Collection 3
Here are some stories I've put into the meat grinder. Will probably get around to actually writing more for them in the near future (hopefuly).
Pyramid Project.
I went to the local Pyramid recruiter on my 35th birthday.
It was a grand place, to be sure. The building was tall; maybe six, seven stories all counted for. It ran down a length of road, possibly half a kilometer or so, and had multiple entrance/exit doors to allow the tide of men and women seeking a place in the lower echelons of the Game. It had the Pyramid logo above each electronic door, the gold triangle sparkling from behind the matte-black fist, raised in triumphant victory.
My wife and son had accompanied me to the entrance, but been held back by the armed guards at the second checkpoint. I had smiled, and kissed Vinn's forehead, telling her I would be fine.
As I walked into the main recruitment hall, I became aware of how many others were jockying for positions in lines. I turned around and waved to my kin, but their image was soon blocked by other people slowly grinding in. A goat-man must have thought I was waving at him, because he pointed to himself and raised a questioning eyebrow. I shook my head and grinned. It looked like he laughed, but he too was swallowed in the slow but steady press of bodies.
I turned back around and nearly ran into the back of a very short felin-woman. Something about her repulsed me so horrifically I scrambled awkwardly away from her. Looking around I noted that many others were doing the same. She had a dead zone around her about, where nobody would come closer than a meter or two. She looked over her shoulder at me, and I was horrified to find her eyes looked devoid of life, as if reality had completely swallowed her soul. I heard someone murmur about a Void-Pather.
I involuntarily shuddered.
I sqirmed my way more into the crowd, trying to leave her behind. As I made my way to the countless cubicled desks of the recruiters, I noticed a line formation started to occur. I quickly flowed into one.
An hour passed, maybe, when I finally got to the front. The back of my right ankle twitched a little from taking the brunt of the wait, but I stepped foreward, anyways, ready to sign out my papers and anything else I would have to do.
The canid-man behind the desk was humongous. As I walked in, he stood up, towering over his desk. He completely dwarfed me, and I felt a sudden thrill go through my spine. His arms looked as thick as my torso, and I realised with sudden distress that his barrel like chest strained the synth-fabric of his dark green battle tunic.
He smiled with what I'm sure he thought was a convincingly friendly smile. It did nothing for my shocked nerves, however, as it looked more predatory than anything else. He put out his hand, and I dumbly shook it, still leaning back to gaze at his head. His neck looked like it could support a tower structure on it, it was so wide. He gripped my hand in his own, and shook vigorously, nearly pulling me off my feet, and my arm out of its socket.
"Good to meet you," he practically barked as he released my hand. I looked behind me, almost wishing there would be an escape back to normalcy, but the door had already sealed shut behind me. "Sit, sit." He said, waiving a meaty arm at the only chair in the room other than his.
It looked innocent enough. It was wooden; at least, it looked wooden. Someone had spent a lot of money to afford it if it was. The cushion was soft, and felt a little rough, almost like it had been hand sewn. It was definetely an expensive chair.
"I am Second Commisar Sorth Ord'Roden," he said, just as I focused on his name badge. I traced my eyes up his tunic collar and eventually wandered into his piercing gaze.
"Gemen Verdreric." I said, straightening my back a bit.
"I have to say, most human-people have qualms about joining the Pyramid project. What brings you to our humble recruitment office?"
He said it with such sincerity I had to laugh. "The usual, I think." I replied. He smiled, close lipped, in understanding.
"I take it you'll want the family plan, then?" He asked rehtoricaly, pulling out a few a sheefs of synth-papers from multiple folders.
"Yes, yes I would." I said, warming up to his light mood. "Does that cover cross-dental and stress-gene accumilation?" I asked, trying to arch my head sideways to read the papers he was flipping through.
"That and more." He said a bit distractedly, sorting the sheets into some semblance of order. "Here, you'll probably want to read these. They cover any and all extra benifits you can come to have, depending on what job class and training regime you intend to follow."
I flipped through them, taking mental notes on what I might aspire to be.
"You can keep the copies, or I can just upload the files to your Mem-Brain." He pulled out a small, gun-metal box. It gleamed like it had been recently polished as he pulled a tiny chord out from the side of it. There was small lettering on the side of it. It read (SerRecDoc128942-af-1401).
"I, ah... I don't have a Mem-Brain..." I said, looking to the side.
"Ah, I apologise..." he said swiftly dismissing it. "May I ask what model of Fiscal_Pantam have you been loaded with?"
"I don't have F_P either..."
"My apologies again. Kestrel Manish...?"
I shook my head.
"Bemsel & Drascol?"
"Ah, still no..." I sighed. "Look, I don't have any augmetics. I'm one hundred percent Mk-1 Human."
"And you... still want to be a part of the Pyramid project...?" He asked, sounding slightly taken aback.
"Well, yes, I have a family to think about, don't I?"
"You are the first human-person to not only come through my door without augmetics, but to also earn my respect without even going through the initial pyramid..." He said, looking back at the scattered paper. He took out an antique, almost box like device from his file cabinet, and with a k-tchuck, a small bit of metal held them together. "Take these." He said, handing them to me. "You will also need to use this to access some of the higher tech equipment."
He put what looked like a small time piece over the back of my palm. When he let go, a thin neon blue nano-strap gelled around into my palm and hardened slightly, holding itself in place.
"So, is there anything I need to sign?" I asked, looking around the small room. It finally dawned on me how spartin it was. A small picture of a family at play, a vine plant literally crawling up one corner. A Slez-Lamp on the desk, slowly sleeping, the light ever so gently pulsing from it. I saw for the first time the edges of another door, nearly completely blocked out by the Commisar's massive bulk.
"Not you. All non modified personel give an oral signing, and have blood taken. Also, you can leave whenever you want. However, you'll be required to give back all the equipment provided to you to specifically designated Pyramid personel."
"Oh, well of course." I said, nodding like it was standard news to me. It wasn't of course. I'd never even met anyone that admitted they had just 'left' the Pyramid before.
"Now, if you'll just step through the next door, I'm sure Technical Sergeant Montran will guide you through the next set of entrence systems." He smiled and put his hand out again. I gripped it and looked into his eyes. Something was hidden, but for the most part I felt welcomed. I would have to recheck those benefits for any fine print later...
"Thank you," I said, then stepped around the desk and waited for the door to cycle open.
*********
A cantralto voice chimed in, neatly catching everyones attention.
"Welcome to the Pyramid. Body armor is not included..."
*********
With giddy realization I noticed how silly it made me feel.
I was just staring at it, watching the slow roil of smoke as it was washed away by the slight breeze. It was a grenade, sitting not an arm stretch away. It had probably been dropped by someone above me that was hit in the blast, or somehow the oponents had gotten closer in the time I had been out than I thought. My mind was so absorbed by fear that I couldn't even move.
It emitted a short Ffft, and a larger puff of smoke popped out, then... nothing. I sat still for what seemed like an eternity. It remained standing up, completely inert.
Mocking me.
Daring me to move an inch.
Just as I couldn't tolerate it any more, and was about to get up, it gently rolled on it's side. I froze, not even daring to breath, lest I provoke it by accident. Again it remained still, not moving. Something thupped into the metal sheet I was lying against. I jerked my head to the right to look at it.
There was a hole about the size of my thumb, bent inwards, with jagged serations surrounding it's insides. It was at about shoulder hieght, and was less than a handspan away from me.
There was another thup, this time to my left. It looked nearly identicle to the previous hole, but it was at head hieght this time.
With a sudden horror I relised a novice sniper was trying his aim on me.
I jumped up and ran, the grenade forgotten.
Oh man... the Pyramid Project... I had had great expectations or that story when I first started writing it. Unfortunately, like it does most of the time, personal matters interveened with the continuation of the story. Such as being laid off and then my computer breaking, losing the 3 chapters I had written for it on the side. In all actuallity, I believe I will finish this story by late 2012, if things go the way I want them to. Realistically though? It may never get proper ending due to personal constraints. Here's hoping for the 2012 scenario.
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The Runner.
I love running. Oh sure, running as a human is all well and good, but being a vampire and pounding down the streets at night, flickering through multiple visions at once... now that is exhilerating. You don't tire. You don't stop. You don't think. You move at nearly supersonic speads, but there is no friction. Molechules slip past you, moulding into a subsolid barrier that vacuums you forward without a sound. Every twitch of a muscle has the potential of sending you into a horrible miscalculated dive. Oh sure, it hurts for a few seconds, but then, you only stop for that long, yeh?
Then you're back up and running again. Ceaselessly, tirelessly, unendingly going, less than a hairsbreadth away of the next crash. Sometimes I run out into the water just to do that. Crash and bounce and slap into unyeilding water a few times just to come back done running again. Well, that's how I do things anyhow. I've only met a few other vampires myself. Like, 3 or 4, maybe...
Now, you probably wonder why there aren't that many vampires, yeh? Well, as it happens to be, vampirism is apparently an extremely hard to catch virus. The virus is so delicate that it is constantly dieing at the slightest provocation. If the virus comes in contact with anything but already contaminated blood, it just doesn't survive. Too hot, too cold? brittle breaks and all that. You can eat a fistful of the virus and it won't infect you. In fact, it would be as if you just ate a few protien pills instead. It would help you. At least, that is as far as I know. I don't really care about details.
So anyhow, this one day, I'm just running yeh? running around the world, keeping ahead of the sun, just by minutes, if even that. Truly fun. Well, it isn't like I need to anyhow, it's just for my self esteem. I can walk in daylight just like the next person. I eat, sleep, think the same even. Well, maybe not. I think the same things as before, just a lot faster. and more often. But back to the story. I'm running in some country, yeh? Mighta been russia, I dunno. Anyhow, I go in this alleyway, and I catch a glimpse of some guy with a knife, and he's holdin' at some dam's neck, and I ca'nt just run by, oh no.
I hit this chain fence, probably 800 miles an hour.
Suffice it to say that it got blown back a bit. So while the two of them are gawpin' at me as I get up from this major embaressment, I try to hide my irritation under a fake smile. But they just keep lookin' at me, so I says, 'What's happinin'?'
And then the bear is all, 'I found her first.' Like I was trying to take his snatch an' grab or somethin'. But I wasn't gone have that, because once they see you, you're commited, yeh? I mean, I don't do it for my conscience or nuthin', I'm just sayin', once your commited, you gotta follow through, yeh?
So anyways, I'm like, 'beat it, or the pain will commence,' or something like that, and flexed my arms.
And he goes, 'What?', or amybe 'Fuck,' or something with that kinda vowel sound. But by then I was already running up at him and grabbing the shank. Then I gave him a little something to remember me by.
By then the dam's pulled her composure back, and instead of thanking me, she gets all in a tiffy and says something like, 'What took you so long,' with this awesome thick, (probably russian) accent. Like I was watching this the whole time.
So I says, I says, 'Had to save my cat, he caught the wrong persons tongue one too many times,' and she doesn't say nothin' back for a bit, obviously trying to figure that one out. But there wasn't anything to decode in the first place, so I just grabbed her waist and started to run again. And boy, I tell you, running with baggage is even better than not. Lotsa variables an' stuff you can crash on, but you can't crash, 'cause you're trying to keep the cargo whole, yeh? It's a real rush that.
So anyhow, I prolly ran a few miles, her screamin' the whole way, big bunny ears floppin' wildly in my face, messin' with my site. But I stop in this field, where the permafrost is biting at what little brush can survive, and just swing her around some, just to break down the momentum. And her heart was beatin' like a drum in my ears, and her face flushed, and that's about when it hit me. You know, yeh? Anyhows, her face is going pink, and she's breathin' like she just ran a marathon, and that heavy heart of hers is powering through, and I jsut couldn't resist.
I pulled her close and just mashed lips with her, an at first she was taken aback at my awesome prowess, but she melted into my arms anyways, and just breathed in through her nose and everything was feelin' pretty good, yeh? Well, as nearly all good things come to an end, we broke the kiss, and then she popped me in the face with the back of her hand, and spat right in my mouth!
And I liked it! I rolled her over and passed the spit right back with another kiss, and man, if the last one was awesome, this one was like heaven. I mean, lips pressed so tight they was prolly white, tongues fightin' for domination. Even our slobber was drooling out a bit. Fun, yeh?
Anyhow, she shivers and moans, maybe from the cold, maybe from the heat, who can say? But she's moanin', and I stand up again with her in my arms, and this time I run a bit more slowly, half paying attention to where I'm goin', and half not.
But I find this hotel somehow, and I mighta paid as I ran in and took a key, or I might notta, but anyways, we're in this place and there bumpin' music in some language I don't understand at all, comin' from somewhere in a club nearby. And then our clothes are flying all over this room, and from then on it was just how much skin we could keep rubbin' together.
But yeh, good times.
Ah, The Runner... Yet another late night/early morning write. I had been thinking to myself that I needed to make a story where the character had more of a 'feel' to him. One that would provide ample opportunity for laughter, lust, and general excitment. I must say, I think I did a rather nice job.
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_ These things in my head. _
There is...
Always there is...
Something...
...
Something in my head. There is always thoughts; questions, demands.
Knowledge... and the quest thereof...
Always in there...
Thinking...
Wanting to...
...
I had sex with a Wartortle once.
I don't know why. I don't even remember anything of that day; only the heat, and cold, and the eyes watching and never blinking in my mind.
It was tight.
And wet.
And when I pulled my penis out the 'Tortles vaginal walls grabbed so hard they flowered out a little.
But what I'm trying to say is that once in a while you should just stay up as long as you can and listen to what those voices really have to say.
Escape plans for orphans in Teltons.
Escape plans for the PokeMon in room 42.
Escape plans for your sanity.
All relevent; none functionally sound...
...
I made the mistake of playing that one thing at that one place a time and forever ago...
It wasn't like I didn't enjoy it. I was just fascinated that the further I went in, the colder the skin actually became. Like the core temperature of a human, but in reverse. Completely.
Alternating lines in a figment of imagination that remains devoid of meaning. Loss to ratio/scale of mind/matter; mental/physical.
...
The corporeal are enjoyable. You can see youself inside them during intercourse. You know they are enjoying it because their form flickers slightly, and you might fall through them. The means of the physical becomes harder to focus on.
The female gender of Gengar stores physical species' sperm in their tongues. They can temperment the genes and if a stronger option comes along before gestation, the old is expunged from our temporal reality.
I wonder where it goes. Nowhere, maybe...
...
I bought some desiner clothes for $150/average cost per item; last tuesday. I realised why some people do it now; the position of caring one puts into them to stay clean or in undamaged form is almost a game, a hobby.
I gave them to the poor that Wednsday. We are worthless without memories.
I had a giant Butterfree once. It chewed lightly on my hair; a sign of affection, I am wont to believe.
I think I loved it; my best of friends. We did things. Many things. Together.
And seperate.
But still one in the end.
We mated many times. Affection and love. Yes. Love drove us to it so many times. Two beings, one feeling.
We liked to eat icecream. The headchills. The flavors.
The kisses... Oh those were lovely...
...
Bree died in the first battle we ever had because the other trainer couldn't control his Victreebell.
Acid.
Pools of it.
Some splashed me when I tried to save Bree.
Ate my arm off. Immense pain. Worse than anything other than the loss of a loved one. It took my arm, and my eye; my mind.
I think that part is what broke me; made me stronger, crippled.
What doesn't kill you might make things a whole lot worse.
I see things now. Things even I can't explain. The aura of people; their PokeMon, their thoughts. Their dreams. Feelings. Aspirations. Loyalties.
Their love.
These things, yet not these things.
A broken reality for a very broken man.
They put the 'Bell to sleep.
Nighty-night, evil doer.
It made things worse, I suppose; in the world, in the end...
...
Here is my moment of clarity:
Those that claim legendary status only do so because they do not understand the importance of love. They do not care for others and have no remorse when slandered. They have no tolerance for actual pain. The kind that comes from death... and sorrow... and...
And love...
I haven't taken another PokeMon as a true partner since Bree; but maybe one day...
I have been beset by many so called 'Legendary' PokeMon who think they deserve the title, and boast that it is so. They are attracted by my 'power', this curse, and blessing. I know things that which they will never learn, and they think such knowledge will grant them godliness.
They are all fools.
The Bird Trio. Too selfish, jelous.
The Mew, and their Kin. They are careless.
The Dragonfolk who live beyond our ability to find. They are afraid.
Those mongrel dogs and their self-righteuos attitudes of ultimate ' power' and 'clarity'. What they lack is not brawns or brain, but social vigore and the rewards there of.
The world creaters; destroyer of worlds. Nothing but lies; weakness covered by vague references passed through time. Barely listened to anymore, and angry because of.
I have seen into all their minds and know you this. Those that seek the power in PokeMon, you must do so out of love and the pureness of care.
The ultimate test is not a battle of body or mind; only that of emotion and the realisations of their significance...
They will never learn the truth... because they do not have the capacity to love yet, and they lack the patience to learn it...
But such things tire even myself...
Sleep is comfort for those who don't dream..
I dream...
There is...
Always there is...
Something...
...
Something in my head. There is always thoughts; questions, demands.
Knowledge... and the quest thereof...
Always in there...
Thinking...
Wanting to...
...
Escape...
I love you Bree...
This particular injection was done at a rather early hour, after minor amounts of sleep. I can say without hesitating that continuing will either be rather easy, or quite hard. However, I haven't yet mulled it over enough times to decide wether I'm willing to stick with being emo enough for it to feel correct.
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_ The misadventures of Meeb and Djak'warn. _
'Honeslty, Jack, a freaking mini-gun...?'
'Well, Meeb... I mean... I just...' He lowered the slowly winding down muzzles, pointing it towards the floor. The pulvarised ferro-crete dust settling onto his dark green-brown fur. The garrish light filtered through like a jagged blood red glare-light, silouheting him in the blown out hole in the wall. 'You said you needed support...' He finished lamely.
'First you destroy the rover's rear compartment yesterday, and now the gaping hole in my wall. I can't believe this. I can't... Meeby-san, the girls say to me. Meeby-san, why do you always look so worried...? they say. I can't believe I put up with this crap. I mean seriously, I say I needed heavy support with this new nanny buiseness. not a mini-gun... You have a huge knot, Jack, and I really do love you, but sometimes, it almost isn't worth this agitation.' She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs heavily. 'Look at me! I'm barely on the flip side of a hundred and I've got worry lines the size of Landerson Gorge. I'm prematurly aging with life extension!'
'I'll just... go put this away...' He looks down at the children huddled around Meeb's slender legs. They are still staring at him in awe, their little eyes about to bug out in surprise.
Meeb sighed again, then snapped her fingers to get the childrens attention. They all immediatly looked up and watched the complex twist-shuffle she did wit her fingers, then followed the silent command. As the children silently filed into the adjascent room, Jack turned to leave. Meeb grabbed his tight buttocks through the military grade BDU's and squeezed. Then she sighed one last time and hugged him from behind, her hands roaming selectivley over his groin. 'When you come back, make sure you're waring something a father might ware at home.'
'Okay Meeb,' He replied, eyes a little glazed. People stared at him the whole way home, and only when he looked down to take his pants off in the santuary of his room did he realise why. His penis was pressing rather hard along the inside of his pants, his knot tenting it out. Without a thought to it, he went to the bathroom to take care of it before going back to Meeb. She had told him to do this so as not to embaress himself and her. His wa'ronkar would never have been covered back on Sindo, and in fact, if he had not been claimed yet, he would have proudly strut through the communal areas with it out, instigating great fights between the females.
He did not understand Meeb sometimes, but then, humans were so strange as it was. They clothed the very parts that should be open for inspection. They took only one mate at a time, except in very rare occasions. They shortened names without intending insult, even sometimes in the representation of fondness. This was truly alien to Djak'warn. Meeb did this with his own, because she had said she'd rather give him a pet name than spit all over the place. He did not like the pet name Jack, but he did not want her to be mad with him. She was small, but surely the most dangerous and tempermental of females here.
He supposed she was the closest thing he had to a Mo'wag'dur. The Weag'a'daeg'a we're a competative race. The females were massive, and faught to show dominance and prosperity of self. They hunted the Nor'gun for it's meat, bones, and hide. The males were much smaller, but in comparison only. They led sheltered lives, made art and pelt clothes. Generally, they lived in a wa'ronkur of three or four, and relied soley on their Mo'wag'dur to bring in the food and supplies.
When the humans had come and 'accidently' introduced new technologies to the Weag'a'daeg'a, the females had faught fiercly, more fiercly than in any story Djak'warn had heard of, for these precious artifacts. Many females had died for these advanced commodities. It was not unheard of, singularly, for a female to die in the nar'luak, for sometimes females became too aggresive and accidents happened. But never in such large quantities.
Now, many wa'ronkur were twenty strong, or even more, and the females could not support such large harems. They had to teach the strongest of the males how to hunt, to fight. Djak'warn had never been good at natural hunting or fighting. But his natural talent with the human made weapons startled all who saw him in action. For many years he had trained mercenaries how to shoot from long distances. Sometimes in ditances far greater than they were intended for. Many humans had said he was aptly named though, for the literal translation of Djak'warn was: great/long/far-silence/end/death.
What started as a romance comedy, it swiftly took on a life of its own. As you can see, there are still elements with which comedy can be persued, however, in the long run, I do think it will take a more serious path. On a side note, I do believe that I will inject it with a knee slapper every once in a while, if but to stick doggedly to my original bases. :P
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_ Giving Thanks. _
Captain Anderson looked around at his men and women. "There are, it seems, too many people who do not think Thanksgiving is a proper holiday." he saw a few eyes roll over on that one. "Well, I for one am going to make you think again. You are all Americans, and Thanksgiving is an American made holiday. Those pagan fucking pilgrims and ignorant fucking natives may have not thought it was a big deal then; but it was, and is, and should always be. Now let your sergeants buckle your baby asses in. We touch down in 30."
DS-5617, 'Bigger Mamas', screamed through the air, its turbines wailing, the air thudding under the quad pillars of fire. The hull was scorched black from countless drops that day. In less than 5 hours, it had carted nearly 700 armed men and women of the United States (86) from Forte Manchurata to 8 different drop zones along the farther-most front lines. 6 out of the 8 runs it had come in under fire. It had spent a little less than half an hour puting in a temporary bulkhead on the port side where an uneploded anti-air rocket had penetrated. The blood of one Micha, James still coated the seats where it had sprayed out of him in a grizzly mist of hot, wet red. There were multiple perforations from enemy fire, and most, if not all, whistled shilly as the dropship began its more than rapid descent.
Battle Chaplain Pi Tong Gusho started his prayer out loud after getting the nod from the captain, and many of the men in the ship said it with him. "Dear lord in heaven. On this day, let my aim be true, for I am going to kill. Let my cover be true, for I am not going to die. Let my squadmates aim be true, for he is going to cover my ass. Ah-fucking-men."
"Ten seconds!" the the co-pilot half-sceamed over the jetwash, facing in through the open cockpit. He turned around just in time to see the second AA rocket to hit Bigger Mamas that day. This one, however, didn't have faulty parts enough to not explode. The blast took out both pilots, the gunner, and just about everyone within 10 feet of the cockpit.
The autopilot kicked in about two seconds before DS-5617 landed for the last time. The hydrogen plants slammed energy into the overworked turbines. The contents of the dropship experienced 4G's forward, and then they slammed into the ground at almost 2 times the recomended emergency landing speed. The DS rolled twice, nose over ass, then crunched down on its shredded stomach.
More than one person bit their tongue.
For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the moans set in. A short pause and then people started screaming, gagging, choking, wailing. The battle chaplain was, ironically, the first to get up, but not the last. Slowly, painfuly, the rest of the survivors of Interdiction Unit 5501 pulled itself from the floor of Bigger Mamas. Broken bones were common. Bruising was severe. The one person to get off almost completely unscathed was Private Gillian Gunningsly. He had been leaning over his puking squadmate when the DS's autopilot punched the ship forward to avert some of the impact force. As he was the only one partially unharnessed at the time, he had been the only one to fly across the cramped cabin. As he pinwheeled, almost comically, through the interior, the ship slammed home. And then he did, right into the laps of thre others. The cushion of bodies depleted the blow for him, though it only worsened the hapless personels' already painful plight. His right pinky was dislocated, and his ammo harness felt a bit tight from the bruising on his chest, but other than that, he was one extraordinarily lucky young man.
He was the first to blow open the bolts on the emergency hatch. After a few kicks, it fell forward and off the crumpled fusilage. A few blinks from the glaring morning light, and he was wishing he was back at base.
Started it on thanksgiving day. Haven't really put too much thought into it. However, I do hope to continue it at a later date.
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Fox Maltoret.
Fox Arnalto De E Loredor Maltoret the IX, age 300 and change but looking maybe 25, bent down in a very politically compromising, informal, and low class posture, was reattaching the ownership neck-belt buckle onto one of his personal slaves neck. Had anyone important walked into the study at the time, there would have been scandal. The slaves were always required to have neck-belts on, espescially in the presence of a free man, not to mention when said man's pants were open and his throbbing member pressing under their cleft.
Malt, as many of his personal friends called him, was not one to publically show this softer side of himself. He had appearences to keep, no matter how little he actually cared for them. However, this little scrumptious morsal was his favorite. In fact, he didn't even care to hide the fact that most of his servants were underage. They usually walked near, if not compleately naked around his commons. In the areas of outsider traffic, however, they were required to clothe themselves. If but just barely.
"Ninia, I keep telling you, leave the buckle alone. I keep undoing it when it is so loose." His tone was stern, but not uncomforting. He knew he shouldn't be so leniant, but he just couldn't help it when he smelled her auburn hair, fealt her arms, rubbed her soft red fur, licked her....
"Yes Master." Ninia breathed softly.
He throbbed under her. Heard her voice. Everything she did made him so... younger, ready for bed, comfortable, joyful... in love. "Well, it is back on proper, now no more fussing with it."
"Yes Master." She giggled as his manhood pressed more needily against her outer lips.
"Aherm, well... you need to sort out this problem that you started, I think." He smiled as he tensed his groin, lifting her small body up slightly. Her natural lubricant allowed her to slide along the top until his very thick knot was pressed right under the base of her tail. "And it needs sorting out fast. I have another get together that unfortunately needs attending.."
"Master, why don't you just stay here and play with us?" A slight pout was barely colored in.
Fox grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off. Her light cry was stifled almost as soon as it came out. He smacked his leather gloved hand across her buttocks with such speed there was an audible crack. "You will not suggest such corruptive thoughts. Those and their kin are the impliments of my downfall, and if I fall, this place will be taken over and you and the others will not have any privelages, unlike you do now. Do you understand?" He yanked her head sideways and glared into her eyes.
Her petite muzzle opened, but affraid only moans would come out, she rocked her head in ascent instead.
"I didn't hear you, slave!"
"YES MASTER!" She cried. Her eyes watered enough that a single tear streaked down on her left side.
"Good. Remember this. It is very important for me that you do. I cannot think about things like that yet. I am not ready to sever my ties to the public. Maybe in another few years. Maybe. But that is far ahead. As for now, we will put this behind us."
Ninia sniffled and wiped her eyes, the salty fluid darkening her fur. "Yes Master."
With a sigh, he rubbed her cheek fondly. "Now then, I believe you were going to take care of this problem?"
The moment past, she smiled once again. "Yes Master!" She bubled out.
His slightly limp member jumpe back to painful hardness in a few heart beats. The hot red skin was taught as a drum, and shiny from her fluids. "I think the wall, this time." Fox said, pulling her by the hand to the one wall in his study that had his grand guild's tapestry hanging upon. She turned so she was facing from him, and he lifted her onto his penis. As she slid down, he growled lightly. Her tightness seemed to never let up. It was driving him wild... hungry...
Feeling her collar being tugged, she leaned her head back, mouth ajar in pleasure. She could hear his heart beating from where she was, a heavy solid thud that pressed her insides to the limit with each pulse of his manhood.
He pushed into her as hard as he could, needy and urgent. The knot stopped them from connecting at the hips, but it was still an awesome pleasure. She gurgled in delight, heady with endorphines.
Suddenly his mouth was on her, not the formal tip lick he used most of the time. This was new. He had opened his his muzzle wide, and turne sideways. The result was their mouths locked together longways. His tongue invaded her mouth with such dominance and gusto she shivered and wondered if any other woman was as lucky as her. His thick muscle was lapping along her teeth, the roof of her mouth. At one point it tried to push down her throat, and in a heated daze she tried to swallow it. It went in her esophogas, and each swallow was like an erotic massage, rippling along it. With a groan fox pulled off her muzzle, breathing heavy.
Gripping her thighs, he mashed her against the covered wall. He slammed once, twice, three times. On the fourth, an audible pop, and a screech from Ninia, detailed his knot pushing past her outer lips. Panting, heavily, Malt couldn't believe it. He had never been able to knot with anyone since childhood. He was just too big. With a relieved laugh he pushed into his slave with vigor. When he pulled, the feeling was so powerfully alien he came. Bending her over, he thrust and thrust as his seed spilled forth in hot, thick jets, roping along her inner walls. Each pulse was mashed into her womb, having no space to go around.
I actually drew a picture about a year ago, that had this as it's back story. If I can get a working scanner, I will upload it. Until then, you'll all have to make do without. :3
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Cassieopaea.
I punched down, connecting with hard muscle. A muffled hiss, then I was flipping over a side swept leg. The back of my skull cracked into the solid concrete floor, and for a second, the world was flashing multiple colored stars. I rolled over as a huge, tightly balled fist smashed next to where my head had been not a second before. Jerking back, I bit down onto the offending wrist, jaw locking with an audibal click. I tasted blood, both mine and hers, and then my neck snapped sideways as she slapped my cheek with her other elbow. I held on tight and kneed her in the stomach as rapidly as I could, bending her arm the opposite way. Her abbs felt like steel with every blow, but they were softening under the bombardment of blows. She brought her elbow back into my cheek again, and this time I let go.
We pushed away from each other, got up, and started to circle again.
I could feel my need in the open, the cool air exciting me. My heart pumped heavy, each thud slamming blood through my body. It fealt like I was at risk of falling apart from the force of it. She was bigger than I remembered; the brief flash of jungle green scales I had seen in the fading light hadn't been much. Now that we stood apart, I had a fine view. The duty shift lights had automatically turned on.
She wore an extended loin cloth, and nothing more. Her head crest was flared large and back, engorged with muscle and blood. Her yellow eyes were half lidded, and didn't blink. She stood around three and a half feet taller than my own 6'2" frame. Muscled bulged and shifted with each step. Her hemipenis waved proud and erect, twitching with each step she took.
She had ripped my own clothes off expertly when she had tackled me earlier, and now my pale skin reflected the bright blue white duty lights. I'm not all that muscled, but I knew how to throw my weight a bit, espescially when it came to her.
We scircled a few more times, then the telling flash in her eyes warned me of her innevitable advance. She took two steps, closing the distance between us, and then her open palm caught my chest full on. I grunted, and she connected with her other hand. I fell on the ground, completely winded. It fealt like every bone in my chest cavity had exploded and was sending fragmentory bone shards through my organs.
I tried to breath, but her mouth was over mine before I could draw in any air. Her thick tounge mashed into my mouth, and I tried to suck on it as much as I tried to breath. It was an impossible goal, but I wanted to do it anyways. My bodily needs won out, though, and I rose up for some oxygen. A couple of gasps later, and I was feeling better already.
With a contented hissing sigh, she layed down fully upon me. I groped her ample chest with what strength I could muster, and she mashed her tounge back into my mouth. I sucked on it for a minute, and when her hemipenis jockeyed for position between us, I pushed my own single form against her. She humped slightly, her twin ends trying to wrap around my own, sliding lewdly, with much satisfaction on both our parts.
Letting her bossom go, I gripped her hips, and pulled up hard, rolling us slightly to the side. I pushed into the warm crevice that her hemipenis was sprouting from.
We both sighed. It was nice...
I ground against her for a few more moments, and then she stiffened against me, eyes shut, holding on tight. Her hemipenis jerked once, twice, and then a milky jet of fluid arched from the tips, splishing upon the ground betwen us. Watching her blissfull state sent me into a frenzy, and then seconds later, I found orgasmic relief inside of her.
This one was just a look inside one of my many dreams. I remember few, but this one and its ilk are always there when I wake up in the morning. Love you Cassie! <3
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Well, I guess that wraps things up for the moment. Now to add the tags... :3