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Part 17 of Alexander’s Accounts, continuing from hearing the news

“I am not working in the sewers!”, exclaimed Cubit.

“The feeling’s mutual”, said Biblia.

I nodded, half-adrift, thinking about how Artemis was still probably asleep. I missed being spooned. Maybe i’d crawl into bed with him later.

Cubit sighed. “Maybe we should go move to those villages and be free.”

“Free from thought for all the work you’d do”, i said. Pragmatic. “There’s a reason they give less of a fuck about differences; everyone counts.”

“Hmm”, said Cubit. “I still don’t mind.”

“Fine then”, i said. “I’m going to spoon Artemis some more.”

“Whatever, pervert”, joked Cubit.

I chuckled and found my way back into the bed. Artemis was half-awake in the dark recluse of the room. His waiting arms caught me and pulled me close to his body, the hair forming some kind of padded cushion.

I loved the feeling as he cheekily moved his legs and captured mine between them, sending tingles coursing though my spine.

His hardening dick was pushing against the materials of whatever he was wearing, pushing through it to exert force onto my buttocks.

His hands moved to cover my stomachy area, his fingers stretching to worm their way below the elastic of my underpants and onto my dick, feeling it, kneading it with his thick fingers.

The erection was throbbing, impatient, lustful, begging for something to stimulate it.

I decided to be the thing, pulling down my underpants, pulling them across his knuckles. I guided the erect shaft towards my asshole as he moved to pull me onto his body.

I took the hint, pulling away the blanket and sitting up, moving myself to suspend myself almost precariously above his dick.

I let myself fall, fall onto the shaft, feeling it push past my asshole and through, glancing against the prostate. I betrayed myself with a little moan, inviting an audible snigger from those in the other room.

They knew.

I hesitated, Artemis’s cock deep inside me, filling space in a way i was unacquainted to, thinking about the way i’m not into reverse voyeurism. Artemis looked at me and gave a small frown. “It’s ok, they know we’re perverts.”

I chuckled, giving into using my legs to bounce me against his dick. He loved it, his mouth agape. Mine was too, as i felt the thrumming against my prostate. I closed my eyes to focus on the feeling, almost like a sea of gentle lightning stirring into a storm with every stroke.

My dick was becoming erect too. It bounced against Artemis’s tummy-hair.

I felt the raw passion welling up, the cock bouncing against my prostate. I could feel the desire to cum radiating from my balls.

So, i continued bouncing and getting in-tune with the feeling.

And i slowly felt it growing, the feeling of cum going down the urethra and, an-

The orgasm hit like a train, coursing across my body like ripples. Cum ribboned out in white threads flying through the air, onto his hair, making a real mess.

A looked into his eyes. He was on edge, and with a final push as i fell back onto his pelvis, his dick squirted, filling what space there was left.

“That was amazing”, i said between breaths, looking into Artemis’s eyes. “But too short.”

He simply smiled in response.

We were dirty, covered in fluids, filthy creatures. Showertime fun? “Do we have an en suite?”, i asked.

He glanced in the direction of a wardrobe and nodded. I smiled. The bathroom must have had two entrances.

I smiled cheekily. “Let’s”, i said. “Let’s get up and shower.”

Artemis was having none of that, taking his hands and holding onto my thighs, playing with them, tapping a silly rhythm. I almost recognised it from a crappy tune on werew- no, i’m not going to cbat myself here!

I pushed and the thought and doubled down instead, leaning over and massaging his pecs, egging him into going to the bathroom.

He agreed, and we found our way into the bathroom, i locking the two doors. I turned the water on. It took only a few seconds to heat up, presenting a wall of cleansing steam, obscuring the stench of semen.

I stepped in first, followed by Artemis. Loose hairs ran down almost immediately, i running my fingers through it to extract what i could. He did the same with what little hair i had, revealing much less.

“Cubit should really go cut that”, he said, looking over my overgrowing hair.

“Yeah”, i agreed.

We continued under the torrent of water, designed not for two but yet still for a large body. We both fit underneath, Artemis giving me a little more water with my lack of hair to keep i close. He kept me close to him with his hands, rubbing across my back. I took the shampoo and lathered it up against the drier sections of his hair, taking little bits for myself, to work out the grease wound up in it.

I did the same for him, my hands getting covered in hair each time.

He chuckled, and did it himself.

“So i guess that’s why they have these combs everywhere”, i said.

He took the hint. “Yep”

I took the comb from his hands and ran it through his hair, slowly, gingerly. He was enjoying it, a second erection rising. I took it in my hands and teasingly rubbed it.

He smiled as i took the comb for another run across his nipples, down towards the member.

I knelt down to place the member in my mouth, tasting the head. It was salty, tasting like pre.

My lips began running up and down the shaft as i sucked gingerly and gently, licking for a stronger taste hiding behind the foreskin, an intense manly taste laced with salt and a slight bitterness.

The water ran down my face, tickling it in the way warmer-than-lukewarm water usually did.

In a backhanded revenge, i grabbed his balls and massaged them.

He moaned, quietly, almost masked by the noise of the water.

I sucked harder, picking up the rhythm, sucking harder, massaging with my tongue more and more. Artemis moaned harder, involuntarily. Suddenly, his hands grabbed my hair and pulled me in, forcing my nose into the hair, breathing in the musky stench.

He came with an astonishing squirt, running into my throat uninvited.

I stood up and continued combing him, removing the little bits of dust and crap stuck in the hair yet loose.

We finished up. I towelled myself off, Artemis opting to use a hair dryer.

“So… finished yet?”, asked Cubit from the other room.

“Yeah”, i said, putting on some underpants.

Biblia glared at me. “Next time, do that whilst we’re not here. It’s an ugly mental image.”

Artemis chuckled. “It’s my flat.”

“And i should feel safe here”, she retorted.

“You’re safe outside”, Artemis said.

“Whatever”, i said. “We should get jobs, before we loose choice.”

Biblia shook her head. “The government’s saying that to boost the workforce.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure”, said Artemis. “The government’d be very happy to send people into the sewers.”

“We should just move into a village”, said Cubit. “And take work we know’ll be stable.”

“Maybe”, said Artemis. “… If it didn’t mean i had to split off from the rest of my society. I have connections.”

Biblia glared.

“Let’s go find a job somewhere”, i said. “Hey, maybe the restaurant downstairs is open for us.”

“And once we’re there the government probably won’t pull us out”, said Biblia.

“Except for the fact restaurants aren’t an essential job”, Artemis said. “They say so in the law.”

“Let’s go to the job centre then”, i shrugged.

“But they’ll only give shitty jobs for our unmorale”, said Cubit.

“Worth a shot”, i shrugged.

So, we left the flat, went downstairs, onto the streets. Freshly cleaned, spick and span.

We walked down the streets Artemis navigated like a guided missile, washing up at the job centre in record time. Werewolves can walk quite quick. We can jog.

A young yet wiry clerk stood inside, staring at some papers in the desk, glancing at the tv in the corner. A fly flew past like an eyeroll from the world.

“Ah, so you’ve also heard the news?”, he asked.

“Yeah”, Artemis said. “What are the options?”

“Well, so far, we’ve got spaces in the sewers, some in anti-north applications, and some as assistants in the hospital.”

“Any more?”, asked Cubit.

“Not yet… and they’re not coming”, said the clerk.

A couple burst in behind us. “-Before you write us off as workers let us just tell you our new plan.”

They were two humans, staring deadbolt at the clerk.

The clerk rolled his eyes. “After this group”, he said.

“Not fair”, said the taller of the couple. “They have more people.”

“But their needs aren’t that different. Caia.”

I stopped for a second. Caia. I’d heard something vaguely similar in Spanish Calla. STFU.

Damn, the clerk had words.

“Go on”, i said, pushing them on. “Tell us your idea, we can wait.”

The shorter one took a metaphorical stage, striding up to the desk, putting on a forced presenter’s smile. “So… We want to go import humans from earth… we have some clients here already using the power of law.”

“Interesting”, said the clerk.

“So… do we get some special roadmap?”, asked one of the pair.

“Officially, according to the rulesheet, no…”, began the clerk.

“…but i’ll let you pass just this once, get you a fast-track to a place in some lower government office?”, he finished.

“And what about the higher ones?”, challenged Cubit.

“Werewolf-only… only they have the brawn and the brains to run a country like this one”, said the clerk with a slight smirk. “Well, that’s the official excuse.”

“But in the end they’re just speciesist bastards”, witted Artemis.

Groans of agreement all around.

We stepped up to have our say again. “…So, we can’t work in a restaurant?”, i asked.

“Nope”, said the clerk. “Unessential.”

“What about a hairdresser?”, asked Cubit.

“Nope, unessential”, the clerk said.

“And librarian?”, asked Biblia.

“Nope, un-es-en…-tial…? -tal?… fuck”, the clerk ran off with. “As i said, pick something different.”

“Anything fulfilling?”, i asked.

“Well… hospitals are pretty damn fulfilling”, he said.

“Maybe we should just take hospitals whilst they’re available”, said Biblia.

Eye rolls all around.

An idea struck me. “Let’s make our own jobs!”

There were looks of confusion from those around me, inviting further explanation. “We could make a geurilla factory at our flat and sell our goods.”

“You’re trying to start a business.”, said Biblia.

I smiled with a nod - of course i am.

Artemis, though, almost jamp in surprise. “Let’s go try that!”

---

You see, the job conscription may be mandatory, but our death was too, and yet our death didn’t happen. Artemis can push past the weeds of bureaucracy and open what is officially a workplace, if we want such.

Artemis had taken a trip to some shops to find us something to do. Of course, we hadn’t the northern money yet. We were running low on our own reserves.

The news, the thing we turn to when bored or otherwise waiting, was dry today. The logic is pretty simple; bore people into touching grass and then throw a job at them. At least that’s what i think it is. There are too many books here for boredom to hurt us.

The news didn’t show much for today apart from the same three items, in a loop; low numbers of people looking for jobs, low numbers of jobs available, and record highs from “pruning”. It was, of course, designed to bounce against each other. Every loop, the newscaster would say a new introduction line. I wonder what he did as the loop went yet again.

The cycle was broken at one point by a pirate transmission; some static followed by a few unintelligible words followed by static and the loop’s Sisyphean rotation.

Artemis did eventually come back, cutting up the news’s cycles. In the bag was some thick thread and needles. “We’re doing an old hobby of mine!”

Cubit paid one dismissive glance at the contents being shown up and rolled his eyes. “Knitting…? Do i look 70 to you?”

“No, and this is crochet, actually.”

A chuckle from me.

“The plan is simple - make some cute decorations, and we can sell them and make a living.”, said Artemis.

“Do i look like i just escaped death for my species just do some stupid-ass crochet for some stupid ass business that won’t even work?”, asked Cubit.

Artemis stood for a second, considering. “Well, if you don’t like it, i guess we can start a different business…?”

I volunteered instead of idea-less cubit, something on the opposite end of the scale - “Let’s make knives”.

Cubit smiled weakly, either out of cringe or appraisal.

“One of us can do the carpentry and another can do the blacksmithing”, i suggested, just to push the idea.

“We’re not qualified”, stated Biblia. “We need something easy.”

A flash of inspiration on Artemis’s part. “Well, there’s something from when i was in the True Vigilantes…”

Cubit turned in shock. “You were in the True Vigilantes?!”

Artemis nodded. “It’s not important right now - down the street and to the left of the men’s ‘club’ is a genus III tartfruit tree. The fruits are unbearably minty and sour the powder’s good. The rates are quite high right now.”

“… is it that good a flavouring?”, i asked.

Artemis shook his head with a cheeky smile. “I’ll connect us into the underworld of dealers. We’ll call ourselves a pharmaceutical company.”

“And just so you know”, jotted in Biblia, “The other three genera make a proper flavour powder.”

And it hit me - Herricane doesn’t come from nowhere. Wait, why must it come from any where? “The government seriously hangs up drug-producing trees?”

Cubit rolled his eyes in perceived obviousness. “The police love the prison subsidies; pocket a bit for themselves and get that flat they’ve always wanted, only after generous gifts of genus III to the urban planning and parks department, of course.”

That was that. The conversation dried up and Artemis and i went out with a few bags to collect a bunch of tartfruit. It wasn’t the season - it usually never was, but there’d still be fruits.

He’d lead most of the process, drawing off his experience. We’d do most of the processing, drawing off our number. He’d get the resources and tools, fitting in, and we’d do the packaging and preparation, hidden away. He’d sell the powder and distribute the money, and we’d vote on how to share it.

So, there we stood, i perched atop his shoulders, collecting the ripe fruits. They looked deceptively like the Granny Smiths from Earth. Yet still, nobody has sneaked into the orchards to clone them. Mentofruit also produce herricane. Samuel loved a bit of good old risk.

We’re making Tartfruit-II-powder Herricane, distillates I and II.

A police officer stopped us as we walked back - “And why are you harvesting mentofruit?”

“We’re making a dessert”, says Artemis, looking at me as the policeman did. “Well, he is, underneath us as always.”

The police officer stared at me. Hatred. He wasn’t armed and probably not in the mood to have to wash his claws, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have let me pass.

Into the building and up to our flat - we struggled up the stairs, heaving our loaded bag, one hand on each handle. I was in front given Artemis’s size. It was difficult but rewarding.

We get back to the flat, announced our code, and dropped the heavy bag just there.

“We have the fruit. The seeds have one distillate, and the flesh the other distillate. For the seeds, shove them in the oven and grind them as they cool. For the flesh, dry a mush of it, put it into the turboextractor, take the resulting solution, distil it, grind the resulting crust that forms, and leave in a moist place. Any crystals are the tartfruit sugars and should be discarded.”, Artemis infodumped.

That’s too fucking much, i realised. “What the fuck is a turboextractor?”

Artemis pointed to the stove. “Just there, on the left, that black wasp-hip looking thing”

“…that’s a moka pot”, i said.

“Not here it isn’t!”

Biblia was already reaching for a tartfruit. I saw a glimpse of a cheeky expression before she became all businesslike again. “I’ll do the seeds, and i guess Artemis can demonstrate doing the flesh.”

So, there we went, teasing the herricane out of the apples. I helped Biblia with the seeds. Tartfruit are incredibly low on herricane - for each fruit, the seeds produce one gram and the flesh a further 10 grams; a short yield for some 500 grams of fruit.

Artemis was working at the flesh. He made with it a most horrendous smell - the muddy, earthy notes of rotting apples combined with a sickly lemony smell as the mush he was preparing was sloshed around in a decreasingly viscous process. He tossed seeds into a bowl to give to us for processing which wasn’t much more than some parchment paper and a metal tray. Biblia was almost giggling. I felt the need too.

The smell turned sweet. The laughter was contagious. Wait, i think i know what’s going on…

Shit, i know what’s going on! It’s hilarious!

Stay tuned for part 18!

---

Some notes:

• For any of you reading further in the future, it’s been about three months since i updated this series. My memories of its lore are fading. Sorry for the hiatus! I’m so back rn though and i’ve come with some ?new internet slang? to dump into my stories where they fit.

• Also some fresh new arc ideas

• Also some dystopian short story ideas inspired by new technology; ring a bell with Meta’s new glasses!

• Also having finished Worm (half-hours spent outside on the terrace reading rips of the book from Amazon send to kindle whilst being basked in sun are OG) and 1984 and Clockwork Orange and beginning to read a furry book on Wattpad as well as Brave New World (at the same time; interacting with furry stuff in public makes me feel weird and only sometimes is that feeling fun)