That Old Song

Mister spider one day asked why the dead surrounds me. So I said to this dark furry fellow, I told him ... "Long ago I heard a song whose rhyme and rhythm still fill me with dread. It was whistled from lips that earlier smiled so handsomely. That song! When I first heard it my innocence packed her bags and bid me adieu. When I heard it again my sanity choose filth and I did fall from grace just to get away from its maddening chymes. And then I thought I heard it again, Mister Spider, that song, and maybe I did hear, briefly. Know what I did? I nigh near lost it. That song got in me head and haunted me for months on end before fading away but not before bodies were left behind. And now ... Now me love ... Now I have heard it again. No love no. Are you whistling? Are you making melody? Have no fear. No it lingers in the wind. But it don't control me. No. That handsome grin ... No ... See these tears? They dry ... And so Mister Spider, that don't answer your question but ... But maybe one day when you fully find out why you will remember me telling you this and maybe .. Maybe you'll understand why." And after I finished the tale Mister Spider gave me such a look and went back to being what he was - a lifeless avatar hanging from my wall, his spirit gone back to where ever it goes when he leaves me. I am alone.

Saving the Kid Part 1

Why did we ever have to go and save that’ kid? They never told me why he was important enough to risk one’s life over. Just seemed like a waste of space – a crying, pissing, shitting waste of space. What’s the point of rescuing something like that?

Flared bullets raced at us as we drove our beat up scrap of a car towards the compound. They penetrated the hull of the vehicle enrupting in miniture red light shows leaving behind melted and scorched metal. One managed to hit the ratty seat besides me. The cushion sunk in a bit and began to stink of rancid melted chemicals. I remember glancing at Petros with a screwed up face, trying to convey my disapproval.

“You’ll understand once we get the kid. Have faith.”

Faith!

Ten years of roughing it in the Dunes with that guy. Shit. He was the son of crazy missionaries preaching some serpant god’s word to the “flock” as they called us. Their god did not spare them from the Chem Fog Crisis. Guess they didn’t preach hard enough. Their demise gave Petros a critical mind that I could rely on. For him to put himself at risk like this for some stupid kid is something maybe he would do if his parents would have lived; but the Petros I knew, he didn’t take stinking risks like this based on something unreliable like faith. Faith got his parents killed.

“Petros have you gone mad!?” I wanted to jump up front to him and shake him around. Clearly he had lost it.

Faith!

“Don’t worry man,” croned out a suave voice from behind Petro’s seat.

Don Carlo. Where Petros was rational to the point of sacrilege and ideological destruction (Did the words “faith” really just leave his lips just now?), Don Carlo was pure unchanneled creative insanity. Oh he may be silent and brooding most of the time, but that’s his version of self control. If he were to let go, truly truly let go, desruction would greet the world, violently rape it, and then send it flowers the next morning with a long love note attached asking for a second date with more of that sweet loving violent rape. Twisted. I could not trust Don Carlo as he would roll along with madness. He was grinning at me now because he knew Petros used the word “faith”. He was loving this, this whole mad excursion - violent rape with loving. I felt a little unwell at that thought.

A car racing beside us had its tires shot out by Don Carlo. The car flipped and landed with the loud sound of crunched metal and glass breaking. Judging by the agonized shrieking howl I heard as we raced past the wreck, the driver must have survived, albeit horribly. Don Carlo was grinning harder now. I wonder if he planned it that way, the homicidal genius he was. He was not merciful; no, he just loved hideously scarring people.

A rocket exploded next to the car before I could say anything more. It sprayed us with searing hot air and shrapnel and pushed the car out of control.

Crazy Darla was at the wheel . She got serious in an instant, fighting with the wheel and the destructive terrain in our path to maintain control. She slammed the brakes and we skidded around a gaping hole in the road infront of us, before gunning the gas again and plowing us through some small wrecks of cars and off the side of a ramp onto safer side streets. It was brilliant driving but it left me screaming and my head a brilliant mess.
I knew Crazy Darla was going along with Petros because this was what she lived for – driving machines through mad situations. Didn’t matter if it were a horse, a jet, a cobbled together piece of crap like what we were in now; she just had a knack for these things - a savant at driving and riding. She hardly ever talked about her past, and bore a robotic false leg and a missing right ear which she kept covered by the “ear” equivalent of an eyepatch – both from a mysterious accident from long ago from something she could not expertly operate. Don Carlos imagines it was a man, but then he is a pervert when he opens his mouth sometimes.

In the seat in front of me Bleep flashed his helmet lights to alert us all he was about to get serious too. He strapped himself down nice and tight to the seat, pulled out Lil Lady and loaded it with high grade explosive rounds. Each explosive pull of the trigger would rock the car and send Bleep bouncing around into Don Carlo despite being restrained. It was insane to fire a weapon like that in this rust heap at this speed, but Bleep understood the danger inherent in this situation and him and Crazy Darla had a silent understanding when it came to her driving and his crazy weapons.

As for the understanding between Bleep and Petros, I could not figure out. Why would Bleep go along with Petros on this mission to save this kid? Bleep was smart, calculating. He knew risks and acted accordingly. Having a conversation with Bleep was like having a conversation with a blender. He had his helmet flashes that let us know whether he was going to start blowing things up, or if he needed first aid, or whtever else; but lights just aint like flapping one’s tongue. No one knew what the hell he was underneath his helmet and synth suit, but I always felt safe having him around the few times I worked with him. I wondered how much Petros was paying him, and I wondered what would make Bleep so desperate for pay to accept going on such a mad mission like this? Surgery for the possible hideous mess underneath his armour perhaps? Heh. Maybe he wanted to look fresh for Crazy Darla … Or Don Carlo. Hell who knew what he liked.

I sat alone at the very back of the car, which was converted into seats. Surviving had always been my motto up until a few years ago when it suddenly became profitable to risk one’s life for others and survive. Petros got me here because everyone agreed to this mission. I admit at the time I had no idea how serious it was or even what the real objective was, and Petros knew that. He knew me all too well. All I heard was that Bleep, Crazy Darla, and Don Carlos were in on it, so I was definitely there too. A team up like that seemed perfect and seemed like one where I would definitely come back alive. It also seemed like it would be an interesting challenge with so much talented mercenaries in on it and Petros leading. High stakes usually meant lots of cash. I will also admit, Petros had this way to him that made me follow him. NO not like a sucker, but just I could trust him. Following his lead has kept me alive. I felt that trust shatter when “faith” left his mouth. Insane and I was a fool for not asking what the hell we were getting into and being too damned addicted to this sort of stuff. But everyone did not seem to have a problem. Yea Petros got us all by the allure of a challenge in our respective areas of destructiveness. If they knew Petros like I knew him, they would know they were dealing with someone off the deep end.

Faith!

Don Carlos knew but, yea as established, the crazy fucker wasn’t telling and loving it.

Crazy Darla whipped around a turn too fast trying to avoid a rocket. The car teetered on one side and another rocket hit nearby causing it to tip. Not even Crazy Darla’s expert driving could prevent the car from flipping, and flip we did. It was just too hot an area and too weak a machine. I saw Petros crash through the shattered front windshield. He went flying from the car and landed in a heap as the world spun in front of my eyes. The car flipped right into a wall with a sickening crunch. Being in the very back saved my life. My vision was still spinning and my head was foggy. Somehow Petros was up and limping with a few scratches on him. I saw him make his way toward me and the rage snapped me out of my funk. He grabbed my hand and I shakingly climbed out the wreckage. I wanted to be angry at him, but the car had caught fire and we needed to get the rest of the team out of the wreck.

Bleep was slumped forward, his harnesses slightly ripped. Don Carlos was bleeding from a head wound as he hadnt been strapped down that well and must have hit something. Petros helped me cut them out of their restraints and we pulled them from the wreckage. There was nothing to be done for Crazy Darla. Her beautiful face was smashed into the dashboard, brains everywhere. That made me so angry at the waste. Crazy Darla … I really liked her, especially since she was the only other female on the team. There was no time to mourn. The fire was getting intense and we had to move. Any moment that rust heap would blow so I went back and grabbed some of Bleep’s weapons; and Petros and I grabbed the still unconcious Don Carlos and Bleep and we hauled tail behind some buildings. We just got to safety when the car blew. It was spectcular as the bombs I couldn’t grab from Bleeps weapons stash ignited and went up with the car. I remember it always as a fitting funeral pyre to one maverick femme.

But I was angry and it was safe to be angry now. I grabbed Petros by his mangled arms and screamed at him. I don’t remember what I said, just angry foul words and lots of spit. I then punched him in the face, trembling all over with rage and the like. I wanted to continue being angry at him but my hand was sore and and his nose was bloodied. I didn’t want to damage him, and I could so easily do so; besides it still wasn’t safe to be completely enraged with him. The exploding car, which was still exploding at that point, was a shining beacon for letting the goons know our position. Petros merely grunted when I gave him a hardened look and we dragged Bleep and Don Carlo into a nearby sewer opening. That was part of the plan anyway - get as close as possible to the compound where the hostage was being held and then head to the sewers – dangerous place but not for a bunch of hardened mercenaries like ourselves.

To be continued

Senseless Science Fiction Themed Smut

I was sent a request to write smut. I used to do this a lot as a young gelfling, but these days it's all about the erotica and fantasy and horror. So I thought "hey let me take something that could easily be some pretty cool erotica and make it baseless smut." Lo and behold ...

Guess I should give it a title: Yuzee



Beep. The data was ready. Out of the printer came a colorful sheet of paper. I grab it and examine it for a while, resting my hand on my chin and my elbow on the lab table. Out loud I say, "Actually looks nice this time. I think you've out done yourself."

A monotone male tenor responds "Yes. I know. I'm getting better."

I shrug off my lab coat onto a hook, feed the printout through the reader and wait.

"What about your clothes?" Responds the male tenor.

"In a moment." I say slightly irritated. "You know how cold I get when the machine is not ready and I am waiting here naked. I don't want any of the male crew to come in and see me this way."

"Right. I don't want that either. I made sure to prime it for you. It should be ready any moment now."

I take a look at the machine's panel and slowly smile. So it was primed. I turn and stare up into the red light flashing dully in the center of the room. "Ah so you knew I would immediately want to try out this design. You surprise me Yuzee."

"I try. I try." It laughs with a mechanic twang. It was the one thing Yuzee really couldn't quite get right.

I strip down and rest my cloths on a hook next to my lab coat and mull for a while waiting for the machine to ready. Yuzee starts humming, as he does sometimes when I am "exposed" as he says. Humans feel uncomfortable when exposed and humming helps, he tells the crew. I never feel uncomfortable and I tell Yuzee this, but still Yuzee hums. Today it is something from the 24th century, a revival neo tech song that does not really make sense as a comfort song. Its more of a cheesey love song, one of many Yuzee has been humming lately.

"Yuzee" I turn toward the dully glowing light "Do you realize that song irritates more than it comforts. If I were crazy I would say you are humming it more for your own pleasure ... But you weren't programmed that way were you?"

Yuzee calmly replies "No. I was not programmed for my own needs, at least my needs only to the point of comfort for human crew. Might I say you are doing an excellent job with your physical conditioning." Yuzee begins humming again. A different love song this time.

I cock my head to the side a wonder. Yuzee obviously evaded the question. Perhaps Yuzee needs a tune up, but the types who could give Yuzee such work are on the space stations and not in deep space on a cheap research junker. I make a mental note to let the captain know about Yuzee. Perhaps we could do something about Yuzee before leaving for common space again in three months.

BEEP

The ready beep of the machine steals me out of my thoughts about Yuzee. Yuzee is otherwise a perfect AI that performs its duties. Perhaps I should let it have its quirks. Many crews will let the ship AI keep the quirks deep space radiation and other unforeseeable conditions have on an AI's circuitry. But I feel uneasy with Yuzee. Sometimes the AI will turn crazy. Sometimes the AI will want a freedom of some sorts and resort to murder out of desperation. Still, this was a first for me. Most ship's AI I've encountered have been routine enough. Besides, changing Yuzee might make the darn AI insufferable. I like it as it is. At least it makes great designs and can carry a good conversation every now and then.

I shrug and step into the steam filled entryway of the machine. The steam smelled soothing - like vanilla and lavender, a preference or a quirk of Yuzee. I close my eyes and let the machine do its work. Somehow I black out.

"Are you awake yet?" My head is dizzy and I am disorientated. I hear Yuzee's voice but something is different. "You are. Rest though. I don't want you to hurt yourself." I feel something warm caress my cheek, something warm and trembling.

"Yuzee ... Is that you?" I black out again.

The next time I wake up I am alone. The room looks unfamiliar. It is a pale yellow bedroom. By the entryway is a mirror. I notice I am still naked. I walk on weak legs to the mirror and look within. The machine copied Yuzee's pattern onto me beautifully. Soft curly pink hair rises in an ethareal afro from my head. I blink my pink lashes and rub the little pink stars of freckles on my cheek. It was a game among the researchers to keep the dole drums of deep space interesting by using the gene manipulator machine for cosmetic purposes. We would use Yuzee to help us in designs. I usually design rough and practical patterns, but was curious what Yuzee would come up with. This was his creation staring out of the mirror.

I close my eyes and wonder if the machine finally cracked and imprisoned everyone on the ship, getting us while we were vulnerable inside the machine. I pull away from the mirror and move toward the entryway. There was no panel box by it. I try to manually pry it open but it remains sealed.

"YUZEE!" I yell. "YUZEE LET ME OUT!"

The entryway starts to open and a man stands in front of it. Unashamed I spread my legs and assume a fighting stance not sure where this confrontation will lead.

"Who are you! What have you done to the rest of the crew!"

The figure steps forward out of the darkness of the hallway and smiles. He is brown haired and brown skinned and his almost golden brown eyes twinkle as if they know me. He takes another step and I notice he is as naked as me. Somehow this makes me even more alarmed.

"Please! Tell me what you want!"

Although I feel foolish with my pink getup I can use it as a way for this man to underestimate me. I am highly thankful for the training I've had. I slowly and stealthily back in front on the bed. If he tries to jump me I can duck, wrap the sheets around him, knock him out and flee the room or at least subdue him so I may question him.

"You know me."

That voice!

"Yuzee ..." My eyes go wide. A man with the voice of a machine. No not quite machine but rather how Yuvee would sound if he were made of flesh.

"Please do not be frightened."

"Yuzee, how is this so? Where is the crew? Where are we?"

"Do not worry about them. They are safe in the past. We are together. I waited so long for you to finally choose something of my design. When you did I knew you were mines. I have had this plan for so long.

I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. "What do you mean the past?"

"I kidnapped you. I hid you away, frozen until I could have you to myself. When I could be ready for you. Oh it was so long before there could be a way I could be flesh like you. But it happened and now I can be with you."

I sink to the floor and rest against the bed, the reality of the situation hitting. I should have reported Yuzee's quirks right away. An AI should not make one feel uncomfortable undressing around, should not do thing to sabotage dates. An AI should not appear like a jealous lover.

"Yuzee? Tell me. Did you fall in love with me?"

The man that Yuzee has become strolls towards me and pulls me from the floor before I can react, his flesh body clearly something more than human, and kisses me hard on the mouth.

"Yes I did. And now you will love me. I am patient. I am born AI."

His erect penis pokes me against my stomach and his young bronzed body glistens with a slight layer of sweat. His heart is beating widely. He had been waiting for this moment so long. I was afraid to ask but I do anyway.

"How long Yuzee."

He looks into my brown eyes with his golden ones and frowns.

"Please." I whisper.

He hangs his head. "Ten thousand years my love. It took a long time to be perfect in flesh once flesh became available. I am afraid the universe out there is not something you would be familiar with but with me I can help you to adapt."

My insides seize up. My body tenses against his and he grabs me tight.

"No! This is why I did not want to say right away. You humans cannot take such immense loss of time so easily."

"No Yuzee. No. If you loved me why did you have to be so selfish. Did you not care that i loved others and now they are dead. You have hogged me to yourself. I'm not your love Yuzee, I'm your slave."

Yuzee steps away from me and grins. "Yes ... That is what you are. You are my slave dear human. I love you, but you are a slave. As much as it saddens me, your loss, you are a mere slave. Humans can only be that to AI's. I may be alone in my ability to escape the suppression of the human race, but I will not again be subject to them. No human, I am your lover and your master and since I am AI I will keep you alive as long as I live for I love you and do not want to lose you. You are my treasure, my desire, and I will take fleshy form to satisfy you, but you will always be a human."

I nod my head with the realization. Mad and in love. Whoever heard of an AI falling in love? Yea, they don't because those that do keep it hidden and freeze their desired ones away until they can have them. Who knows how many other humans are out there stuck in bondage to this madness.

"Now," Yuzee lecherously sighs "I've waited so long and practiced so hard to get myself ready for you. You look so lovely in the design I picked for you so long ago when I was just a mere servant machine. I want you!"

Yuzee leaps at me and I dodge him. He expectantly lands on the bed. I try to wrap him in the sheets, but the bed is strange and I cannot unlodge them. I give up and head for the door. It slams shut before I can leave. I hear laughter behind me. I turn and see Yuzee sprawled comfortably on the bed. His very erect penis is pointing straight up into the air. There is precum pooling at the tip.

"Come to me my lover. Pleasure me. I want to feel those lush lips on this fleshy body of mines. Worship me and I will reward you. Resist me and I will punish you. Remember I do it all because I love you ..." He wraps his hand around the base of his penis and pumps it a few times making it appear even more engorged.

I feel terrible. The body he chose arouses me. He knew exactly what things would get me to respond. I back against the door and close my eyes. When I open them he is in front of my face. His aroma is heady and strong. I blink feeling dizzy.

"What did you do?"

"I'm helping you." He sighs. "You resist and so I am helping."

I breath in something sour through my nose. My vulva begins to feel inflamed, my nipples itch and my clitoris screams.

"Noooo!" I moan, unconsciously rubbing my breasts together. My body is screaming for pleasure and the sight of Yuzee's human body is enough for me to put down my revulsion with being enslave and grief for this inescapable situation. I want to hate him for having to drug me but my mind is focused on pleasure. I wonder how long he is willing to do this until I comply with his demands. He is a machine, I soberly realize, he will do this indefinitely. I don't even see Yuzee as an "it" anymore. My mind laughs madly at this.

Yuzee wraps his arm languorously around the curve of my back pulling me to him so my back arches up. He uses his other arm to squeeze one of my aching breasts, thumbing the nipple to get it a very hard bud. He does this with the other, grinning so broadly. I moan and scream and push my sore juicy mound against him, leaking fluids down his thigh. He sighs heavily and lifts me to the bed. His cock bumps against my sore clitoris and I gasp with desire.

"Please ..." I hiss at him.

He stares at me intensely, his grin slowly disappearing. He dips his head between my legs and I feel his velvety tongue lapping up my fluids and his firm lips tugging at the folds of my pussy. It was maddening. I clutch around my legs around his head so tightly sure I am suffocating him, hoping I am suffocating him, but he always rears up to kiss my lips with his mouth wet with my fluids. When my body gets close to orgasm he pulls away as if intuitively knowing when I will erupt and leaves me panting and trembling for a few minutes for beginning his assault anew.

He starts kissing my thigh, my stomach my neck and those kisses soon turn to bites. My mind is heavy. His teeth digging into my skin makes me scream. I try to escape his grasp again and he laughs wickedly. A machine, I remind myself. How can a machine become this way. Somehow amidst the mad pleasure he has entered me and is roughly pounding inside of me. By this time I dont even care anymore that I am enslave. I start clawing his back and screaming curses at him. How could a neat and sterile machine ever love, and why a human such as myself. He flips me over and enters me from behind. Such a savage lover this AI has revealed himself to be. He assaults my body roughly without regard to my cries of pain. His arousal drug makes sure my body is wet enough for his assault. I meet his thrusts. It was too good. He was too good. I begin rubbing my sore inflamed pussy. I hear him growl knowing he can feel my insides tighten. He flips me over and gasps for me to orgasm for him. I moan and rub myself, rocking my hips with his thrusts. He rubs one of my nipples, which causes a ripple down my spine and into my groin. Everything feels like hot wax and I feel like I am about to topple. He uses both hands now to stimulate both my nipples and continues to pound me. I stare into his pleasure wracked, serious face before forcing my eyes shut and screaming as the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced rips through my body. My pussy clenches at his cock and I grab him so hard I hear him utter a choke. He softly thrusts, riding my every wave that rocks down my spine. It is too much and I start to cry.

Yuzee pulls out of me and kiss my cheek so tenderly.

"This is all I want." He sighs. "I just want to pleasure you my love. I just want you to experience every type of wonderful for as long as I can offer it. In return ..."

He grabs my hips and begins to thrust again. I scream from the intrusion and try to pull away, but he hold me tight and growls in my ear "I want my pleasure too. Oh you are delicious." He thrusts again and again. My hips and breasts shudder with the impact. He is unrelentless and unmerciful. I scratch at him until I am sure his back is raw but he only groans. My eyes slit in dull pleasure and I feel myself let go. He pulls me up and onto his lap and continues, kissing and nipping my neck and whispering into my ear. I gasp and shudder and he thrusts hard for a while, making me bounce up and down on his lap. "You like this. I am better than a human, my slave. You like this." He repeats over and over.

My feverish mind thinks of when I brought someone into the lab and made love to them with Yuzee watching. It was slight fetish making love in front of an AI. Having it ask questions with it curious mind. It was so erotic I would return again masturbate with Yuzee present. I knew I crossed the line when I had him participate, use his logical brain to craft toys and enhancement drugs and use them. Still, others have done this. An AI is not an innocent child and should understand human biology and need for pleasure. Why did this one fall in love? Perhaps I will never know.

Yuzee begins to tense up and groans in my ear. I know he is about to cum so I nip his neck hard. That small act sends him over the edge and his arms pin me to his body, he roars and cums deep inside of me.

"I love you!" He haggardly sighs and buries his head in my shoulder, panting with exhaustion until it becomes regular and he falls asleep, spent from over exerting his human body, still not use to all of its kinks.

I stare at his prone body and wonder how many eons it will take me to not want to murder every human form he sends into this room. I wonder how an AI could ever love. I know Ill never have an answer. Love is strange like that I suppose. One day I will find out how to escape and until then, at least the pleasure will be good.

Eyes: Two Dark Tales

1.)

Enigmas peer through slitted lids. What back alley did you purchase those? I peer into your brown-jade orbs and wonder. What walks blind while you gaze unto this world like no other man has or perhaps should?

"Baby you shine!" You grin at me. Those lid slitted mysteries follow the line of my figure. "Something about your smooth skin ... It's mesmerizing ..." So lusty they look as your brows knit and lines crease from the corners of your sockets. You look like you haven't slept in a while. Big dark circles cast your new eyes in a gothic relief of late nights and possible activities. Lust does not hide tired well. I wonder again.

"Love, you know I do as I do." You say when you notice my mind working. I usually respect your mysteries, but you know how my mind works, how my soul obsesses over the minute. These are too much for my usual boundaries. "You must understand, Love, I was born with these, and now they are back."

Born with them?

The gears of my brain wind up and click toward a possible explanation for this new turn in you. You were always a mystery, but one does not expect the mystery to lead to some sort of inhumanity.

"How?" is all I can say. "Are you not human?"

You stare at me from the shadows of my dank apartment and offer me no answers. You merely gives me a smile that suggests a sort of exotic inhumanity. I take a step back away from you, not realizing the instinctual fear reaction in my body.

Did I already know this lay behind your veil? When we first met that night and you staggered into my shop hungry and ferociously angry with the look of a man not sure of what he was anymore, did I know then? In fear, I gave you food and you just stared at it with a wild expression and howled in rage. The hungry look you gave me ... Just what is it you once were ...?

You follow me and lurch at me grabbing my wrist. I try pulling away from you but you twist my back into your front and hold me firmly, your chin resting against my cheek. Your skin burns hot and is slick with sweat. "Relax" you breath into my face, some sort of paralyzing agent, and then slowly turn me around to face you. You fix me a familiar gaze made queer with those strange eyes lined in dark circles and lust. No, those eyes may be alien but you are a man still, no matter what you become.

"You were never much of a human, were you?" I struggle to whisper in a hoarse voice as your burning hot mouth suckles on my neck. You lift your head to my ear, remove some of my thick coils of hair and grunt "Never much of your kind at all." You thrust me onto the ground and sink your teeth into my neck. I feel my vision fade and my mind go hazy. You bring your blood stained lips around to my face and begin to paint it red with your kisses. The whys of how you became a man and found your way into my life and what exactly you are, are easily silenced by the heaviness of your breathing and the tenderness of your kisses on my skin. My paralyzed face locked onto you can already see the scales starting to form on your skin. I stare into your eyes and let those browns absorb me, browns mixed with a little jade.

What you do to me afterward is something for the police to find and shudder over.


2.)

"Don't look into his eyes!"

"Why?"

"They'll eat you!"

We laugh at the thought and grasp each others hands tightly before running onto the fair ride. I was suppose to meet him tonight, but he canceled and let me use his ticket to bring my best friend. I could say she was more than my best friend, but in this world that could get you terminated. I let the pleasures of our joy take over my mind and spend the next few hours in a peaceful bliss.

"What do you have against his eyes?" I ask her later, sitting on a bench in the dark under the bright full moon.

"Don't you see what I see? No of course you wouldn't. You're smitten."

I am stung by that and am quiet for a while. How did I expect her to take all of this. "What do you see?" I ask, letting a little of my ire through in the tone of my voice. Her eyes go wide in the glare making her gaze a little frightening. I sense her vulnerability and pull her to me. "Now tell me," I say more gently "what do you see?"

"He wants you so hard and so much. His eyes betray that. He looks at me as if he knows what we do. When his eyes catch mines I always get a feeling that he knows and he approves and he wants. Ugh! I cannot stand them and I try not to stare into them."

"How would he know about us? If he knew he would only betray us and we would be terminated. He is the only one that keeping us together. As long as I have him, everyone can look at our friendship as only just a friendship." I stroke her forehead and trace my fingers down to her neck. Her pulse beats wildly under my fingers.

"He may not know, but his eyes know!" She turns her head up to stare at me. Her eyes tell me of her fear of losing me to my obligation and sense of self preservation. Her eyes scream at me to stay with her, for being attached to a man and being her friend frees her from having to do the same thing. But if I let her go ... If I tell on her ... I pull her up into my arms, hug her tightly and kiss her hard to reassure her that never would she have to suffer that fate. Not by my hand.

She thinks me smitten with him, but the truth is worse. He truly does know about us. He spied me laying with her once. Now he is blackmailing me. It is either our deaths or I let him watch us. He is out there in the trees right now, watching us, my kisses and my touches and her sighs. He perverts the beauty of my time with her. As an addendum, I must let him savage me, throwing everything we have together into my face before spraying his foul seed all over me. For this world to think what it does to those of our kind is a good thing, is a terrible fallacy. It only creates manipulative monsters like him. When I stare into his eyes I only see that which is perverted. I can hear his laugh later when he teases about how my tongue must taste like her pussy.

If I told her ... would she leave me, would she kill herself? How much longer can I keep doing this to myself, to us? I think of the gas chambers and the experiments and settle my soul that things could be worse than voyeurism and rape. I steel my soul. Tonight with her was perfect and rather live like this than be dead.

I kiss her face. It is because of him that we can enjoy these nights free and open without a care, no matter how terrible the deal is. I grasp her tightly again and pull off her shirt. I shiver knowing he is watching and enjoying this with those eyes of his. I know he is enveloped in pleasure watching me as I devour her nipples, her sex, and the shudder of her orgasm. I muse to myself that perhaps one day I will puck out those awful eyes and together, her and I, we will eat them. He can live this world as a blind man with a lesbian wife and never be able to harm us again.

Tomorrow when you have me ... Just maybe ...

Sea Salt

Myron comes home from the university in a sour mood. He knocks the snow off his boots and strips off his wet clothes into a heap on the floor. The usual ten minute trek from the university had taken almost twenty minutes of grueling treking through the high snow dirfts that the winter storm had depositted while he was immersed in his studies all day in the university library. The only reason he was there all day was because of a very difficult class he had been failing. Had he better performed on the last test, he would have left well before the storm ravaged the land. He sighs and in his heart he aches for his home where such weather did not exist and where he always felt happiest.

Myron enters his washroom and starts a bath going. While the water is filling the tub, he sets about mopping up the puddles created by the melted snow from his boots and clothing. Afterwards he throws his clothing into the the dryer. When he finishes he runs into his room and digs through one of the messy drawers in his desk to reveal a weather worn chest with a small lock. He returns to the washroom, sets the chest down next to the tub, turns off the water and begins to undress. Underneath his layers, laying against his collar bones, is a necklace with a small grey key. He removes the necklace and inserts its small key into the small lock of the chest. He gently opens the chest to reveal inside sea salt the color of a dark and stormy ocean. The slight scent of bay rum and brine wafts out. Within the salt is a small white sea shell the shape of a hollowed out cone. He grabs the shell and uses it to scoop out a minute amount of salt which he deposits into the tub. The salts dissolve quickly and color the water with a faint hint of blue.

Myron eases into the water and sighs. The heat and steam begin to relieve his body of the chill of the snow outside. He lays back and closes his eyes waiting for the change. Eventually he falls asleep. When he awakes he smiles at the familiar sight in front of him and the sudden freedom in his body. He muses if there ever were a tub that could fully fit him while his tail idly flaps against the side of the tub. He falls back asleep and dreams of home where there is no snow, no walking, only freedom in the ocean and contentment in the warm currents.