Sunday, August 01, 2004

Bang Free Gang Mature Porn Sex story

TO BE READ BY ADULTS AT LEAST 21 YEARS OF AGE

c 1998 By C.D.E. ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit.
This story may be freely distributed for personal use with
this notice attached.

All Characters And Events Depicted In This Story Are Purely
Fictional. There Is No Intention In Any Manner, To
Represent Or Mimic, Any Real World Situations Or Persons.

Story Content:(MMMM/F, MM, MF, Inter, Impreg)

WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE HOMOPHOBIC OR
DO NOT LIKE READING A FICTIONAL STORY OF THE
DOMINANT/CUNNING SLUT WIFE GENRE, WHERE GULLIBLE MEN ARE
TRICKED/FOOLED/USED, PSYCHOLOGICALLY MANIPULATED,
OCASSIONALLY FLAGELLATED, SEXUALLY DOMINATED BY THEIR
BEAUTIFUL SLUT WIVES AND OCASSIONALLY BY THEIR WIVES' MALE
LOVERS.


AUTHOR: C.D.E.

STORY TITLE: ACCIDENTS WILL HAPPEN


It seems no matter how much she tries to avoid them, my
lovely voluptuous blond wife, Dot, is accident prone. She
keeps having accidental falls or body collisions with
people. If it's not in our bathroom, it's at the
supermarket. She's also had a fall at a furniture store.
These accidents started occurring not long after we
were married 12 years ago.

CHAPTER 1: THE EARLY DAYS: AT THE UNIVERSITY

Dot was the dream I never thought I could even get a
date with, much less end up marrying. She was very popular
with the guys on our college campus, but she said she liked
my innocence and optimistic outlook on life. I always
looked for the good in people, not the negative. She and I
became an item around campus. I soon became her steady
boyfriend. She however, still dated other guys. She
called them her part time boyfriends.
"James, my heart belongs to you, so you don't have to
worry about me being giving it to other fellows when I date
them. You're my soul mate. You're special to me."
Her words meant so much to me. She also told me she
had a weakness for the strong brawny type of men. I on the
other hand was a bantam lightweight and short.
She adored guys on the football teams and other
sports teams, including the local pro teams. Her weakness
was accepting dates with them. She asked for my
understanding. She told me how much it meant to be seen
with these men and quench her thirst to be near them
physically. She admitted after a while, she tired of their
crude, macho shallowness and efforts to treat her as a sex
object. That's why she said it was important for me to be
her steady boyfriend, and them her part timers. She also
said it was important for her to be able to count on me
and my professed love to her. For that reason, she
preferred I didn't date other girls. She wanted to be my
full time steady girl. She let me know that she wouldn't
tolerate me having part time girlfriends.
"Darling if you had part timers, then you'd be
treating me like I was a sex object, just like the jerks I
uncontrollably get a yearning to be with from time to time.
You love me don't you? You wouldn't treat me like
something to be used for a moment's pleasure would you? .
and then tossed away like a empty soda can."
I quickly let her know that I could never treat her
like that. I let her know she meant far too much to me for
that to occur. I knelt and promised my faithfulness to
her.
She and I dated about once or twice every two weeks.
The other time, her part timers took up most of her free
time. She had many, many dates. She was a very popular
girl on campus. There were whispers of many who called her
indecent names. I knew that others were probably jealous
of her lovely looks and being able to date all the top men
on campus. She was always going to some frat party or
another. I later learn she had an open invitation to all
the fraternity parties on campus as well as at a
neighboring college five miles away. Our campus is large.
There are over 25,000 students in attendance and over 15
frat houses. The other college has over 15,000 students
and I believe 6 frat house. Because of the lateness of many
of these parties, she often slept over afterwards.
Many times when we would be seen together, people
would look at us and whisper. It did my ego good, knowing
they were probably envious of us.
The subject of sex finally came up between Dot and I
after we had a steamy petting session one night, on a rare
date when she had a free evening from her part time
boyfriends . This was a year after we were going steady.
I awkwardly asked her to share and express our love
sexually. She kissed me and let me know that she wanted me
to come to our wedding bed a virgin which I was, except
for the affairs I had with my hands.
I expressed my hunger for her and my desire to possess
her. She let me know that I sounded like I saw her only as
a sex object and not as the woman I loved. She made me
think. I apologized, but told her it would be so nice for
us to feel good together.
"In due time darling. I do love you very much, but
I'm so afraid that if I give myself to you, you'll tire of
me and leave me. That'd break my heart."
I assured her I wouldn't do so, or fall out of love
with her. I verbally expressed my love for her in so many
different ways, continually trying to counter every
objection she had to us broadening our sexual experience.
I was becoming rather frustrated. My poor prick was beyond
aching. It was burning for release. You see, the short
skirt Dot wore was up literally up to her waist so that the
skimpy panties she wore were very visible in the moonlit
car. She'd given up on trying to pull the hem down as we
sat there talking. This luscious sight did little to cool
my sexual adore for her.
However, the unexpected happened. Somewhere in our
talk the topic of her having sex with her part timers crept
in.
"So that's it? Just because I've occasionally been
too weak to resist the sexual advances of my part time
boyfriends, you think you should sex me too?"
`IIt'd be nnice.' I meekly replied.
"You don't know how angry that makes me! I thought
you respected me more than that? Take me home right now!"
The moment was destroyed. I begged for her
forgiveness. I apologized profusely.
"Okay, I accept your apology. But we must agree that
you won't pressure me for sex and will wait until our
wedding night to have full sex."
`Full sex?' I asked quizzically.
"Well darling, I was waiting until the time was right
to let you know that I too wanted to have sex with you, but
.. well it's not quite what you had in mind."
I implored her to be open with me. She seemed shy of
telling me. I finally teased it out of her.
"James sweetie, II want you to . er, well love me
between my legs with your tongue. II guess what I'm
trying to say is that I want you to suck my pussy. There
I've said it."
I was speechless and caught off guard. There was a
moment of silence.
She explained that she always had the idea that the
man that truly loved her would do this for her and
masturbate himself until he could exercise his conjugal
rights after marriage. She however admitted that she would
still date part timers as well as sex them.
"That's okay. Maybe it's just a fantasy. I guess I
expect too much and have too higher standards for my dream
husband. Okay, lets go home since I can see you don't seem
interested."
`NNo, that's nnot it. II have never done that
before. II do it for yyou .. eexcept II don't know
how." I replied stammering.
"You sweet thing. You're so cute. C'mon here. On
your knees. I'll teach you to love me that way." She said
kissing me on my forehead and then leaning back and pulling
her skirt well above her waist and quickly pushing her
panties off. Soon, I was staring into her moonlight
illuminated cunt. The warm musk scented odor arising was
so intoxicating. With a few cryptic words of guidance I
was licking and lapping her moist soft warm hairy pussy
meat. Soon she had my head pressed tightly to her vulva
opening. My face was covered with her warm wet juicy sex.
It was quite a delightful joyous feeling to be this way
with her. As I worked my tongue as deep as I could, all the
while sucking up mouthful after mouthful of her bountiful
pussy nectar, I discovered this was really nice. When she
was shuddering and moaning with the joyful pleasure of
orgasm, I felt so proud I was causing it.
Later afterwards, she urged me to free my aching prick
and jerk it off for her. She giggled and mentioned
something about my prick being the smallest she'd ever
seen. Wanting a release so bad, my mind and actions were
focused on getting off. I didn't need much urging. I
came just after a few strokes. She encouraged me on. We
had a wonderfully juicy kiss after I got off.
As I was driving her back to her dorm, I felt so more
in love. I knew we were so much closer than before.
Closer than close.
We saw each other more often after that night. More
frequently than during the first year of us being steadies.
She however still dated her part time steadies. Between
dates she'd have me love her with my mouth. About three
months later, she called me to pick her up from a frat
party at the neighboring college five miles away.
She met me out front. It was Three AM.
She French kissed me passionately after getting in the
car. Her kiss had a strange slightly sour and creamy, but
yet flavorful taste.
"I thoroughly enjoyed myself dear. All the fellows
were gentlemen, even though I was too weak to resist them
when they had me feel their big hard dicks."
`YYou mmean you ssexed tthe whole frat house?'
"Yes, there were only 15 guys . but they were so cute
and so hard up." Her statement almost made me lose control
of the car as I turned on the road back to the university.
About half way there she had me pull over onto a
wooded side road. My heart leaped and was full of
anticipation. I thought maybe she was going to let me
share what 15 other lucky frat brothers had enjoyed
earlier.
"James darling, it would mean so much to me and our
relationship if you'd love my pussy with your mouth now."
`Yyou mmean wwith it ffull .'
"Yes, full of their cum. It would show me you're not
insecure about your manhood and that you do really love
me."
I countered with several reasons why maybe I shouldn't
and she did the same why I should.
"Well lets go. You're obviously not the man you claim
you were. I was wrong about you and your high ideals. It
won't be the first time I was wrong about a man. Lets go.
Take me back to the dorm. It's apparent you're going to
let a little cum from a few dicks spoil what we have. If
your love is so shallow just because I let the guys pull a
train on me, it means your love wasn't that deep to start
with."
I pleaded and tried to reason with her that me not
giving her head shouldn't terminate our relationship. She
dug in. "You either head your tongue in my pussy or we
head down the highway and never see each other again."
I gave in. I shared her delight from being at the
frat house. I tasted her jism coated cunt. The smell was
somewhere between gamy, and a strong pungent musk scent.
The taste was very creamy and gooey. There was a slight
after taste, but all in all the taste was rather palatable,
even if a little slimy. I had saved our relationship and
proved to her my true love, as well as that I wasn't
insecure about my manhood.
She was so loving and grateful for my actions and
promised her love to me. She let me know I was the man she
wanted to marry. I was so elated. It was worth the
aftertaste.
From that night on our love pattern had shifted to me
sucking her juicy gooey pussy after her dates when she'd
been fucked, which was at least three to five times a week.
"Remember darling, you have my heart even if I give my
pussy to others." Her words stuck in my mind as she
reminded me that she wanted me to remain a virgin until we
married, which we'd planned right after graduation.
"Darling you're only one who's sucking my pussy after
I've been sexed. I just wanted you to know that and to let
you know that's very special to me."
There were many rumors being whispered around campus
about Dot and how she put out so easily. However, I was
glad to know that I never heard a rumor about anyone else
sucking her cunt after she'd been sexed. I felt good about
her being true to me in that regard.

CHAPTER 2: WE GOT MARRIED

After getting married, I was finally able to slip my
prick into her hot smoldering cunt. It was so juicy and
warm. I couldn't stay hard for more than a few seconds. I
was finally enjoying what hundreds of her part timer
boyfriends had previously experienced before. Through
practice and getting use to her, I've gotten up to two
minutes.. Her cunt seems to always be hot and juicy. Me
performing oral sex to satisfy her is always part of our
love making. I couldn't satisfy her otherwise.
Well now that it `s 12 years after leaving the
University. We have six kids and live in a nice
neighborhood. I have a good job and the pay is decent. We
are a happy family . However, I'm always worried about my
wife falling down or bumping into someone physically and
having an accident. Not only does she bruise herself each
time, but she often ends up pregnant. You see whenever she
falls or bumps into someone, it's always been a man and
somehow the man's penis gets exposed. So when she falls
down or bump into these men, their cocks get trapped in her
hot juicy cunt and the unfortunate man can't hold back
long enough before extricating himself from my wife's sex.
As a result, he releases his sperm in her. It's so uncanny,
but it has always happened when she's off the pill and we
have been trying to make a baby.
I can attest to the juicy slippery wetness of her cunt
and understand why it wouldn't take much to penetrate her,
but the circumstances are what throws for a loop.
The first time happened when the plumber was over to
do some work in one of our baths. Dot forgot he was there.
The floor was damp. She was wearing only a robe. He'd just
finished taking a leak and was about to zip up when she
opened the door. She slipped on the damp floor. He tried
to catch her. They both fell and got entangled. She said
she was horrified at how quick it all happened and how the
man's penis slipped into her so easily as they collided.
She said that by the time they were able to uncouple them
selves and come to their senses, the totally embarrassed
plumber had released a large quantity of his seed in her
womb.
I know her cunt was always juicy and well lubricated,
so I could easily see where such a thing could occur.
Luckily neither were seriously hurt. Dot sustained
some bruises. She showed them to me when I came home from
work that evening. They were in the form of reddish hand
prints on her shapely rear and her size 38 breasts where
the plumber had tried to catch her and separate the two of
them.
I consoled her and she told me not to worry. She said
she was sure she was already pregnant from me and that the
plumber's sperm wouldn't have a chance to impregnate her.
"After all honey, we made love two weeks ago, when I
was most fertile then. Remember?"
I assured her I didn't forget. Dot had determined her
most fertile time of the month and had me abstain from sex,
or jerking off, until then. She was even juicier during
this fertile period. We'd done this for three months
previously and she hadn't got pregnant. We both had been
through physical exams, so we both knew we physically able
to produce kids.
A month after the accident with the plumber, Dot
missed her period. We celebrated. We both never thought
anymore about the plumber until our first born arrived.
From the baby's facial resemblance, there was no doubt the
biological father was the plumber.
Dot was briefly heart broken. She apologized as well
as consoled me that our first born wasn't mine. However,
she quickly got over her sadness and became the doting
loving mother. I at first raised the issue of putting the
baby up for adoption, but I knew by her silence and the way
she held, cuddled and breast fed him, that I indeed was
going to be his daddy.
Dot persuaded me to invite the plumber over to see our
new son. I abhorred the idea, but she was insistent. I
caved in. It was so awkward for both of us to have the
real father present. Dot took it real well. I was
embarrassed the whole time, especially when my wife asked
that I take a picture of her, my son and the plumber.
The plumber promised any future work for free and that
he would frequently come by to check on things, sort of as
"preventive maintenance" in his words, as well as to see
"my son".
I should've said no, but free plumbing repairs is not
something to give up lightly, even for a little
embarrent and awkwardness.
About two years later she had another accidental fall.
This time it was at the supermarket. It was in the produce
section. Again there was water on the floor. She started
to slip. The produce manager saw her and ran over to give
her a hand. As he arrived, she reached out for his hand,
missed it and grabbed his the top of his trousers at the
juncture of the belt buckle and zipper. Her pull brought
almost her full weight upon this area resulting in the
man's pants being ripped and underwear pulled down. After
his genitals were exposed, he too slipped. Like the
plumber, he toppled precariously and ended up sexually
joined with my wife. As before, before they could untangle
themselves, the poor man's sperm had been released into her
again unprotected and naked cunt.
Occasionally, my wife gets the urge to wear no
panties. Unfortunately, this was one of those times.
She told me she was so glad that there were no
witnesses to this scene. Again, neither were hurt. My wife
had the same type handprint bruises on her as before. My
wife said the produce manager was able to secure his torn
pants with his belt and hide the rip by wearing a work
apron. She offered to pay for the damage, but he refused.
He offered to write up a store accident report for her
fall, but she said she was just too embarrassed. She said
they both were highly embarrassed.
Again this was during a period when we were trying to
have another child. Again she alleviated my worrying that
the produce manager had impregnated her. I felt better.
After all her most fertile period was two weeks ago and I
had shot my month's worth of pent up jism into her several
times. I too thought there was nothing to worry about and
soon forgot about the incident and warned my wife to please
try and be more careful.
Nine months later, she had twins. Again, time I saw
them for the first time, I knew we were both wrong again.
The produce manager had a fraternal pair of twins he didn't
know about.
Again, Dot looked at me with her big blue sad eyes and
apologized. She appeared devastated. However, after
handing me one and then the other, she got cheerful. She
started breast feeding them both. Her face brightened. I
brought up the issue of adoption. Again as with the birth
of our first born, she ignored me, not once but three
times. Only when I talked about the room decorations for
the twins did she acknowledge I was still there. I knew
this meant we had two more children in our growing family.
As with the plumber, Dot felt the produce manager
should know about the children.
"It's bound to come out, so we might as well let him
know so his feelings won't be hurt." I argued against
this. As I was doing so, the door bell rang.
"Honey, I was so sure you would want what I wanted, I
went ahead and invited him. I'm sure that's him now. If
you want me to send him away I will. However, I already
let him know he was the biological father." My wife said
with watery eyes.
I was even more upset now, but knew that it was
probably too late to do anything except as she desired.
As with the plumber, there was awkwardness and
embarrent. Again, I took a photo of my wife and the
produce manager and "our new son and daughter".
The produce manager did seem like a nice chap and was
also embarrassed. This made me feel better about things
somewhat. After all, what was done was done. However, I
felt even better about him when he promised us free produce
items every week.
He was even nice enough to deliver the fresh fruits
and vegetables to our home. I suspected he did so to catch
a glimpse of the twins doing the deliveries. I had to
admit, we got the highest quality items too.
Life returned to normal around the house. She went
back on the pill as we coped with our growing family. I
was a bit sad that we had three kids and none were mine
biologically, however, with me being the eternal optimist,
I quickly got into the roll of being the loving dutiful
father. Both the plumber and the produce manager were
frequent visitors to our house, usually when I was at work.
However, Dot always filled me in on their visits.
"Honey, you know since they both are really like part
time daddies, doesn't that also mean they're like part time
husbands, especially since they are the real fathers, and,
you know, do things for us and the kids?" My wife asked me
one evening after the kids were in bed and we sat watching
TV news.
`I guess you could say something like that, but it
doesn't make much sense. why do you ask?' I asked with a
puzzled look.
"WWell dear, I was thinking that makes me their part
time wife, aand, if it's my responsibility to have sex
with you because I'm your wife, doesn't that mean the same
thing for them?"
I couldn't believe what my wife was saying. However,
out of the past the concept of her part time boyfriends
came back like a thunderbolt.
`I think you're stretching things a bit Dot.' I
replied.
"It just seems like they're being cheated, you know,
by not having sex like we do since we're man and wife."
I applauded her for being sensitive to the situation,
but I assured her that she had no reason to feel guilty
that she was cheating them or that they were being deprived
of something that was rightfully theirs.
"I do feel guilty. I don't care what you say. I'm
feeling like I'm just not doing the right thing honey."
`The right thing?' I replied brashly. My patience was
being stretched on this matter. Couldn't she see I'd been
humiliated enough by her accidents and the fact that the
men knew the children were theirs. I lost it. I blurted out
what I was thinking.
"You're jealous, mean and you blame me for those
accidents. And here I thought you were a man secure with
your manhood. The one who always looked for the good in
others. You're not the man I married! YYou're just a
sham!" Dot yelled as she ran from the room crying.
Her words and logic hit me in the face like a wet
towel. I sat and thought. I went to the bedroom where she
was on the bed crying. I held her and we talked. I
conceded that she was partly correct and she said she
understood how I might be somewhat humiliated by the
results of her unfortunate accidents.
"But darling, I love you. My heart will always be
yours. No one can ever take that away from you". She said
to me sweetly as she kissed me passionately. She then told
me that she felt bad about me not being feeling secure or
trusting her enough to share her pussy with the plumber and
the produce manager. "I'll still be your full time loving
wife, just like I was your full time steady in college." I
was worried she was going in that direction with this
discussion.
We talked some more. I wasn't able to alleviate her
of her guilt or to satisfy her that I was secure in my
manhood or that I trusted her to have sex with our kids'
real fathers. Knowing she wanted to do something about
this situation, I considered some options. Finally, we
compromised.
I agreed that she could asked the two men if they
wanted her to function as a part time wife, that is for
conjugal purposes. If they said yes, I was to go along
with the program. If not, then my wife's guilt would be
relieved and she would say nothing more about the matter.
We made really passionate love that night. I was
really tired out the next morning as I headed out to work.
But it was a very pleasant tiredness mixed with a fearful
anxiety. What would I do if the two men wanted my wife as
their part time wife for sex?
It was a busy day at work. I was glad. It helped keep
my mind off what was happening at home. A half hour before
leaving work, Dot called. "Honey, both of them agreed that
they did feel cheated and feel much better about things
now, especially since I have your permission to give them
some when they want me." I was silent as I let her words
sink in. She went on to tell me that they both had been
there at the same time when she asked them the big
question. They had a threesome. `II see.' Was all I
could say as I stammered and fumbled with my words. `II'll
be home aafter sstopping by tthe hardware store.'
"Honey please come home first. I want to share their
love with you, you know like we did at the university.
I'd love for us to do that, please? That way I'll know
that you support sharing me and are not insecure about your
manhood or your role as a loving husband.."
I arrived home. Dot was in the bedroom. Her mom had
the kids in the backyard playing. My wife greeted me with
a wet juicy kiss. Her breath had a musk type smell. I
knew she'd been performing oral sex. After a few loving
pleasantries, she guided my head between her statuesque
legs. There were cum stains on her inner thighs and her
hairy syrupy wet slick crotch reeked of an even stronger
odor than the faint odor that lingered in the room as I
walked in. There had been heavy sex performed here. It had
been a long time, but I was familiar with it all. I busied
myself proving that I was secure in my husbandly role and
manhood to the woman I loved and that I trusted and
supported her having sex with other men. Like riding a
bicycle after being away from it after a while, I got use
to the taste and flavor of multiple doses of mixed semen
and her tasty pussy nectar. I could tell by the way Dot
clamped her legs around my head and pressed my head tightly
to her that she was enjoying this much more than my normal
pussy eating. In a strange way I was pleased for her and
at being able to give her the pleasure she needed.
After I got her off twice, we hugged and she guided my
smaller hardon between her freshly mouth douched cunt.
She was very juicy, warm and looser than normal. I knew
now I'd have to get accustomed to her sex being this way. I
lasted a little longer than my normal two minutes in her
but it was good knowing I'd truly satisfied my beautiful
full time wife. She revealed to the two men that they
couldn't lick her pussy after she'd been fucked. That was
reserved for her full time husbandme. Obviously she
considered this was a perk befitting the full time husband.
She said both agreed that they wouldn't infringe on my
territory. They would be satisfied to fuck and fill her
with their jism.
`I wish you hadn't told them II was ggoing to ddo
this for you afterwards.' I said in an irritated tone.
"I'm sorry if I did anything wrong." She said sensing
my mood. "The topic came about when I mentioned that I'd
plan on sharing the good time with you when you came home.
One of them said you were probably going to eat me out. I
didn't say you were, but I did ask them both, if you were
did they mind. They both said no, if that's what you're
worried about honey. In fact they both seemed happy you
were going to eat their jism. They had big smiles on their
faces."
I tried to explain to Dot how embarrassing it was for
them to know I did that.
"You worry too much darling. Besides, they're just
like family. It'll be a family secret. Anyway, they both
seem to think it was right for you to do that. I didn't
detect any sort of disrespect in their voices."
I was speechless at her reply.
At dinner she was absolutely radiant, loving and
relaxed. My motherinlaw joined us for dinner and stayed
over night. After the kids were put to bed we three
watched the late news.
"James I've always thought a lot of you, but I know
now for sure that you're the right husband for Dot. You're
the loving and understanding man she's always needed. A
man who has accepted other men's children as your own and
also continue to share your wife with these same men. And
as if that wasn't good enough to show your you love her,
you aren't too humble to kneel and suck up after the men.
I'm proud to have you as my soninlaw." My motherin
law's words, even though well meaning, slapped me across
the face like an oak log. My face was red and flush. I
wondered now if it was on a billboard somewhere that I
sucked my wife's cum filled cunt.
"He's the greatest, mom. I just love him so." My
wife leaned over and kissed me as she spoke. "Just like I
told you, he's always been secure with his manhood even
back in our college days. He knows how to use his tongue
and is good at it. He knew back then that my heart would
always be his exclusively, no matter how many men he shared
my pussy with." She continued.
"That must why you two are so close and loving. Many
couples just don't have what it takes to keep the spark in
their marriage."
"You're right mother. I know James loves me, that's
why I didn't care how many guys I had sex with at the
university, he was the only one I'd let suck my pussy out
after I got fucked."
My eyes opened like an owl. Did my wife know what she
was saying sounded like?
"You really made a good catch Dot. It's hard finding
a good sucker." My face was again contorted as I raised up
stiff in the easy chair as I looking at my motherinlaw
not believing my ears.
"She meant pussy sucker dear, nothing more." My wife
interjected as she lovingly squeezed my hand, seeing my
face reflect my misinterpretation of what her mother was
implying.
The conversation drifted back to the news after that,
but before we three turned in for the night, Dot's mother
volunteered to come over and keep the kids occupied when
their real fathers came over to spend some time with my
wife. "And I'll also watch them when you want to be alone
and suck their daddies' cum from Dot's snatch too."
Dot hugged me as we walked to bed. She chuckled at
her mom's wording. I was still uptight, but Dot consoled
me and helped me overlook what was said. I complained
about her telling her mom many intimate details about us.
Dot apologized, for what it was worth, and ask for my
forgiveness. As she wrapped me in her arms I knew I
couldn't hold anything against her, for I too thought I'd
made a great catch too.

CHAPTER 3: MORE ACCIDENTS

My wife had been accident free for two complete years.
As we started to think about trying to have another child,
I cautioned her against the possibility of her having
another fall or slip and winding up pregnant by some
stranger. Again confident that it wouldn't happen again,
we started making plans to have our own child.
I wanted my wife to cut the plumber and the produce
manager off until she was pregnant. She thought that was
too cruel. They said the same. So in order to keep
everybody happy, it was agreed that they would wear two
condoms. I insisted on this since both the plumber and the
produce manager had rather large cocks, according to my
wife, so I wanted to be sure that if one condom burst, the
other would hold. Reluctantly they agreed.
However, while I was worried about bursting condoms,
fate was again declaring war on us.
Dot had been out looking at furniture, again on an
occasion where she was pantyless. She bumped into a
salesman as they both were coming around a corner. His
suit pants were held up by suspenders, The body collision
caused the suspender latches to open. The man's pants fell
to the floor just as he and my wife got entangled and fell
onto a nearby mattress. Unfortunately he was wearing boxer
shorts that fell with his trousers. As has happened
before, they were briefly coupled, but by the time they
extricated themselves, the damage had been done. She said
it happened so quick that the man's large long penis found
its way into her always slippery wet vagina.
Since they fell of the mattress, bruising was less,
but my wife did sustain handprint marks on her lush tits
from where the salesman tried to catch a hold of something
to stop his fall.
When she called me at work, I scolded her about being
careful and watching where she walked.
Even though I'd again released a month's worth of my
pent up cum into her doing her most fertile period just two
weeks before, I was afraid of her coming up pregnant with a
salesman's baby. I couldn't get over how it was that other
men's cocks seem to home in on my wife's luscious cunt, in
some of the most oddest situations.
Sure enough, a month later, my wife announced she was
pregnant again. I diplomatically, I thought so anyway,
brought up the idea of an abortion. Everyone, including
the plumber and the produce manger, not to mention Dot's
mother, came down on me like a ton of bricks. Even Dot had
the minister come by and talk to me.
After he left, I felt truly selfish and guilt ridden
about what I'd was thinking. I apologized to everyone.
They all accepted.
As Dot became swollen, she looked ever so radiant as a
woman with child. As with previous pregnancies, she always
liked for me to kiss her tummy whenever we kissed and
always in the morning when we awoke and at night before we
went to bed.
Dot continued to have twice weekly sex with the
plumber and the produce manager until sometime in the
seventh month. Dot told me that the doctor prohibited her
from having sexual penetration as well as sucking cocks.
The doctor however approved of me tonguing her to orgasm.
"Darling, I feel sorry for them having to suffer
until I'm well again." She was referring to the plumber and
the produce manager.
I assured her that they would survive and not to worry
about them.
"I hear you, but it just doesn't seem fair. They're so
accustomed to getting off over here at house twice a week.
Er, honey, since you've already tasted their stuff, wwould
you mind doing them . you know, sucking them off for me,
you know take my place until after I deliver."
I gave my wife an incredulous look as I stood their
bewildered.
`II can't believe wwhat you're asking?' I muttered.
"I know it's a lot sweetie, but since they're so much
larger than you, that means they get more hard up. It'd
only be for a few weeks. If you're concerned about them
telling anyone, we can swear them to secrecy." She
offered.
I questioned why she couldn't bring them to the point
of climax and have them pull out of her mouth, or she could
just spit it out.
"No darling, a proper blow job should be to completion
and swallowed. I see you're still insecure of your
manliness. Well I can see I was fooled again by you. And
here I am carrying your child.."
I assured her I was not insecure, but she persisted.
She turned her back to me and folded her arms. I knew then
that she was serious about this matter. We talked and
argued. We argued. We talked.
Dot's mother heard us. She became an arbitrator.
"James, I'll do my best to take care of them off on
Tuesdays, if you'll give them head on Thursdays." Her mom
offered.
"See honey, mom is willing to take on half the load,
then you'll only have to suck half as much."
I gave them both an incredible look of disbelief.
"James what's the problem? You suck their creamy cum
out of your wife's pussy now. What's the difference if you
suck it straight from their cocks? Oh! I know what it is.
You're one of those guys who's afraid he'll get hooked on
licking dicks if he tries it a few times. I know the type
Dot. Got a short dick . insecure in his manhood . lacks
confidence . is a mama's boy . I understand James. We
don't want to be the cause of you becoming a cocksucker
permanently. I bet if you just had a big dick in his mouth
10 seconds, less much doing it for a few weeks, you'd be a
hopeless fag, probably give up pussy sucking all
together."
`HHow ccan yyou say ssay that. II would not!'
"Then prove it to me and your wife that you're not an
insecure with your masculinity. Demonstrate that you can
suck dicks and return to being the husband we hold in high
esteem !" My mominlaw said boldly.
"Honey, mother does have a point. If you don't, it
would cause us to wonder about you." My wife interjected
with a look of worry on her face.
`WWhat! III `m no faggot!. II `m not insecure. Y
You two know that. III .Oh what's the use! I'll show
y'all I'm no fag! I'll suck `em and prove I'm every bit
the man I was before.'
"I'm so proud of you darling. I knew you wouldn't let
me down." My wife said as she hugged and kissed me.
My motherinlaw praised my decision but warned that
she'd be monitoring my efforts.
As we kissed, it dawned on me that I'd never sucked a
dick before. When I told my wife, she said not to worry.
She had a black dildo in her room and gave me pointers
using it. It was so anatomically realistic.

CHAPTER 4: OUR FOURTH CHILD

I waited in the delivery room full of anxiety and
fear. I was hoping I was wrong about the foreboding
feeling I was having. The moment of truth came. I think
could see it in the nurse's face as she showed me back to
my wife and our new baby girl. As I open the blanket to
take a peek, again I knew fate had won. This was the
furniture salesman's daughter.
The routine was very familiar. My wife expressed
remorse but soon became the doting mother after having me
hold the baby. I knew there was nothing to say or do but
support my wife and prepare for what was to follow.
A week after she was home, I met the furniture
salesman. Again I took what has almost become the
obligatory portrait of my wife, the furniture salesman, and
our new daughter.
I resisted him gaining part time husband status, but
this time, it was put to a vote. My wife set up the
scheme. Since I was the full time husband, I had two
votes. Each of the existing part time husbands, the
plumber and the produce manager each had one vote. Her mom
had one vote also. My wife was to be the tie breaker, if
required.
The furniture salesman pleaded his case and said he
felt obligated to provide us with a huge discount on any of
our furniture needs and promised to pay for the new baby's
furniture. I almost voted for him on that accord, but on
principle I voted against him. The plumber and the produce
manager voted for his acceptance. Her mom abstained, saying
we five should work this out. My wife broke the tie. A
split second later, I had three part time husbands to
compete with for my wife's attention. She called them my
"husbandsinlaw".
My wife consoled me. We now had two boys and two
girls in our family. I told her that I was willing to give
up trying for another child. I told her that since our
current children were all black, OH THAT'S RIGHT! I
FORGOT TO MENTION TO YOU READERS THAT ALL MY HUSBANDSIN
LAW WERE BLACK being white he or she would probably have
a tough time anyway with his older siblings.
"I hadn't thought of it that way. But you do have a
point darling." Spoke Dot as she kissed me and agreed that
it was ok with her for us to not try to have another child.

CHAPTER 4: A YEAR LATER SHE WANTS TO HAVE ANOTHER BABY

"James, you said between you and me. He wants a son.
He and I would have a baby, not you and I. I think it's
only fair we put it to a group vote among the other
husbandsinlaws." My wife spoke to me of the furniture
salesman's desire to have a son to go along with the
daughter she'd had for him (our fourth child)
accidentally.
The furniture salesman pleaded his case and I mine
before the panel, which consisted of my wife, the three
part time husbands and Dot's mother. I was outvoted four
to one, including the vote of my mominlaw. Dot didn't
vote since their was no tie vote to break.
This time, to ensure my wife only got pregnant from
the furniture salesman, I and my husbandsinlaw were
relegated to condoms until my wife was officially pregnant.
However, she clearly let me know that she expected me to
provide uninterrupted tongue douching of her jism filled
pussy.
I warned the furniture salesman of my wife's accident
prone nature. He thanked me but said he'd risk it. What
risk was he talking about? Either way I'd end up
responsible for the baby.
My wife went off the pill. The funny thing is that
she didn't have the salesman save up his cum until her
fertile time of the month came around. They screwed
whenever.
I inquired about this departure from the methodology
she and I had used.
"Darling, please don't take this the wrong way, but
he's always shoots a lot of thick cum every time we make
love. You suck his stuff out of me. You ought to know he
always shoots quite a load doesn't he?"
I had to admit he did.
"Well honey, that's the difference between you and he.
You had to save yours up for a month to do what he does all
the time. Therefore I really don't think it's necessarily
to have him wait until my most fertile time of the month
as with you. The slightest chance of me getting pregnant
will be sufficient for his virile wads."
`Oh, I see.' I replied. `But I noticed he didn't
have sex at all with you at all last week when you were at
your most fertile time.'
"I know darling. He doesn't like doing me when I'm on
my period. It was nice because it sort of gave my pussy a
rest from all y'all including your sweet tongue dear. He
said that he'd take his chances getting me impregnated
other than doing that time of the month."
My curiosity satisfied, I chuckled at the salesman
for missing my wife's most fertile time. She reasoned that
even though messy, her pussy was just like a fertile field
full of fertilizer waiting for me to plant my seed in her
doing her menstrual period. It was a little messy on the
bed clothes but what she told me made sense, even though I
was never a farmer. However, I thought it didn't matter.
I was confident she wouldn't get pregnant by him and that
the furniture salesman would fall victim to her accident
prone nature the same as I repeatedly had.

CHAPTER 5: SURPRISE! NO ACCIDENT

To my utter surprise, my wife was pregnant within
three months after going off the pill. Amazingly, she
didn't have an accident either.
Everyone was jubilant except me. The furniture
salesman was smug and proud.
My wife was in her sixth month as we sat one evening
watching TV. She reminded me of how I helped her out with
her previous pregnancy and that she expected the same this
time.
`Dot, I caved in and did as you wanted for the plumber
and the produce manager, but I won't suck their dicks or
that of the furniture salesman this time while you're in
the 7th through 9th months of pregnancy. No way!'
"What's the matter honey, feeling insecure about your
manhood again?" My wife replied in a nonchalant manner as
she read a magazine.
`Stop that Dot!' I said emphatically. `How many times
do I have to prove to you and your mother that I'm not
insecure about my masculinity? How many cocks do I have to
suck to prove it?' I shouted.
"You're getting upset aren't you dear? If you weren't
insecure you wouldn't get so emotional." She replied
calmly.
`Dot, II didn't mean to yell . iit's just that II
feel so down trodden at times. It seems that fate has
worked against me at every turn in our marriage. It seems
that nothing has worked out the way I planned it.
"I understand darling. That has happened to both of
us. That's the way life is sometimes. However, we are both
very much in love with each other and have four wonderful
children. You're a wonderful father for them also. I
couldn't ask for a more loving and devoted father and
husband. You still love me don't you?"
`Of course I do sweetheart. It's just that it's
trying at times to not only cope with not being the
biological father, but having the real fathers around, as
well as them having sex with you all the time. The worse
part is knowing they do it better for you than II ever
could.'
"Just think of them as being good at putting cum in
me, but nobody can do a better job than you at getting it
out. Honey it's so sexy to sit on your face and feel their
big cum globs get sucked out and slide from the back of my
pussy in your upturn mouth as I ride your face. That
really lets me know you're so macho and secure in your
manhood. I just love it knowing you're eating their fuck
juices from my pussy and knowing that you're only
interested in pleasing me because of your love for me and
not worrying about something silly as what society calls
manly pride. Your husbandsinlaw are the insecure ones in
that regard. You're not. Remember dear, it takes more of a
man to clean up a mess than to make it. And you really
know how to clean up my pussy after others have made their
mess in it. I love you for what you do for me dear."
At that moment, my wife shuddered.
"The baby is kicking darling. Here feel it." Dot
said gleefully as she placed my hand over her distended
tight skin abdomen. The tiny but strong tremors were quite
evident.
"I love you so much darling. You can handle me having
other men's babies and raising them as our own. It takes a
very special man to do that." My wife said before placing
a juicy kiss on my mouth as she held my hand on her belly.
The unexpected sensuous kiss calmed me and reminded
just how much I loved this woman.
"Darling, don't you worry. I'm not going to press you
further about taking care of our husbandinlaws throbbing
cocks while I'm unavailable. I guess mother will have to
carry the whole load. And this time she has three big
stiff ones to handle versus two before. I'm sure she'll
understand your reasons. You're special to her too. She
thinks highly of you . but you know that anyway."
`Dot I know your game. You're trying to make me feel
guilty aren't you?' I replied smiling.
"No honey, just laying out the facts. The fellows will
really miss you sucking their dicks. They actually think
you suck better than me or mother. They really respect you
getting on your knees and being a surrogate pussy mouth for
their hardons. They have nothing but respect for you
darling. I can't tell you how many times they've all said
they wished they loved a woman enough to do what you do for
me. In fact, they talked about asking you to suck them off
when it's my time of the month, but I told them you
probably wouldn't accommodate them. They all changed their
minds, but they still might want you to do it for them when
I'm not pregnant."
`TThey wwill?'
"Yes. So you know they are counting on fucking your
face starting next month."
My wife let me know that the furniture salesman had
been told of my cocksucking role by the other two husbands
inlaws. She let me know that he was as excited at being
sucked off by me as they were.
"Honey can't you tell they adore you sucking their
dicks? Have they ever shown any disrespect? I bet not.
Sure they might say something like "suck my dick sissy" or
"Swallow my jism faggot." But that's just macho talk
saying they enjoy what you're doing for them. They don't
have any other way to say they appreciate you blowing their
big dicks. And I bet they only say things like that when
they're about to shoot off. Am I right?"
`HHow did you know? TThey told you didn't they?'
"They may have mentioned something about it. But
honey, not once did they talk about you in a disrespectful
manner. I know you don't believe it, but the three of you
have built a strong bond. And it would be so unfair of you
to not treat the newest member of the group as you have the
other part time husbands. You know, including him in the
bonding that you've done with the others."
I pondered what my wife said. For I did sense their
was some sort of strange bond being built up among the
first two husbandsinlaws and myself. I guess it's hard
not to have some kind of bond After having sucked the guys'
big black cocks for two months. And yes, there did seem to
be a better rapport between the three of us as a result of
my oral efforts. I could see logic in what my wife was
saying.
"And honey, believe me, I can tell you the guys don't
just let anybody suck their dicks and swallow their jism."
"She's right James. None of `em would let a prissy
fag suck their fine tools. But a fine husband like you,
who's devoted to his wife, and wants to share her
experiences, and doesn't mind sharing her, they'd let you
mouth their big rods. They hold you in high esteem dear."
Interjected Dot's mom as she walked in the room picking up
on the conversation.
We three talked well into the night. Finally the two
women convinced me that I should again become a "pussy
mouth" for a couple of months. Three reasons for doing so
were: 1: It would be unfair to the furniture salesman if I
didn't treat him the same as I'd done my other husbandsin
laws; 2: It would build a rapport with the furniture
salesman and maintain the excellent rapport I had with the
first two part time husbands; 3: It would erase any
lingering doubts of my wife and mominlaw that I was
afraid of becoming gay if I occasionally sucked dicks.
Therefore to finally put the last matter to rest, I boldly
let them know I'd suck dicks on demand whenever the men had
an urge for me to swing on their rigid rods.
"James that's so macho and courageous. Like I said,
my daughter made a good catch. You're a fine husband to my
dear girl. She couldn't have done better."
"Mother is so right darling. You're the best thing
that could happen to a girl. I'm so lucky to have you as
my husband." My wife added as I notice the sparkle in both
women's eyes. I could sense that I had managed to place
myself in even higher esteem with them by my bold
initiative.

CHAPTER 6: ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY

The furniture salesman got his wish. Dot had a
healthy 6 pound son for him and us.
To my surprise, my three husbandsinlaw used me far
more that I thought they would while my wife was in her
last trimester of pregnancy. Even with my mominlaw
helping out, it seems the three black men required far more
sexual attention than she or I had anticipated. It seemed
like my mouth was constantly filled with stiff black meat
and it seemed like I was swallowing pints of hot thick
creamy spunk every week.
Even with my wife back in operation, the fellows still
had a healthy appetite that kept all three of us i.e.,
me, my wife and her mom busy taking their dicks and their
copious loads of spewing sperm.
To make matters worse, the brother of the produce
manager came into the picture. The produce manager sent
his brother to fill in for him a couple of times while the
produce manager was away on business. I objected, but was
over ruled by the other husbandsinlaw and my wife's mom.
However, the brother wanted to become a part of our odd
circle after his brother, the produce manager resumed his
regular visits.
Again I objected, and to my utter surprise, so did my
wife.
"James I agree with you. I agreed with him filling in.
But the only way he can stay is to become a husband like
the rest of you. Otherwise, I'd be committing adultery and
cheating on y'all. I can't do that. So For him to be a
husband, he has to be either married to me like you
darling, or get me pregnant. Since I'm already married to
you James honey, the only other option is for him to want
me to have his child to add to our family."
I was flabbergasted at her statement. However, the
produce manager's brother readily agreed that he'd like to
"knock her up". I was so speechless that I had to sit down
while the others voted me in another husbandinlaw.
A year later, we had our sixth child, another girl.
Again while in her 7th through 9th months, my mominlaw
and I had to contend with providing sexual relief for four
horny men versus three as before. As before, it was a very
"filling" job for me.
Oh well, the produce manager's brother is a butcher,
so we get the best cuts of meats for free.
All in all, I guess I can't really complain too much.
I don't get to have straight intercourse with my wife as
much as my four husbandsinlaws. Besides having stretched
her cunt too much for her to get any significant pleasure
from my so small member, they keep her busy and satisfied
with their much bigger tools, and well filled with their
thick cum. I on the other hand am busy proving I'm the
better man by cleaning up the mess they constantly make in
her hot bushy juicy pussy.
Beside fulfilling my own sexual needs by pulling
myself off occasionally, my mominlaw has found joy in
performing sixtynine with me after she's been fucked by my
black husbandinlaws and friends of theirs.
However, we have some real nice furniture. We get the
best produce every week. I love grilling those tender T
bones steaks and other cuts we get all the time, and I
never have to worry about plumbing repairs.

THE END

NOTE FROM AUTHOR: If you like these type fictional stories
from me, feel free to send comments or some ideas for
future story plots: ccwriter

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Saturday, July 31, 2004

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Thursday, July 29, 2004

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This file is a part of Elf Sternberg's Collected Works on . The
complete archive of Elf's work can be found on his website at:

drizzle/~elf

The author can be contacted at:

mailto:elfdrizzle



Brieanna, Part 1

Journal Entry 201 / 00057

Elenya, Yavar 06, 00057

My head hurts. Hurts? It shouldn't hurt; for that matter, I shouldn't
have a head. At least, I shouldn't feel like I have one.

Let's try this again. Do I have eyes? Scan left, right. Yes, I have eyes,
physical ones, so I try the eyelids. They open. Interesting. Apparently
I'm not deceased, not yet. Typical. Failure. So what am I looking at?

Eyes aren't focusing. Not surprised. Wait. Close them again. Do a few
exercises, like Trill taught me all those years ago. Try the eyes again.
Open. Okay?

Okay, better. Look around. Wooden roof, couple of crossbeams. Good
construction, but not typically Pendorian. Hmm. Turn my head to see the
rest of the room.

Doesn't work. Neck's stiff as hell. Wait. Practice again. One muscle, two,
two, three... again and again. Force the fire. Try something easier. A
hand. Toes move, good. Try some more. Ankles. I'm getting on my feet,
at least. How long was I out, that I feel this bad?

Wait a minute. This is familiar. Think. Where have I felt this?

Cryo. Check. Yes! A dead monkey has been sleeping on my tongue. At least,
that's the way it tastes. I was in cryogenic suspension. Odd, the last
thing I remember was...

I tried to kill myself. Yes, that was it. Brain is NOT, repeat, NOT
online. Okay. Acceptance. I tried the old fashioned way, too...slit
wrists and bath. Stupid. Should have realized that Dave would call for
help the moment I was out. Didn't try hard enough. Okay.

Why did I try? Think.

Nothing.

That's idiotic. Got to be something. Think. Nothing comes. No reason
for the suicide. Other than.

Depression. Depression of the conceptual artist. There is nothing
left to live for, not because I've done it all, but because I know I
can. That's stupid.

Is it? I don't know, it is true. I can do virtually anything. Hmm.
Frustrated.

Let's try this again. May as well get on my feet. I'm not going to
try again, at least not until I determine what's going on, where I am,
and who saved me, and should I hate them or thank them, or both?

Slowly. OUCH! Shit, I'm stiff, I hate cryo. If there's anything worse
than waking up from coldsleep, I'm not sure what it could be. The effort
of sitting up makes my head spin, but I do it. The band of muscle that
attaches left shoulder to skull is tighter than anything, hurts like a
hot poker. I want to concentrate, banish the pain, but I can't summon
the strength.

I stand... and fall to my knees. Much better. Can't stand, may as well
crawl towards the door.

There is a door here. Okay, crawl towards it. Locked. Is there another
door? Yes. Okay, let me get my bearings. There's a locked door, a rather
simple bed, a desk, a mirror, another door, and a big window. Outside the
window I see sunlight, a big tree, a willow, and beyond that, the cliff
face of a mountain, not too distant, either. Nice place. Willow's cold,
the leaves yellowing, although it's still early in its season, mostly
green. I crawl for the other door, which is ajar, and peek in around
the jamb. It's a bathroom, pretty old fashioned too. Only thing even
remotely unusual is the bidet, but that's an architectural preference. My
bladder screams in recognition, and I manage to gradually haul myself up,
sit down on the damned commode and relieve myself.

My head swims, clears, and I see a glass on the sink. Fill glass from
sink, drink. Cold, clear, feels wonderful going down. Gods, then, it
hurts! Throat's raw!

Stupid. Cryo. Forgot that thick syrupy shit I'm supposed to drink
afterwards. Oh, forget it, who cares if my electrolytes are balanced?

Drink more water, ignoring, for the most part, the pain signals. Try to
rise, steady myself on sink and towel bar. Look in mirror.

Gods I am a mess. No beard, so I wasn't in cryo long. Look at wrists.
Nothing, not even scars. Good healing job, but there's a pain in the
crux of my elbow. Oh. Intravenous scarring, they were taking care of me
in a serious way. It'll go away, I'm familiar with it.

Walk, unsteady towards window. Look out. Same assessment. More trees,
again in the beginning of Firith, the season of fading. And there's...

What the? I didn't design those!

And who's she? Whoever, she's beautiful. Thick, small blond curls,
big frame, high sweet breasts, naked, freckles, looking Irish almost.

And who built her unicorn? If it's a 'droid, it's from Grand Design,
nobody else on Pendor makes them that well. If it's not, I'm impressed,
I thought nobody had reached my talent yet, at least not with mammals.

She vanished out of sight almost as soon as I got a good look at her. She
rode with just a blanket. I looked. I was on the second floor, but the
window wouldn't open. I pressed my hand to the glass, and it was warm
to the touch, so I assume it was warm outside.

I began an intensive search of the room. The bed was simple, as I'd said.
Small but comfortable, nothing fancy. Tried the desk...Hmm, interesting.
The top flips over, keyboard. Okay, where's the...neat, the screen is in
the mirror. Good effect, hides a lot, but takes refocusing, it's like
looking into a head'sup display. Drawer's got a pen, paper. Try the
bathroom. No razor in the medicine chest, in fact nothing at all in there.
Soap in the bathtub. I smiled. I could slip and fall and kill myself.

Do failed suicides always think this way?

What's the vidmirror hooked to? Try it. Standard input, but no email
output, apparently. Look at the date. 57! It's been FIVE YEARS!? Where
the Hell have I been?

Frozen solid.

Oh, yeah. Waitaminute! Run to the window. Look. Yeah, sun's overhead,
can't see much otherwise, damned mountain in the way. Assume for the time
being I'm on Pendor. Newsline's Pendorian, at least. Try a music program.

Nothing. No audio throughput at all. I guess I wait for my hostess. I
went and lay down on the bed.



"Ken?" Soft voice, sweet and high pitched, with a middlin' southern
accent, like from north Georgia on Earth somewhere. I come to
consciousness suddenly, flailing.

"Wha?..." I said.

"Easy, easy," she said. My eyes came to rest on the young woman I'd seen
before. A better look at her face. High cheekbones, soft, definitely
Irish eyes. But that accent!

"Who are you?" I demanded of my...captor? Savior?

"Are you feeling all right, Ken? Hungry?"

"Who are you?"

"My name's Brieanna Flanders. Call me Brie."

"Brieanna Flanders? There weren't any Flanders in my designs."

"I know. I'm not anyone you know, or made." Her voice was infinitely
patient with me.

"That's impossible. The year said it was '57."

"It is."

"Then we're still in the Pocket Realm. You can't be from outside, yet,
there is no contact with the outside. The Gate is closed, and will be
until '94."

"I'm from here. I'm just not anyone you ever worked on."

I looked at her. "Then where did you come from? Everyone here is someone
I worked on, except for one person, and you are not she."

"Oh, no? Why couldn't I be Oenone?"

"Because Oenone reeks of magic, and you, my dear, are exactly what I see
in front of me, nothing more, nothing less. You are not Paris' paramour."

"That's true. Stupid bastard, she should have killed him when she had
the chance."

"Brie...where am I?"

"The mansion."

"Sounds ominous, like number 2 pronouncing I'm in 'The Village.'"

"Not that bad, but the maps won't tell you where you are, and there's
no place to go beyond the mountains, anyway."

"Then I am in 'The Village,' at least in that I'm not leaving anytime
soon. Am I number 6?"

"No, no, nothing like that. You're Ken, and that's all."

"Are we alone?"

"For the most part, it's just you and me in this house. There's an
SI, too."

"Not an AI?"

"Nope. The only person you have to talk to is me. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's okay. So." I sat up, slowly. "Are you going to
tell me where you're from?"

"No. And I probably won't for a while. Just take it for granted that I'm
here, and that I'm a friend of a friend of yours, and I'm your friend
as well."

"So. Why am I here?"

"I'm not sure about that. I think that's for you to decide."

"And you're here to help me make that decision."

"Well... yes."

"Are you going to help me make my own decision, or the 'right' decision,
in the eyes of your... friend."

"Your own. At least, I hope I can. We're pretty independent out here. It's
just you and me. And the animals down in the stable."

"Yeah, I saw that. Is that a 'ganic, or what?"

"It's a real unicorn, trust me."

I looked at her face again. The words and the accent went together pretty
well. So I've never worked on you in any way, eh, Miss Brieanna Flanders?
Then who made you?

What are you?



"Are you hungry?" she asked, after the few minutes that I spent studying
her face and she spent patiently waiting for me to finish.

"Actually, yeah, I am."

"Then let's go eat. Drac, dinner in the dining hall."

A new voice, this one well modulated, but unless it was consciously
blocked, obviously SI, said, "Yes, Brieanna."

I looked at her. "Drac? Your computer is named Dracula?"

"Sure, why not? It's not AI, it's just a machine."

I suppose. "Well, then, lead on to dinner." She opened the previously
locked exit to the bedroom, into what apparently was a main hallway
and foyer. There was a railing opposite the door, and below was a huge
room, apparently the main room of the estate. There were a couple of
stuffed chairs, and some bookshelves. The place had an air of age, but
it couldn't be that old... could it? And she did not belong, other than
that her accent matched the obviously southern plantation design. There
was that wonderful smell of cured, aged wood.

She led on down the single staircase, and when we reached the bottom I
looked around. The carpet was oriental. There was a grand piano in one
corner, a saxophone next to it. I couldn't play either, so I assumed
they were both hers, but then she may have lied about being alone. She
led me through a pair of swinging doors into a room with a small square
table with two chairs and candles. She sat me, and then seated herself.

"So."

"So," she repeated. "What do you want to know?"

"Where am I?"

"On Pendor."

"I know that! That's more square klickage than all of the rest of the
known galaxy together, so that doesn't do me much good. So, where am I?"

"Why don't you step outside and take a look?"

The old Shardik came online. "Because I've been invited to dinner by
a beautiful young lady, and I'm not about to step out on her to see
the weather."

She smiled. "You probably won't recognize it. We're pretty far from
either of the major inhabited sectors, and we're not close to the Farside
colony, either."

At that moment, a kitchen droid, real oldfashioned type on wheels, no
less, came out and began to distribute dinner to the two of us. It was
a well done bird, turkey, I'd have guessed, and was quite delicious. We
continued the conversation as we ate.

"So you're not going to tell me where I am?"

"Nope. I'm not even going to give you the sector number."

"Oh well. So, am I a prisoner here?"

"A guest. You've got free rein to the place."

"Even access to the kitchen?"

She smiled, a small, wan, smile. "Yes, even access to the kitchen. And
I won't hide the knives."

"I appreciate the gesture, but I don't think that's necessary."

"Then you won't try again?" There was a sudden hope in her eyes, like
a flash.

"I didn't say that. But remember, you said your job was to let me make
my own decisions. Tell me, Brieanna, are you my savior?"

She smiled thinly. "Nothing like that. Your... savior... simply thought
that you'd made a rash decision and decided to let you try and look at
whatever questions and problem you had again."

I sat there and stared at her, trying to absorb what she'd said, and still
trying to figure out who and what she was. Dinner was apparently over. I
excused myself, asking for directions to a washroom and permission for
leave. She gave both graciously.



Dark fell as suddenly as it always does, and a wild wind whipped past
the house as I sat in my room. There was a knock on the door. Startled,
I went to answer it. It was my warden.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"I suppose, don't see why not."

She entered and leaned against the wall of the closet. "Are you upset
that you're here?"

"Upset? No, not really. Why should I be? I'm alive, after all."

"That's not funny, Ken. Don't be bitter."

"WHY THE HELL NOT? The most precious and personal decision one can make
is to take their own life, and when the time in my mind came for me to
exercise that right, you take that power away from me and imprison me
somewhere on my own homeworld? My warden is a beautiful young women who
won't answer any of my questions, impossibly claims to not be a Pendorian,
and won't tell me the way home!"

"I didn't say I wasn't Pendorian."

"You said you were nobody I worked on, and you weren't the child of
anybody I worked on. The only way that's possible is if you're Oenone,
and you are so out of character with her, you don't even smell like her.
You're a human, that's obvious, and you aren't any sort of android I know,
your scent is too perfect. You aren't Pendorian."

"I am, trust me. Just nobody you ever worked on."

"Okay, say that you are, it's a stupid argument. You still won't tell
me how to leave."

"You could walk."

"Oh, great. And how far away are we from the nearest town or village? That
distance could be measured in lightminutes!"

"Actually, the nearest town or village would involve a considerable swim,
walking in either direction."

"We're on the aspinward side?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Nobody lives out here. My best chance is waiting for Maha
Oren to find his way by."

"Doubtful, his team is headed the other way, anyway."

"Oh, great. Look, Miss Flanders, I'd really like to go to sleep, alone,
if I may."

"Okay. Will I see you in the morning?"

"If I feel like seeing you, maybe." I led her to the door, and,
admittedly, slammed it on her as she left.



I awoke the next day sometime after daylight, and began to look around
for something to wear. The lessthancomfortable clothes I'd had on
yesterday were on the chair, but I had no desire to wear them, so I
opened the closet and examined its contents.

Seems somebody knows what I like to wear, at least. There were a lot of
Tshirts, collared simple shirts, a few heavier, nicelycut shirts, two
vests with what looked like a million pockets, and several pairs of jeans.
I hoped silently that they fit. In the drawers I found appropriate shorts
and socks, and dressed myself comfortably.

I tried the window again. It opened. Figures. Outside was cool and
comfortable, and I took one of the vests along, the blue one.

I left the room and headed downstairs. I realized that I had no idea what
this house was like, and the mistress thereof was nowhere to be seen, so
I decided to look around. The first room I headed for was where I assumed
the kitchen would be, and I was right. Incongruous. It was done in a lot
of stonework, and not many windows, like that of a medieval castle, and
the robobutler looked so out of place I laughed. I examined the drawers,
and sure enough, she was true to her word. I could find the knives if
I wanted.

I examined the cold room and the larder, and found the supplies adequate.
I found some grains, some brown sugar, and some milk, so I assumed that
that was breakfast. Not bad.

I continued around, finding that a lot of the house was empty. Empty
rooms, empty basement, empty hallways. And everything was old, older
than it should have been, older than it could have been. There were a
few truly Pendorian characteristics to the place, like the fact that
there was power, but no outlets. Everything had it's own power source,
even the kitchen blender, or the electric keyboard I found in one room,
complete with two speakers. I got it to squeal a few notes.

I found a few locked doors, and I figured that there were good reasons
they were locked, so I left them alone. Even though, I thought, they could
hold the Sdisk out of here. Then again, they could simply be her bedroom
doors. They did concentrate towards the center rear of the first floor.

But there were other weird rooms that I didn't understand. If they were
trying to keep me from trying again, they were doing a lousy job of it,
whoever 'they' were. I found a room with a couple of brassenclosed
chests, unlocked, and when I opened one I found... guns? All sorts of
guns, rifles, pistols, even one of my person favorites, a .45 Army Colt.
And there was ammunition for them, too. I took the .45, and, after
checking the slide and action, loaded sevenplusone and put it into a
belt holster I'd found in the chest as well.

There was a wine cellar, again with very Pendorian wines in it, including
varieties I did not recognize, although they were all dated some time ago.
This was all so weird, like I'd fallen into another, different reality
from my own, yet almost like my own.

I found another room with an easel in it, and a halfdone portrait
of myself, apparently done by my captor. It was a fair likeness, I
decided, but it obviously needed work, since only half was done, the
other in pencil sketch on canvas. On an impulse, I fastdrew the pistol,
but I decided against shooting my image. Didn't want to put a hole in
Brieanna's work, not yet, at least.

I decided, then, that it was time to try the front door, so I headed
out that way, but on the way I passed the piano. Actually, it was a full
Pianoforte, and it was welltuned. I can't play piano worth a damn, never
did learn anything beyond a few simple melodies. I've always been openly
envious of people who can play. And the saxophone, forget it. I might
be able to get a sound out of it, halfway between a squeal and a sneeze.

So the front door it was. I opened it and stepped out. The ground of
the house stopped very short of the door, so I stepped out into the
long grass and walked away from the house. After about five minute,
I turned around. The house was in one corner of a large, grassy field,
three edges of which were of huge primeval forest, and the final edge was
a mountain cliff. It was a goodsized mountain, and the cliff ran vertical
for almost, oh, I'd say about four hundred meters. Then I saw the joke.

When I realized what I was looking at, I almost died laughing. Most people
probably wouldn't have gotten it, but it was funny to me. The house was
an American southern plantationstyle design on the outside. What's
funny is that there is nowhere in America where the mountain and the
building exists together. There is nowhere in Dixie where you'll find
mountains like that. Whoever built this had an interesting and subtle
sense of comedy.

And a good knowledge of Terra's history. Again, it pointed to Brieanna's
lying to me somewhere.

Odd. I haven't decided what I'm going to call my prison guard yet. Brie
is too common, but do I then call her Brieanna or Miss Flanders? Gods,
Miss Flanders sounds like an old school teacher. Brieanna it is, then.

I looked up, then, along the Ring. Ring it was, so at least I was on a
ringworld, although confirming that it was indeed Pendor would take some
doing. Although, I thought with a smile, there were no other ringworlds
around, at least as far as I knew.

Glancing up, I watched for a few seconds to register the direction the
shadows were moving and figure my concepts of 'east' and 'west', and,
true to her word, I figured we were aspinward of the ocean, and if that
was the Vinyare' sea, then we were pretty far away from any inhabited
region. Great.

I walked around the side of the house, and as I did so something caught
my eye. The touchstone of the building was there, and engraved on it was
"Paul Lewis, '54." Okay, that confirms something else. Paul at least
had a hand in this. Figures, my first son doing this to me. Do I kill
him yet, or what?

I continued on my walk. Behind and slightly to the left of the house
were a pair of buildings, one of which was open, the other of which had a
large door on it. I tried the one with the door first, as it was closest,
and it opened.

Okay, this was not funny, anymore. Lying on the cement floor of what
appeared to be a garage was a full highsuit of Shirow powered armor,
and it looked like garbage. Pieces were torn out and the upholstery of
the harness was shredded. Whoever allowed this to happen to his armor was
really ignorant and shouldn't be allowed near a vehicle again in his life.
There were servos scattered about the floor and covered with grease. If
Hitomi'd seen this, she'd have screamed. She virtually worships her armor.

I walked into the dark little garage and looked into the gutted armor.
There were cracks in the outer shell, too, and the faceplate was garbage.
The S.L.A. lenses were all missing, and one of the ears was snapped off. I
looked for one of the power switches in the lower arm, and found it.
Nothing. I'm more partial to Stark or Haam armor, myself, but Hitomi
swears the maintenance efforts are worth the power of Shirow. I tried some
of the alternate power sources, and they were dead, too. I looked at the
back, and both battery pods were missing, and the two PFusion tubes were
cracked and drained. I climbed over the chestplate and tried to get in.
Whoever wore this armor was a little shorter than I was, and a little
heavier, but if I could find some stuffing, I could sew a new harness
that would fit me.

Wait a minute. I have no intention of wearing this armor. It doesn't work.
I climbed back out and headed towards the other building.

Horses. It was a stable, again with a robot Maintenance Unit. I asked the
MU where its mistress was, but there was no answer. Damned SI, it's not
programmed to respond to my voice. Oh well. There were three stalls, but
only two had horses in them, one a grey stallion, the other a brown mare.
Not knowing much about horses, that's all I could tell you. Except that
they seemed to be in excellent condition, with good muscle tone and pelt
color. They were shoed, and their teeth were whole and healthy.

So what was the point of all this? Was it some sort of amusement park
for suicidal Shardiks? If it was, it was a very poor job, I was not
amused. So what then?

The answer was right there, in front of my face. It would be some time
before I figured it out, though. The pistol, the horses, the piano, the
shredded powered armor, the beautiful girl. All pieces of a puzzle. Even
the mountain.



Time passes quickly when there's very little to measure it against other
than the time of days. Of course, children grow up quickly, classes come
to an end, even projects and spells have their durations, but when you're
doing none of those things, but instead merely existing on a daytoday
basis, you don't notice the passage of time.

In any event, the newsline from the outside informed me of said passage,
and it meant little. About five weeks had passed, and the weather had
gone from pleasant Autumn to cold Winter, and the first snows had come. It
wasn't sticking well, but at least it was very white where it did stick. I
had taken to daily walks, but these were going to be difficult soon.

My captor, Brieanna, is still here, and I see her daily. We've gone to
the point of being informal around each other, seeing as apparently I have
to put up with her; either that or take a hike, and I've nowhere to go.

Speaking of hiking, I did find a pair of good walking boots and a
backpack, apparently suggestive that I can leave if I want to, but I no
longer do. There's a mystery here, and I want to solve it. Of course,
the mystery surrounds me. Why am I here? I don't think I'm going to end
up being told by Brieanna, but maybe I will.

I've also taken over some of the duties of the household. Brieanna
suggested a fire in the living room, so I cut down a few trees and split
some logs the other day. Funny how doing physical work like that changes
attitudes. There was something more... more real... in doing things like
that. In cutting down a tree.

Not that I'm going to become a lumberjack, mind you. But I've read a lot
of books in Brieanna's library, almost to the point of saturation, and
I'm becoming bored. The other day I set up a holography set I found in
one of the rooms, a room that had been empty a few weeks ago. It was an
enormous set of gear, and it took me all day to set it up in the field
in front of the house. I kept glancing up and praying for it to not
rain. It was overcast, but I hoped for the best. Actually it started
snowing the next morning.

But after about seven hours in the sun, I waited for nightfall. And
when it came, I stuck in a laserdisc of a holographic realization
of Shakespeare's King Richard. About halfway through I began to do
some of the parts myself, standing up and mimicking the actors on the
video. Well, since it was a holographic realizations, the images filled
a good deal of the field. About halfway through Richard's curse to the
King, I heard a giggle behind me. Somewhat aghast at having been found
out, I turned around.

Of course, It was Brieanna. She said, "Don't stop, you were doing
wonderfully."

"I don't do public performances," I replied, somewhat angrily.

"But why not? You do an excellent Richard."

"You like Shakespeare?" The fact that she spoke Anglic was something
I already knew; her library was full of the stuff. I was surprised,
however, that she also spoke some Arabic, a language I don't know.

"Of course. He's fascinating, don't you think?"

"Well, yeah, but..." The play continued on. I hit the PAUSE button on
the VHR. The actors came to a dead stop, in midargument.

"Why don't you continue?" she asked again.

"Look, if you want to watch the play with me, sit down, but there is no
way in Hell you're going to get me to continue."

"But I thought all humans like to copy their heroes. I saw a movie some
time ago, from your collection. Risky Business? Same thing."

"Yeah, well. Notice Cruise did that scene alone? It's... well..."

"You're embarrassed. Afraid that if you make a mistake, someone somewhere
is laughing at you."

"Well, sure, wouldn't you be?"

"I don't know. I've never really been in that position." Her eyes were
dreamy for a moment, and then she said, "Ken, tell me... You made all
of this. I mean, the Ring, the people, the whole thing. Well, okay,
you didn't make the life on it, but you changed it..."

"That's what a genetic engineer does."

"Yes, I know. What I mean is, how can you be embarrassed about stumbling
in something so simple as a line in a play when you so boldly set out
to make all this?" She gestured around her.

"Brieanna, I did not make all this. These trees, that grass, the mountain,
are all just natural products, spread out after they were imported from
Terra. As for the sentients, well, they're... You know, sometimes you
are a pain, especially for a prison warden."

"I've told you, you can leave anytime you want."

"Yeah, right, and where am going to go? Walk forever?"

"You could. I know your capabilities."

"Oh, thanks. Look, can I watch the rest of the play?"

"Oh, sorry. Sure, go ahead."

I hit the PAUSE button and the play resumed. We watched in silence,
and when the play was over, we parted in silence, as well.



Captivity, Week 12.

It's snowing out again. The snow is now feet deep, and getting to my
latest project is a task and a half unto and of itself. I decided that,
to stave off the insanity that boredom brings, it was time to work on
the Shirow armor.

Well, damn, I hate Shirow designs! All right, so the mel is talented
beyond words when it comes to conceptual designs in powered armor. But,
hell, that doesn't mean maintaining one of these hunks of garbage is
any fun.

The first thing was to check the PFusion tubes. The compression rods were
intact, and there was a reservoir, so, assuming I could reassemble the
parts accurately, I could get full power into the suit. So that was first.

Disassembled the power plant, tried to fix the reaction chamber. Okay,
so, after examining the thing, I find the muon reactor is trash. Great.
Biggest problem is getting a laser and carbon short for this thing.

Found the laser. Oh, well, no more Shakespeare. Disassembled the
laserdisc player. PFusions plants don't need a whole lot of laser power,
just something to start the ionization process that contributes to muon
release. As for the carbon short, well, there's one less floodlight on
the outside of the house. Broke it to get the carbon rod. Spent hours
with a micrometer and a nailfile getting it to the right size.

Reassembled the whole mess, hoping against the odds that everything was
right. Eventually, the hydrogen nuclei would fuse. Hopefully.

In the mean time, I was feeding power to the suit through a disassembled
power receiver I stole from some servobot. The garage is also cold as
a seal's teat, but that's okay. I've got some heavy clothing.

Computer's okay, but the memory's wiped. Means I'm going to have to write
some serious learnbydoing routines and then try to maneuver in a suit
that doesn't want to maneuver.

Made a kiln, too, to compress the ceramics I needed for the outer hull
of the thing. Also spent a few hours sewing a new harness.

All in all, it took me about four weeks of heavy, constant physical work
to get it nearly done. I walked out with a small lasertape player and
proceeded to feed my new software routines into the computer through an
interface in the main cabin. First mistake.

Second mistake was kneeling across the upper arm section. See, Shirow
armor has four arms; Each pair on a side responds according to the way
you move your arms inside the lower set; Those are more heavily shielded,
but they slide open to expose your hands if you want to do delicate work;
In this case the upper arms are rotated out of the way. The upper arms are
for combat, like picking up and throwing cars and other suits of armor.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, if I keep referring to this thing as
a 'suit' don't be put out; truth is, the damn thing's a vehicle, three
meters tall. That it's vaguely shaped like a man has nothing to do with
its classification.

In any event, the program went in rather quietly and I hit the red
reboot button to bring the processor online. The upper right arm
shuddered underneath me, and pain exploded across my right leg and my
chest. I went flying until I hit the wall of the garage, where my left
shoulder and head received equal treatment. Then I fell to the ground,
doing just a little more damage to my already hurting body.

After a few seconds of intense concentration, I looked up. The right arm
had slammed against the ground, and was shuddering violently. Damn. I
tried to right myself. I was suddenly very hot, and I felt something
wet against my cheek. Great, my head was bleeding. I got into a sitting
position, only to realize... Oh, shit, at least three ribs are floating
free. I'm a mess. I suddenly noticed how much it hurt to breathe.

But I kept breathing. I'm damned cussed about something like breathing;
I've discovered I'm rather fond of it. I found, to my pleasure, that
I hadn't penetrated the lung lining; Cardiovascular system was still
intact. Great.

So what did this mean? I could wait until Brieanna noted that I hadn't
shown up for dinner. Not really an option. I could think of a dozen nasty
things that could happen before then, not the least of which was losing
bladder control. Never mind; that's already happened.

That's when I heard Brieanna; She was heading for her horses, probably
to exercise them. I gathered my breath; Oh, Gods! that hurt! and shouted,
once "Brie!" The effort made my head spin.

I heard her shout back, but I didn't understand the words. I heard her
footsteps crunch a little closer through the snow, and I heard her say,
"Ken?"

"Brieanna?" I panted, barely above a whisper.

She must not have heard me, as she came closer. "Ken? Are you okay?" She
must have been right outside.

"Brieanna? I'm hurt." Now that's an understatement.

She opened the side door, and when she saw how much of a mess I was,
she ran to my side. "Don't touch me, yet!" I screamed.

"What?"

I coughed. "Broke...broke a few ribs. Maybe a leg, maybe the shoulder.
Definitely concussed; don't let me pass out. Talk... talk to me." I hacked
again, but no blood came up. I was at least somewhat intact, internally.

"Stay right here." She was suddenly businesslike. It occurred to me that
whoever set her here had made sure she was qualified to keep me alive,
if I so chose. So she had to have medical training.

She disappeared out into the snow, and returned in about eight long
minutes, with two of her maintenance units.

"I'm going to load you onto a stretcher." And she did, with me screaming
in absolute agony. She ignored me. They trundled me towards the mansion,
I assume. I don't know. Somewhere along the way, despite my warning to
her, I passed out anyway.

So much for my theory.



When I awoke, I was indeed in a different room, and an IV was in my arm,
with a couple of bags hanging from it. How quaint, I thought, IV. My ribs
were wrapped, and I was doped to the gills on some sort of painkiller,
probably a somewhat addictive opiate.

Wonderful. After I get out of bed, I get to go through withdrawal. I
thanked Osiris that I'm not the addictive type personality. I checked
my motion.

Great. I've got my right arm. And that's about it.

I sat and contemplated my condition. What was I going to do in my present
condition? And where was I?

Well, the scent of place told me I was in the mansion, still, so
my medical emergency hadn't gotten me out of whatever prison it was
intended to be. But, there was a strong presence of Brieanna's here,
so I assumed I was in one of her private rooms.

That's when I saw it. I'd been avoiding the idea for sometime. But there
on the table was a cyberinterface net, but not one like I use; this one
was an induction cybercyber link. Brieanna was an android.

That's impossible. You can make AI's that size, and you can stuff them
into android bodies that are virtually indistinguishable from human,
but there are always things that give an android away.

Like their scent. Can't make an android smell exactly like a human, no
way, no how, not yet. Like their body temperature. I'd seen Brieanna's
IR signature once, through a rifle scope I'd been tinkering with (No, I
did NOT point a rifle at Brieanna), and she was human. Even a 'chassis'
type design tends to be too cool to be perfect, and a 'chassis' breath
is never even close. Like her aura. I'll never be a competent mage; it's
too much effort and tech can do ninetynine percent of what magic can,
so why bother? But I knew enough; she was human.

So what was that link for? My mysterious savior? Unlikely; I was convinced
that this was a plot by Dave, Carroll and Paul. An agent? Why bother,
Brieanna could just make her own reports?

So what was the damned link for? I decided it wasn't worth bothering
about in my doped condition, and fell back into dark slumber.



When I awoke, a few hours later, I was pleased to find my warden sitting
on the bed next to me. "Hi," I managed to croak.

"Hi yourself. You had me frightened."

"Thanks. I guess it'd have been bad to lose your best prisoner."

"You're still bitter about being here."

"No, not really. Just the drugs, the pain, and the frustration talking.
I'm sorry, Brie, but it hurts like Hell to be slammed up against the
wall by a Shirow PAPA." Personal Assault Powered Armor.

"I imagine. Well, I'll tell you the prognosis, above and beyond the fact
that you're going to live. You broke four ribs, and I had to set one
surgically, so under that wrap is a lot of scarring, but in your case
that'll fade away. The right leg is also shattered, and it's set as well.
The ceramics are chemically coded, so I can take them out almost at will,
but you'll be needing them for a few weeks, at least. The shoulder is also
torn up, but not so bad. You should have both arms back in about a week.
In the mean time, you sit right where you are."

"And where am I?" I asked.

"The bedroom next to mine. I've moved your stuff down, and I've given
Drac a limited set of instructions to follow to your voice."

"Thanks" I said, dryly. That the SI she had responded only to her
annoyed me.

"I've got my reasons. It's violating my parameters just to give you
control of one maintenance unit. But I figure this is an emergency. I'd
hate for you to be bedridden AND bored, and I've got work of my own
to do."

"Brieanna." I reached out to touch her, but she was out of reach.

"Hmm?"

"I won't ask what your work is, you probably won't tell me. But, thank
you. In your own special way, you're doing a great job."

She smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate that. Now get some sleep." She rose. "Or
at least, settle down and accept the fact that you're going to be in
there for a few weeks."

"I will."

"Bye."



"Hi," Brieanna said as she walked in.

"Hi yourself."

"Feeling better?"

"Well, it's nice to have both arms working. I can turn pages by myself
now."

She smiled. "That's good. What 'ya reading?"

"The Art of Professional Homicide, by Gurney Halleck."

"Oh. Planning on killing someone?"

"Who is there to kill? You? Would that do me any good?"

She shrugged. "Would it make you feel any better?"

"I sort of doubt it. You've been good to me, for a warden."

She smiled then, untroubled apparently at my repeated attempts to jibe
her by comparing her present career to that of a jailer. "Anyway," she
continued, "I brought you something you might like to try your hand at."

"What?"

She reached into the small duffel she'd carried in and deposited in my
lap a... "A flute? What's this for?"

"Well, you told me you liked Ian Anderson, so I figured while you were
bedridden like this, you might appreciate a chance to at least play
with one."

"Brie, I told you... I have absolutely no musical skill whatsoever.

"I heard you playing Chariots of Fire on the piano a few weeks ago. That's
not no skill!"

"Oh come on..."

"Listen to me. That's not an easy piece. I've looked at it, and it's in
DMinor, not an easy key."

"Oh, yes it is. Vangelis only uses four different chords, and as for
the key, it's every white key slid down to it's next black key, except
for F and C."

"And you say you have no musical skill. Listen to you. You're talking
about it in a musician's way. Of course you can learn music. You just
never put any effort into it."

"But..." She's patronizing me.

"Ken, I don't give a damn if you never touch that thing again. But at
least, give it a try."

"Okay."

"Promise."

"No, and I will not let you listen to me make a fool of myself."

"Even after you told me all those wonderful jokes?"

"Even then. That was performance; this is practice. Besides, doing that
sort of thing comes easy to me; I'm auretic, and gestures come easily,
so doing skits like that is easy."

"Okay. I'll come by and see you later?"

"Sure."

Why in God's name had I told her I like Anderson? Because he's a great
musician, with a hell of a talent? I picked up the flute and began to
fiddle with it. I managed a squeak.



She walked in the next day to look in on her charge, and I was feeling
a little better. Hadn't gotten much of anyplace with the flute, but at
least I was figuring out what notes went where. The damned thing was
complicated. Whoever invented the thing should be slowroasted.

What she wore when she entered really piqued my interest. She came in
wearing what looked like mutant riding boots and an electric guitar.

"What's all that?" I asked.

"This? This is my practice gear. I'm learning guitar. There are speakers
in the boots so I can hear."

"You're kidding."

"No, really." You know, I'm rather fond of her soft southern accent all
of a sudden.

She distracted me again by hitting a riff on the guitar. Whoa. Those
little speakers in her boots put out a lot of sound. She hit a few dials
that I was unfamiliar with on the guitar and dropped both the buzz and
the volume, until it was at a civilized level, and proceeded to play a
few things for me.

"Well?" she asked.

"Not bad. Certainly a lot better than I am. Guitar is not my instrument."

"Is the flute?"

"I doubt it. It's not a keyboard instrument. But I'll work at it.

"I could bring the Korg in here."

"Naah. Let me play with this thing before I retreat into the simplicity
of a synthesizer," I said.

She shrugged. "Okay, your choice. Tell me, though," she said, changing
the subject, "are you planning on working on the armor when you're well?"

"I don't see why not. Why shouldn't I?"

"Well, it almost killed you this time."

"I'll be more careful."

She sat down on the bed next to me, and covered my hand gently with hers.
"I worry about you."

I looked away. "It's your job."

"No, it's not! Look at me. I'm your... your whatever you want to call
me, Jailer, Healer, whatever. But I do it because it's what I am, not
because I'm hired or because of any damned sense that I need quote the
allfather unquote."

Looking into her eyes, I realized the one last straw was gone; there
was no way in hell she was anything else than human. She was also about
to cry. I made the classic "come here" gesture with my hand, and when I
could, I grabbed the blouse she was wearing with my hand and pulled her
towards me, until she was about two cm from my face. She looked into my
eyes with a momentary confusion, and then, realizing what I was doing,
descended on me, kissing me.

Our tongues met, and hers was soft and kind to mine as we danced in each
others' mouth, and I was lost in the pleasure of the kiss for as long
as it went on. Which was quite a while.

After what felt like a long time that was too short anyway, she broke
away. "Why'd you do that?"

I shrugged, felt ribs settle painfully. "Because I wanted to."

"Did you really?" She asked, her eyes full of both nervousness and
wonderment.

"Yeah..." I smiled. "Yes, I did. You're a good kisser."

"You're not angry towards me, then?"

"I haven't been angry with you in a while. I just didn't want to get
intimate with my warden."

"Oh." She gathered up her guitar.

"Hey, where are you going?" I asked.

"I need... I'd like to attend to some other things. I'll be back later."
She left hurriedly.

Damn. I wanted to be with her a little longer. She's probably left to
report to her coconspirators. Leaving me frustrated.

She's a damned good kisser. And what in hell am I going to do with an
erection on the wrong side of a lowerbody cast?




Original document is available from:
drizzle/~elf/journals

The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are 19892000 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Distribution limited
to electronic media notforprofit use only. All other rights are reserved
to the author.

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