by Cecilia Tan
He lay on the stone as the girl/creature climbed onto him. She straddled his thigh then rested herself upon his chest. She grabbed his manhood from behind and guided it inside of her. Again he felt that wonderful but forbidden sensation. How small, how tight, how wet and hot she was. She started moving her whole body up and down against his.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked.
“Shhhh!” The girl/creature put her finger to his lips to quiet him. Do not question; enjoy.
Again, he felt like he was going to explode immediately, the sensation being beyond any pleasure he experienced before. If this were a dream, surely he’d awaken when he came. In which case he would find her gone—this time for good. Even the soft cooing of the Valkyries could not stop his inevitable orgasm.
“Touch yourself here,” the Valkyrie at the head of the alter spokes to him through his thoughts. She touched his temple in a certain spot. “You won’t wake if you keep the pressure firmly here.” She guided his finger to the same spot. “Put the other hand on the opposite side. I will touch you in these other points, this will maintain your control. Look how she’s enjoying it, you don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”
He kept his orgasm under control for the girl/creature until she spasmed in wild pleasure. He felt the walls of her inner sex contract as waves of immeasurable joy fell upon her. The sensation drove him mad as he felt what she felt through her empathy. He kept his hands on his temple as the Valkyrie had instructed, never letting up the pressure. The girl/creature came hard and fast and he heard her scream for the first time. Then he saw tears of joy running down her cheek.
Although spent for now, she wasn’t finished. She rested her head on his chest for but a moment then continued rocking her body up and down his. Soon he felt her contract her inner walls again and started her way towards a second orgasm. She rode this orgasm too, but just before climaxing, she gently took his hands from his temple and places them onto her breasts. She rode him up and down a few more times, then Father Francis exploded in orgasm inside of her. Along the way, he felt every contraction of his cock as he shot forth his seed filling up every spare cavity of her body.
By then Father Francis was relatively certain he was dreaming again.
But the girl creature and the Valkyries weren’t done with him yet. Touching other pressure points on his head stimulated other points in his brain which made him vital again. The next time around the Valkyries join in with the girl/creature. Father Francis wasn’t sure how their intertwined bodies connected, or even sure which of the creatures he was in. He suspected he was in all three at the same time. Yes, definitely he was dreaming.
Their bodies mixed together in way Father Francis couldn’t follow. He lost track of time and had no way of telling how long they were making love. Then, the two Valkyries and the girl/creature exploded in orgasm at the same time. Again, they radiated their pleasure empathetically to Father Francis. That, along with their tightly contracting organs around his member, was more than he could take. It brought on an orgasm the likes of which he had never experienced before.
The pleasure being greater than any mortal could take, he passed out, or rather, passed from one reality to another. The last thing he sensed before his brain overloaded, was the kiss upon his lip from the girl/creature.
Father Francis woke to find himself clutching his member. Another nocturnal emission. But what a dream it was! He remembered it so vividly. It was so real. He got out of bed ready to wash the semen from his blanket and nightgown when he noticed there was nothing to wash off. There were traces of the ejaculate on his penis and loins, but the bulk of it was gone, as if the girl/creature had accepted it into her when he came.
He noticed that he had awakened in his own bed. He had left the girl/creature use it as usual and he slept on the kitchen floor. He looked around for her. She wasn’t in the kitchen. He walked down the hall to the church. Would he still find her there or would she be gone? By the light of the candle he was holding he couldn’t see her, but he did notice that the front door of the church was left open.
He looked out at the moon as he closed the door. Two winged creatures flew across its face. They were on their way back up to Valhalla. They flapped their wings in unison, each holding onto his little girl/creature by the hand as she dangled between them.
"And What Rough Beast(s)..." by Robert Knippenberg
You’ll have to bear (no pun intended for those of you who are) with me, it’s a lot harder now and I tend to run on and on and on, and get distracted easily (canine traits, and that’s why the parenthetics, all these thoughts like buried bones) and I’ve forgotten things I used to know, sentence stricture, punctiliation, jangling participles, and all that, and it gives me a headache when I concentrate, which I have to if this is going to make any sense, and there’s hardly anyone who even thinks about that stuff anymore so it probably it doesn’t matter much, but I was a writer once and still somehow, somewhere inside it’s important to me, so I’m going to give this a shot before the shots take hold, ha, ha, (deliberate this time, so at least I haven’t lost my sense of humor) and maybe it will be helpful to someone, or at least interesting, if there is someone (some thing?) out there who cares or is interested.
Just so you know, I wasn’t one of the first. It’s never good to be the first for anything, which is a lesson I learned buying one of the first holodecks. Not only was it huge and expensive, but the damn thing would fizz (that’s the only way I can describe it) and drop me out right in the middle of a 3D dream, and for half an hour or so I’d writhe around on the floor, my synapses sparking like damp firecrackers (I haven’t thought of those in years, does anybody remember them?) until my brain settled down and remembered what it was, and whose head I (or it) was inside of.
The dealer was useless of course. The guarantee specifically excluded using it for sex which is the real reason everyone bought one. Even the manufacturer’s support service girl giggled, but then she couldn’t figure out whether it was a badly bubbled gluon chip or buggy software, so I gave up finally, and gave it to an ex-girlfriend.
I warned her (I wasn’t then, and I am not now a complete animal) because I knew she didn’t really have the temperament for it (that’s why she was an “ex”) but she wouldn’t listen (she never did) and it pushed her over the edge, turned her into the slut she never had been but always wanted to be (which was what attracted me to her in the first place) and after about three weeks she had all these guys madly in love with her, and it was the first time in her life, she said (I was helping her move because they were driving her crazy, and I thought to myself, “not counting me,” but didn’t say so, even though I should have, because after we broke up it really hurt for awhile) but now I’m glad because there was the potential there for things to get sticky between us again, and this is a lot more fun.
So after we got everything into her new place, I took it apart and modified it so it was like one of those old fashioned microwaves, (I’m pretty handy that way) and the damn thing made great toast, and chicken wings like you wouldn’t believe, and then we had the best sex we’d ever had, right there on the floor (she had gotten a lot better at it so I felt better knowing the whole thing had been a positive experience) and the reason I’m telling you all this is that it was a lesson for me too, in fact, two or three lessons (in life as well as love) but like a lot of other things by the time these things dawn on me it’s always just a little too late.
So anyway that’s why I waited awhile, gritting my teeth (I still could then) deliberately not paying attention to the tid-bit news media hype, the electro-catalogs blipping open in my face during mail downloads, the door-to-door automatons, but excited too, the way I always get when some really new technology pops up (which used to happen all the time, but probably won’t anymore, which is too bad.)
Then finally, I modemed up a few friends for advice, people I trusted (when people were still people, and we all had friends) and Sheila had already done it.
She loo
ked fantastic floating in the air in front of me (my new holodeck works beautifully when you use it like you’re supposed to) all soft, sleek and furry, with her cute ears tufted and pointy, her tail curling around her neck. She’d had those kind of eyes before, but they were twice as wide and further apart, and her pale blue irises slitted and so was her grin, so I hopped a continental shuttle even though it meant a jammed twenty minute ride with a bunch of mad-as-hatter 200 years olds who’d heard about some pie shop in Canada, because not only was she a knock-out before and pretty hot, but she was actually in heat, and there was no way I could resist her purring invitation.
Well, it turned out to be more than a little embarrassing, not that I blame her mind you, after all it was my own fault for not realizing how much it changed her, but then again it was early on and nobody knew then, and I was fooled because she’d kept her own breasts, and only had two of them, and her face was still her face (well almost, except her nose was very wet, as I soon found out, and her whiskers tickled, but still cute, very cute) and I chased her around the apartment until I caught her (well, actually she let me, she always was kittenish) but then those needle-sharp teeth, and the way her pink tongue felt like a rasp as I kissed her, I decided I better not let her go down on me like she wanted (if anything she was even more oral than before, and I have to admit I was curious about what that split upper lip would feel like) and that’s when she scratched me the first time.
We couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough, and ended up doing it “doggy style” (the only way she can comfortably any more) and although I loved the way she felt (her pussy a pussy twice over, so to speak, clutching at me like none ever had before) and the way she wrapped her tail around me and yowled (estrus not only makes foreplay unnecessary, which I kind of miss, but makes some so enthusiastic it’s damned dangerous) it was kind of a shock to have her clamping down on me, coming about half a dozen times before I did, and even then she wouldn’t let me pull out, which was a little scary (but then later as a Doberman I got to really like this part) so when she finally got up (so to speak, she tended to favor all fours) to get us some milk, “to perk you up,” she meowed (looking at my you know what, so I knew she wasn’t done with me) and “to soothe your scratches,” as soon as she was in the kitchen, I grabbed my pants (or what was left of them, they were pretty shredded) and ran for the door (because she was a lot faster than I was on only two) and got the hell out of there.
Well, that experience made me think real hard about it (her apartment was a mess, piles of smelly litter as you might guess, and she’d lost her job because it was so new back then) but you know how it is, we forget the bad when the good parts are really good, so after awhile (by that time even fruits and vegetables had become possible) I decided I had to at least try it.
My great grandparents had actually had a real live Doberman, one of the last, and I thought of going to visit them like that (they love anything that reminds them of the past) but more than that I liked the idea of being something that strong and powerful and intimidating. I had the credit back then (still do, but don’t know for how much longer if I don’t sell something, another reason I’m writing this) so that’s what I asked for and by that time it was so common they didn’t bat (no offense, those of you who are) an eye.
It took about two weeks for the mutated DNA to do its work completely back then, but right away I loved the way I could run and jump and growl. And then having a tail was a whole other way of communicating (and the women! You wouldn’t believe how many love big dangerous male dogs, and not just to walk or for protection. And boy when I’m shagging can I wag it then!) but then it began to cross the blood/brain barrier (they’d supposedly done extensive testing, and I have a warrantee, but as usual those things don’t mean dog doo) and so here I am, and here this is, and I’m not even sure how this reads or sounds to you, or even if it matters, or that anyone will notice, because somehow the mutation mutated and got out, and now everyone is turning into something, whether they get the shots or not, things they probably never would have chosen, at least not consciously, even though it seems to fit them (my landlord is a gecko and he doesn’t use a ladder anymore, just goes right up the walls to change a lightbulb) otherwise the world seems to be going on about the same as it did before, there’s fewer wars, and we still have politicians (although they look like politicians now, all scaly, and the lawyers and the cops, well I don’t need to tell you what they’re like, and if you’re one and you’re reading this, which is highly unlikely, I don’t give a wag or a howl) but in a lot of ways it’s better, with everybody being what they really are, and all the new clubs, some species or kingdom specific, but mostly wide open, it was inevitable (we always were a sexual species, even when everyone was normal, whatever the hell that was) and now all that repression and shame and guilt is gone, like a quick piss up against a tree, three thousand years worth in less than eight months (lawsuits, murder, suicide, crime and STD’s have practically disappeared, well almost, remember that old saying about a few bad apples, well now we have some b-a-a-a-a-d apples) and at least we’ve solved the problem of population control, that is unless the stories I hear are true, and somehow interspecies fertility has become possible (did you know that some mollusks can do it without stopping for three or four days?)
Sorry, I’m rambling again. Maybe I’d better make this my last attempt for awhile. At least until I’ve changed completely. I decided on dolphin because they were supposedly pretty smart, and I’ve always loved the ocean, and they were at the top of the food chain when we had food chains (now there’s something you never had to watch out for before, especially afterwards) and I’ve already modified my equipment for high pitched sonicsssssssssss....
Oops, having some trouble here. I had to get my old keyboard out when my voice changed. Fortunately my nails are long enough I can still type, but my left paw is already becoming a flipper (in the beginning you could have it affect only specific body parts and some are trying to go back to being mostly human except for... well you can guess, can’t you? That is if you have any imagination left to guess with!)
I’m going to have to finish this later anyway. There’s this girl down the hall (Beth is her name, or at least was, when we talked a few days ago. Big girl with slow thighs, thick, delicious ankles, which were what I kept staring at all the time she was petting me. You wouldn’t believe how many women like—but I said that already, didn’t I? Sorry!) and she’s had this huge tub installed (I forget whether she said “seal” or “sea-lion”) but now she doesn’t have any legs at all, or arms either, just this wet slippery skin tight over acres of soft blubber, and she called to say she’s scored some fresh tuna (I never liked fish before, but I have these sudden cravings now) and she’s invited me, and as soon as the transformation is complete (it only takes a few minutes now) I’ll wriggle on over (Carefully. Dolphins were pretty well equipped in that department, if you know what I mean. After all what else was there to do all day long besides swimming and eating and echo-locating?) and I’ll let you know later how it goessssssssssssss—click—click—eeeee! That is if you’re interested. That is if there is anyone out there to be interested in any of this stuff anymore....
The Second Coming W. B . Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a roc
king cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
from Michael Robartes and the Dancer (1921)
The Bridge by Connie Wilkins
The river swirled and riffled over stony outcroppings above the bridge, then swept smoothly past, flowing ever onward to the sea. As it had, Bernard thought, since before Britain was an island. As it would, even if all should be lost, and this island cease to be Britain.
In his profound despair it seemed obscene that the May morning should be so beautiful. In France, the Somme still ran red, the thunder of artillery shook the ground, and men rotted in their muddy trenches. How, here, could the green of new leaves glow with such tender freshness, and the songs of birds in flight spill over with their rapture?
He looked down into water so clear that he could see speckled trout balancing against the flow, appearing to hang motionless in the amber-green depths. For a moment, as he remembered Neal’s skin gleaming ivory through that water, the eager thrust of his desire challenging the current, a pang of longing tightened Bernard’s groin. Then a light breeze ruffled the surface, blurring his reflection just enough to hide the angry scars across his face. Nothing, he thought bleakly, could obscure his solitude, could let him imagine even for a moment that Neal’s thin, vibrant face, his sleek fair hair, were mirrored there beside him. Or would ever be again.
A swallow darted beneath the bridge toward an unseen nest. Spring, like the river, surged ever onward. How could he bear such peace, such beauty, after such hell? And all they had gained, all they had bought at such terrible cost, was one thousand feet of land won back from the Kaiser in six months. One thousand bloody, bloody feet!
