and suck the blood of any creature who got too close. She knew her way through the forest by heart, though even she had a few puncture scars where the trees had bitten her. There was a crashing, and more swearing, then at last a heat form began to emerge from the forest. She recognized his silhouette almost immediately, some how the curses not giving him away.

"Trum'ran..." She said softly.

"Yes." He reliped, stepping free of the treeline and standing before her, a brighter heat dripping down his shoulder from where the tree bit him.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, though she knew the answer, part of her was excited, elated even, but another part was terrified, remembering the events of the day, and knowing he would hurt her before he died.

"Amaunan told me he saw you walking through the gate and I remembered you talking about this place. Is this your mud hole you like to wallow in like an animal?" He asked, mockingly, then walked closer. She could see his penis hanging free already, brighter against his cooler skin.

"So, come to make me your meru as well now that you know I have no curse?" She asked, belly clenching and body trembling slightly, though she didn't move an inch.

"Yes." He said again, simply, then lowered to his knees and reached for her. She flinched away, disgusted by his touch. The feel of his hands upon her naked flesh made her skin crawl. Rough calloused fingers, with chipped jagged nails. They caught in her hair as he ran his fingers through it. Her teeth clenched and a soft whimper escaped her lips.

He dragged her head up, and kissed her, forcing his wide slimy tongue between her lips, but couldn't push beyond her teeth. Instead he just licked around her mouth, drooling in to her as he laid his body atop. Then he pulled back, gazing down in to her face. She could make out the brighter sheen of his eyes against the darker skin, the brightness of his nostrils and mouth, the heat of his flushed ears, "Did you see today? What your favorite Achera did to that meat? It might have been you, pissed on, torn apart, then thrown to the wild crowd... I got a turn with the meat you know." He kissed her again, and pressed his erection against her penile slit, forcing it inside as far as it would go.

She turned her head away as best she could, rejecting his kiss, "Yes, I saw." She replied, through clenched teeth, and flinched again, trying to move her belly away from his probing member.

Abruptly his fingers probed at her sheath. A nail cut the head of her penis as he searched around, then laughed loud enough to hurt her ears, "You will never be Djheni.. you don't even have a penis... a dickless magi." He spat in her face, sticky foul smelling mucus running down her muzzle and over her right eye.

She began to cry then, chest heaving as she sobbed. Then with his penis buried in her sheath, he began to piss, washing her clean slit in his filth, making her skin itch and burn, and the cut sear like fire. She sobbed out loudly, arching her back, and pushing up against him, trying to throw him off. He outweighed her five to one though, and just slammed her back. But with her mouth open to the cry, he kissed again and locked his teeth with hers, holding her mouth wide. He licked in, and curled his tongue with hers, drooling all the while.

His urine welled up from her sheath and spilled between her small breasts, pooled over her sternum, then ran a rivulet between her collar bones and along her throat. The pungent smell of it made her gag. Then he pulled free, still spitting his musk. He aimed down and pissed on to her sex, marking her like a dog might mark a tree. She was humiliated, her heart sank, and tears leaked free. Disgust mixed with the devastating debasement and her thighs fell open. She gave up, and gave in to him, lifting her sex to meet his penis, the last trickle of urine flowing between her lips.

Through her locked open jaw, she uttered, "Claim me." Her rage was the only thing that burned brighter than her humiliation, and she sobbed again.

He broke away from her mouth, and laughed once more, "Oh? That easily? No, I don't think you've learned your place yet. You don't get to be Meru, no, you are meat just like that boy today." He sat up, kneeling over her body, with his cock out stretched, "But you still have your mind intact, at least until the Achera are done with you, but I know it, and the Achera know it, you are meat." He then struck her, hard enough to throw her head back split her lip. "That's better, meat should be bloody and rare. Now clean me. I fucked that meat's ruined cunt, and his ass, at least thirty had him before I got him."

She hesitated, mortified, then he hit her again, harder this time, and grabbed her roughly by the hair. Her face was smashed in to his sheath, and she could smell that he was telling the truth. She gagged and started to heave, at which he whispered, "Any thing you spill, you will be eating from the sand." And she choked her bile down again. Some how she knew it was inevitable, and he would just hurt her worse the more she resisted. But silently she damned him for not just taking her, one thrust and she would have him, one thrust and his life would be over, but no... She sobbed again, then opened her mouth and began to lick the filth from his sheath, "As I said, anything you spill... so swallow it, all of it meat."

Minute by minute, her tongue wormed its way around his sheath, licking clotted blood, stale semen, piss, and what she was convinced must be bits of feces. Each swallow turned her stomach, and each was harder than the last. Her fingers reached in to him, spreading his sheath open, and out came a flood of mucus and filth, trapped behind his swollen slit. And through her utter mortification, she drank it. His eyes were upon her, and she could feel his penis growing more and more erect with every passing swallow. Some how the power he held over her sent his blood burning.

When he finally thrust his cock head in to her mouth, it was a welcome relief. The flesh was pliable and soft, wider than it was tall. The glans hardened in to a ridge of cartilage that jutted up from the muscle of the shaft, with semen and filth trapped behind it. Then another half inch down was a second ridge, and so forth all the way to the sheath. Her face drenched in his musk, filth, and her tears, she closed her eyes and began to suckle. Gently, quietly, trying to suppress her sobs. But the worst part of it was the fact that she was growing more and more aroused, a part of her mind drifting in and out of focus. She moaned suddenly, and pressed her face deeper on his long thick member. It was almost too wide for her mouth, and far too wide for her throat, but she let the soft head nestle between her tonsils and suckled harder.

"Ohh, I forgot.... so much achera piss and cum soaking my dick, it must be taking its toll on you huh? Would you like some more? I brought a vial full of Achera's Fire." He told her, laughing as she gagged and tried to swallow his member. Her mind was foggy and her womb was burning, every inch of her was craving his touch. The disgust was still there, and she felt her stomach turn as she gagged on his dick. All it took was a single thrust by him, ramming his head forcibly down her throat, the pain of it unbearable. She pulled free and threw up in to his lap, throat spasming in pain and nausea. She threw her head to the side and heaved again, then coughed . All the while her hips lifted and pressed against him, grinding her sex in to his inner thigh.

He punched her in the stomach, hard enough to make her heave again, then once more in the side. Then again, and again, the blows rained down on her, arms lifting to protect herself but she couldn't stop him, couldn't even see through her tears. When at last the pain ebbed , he grabbed her by the hair and pressed her face in to the mess she had made, "Start eating, I did warn you." He said. When she didn't he began to hit her again, "Eat." He would say, then hit, and repeat until at last her mouth opened, and she filled it with damp sand vomit and filth. She swallowed, coughing with each try, until at last it was down... sand littering every inch of her esophagus. Then he repeated, telling her to eat and hitting her.

Hoarse and her mind on the verge of breaking, she begged, "Please... stop." She didn't even have anything to bargain with, she was doing everything he told her, and still he beat her, she was degraded, humiliated, defiled, and her throat torn up from swallowing sand.

Once more he hit her, and she heard a rib crack under his knuckles, "Meat doesn't speak." He told her, but was growing bored with this game. He changed tactics and grabbed her by the knees, yanking her thighs open and exposing her drooling cunt. She lifted her hips to him, silently begging for him to take her. By now she had even forgotten that it would kill him, the hunger in her womb was simply too much to bear.

His penis kissed her labia, then started to press inside, "Oh my this meat is fresh, have you ever been fucked meat?" He asked, grinning down at her, "No, I suppose not, the curse and all." He laughed, "Maybe daddy kept you all to himself, raising a Djheni who in private was his own personal meru, Was that it? He must have a tiny dick then, I'm about to split you in two." He laughed again, then leaned over her, claw to her chest, pinning her in place.

With his weight upon, his penis slid inside, head popping in with a painful stretch, then his shaft, even wider, pushed in. She tore as the first ridge entered her, from the upper cleft of her cunt toward her urethra, skin split and blood leaked, lubricating his next thrust. She screamed as he forced himself inside of her, "No!" she cried, completely forgetting that she wanted him to, her mind almost purely animal now, just wanting to escape the horrible pain he was inflicting in to her.

"Mmm, meat, your remind me of stories my father told me, of how little human girls tore and screamed. They don't stretch like a meru, they just rip apart and die if you aren't careful. I wonder if Knaira will be too upset with me if I kill his little pet meru, he can always get another I suppose." His words terrified her to the core, and she squirmed bestially, clawing kicking and jerking. He thrust again, the next ridge penetrating her, and the tear opening deeper, like a zipper being undone along the upper wall of her vagina.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned his entire weight upon her, and bottomed out. She split in more places, deep inside, and at her entrance, but the dormant thing inside of her had awoke, "Meat, scream for me, louder." His penis swelled and throbbed, the excitement rising within him. He looked upon his prey as little more than a beast, she was favored of Knaira, but she wasn't a person in his eyes, but she squirmed and cried and begged just like a person, which made it so much more delicious. Oren had never been so much fun, too receptive, too giving. His penis twitched again as her fist beat against his chest, it hurt, but the hurt made it all the better, she struggled like prey and it drove his instincts wild.

Then something changed, there was an itching in his cock, starting about at her cervix. It spread, then faded, and for a moment he forgot about it. Then his belly clenched, and a hunger grew, almost familiar. The Fire of the Achera was similar but a pale imitation to this new hunger. He began to thrust, fierce and hard, slamming his hips down against her, bottoming out with each thrust and making her heave with nausea. Absently he wondered if he could make her puke up the sand if he thrust hard enough. Then that thought was lost in the desire that tore through him. He howled and came, the rush of semen so powerful it caused her belly to swell before it gushed out on to the sand. But it wasn't enough, it wasn't near enough.

His thrusts continued, harder and faster until he felt something give way and his cock sank another six inches, hilting within her body. He spasmed again and another orgasm rocked through him. Then within seconds after which the first ended, another began, and another. He couldn't stop, he couldn't pull away, and soon his semen was drained away but still the muscles clenched and tore at themselves. He felt his own stomach bunch and tear as the muscles clenched far too hard and ripped free.

Her eyes, full of lust, hatred, and glee, stared up at him, and he screamed like a child. He clawed at her chest, tearing a deep rent in it, then fell forward, in to the filthy sand which she had been eating. His orgasm of agony continued, blood spraying from his urethra now, shaft so swollen it looked ready to burst, deep in her body. Then he felt something moving inside of him, something that wasn't him. He tried to pull away, as hard as he could, but only fell backward, dragging her with. They were fused together by the hips.

Delilah gazed down upon her prey, her mind coming back to itself as the pain ebbed away. She could feel the torrent of energy pouring in to her, like a floodgate opened upon her womb. She sat above him, back arched, and looked towards the sky. Still the Fire of the Achera burned through her veins, but was a shadow before the fire of her true hunger. Lain dormant for so long, she had almost forgotten how it felt to feed. She felt his penis burst, like a grape popping, blood rushed in to her womb and her stomach swelled. Not a single drop escaped from her sex though.

He screamed again, and as she looked down, to stare once more into his face, he knew terror far worse than she ever had, "Thank you for your life Trum'ran." She whispered, "You see, all along you were the meat, and soon you will die to feed me and my deep hunger." her hips rocked, grinding in to his pelvis... but she felt something thick and hard inside of her, not the soft ribbed surface of his penis... there was nothing left of that.

A moment later her sheath bulged then parted, and a small but beautiful penis began to slide forth. It swelled and grew as she watched, and she realized, it looked almost exactly like his, but thinner and shorter. She laughed a deep laugh and told him, "Dickless? Yes, and now I have yours. Do you recognize it meat?" she took a hold of it in one hand, squeezed, and moaned in absolute ecstasy. Then with a wide grin she returned his favor and began to piss over his chest and face. For the first time, she pissed like a man, holding her penis in her hand. Of course she aimed for his open screaming mouth, turning those screams to gargles.

Blood drained from his body and her belly swelled further, making her look almost pregnant. She stretched and bones popped, both painfully and very very satisfying. At last she came, spraying her milky-clear infertile seed into her hands, then let it drip on to his face, pooling in his eyes. Then within moments, he went still, drowning in her urine, mouth gaping for air, but not a single gasp reaching his lungs. She laid her head to his damp chest, hips still rocking and belly still swelling. She wondered what would be left of him when her hunger was complete, no one had ever allowed it to finish, always ripping some one free long before it had truly started.

Delilah's eyes drifted shut the smile that graced her lips that of an angel. Within minutes sleep claimed her, curled up on the slowly cooling corpse of her prey.

That one day everything changed. Down became up, wrong became right, I finally fit. I still remember him fondly, my first prey, and say thanks to him once a year over a drink.

-6-

Freedom

Delilah's first memories of her new life, were that of laying in the sunshine, high up in a tree, cradled in love and affection. Those branches held her perfectly, and would have never allowed her to fall. When she finally sat up her stomach shifted sharply, churned by the massive hardness that filled her depths. It touched every inch of her and she moaned.

That first cry of a new life, her voice lifted to the heavens and spilled forth music so beautiful it made the heaven's weep, or at least that is how she recalled it. She was drenched head to toe, her body quivering with deep seated hunger, a normal hunger. She clenched and tried to climb off the intrusion in her belly, but her legs were too weak, she lifted perhaps an inch, then slid down the smooth slick surface that filled her.

An hour later, still raining, she tried again, this time she had enough strength to pull herself free, and fall in to the cradle of branches. The bark was clean smooth and creamy, downy soft and papery. She remembered the feel of it from her childhood, birch-wood. For a moment she figured she must be home, on earth. There wasn't a single normal tree on this planet, but then a glance out over the field of sand, she knew that wasn't right. At last she slid herself down the trunk, not a single mark marring its perfect beautiful surface.

Delilah pulled away to stand in the damp sand, but immediately felt a terrible loss that was only satisfied when she leaned once more to the tree. There was an emptiness inside where she had once been full. It took her only a moment to realize, this tree had been part of her, still was part of her. Some how she felt a kinship to it as a mother to a child, and she clung to its' trunk, sobbing in to the rain. She missed the feel of it within her already.

As she leaned there, clinging to her tree, she saw in the ground, half buried in sand was the skull of Trum'ran. He had surrendered his life to bring this tree in to the world. He was the milk from her nipple to a babe, the prey caught and fed, half chewed to her offspring. He was dead, and she was free. Once more she pulled away from the tree. The disconnect was wrenching, and as she trembled, so did the tree, the branches seeming to reach for her.

"No." Delilah said aloud, and the tree stilled. It was alive, it was aware, and it loved her. That much she felt without even touching it. Slowly she bent down, legs trembling weakly, and plucked the skull from the sand. It was caught at first, roots that had pulverized the rest of the bones had already started in on the jaw and bottom of the skull, but eventually they released her prize.

With one last longing look to her other half, she turned to the keep and began to stumble her way home, feeling the longing of her tree behind her every step of the way. Part of her stayed behind, and part of it was within her, forever mixed in what she couldn't yet imagine.

Half way home, the pain hit. Though the cuts and tears had healed over while she slept to her surprise, her body had taken a horrible beating. She tumbled to the wet sand, the skull rolling ahead of her, looking back. It seemed so small now, a fragile thing she could crush with one hand. It amazed her how she could have ever feared him, even though the pain had been terrible, even the concept of fear was gone. He had done almost everything he could to her and she had come through it alive and for the most part, whole.

An hour later Delilah stumbled through the gates to the keep, drawing strange stares from the guards. She realized at that moment she was looking down on the smaller of them and eye to eye with the larger. She swayed her head letting her tangled hair spill over her shoulder, and they relaxed but their curious expressions continued.

Within her home she found Omolaud sitting with her back to a wall, looking pale and drawn. The matron's eyes lifted and widened as Delilah entered but she didn't stand, "Delilah, where have you been?" She asked, her voice shallow.

Delilah was even taller than Omolaud now. She fell on to a mat and laid there, letting the pains in her body ease slowly out, "I was at the bluff. Trum'ran followed me." She set the skull down, facing Omolaud, "He's dead."

"We looked there, we found no sign of you." She paused and stared down at the empty eye sockets, "You were gone nine days."

Delilah shifted, pushing herself back to the wall and sitting up. She groaned in pain, her ribs hurting the most of anything, "Nine days..." She echoed, "I think the curse is gone, Trum'ran took it with him when he died."

The matron's head lifted, eyes finding Delilah's. She began to chant, eyes drifting out of focus and staring through. Up and down she gazed, brows pressing together, clicking her ridged horns against one another. Finally she went silent and nodded, "I see no sign of it, but it may not truly be gone. And it may have left you changed."

Delilah denied this furiously, "It's gone, I would feel it if it weren't, I know it's gone."

"But you have to admit." Omolaud said quietly, "You are changed."

Delilah looked down at herself, and she had, she knew. The fine bone features of the human girl were completely lost now, her muscles were tight under the skin, her bones broad and heavy, her skin thick and dark gold, even darker than her hair. She nodded and a small smile touched the corner of her blunt muzzle, "That I am." She said quietly and clenched, her penis spilled out, damp and heavy, laying limply against her lap.

"Then I suppose I can't call you girl anymore." Omolaud observed, "That is a fine and proud penis, but you should never hold it like that. Always keep it raised or hidden."

"It was Trum'ran's." Delilah said with a soft laugh, "He called me dickless, and now I have his."

A frown grew across the matron's features, "You mean you grew it from his... energy."

She shook her head and lifted it, exposing the underside, a single mole near the base, "It's the same shape, though not as large, even the mole is in the right place."

The frown spread, darkening her expression, "That is dangerous and strange magic, it is good that it's gone. One should never feast upon the soul of an enemy, or they might become the enemy."

Delilah's head lifted, head laying back against the wall, "Did that happen to you? You were once a great magi, right, Omo re'o Dendreth?"

She nodded in response, "Yes, that was once I, A name best forgotten and lost. However, I never feasted upon souls, though I had a brother who did. Soon his own soul was drowned in the desires, hatreds, and thoughts of all those he had killed. He became them, all at once, and they turned on him and tore him limb from limb. I found him later, bits of himself flung across the room, only one arm left, his own blood under his claws."

Delilah shivered and imagined Trum'ran waking up within her, deciding to take a lasting revenge. She looked away, "Please make me breakfast, it has been almost a ten day since I ate." Omolaud nodded and rose, joints cracking and popping as she did.

The next day she woke and placed the skull upon a shelf over looking her bed. Some how its macabre gaze brought her a sense of solace. When Deurak saw it that evening, he gave her a curious look, then asked quietly, "A battle trophy?"

"Yes." Delilah nodded.

"Omolaud tells me you are free of your curse." He prompted.

Again she nodded, "Yes." Her eyes darted downward and she saw the tip of his penis peeking from his sheath.

He followed her gaze, then glanced up again, a sardonic grin on his lips, "Well... I hope you aren't going to unman me, I remember what you said."

Delilah's ears colored and she turned away, "No, but even now that I can, I still wont be your meru Deurak."

"I assumed as much, but you can't blame me. You are the most desirable Djheni in Emorre." He told her, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"And you." She said, keeping her back to him, "Are a flatterer chasing after children. For all you know, I may be meat when the Achera are done with me." A shiver ran down her spine and a hollowness screamed within and memories filtered back up from the other night.

"You don't have to meet the Achera, you could be human, and meru." He told her, and stepped closer. She could smell him, feel the heat of him against her back, and hear his heart thudding in her ears.

"Or you could be mine." She told him, a small smile curling at her lips, her head tilting to glance back at him over her shoulders. He was still taller than her, and far more skilled with a blade, but she had magic that dwarfed him like the sun to a flame, "I could keep you silly and pleasured, drenched in the Fire of the Achera, begging for me every morning and night."

He stepped back and swallowed, the look on his face told her everything, "You wouldn't." He whispered.

"You would never need your penis then." She teased him, then looked away once more, back to the skull of Trum'ran. She heard him swallow again. "I will face the Achera Deurak, and I will be meat or I will be Djheni. Or maybe I will be Achera?" She added, then laughed, "I cannot know what I am, but I know what I am not. Before he died, he taught me that I am no meru."

She turned again and faced him, smiling, "I have a debt to repay. If you will excuse me."

Oren looked lost when she found him, he was sitting in the park, staring up at the setting sun as it dipped below the city wall. Delilah sat at his side, her eyes set to the sliver of sun still visible. Oren looked to her and seemed to sink inside, "You're here, he is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, but it wasn't in vain. I learned much from him before the end, and gained even more." She smiled and laid her head back, staring up in to the darkening twilight sky. For a moment she remembered earth, and the moon, "I miss the moon from my home world. The sky feels so empty without its' pale silvery face."

"Your home world?" He started to ask, then not to be lead astray by her subject change, he asked quietly, "The curse was real, wasn't it?"

She only smiled, and looked to him, but never answered, "I owe you something Oren." Her wide heavy claw reached out and brushed the smooth manicured talons along his cheek. He visibly shivered and shrank back away from her touch. She followed, turning fully toward him and curling her fingers behind his neck, "I won't hurt you. I may have killed him but I did not become him."

He eased a little and leaned closer, into her touch. She took his cheeks in her palms, and drew him in. Her gaze found his golden eyes as they reflected the last of the sunlight. He seemed so afraid and tiny in that moment, as if a frail bird fluttering and terrified, caught between her fingers. Trum'ran, she thought, would have delighted in plucking his feathers one by one.

As night descended Oren laid his head to her chest and closed his eyes. She held him and wondered how this beautiful child could have ever loved Trum'ran. The tears running down his face and the soft sobs told her the truth of it however. Slowly his tears dried and his sobs stilled, and finally fell asleep that way, curled up half in her lap.

When Oren stirred again, he found himself in a strange room with the morning sun coming in through a window. His eyes focused slowly and above his head he spotted a skull watching over the bed. A curtain was thrown back and Delilah entered. He had changed Oren observed, as handsome as ever and that same aloof expression that had so annoyed Trum'ran, but where once he had been small and wiry, he was now thick and powerful. His movements were still graceful, as if he weighed half what he appeared to.

"Do..." Oren started but the words caught in his throat.

Delilah knelt at the edge of the bedding, and offered him a bun stuffed with meat, "The bakers are singing praise for the rain, there is bread on every table this morning." He told Oren with a grin.

Oren sat up and contemplated the sparse quarters, then in place of words he filled his mouth with food. It had been over a year since he last tasted bread, the rains had been too few as of late and there was only meat for every meal. With half the bun gone, he tried again to ask, "Am I yours now, Delilah?"

His large hand cupped Oren's cheek, gentle and warm. The expression on his face was one of compassion, "If we were adults I suppose that would be tradition, but neither of us have faced the Achera. Until then, you can stay with me if you need, but I will not lay claim to you until I know I am Djheni and you are not meat."

Delilah's words paled Oren's features, he looked stricken, remembering Trum'ran playing with the meat a tenday earlier. He gave a weak smile, brushing the strands of memory back to the depths of his mind, and rose to his knees, "How may this meru serve you then Delilah?" she asked. She looked down to her hands, laced over her lap, then up again. This home was better than the streets or Amaunan's porch and she certainly didn't dislike Delilah. Part of her was deathly afraid of the exotic man before him. Those blue eyes so unlike any Djheni eyes she had ever seen, the human hair that draped over his shoulders.

Delilah's hand curled around the back of Oren's neck, and drew her forward, her face to his stomach, half a foot above his sheath. He held her there as Oren gazed up, meeting those strange eyes. At lat Delilah said, with a smirk, "I believe I once gave you pleasure not too long ago. I'm sure you would be willing to repay the favor?"

Oren blushed, remembering his mouth upon her. She had never been one to seek satisfaction; receiving so much more through giving. But she wouldn't lie to herself, she had enjoyed it once the fear had faded. Her head lowered and her muzzle pressed to the warm soft sheath. The skin was smooth, dry, and freshly washed. She nuzzled at it slowly and inhaled, the sweet clean musk filling her senses and exciting her core. This was why I am meru, she thought.

Her fingers parted the slit, exposing the sticky musky mucus that protected his penis and lapped her tongue from bottom to top. She sighed at the taste and pressed her face deeper as she heard Delilah whimper. She realized then how sensitive he was, just the gentlest touch of her tongue could drive him on. At last his penis slithered its way free, sticky and glistening before her. She gave it only a moment's contemplation before filling her mouth with the sweet, beautiful flesh.

Delilah watched with awe and bliss. The sensations were new and wonderful as Oren worshiped his sheath then finally his member. So sensitive was his organ, that within only seconds it was erect and sliding down the meru's throat. She swallowed him without gag or reluctance. Upon her face was a look of contentment and joy that called to Delilah's heart.

With trembling knees and hips he lowered himself to the bed. Oren followed and laid herself along his lap with her muzzle buried in his sheath. He could feel her throat muscles working, swallowing him over and over, tugging him ever deeper.

Delilah's muscles clenched and stretched in time with those swallows. With each lick along the bottom of his sheath, his hips would jump and a gasp tore itself from his throat. As if the roles were reversed, Delilah was at her mercy. Each kiss, each suckle, each brush of her fingers played his body to a new and beautiful melody. When at last he peaked, his face turned to the sun and cried out. He felt new sensations, new pleasures; the feel of himself draining down Oren's throat, halting and gushing in time with those swallows.

Oren withdrew, tongue curling behind every ridge to clean every drop from her Djheni's spire. At last she pulled off, and laid her cheek to Delilah's thigh, gazing up over his golden body. His penis withdrew, hanging limp and spent before at last tucking itself within.

Delilah's hand again found Oren's face, thumb brushing along a smooth cheek under her eye, "Thank you meru." He said quietly, and together they basked in the morning sun, content. Eventually his mind turned to Rachel, at last given what he needed. Some how he decided, she would be his and his alone.

For the first time since leaving the earth I felt whole. Though the future had much in store for me, in those young years I was convinced nothing could ever go wrong again; and in truth for a long while nothing did. I was surrounded by those who loved me, friends to keep me company, and I had work and a purpose to my life. Most important I had goals.

End