MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets

by George Saoulidis

  Nap cuddled with his pillow and got comfortable. The noise out there! What were they doing? It was as if the whole ship was shuffling around, everybody banging things.

  Ordinary people could get on with their lives, even in this environment. They would work, eat, sleep, fuck, fall in love, ask permission for a child, get knocked up, raise the child. Day in and day out, gossipping about, watching old movies, reading old books. They never thought about how small their world was, how they were all locked inside metal cylinders that were hurtling through empty space at fractional speed of light. They never thought about the millions of tons of space debris that were shooting towards them like bullets, caught by the great icebergs at the ships’ noses. They never bothered about living their whole lives on the same ship, literally going in circles as they rotated to simulate gravity. Sure, some went about from one Frostip to the other. There were a few entrepreneurs, some just wanted a change of scenery. But, in truth, the ships were the same. The people were the same, across all five ships. It wasn’t like the movies, where you visited a foreign place and saw new cultures and new languages. Here, in the fleet, they were all the same.

  Nap couldn’t stop thinking about those things. A few years ago it was really bad for him, so he took pills. It was a nasty time, and he didn’t remember much from back then. He got help and swore off of that. But the feeling remained. That sinking emptiness, that lack of purpose, that sensation of doom and gloom that followed him around.

  The others felt a bit of that with the radiation accident on Frostip 5. The refugees that suddenly flooded the place made things tense. Living quarters were assigned to families and people who actually worked, the rest had to pile on makeshift cots. Those were too crowded, and Nap didn’t really like being around that many people. So he wandered, being homeless. He didn’t mind. He knew all the best napping spots.

  Bang! Okay, that was it. Nap stood up and slapped himself awake. Something was really happening out there. He peeked through the maintenance closet. Something was up down the corridor, a serious racket. It was far more noisy than a couple of boys bullying each other or something. Nap picked up his ‘Do not disturb’ hotel sign, which he had custom-made. He saw that on a movie and loved it, so he carried one around and hung it out the door during his frequent naps. Then he rolled his pillow into his napsack and carried by the strap on his back.

  He walked down the corridor. Someone was shouting. A woman? No, two of them. A gurgle? Was someone choking? He crouched close and peeked around the hatch. He narrowly fought down a yelp and covered his mouth. A woman was standing tall, covered in a makeshift armour made of ship parts. She held a pipe that was sharp at the end. The end was dripping blood.

  She knew that woman, she was in his old neighbourhood. What was she doing-

  Oh, God.

  “Give up your son and join us, or die,” she snarled at the other woman who was crying on her feet.

  “Please, no! Don’t hurt him,” the mother begged, half-drenched in her husband’s pool of blood.

  Nap’s eyes darted around the room. He knew the layout by heart, a child would easily hide in… There! Behind the panelling of the desk, an out-of-reach area where nobody ever walked close. It popped open to reveal some wiring for the living quarters. And sure enough, Nap spotted the end of a boy’s shoelace.

  “Is he here?” the woman taunted, jabbing her makeshift spear into a cupboard on the wall. The mother cried desperately beneath her. “Or here,” she continued, jabbing another cupboard, throwing pans and glasses on the floor.

  The room wasn’t big. It wouldn’t take her long to find the boy. It was easy to overlook the hiding spot, but if you were meticulous about it…

  “Where is he?” she demanded, kicking the mother in the face.

  A thud came from the behind the desk. Then a whimper.

  Damn.

  Nap was no hero, that much was certain. His mother was disappointed in him. His teachers were disappointed in him. Heck, even he had been disappointed in himself. Definitely not a hero. But he was too smart for his own good. He could see the whole thing play out. The armed bitch was clever, striking the mother to elicit a response from a frightened little boy. What monster does that? When had the fleet become home to murderers and sociopaths? He couldn’t let this happen.

  The armed woman walked purposefully towards the desk, turning her back towards Nap.

  It was now or never.

  Nap unfolded his napsack, ripping the Velcro in a quick swipe. The armed woman heard him and barely had time to turn around. Nap expertly tugged the thing open with a single shake and fit the whole napsack over her like a sock.

  “What? Who the fuck-” the woman protested, pushing and twitching around, but she fell on the floor, tangled and blinded.

  Nap rushed to the desk and popped the panelling open. A scared little boy, no more than four years-old, covered in snot and tears. “Quick, with me,” he said as softly as he could and grabbed the boy out of his hiding spot.

  The armed woman flailed around, unable to free herself. But it wouldn’t be long before she’d manage to find purchase and pull the napsack off of her. Nap paused at the door, and stared right back into the mother’s eyes. In a silent second, an accord was made.

  The mother rose with renewed fervour and fought with the trapped woman, kicking and screaming and cursing at her. Nap ran with the boy in his arms. He ran down the familiar corridors, down the shaft to the next level, feeling gravity bite at him a tiny bit more.

  He panted. Crazy, it was crazy. He ran past corpses. People, left and right, on their beds, on their kitchen floors… No, not people.

  Men.

  The mother screamed. It echoed. So surreal.

  Nap shut the boy’s ears and ran. The armed woman stomped on the metal corridor, climbing down the stairs, waving her spear around. It was dripping blood all over the place.

  Nap ran, carrying the boy, his breath heavy, his heart pounding. He struggled to bring the layout on his mind. Think. Think… Yes! There was a napping spot right around the bend, one of his favourites. Nobody ever stumbled through there, it was right above the artificial wombs section, for the animal breeding. It reeked of methane emissions, so people avoided it.

  He ran towards it, and frantically looked around for the spot. His mind was blocked, sweat was dripping down his eyebrows into his eyes, it had been too long since he had been here.

  There!

  He found the niche and stuffed the boy in. He looked up at him with innocent eyes. Snot still dripped down his nose. Nap wiped it away with his sleeve. “Stay here,” he whispered. “No matter what you hear, don’t make a sound, okay. Shh. Hide in here.”

  The boy nodded.

  Nap stood, and pulled his pillow on his chest, holding it just like he had been carrying the boy up till now. He ran back towards the armed woman and took a sharp turn, making sure she saw him. She chased after him and the decoy of the boy.

  Nap wasn’t in shape. All that napping, all that moping about… He could barely keep this up for a minute or two. His lungs burned, he hadn’t ran like that ever since he was a boy himself. It wasn’t clever running inside a Frostip, that’s how you got bumps and scrapes. The woman caught up to him. Damn, how fit was she anyway?

  A wet sensation in his t-shirt. Had the boy’s drool and snot got all the way into his clothes, touching his skin? Nap touched the spot, his fingers came back red. Then he realised. A spear tip, nothing more than a sharpened pipe really, was sticking out of his chest.

  That couldn’t be good.

  His legs gave way and he fell. The pain was there, but compared to the pain of the exertion, this was a welcome timeout. His eyes blurred… His eyelids fell. His lungs didn’t hurt anymore, it was calm and serene…

  He pulled out the ‘Do not disturb sign’ from his pocket and hung it on the spear tip on his chest.

  Nap took a nap, smiling. Finally. Some peace and quiet.

  The End

  Read A Thousand Eves here. />
  Sex, Lies and Propaganda

  "Redheads are evil," Finn said from between the woman's legs.

  She moaned softly and ran her fingers through his hair. "Are they now?"

  Finn bit softly the patch of red hair over her clitoris, and kept on talking, breathing and brushing his lips on it. "Yes. Didn't you hear? It says so on the videos."

  She threw her head back on the bed and moaned louder, pressing her thighs together on his cheeks. "Mmm... I see. But aren't you the one making them? What do you call them, propas?"

  "Propos," he corrected her, then dove inside her juices with his nose and tongue. The fact that it was au naturel down there made him grunt and bite, wanting her, needing her like an animal. It must be those pheromones, those primal urges.

  See? It wasn't all nonsense, these blasted redheads did have some sort of enchantment on them.

  "Finn, Finn..." she moaned his name in increasing tones.

  He continued his work down there, licking his way through her intimate areas. Her legs, her thighs, her buttcheeks pressed on the mattress, they were all his to nibble and tease. Her skin was like pink marble, pale, never kissed by the sun. Those little spots in patches made him want to explore every last centimetre of it. He kissed and rubbed his chin all over her, she shuddered and moved under his touch, writhing on the bed, pushing his head down on her flesh, her mouth open in the 'o' that spells orgasm.

  She came in waves, he could feel her juices running down his chin. He stuck two fingers in there to assist, just a little bit. He knew not to jam things inside, he wasn't a teenager.

  Circe grabbed the bedsheets in each hand and her knuckles turned whiter.

  "This is your punishment, witch," Finn said and kept rubbing her devil's purse.

  "Oh, yes, oh, yes. OH YES!" she shouted, her body tensing up, her back arching, her waist still pushing against him, grinding her pussy on his nose.

  "I will tap your magick energies, drain them completely," he said, pushing her back down on the bed. He was erect now, and with a push his pants fell on his knees.

  The witch smiled wide at him, her eyes dreamy. She slapped his balls as they hanged.

  "Stop that," Finn demanded, climbing on top of her.

  "I love how it irritates you. Every single time, without fail," she said and smirked. Her red hair was cut short, barely down to her neck but as she lay back on the bedsheets it spread around her head. It caught the light in the most magnificent way, and Finn had to admit that the temptress was very pretty indeed.

  "Shut up, witch," Finn said and placed his knees between her legs, kicking them away.

  Circe resisted only for a second, made sure she had his gaze locked with hers, and then spread them. The temptress even wiggled her butt and repositioned herself on the bed to allow him to enter her at a better angle.

  He rested the tip of his cock between her pussy's lips. They were scalding hot and wet, he could feel it with the sensitive hood. "Prepare yourself, witch," he said, disgusted.

  Circe bit her lip naughtily. "Oh, I'm prepared, my Propaganda Master. Mmm, yes. You made damn well sure of that," she said, cooing.

  He reached down with his mouth and nibbled along her neck. She was shorter, so he had to bend his body sideways. He made sure to rest his cock on her bush while he moved his lips around. He licked his way to the left and found her armpit, there was the slightest presence of hair there as well. It was red and whispy, it made him mad, absolutely mad. He licked and ran his teeth through it, smelling her lovely sweat and body odour. It was one of the witch's finest charms, few men knew that.

  "Hmm," she complained, moaning. "Finn, enough with the teasing, take me."

  "I'll never understand why you flaunt your red hair, witch," Finn said, switching to the other armpit.

  "It's my power. Why should I be afraid to show it?" she said smugly, lifting her waist to brush up on his cock. She reached down with her other hand and aligned it properly, then pushed herself down, hugging his manhood.

  Circe grunted and moaned when he entered her.

  Finn sighed. He was in there, he might as well finish the job. He pushed her back down and fucked her properly, trying to take as little satisfaction from this act as possibly.

  Alas, his body betrayed him.

  Her scent and smell was still on his lips, on the tip of his tongue. Her pussy felt warm and inviting around him, her body soft and perfect underneath him, her lips parting, moaning his name again and again, 'Finn, yes, like that, harder Finn, harder, yes,' and her hands holding the back of her neck, exposing the little bushes of heresy.

  He fucked her as hard as he could. The little witch even wrapped her perfect legs around him, pushing her closer to her, deeper inside of her.

  She lifted her head to kiss him, Finn pushed her face away, holding it to the side with his hand. He was fucking her hard now, grunting, sweating. He had given in to the witch's spell completely now, just taking her like an animal. The fact that the witch screamed in delight as he did so made it clear for him that it was a sin.

  What else could it be, if the witch wanted it that much?

  He felt that familiar pain down low and grunted in one final thrust. He came inside her, and as he was vulnerable like that, the witch snuck in a kiss on his lips. He couldn't push her away, he was panting, barely holding on, his heart beating out of his chest, spent.

  He breathed hard, diving his nose in her armpit, taking in her wonderful scent.

  She brushed his hair while he caught his breath and regained his strength. They stayed there embraced for a long while, his cock still hard inside her, asking for another round.

  He pulled himself away from her and fell next to her on the bed.

  Circe turned to him, resting her head on his arm. She twirled her finger in the hairs of his chest. They contrasted completely, matte black on her pinkish-white skin. "Why are you the one to come and drain me every week, Finn?"

  "What are you talking about? It is the Propaganda Master's duty, of course."

  "Mmm, yes. Duty, of course. But you do have subordinates in the Propaganda Ministry, do you now?"

  "We do. What are you asking, witch?" Finn turned to her. Her hair caught the light and made her face look incandescent.

  "I'm asking why don't you send some of your men in your place. You know, to drain me," she said, pressing her lips together.

  Finn looked back towards the ceiling. "I cannot leave this heavy burden to another. I, as the Propaganda Master, have to endure this."

  "Mmm," she moaned, snuggling inside his arms. "Yes. Endure."

  "Don't mock me, Circe. I have drained you of your magick power, have I not, witch?"

  "Oh, most definitely." Circe wiggled her toes.

  Finn stood up, naked. "It is a task that must be done," he said firmly, putting his pants back up.

  Circe just turned in her bed, naked. She didn't show any inclination to get dressed. She stretched and smiled wide. "Mmm, this was perfect. Let's do it again, next week, Finn. Okay?"

  Finn put on his belt and looked down at the naked witch in disgust. "Yes. Next week, I'll be back to drain your magick."

  Finn delivered the words exactly like a threat, but the witch's eyes glistened, opening wide in expectation.

  He left her room.

  The two guards stationed at the door with rifles looked tense.

  "The witch is drained of her magick," Finn assured them.

  The guards visibly relaxed.

  "For now," he added with meaning. "Lock up behind me," he ordered and they did so.

  "I don't know how you do it every time, Sir," one of the guards said to him, shaking his head. "Such a dangerous task."

  Finn puffed his chest and straightened his uniform. "Yes, it is. However, that is how the Ministry protects everyone from these vile creatures."

  The two guards nodded in agreement.

  "As you were," Finn said and turned away to leave. Despite his aversion to the witch's guiles, he felt better after the task was we
ll and done.

  They couldn't let witches roam free and undrained, after all. That's what the ministry said, and that was the truth for them all.

  The End

  Acquisition Time

  How did the sphere work?

  Frank Shelley didn't know.

  All he did know, was that he put it on the corpse of a postman, and he was now following him like a puppy.

  Obedient.

  Frank turned back to look at the dead guy. He wasn't completely dead, since he was walking. But he was definitely dead in the medical sense if you took out the spherical helmet from him. The red lights on the sphere only made him look even more menacing. Dressed in his work uniform with a logo and a tie, you could barely see the bloodstains on his shirt.

  "Stop following me!" he screamed at him, and he listened to him. So he went, 'Huh,' and ran away. But it was as if there was an invisible tether, because as soon as he got to about fifty metres away, the zombie started following him again. He tested the distance, it was almost exact. Giving up, he threw his arms in the air and said, "Fine, you wanna follow me around? Come along, then!"

  It was night, thank God for that, and Frank took the usual route back home, unable to think of any alternatives. Along the way he did manage to get himself out of the shock and had a thought or two. So, he took an alternate route that was definitely less frequented.

  It only took him five minutes to get mugged.

  "Oh, right," he said raising his hands, "I remember now why I don't walk this street at night."

  The mugger waved a cutter knife at him. It wasn't as intimidating as a blade, but it sure could cut skin and do a lot of damage. "Your wallet and your phone, right now!"

  "O-Okay," Frank stuttered and pawed around his pants, looking for his belongings. He found them and threw them at the mugger, who caught them on his chest in an awkward grab.

  "Nice, don't move, stay right where you are or I'll cut you, you skinny fucker."

  Frank did exactly as ordered. He was far too shocked to even try something, he simply obeyed.