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Here is the turning point in this series. It's serious now, folks, This is where The Corporation begins to get more vicious, the metaphysics play a more important role and betrayals get worse. Part 4 has very little erotica in it, so anyone reading should do so simply for the enjoyment of the story and characters. There is a horror element in the last half of the story and there is more supernatural elements, and is also the shortest chapter so far. I think I might have overdone it a bit, though, please lemme know what you think. I'd greatly appreciate being notified of major mistakes or inconsistencies.

Soundtrack: main soundtrack is still "Fourth World, Vol. 1: Possible Musics" by Jon Hassell and Brian Eno. "Spiritchaser" by Dead Can Dance is the second best option. Any DCD, Brian Eno, Harold Budd, Lisa Gerard, Brendan Perry, Steve Roach and the like will suffice. For part IV, however, I'm suggesting some dark rock/metal such as Agalloch and Tool. Sopor Aeternus & The Ensemble of Shadows will fit very nicely too. For the last half of Day 34, I suggest the songs "May I Kiss your Wound?" (the version from Corpse Standing in Desperation is better than the Inverted Womb album) and especially "The Goat" by Sopor Aeternus, along with "Eraser" and "Reptile" by Nine Inch Nails, as these few songs fit the hallucinations extremely well. Yall will do well to take my advice.

Additionally, there are some pictures that are associated with this chapter. first is Epic Band, which is in my pictures gallery.

Second is "Shoggoth Rising", http://www.furaffinity.net/view/459475/ by Shub-Yoggoth. It's the mouthy monster.

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Section 4, "Effluvium" Days 29 through 34

~^'^'^~?~^'^'^~ Day 29

Their subject, a Gloria Selner, had been their unwilling liaison for the past several weeks. Up until the events which their main target, Fredrick Patterson, had disproved her theories that he would break quickly under the duress of their manner of questioning, she had given them accurate and useful information regarding him. The male lovers were completely ignorant of her workings with them, evidently.

Gloria, looking weary and irritated beyond tolerance, sat within the confines a salon of sorts, an antechamber that was small and uncomfortable: The Corporation's provisional, ad hoc office for their stay in Borel, whose purpose was solely for the observation of the Den and its few-known subjects. The fact that she was brought here under secrecy, and they hid their location from her eyes via a cloth wrapped around her head, only frustrated her further.

Situated in a chair next to her reclined her "employer", Jorg Stridhel. It was this gentleman who had first approached her about a month ago, and like had done so with Freddy - completely unbeknown to her - offered her a proposition. She had not been easily convinced at first, and was given a few days after the proposal to consider it. Her reward for it was much more easily attained, however, being solely of currency.

"You're starting to disappoint us, Gloria." Jorg said. They sat in the tiny room unaccompanied, submerged in a gentle darkness. This slightly obscured his face, though, and she was fearful that they were hiding something terrifying, some sort of nocuous plan for her as punishment for her poor results. And with that, she wondered if she could summon enough wit to buy her life back.

"Look, you're asking me to do something that I just..." she shook her head until her ear flopped around, between them a glare directed towards Mr. Stridhel, as cold as the bitter and atrocious ice that constructed the heart. The idea struck her so quickly she took it up and accused him of such a characteristic. Also, he was a bastard.

"So my heart is cold, then? I seem to be confused, for I'm pretty sure it was -you- that betrayed Freddy and told us all about him, where he lives, works, his classes. You also seemed eager to do so when we paid you, what was it, 500h?" The number was the amount of money they given her for that exact information.

"But I can't be truly angry with you. You had no idea that all you told us was useless. Freddy has been pretty damn hard to convince; it seems that what his heart truly wants is completely immaterial. Getting into medical school is not good enough to... It's what makes us human; it's what makes us better than you." His words were acidic poison to her, and the vomit now drenching her mentality drove her to inner fury.

"Those things make you furless creatures better than us? It was the human race that had caused the Chaos War..."

"And what is your point in bringing up such an unrelated topic? The Chaos War? You think I ridicule your species because of some generations-old grudge? No, it was not us that started it, if you insist on speaking of something of which you obviously know very little about. We simply aided in it, and it was us humans that finally completed it, destroying those obsolete philosophies and religion you animals clung to so desperately. But what the hell is your point, Miss Selner? I'm talking about the immediate execution of your good friend Freddy Patterson, do you want that?" What he said before the alarming proposal of Freddy's impending death was incorrect: it had not been the humans that finally consummated the war. But this subject was dissolved in an instant.

"You said you weren't going to kill him!" Shrieked the wrathful dog, "He won't tell you shit, so you just kill him? I'm not fucking tell you anything either then!"

"We purchased your friendship for him for 500h, it shouldn't bother you too much if I go over there and blow his head open with a gun. You forfeited all rights to defend him, you must remember that, dog." Gloria shuddered with a gasp and collapsed her shoulders, hiding tears, straining drops of agonized, brackish water that leaked from behind her tormented mind, the stinking swamp that was her brain now, The Corporation had seen to that. Why did he insist on driving into her mind the cruel words, though?

"Miss Selner, you know that I don't want that. I don't want to hurt or kill Freddy. I personally don't wanna kill anyone. We leave that sort of thing to your kind." Jorg persisted in the racial insults, glaring at her as she did him, his stern countenance still cold and indifferent. The attitude was real, his beliefs and words totally genuine, and Gloria knew this very well.

"He's now involved with one of the regular patrons, a man named Edward Harkin. Apparently they're lovers, and now Fredrick's decided he wants to protect his life. He wants to completely break off our agreement."

"Please!" Gloria blurted, "Leave us three alone, please, at least us three. Ned hardly ever goes to the Den anymore..."

Jorg did not respond, but his countenance slowly betrayed the previous look of hatred on his face; he began to seem considerate. She wondered how many of his proclamations, however, were true and which were only to deceive her. "We'll give you another 500h. No, is that not enough for you to blab your mouth? 1000h then." Stridhel stood and moved across the room and quit the room through a door which he left open, allowing her visual access.

All she had ever wanted from this business relationship was money. That the Den would be condemned was of no consequence to her. The Corporation had not lied to her; she knew that William - who was the ringleader they were looking for - would die if they managed to discover him. It took much fear on her part, and a deep, revolting grasp on obsolete, barbaric instincts, to accept the payments and tell them about Freddy's involvement. She merely had to think for herself, for her own family and its welfare.

Jorg stood hunched over a desk in a similarly dark room, here with a small and dim lamp, and manipulated a small machine on the centralized desk. Mechanical clinks sounded from it, noises that spelled fright to her, even if their intents on her were now obviously completely benign. He returned after several moments, closing the door to the other chamber and proceeded towards the second portal in the room with terrified Gloria. He peered out from the smallest crack in the door after opening it and handed a small bit of paper to an unseen soldier.

Their eyes met once again. The freezing stare had transformed, now black and tumultuous. Jorg beamed his dark energy into her, with intimidating reflections. The human, slouched and wearied, mirrored exactly many of those past relations of her own, the ones that once betrayed her trust and molested her faith... faith and belief in general kindness of living beings. With them... faces so much like the monumental Jorg... had destroyed her perception of love.

She fumbled with her thoughts, considering regret for having betrayed Freddy. She wondered why they had chosen her as a secret liaison, why they had chosen Freddy? She was quite on the verge of inquiring such things. But no, she could not pity them, and remorse would simply destroy what peace of mind she had left. She had weaved her own pattern in Freddy's fate and now there was no regret, she could not dismantle the plans The Corporation had set for him. But she would still agonize.

She had looked down when the door opened and Jorg received the 1000h. He approached her, slumping for her with heavy steps, then throwing down the money, heavy paper tender into her lap, being sure to display his contempt for her and apathy for what he was asking her to do. He sat back down, staring, a snarl of concealed teeth behind his lips. He was simply waiting, and she knew it.

Gloria wept quietly.

~^'^'^~?~^'^'^~ Day 31

Six hours and thirty-seven minutes had been their sleep duration. The extra thirty-seven minutes had been sufficient lenient time in order for Freddy to get 'just enough' sleep, according to his drowsy ramblings. The time read 11:00 AM, and the show was stated on their tickets to begin at 12:30 PM. Ned, the night before - prior to their drinking and stumbling - had taken a long, analytical view from outside the hotel's lobby doors in order to surmise a decent walking distance, coming to the conclusion that it would take about fifteen minutes to walk there, not taking into account traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian.

Ned had awakened a half hour before Freddy and tried to convince him to follow him down to the lobby for a quick breakfast before their walk, but the human persisted in simply those thirty-seven minutes of additional sleeping time. Ned ventured downstairs and gathered some vittles for his lover and brought them back to the room. Upon awakening, Freddy ate and apologized for his childishness, and soon they were off to the auditorium.

Officially, the place was the Conley-Austin Auditorium. Plexadonn had played here many, many years ago with his old and long-time dissolved trio SPZ. At the door were pamphlets with a compendious essay of Plexadonn's history with SPZ then as a solo act, barely mentioning his history with the Chaos War, but it mattered very little. Freddy and Ned immersed themselves into the crowd outside of the main stage room and listened to the bristling and excited talk of some of the other visitors.

"You think," Freddy whispered to his lover, "that we could get Plexy cornered backstage and force him to have a hot threesome with us?" Ned started giggling idiotically, turning a few heads here and there for a brief glimpse, folks curious about the joke.

"Somehow I doubt that will work." Ned concluded.

The turnout was pretty moderate, and in a way, Freddy felt bad for the Epic Band, and he silently thought to himself how utterly stupid the tour name was. Soon, all were admitted and seated, and within twenty minutes the band arrived on the stage, engendering a light applause with some whistles.

It was obvious to everyone in the place that Plexadonn had a love for the grandiose. His ability to attract the most extravagant of performers quite blatant, and he celebrated their company quite happily, introducing them all before the music started. On stage was an assortment of seven musicians, several of which were the most colorful and extravagant of critters Freddy had ever seen with his own eyes.

Plexadonn himself was queer and abnormal simply by himself, and he had chosen to adorn the band with two reptilian players (the drummer and one of two keyboardists) of bright blue - one of which had glowing eyes and the other a bright canary yellow frontal side. Aside from them, the other extraordinary creature was their bass player, a feline of sorts with green fur, highlighted with blue stripes. After these three, the others were normal and commonplace, as far as their appearances; however, the pianist looked fairly extravagant as well, being a very young girl costumed in a bright, glittering dress of deep blue and wearing knee-high, leather boots, along with a bandana and numerous bracelets and necklaces. Lastly, the second guitarist (the first being Plexy himself) was a black panther with long, red hair; and the second keyboardist a handsome feline with curly hair.

It was only now that Freddy was paying more attention to the stage that he noticed the very front row. It was cleared of the normal pews of wooden seats, replaced by larger chairs and a sofa. There were seated a myriad of beings, close friends of the musicians, but most conspicuous amongst them was a large, white ursine. He was about the same size as Ned, that Freddy could ascertain, and he immediately pointed him out to Ned, claiming how cute he was just like his own lover. Ned then smiled and stated that the bear's name was Hasukawa and was Plexadonn's life partner. Freddy thought it was quite ironic that he had at one time many weeks ago felt that he had a connection with the musician, and now learned they both had boyfriends of the same species.

On they played, a show lasting two hours, consisting mostly of new material that was co-written with several of the other musicians. Freddy, unfortunately, did not particularly care for the newer style and its songs, being a much bigger fan of the Dreetle's old, electronic suites. While the music itself was not as greatly appreciated by him, he was not disappointed in the slightest and Ned seemed to love it tremendously.

When the show concluded, the musicians disappeared, likewise the majority of the audience. Those who lingered stayed in a separate chamber reserved for a small amount of merchandise. Some of the Epic Band stayed behind for autographs for photographs. Freddy decided that he would not bother buying a copy of the new album, nor any of the merchandise, much to Ned's dismay. The bear was curious and afraid that he had just forced Freddy into something that only turned out to be a major disappointment.

But the human earnestly explained that it was not so. He tried his best to explain his feelings for the music and why he did not particularly like it, but only managed to confound his lover and merely babbled about something that he soon lost interest in trying to explain. They settled for purchasing a poster for each of them and quit the building, heading back towards the hotel, moving slowly along the sidewalks under the pleasant warmth of an unadulterated sun.

In contrast to the proficient obscurity and inclemency of the weather patterns in Borel, here in Aurthurs there already presided a much friendlier weatherly disposition. While the rain and snow of Ertethia were pleasant forces of nature, they had a tendency to grow boring, in a sense, to someone who felt close to the nature world, the planet, as Freddy occasionally did.

He understood that constant sunshine would get wearisome as well; he still enjoyed the feeling of the hot light and the warmth of the air around them for the time being. Truly, he did appreciate all forms of weather, in them bestowing certain characteristics to the planet in terms of energy. As is taught in Psionic history, certain forms of weather either dispelled or preserved vast amounts of planetary and sentient energy, the latter being the auras that mortal beings held.

From what he remembered, as nonsensical as it may sound, rain was the 'cathartic' force, cleaning away turbulence (which was defined as any fashion of emotional change in disposition, not strictly a negative concept) in mortals' souls: depression, misery, sadness, hate and regret were the major sets of emotions that constantly needed cleaning. Snowfall was the force that preserves and perpetuates emotions, all those mentioned previously, but also along with joy and happiness. Last, sunshine is that which promotes feelings, encourages emotions of all sorts, and thus increases turbulence.

Knowing very well that most of these miraculous phenomena were now inhibited so vastly to the point of being completely unobtrusive in mortal life, Freddy did not linger on the ideals of such things - as did those beings inhabiting the Dens - but he was increasingly curious.

Aside from the metaphysical interpretations and manifestations of these forces, Freddy withstood a strange understanding of the symbolic nature of them. He remembered that now with the Chaos War over and the subsequent annihilation of any further psionic involvement, the phenomena of weather was supported by many philosophers as representing sentient nature: falling in love, creating grudges or feuds, even things such as a birth and death, both literal and psychological.

As interesting as the notions were, however, any more random pondering on Freddy's part would cause him to slip into a moody gloom. Simply with those thoughts, there arrived that absurd feeling of contrition and regret. With Ned in sight, the tall, white bear striding happily along by his side, the feeling was strangely amplified. There was intense fear inundating him suddenly, the human could feel it growing and strangling him quickly - mentally - and in effect, the glorious daystar seemed to grow dim.

It was as if the dust that Freddy had previously discarded was now falling like snow, blocking out the light of the daystar, once yellowish-red, now grey. Like the snowfall of preservation bestowed on those who retained stagnant feelings and emotion, he was being encased in that fear... eternally... the apprehension and misery would soon be the embodiment of paranoia.

Freddy had such a limited perception of all the motions of the world; through his foggy vision and dilapidated cognition, he was unsure of what had happened to him. He awoke from the incredible reverie to Ned shouting his name and shaking the human's body vigorously. Each mention of his name seemed to sort his mind right more and more; with each murmur his sight became clearer. Ned eventually appeared, fuzzier than he normally was. And the existence of his bear helped to create a shield, a catharsis that aided in his weakened ability to battle that terror...

When he did finally awaken, he had a tremendous headache, which he was sure was result of the effects of his psychological battle. And now there was present in his body a strained ache... no, that was from the hangover - a drinking repercussion - and the massive fornication in which he participated the night previous. Each sensation returned to his perception, slowly. First the chemical ache, dim though it was, then the physical tenderness: it was caused by the bear himself, the male holding onto him.

With a cataclysmic wreck, the shades and of gloom and misery came crashing down, the memory and realization of Ned and his existence bringing a luminescence to his fate, now colliding with the doom and devastating it beyond repair. He looked upward, now knowing that he was sitting on his rump, the bear's face shadowing his own, the dual dark countenances viewing each other with mutual perplexity.

"What the hell happened, are you all right?" Ned asked, accompanied by an elderly human female, looking as puzzled and worried as he was.

"I don't know." Freddy said, not sounding any sign of sickness or weariness, just utter confusion.

"It might have been the sun, he might be dehydrated." Spoke the woman again. She had blond hair, thin and hanging in short tresses down both sides of her face, her body thin as well and brittle-looking, clad in a blue dress with a white over-shirt. His immediate memory was of the pianist with the blue dress. Ned reminded him of the other white bear, Plexadonn's mate.

Yes, he was Freddy Patterson, and he had a white ursine lover, just like the Dreetle. His memory was intact, along with his cognition. Freddy tried to stand and groaned with the effort, but truly found himself to be quite capable of staying awake and healthy now. But although he was cognizant of his location and all his memories seemed to be solid, his current thoughts were a cacophonous mess. When the first bout of paranoia had struck, many days ago, it had been apparently been caused by those musings of eternal misery and such things. They had slowly taken over him, and recognizing it he was able to fight them to the death.

But during this latest occurrence, he had not fabricated any of those miserable feelings, actually had not even briefly considered his own sadness; merely had recognized his own spirit, had associated them with the disintegrating knowledge of psionic teachings, pondered the Universe. Why had this new concept developed?

"Uh... I think it's just his hangover. We had a lot to drink last night and he didn't eat much this morning. He's kinda stubborn." Ned explained this to the lady, who had noticed the semi-conscious young man being jostled by the boorish bear, attempting to reawaken him.

"Yep," she nodded, "That will do it. You make sure he get's home and gets something to eat, drink some water and get some rest."

Ned began to direct Freddy walking, leading them both back to the hotel as the woman moved in the opposite direction, toward the auditorium. Freddy could stand perfectly well and was not disoriented, and he informed Ned of this, saying he was fine and didn't need help. In fact, his lover's considerate behavior was quite unnecessary and only proved to be annoying.

"Freddy, you don't have to be a so damn mean about it. I was just trying to help, you practically passed out over there."

The human immediately apologized and said he would talk about it later, when they got back to their room. But he never did. Freddy never again mentioned the episode of syncope and delirium. During the following and last day of their visit - in which they had the same sort of entertainment the previous days - the subject went unchecked. The next time that Ned himself introduced the subject again was on their return drive to Borel. Freddy said that he wished to think about it some more before saying anything, that he wished to analyze it further, which only drove Ned's concern into frustration.

That he might have some medical condition that needs immediate attending to was his primary argument, but Freddy persisted in his assurance he was fine, that it was probably a side effect of his long term Calm usage. But this was ridiculous, as Ned, due to his study of the drug, knew very well it was highly unlikely, and Freddy from his medical education and occasional application on patients knew the same.

He then betrayed his own soul and love for Ned by machinating a story that he had also taken a bit of Cold a few days before, and proceeded to berate Ned with scientific jargon, exaggerating certain biological processes to justify how his delirium could have happened. He feigned a sudden insight and claimed that he was very stupid for not having discovered it prior to his fit.

Ned remained silent, not totally convinced this time and now quite obviously suspicious of Freddy's deceit. But he did not attribute it to malicious intent, only to poor character traits. Freddy was very evidently the sort of person who would rather conjure dishonestly than to cause anyone close to him anxiety. In effect, Ned felt that Freddy was mostly lying to himself and being afflictive to his own mentality.

He would not press the issue any further though. With luck, Freddy would deign to confide in him and confess the truth. Whatever had caused the lapse of consciousness might have been of no consequence, only some effect of another, larger problem. For the remainder of the trip, Freddy avoided thinking about those concepts as best he could, sufficing to linger on the show they had seen, and of the splendid sights and memories of their vacation in Aurthurs.

~^'^'^~?~^'^'^~ Day 34

Their return to work came as an inevitable detachment. With Ned back to his mechanical operations and Freddy in the hospital having to deal with miffed old woman and hypochondriacs, the lovers had felt increasingly separated. However, this corporeal partition had only separated their bodies and prevented them from mingling. A new obstacle had presented itself, now, manifested in dishonestly with Freddy's stealthy concealments of his own, personal miseries.

Ned felt extraordinarily impeded. In the routines of daily existence, Ned could now recognize those colossal substances and concepts that broke him into separation anxiety. It was as if his obligation to his workplace had metamorphosed into only a thing that sought to keep him away from his human. Each individual he came in contact with seemed to silently mock him for it, stating with their divine auras that all felt pleasure in seeing him squirm thusly.

School was very similar, yet a bit merciful in its relentless showcase of the impossibilities. There, he could see Freddy and spend a small amount of time in his company. Yet still, they were under the pressure of obligations, needing to keep to their schedules and studies, minding themselves constantly to their utter fury. His only desire was to be in contact, to hold his lover closely, to sleep with him and feel his circulation beneath the flesh, share in the warmth of his spirit.

But Ned was able to see past all of this excessive infatuation and notice it for simply that. Truly, Freddy himself could be considered a destructive obstacle, disrupting a comfortable and delicate structure that Ned had created for himself: his life, his existence and his tentative goals in life. Still, if Freddy was indeed an obstruction of sorts, he was obviously proving to be a beneficial one. Freddy would only compliment his animus in life's unremitting voyage, not merely aiding in the promotion of happiness and a positive viewpoint.

Any ideal or planetary body of such an illuminating character could not possibly be obtrusive or impeding. It was a positive quality, and that his sorrow and loneliness resulted from the prolonged absence of that idea... that person who was Freddy... only explained that he needed to find a way to be with him more often instead of wondering why he felt this way.

First, he considered proposing that they construct a plan to live together. Second would be to have their schedules at work changed that would allow them unobstructed proximity. Thus, during one of their times together, Ned decided it was a good occasion to mention these possibilities, and was sure that he would praise them as excellent in order to sound convincing.

This visit saw Ned housed within Freddy's habitat once again. After the salutations and inevitable affections, they had deliberated on an activity they would both enjoy. Freddy suggested they watch the concert video the ursine had forced him to receive back in Aurthurs. Ned agreed, and the two watched the video on a screen inside Freddy's bedroom with the males resting on the human's mattress. He had the sheets washed several days previous, and had dusted down all the pieces of furniture in the place, along with opening the curtains spread across his window.

Soon after entering and settling in with a few drinks shared between the two, Ned had noticed a major difference in Freddy's preferred climate control. Much unlike his own house, which he and Mercedie kept relatively cold, Freddy never used the air conditioning system, and substituted it with a small, mechanical fan. He explained that its usage came mostly when it was too hot for him and simply needed air flow; but seeing as how the thing was never turned off it became a necessary ambience to his place.

Freddy made an exception for Ned and turned on the air system, which expelled more dust through its vents than air for the first minute or so. Freddy did not seem to really notice how much of a difference it made in the apartment, and said he would turn it back off as soon as he remembered to, only after the bear's departure.

The sound emanating from the screen was quiet, the music being ambient and surreal in it, and it mirrored the relaxing nature of their company. Freddy lay stretched out on his front side, propping his head in order to see the screen, his legs under the gentle touch of Ned who was applying his soft paws across the human's tired legs. Softly beaming down on them was a dim incandescence, sifting through the clouds ahead in the sky and through the slightly foggy window of Freddy's bedroom.

The intense heat from outside in the world introduced an invincible lethargy to the couple, and once stationed comfortably upon the bed, they could find no energy to do otherwise. So thus they rested, Freddy sighing happily at the feel of Ned's paws and claws tickling along his naked legs - the human being dressed in only a pair of shorts, the same as his bear - and up across the terrain of his backside.

Sensations of pleasure and tranquility governed them for this day; the dreariness of work and school now floated invisible in the far corners of the ocean that made their conscious selves. For the human, the only thing in existence was the music, a blurry and unfocused vision of musicians, and the invigoration of a male's hands caressing him lovingly. It had been an hour now, not that Freddy was aware of time in the slightest.

Ned was enjoying himself completely too. He watched with a smile as the human quivered with involuntary excitement with each caress that spanned across his corpus, going from his buttocks to the heels of his feet. Each journey of the claws up and down his body made the human gasp with delight and sigh, as content with his lover as anyone could possibly be.

They continued to rest in such a state for almost another hour, listening to the music and only barely paying attention to the video. Ned changed his methods then, completely losing interest in the video displayed on the screen, for one that required more intimate contact. Simply stated, he replaced his hands and claws with his lips and teeth. Doing the same as before, he now softly kissed his lover's skin, moving less than an inch each time he traveled farther up towards the rump...

Freddy audibly moaned with ecstasy once Ned finally bit down, ever so gently, and began to softly nibble at the supple flesh of his lover's backside, and continue doing so along the entire, agonizingly delightful trek down to his feet again. It tickled horrendously and gave him to a fit of shivers and chuckles that he had never felt before in his life. His fingers gripped the sheet and his toes gripped nothing but air, the human trying his best to keep the invigoration within his body.

"I love being tickled." Freddy said, twisting his torso in order to gain a look into his bear's face, whose toothy grin amused him. "Your prickly face hair makes it awesome."

"You actually -like- being tickled?" Ned asked, his interest escalated tremendously.

"Yes, especially on my belly and feet." He grinned, his eyes squinted a bit; the facial expression warmed Ned's soul and for several moments he could only gaze into that face, into the eyes of his human lover, feeling joyously that his love was returned just as severely.

The bear chuckled playfully and then started his next move. Repositioning himself further from headboard and closer to his lover, he pulled up on one of Freddy's legs, bending it at the knee and proceeded to bestow on him a pleasure that had only moments ago been confessed. Freddy had a strong suspicion of what was about to happen, and he allowed it, trusting that his lover that Ned would be kind to him. Ned began idly tickling his claws along the sole of Freddy's left foot, keeping his momentum slow and the pressure light for the time being. Like the kissing and caressing along his thighs and backside had done, Freddy let himself absorb the radiant aura of his lover's intentions and allow himself to doze lazily, staring at the screen the entire time.

He would have fallen asleep soon, and after about five minutes of it, Ned realized this. Removing his hand, he replaced it with his tongue and began to slowly lick the stretched foot, from heel to the toes, leaving his saliva behind to cool in the air. It really did awaken the human from his daydreams and he looked backwards once again and giggled, pleased with the unexpected attention.

Ned continued slurping up along the soles of Freddy's feet, occasionally nibbling on the heel or the soft pads of flesh below the toes. It made the human feel less sleepy, and he was able to pay attention to the nuzzling strictly, forgetting about the screen and letting himself drown in the euphoria produced from such fondling. He clung to the bed sheet with his face pressed against the edge of the mattress, gripping tightly and clenching his muscles, flexing and stretching his feet and spreading his toes in conjunction with Ned's tongue and lips.

Like the sweet caresses he had felt earlier, this sort of treatment had been completely unrecognized by his past boyfriends. Freddy loathed the memory of his previous love interests and felt disgusted that such erotic pleasures could spawn their recollection, but he could not help remember how insufficient they truly had been. The things that Ned did for him, all the minute and intriguing sexual aptitudes, had been ostracized by those former men. Such as the sweet and erotic way Ned feasted on Freddy's backside with his tongue, and the erogenous attention he paid to his skin with the caresses, even his kisses... all those things were only intrusions and obstacles towards the path to basic intercourse.

All the possibilities of lust and eroticism, the small and invigorating pleasures that intensified passion, had been void in his life, and left his sexual experience in total want. His only practice was in sodomy, which of course he loved immensely, but the deprivation of intimacy and gentility had left him with total concupiscence. Ned remedied all of this and did so excessively, which was very slowly creating a new archetypical foundation for what Freddy considered necessary for a relationship: he needed someone with a tongue just like Ned's own, it seemed.

That he had never had the pleasure of being treated as such before, this first instance of such enveloped him completely. It intoxicated him and his senses fueled his aura which became inflamed with sexual arousal - likewise fueling his groin with sexual readiness - strangely; this in a manner was more invigorating than deep genital stimulation. Freddy was delighted and completely content for sustaining the fondling of his feet and sucking of his toes, but it seemed that Ned had set his goals to something else, now.

The bear let Freddy's feet fall back to the bed and repositioned himself again where he crouched above the human's body and gently stripped the male of his shorts, being careful not to hurt his swollen erection with tugging to hard on its confines. Freddy felt his foot cooling in the air where Ned's spit was evaporating, and although the area felt lonely and now utterly abandoned, his posterior was receiving the attention instead of the appendages. Ned had once again been aroused by the human's thick aroma, the sort that accumulated when he was warm in bed or engrossed with something sensual.

It had overtaken the bear's actions, and he was deeply slurping between Freddy's buttocks once again, lapping viciously at the male's hot anus and pushing apart his legs. Intercourse ensued, which Freddy suspected would happen to his delight, but was surprised by Ned's change of style. Instead of the normal savage beating he gave his lover, the penetration and subsequent motions applied with his thrusting and heaving was incredibly relaxed and mellow. And exactly as the stimulus of Ned's tongue and teeth on his feet had given him, the torturously slow and luxurious lust put him a trance as deep as all his hidden thoughts of misery and contrition that floated in the ocean of his soul.

~^'^'^~?~^'^'^~

Ned had indeed introduced the topics to his friend. After their workout for the day, Freddy found himself in another quandary with the suggestions that that Ned had so willingly played out. There was the possibility of living together, either here or in Ned's house, maybe, or someplace different. Then arrived the idea of altering their schedules to accommodate their desire to be in each other's company more often.

The decision seemed effortless to make, but when Ned told him to think about it for the night (at least this one night), that it was more complicated that he originally considered, Freddy became less than enthused. Ned had left soon after their visit, not even able to spend the night again for having a previous obligation with another friend of his - whom he had been neglecting - and was sure Freddy would understand. The choice seemed easy, but with Ned's apparent warning, he felt anxious about it.

Predictably, Freddy grew melancholy after the departure and the contiguous pondering of the aforementioned comments; he decided to drown his worries with wine. Pouring the scarlet fluid into a small, transparent glass, he sipped it down completely in five minutes during which time he contemplated the idea of living with his bear.

There did not seem to be much of a problem. He was more than willing to forsake his current, typical living conventions in favor of learning a new method and lifestyle, as long as it included the bear. He understood that he would not have the option of eternal solitude or the exclusive privacy, which were the main concepts that he had grown accustomed to and which he prized the most above the others.

He wanted something stronger, less sweet than wine, so he changed the consumption to a clear, bitter tonic that he drank straight. But what if the terrible occurrence of their incompatibility where to overwhelm them, Freddy wondered? Ah, yes, this was a major dilemma that he had encountered numerous times, with those same non-intimate lovers of his past, and always resulted in awkward dislikes, and in many cases a grudge that grew to hatred.

But the blame for such behavior lied with them, not Freddy, and he had convinced himself of that. He drank on, taking shots then moving to diluting the spirits with soda water in a larger glass. Within the apartment resided a fluent darkness, Freddy wanting sleep now and not bothering to turn on any lights when after the sun had set. Thus, in all of his drinking and deliberating, he did so in the dark.

Yes, Freddy had since his earliest days of youth when discovering his affinity for other males developed the mentality that he would be as flexible as possible in accepting others. Their flaws, their weaknesses and incredulities, all the miserable shortcomings that he hated in people, he learned from those early days that focusing on these would only lead to wrath and desire to harm the other person or persons. He would not refuse to live with Ned because of the possible miscommunications, but would do so for the benefits of his love and for all the little things he liked about the bear.

In crept an uncontrollable emotion of misery. No, it was not misery; it was a -trepidation- that spelled the certainty of misery. The fear that all events in life, in the suggestions made prior to his mild intoxication, were on a path spiraling downward into a maelstrom of insanity that he had never yet once fathomed.

That was a lie, a calumniation of his withering sanity and grasp on rational life and memory. There was a time many weeks ago that he had precipitated into such a netherworld, so unlike the dreary pall of shadows now flooding his abode since the setting sun, so much stronger and more suffocating. The idea of Ned impeding on his life and encasing him in the bear's own life, strangling from Freddy his goals and intentions until he puked upon the mantle of his own existence, leaving behind only a vague trail of memories that would only be trod upon by others following to do the same.

Whichever of those ideas had engendered the fusion of fright and anger inside his mind, Freddy could not ascertain for the time being. Nor could he recall the precious times when he had managed to reach with quivering and bloodied hands for the rim of the land and pull himself from this quagmire of loneliness and darkness; nothing would stop him from descending now, back into those frozen tornadoes...

But he realized quickly that the tornadoes were not approaching. And still... he remained still, not drowsy or bewildered, only cold and alone. Unlike his experience with the overdose of Cold, he was not completely engulfed in torment now. In actuality, there was no presiding sensation of guilt here or longing for death. All the perceptions of death and his willingness to accept the fate of everlasting vertigo, however, remained paramount in this outstanding apprehension.

A sound from outside, beyond the walls of his place, at the door slowly creaking open to reveal a doom so unworthy of him, it approached. No, it was just his imagination. The sound was a thunderclap that startled him, the rain beating against the door and the window there. No one was entering to destroy him. It was only raining now, and his abode's innards were briefly illuminated by quiet flashes of lightning from the sky. Yet the man stood there waiting, very certain that there was a presence approaching fast, come to do something.

Freddy stood motionless, the only source of light damaging the shadows was leading from the screen - still turned on - within his bedroom. His body could not move, he could still feel though, his feet were standing there naked on the carpet, and he was sweating now. Across his face came a gust of wind, composed of cosmological air, an energy brought forth to him by Death itself. It encircled him, before he had any possibility of protest, and the creatures of malice sprang for to greet him. He shivered once, finally loosened from the grip of an evil reverie via corporeal tremors, and he could see now there was nothing there except the energy ensconcing him, pushing him.

He did not understand, what in the Universe was conspiring against him? And a mere thought came: what did he ever do that would incur these frequent, kismet punishments from the embodiment of existence? There was nothing! Not one thing that would deserve this sort of torment. Yes, and with that mere thought, the majority of this vast, flowering gloom vanished. Freddy was barely able to recognize his outstanding and relative innocence.

Like the dust of his dying memories - the dense forest of his past continually haunting him - it fell away with an understanding of his own security. That he did not deserve Evil in his life, and most certainly did not want such a damnable thing. The ideals echoed across his aura and rebounded doubly into his psyche, explaining further that his newest endeavor, the love of Ned, was an even more magnanimous in nature, and thus expelling more of the intemperate foreboding.

It was moments later, minutes perhaps, when Freddy realized he was crouching, resting on all fours upon the floor, and was immensely vertiginous. He tried in vain to recapture the feeling of gratitude and delight at the existence of Ned and of the effects the bear had upon him, but such a feat only drove the dizziness further. He would have to approach slowly. But truly he did not want to and was terrified of reliving the experience.

Freddy spent the following hour meditating on the single subject of tornadoes. He imagined the energy of the Universe and of Kologa embodied in a whirlwind: a white spinning vortex. On this phantom monster he concentrated, sitting on his mattress with his back pressed against the wall, hoping the cold structure on his naked torso would help him feel better. But even in that time he never fully banished the trepidation, the guilt. Oh god, the guilt was overwhelming him.

There clung to his brain like an undying parasite a flowing emotion of remorse; and although he understood it was completely hollow, he could not rid himself of it. After an additional half hour of thought processes, Freddy considered himself poisoned. It was the only explanation, agreeing with himself that there was nothing psychological about it. There groped in his mind a feeling that had no rights being present there, and that it must be caused by some other chemical.

With the idea of a chemical reaction, a poisoning possibly, he considered the possibility of clouding it with others. During his latest encounter with the horrifying premonition of an apocalyptic nature, he remembered that when the "frozen tornadoes" returned to kill him, as they did in his Cold overdose, he was quickly exempt from the pain of guilt. As if some supernatural irony, one form of hallucination that emulated another combated a different hallucination to protect him from their combined effects of misery.

The decision was made with severe reservations. As a student of medicine and with a moderate knowledge of pathology and pharmacology, he understood that risks were involved in the immediate procedure. Freddy could die from this, from the poisons within him rejecting the Cold and killing him in its attempts to reclaim its home.

Eerie. The notion of death slipped back into his conscious thoughts. Not death from the medical perspective, but as a repose... a peaceful and desirable solution to the agony of mortal life. If he were to continue living as such, being inundated randomly by hallucinatory images of utter, relentless chaos and a sorrow that stemmed from the planet in its full form of hatred, then death would be a welcome pardon.

It was too dark now to see properly, the screen not helping enough in its slight bit of illumination; it glowed softly with white light. But he was too exhausted to turn on the overhead lamp, and the idea of having any more light scared him. In his surroundings resumed the silence of night, and behind the walls and ceiling there was no sound at all. In his conquest of Death, Kologa was taciturn, indifferent. There was no other idea in his resolution, and he would not accept any arguments; he prepared the needle and took the regular dose as best he could.

Several seconds elapsed in which he believed there was ice literally flowing through his veins and into his heart. It hurt slightly, which is something that he did not remember from his previous usage; when he first had taken Cold, it simply put him out... of course, he had overdosed: it was different. Yet it stung his cardiovascular organ for only a second before the chemical reactions in his brain compensated for it by numbing his extremities and inhibiting the production of body heat... what was that again? Which biological process caused that comfortable heat?

It was gone though, completely gone. His body began to grow cold and his eyes grew a visceral effluvium, the haze spreading across his mind as it seemed to do in the static air of ice around him. It was so cold, so unbelievably cold, and his body would not be able to live through it! The sensation of a soft mattress underneath his body was of little comfort, for it was just as frozen as his heart and brain.

Arrived the cold, frozen air... exactly as before, and it quickly encompassed him in all the dimensions of the metaphysical realm. And now stuck in this purgatory, he could cling only to the cavern surrounding him. Jutting forth from crags in the floor and walls, he propelled himself through the illusion, searching immediately for any source of heat. The surrounding ice doubled the light, at least, letting the soft glow spread throughout its crystalline structure and bathe him in its pathetic being.

Their presence was not in his recollection for the time being, and he did not remember that Cold was intended for transcendentalist purposes, so he did not recall what William, Pete and his brother said... what was his name? The ugly dogs, they could rot in hell for all he cared. They persisted only in raping the planet with their filthy souls, their dirty auras always contaminating those of the bodies around them. Yet he was not thinking of those animals, he was recalling the collective existence of cretins, those who caused pain upon others, and the wretched souls that betrayed their own living by spreading their equal torment just the same.

He hated them, wished them to perish in the void of oblivion. Their energies would not even be needed to help recycle the planet, it would only poison the core and spread toxin to all living things and curse newborn babes with stinking malice and spite.

The fury exploding from his mind spilt likewise from his mouth, though not produced in the eloquence that his mind portrayed. He groaned miserably and incoherently, his body slumped against the plain wall of pale white, his head lurched forward and eyes unfocused. Sounds within his head invigorated him, but all was truly silent, there were no fluttering cascades of icy wind and rainwater.

That downpour was filled with the putrid energy of malice though. Like those brethren canines, like the man who raped a woman, or the mother who abused her child, or any single traitor who murdered a living being, suffocating the soul of the departed victim. Freddy's hallucinatory wrath burned inside of him, flames of a hateful and purifying nature engulfed him entirely now, astoundingly contradicting the Cold and ... oh ...

Freddy moaned in agony as it burned his chest dramatically and suddenly the creeping, destructive paranoia slid into his soul, striking his heart like heinous lightning. It was here! Finally here! Freddy could see it now, and could hear the rustling of the leaves upon which it walked, could sense the foul odor and taste the hurtful aura it emitted in his direction.

But it did not come from the cavern, no, he saw perfectly well that he was in his bedroom, in Borel, in south Ertethia. But none of this mattered, he was in a frozen wasteland, and the demonic spirit of his astronomical sins was now incarnated, finally here to bring him to hell and make him pay for every single peccadillo. The fear was intense, he was paralyzed, and his entire body was numb except for his bleeding heart and shattering mind.

From the doorway it came, sliding slowly from the hallway that was bursting with the telltale electricity. A monster, his eyes grew even wider and he perspired more heavily, a bodily response to the devastating terror squeezing his energy and trying to extinguish it. Yes, a beast, some hideous thing approached. Its appendages were tentacles of some sort, or where those its horrible hands?

It was quivering... yes, tentacles appeared, attached to its obese and sliding body.

A complete abomination to sanity! It cried out terribly from open, jagged mouths grown into its lower body, that mass of flesh and tendrils reaching for its victim but too far back yet to be capable of destruction. The voices cried, from those horrible mouths on the surface of its body, children in pain, mothers being torn asunder, the planet detonating from the star going nova. Freddy watched in agony and in horror as the face appeared. There it truly stared at him, a triplet of eyes upon its face, the head attached to a torso that stuck out crudely from the gelatinous mass, a slug... an octopus, creature of some kind.

It's voice was still brutal; sharp, piecing cries of lamentation and agony whispered from the lips on its abdomen... its mass. The arms stretched out, filthy fingers ending in extended claws and other, indiscernible, sharp protrusions. The beast continued to approach, gliding by some horrific means underneath it that Freddy could not, would not understand. Along with it steam arrived, cold and viscous, that clung to his skin like his sweat and penetrated him deeper than the paralytic dread that defined his existence.

The monster spoke words, human words: a language he might understand. But he could hardly risk trying to hear it; he had to defend himself somehow! But he could not, and it approached, slithering up to him so slowly that it seemed to never leave the damn door. It would kill him; it would torture him so violently that he would die from the pain and shock. Or... could this thing be God? A Demon! Inside the twisting hurricane of ice lived the creature... dear god, he knew of this thing somewhere.

Freddy shrieked. He screamed wildly in the night, calling out for assistance that would never come to save him from a world that did not exist, from a creature that was not there.

~^'^'^~?~^'^'^~

To be continued...