A sharp light sparked through Francis’s eyelids. It jolted through his mind, down his neck, his chest, and to his rump, lifting him, as if raising him from the grave itself, to slam his head against the roof of the car. The soft felt did well to soften the blow, but, given how the fiberglass frame squawked, he had a feeling there would be a nipple on its cabin now. All because of one, sleepy boob.
Francis groaned, and blinked away the remnants of that bolt, glowering to the door to the left. Sunlight wormed its way between his driver and the opening, slapped shut by the butt of her staff, showing they were back at the apartments. He yawned, taking that bit of sunshine on his tongue, scorching the vile, sticky slag that had settled there as he rested, and, finally, threw his door open- catching his notes before the breeze took them away. It might have been a better fate for them, given how his claws sunk through, but that’s why he had Bridget... along with other reasons.
Francis climbed out of the cabin- and was forced to stretch by his body. The ungrateful host that it was, slowing him down before he could go to a real bed; it was only three flights away. Then it could sprawl out –perhaps with a certain redhead in his arms... or... was that pushing it too far?
A bit late wondering that, he thought, and chuckled- lost to another yawn!
“Dammit, Francis,” Penny muttered, yawning after. Which only made Francis- then her again. It was a game of hot potato as the two climbed the steps, but, in the end, Francis won because he jumped the last flight, leaving her with the bogey. The poor railing screeched, groaned, but held as he rolled over its top, finding his feet. He picked himself up, dusted off his rear, and pulled out his phone.
“Now let me just-” He began, thumb swiping to Bridget’s name.
“You two took quite the detour,” the devil said right in his ear, making him yelp. And jump. She tittered- but gasped, catching his phone for him. “Oh dear. That would have been bad, though I suppose it’s better than the alternative.”
She pointed to his other hands... and what was left of the notes. He eased open those claws, and the ribbons glided away, little more than confetti, twirling on the soft wind of fall. But it was more than Fall now. He could feel the nip of winter, see the small crystals beginning to form and flow in those gales. Snow was on the horizon.
“Just hold on until after Halloween,” he mumbled.
“What was that?” Bridget said, lacing her arm through his.
“Simply commenting on the weather. Winter’s coming... along with that evil S-word.”
“Eh? Evil S-w... you mean sn-”
“Yes! Don’t even mention it. It’s just dying to be noticed, but fuck it... Fuck it!”
“I don’t know... I like the sn- fluffy rain.”
“Have you ever had to sleep in an alleyway?”
“Then you don’t know the terror of waking up one morning to find a dead, naked homeless man trying to spoon you for some iota of warmth. You don’t understand the fear of being buried in a snowdrift after a snow truck passes by and waking up feeling like you’re drowning.”
“Huh. I never gave it any thought... You really need to talk more about your past instead of springing these on people. I’m just saying...” She giggled, and nuzzled his arm as they entered his bedroom. “So, do you mind me being naked?”
“You do you. I just wanted to cuddle.” He yawned again, throwing his muumuu as he did, then had her unwind from him as he pulled off his sweats. He shook them off, leg at a time, then clambered into the bed and under the blankets, holding them up for Bridget to do the same. She took her time to strip, giving him a show of it, but he was more tired than aroused. He would deal with it in the morning, but, he couldn’t lie: she was that perfect body type. Not thin, plenty of meat, but not obese. Toned, but still soft, with breasts that complemented rather than seem to impose. She jiggled in all the right places, a perfect wave from toe, to thigh and rear, to her sides, her tits, and her arms.
She climbed into his embrace, sighing against his chest, wrapping her arms around him.
“It’s been forever since I’ve been held like this,” she said, rubbing her nose against his chest... before giving it a kiss. She looked up, and gave his lips one as well, beaming at him. “So I guess I should thank you for allowing me this gift.”
“Again, no big. We’ve had five dates in your eyes-”
“Even more if you count your outings with Cassidy.”
“I’m not, though, since, you know, those were DATES with Cass.”
“Ah, but I was there too.” She sung, but her lilt turned to a yawn, mumbling against his chest as she threw a leg over his hip. “I wouldn’t mind making this routine, though. You’re... very nice to hold.”
It didn’t take long for Francis to return to the aether he had been so rudely pulled out of initially. Now that he was back, he drifted along, letting the stream of consciousness guide his way. He wished he had a boat, but that would imply he had a form of being at that moment. As it stood, he was but a speck lost upon a cosmic wind, traversing the cosmos and beyond. You know, like the world his physical body rested upon, being whipped at millions of miles an hour around a burning ball of gas with eight other significant heavenly bodies, each with their own satellites, all lost in an arm of a galaxy on the outer limits of an ever-expanding universe that all lead back to one, dark spot. Time no longer had meaning in that respect. Meaning no longer had meaning in that respect; he was meaningless, form was meaningless. Being was meaningless, and it was good.
But there was always a downside to everything, and it finally happened. He finally dreamed again. While in the embrace of a wonderful woman, finally able to truly relax, a horrible vision crept into his mind once more, a memory. It continued where the previous mostly ended, after he he settled into Eve’s. He was so... shy back then- no. Shy wasn’t the word. He was...
Eve seemed so nice. She released him from custody, promised him a better life from thereon... but nothing came without a hitch. He had kept his guard up the entire ride to her estate –what he thought was her estate at the time. It was still on the outskirts of that meat farm, but seemed more believable for a trillionaire to live than where he would be shuttled a month after and know as home. It was... it was a palace, for lack of a better term –to him at least. It was large, gaudy, had more windows than actual brick, and was at the top of a hill. Along with a forty car garage, all behind a brick wall with bright white gates.
She idled before that garage, its doors a soft cream color, looking almost calm, if not bored. A stark contrast to the fuming, jumpy, nigh feral drachen beside her. The entire drive up, he looked for a place he could tear through the door and roll down, but no matter which direction he looked there was nothing but greenery. He would be caught if not worse in no time. Now, behind a wall, a gate, and entering a garage, his options were becoming even more limited.
That was until the lights warmed in it.
“What the fuck?” He exclaimed, looking upon the rows upon rows of vehicles. He repeated it again as the car, the cherry red land yacht that it was, rolled by those pieces of history, lined up in chronological order, with the newest being from the late 80′s. He said it for the third- then fourth time as they went down a ramp in the back, spiraling to another layer where a single spot was open, waiting for that red beauty.
She backed it in, turned it off, then snapped her fingers at him.
“I know you will be talking like that,” she said, “but please keep it to a minimum around me.”
“Whatever,” he grumbled, but motioned to all the cars. Ignored as she climbed out. He growled, insulted that a mere woman would dare do so, and slammed the door shut as he got out. “Hey!”
“Please do mind. That is authentic. The fourth off the belt... It’s all impressive, no? I had a long time to build my collection. My favorite is that silver one over there. An XK120. I have a lot of fond memories in that one.”
“I bet you do.” All two weeks of driving it. Fucking rich people. He sighed, and rolled his wrist. “Okay. What now?”
“Well, we’ll head up to the estate, get you acquainted with the staff, then-”
“That’s when you strip me down and fuck me silly, right?”
She guffawed, waving his way, again angering and insulting him.
“Don’t be absurd. I have no such desire-”
He growled and lunged at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. The only part that wasn’t covered. The rest of her was hidden behind a deep, blue dress, while her arms and legs were covered in black gloves and boots. Making her orange skin all the more tantalizing to grip.
“But I do,” he said, and tried to dig his fingers in- hissing- howling as her “blood” seeped out. He reeled back, and looked down at his hands. At the dark goop hissing and eating away on them. His blood ran cold, contrasting that molten ichor still burning away his digits, and his hair stood on end as he looked up at Eve. “What the-”
“Language,” she said, wiping her shoulders. He couldn’t even see where his nails dug in anymore, and she still looked so bored. “Literally a step above a wild animal. We’ll have a lot to work through before September.”
“Why? W... what’s happening in September?”
She tittered, and her eyes flashed, smiling at him.
“It’s as I promised. We’re going to make you a proud member of society again. True society; my society... our society.”
“Y...you’re nuts! You’re f-”
“You’re insane! Why are you speaking in riddles? Just tell me what you plan to do already so I can make a break for it and your little game can begin.”
“My, you have quite the imagination... No. There’s no game. All I am expecting of you... is to go to school.”
Francis wasn’t sure what to say to that, so, instead, shut his mouth. The heat on his hands wasn’t so bad anymore, and he slid the into his pockets, following this... this nutter up the ramp and out of the normal door of the garage into the estate. And that’s when he first laid eyes on... Her.
On Nicole... She seemed so... sweet at the time. Even as Francis was laughing in her face. He only laughed harder as more midgets seemingly painted green came out to meet them in the entry, which was little more than a pair of crystal double doors and a bit of tile before an ocean of redwood.
“Oh man. You are f-” Francis began, and winced as Eve actually slapped the back of his head.
“Lan. Guage. I gave you three, young man, but while under my roof and in my presence you will watch your tongue... Francis, this is Nicole. She is the senior member of my workers. Think of her their boss. Nicole, this is Francis Ulrich Conner. He will be staying with us from henceforth.”
“Ah, ye finally have a new son, mistress?” Nicole said, and guffawed as she held out her hand to Francis. “Well, it’s nice te meetcha, laddie.”
“Right,” he said, shaking her hand, but feared some of her green paint would wear off. “So how much does she pay you to wear that stuff?”
“Eh? This outfit?” She gestured to those leather cords she “wore”. They barely even covered her nips let alone the pubic mound below –which he had to give credit; dying from head-to-literal-toe green? That’s dedication. “This is my traditional garb.”
“I thought the Scottish wore kilts. Not bondage attire, but I was mostly talking about that horrid hue soaked into your skin.”
She blinked... and looked to Eve.
“He doesn’t know, does he?”
“He really doesn’t,” Eve answered, and sighed as she tapped his arm. “Francis, this will be your first lesson and your introduction... These are goblins.”
“Goblins... As in little monsters?” He... he guffawed, and slapped his own forehead. “Dear Christ, you are messed up! The rich really are all insane. You literally make them believe they are goblins?”
“There’s nothing to believin’, div!” Nicole said, stamping her foot. “We are goblins.”
“Wow. She must be paying you real well... Here. Let me prove it.” He licked his thumb and started to smear away the paint on her cheek... any minute... it was really worked in t- She slapped his hand away... and he finally noticed her ears. And their three tips. As were all the others. He finally saw their eyes, and noticed they weren’t colored contacts. He had a hunch they might have been fake, given the one that wore glasses, but he could not see a single line against those bright purples and pinks and ambers. Nor any line in some of the black they were in rather than white sclera. “Y... you must be sh- kidding me. Kidding... You really... really are g... goblins?”
“Yes. We are.”
“But h... Oh, Eve. Have you played God? Did you make them!”
“Not these, no.”
His heart sank, and his legs began to tremble. Every part of him tensed as he chanced a glance back at the door. It was still open. He could run for it and avoid this... this... Isle of Dr. Moreau wannabee. He would sooner go to jail than be a part of this sick experi-
“What’s the matter, laddie? Ye look like someone walked over yer grave,” the abomination said before him- exclaimed as he tried to bolt to the door.
“Stop.” Eve stated. It was no louder than how she spoke normally, but there was an air to it. The tone changed so subtly, but it sank into his bones, drenching them as that dual voice pierced through. He stumbled, rolled across the tile, but managed to find his feet before the door. He was panting, his body covered in a cold sweat, and his eyes wide, staring into Eve’s as she stared back. Reminding him of that bull shark so long ago.
She approached him, her steps even, her gait slow yet wide. Her hands, her arms were folded before her, as if locked together as she loomed ever closer, while her face was set like stone. Every part of him screamed to ignore her, to just run, run and don’t look back. He could jump that wall or, if needed, claw up the gate and over. He could sprint down the hill, run through the green. He didn’t even need to breathe. He didn’t need to rest. He could find a new town, claim it as his own, and not worry about this... this LUNACY a moment lon-
“Settle.” She commanded, and, again, his whole body was pierced by that dual-tone. It wasn’t as if she was yelling, nor was she whispering, but her voice was all and none at once. She sighed, and gestured to those... THINGS. “You have lived a long life in the shadows. To both the human world... and your true world.”
She folded her arms again, and gave him a hard look.
“You were sloppy, though. Careless... Did you really think you weren’t being watched?”
“I... I always figured I was,” he managed to say, stammering the entire way. “Too lucky at times. Far too lucky... Was it you?”
“For your time as a drug-runner? No. It wasn’t until your exodus to the far corner of Pennsylvania that it sparked Our interest.”
“‘Our’? Just who are you- what are you- what is all this!”
She smiled, and took his hands. “Your rebirth...”
Thankfully, that was the end of the dream. For now, he thought, and huffed as he covered his arm with his eyes... finding them empty. He was on his back in the bed, with no one clinging to his chest.
But he knew he wasn’t alone.
His other senses caught up to him as he stirred, the first being hearing. And he heard the soft moans and pants and slurps, the soft rustle of the blanket at his waist. Next was smell, where the room reeked of his lust... and another. Feeling was the third, and it struck him the hardest, washing him with pleasure before jolting the rest of him awake with spikes of it, all coursing back to that throbbing member being assailed.
A moan escaped... and a giggle thrummed against his rod. He lifted the cover and saw Bridget between his legs. Her breasts were pressed around his member, while her lips were closed on its tip, still lapping and sucking on it as he made eye contact. They smiled at him, gleamed in the dusk, then closed again as she plunged down on it, moving her chest up it, covered in pre.
Now that he was awake, though, she showed no mercy. Her moans, her pants became so loud, so fast. She gulped hard, harder on that head, letting more of his rod slip inside her as her chest pushed harder, squeezing it so dearly. His spine tingled under the attack, and his hips thrust against his will, thrusting faster and deeper until, with one, sudden grunt, he filled her mouth. She gasped as she popped off, and squeaked as it caught her in the eye before the rest erupted between her chest, pressing it against him. The last few streams coated his pecs, licked clean as she lapped up his body. To his lips.
As she straddled him.
She moaned into his mouth, her breath so hot, reeking of his love, and some of it was left as she swallowed the rest, giggling. She wiped his lip, taking one last taste of him. Her legs, her hips squeezed against him, letting him feel the heat coming from her folds.
“Good morning, darling,” she said, and moaned as something sharp dug into his twitching mast. “You were throbbing against me all night. I couldn’t resist anymore.”
“You don’t hear me complaining,” he mumbled, already out of breath, and gasped as she did, his lips taken again as she kissed him. Her hips rocked more, the room filled with the soft sounds of those folds sliding along his rod, settling as she freed him.
“I know you’re not sure of being Mister Right yet, but do you mind if I ride you like this?” She threw the blanket aside, and leaned back as she sat up. Her breasts peaked in the cool air, softly steaming from the load still dribbling down her middle, shaken down by her thrusts. He looked down and saw his member pointing at him, forced there by her quivering, shimmering folds. The little bud at the top throbbed more than his member, digging in with each slide down. “The Japanese have a name for this but... it feels so... g... good.”
“Again. You don’t hear me com... compl...”
He moaned again, his head lulling back as she slid up and down his member. His hands rose and found her hips, gripping them. They prickled under his touch, normally so soft, now shivering under his grasp. Bridget hissed and reached for them, pulling them up to her breasts, to those begging nips. She whimpered, sighed, and cried out as he played with them, as he pulled and tugged and teased.
“Oh God,” she whispered, repeated again as she leaned over him again, burying his face in her chest. She held him, panting harder than before as she thrust against, and it wasn’t long before the bed was hitting the wall. It seemed to slide across the room, slamming again and again, harder and harder and harder. At least, that’s what it felt like to Francis. For being a virgin, she knew how to “ride” a- “Oh fuck! Oh G- oh f- oh G-”
She screamed as her folds splashed on his member- and that was enough to get him to shoot again. It shot up onto her chest, her belly, splashing down upon him as she kept rubbing against, turning it into a froth while her wails only rose. Even as she kissed him. Her tongue stole his, holding it hostage, wringing it as she filled his lungs with those primal screams before unleashing them for the second. Then the third, the fourth; by the time she quieted, her voice croaked, and her legs were done. She lapped at his face, whispering her love, all the while one, last load washed in between them, sticking them together.
She hummed after a while, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes... and kissed him again.
“I can’t wait for our date this weekend,” she said. “Can you?”
“Cannot. Complain,” he repeated, and rolled his eyes as she kissed him, ushering in the dusk of a new day at last.