Spoiler:
1 March 2007
If I recall correctly, it was a cloudy day.
Let’s continue. My name is Tau. Yeah, you probably don’t know me. You don’t need to...what I’m about to tell you is something that happened to me. You probably don’t care, yet the last few years have been troubled ones...night after night thinking about how she would do such things with me. I still feel the heat of that moment in my heart, the countless nights full of pleasure and...I don’t think she loves me, nonetheless.
Don’t look at me with that face. I know love is a complicated thing. But one day she’s there, giving you all her affection, and the next you’re replaced by a stupid bird. You see, I don’t find anything arousing about owls; how could she leave me for that bird thingy? So he can breathe fire! I doubt he can provide the love only I could!
***
Birds soared overhead, ignoring the mists about them without worry, fear, or even anything approaching curiosity. The clouds above the paved road were heavy with moisture, and for a time I was certain it would rain upon the paved stones of the town road, and, of course, myself, but it seemed like they were biding their time. Waiting for something to happen to release their gentle drops to the ground. Something important.
After coming to this rather philosophical conclusion, I returned my attention to the road stretching before me. The path itself was flanked by two wheat farms, their crops making any observation beyond the golden stalks difficult, if not impossible. You see, I’m a traveler. An explorer, if you will. A connoisseur of exquisite sights and foods, of beautiful women, and, in some occasions, handsome men. I consider myself a bisexual, yes, but it’s very rare that I find occasion to indulge in my fetish.
At this very moment I was hiking the distance between Port Offtopic and a town quaintly named ‘Area 52’ by the residents and everyone who referred to it in hushed voices laced with fear, and sometimes disdain. “They’re all grozers there,” was the word of mouth, but yet against all the warnings and crude references to the place, I, Keon Skyfire, had decided to venture forth and view what the locale had to offer. Vodka first. I walked through into the town with my thumbs jammed in my pockets, looking for a tavern. As I walked, though, I noticed a few things.
The corners were far more shadowy than they had any right to be, for one thing. And the light? There wasn’t nearly enough. Suspicious kinds of people popped into view as I walked, studying my movements as if trying to discern my intent. As I stepped into a bar, my field of vision instantaneously shifted to the attending girl. She was a very beautiful and jovial asian girl, with long, dark hair falling to her waist. As I studied her, she looked at me with a sheepish smile.
“She is kinda cute actually... let’s see if the night can give me a good score,” I thought. Indeed, she was very kind and as my mind went through the delicious images of her, I wandered off in my own thoughts. Until suddenly, she approached me.
“Can I get you something?” She asked me, eyes shining like emeralds on her petite face. I stared into those eyes for what seemed like an eternity, until she finally asked me again. “Sir? Can I get you anything? We have a large selection of fine ales.”
I shook off my momentary lapse of thought and returned her smile. “Hey sweetie, I’d like a Sasicaia 1968, please.”
As she stooped down to gather my request from the shelves located beneath the wooden desk, I couldn’t help but think “She has a really nice butt, mmmmmm....” I guess she heard my little “mmm...” because she looked up at me quizzically.
***
Now, I’m an engineer. That means I solve problems. Not problems like “what is love” because that would fall into your conundrums of philosophy. I mean practical problems, like how to fix the utterly fucked up tube of piping sitting in front of me. I scratched my feathered head for what seemed like the twentieth time in that hour alone, and tried turning the pipe over in my wings again.
It should have been simple, really. Just nothing more than a bunch of smelted iron pressed into something resembling a hollow cylinder that just happened to have a little too much gunk in it...normally my job would just consist of removing the pipe from it’s compatriots and sticking in something to remove the obstruction, but that procedure didn’t exactly apply to scenarios in which said gunk was composed of discarded live bullets.
No, the company insisted that the utmost care be taken when messing with ammunition, and to avoid it completely where possible. You’re probably thinking this is due to my employer having the utmost concerns for worker safety, and if that’s the case, pardon my rudeness, you’re probably some bloody naive right foot idealist. No, it’s more about my insurance. Mess with bullets > miss out on coverage, which doesn’t exactly leave me in an ideal spot should one of these decide to explode.
I sighed, my beak clacking in annoyance as I once again failed to find a way to dislodge the buildup without my favored method of ‘stick with long pointy thing’. I was an engineer, dammit, I solve problems, not give up when a previous solution fails out of the blue. My lack of creativity got to me, and I finally threw the confounded thing to the concrete ground in anguish.
The young feline woman, her name was CatsvsNinjas, if I recall, hovering behind me gasped, and I offered her no explanation as I stomped out the door, stripping off my uniform and suddenly forced him to fall at the ground. Her fur rippled in surprise but her face reflecting signs of pleasure at my touch as I slid my wing over her bare back.
“You and me are going to have some fun, partner,” I whispered to him.
***
The sheets beneath me were laden with sweat as I held them in a death grip, the beads of liquid finding their way through my fur and onto the fabric as the owl beside me dueled with the controller, his gaze glued to the TV before the two of us.
“C’mon,” he exclaimed as he shifted right and left, as if to augment the actions being carried out by his talons in that weird grip he maintained on it.
Of course, I was too enthralled by the game itself to point out that little detail might be part of the reason he was apparently losing. It was a very high-end title with utterly stunning, vivid graphics. Sonic R. The greatest game on the SEGA brand ‘Best of..’ disc.
My secret lover snorted in disgust as yet another one of his computer-controlled opponents superseded him in the struggle to take the lead on the race course. I patted ACH on the shoulder absentmindedly, as if to comfort him in the newfound knowledge of his impending defeat.
“Freaking Knuckles.” He murmured as he laid the controller rest on the carpet, near the stack of discarded video game cases, and slumped back into the sofa.
As he did so, I slid over a bit and draped my arm across his back. “You can’t win any of them at all,” I cooed, “listen to mama Vinyl.”
Kyyriil crossed his wings in mock frustration. “You said I could, though. What are we supposed to do, then?” He whined.
“I’m sure there are ways to pass the time.” I said mischievously.
If I recall correctly, it was a cloudy day.
Let’s continue. My name is Tau. Yeah, you probably don’t know me. You don’t need to...what I’m about to tell you is something that happened to me. You probably don’t care, yet the last few years have been troubled ones...night after night thinking about how she would do such things with me. I still feel the heat of that moment in my heart, the countless nights full of pleasure and...I don’t think she loves me, nonetheless.
Don’t look at me with that face. I know love is a complicated thing. But one day she’s there, giving you all her affection, and the next you’re replaced by a stupid bird. You see, I don’t find anything arousing about owls; how could she leave me for that bird thingy? So he can breathe fire! I doubt he can provide the love only I could!
Birds soared overhead, ignoring the mists about them without worry, fear, or even anything approaching curiosity. The clouds above the paved road were heavy with moisture, and for a time I was certain it would rain upon the paved stones of the town road, and, of course, myself, but it seemed like they were biding their time. Waiting for something to happen to release their gentle drops to the ground. Something important.
After coming to this rather philosophical conclusion, I returned my attention to the road stretching before me. The path itself was flanked by two wheat farms, their crops making any observation beyond the golden stalks difficult, if not impossible. You see, I’m a traveler. An explorer, if you will. A connoisseur of exquisite sights and foods, of beautiful women, and, in some occasions, handsome men. I consider myself a bisexual, yes, but it’s very rare that I find occasion to indulge in my fetish.
At this very moment I was hiking the distance between Port Offtopic and a town quaintly named ‘Area 52’ by the residents and everyone who referred to it in hushed voices laced with fear, and sometimes disdain. “They’re all grozers there,” was the word of mouth, but yet against all the warnings and crude references to the place, I, Keon Skyfire, had decided to venture forth and view what the locale had to offer. Vodka first. I walked through into the town with my thumbs jammed in my pockets, looking for a tavern. As I walked, though, I noticed a few things.
The corners were far more shadowy than they had any right to be, for one thing. And the light? There wasn’t nearly enough. Suspicious kinds of people popped into view as I walked, studying my movements as if trying to discern my intent. As I stepped into a bar, my field of vision instantaneously shifted to the attending girl. She was a very beautiful and jovial asian girl, with long, dark hair falling to her waist. As I studied her, she looked at me with a sheepish smile.
“She is kinda cute actually... let’s see if the night can give me a good score,” I thought. Indeed, she was very kind and as my mind went through the delicious images of her, I wandered off in my own thoughts. Until suddenly, she approached me.
“Can I get you something?” She asked me, eyes shining like emeralds on her petite face. I stared into those eyes for what seemed like an eternity, until she finally asked me again. “Sir? Can I get you anything? We have a large selection of fine ales.”
I shook off my momentary lapse of thought and returned her smile. “Hey sweetie, I’d like a Sasicaia 1968, please.”
As she stooped down to gather my request from the shelves located beneath the wooden desk, I couldn’t help but think “She has a really nice butt, mmmmmm....” I guess she heard my little “mmm...” because she looked up at me quizzically.
Now, I’m an engineer. That means I solve problems. Not problems like “what is love” because that would fall into your conundrums of philosophy. I mean practical problems, like how to fix the utterly fucked up tube of piping sitting in front of me. I scratched my feathered head for what seemed like the twentieth time in that hour alone, and tried turning the pipe over in my wings again.
It should have been simple, really. Just nothing more than a bunch of smelted iron pressed into something resembling a hollow cylinder that just happened to have a little too much gunk in it...normally my job would just consist of removing the pipe from it’s compatriots and sticking in something to remove the obstruction, but that procedure didn’t exactly apply to scenarios in which said gunk was composed of discarded live bullets.
No, the company insisted that the utmost care be taken when messing with ammunition, and to avoid it completely where possible. You’re probably thinking this is due to my employer having the utmost concerns for worker safety, and if that’s the case, pardon my rudeness, you’re probably some bloody naive right foot idealist. No, it’s more about my insurance. Mess with bullets > miss out on coverage, which doesn’t exactly leave me in an ideal spot should one of these decide to explode.
I sighed, my beak clacking in annoyance as I once again failed to find a way to dislodge the buildup without my favored method of ‘stick with long pointy thing’. I was an engineer, dammit, I solve problems, not give up when a previous solution fails out of the blue. My lack of creativity got to me, and I finally threw the confounded thing to the concrete ground in anguish.
The young feline woman, her name was CatsvsNinjas, if I recall, hovering behind me gasped, and I offered her no explanation as I stomped out the door, stripping off my uniform and suddenly forced him to fall at the ground. Her fur rippled in surprise but her face reflecting signs of pleasure at my touch as I slid my wing over her bare back.
“You and me are going to have some fun, partner,” I whispered to him.
The sheets beneath me were laden with sweat as I held them in a death grip, the beads of liquid finding their way through my fur and onto the fabric as the owl beside me dueled with the controller, his gaze glued to the TV before the two of us.
“C’mon,” he exclaimed as he shifted right and left, as if to augment the actions being carried out by his talons in that weird grip he maintained on it.
Of course, I was too enthralled by the game itself to point out that little detail might be part of the reason he was apparently losing. It was a very high-end title with utterly stunning, vivid graphics. Sonic R. The greatest game on the SEGA brand ‘Best of..’ disc.
My secret lover snorted in disgust as yet another one of his computer-controlled opponents superseded him in the struggle to take the lead on the race course. I patted ACH on the shoulder absentmindedly, as if to comfort him in the newfound knowledge of his impending defeat.
“Freaking Knuckles.” He murmured as he laid the controller rest on the carpet, near the stack of discarded video game cases, and slumped back into the sofa.
As he did so, I slid over a bit and draped my arm across his back. “You can’t win any of them at all,” I cooed, “listen to mama Vinyl.”
Kyyriil crossed his wings in mock frustration. “You said I could, though. What are we supposed to do, then?” He whined.
“I’m sure there are ways to pass the time.” I said mischievously.
Spoiler:
She sighed as I manipulated the rolls of fur, gripping muscles and massaging them from my place behind where she sat in a wooden chair. I had been a masseuse in another life, my wings providing agile appendages for which to rub and twist where necessary. It was clear the feline before me was benefiting more than me, but it was a relaxing exercise to feel one’s hands move in calculated, precise motions. Much more so than figuring out how to dislodge bullets from a god forsaken pipe.
Granted, some adjustments had to be made to my technique. Normally, I had to alter bearings ever so slightly to avoid bras and other articles of clothing on a customer’s chest, but the Catian wore none. Technically, the feline wasn’t actually wearing anything, despite her possessing the same modesties one would expect on a human female, albeit somewhat concealed by fur. In light of this, I made no attempt to avoid them as my wings danced about her torso.
“I take it this will cost extra?” She moaned as I kneaded her chest.
I chuckled, despite myself. “Naw, this is good for my concentration. It’s on the house.”
Yet, as I massaged Cats, I was also letting my thoughts drift to the veritable conundrum but a few feet away. Two foot long iron pipe. Bullets. How to make the two mutually exclusive?
Maybe the answer was in front of me...
“Say, do you think you could do me a favor?”
“Mmm?”
I leaned over and grabbed the pipe, then brought it up so that the tip hovered beneath her mouth, the bottom length of the cylinder inadvertently coming to a rest amidst her bosom.
“Basically, spit in this.”
It could work. With sufficient lubrication the obstruction should merely slip out, particularly if the corrosive properties of Catian saliva were more than just rumor.
“Will I get a reward?” she asked cheekily.
“I dunno babe, I could stick around a little longer.” I replied as I squeezed her forearm.
“Ahhh....... That feels good...”
***
I looked about frantically. Where had my beautiful girl gone?
Then, from the other side of the bar, came a gruff voice.
“If you’re looking for that chick, mate, she’s gone off with a dumb looking bird.”
You get some odd customers in the bar, but this dude was seriously strange. He hardly fit in the building, the massive red wings he possessed sprouting from his scaly back and almost touching the roof.
He was a dragon. A very large one, at that. In the seat next to him was a human girl, seemingly trying to get him to stuff a wing down her top.
I stared open-mouthed at the scene, but mentally cursed my misfortune at losing the nicest girl I’ve ever met.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Certainly! He just grabbed her, started to undo her space suit, and ran off!”
My heart sank. My beautiful girl would never have been able to resist someone carrying her off to a bed. The temptation was just too great.
A moment later, I was distracted by the appearance of a male pole-dancer on the hitherto empty stage. He was a very strange individual, and was wearing nothing but a very small pair of boxer shorts. He grabbed the pole and began to push his body against it, moaning loudly.
It was absolutely disgusting, yet somehow endearing, despite the fact that I had never seen such an objectively disturbing thing in my whole life. Several people were shouting “Cats! Cats!” at the tops of their voices.
At that moment, a small yet very intelligent looking aye-aye ran onto the stage. He was clutching a bag of white powder, which he dangled before the ostensible dancer, like a carrot in front of a donkey. Almost immediately, the feline leaped off the pole and leaped at the bag, which was passed to a bouncer, who in turn ran off back-stage. The drug dealer looked apologetically at the people around the bar, then began to shout at the top of his voice.
“Bliss! Bagged Bliss available here!”
The only person who took him up on his offer was a ragged-looking tramp, whom the dealer greeted as “Joykler”. He was a very decrepit looking character, with a tinfoil hat firmly fastened to his head of graying black hair. In a fashion suggesting the transaction had consumed the last of his money, he sped out the door, looking fearfully around in case anyone had noticed him.
Everybody had.
Before the hobo apparent could even reach the aperture leading out of the tavern, a bulky Israeli man with a worn beret bearing the insignia of the IDF gathered him up in his massive biceps and proceeded to shout at his face in another language.
The man meekly responded in turn, but it didn’t calm down the man. If anything, more anger spread over his features and I began to see ‘joykler’ gasp for breath, his wheezes growing more desperate as the soldier-apparent squeezed harder and harder.
No one looked surprised. Evidently, Joykler’s confrontations with the Israeli were a common occurrence.
I began to panic. How could I cope with all that was happening to me?
Just then, the melancholy tones of a wonderful song began to sound throughout the building. It was the Dust Bowl by Mumford and sons. The tune re-invigorated me and a resolve began to spread around me to find the monster who had stolen my girl - and to bring her back.
***
Meanwhile, another man was facing a similar conundrum, if not in a completely different sense. As I maneuvered the paved sidewalks of my hometown of Port Offtopic, I had but one desire. To see Vinyl again, even if it meant coming together as friends rather than lovers. The nameplate issued by my job and currently pinned on my chest bore the name, ‘Tau’, but I did not feel as if I were the personality attached to that word. I was leaving my policing duties for the second time ever.
Granted, some adjustments had to be made to my technique. Normally, I had to alter bearings ever so slightly to avoid bras and other articles of clothing on a customer’s chest, but the Catian wore none. Technically, the feline wasn’t actually wearing anything, despite her possessing the same modesties one would expect on a human female, albeit somewhat concealed by fur. In light of this, I made no attempt to avoid them as my wings danced about her torso.
“I take it this will cost extra?” She moaned as I kneaded her chest.
I chuckled, despite myself. “Naw, this is good for my concentration. It’s on the house.”
Yet, as I massaged Cats, I was also letting my thoughts drift to the veritable conundrum but a few feet away. Two foot long iron pipe. Bullets. How to make the two mutually exclusive?
Maybe the answer was in front of me...
“Say, do you think you could do me a favor?”
“Mmm?”
I leaned over and grabbed the pipe, then brought it up so that the tip hovered beneath her mouth, the bottom length of the cylinder inadvertently coming to a rest amidst her bosom.
“Basically, spit in this.”
It could work. With sufficient lubrication the obstruction should merely slip out, particularly if the corrosive properties of Catian saliva were more than just rumor.
“Will I get a reward?” she asked cheekily.
“I dunno babe, I could stick around a little longer.” I replied as I squeezed her forearm.
“Ahhh....... That feels good...”
I looked about frantically. Where had my beautiful girl gone?
Then, from the other side of the bar, came a gruff voice.
“If you’re looking for that chick, mate, she’s gone off with a dumb looking bird.”
You get some odd customers in the bar, but this dude was seriously strange. He hardly fit in the building, the massive red wings he possessed sprouting from his scaly back and almost touching the roof.
He was a dragon. A very large one, at that. In the seat next to him was a human girl, seemingly trying to get him to stuff a wing down her top.
I stared open-mouthed at the scene, but mentally cursed my misfortune at losing the nicest girl I’ve ever met.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Certainly! He just grabbed her, started to undo her space suit, and ran off!”
My heart sank. My beautiful girl would never have been able to resist someone carrying her off to a bed. The temptation was just too great.
A moment later, I was distracted by the appearance of a male pole-dancer on the hitherto empty stage. He was a very strange individual, and was wearing nothing but a very small pair of boxer shorts. He grabbed the pole and began to push his body against it, moaning loudly.
It was absolutely disgusting, yet somehow endearing, despite the fact that I had never seen such an objectively disturbing thing in my whole life. Several people were shouting “Cats! Cats!” at the tops of their voices.
At that moment, a small yet very intelligent looking aye-aye ran onto the stage. He was clutching a bag of white powder, which he dangled before the ostensible dancer, like a carrot in front of a donkey. Almost immediately, the feline leaped off the pole and leaped at the bag, which was passed to a bouncer, who in turn ran off back-stage. The drug dealer looked apologetically at the people around the bar, then began to shout at the top of his voice.
“Bliss! Bagged Bliss available here!”
The only person who took him up on his offer was a ragged-looking tramp, whom the dealer greeted as “Joykler”. He was a very decrepit looking character, with a tinfoil hat firmly fastened to his head of graying black hair. In a fashion suggesting the transaction had consumed the last of his money, he sped out the door, looking fearfully around in case anyone had noticed him.
Everybody had.
Before the hobo apparent could even reach the aperture leading out of the tavern, a bulky Israeli man with a worn beret bearing the insignia of the IDF gathered him up in his massive biceps and proceeded to shout at his face in another language.
The man meekly responded in turn, but it didn’t calm down the man. If anything, more anger spread over his features and I began to see ‘joykler’ gasp for breath, his wheezes growing more desperate as the soldier-apparent squeezed harder and harder.
No one looked surprised. Evidently, Joykler’s confrontations with the Israeli were a common occurrence.
I began to panic. How could I cope with all that was happening to me?
Just then, the melancholy tones of a wonderful song began to sound throughout the building. It was the Dust Bowl by Mumford and sons. The tune re-invigorated me and a resolve began to spread around me to find the monster who had stolen my girl - and to bring her back.
Meanwhile, another man was facing a similar conundrum, if not in a completely different sense. As I maneuvered the paved sidewalks of my hometown of Port Offtopic, I had but one desire. To see Vinyl again, even if it meant coming together as friends rather than lovers. The nameplate issued by my job and currently pinned on my chest bore the name, ‘Tau’, but I did not feel as if I were the personality attached to that word. I was leaving my policing duties for the second time ever.
[/spoiler]
