Podcasts about wiggling

If you've ever tried leading a Zoom call while your screen goes black mid-sentence, you know the feeling of being out of control. That's how many of us feel about our finances right now—like we're one loose cable away from a crash. But here's the truth: financial control is closer than you think. And in today's global economy, understanding how tariffs impact your wallet is one of the most important steps you can take toward that control. https://www.youtube.com/live/h01G_m8bLZ8 Tariffs aren't just political decisions or international trade policy. They're reflections of how governments try to create balance—or power—in global commerce. But more importantly, they create real ripple effects that reach your dinner table, your savings account, your job, and your family's financial future. This blog unpacks what's often misunderstood and overly politicized: how tariffs actually impact you, and what you can do about it. Loose Cords and Loose MarketsWhy Tariffs Are a Bigger Deal Than You RealizeWhat Is a Tariff, Really?The Global Game: Who's Tariffing Whom?How Tariffs Impact Your Wallet: The Ripple Effect on Main StreetWhy Infinite Banking Matters More Than EverAddiction to Consumption: The Root ProblemCapital is King: The Real Asset You NeedWhat This Means for YouGo DeeperBook A Strategy Call Loose Cords and Loose Markets I (Rachel) kicked off our latest podcast battling a finicky laptop cord, and Bruce teased me about Lucas not fixing it for years. It was a funny moment, but it carried deeper meaning. Because isn't that how most people treat their finances? Wiggling a connection, hoping the lights come back on, but never really fixing the root issue. That feeling of financial "blinking out" is more common than you think—especially when tariffs and stock markets are headlining the news. You hear phrases like "trade war," "GDP contraction," or "market instability," and panic starts to creep in. But that's why Bruce, Joe, and I sat down—to pull back the curtain and bring clarity to the chaos. Why Tariffs Are a Bigger Deal Than You Realize Tariffs aren't just a headline. They directly affect your cost of living, your investment portfolio, the strength of the business you work for, and even the longevity of your retirement plan. It's all connected. We broke down what tariffs really are, why they're used, and how to navigate them strategically so you can: Stay calm in market turbulence Make empowered financial decisions with real data Build real, generational stability that transcends market noise If you're wondering how tariffs impact your wallet, you're not alone. You're also not powerless. Understanding is the first step to taking action. What Is a Tariff, Really? Joe reminded us that tariffs are nothing new. They're simply taxes imposed on imported goods. Historically, they funded the U.S. government before income taxes ever existed. That's how essential they once were. There are three main types: Per-unit tariffs Percentage-based tariffs Compound tariffs They can seem like just a cost. But the intent, often, is to level the playing field when other countries use low-wage labor, environmental shortcuts, or subsidies to artificially drive down their prices. Tariffs raise the cost of those goods to reflect what they would cost if they were made under more equal conditions. So when people ask, "Why pay more?" the better question might be: "What are you supporting when you choose cheap?" The Global Game: Who's Tariffing Whom? The global playing field isn't level. Most countries impose heavy tariffs on U.S. exports, while the U.S. has traditionally kept the door open wide. For instance, Australia sold $29 billion in beef to the U.S., but the U.S. sold zero to Australia due to their sky-high tariffs. Our market welcomes their goods, but they protect theirs from ours. That creates a one-way street—and it impacts more than foreign relations. It hits U.S.

Send us a textThis episode merges the light-hearted exploration of ear wiggling with insightful discussions on human-animal interactions and ethical considerations within archaeology. We discover how our ear muscles connect to hearing and how animal encounters, like at zoos, drive donations. The conversation also addresses the importance of repatriation in archaeology, encouraging listeners to reflect on the stories we tell and the voices we include.• Overview of ear wiggling and its evolutionary significance • Link between ear muscles and hearing capabilities • Study highlighting the influence of animals in zoo donation strategies • Guest interview with Rachel Paul on NAGPRA and the ethics of repatriation • Emphasis on the need for inclusive dialogues in scientific researchLinks to Support Us!Join the Paw Pack!Our Website!www.bunsenbernerbmd.comSign up for our Weekly Newsletter!Bunsen and Beaker on Twitter:Bunsen and Beaker on TikTokSupport the showFor Science, Empathy, and Cuteness!Being Kind is a Superpower.https://twitter.com/bunsenbernerbmd

Wiggling ears, Broken hearts, Left-handed life, Zombie spiders, Re-growing teeth, Iceless polar bears, Translation prizes. Jennifer, Way, and Bradley discuss the curated links for the week of 2/7/2025. Please consider supporting this ad-free content on Patreon.

Taliyah.Based on a post by FinalStand, in 13 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. By lunchtime, she was beginning to feel somewhat selfish. Mikhail had been attentive with a totally unexpected devotion all morning long. While Taliyah was emotionally conflicted about her parent's most recent feuding, it was systematic of a much deeper rift she'd always felt among them. She'd always sensed it; as if something was missing in their lives.To be honest with herself, at first she'd been secretly pleased when Brandy's home life had imploded last summer. Not only had she found herself lusting for Darius over Rashaan, she'd long been envious of the seeming closeness between Big Bob and Jodi May. She'd felt furtive elation when Brandy's mom eloped with Senior Deputy Jenks, shattering the illusion of their happy household.Only later, as she saw the daily sadness in Big Bob, had she begun to regret her envy-driven vindictiveness. Unlike her own, rather distant Father, Big Bob Carson had always made Taliyah welcome in his home and with his daughter. His treatment of her had never jibed with the claims about the White man's supposed racism. In her home, they joked about him, yet she'd never heard Big Bob make a single racist slur in her presence.No, Brandy's Dad had treated her like his second daughter; even going so far to call out Brandy when she was being a bitch to her. As far back as elementary school, he'd made her feel as if Taliyah had a second house to call home; and then Taliyah had repaid his repeated kindness by taking perverse pleasure as his home fell apart. She'd watched Brandy fall into depravity under Darius' spell and said nothing.Taliyah wondered about the vagaries of karma. Brandy's family had been ripped apart and now so was hers. Brandy had found Vlad and now she had Mikhail. This morning, Brandy's mom had come back; and her Mom was here as well. But her Father was nowhere in evidence. Her Mother, Madam Mayor, hadn't mentioned him once.‘Taliyah,' Kaelyne disturbed her ruminations, ‘we're picking sides for volleyball.'Kaelyne was another transformative presence who had snuck into her life as of late. Her knee-jerk reaction when learning the little White girl had a lesbian crush on her was to lash out and mock her. That had infuriated Mrs. Samsonov, pain had rapidly followed. That old White bitch had forced Taliyah to apologize the next day.Over the rest of the following week Taliyah had found herself studying the way Kaelyne looked at her; and hadn't been repulsed. Still, until today she hadn't taken the lesbian's affections seriously. Kaelyne was sensitive to Taliyah's pain and~ compassionate without being obtrusive. Taliyah had responded with a lessening of her often acidic wit.With Brandy taking on solo duties as hostess, Taliyah had been able to recoup in the company of her boyfriend; and 'girlfriend'; thus the source of her guilt. According to Mrs. Samsonov's plan, Brandy and Taliyah had to share their guys with the rest of the Cheer Squad over the course of the day.From what they'd been told, it would keep the cheerleaders firmly out of the hands of the Football Team and other member of the 'Cult of the BBC'; as that racist, psychotic bitch, Gayle Samsonov, called it. And, from what Taliyah and Brandy could see, it made all the ones who had been with their fellas so far want them and only them; it was spooky and somewhat frustrating to watch because Mikhail was her man, damn it!Not in the way Rashaan had been her man because Rashaan hadn't even been his own man, just another pawn of Darius Pope's little high school empire; like her and Brandy. Maybe that was why she was so drawn to the youngest triplet's fierce independence. He was harder to influence than Rashaan had been; which wasn't quite so.She could, in private, convince Rashaan to do things, plan things and stand up for himself, but all the results of her efforts evaporated when he was around Darius; and now she realized that would always be the case for someone like Rashaan. He was good looking and could project leadership, but there was never anything behind it. No drive. No great willpower to overcome any real opposition; and most likely, there never would be.With Mikhail; God! He was so different. Sure he was infuriating, but Taliyah found herself able to cut loose around him; to pop him one when she felt he was doing something stupid; and it wasn't as if he even minded. Oh no, that didn't mean he'd acquiesce, far from it. Normally he'd laugh and evade, taunting her. Yet, that was the way he'd grown up around his brothers and Taliyah was beginning to figure out he was allowing her to treat him the same way; that was was something special.He and his brothers were rough-n-tumble. They had a code for their fighting. While their Code didn't make the inevitable conflicts any less brutal, it at the same time expressed ample fair play, honesty and integrity. And afterwards; there was never any ill will between them. They fought and shit got settled; and Taliyah liked that. That Mikhail allowed her to lay into him was, according to his Mamma, very intimate and personal; and Taliyah was coming to appreciate this fact.‘Mikhail, why don't you and Kaelyne teach my 'Sisters' on the Cheer Squad some manners,' she touched his hand. They were side by side at the counter in the kitchen, him finishing off a few carrot slices while she drank some Gatorade. ‘I need to talk to my Mamma; alone.' Mikhail gave her a brief eye contact, nodded once, and then turned to leave.‘Kaelyne,' she found herself reaching out, stroking the girl's cheek and rubbing her earlobe, ‘Thank you.' The way the smaller woman positively glowed gave Taliyah a spike of pride. She still didn't think she was into girls, but she'd been showering with Brandy since before they were teenagers. A few times Brandy had ran her hands curiously over her darker friend's skin, wishing she tanned so well.In turn, Taliyah had run her hands through Brandy's long, blonde hair, feeling the difference between its silky texture and her own, coarser locks and wishing her hair was so easy to manage. The two girls, lifelong friends, had never considered their behavior anything which 'made them gay'. They were curious and comfortable in each other's presence was all.Taliyah pushed herself away from the counter, turned and dismounted her stool. She'd put up a wall against the World all morning long and she knew she was better than that. She'd wanted her Mother to come and talk to her; to talk to her about her Father; her Mother's husband; and what she was going to do about fixing things. Her Mamma was always the responsible one in the family and had taught her daughter to be the same way. Somehow; her Mamma had to make this right.Le ‘Pearl' Yates.For Le it had been a wild, chaotic week. Things had started out so bad, but not in a way the other girls in the Cheer Squad would have understood. Monday morning, like most of the others; except Brandy and Taliyah; she had been seriously jonesing for some BBC. Hell, unlike every other member of the squad, getting the best cock was why she'd fought so hard to be selected as one of the school's elite bitches in the first place.She hadn't always been that way.Le had been a late bloomer. Worse, she'd never been part of any crowd while growing up. Her Vietnamese-American Mother had come to Kingston from the Texas Gulf Coast to be a nurse. Her Father, the White guy her Mother married, was an oilman working in the Gulf of Mexico months at the time.He was really happy when his wife told him she was pregnant. His company even flew him to Arkansas when she went into delivery early. Let's just say his reaction when he held 'his' daughter wasn't all that joyous. He divorced her a year later and Le had only seen him a few times since. Things had been; tense.It took her a few years to figure out she wasn't like anyone else. Her Mother's extended family, fisher-folk back in Texas, always treated her badly and the younger ones called her names, which was why her Mom had returned to Kingston after a few years. When she was six, she finally figured out she was a 'half-breed' and not in a 'good way'. No White blood had 'watered' down her complexion.Her eyes were product of her Mother's Vietnamese heritage while her nose was from West Africa. He skin was darker than her Mother's, not lighter, and she was much taller, at 5'9', and a compact 112 lbs. Her ass was 'black enough', but her chest was 'too Asian' as in she clearly had the smallest bra size on the team.At the age of eight she'd finally asked her rather traditional Mother who her 'real' Daddy was. On her twelfth birthday, her Mother, after years of badgering, finally broke down and told Le the story. She'd been 'seduced' by a groundsman on the A S U Kingston campus while her 'White' Daddy had been away for months and months at sea. He'd been a smooth operator, her Mother told her.'But why isn't that man my Father now?' she'd pressed her Mother. She'd graduated to referring to the nebulous sperm donor as Father when she was ten. Her Mother hung her head in shame then confessed the Black bastard hadn't wanted her. When she'd told him she was pregnant with what was most likely his child, he'd seemed happy at first.Only as she got 'bigger', things had changed. One day she stumbled upon him cheating with another nursing student. She'd exploded in tears. After the 'new' girl had fled, he 'confessed' he had yet another girl pregnant and two other kids by two other women; and it was over between them. He dumped her.So, her Mother had prayed somehow Le would be born without her White Father figuring out her betrayal; but that hadn't worked out either. She even gave Le the sperm donor's name, Claude Sexton. It turned out Le had sixteen half-brothers and –sisters (by five different women) and he was currently serving time in prison for pharmaceutical theft. Claude's Mamma, her Granny, claimed he was 'not guilty' and some jealous bitch (usually White in her rantings) had set him up;What had fascinated Le though was the 'why' of her Mother's betrayal of her White 'Father'. The few times she'd met him he'd seemed nice. He had remarried, still made good money and had two other, White, children these days. He had never been cruel to her Mother as far as her Mother had ever revealed; so why had she jumped on some Black cock and risked such a profitable union?At the age of twelve, Le was still gangly and under-developed. Puberty was late to the party. Shortly after her Mom's revelation, she began looking at the Black boys at school differently. They were still going from the phase of teasing and bullying girls (and being teased and bullied by some of the bigger girls) to sending the ladies looks of hungry confusion.No guys ever looked at Le that way back then; but suddenly she wanted them to. When she entered High School, she was 'introduced' to the Cheer Squad / Football Team dynamic. All the hottest Black guys and most beautiful girls (Black and White) belonged to that top social tier; and she had no hope of getting in the way she was.She also had another niggling problem. She was smart and unfortunately, smart girls were Not what those two groups were looking for.But, Le had a Plan. First off, she took up a paper route to make enough money to join the Dance School; because the Cheerleaders always seemed to pick the Hot girls with dance experience; and her Mother couldn't afford to send her with what she made.Secondly, she began purposely getting 25 to 35% of all her homework and test answers wrong. Le had to lower her academic profile starting her freshman year so hopefully no one would remember how smart she had been in Middle School. She added to this deception by telling everyone her name was 'Pearl', even the teachers, and always wearing long pig tails because she thought it fed into the ‘Cutesy' Asian stereotype; and they bought it.Lastly, she began working on her physique and fashion sense to make herself more noticeable to the people who really mattered. Her body's natural development helped. Belatedly her hormones kicked in and her breast began to get bigger. Of equal importance, with all her exercise and dedication her 'lower chasse' began getting the boy's notice. When their eyes finally got to her face, they also noticed how exotically different she was.She enjoyed the first touching; and kissing. She also knew the unspoken rules: Don't be a skank and put out for just anybody. The Football Team only selected the most choice ladies and that included the ones they didn't consider 'total whores'; thus their exclusive property.She lucked out by having Randi Leigh Upshaw befriend her. Randi Leigh's mother had been a cheerleader back in the day and was currently a school booster and member of the PTA. Sure, Randi Leigh was a condescending, manipulative bitch, but she opened doors into social circles which would have been far harder to breach as an outsider.And all that degradation and hard work had paid off when the old Cheer Squad Team Captain handed her a cheer uniform, welcomed her to the team and then introduced her to her first gang-bang. Five long hours afterwards, the smiling Captain gave her a 'Morning After' pill and told her were to go to get her I U D. She'd been taking BBC five / six times a week ever since and loving it; her Mother's infidelity finally understood.Until, for some bizarre reason, Brandy and Taliyah, this year's Co-Captains, had decided to launch an utterly unlooked for and unwanted rebellion against Darius Pope; Football God and one of the best cocks on the team. Le had been blind-sided, as had all of the other cheerleaders. The only two questions were how much hell was Darius going to put those two through for their impertinence and who would end up in the top spot once he was done.But then Darius and six other footballers (including two of the other best cocks in Le's estimation) were destroyed in the school parking lot after a game. Her whole world appeared to crumble and changed. Randi Leigh; idiotically; threw herself at Rashaan as if he could somehow assume Darius' mantle. Le initially supported her because at least Randi Leigh promised a return to the glorious days of orgies and bukkake cum baths.Wednesday morning, it hadn't taken a telepath, or that guy from Psych, to figure out something serious had happened to both Randi Leigh and Sultana (the other challenger). Randi Leigh couldn't even keep Betty Jo Sterling (her other supporter) in line and poor Betty Jo was easily amused by a laser pointer and kitten emojis for God's sake!All that led to her being highly suspicious of Taliyah luring her, Vantrice Kirby and Mia Ryker to the Music Room during Lunch Thursday. Taliyah had told them the whole team was meeting yet when Le surreptitiously checked her iPhone App, only Brandy's phone was close by. She was actually kind of terrified some sort of beat-down was in the offing when they stumbled in and found;; Mikhail and Vlad Samsonov reclining on the piano cover with a sexual sated; no, devastated, Brandy Crystal Carson curled up between them. Le knew what 'fucked stupid' looked like and Brandy definitely qualified. Vantrice and Mia began protesting (these 'boys' weren't on the Football Team). Le was busy putting 'A' together with 'B' then 'C'.In this case: (A) Brandy and Taliyah's sudden defiance, (B) Randi Leigh and Sultana's sudden cessation of (serious) resistance and now (C) Brandy's obvious physical pleasure radiating out for all to see. Le's ever-present blow-pop nearly fell out of her mouth in shock. Whatever her other two teammates (Vantrice and Mia) were thinking, Le knew she had to have 'some of that'.‘Which one is for me?' she had turned to Taliyah, her carefully crafted 'silly little Asian girl' façade momentarily slipping. Taliyah grinned like the sly fox she thought she was.‘Mikhail is mine, but I can share,' she purred as she began to strip. Even as she joined Taliyah in removing her clothing, Le did her own eyeball math. Mikhail was definitely more intrigued with Vantrice than either her, or Mia.How did she know the difference between the two triplets? Well, anyone who thought it was Mikhail beaten up by Darius' people, not Alexander, was a fool. Darius wouldn't have made that error. Otherwise, Mikhail was looking at them like a starving wolf staring at pieces of meat; or sheep. Vlad's eyes kept flickering down to Brandy in something a less romantic person could confuse with love. She headed toward Vlad.‘Can you make me happy like Brandy?' Le sashayed toward the middle triplet, socially shedding 60 IQ points along the way. Boys liked them dumb, right?‘Le,' he smiled; not leered, ‘I think I can make you your own kind of happy,' he volleyed back. Okay, that second part was kind of sappy, but he actually recalled her real first name which hadn't happened in over a year.‘Pearl, stop that,' Vantrice got indignant. ‘These White boys; ‘‘I want to look like Brandy,' Le looked over her shoulder. ‘Don't you?'Vantrice stuttered, Mia was indecisive, Taliyah clearly wasn't going to let them bolt without a struggle and Mikhail was closing in to help.‘Sorry Mia, but I have a hunger for Black chicks,' he moved the blonde aside.‘What?' from Mia.‘Huh?' from Vantrice and;‘Best watch yourself, Mister,' from Taliyah, all aimed at Mikhail. Le opted to focus on Vlad who was certainly fixated on her.‘I want to taste,' she settled down beside him, reaching for his delicious looking piece of man-meat.‘How about we '69'?' he offered.‘I like the way you think,' she glowed. Normally they didn't give her the option. Le put her blow-pop on a desk then went to work.‘Eep!' she squeaked as he effortlessly picked her up and laid her out beside Brandy. He took a few licks of her vulva then;‘Mia, come over here,' he beckoned the blonde girl who seemed to be at loose ends. Le was too busy exploring the texture and taste of his glans and shaft. It was her first White cock; she'd had thicker; yet she felt it would be more than enough to satisfy if Vlad's stamina equaled his dimensions;‘Lay down beside her,' Vlad had directed Mia. She still seemed uncertain and Le wanted to keep Vlad happy for the nonce, so she reached up, took Mia by the hand and gently pulled her to her side.‘Ah; ‘ Mia began purring. Vlad must have been physically stimulating her with his right hand even as his mouth and left hand pleasured her. Damn; Vlad knew his stuff.The real magic began when, after she let him know she was ready; which had always been the reason for guys going down on her, to get her engine running; Vlad had gone to town on her cunt. He licked, tongue-twirled and nibbled her clit, put three fingers into her snatch and, after some teasing, another in her ass. She'd never had a guy pet her G-spot before, but Vlad did.Her inarticulate utterances weren't new, but more protracted than she was used to. She recovered quickly, yet not quickly enough to stop her new lover from moving on to Mia who gladly let him go down on her as well. Le had propped herself up and begun to look around when she noticed a reclining Brandy studying the three of them.‘That felt nice, really nice,' she communicated after a few seconds.‘Don't I know it,' Brandy sighed. She didn't seem to be unhappy with her, or Vlad. There was a pregnant pause as Vlad continued to devote himself to Mia's gratification. ‘All three triplets are wonderful, but I think I've got the best one.'‘Are we ever going to be with the Football Team again?' Le'd wondered.‘Hmmm; ‘ Brandy frowned then, ‘Vlad, Pearl isn't convinced.'And then he'd gone and 'convinced' her, which had been odd. For a moment, when he returned to her, he'd seemed distracted, or put out. Once he made eye contact, Le felt as if their whole world contracted down to just the two of them.Or that was how it had been recalled by Le later as she tried to remember every erotic murmur, sensuous movement, whispered word and tantalizing slap of flesh against flesh. They hadn't fucked. They had made love and until Vlad, she hadn't know the difference. It was sex; but with the difference being she felt he really gave a damn, and not only about how she felt right then, but how she felt, period. It had been so different; and exciting; and so worth repeating.Which brought her back to today, at Brandy's house, playing around the pool and trying not to pull Vlad aside for another round of whatever he had done to her. Le had been trying to figure out this new pecking order and how to best profit from it. She wasn't so egotistical she thought she could steal Vlad away from Brandy; she accepted Brandy had more of the feminine traits which drew Vlad's eyes.Then there was the ravenous way Randi Leigh regarded the young man when she thought Brandy wasn't keeping an eye on her. The way Betty Jo and Alondra teased him was even;‘You spend a whole bunch of time watching what other people are doing,' was whispered into her ear. Le nearly tumbled off the recliner she'd been using.She was able to catch her blow-pop before it fell out of her mouth with judicious use of her lips thus buying her a little more time and stopping her from gasping in fear. Mrs. Samsonov had snuck up on her.‘Ma; Ma; Mrs. Samsonov? Huh?' she was a bit too slow on the comeback.‘You can call me Gayle,' the crouched, mature lady regarded her; much like a feral cat gazing at a frightened field mouse.‘Ah; okay, Gayle,' she hammed it up with a cute tilt of the head. The older woman's eyes narrowed.‘I am beginning to think you aren't quite as dumb as you pretend to be,' Gayle murmured. ‘Now why would that be?'‘What be?' Le played along. Mrs. Samsonov's look became downright menacing.‘I don't like being played for the fool,' she whispered. ‘I'm real sure Vlad and his brothers will be even less amused.'Then, in a flash, the triplet's mother stood and smiled down at her, though Le could sense the humor didn't touch her eyes, or her words. ‘Have fun this weekend, Pearl. Act dumb around school if you like, but my children and I don't have time for such games.'‘I; Mrs.; Gayle, why; how did you figure it out?' Le's protests went from lame to a whisper. When denial was clearly no longer an option, she wanted to know what she'd done to give herself away.Gayle studied her for a few; very long; seconds.‘Smart people can act stupid, but stupid people can't act smart. That being said, really dumb people have bad body posture, often have their mouths open when they don't know what to say; not your candy; and don't react when they themselves say stupid shit,' Gayle enlightened her.‘You make simple statements, but not stupid ones; like Alondra and Betty Jo do. They stay stupid things while you don't. True, they are dumber than most, but they are the ones you are trying to model yourself after, failing, and failing in a manner a suitably observant person can pick up on. After all, for the past two years, how many guys, or girls, have wanted to test your conversational skills?'Le was taken aback at how helpful the older lady was and began taking mental notes.‘Are you; how angry are you with me?' Le worried.‘We accept you've had to deal with different social factors at Davis Consolidated (High School) before we came here. Choices you made last year and before now are in the past. If you don't want to learn from your mistakes, that's on you.'‘If we change?'‘You are no longer cum dumps for the Football Teams. You are the Supreme Female Social Organization with the Samsonov boys making sure you won't be abused, or used as sexual trophies.‘But there still will be sex?' Le gulped. Gayle Samsonov's countenance was downright savage.‘Would you do every member of the Football Team, or just my Vlad?' she posed the question (trap). Le really liked the Football gangbangs, blowjobs and bukkake sessions. Her hunger to embrace the madness which had turned her Mother away from her (White) Father and brought her (Le) into existence came into conflict with her desire to recapture the personal experience she'd shared with Vlad.‘Isn't he mostly interested in Brandy?'‘He's devoted to Brandy, but Brandy will let him spend time with you as long as you support Brandy and Taliyah; plus you keep Vlad's interest because it is the right thing to do,' Mrs. Samsonov explained. Le wasn't used to thinking of either Brandy, or Taliyah, as magnanimous, except;‘Do Brandy and Taliyah confide in you?' Le made an educated leap. Of course, Taliyah's mother was opposed to all things Fonteneau; but here she was, chaperoning the same party, and Brandy had been utterly under Darius' spell at the start of the year; yet clearly was now madly devoted to Gayle's middle son.Gayle's grin lost some of its hostile quality.‘Clever indeed.'Le gave a shy smile in response.‘Enjoy the weekend, Pearl. Open up to Vlad if you get the chance. He's not intimidated by smart women, he likes reading; not as much as sex, but he's still happy to learn; and teach,' Gayle imparted. As she walked away, Le had to wonder how her whole world had transformed; no; evolved. She hoped it was evolving into something much more intriguing than what they were all surrendering. She jumped up and ran to catch up with the older woman. There was so much more she could learn.Victoria ‘Mad Vicky' Orem.‘Come on, Alexander, join us beating up these cheerleader-bitches,' Vicky pleaded with the oldest Samsonov triplet. She'd scampered over to him because her team needed the help and she wasn't sure Kaelyne would be able to return with Mikhail (and Taliyah) from inside.Currently it was her, Kaelyne, Vlad, Sgt. Louisa Petrakis (the State Cop) and Ms. Blanchard versus Missy Brandy, Sultana, Noémie Lucie, Amber Lee and Misty Dawn. With the size, or lack thereof, of herself and Kaelyne, the plan was to replace Ms. Blanchard and the Sarge with Mikhail and/or Alexander.‘I'm still busted up,' he grinned up at her.‘Oh, come on. Don't be a wimp,' she teased him, her fists on her thin, boney hips and thrust out her small chest. Her brand new white, string bikini shown on her tan-less body with the top being so conservative with the fabric it consisted of little more than two tringles kept together by their tie strings. If only she'd had more than 'A' cup sized boobs to fill them;‘Well, if you can pull me up, I'll do my best,' he conceded. Sure, she was 90 lbs. soaking wet while he was 220 lbs., but Vicky was fearless and determined to avenge the earlier pool massacre. She yanked, yanked, made some progress then went for a two hand grip on his left hand. Alexander reversing things, lightning-quick and pulled her down across his body, catching her by surprise.‘Hey!' she protested quite vocally.‘I'd like to kiss you,' Alexander requested passionately.Shock, pleasure, leaning down into Alexander; and nipping his nose.‘Ow,' he complained.‘Took you long enough,' Vicky teased him.Alexander's sudden, expressive and very public sign of affection had been the last thing she'd expected. Yes, they had exchanged sexually charged barbs and erotic innuendo for the past few days; but honestly, Vicky had felt the Samsonov she craved was beyond her. She Knew all the cheerleaders were better looking and even Kaelyne had bigger boobs. Even the 'old ladies' were disappointingly curvaceous, busty and intriguing; at least to the guys.‘Am I going to get that kiss?' Alexander brightened up.‘I don't know,' she vaulted onto his recliner so she ended up straddling his stomach just above the top of his trunks. ‘I kinda like the idea of sexually torturing you,' she added as she sat down; on him.‘Vicky!' Kaelyne reappeared out of the house with Mikhail. ‘Are you two coming?'‘Ocupado!' Vicky triumphantly pronounced. Only then, with her palms placed on Alexander's muscular pectorals, did she lean in for that kiss.‘Yippee!' Kaelyne whooped back. She truly was Vicky's best friend.‘Hey Vicky, don't break him,' Mikhail added in his own teasing.‘I make no promises,' Vicky shot back loudly and proudly. In reality, she had zero sexual experience. She had just had her first kiss; which was warm, wet and wonderful; and she was totally virgin.Vicky had never fit in, battled with ADHD most of her life and had never felt the desire to conform to any of the norms of Kingston, or Davis County. Her hair was always off-color, her only true friend was a shy, introverted, gun-loving lesbian nearly as physically under-developed as she was and, despite the oft-promise of pain, she'd never knuckled under to the bullies.Her musical tastes were unknown bands from other continents and she despised the Sports Religion, so she had expected to serve out her High School years in social exile; but the arrival of the Samsonov's had changed all that. Now she was at a Pool Party with the Cheer Squad; even though as an addendum to Kaelyne; and sexually taunting one hunk of a guy.They kissed twice more before Vicky began serpentining down his body. Lips caressed Alexander's chin, Adam's apple and sternum. Awkwardly, she reached a hand between them and between her spread legs, patting her partner's swimsuit. It took him a few seconds to figure out what Vicky was searching for.‘Umm,' he coughed, somewhat embarrassed. Vicky was turning out to be far more physically aggressive than he'd assumed. ‘It has; ah; expanded down my left leg.'‘Oh!' Vicky popped up, giving Alexander a wicked grin like some demented pixie. ‘Thanks.'She was doubly pleased. He was both not so offended as to be put off plus he was aroused. Check that; triply pleased! Alexander's Baloney Pony Was Huge! (In her inexperienced estimation). She grabbed that manly earthworm and began maneuvering it 'due north'. Soon it was rubbing beneath her covered vulva. Wiggling on it felt wonderful.Alexander's moan was almost as pleasing.‘Oh; ‘ she taunted him, ‘does someone like that?'Alexander gave two, pained nods.What 'Mad Vicky' lacked in real world expertise she compensated for with a rich, diverse and ignored 'For 18+' warning labels, internet history.She pushed herself up slowly, adding an extra twist to her wicked grin when Alexander's eyes flickered to her bikini-top covered assets. Her own quick assessment revealed that while her breasts remained small, her puffy areolas and thick, stubby nipples were flushed with blood and making indentations against her scanty covering. As she kept pushing up, Vicky couldn't help but feel victorious.She had Alexander's cock angling toward his belly button (with the tip no longer contained by his trunks) which had the added benefit of the muscle separating her labia (though equally under wraps). Damn, it felt fine! Vicky was now perpendicular to Alexander's reclining form. Her guy / victim was totally focused on her. The only thing which could make things better was to; He he he he; rub it in.Vicky raised her arms over her head, fingers interlocked then began gyrating and rocking back and forth on his aroused rod.‘Oh Yeah!' she exulted. Things only got better.After a few cycles, Alexander propped himself up with his right elbow and reached out with his left hand, placing it just below her right breast.Vicky figured he was testing her reactions. She was positively luminescent. The oldest Samsonov triplet took that as permission to move three fingers up so he could began playing with her erect nipple through her top. That felt so fine, too. The better, kept getting better.‘Hey!' Misty Dawn Sizemore protested. ‘What's that little freak doing with our guy?'Yep! Vicky's soul soared. She'd stolen a guy the cheerleaders wanted. She was doing her rendition of a barrel-riding/pole-dancing girl routine on top of him for all of those bitches to see. And the better just kept on coming.‘You like?' she resumed her taunting. Alexander nodded again. His words were unexpected.‘I really like your body, Vicky,' he expressed with such genuine openness and innocent trust it caused the tiny temptress to pause.‘You do, don't you?' she barely annunciated.‘Yeah. These nipples look absolutely delicious, you have this pert, tight little ass that wiggles every time you take a bouncing step and your smile is luminous, Vicky. Has no one has ever told you that before?'She digested his compliments and more before deciding he both was not playing her and was really, really sweet.‘No,' she added a little extra wiggle, ‘You would be the first.' Pause. ‘So, you like watching my ass?'‘Behave,' Gayle Samsonov shouted from across the pool. She and Pearl Yates were walking together down to the lawn set aside for the volleyball match.So many replies;‘But I don't want to,' Vicky faux-whined. ‘He's so yummy.'‘I wasn't talking to you, Vicky. I was warning my eldest,' Gayle laughed.‘I don't want to, Ma,' Alexander joined the protest. ‘She's so yummy!'‘Don't make me come over there,' Gayle stopped and shook her finger in their direction. Alexander flopped down and groaned. He even draped his left elbow over his eyes.‘Does this mean we stop?' Vicky get gyrating on his cock.‘I'm afraid so. Going against my Ma is dangerous. Her mean-streak is legendary among those lucky enough to be left alive,' he moaned. ‘Trust me, Vicky' he moved his arm so they were making long, in depth eye contact once more, ‘I'll get you later.'‘What about all the other girls?' she play-pouted. She was really loving this banter.‘Can I leave it at 'Mom's evil plan requires me and my Brothers to romance the Cheer Squad'; please?' Alexander frowned. Vicky wanted to know more. Accepting anything with blind obedience wasn't in her. ‘You are the one who engages me. I confess I didn't see you right away. I had some other crap on my mind, but I see you now and I'm honest about really liking what you're showing.'Pause.‘You are still going to fuck me, right?' she ground her crotch down on his cock.‘Hell yeah,' he coughed. ‘Can't you feel how hard you are making me?'‘Teehee,' Vicky giggled. ‘Just don't go all around school bragging about it,' she reiterated an earlier exchange they'd shared. ‘I'm not that kind of girl.' Total Lie.‘As I recall you are a 'write her name on the bathroom stalls' kind of girl,' he laughed.Vicky snickered.‘Don't make me have to tattoo my name on your dick,' she faux-threatened.‘Ouch,' Alexander winched. ‘Have I told you how much I adore your ass?'‘And my eyes,' she preened. She gave his cock one more vigorous circuit of stimulation then dismounted. ‘Let's go play volleyball before your Mamma has to come back up here and kick my adorable little ass.'‘How about we go down and you sit in my lap as we watch?' he offered instead. ‘I'm kind of still in a great deal of pain. Cracked ribs and all.'‘Fine,' Vicky began pulling the large man-boy up, ‘Kaelyne and I will tag in and out because, while I like that dick, I still want to kick some cheerleader ass.'‘Are you any good at volleyball,' he asked as they hobbled down to the gathering, his left arm draped over her shoulders.‘Never played before in my life. I rocked at tetherball in Kindergarten. How much harder can this be?' Vicky joked.Alexander snorted. Vicky was soaking up the jealous, angry looks being sent her way as she helped him approach. Would she pay for her usurpation later? Most likely, but the promise of retribution from those who thought they were better than her had never stopped her before; and they certainly weren't going to stop her now. This was turning out to be one of the best days of her life.Taliyah and Dominique.Taliyah found her Mother in the Carson's den running her finger over various books on the shelf while drinking a tall glass of 'something'.‘Mamma, how are you going to fix this?' she started off. Dominique looked over her shoulder then slowly turned around, a rather unhappy look on her face.‘Baby, there is no fixing what's wrong with your Daddy and I.'‘Mamma!' Taliyah shouted.

Of Funerals and Families; Part Two. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Birthed by stars, in immortal light, so why do we assume we pass into Darkness.” A maniac conducted the orchestra, while every section fought for dominance without a thought to the opera unfolding under its twittering cacophony. That is how it felt as I steeled myself for the service, but my musings were a fantasy. I had a swirling company of my twenty inductees, two Amazons, plus Rachel's detail and Esmeralda coordinating all the traffic. Pamela was absent. Buffy was the one in charge, deciding who got how close and under what level of scrutiny. The presence of law enforcement was made obvious by our vigilance, with mutual hostility being declared. The government was catching up with how they'd been screwed over. They couldn't prove a thing yet, although they had missed an entire day trailing after me. They also had new leadership. Pamela had expelled Theodora with the simple application of Conflict of Interest. Nicole and Pratt had joined me in my suite, so I was suitably armored when the Feds made their next run at me. I had stepped up in the world, so I was rewarded with a new attack plan. Her name was Assistant Federal District Attorney Javiera Castello, and two seconds of eye contact made precisely transparent what a hurricane she was going to bring to my life. Sex? Oh yeah, she was already figuring what penitentiary to send me to so she could make monthly visits. An impressive dicking wasn't going to save me this time. She was professional, polite and courteous concerning my mourning without being false. Theodora's strategy assumed I was the man who graduated from Bolingbrook a few months back. My history was clear and muddy enough to be real. I was what my documentation said I was; until Havenstone. Theodora had waved the flags and charged the barricades only to discover too late that my defenses weren't manned by a lone yahoo with a bow and arrow, but with mortars and machineguns and her troops had been scattered, her plans shredded. Javiera had my measure now. I was a Prince. Of what, she didn't know yet. She was going to find out. Not out of some fatalistic curiosity, but because that's where the bread crumbs led. Dad was what he appeared to be, that plot of land was relatively worthless and two groups of professional killers had fought and died dragging my father either away, or to safety. I work with some scary-smart ladies. "Ms. Castello, would you care to travel with me to the service?" I turned to her at the last moment. I was a clever puppy, good with women and I wasn't trying to be a politician. Javiera took my gesture for what it was; an olive branch. I was offering to be less of an obstructionist, and she was willing to forgo retribution for my earlier stunts. Five minutes down the road in the stretch limo, I could see the question eating Javiera up inside. She was honoring my melancholy; I could almost hear Dad saying, 'Son, you have company' as a persistent reminder to his petulant teenage slacker that I was a member of the Human Equation. "What do you want to ask me?" I gathered my civility to the fore. Nicole shifted so that we were making eye contact. "Is there a limit to how many questions?" she started off with. I didn't say 'One and that was it'. "I've been told it will take us thirty-two minutes to the cemetery," I looked at my watch. "That gives us; twenty-six minutes," I offered. "Why all the hostility?" led the charge. "A variety of people consider my life to have some value. For a few it is personal. For most, they attach a more esoteric price tag on my existence," I replied. "That is vague enough to be useless," she gently scolded me. Oh, I could see that both Javiera and Nicole were about to play Nutcracker with my heritage until it was the consistency of warm peanut butter. "I am the member of not one, but two secret societies," I kept steady eye contact with her. Yes; there was that look I was slowly becoming accustomed to; that one that conveyed 'what you said made no sense, so why aren't you lying to me?' "Which ones?" Javiera rebounded quickly. "Perhaps we should discuss this at a later time," Nicole reposed. "Nicole," I patted her knee, "how would you feel if you got Javiera murdered?" "That thought shouldn't even be;” she stated. "Nicole, I'm worried enough about you. People know I like you, so they may not kill you for looking in the wrong trash bin," I explained. "She doesn't even have that rather tenuous screen." "Was it one, or both secret societies that shot and killed your father?" Javier continued. "Without a doubt it was an accident. The all-female group was simply scouting the location out as part of forming a contingency plan," I said. "The other group showed up to kidnap my father to interrogate him; I'm not going to tell you why." "The first group identified themselves and the second group began shooting. In the process of grabbing my father, they shot him three times. In the process of taking him to one of their cars, the living lady engaged them in a final firefight. They abandoned my father and left." "You seem to know a great deal about what happened," Javiera noted. "I've seen the footage the first group took from their helmet cams," I told her. "Is there any way I could see that?" she prodded. "By no human means I can think of," I shrugged. "Feel free to ask that extremely venomous lady sitting next to you. Her name is Rachel," I made the introduction. "She remains under the impression that killing people around me will somehow save me from myself," I added. "I not only trust her, I trust her with the lives of my daughters." "You don't have any children we are aware of," Javiera wondered. "Rachel knows what I mean," I gave a lopsided grin. Rachel knew alright. I wasn't asking her to save me with that statement. I was asking her to save my future. "What is with all the women? I'm a believer in gender equality. You seem to lack any male employees, period. Is this a permutation of a harem?" Javier opened another line of investigation. Rachel and Buffy quickly snorted their amusement then returned to their not-so-subtle aggression. I was sure my chauffeur, Tiger Lily, was snickering it up too, beyond the glass. Sigh. "That was uncalled for," I frowned at the Fed. "Five Google searches and you should know all about Havenstone's hiring practices. Ask what you want to ask. Don't try to trick me. I am definitely not in the mood." "Why are you in charge; a male over Havenstone employees that certainly have more skill and experience at; just about everything?" Javiera came clean. "Put on your hip-waders," I groaned. "This is going to suck." I waited until I had her undivided attention. "A long time ago, I killed a group of really bad people," I grunted. I could see that she wasn't buying it despite her interrogation senses saying I was being truthful. "When I say a long time ago, I mean about 2500 years ago." Sigh. "Before you start tossing Thorazine at me, all you need to accept is that every one of those women around me believes that to be true." "So this is a cult?" Javiera inquired bravely. "Put it this way. I'm sure you practice a martial art of some kind. You probably have a chromatic belt that you are rather proud of. It will not help you. These women are professional killers. I'm pretty sure there are a dozen unidentified corpses that could be attributed to these two." I already knew that Buffy killed some guys. Rachel? She was a team leader, so I was willing to have faith in her ability to remorselessly end another person's life. Javiera must have volunteered for my personal fiasco. "Are you being held against your will?" she looked so vigilant and intent. "I can get you out." "No," a dry chuckle. "I'm; not good; getting by. There is no way in Hell I'm leaving Havenstone. I can hardly kill all the people responsible for my father's death if I did that." "If you seek personal vengeance, I will be forced to bring every legal power to bear to stop you," she felt bound to threaten me. "Don't stop being you on my account, Ms. Castello," I finally managed a smile. It was sincere and Javiera knew it. "Who? Maybe I can catch them before you do?" she offered me an escape clause. "You will know it when you see it," I took a deep breath. "Do not try anything at the funeral," she warned me. "Law enforcement will be all over the place." She really wanted to screw me in prison. I knew those things. "I'm not going to kill them there," I assured her. "They will be the ones running for their lives though." "How is that going to work?" Nicole finally broke my silence. "I have 27 ladies willing to kill on my command," I exaggerated. "When I tell those men I know they were responsible and that they should run for their lives, they are going to run for their lousy stinking lives." "But you are not going to give the order to have them killed," Javiera stated. She was getting my measure now. "No, but they don't know that and being horrible human beings, they will assume that I will have them murdered over my father's grave," I turned positively wolfish. "They will run and they will keep running because of you and yours, Javiera. They won't have guns because they don't want to be arrested," I finished. "Why are they afraid to be arrested?" Javiera was putting the puzzle together. That was our deal after all. "I can have repeated, heavenly sex on a train with a nun," I confessed. "I'm pretty sure I can arrange to have a scumbag killed in prison." "I think we can both agree my client is under a great deal of stress at this time," Nicole intervened. "I think we can agree your client is not Al Capone, much less Osama bin Laden," Javiera allowed. "I still think he is exceedingly dangerous." "Dangerous? Dangerous is dating in this town," I groaned. "Went out late last night to a dance club, met two sweet girls visiting the Windy City, stepped outside and they tried to kill me." "Do these two count as 'public'?" Buffy snarled. She meant Javiera and Nicole. Pratt was in another car and the only others with us were Rachel and me. This was going to hurt. "No," I sighed. Wham! The Charlie Horse from Hell! "That's why you have bodyguards, you jerk," Buffy nearly cried. "Ah; we were with him," Rachel tapped Buffy's upper arm. "Oh." Long pause. "I; I apologize," Buffy said sheepishly. "I had no idea you were getting smarter." That was probably the best apology I was going to get. It was still my fault. "You do it out of love, Buffy," I rubbed my arm. Buffy gave me a heartbreaking smile. "Was that domestic violence, or assault?" Javiera snarled. "Neither one is allowable under Illinois law." "It is a Human Resources Team-building tool," I lied. "In some places it is called Obedience Training, or Negative Reinforcement." "I have never seen another human being take a beating like Cáel can," Rachel complimented me. "He is also incredible in the bed room," Buffy added on. Javier didn't know what to make of the menagerie of 'not-normal' women who hung around me. She locked eyes with Buffy. "I mean Really fantastic," Buffy licked her lips. Nicole nodded in agreement. "I can't use any of this," Javiera muttered after several minute of silence. "It is all a type of shared delusion; with fourteen dead bodies attached to it." "Ah, the guy with both femoral arteries shot out made it? Whoa, we've got some top notch surgeons in this city," I nodded. "Yes. As opposed to those two men who had their heads shot off," Javiera added bitterly. Reminding her that poor Horace of the Burnham PD had done the deeds was pointless. "Who died?" I attempted some reciprocity from Javiera. She'd read through every public aspect of my life and had talked to me for less than ten minutes. She excelled at her craft; punishing lawbreakers. "I conclude you know the name of the three dead women and the one living one," she began, "because we haven't a clue who they really are. Their cover identities aren't perfect. We simply can't get anything about them behind the fallacy of their existence." She waited. "If you can help us put the wounded woman in some sort of shared protective custody, I can probably 'suggest' that she be more cooperative," I counter-offered. Rachel nodded. "The eight other bodies at the house;” Javiera shook her head. "Four were dead and by that I mean reported dead from four to nine years ago. The rest; Hell, they were all twisted fucking savages. Every one of them had Interpol warrants out for them, for questioning. No accusations seemed to stick to them: misplaced evidence, dead witnesses and falsified death certificates." "Does this mean anything to you?" Javiera paused to get some more information. "Yes. Reference the men running for their lives," I nodded. "Cáel?" Rachel cautioned me. "This is not something you can rush into." "Actually, it was you who clued me in, Rachel," I looked at her. "Given an opportunity to have only one gun of a given type, would you choose one you knew intimately, or a totally random one?" was my rhetorical question. Professionals trained with a large variety of weapons, yet every Amazon I had met had a preferred weapon; one that if they could have it with them, they would. "The Zastava M2," Rachel nodded. "It is not used in too many places and only Peru in this hemisphere. Someone really loved that gun; enough to bring it from whatever killing field where he was currently employed to my home," I said. "Since the other likely culprit passed on a chance to kill me last night, I am sure enough to pick a fight." (Holy Cross) It had to be odd in so many ways for the people who knew Dad and, to a lesser extent, me. They gathered by the graveside. It wasn't much. Dad had been cremated as had Mom. They had these small granite markers; no headstones for them. They had been so much in love. All they wanted is to be laid to rest, side by side. Mom had insisted on cremation. I thought I knew why, but it had done no good. The true oddity was obvious. The islet of normalcy was the small funerary party with me. My Aunt; my Father's Sister; was here and somewhat in shock. She and Dad hadn't been close; so much unsaid. When my Grandparents died, Dad was only nineteen and Stella was sixteen. Stella's lifelong friend had moved to Maryland a few months previously. Stella reached out to her friend, her friend's parents talked to Dad and Stella went to off to be a mariner. Seeing her occasionally as I was growing up was the extent of our relationship. The priest did his thing. I wondered what Christ thought of this mystic fur ball that was the amalgam of my life. My hope was that he was quietly urging me to do the right thing. The Padre finished, the co-workers and neighbors came by to give their condolences and then ran the gauntlet. The gauntlet? Yes, the herd of Amazons, O'Shea kin and four other clumps of people who I didn't know, yet undoubtedly would soon. Selena and Miyako were present along with a third female who looked luscious in a burqa-shaped covering and a diaphanous veil. Javiera, Pratt and Nicole were somewhat out of place with their lack of arrogant lethality. A limo driver came to take Stella away. "I have some issues to deal with, Aunt Stella," I comforted her. "Vér a vér." It had been ages since she'd heard Hungarian so she wasn't sure what I meant, but she knew it was bad. One of my O'Shea aunts was coming my way until the menace of the closing Amazons halted her. The others had no clue what they were about to behold. I doubt outsiders had ever been privileged to witness anything like it. This was a declaration; it was my mission statement. Ishara did not hide. I took off my coat, folded it, placed it on the damp grass then knelt on it. Buffy stepped up with the bowl of incense and followed my 'coat to keep your knees clean' stunt, sitting perpendicular on my right. Helena followed suit on my left, placing a shroud over my head and leaned over the bowl. Gamble number one: the incense lit up instantly. Gamble number two: it really did burn my eyes; no more Desiree slapping me around. I was sure she'd be heartbroken. Gamble number three: while using my nifty little Amazon blade to gather my tears, I managed not to cut myself. The inductees were much more impressed when they realized what I was doing under my head covering. The next step had me pulling back the shroud, standing up, and striding over the burning bowl of incense. Helena called out the first name. The lady didn't need any prodding. The Amazon walked over to my coat and knelt. Helena wrote down her name and handed her the slip of paper. My Keeper motioned to the bowl. The first applicant placed her named slip of paper on the embers. The simple message flashed up and was consumed. That was unlooked for. I declared her old self dead. With my tears, I opened her eyes to our ancestral history and with blood, I brought her into our future. She had entered House Ishara. She wasn't the only one crying either. What Rachel and her team thought was unknown to me. They were being hyper-vigilant. Esmeralda kept stealing glances our way. Things went along with joyous solemnity until the fourteenth woman, Alicia, knelt before me. Helena handed the paper over, the Amazon dropped it on the incense and nothing happened. I was about to move on to the next part of the ritual when I caught sight of that. Buffy, Helena and the lady were all staring at the offending bit of tinder. I bent over and, with my index finger, pushed it into the embers. Nothing; no heat, or fiery consumption. I put some spit on my finger and pushed again. This time it burned me. The paper was fine. Damn it; 'Come on Ishara!' I screamed mentally. 'Can't I have a simple bit of theater without you mangling someone's dreams?' There was no supernatural scolding, or retort. "Alicia, Ishara believes you have not yet finished your walk outside our House," I consoled the woman; Alicia Holt. As she stood up, faced gripped with disbelief, Buffy rose and took her away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alicia shoot me a poisonous look. Buffy had anticipated this and was making sure the woman didn't make a scene. The last six women were even more nervous than the previous thirteen. Thankfully, Ishara was accepting of the remainder and we all transited to the group celebratory hug. Act one has passed safely, Act two had an unexpected bump and here came round three. The 'dignitaries' started swooping in. Outside of the O'Shea's, none of the guests wanted to have another group behind them, or hemming in them. Two of the groups held back and since one was composed entirely of Asians, I was betting the other group was the Egyptian Rite. One of my now four aunts came forward. My small crowd of Isharans gave her barely enough room to approach the grave. She placed a green rose upon my Mother's small marble marker. I wondered what my Mother would have thought of her sisters finally finding her; green rose? Who made green; probably the same sick son of a bitch who made female clones of himself? The other three followed suit, placing the roses in a radiating sunburst on the small piece of marble. Through the wall of Illuminati security came; the Missing Link. Oh My God. I had heard of V-chested males, but this was insane. I swear his upper arms were as big as my thighs. The problem was the hips and legs of the body didn't match-up to the torso, arms, neck (or lack thereof) and shoulders. The upper, steroid-addicted half belonged to a two meter tall giant. The lower half belonged to, maybe, a subpar man of a meter and a half This monster didn't have a receding hairline (actually, he did); he had a receding forehead. In homo-sapiens, if you roll a marble off their heads, it drops and hits the eyebrows. On this guy, it was a gentle ski-slope all the way down. "This is your Uncle Carrig," Brianna; I thought it was Brianna; made the introductions. I dialed up my Irish. Carrig meant; meant; 'rock'. Not 'the Rock' as in Dwayne Johnson. No, it meant 'rock' as in 'lump'. I had an Uncle Lumpy. How the fuck was I going to explain this at the next high school reunion? The answer was obvious. I'd parade out my four lava-stoked volcanic aunt-hotties and no one would be able to see old Uncle Lumpy over their sexual radiance. Perhaps being created in the form of a disfigured Neanderthal made Lumpy furious with the world. That might be why he wanted Grandpa to stay dead. Maybe; oh hell, Lumpy had serious family issues, as in he wanted to hump my aunts who only wanted to hump me. "Hello Uncle Carrig," I started out. "Thank you for; " "Shut up," he sneered. "I came here to see your whore of a mother one last time, not listen to your prattle." "Carrig, don't," Fiona intervened. "He is family." He took a deep breath. "I know why all of you want him in the Family," he snarled at his sisters. "Behave, or leave," I relayed in a far calmer voice than I felt. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready," Carrig turned his hate back on me. He put a finger to his nose and cleared his sinuses. The resulting sputum he launched at my Mother's tiny rock reminder was dead-on the money, gooey, white and full of phlegm. I looked at that defilement. This red-hot poker of rage seared through my mind. Instead, I laughed. It started as a stuttered utterance but grew and grew into a rich, resounding conquest of death and despair. "Wow, Unc; that was kind of pathetic," I chuckled. "It is impossible to imagine you ever breathed the same air, much less hold any genetic resemblance, to the greatest criminal mastermind of the past millennia. Seriously, spitting on a piece of stone was the most your orangutan-like, sloped-headed pea brain could come up with?" "After that (cough) brilliant bit of diplomacy, he's probably glad he's still dead and didn't have to witness your infantile blunder," I added. He was getting pissed; torn between his desires to pummel me, rip me to shreds, or storm off like a raging King Kong. "You know, when they killed Grandpa, they told me he made a noise like a stuck pig," I mirthfully met his hateful glare. "For a moment, they thought they'd killed the wrong man." "They suspected you and Granddad were in the next chamber, him ramming you up your sissy-ass for the umpteenth time because you are nothing but a ball-less wonder of a cast-off eunuch," I kept taunting him. "Then they recalled that you always squealed like a piglet, not a full grown boar, so they completed their mission and left," I refused to flinch before his vile hatred. "You think you are funny?" he leaned in and hissed. "I think you need a breath mint; and I am hilarious," I grinned. "I also think I'm the son Granddad always wanted, not you." That was me being mean; really mean. "We are not done," his eyes narrowed. "Take your pulse," I mocked him. "When it stops, we are finished. Until then, brush, use mouthwash and floss between meals. Your halitosis is truly offensive and worse, I think you are aware of it, yet still you refuse to respect other people's personal boundaries." "We should go brother," Deidre beckoned. She couldn't hide her amusement at his discomfort and humiliation. Uncle Carrig pivoted and back-handed her. Deidre went flying, but my idiot kinsman didn't have long to savor his win. I hit him with two lightning blows. My first thought was that I had dislocated a few of my fingers from hitting his jaw. Wasn't there a Bond villain like that? Carrig turned on me, a feral fury brimming just beneath the surface. "That's a breach, you cocky, snot-nosed punk," he sneered. Mass carnage was in the offing. "You remain painfully ignorant, Uncle Carrig," I took a half-step back. "Take your punishment now, or later," he coughed. "It makes no difference to me." "First off, Carrig, timing should be a poignant concern. Second, you have only now expended a great deal of your meager brain power convincing everyone here we are related; kin; O'Shea's," I explained. "Also, can I have my knife back?" "Knife?" he blinked suspiciously. "Yeah, the knife I left in your chest," I pointed. I said I hit him twice. Uncle Lumpy looked down and, sure enough, my handy little 10 cm blade was between his second and third rib on the right side. I hadn't wanted to kill him. I had wanted to hurt him and apparently failed at that; while sticking a blade almost up to the handle (Amazon personal blades have no hilt) into him; "What; how?" Lumpy was slowly clueing in that he might be in some trouble. "Brother," Brianna stepped up; shooting me a sultry, 'bend me over the closest headstone and bang me like your Goth prom date' look. I actually didn't go to my prom, Goth chicks are fun and Brianna didn't have panties on. Trust me; I have ESP concerning such things. Of more immediate concern; "Carrig, don't pull out the knife," she placed herself between us, facing him. "You will bleed all over the place." "I'm about to ram it down his ass through his throat," he snarled, clearly educationally challenged. I'd left the blade there for that very reason; not have him fountain blood all over the gravesite. "How long is the blade?" Brianna asked me. She already knew the answer. "10 cm," I was polite, "as is the knife every other Amazon carries." "Reach around and pull out the blade when I tell you," Brianna requested. "I will keep pressure on the wound." I had serious doubts she had an MD associated with her name which meant she knew something I didn't. I also had a more pressing conundrum. Per instructions, I was about to be pressing against Brianna's backside with the added benefit of a free hand. "So, do you want me to pat them, or give them a good rub?" I whispered to Brianna. I'd let he decide what treatment her ass was about to receive. "I figure if I reach around and massage your breasts, Carrig will lose it." "Cáel, take a firm hold. Be doubly sure you are ready before we begin," Brianna instructed. It wasn't the Di Vinci Code, but Carrig wasn't about to conquer a Denny's Kid's Menu (it has little games on it) anytime soon either. Brianna wanted double penetration and, in the name of renewing family relations and my inability to resist any available woman for more than a few days, I complied. Then the horror came crashing in; I hadn't had sex all day and it was almost 10 am. "Don't move, Uncle," I cautioned him. I used those words to conceal the sound of Brianna's skirt zipper going down. I used my other hand to gingerly grab my weapon; the knife; jeesh. Brianna spread her legs wider so that the tension kept her apparel from slipping down. My free hand went inside and got to work. Fortunately, Brianna's hands pressing above and below the wound distracted Carrig from her cute, precious whimpering noises. I must be a total dick. I was stroking my aunt/clone mother with two fingers and teasing her bunghole with my thumb while pulling a knife from my uncle's chest. What is wrong with me? For that matter, Ishara could stymie the ambitions of some poor 'Runner', yet decided her prime minion doing this was a good thing? I work for some screwed up people; dead and alive. "Okay, I'm about to do it," I warned them both. Brianna was kind enough to roll her hips forward and ass up for more direct access. The blade came out, two fingers thrust into her depths, Carrig grunted more in annoyance than any physical distraction and Brianna gasped with piteous need. Before Carrig could start to connect A to B to C, I withdrew my fingers and zipped Brianna up. As I started to withdraw, Brianna acted like my loins were velcroed to her posterior. "Bad Girl," I quietly gave her a risqué reproach. She let me go. Then it hit me like a meteor; I had caused Brianna to orgasm, and hard, with one touch. In fact, she was still roughly riding through it. The mental discipline needed to mask her arousal was impressive. She had no control over her aromatic qualities, Lumpy's nostrils were working fine and his hateful, beady rodent-like eyes latched back on me. "I'm going to kill you," he screamed. Carrig definitely wanted to screw his sisters and they had certainly been denying him. I was curious how that had been accomplished. As he shoved Brianna aside, my suspicion about the seriousness of my wound to his chest was confirmed. I hadn't punched through his heavy corded muscle tissue; with a 10 cm blade. Fuck a duck. If Uncle Carrig got those horrifically huge paws of his on me, I'd be paper-mâché in a hurricane; turned into veal; the very tenderized kind. That wasn't going to happen because of a little factor called crowd density. Most notably, he was in the midst of a passel of Amazons invested in my well-being. A sliver of the O'Shea family dynamic took hold. As usual, it sucked to be me. The four O'Shea ladies rallied around Carrig, cautiously pulled him back then ushered him into the steely embrace of their security. Why did that mean it sucked to be me? In a momentary visual exchange, I understood what Lumpy instinctually sensed when he showed up today. His reign as the place-holder for me was coming to an end. The second my Aunts recruited me over to their side, he was a goner. Obviously they had all the real intellect on that side of the clan. Poor Lumpy merely stomped around and acted like the socially maladjusted homicidal maniac he was. Once the journey to Grandpa's house began, he would cease to have any value whatsoever. Behind his animalistic, dull eyes, we shared that. Tragically, but most likely by design, Carrig couldn't develop a new set of skills to adapt to the situation. The best example I could come up with was; Imagine the last of the super-large amphibious predators confronting the first of the true dinosaur apex carnivores. Somewhere in that tiny amphibian brain, it knew it was screwed. Evolution simply hadn't left it an 'out'. It couldn't get bigger, faster, or more ferocious. It had maxxed out those traits for that model. Nope, it was toast and nothing could save it. As I processed that, the rest of that train of thought came tumbling down. Lumpy was a dead man. He'd hit one of his sisters in front of me which was precisely what they wanted. Deidre hadn't come by my place on Monday to warn me that Uncle Blockhead was trying to kill me. She was prepping me for the knowledge that they had killed Lumpy; to save me. Those incestuous nightmares had trotted Uncle Carrig out like a Barnum  and  Bailey Sasquatch, to loud acclaim and fanfare. Before I could do some in depth research/check to see if this was the 'real' Sasquatch, he would vanish aka be killed to save me. Well played ladies. They should have taken into account I worked for Katrina Love. Katrina undoubtedly played three-dimensional chess on-line so she could lure out the true Vulcans trapped on Earth. My aunts' straw man wasn't going to cut it. Back to the reality that included my father never again enjoying my meandering thoughts over dinner. Back to the other curious 'real' players as they moved in, having soaked up my ceremony and our O'Shea family struggle. If there as a benefit in that misadventure, it was the look on the faces of the two most distant groups. The ambassadors had on their poker faces. I was two decades away from having a chance of deciphering them. Foolish mortals, both groups had brought women with them though. That was not to imply that women can't keep secrets; they are among the experts. It wasn't secrets they were defending though; it was the interaction between Brianna and me that opened them up. If you are a woman and you see a man bring a different woman to orgasm with his fingers in under ten seconds and you are NOT intrigued, you have been sexually neutered. Even if you are a lesbian, you want your lover to pick up that technique. From the level of interest coming my way, I could tell what their bosses/associates really thought of me. The lady who was already thinking how to pull me aside at the reception was also projecting that I had piqued her co-workers, despite their feigned disinterest. The one who was plotting out how to disguise herself as a maid, so she could hide in my bathroom closet until I came in for a shower this evening. Then the feigned interrogation/instructional demonstration could begin, which told me they had chosen to not leave Chicago today despite previous travel plans. The three assholes won the social dare contest and approached me next. They were cool, somewhat disdainful and not a party to the murderous program that led us here today. They were still Condotteiri, thus my enemies and slayers of my Dad. "Mr. Nyilas," a smooth talking Canadian male began, "I wish to pass on the condolences of; " "I know it was you," I broke in. The Canadian; Ottawa, I thought; stopped talking, allowing me to vent. "You killed my father, you fucks. Now here is your 'I got drunk and stuck my cock in a meat grinder only to discover some other moron plugged it in' bullet to the brain. I am not only Cáel Nyilas, I am Cáel Ishara and Cáel, grandson of Cáel O'Shea," I narrowed my vision to menacing slits. "I will let you figure out which Goddess is Ishara as well as the convoluted genetics that has resurrected male Amazons. I want you to know that my father was the Head of House Ishara. You killed a Factor of the Illuminati, the 'Voice' of one of the Nine Clans, one of your own Generals, a Grand Master of the Egyptian Rite, a Ba Wang of the 7 Pillars, or a Chosen Son or Daughter, of Earth  and  Sky "That's right," I let the fear sink in. "This goes beyond a breach, Dumbass. You BROKE the Truce and have ended the Protocols by killing an Amazon leader. I'm sure claims of ignorance by your Generals will be taken for the empty blathering they are. It is time for your blood to soak the sacred soil of my father's place of entombment." Having buried him and his two cohorts in a rockslide of truth, my final bluff passed unrevealed for the empty threat it was. I could see by the looks in their eyes. Amazons didn't care about law enforcement. They would kill those three, vanish into the surrounds then slink back to their secret compounds. It was how the Condotteiri thought Amazon's worked. "Or," I grumbled, "Are you going to make me and my sisters hunt you down and work for it. Killing you with our knives is going to be;” I was saying when their retreat began. I was going to say 'messy'. Those three took a half-dozen steps back then ran for it. Now the stage was fully set. The three members of the Nine Clans came next. I took a totally different tone. Selena stepped up to speak, bowing as she started to speak. "We wish;” she started. There was a lot of interrupting going on today. "Please do not bow to me," I requested softly. "We have fought and it seems inappropriate to me that, without there being a martial decision, we cannot be sure who should be more respectful to whom," I suggested. Selena quickly switched gears. She and her two female companions were now openly staring at me. "My Sith Lady is most likely preparing for trouble at my most vulnerable point," I told Selena. "I'm much more trouble than I first appear," I added. A hiccup in the conversation took place. "You are the male Head of an Amazon House; how?" Selena questioned. "My father and the fathers before him carried the genes of the original Ishara. When Her daughters died out, the legacy fell to me," I explained. Really smart girls; really, really smart girls. "You do not have any daughters, so your first born daughter will be the next Head of your House," the Hashashin noted quickly. "Of any line?" Ah, the siren call of 'please have unprotected sex with me, Mr. Studmuffin. Not only will I walk bow-legged for a week afterwards, I'll have a political tool to use for a lifetime.' "Yes, that is true. Please understand, unless you can catch a thrown tomahawk with your feet, I can't say you are at the top of the list," I sighed. "Speaking of the acrobat of my dreams, how are you doing Miyako?" I knocked away at the barrier between our respective groups. I could hardly be considered an Amazon if I wasn't stacking the odds against the Condotteiri, now could I? On came that child-like Nipponese girl's smile that made me want to double-check her ID for proof of age. "It is recovering nicely. Thank you, Ishara-sama," she smiled warmly. "May I see?" I inquired. Miyako nodded so I went down until I was balanced on the balls of my feet. She deftly slipped out of one of her shoes, placed her foot on my knee then began rolling up the pants leg until the bandage was revealed. In the past few hours my medical knowledge had not increased one iota. I was pretty sure that Miyako knew what this doctor's visit was really all about. I gently massaged her leg from ankle to knee, examining it for flaws and weaknesses. I received some manna from Heaven when I stumbled upon a muscle spasm in her foot arch. I worked it out in under thirty seconds and she gave me a musical murmur of relief when I was done. I put her shoe back on and rolled down her trouser leg. "I would still like you to see our medic if you could spare the half-hour," I offered as I stood. "If it would ease any misconceptions about our first encounter, I will do it," Miyako changed her mind from last night. My next neural misfire was 'Did I pack enough condoms to do all these girls I've been promising to fuck since I got here?' "Estere Abed," the thinly-veiled applicant to be the mother of my first child introduced herself. I was at my father's funeral, I'd been hit with the realization that my incestuous aunts are going to emasculate the uncle I'd just met before they kill him, and I was talking to a woman with skin the color of well-seasoned Oak, eyes as dark as expresso-roasted coffee beans (so deeply brown they were almost black), a pale turquoise, virtually transparent pretend-burqa, with inner, skimpy clothing bits keeping her barely street-legal and visualizing what our daughter would look like. "I am of Kurdish extraction," she lowered her head minutely. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Not only was a-bed something I was seriously considering with this woman, Estere was a Kurdish name of Old Persian extraction. It meant Ishtar; who was the advanced incarnation of Ishara. Bitch; aimed up at my Matron Goddess and Ancestral Mother turned Dominatrixes of my soul. "How; how mystically convergent that is," I grumbled. "I apologize. Me and my matron Ball-buster are exchanging psychic barbs at the moment. Had you somehow predicted this would have happened, I would be happier. With my luck though, this is accidental from the perspective of the mortal plane, thus a point of incredible annoyance to me right now." "Do you often talk to your ancestors?" Estere inquired politely. "Only after I've done something bad," I groaned. "Usually my Goddess is short on instructions yet always ready with 'I told you so'." "How can she chastise you for doing wrong if she fails to give you direction?" Estere was so sincere. I had to keep in mind she was a professional librarian with the nasty habit of misfiling people's lives. "I can tell you don't deal with the Spirit World much," I gave a sad grin. "The last time she gave me a prod, I was staring down a life sentence in a dog cage; after I was condemned, not before." "You escaped," she reminded me with a sparkle. I gave a harsh laugh. "No; no, I didn't," I said. "I'll prove it." I lashed out at Estere. She turned my strike aside and was about to do something I assumed would be unfortunate for me when she restrained herself. "See, Estere, you've been doing this most of your life. I'm a college kid who had a good fortune to meet and be guided by a series of stellar women." She nodded. She didn't understand yet she wanted to remain sympathetic. "I'm playing catch up in an incredibly lethal chess match," I continued. "My advantage is I'm not fuck-nuts crazy like the rest of you people. I don't mean to insult you. I simply want to make it clear how I feel. All the societies are spiritually malformed blights on reality; evil, twisted and predatory." "But you like us," she observed. "I'm going to Hell," I risked much by brushing her nose with my finger from brow to the edge of the veil. "I might as well enjoy the journey." Since I returned with all the fingers I started out with, I could tell she appreciated my caress. Our other guests were getting restless, so I had to end our interaction there. A lone man approached. He looked to be a Turkish/Mongolian mixture and he was uncomfortable with the way the situation had developed. I doubt I had offended him. It was much more the scope of this informal meeting had gone way above his pay grade. As he was from the Earth  and  Sky, the Amazons' hostility simmered. I countered that by being as civil as possible. The emissary, Iskender, gave his condolences, I thanked him for his respect and entered into a small conversation. When he figured out who the Magyar were, he smiled. Iskender was a Kyrgyz, a Turkish people from Central Asia, and we bonded over our male progenitors having saddled up on our nomad ponies, making Eurasia tremble. I was putting forth the effort to make him feel welcome. That was the message for him to take home. Not all the Amazons were going to have their knee-jerk reaction to the E and S's goal. Next came the Seven Pillars, mainly because the Egyptians seemed ready to wait for the grass to devour them before coming my way. Now I had to pillage the vaults of my crafty interpersonal skills to do this correctly. Two men, endowed with as much racial supremacy as Ursula, if not more, introduced themselves. Slight bowing, polite English and the proper, rehearsed words flowed from their mouths. They didn't look down on me; the reason being that behind their perfect civility, they considered me and mine to be inconsequential. The nice female of an indeterminate South Asian lineage had that haunted look of someone made to do horrible things just to survive. A flash of the macabre dumped a memory of her strangling homeless people in some back alleys with barbed wire; so it would hurt them both; training, Seven Pillars style. "Thank you for paying your respects at my father's grave," I started. They hadn't, btw. "I only ask for two things, please," I added humbly. "May I see her palms for a moment?" I asked the man. The woman was clearly a servant; some sort of Palace Guard/Fuck Slave. The leader nodded. The girl was never consulted. Her hands came forward and they rolled so that I saw the scars on her palm; screw you, Ishara. I don't want to care about her. My day planner was more than full with anguish as it was. No answer. "I appreciate it," I smiled. I waited, keeping eye contact. "Was there something else?" the leader finally gave in. "Oh yes," I smiled and nodded. "Don't get in our way. Behave, stay put on that rotting, rubble pile of a decadent and faded civilization you call Heaven and let us do what needs to be done." "Is that clear enough, or do I need to send you both home with your irradiated testicles in jars?" I kept politely smiling and nodding. I was threatening to make them eunuchs with the bonus of having their precious genetics rendered useless. The girl was giving off minute reactive tremors. That was okay. I had been anything, but quiet. Twenty Amazons were ready and willing to make my threat a reality. I wasn't sure how they would break into Fermi Labs for the radiological material, but their resourcefulness never failed to amaze me. The two guys from the Seven Pillars were standing there, not sure what to do next. I had insulted and threatened them; emissaries. Didn't they realize Amazons had been killing poor bastards entreating them for peace for several millennia? "Beat it," I snapped with authority. "I'm done with you. Take my words back to your masters and pray they excuse your gutless reaction. Don't let the airport hit you in the ass." Ugly American? I was the God Damn Bearded Woman/Dog Boy American and their facades were finally fraying around the edges and not the least because going home and telling their bosses my exact words was going to be; well, the positive spin they put on it had better be impressive. They left with their confident poise while the Egyptians approached with a bit of trepidation. Calling me erratic and volatile was being overly kind. My bet was the older male was in charge, but my age and lusty actions convinced them to put the younger woman forward. The younger male bodyguard wasn't even paying attention to me. If the shit went south, he knew he was a goner. "Greetings Cáel Ishara, it seems," she offered my hand to shake. In Old Kingdom Egyptian he said; "May the Blessed Isis bring understanding to this greeting," I countered. Both she and the old man blinked. The rest was in the Egyptian of Ramses and Seti. "It is wonderful to see you speak our sacred tongue; or a close proximity," she smiled. Not only was she generally happy, she was also pretty sure a very unfortunate confrontation was not in the offing. The bodyguard knew of the language but not enough to make out what was being said. The young lady and old man were more than happy to switch to this rare form of communication. We chatted. Things like funerary rites, thoughts on the afterlife and the role of the supernatural in the modern world all came up. No secrets were exchanged and we actually went over some ancient jokes and ribald tales. Buffy's coughing brought us out of our reverie. They taught me the proper Egyptian Rite greeting and farewell, departing in peace. The Amazons were stirring. It was time to head to the cars then on to the wake. "I do not understand you," Javiera grumbled. "You insulted multiple people, including threats of death and dismemberment. You struck and stabbed; something, but not before he knocked a women nearly three meters. I am not even sure that; relative of yours qualifies as human." "I don't know how to approach you and that woman/aunt/whatever," she continued. "Was that incest, public sex, or sexual assault since I didn't hear her give permission for you to do; that?" Whoops; jealousy. Nicole was a half-step back so she could hide her insidious smirk. She already knew I was a bad, bad boy. "I don't know if this makes it better, or worse, but that; those women are not just my aunts. They are the genetic duplicates of my mother and if you think it is funny that they look to be about my age; you wouldn't be alone," I sighed. "Is your mother dead?" she seethed. "Normally, I would take a Death Certificate, mortuary report and a grave marker to be enough. Not with you." "When I was seven years old I saw her very sick in the hospital. I never saw her die, or the cremation, so with my crazy life I'm not going to swear that she's no longer of this Earth," I confessed. "The only one who would know for sure would be; " "Your father," Javiera answered. I began crying all over again. That was it. When I wanted someone dead, I was going to personally put a stake in their hearts, starting with me. This shit has gone down the rabbit hole. In that transitory micro-burst, I flipped. Not to crazy. I had spent my life believing in what was real; working out, girls, books, literature and art; things I could touch and feel, even if it was the air escaping my lungs as words, notes and sounds sprang forth. Now I had to take things on faith. Not 'faith' as in the calculated possibilities which is what most people really meant. I had to accept that there were things beyond my senses that I could not measure, or codify, and move my life forward understanding the total lack of a solid foundation I was basing my actions on. I needed to see Aya so much it hurt. "Are you going to arrest me?" I hiccupped. I was done bawling like a bereft child for a while. "For what?" Javiera snapped. "If I took this insanity before any judge I know, I'd be on Administrative Leave, if not out of a job altogether." "Oh yes," Nicole winked at me. "I was so looking forward to parading out the four identical aunts and the uncle/part-primate." Javiera shot Nicole a dirty look. "We need to go," Buffy reminded me. The only snag was the FBI guys, backed up by some Chicago PD, who intercepted Javiera as she walked with me to our limo. She had to separate for a minute to assure them she hadn't been kidnapped. After some rumbling, we were gifted with one FBI 'bodyguard' for Javiera. That was laughable. If a psychotic fit seized us, there would be two dead government officials instead of one. "Did you really stab that guy?" Special Agent Street Moslin asked once we were on our way. "My family believes in tough love," I muttered. "What sort of organized crime outfit are you with?" was next. "Pre-teen beauty pageants," I sighed. "You wouldn't believe how cutthroat they are." "It is a crime to lie to a criminal investigator," he countered. "And if this was an interrogation," Nicole sizzled, "you would have to Mirandize him." "He has already been Mirandized," the puppy yipped. "Oh? On the charge of Criminal Conspiracy to commit; clarify the charge for me," Nicole grinned. Street looked to Javiera. "What? Special Agent Moslin, consider yourself to not know a damn thing about what is going on and proceed from there," Javiera informed him. The poor bastard looked perplexed. "I will put your situation in context. The woman to my side (Rachel) is about to slit your throat. The woman (Buffy) next to Ms. Lawless is going to snap your neck. They do not give a crap that you, or I, are federal agents. The issue is not what will you do, it is which one gets to you first," Javiera glared at him. "Clear?" SA Street wasn't done yet. "They will get away with it because I suspect they already have such a contingency worked out," Javiera educated him. Javiera was yet Another really clever lady. "Call for our back-up vehicle, pull into a private driveway where you cannot legally follow us, abandon the vehicle, get picked up and leave the city on a private aircraft to another nation," Rachel sounded bored. That was so nice of her to assist Javiera out that way. "Thank you," I told Rachel. "That was very helpful of you." "I want the male to shut-up," Rachel answered. "He's grating. Worse, he's making me wish Pamela was with us and that is so wrong." I held up a finger to forestall Street. "Honestly Dude, she's is not messing with your head. She wants you to shut up, so please be quiet," I urged him. I conceptualized the assessment he was making. Crap. "Guy, whatever workout routine you think gives you the edge is what she does to warm up in the morning," I pleaded. Street had the 'she's only a girl' look about him. "Her combat training is with live rounds, real weapons and a plethora of scrapes, cuts and broken bones. I have little doubt that she's killed people, some in cold blood." "You being Top Shot at the local range and a Judo Champ isn't going to cut it," I emphasized. "You think she's some kind of Special Forces operator?" he mocked me. Javiera and Nicole got nervous. I didn't. Beginner's Amazon Psychology; male opinions do not matter. Rachel and Buffy weren't insulted because he was a chattering chimp and nothing more. "Have you ever heard of an all-female Special Forces unit?" I prodded. "No," he snorted. I kept staring; and staring; and then the idea began creeping in. "Where do you train?" Street looked at Rachel. Rachel was looking at him, not 'at' him. "Please Rachel," I requested. That was really for Javiera's benefit. "Physical training started at age five, weapons training at nine, survival testing at twelve, craft training at fifteen, and acceptance at nineteen," she rattled off in a monotone. "I am thirty." "What is 'craft training'?" Javiera inquired. "Learning to kill people and destroy things," she began. "My specialties are small unit tactics, security operations, electronic countermeasures and Recon Sniper," Rachel replied. "I am an accepted close combat trainer and handheld weapon expert. Do I need to explain any of that?" Pause. Street snorted. "Do you ever sleep?" Street joked. Rachel looked to me then rolled her eyes. "Yes. Six hours; every day unless duty intervenes," she said. "Right; so, what martial arts style do you practice?" he asked. "Not one you have ever heard of," Rachel took a deep breath. "Try me," Street entreated. "I've practiced with several." "Male, do I look like I enjoy talking to you?" Rachel glared. "To alleviate your obvious confusion, I do not. If you wish to lower the hostility level, hand me your pistol and the sap at your back. Your possession of said weapons in the presence of Cáel complicates my job. This is almost as irritating is restraining myself from taking them from you like the infant you are." "You think you could?" Street challenged her. "I was with the 82nd Airborne in Afghanistan." "Special Agent Moslin, she doesn't care. You might as well have told her you were a weekend security guard at an amusement park," I reasoned. "In her mind, being born with a penis renders all your accomplishments so much hyperbole; kind of how her having tits lowered your respect for her as a fighter." That successful ended that diversion. (The wake) Life was wonderful. I walked in the door of the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion, Charlotte pulled me into a vacant side room and handed me a secure phone. She mouthed the name of the person on the other end. "Hayden," I sighed to my High Priestess. "Ishara (not using my first name was a bad sign), I have heard a report that you have declared war on the Condotteiri," she gave me the 'I'm going to skin you alive' purr. "Yep and I urinated on the Seven Pillars too," I confirmed. "Don't worry about the Illuminati. I've got that alliance sown up." "I'm going to have a member of the Nine Clans give me my first born, Ishara daughter, so that prospective alliance looks good as well," I added. "I even managed to be diplomatic with Earth  and  Sky. It is not even noon yet either. No need to thank me. Knowing you are thinking passionate thoughts about me is enough." Charlotte looked like her eyes were going to bug out. "We are clear on the fact that there are fifty two other houses in the House, aren't we Cáel?" Hayden murmured. "Hey now," I reposed, "you said to not pick a fight inside Havenstone. You didn't say anything about these sons of bitches on the outside. I also added nineteen new members. Ishara rejected one who I now think was a closet Man-hater's man-hater." "I want you to come back to Havenstone immediately and keep your mouth shut," she commanded. "The Council will be rightly furious." "With me?" I asked. "Of course with you," Hayden growled. "With the aid of the Federal Assistant Attorney, I received computer discs with extensive and sensitive data on Havenstone, including pictures and locations of Sydney and Marilynn, your daughter and granddaughter," I lied. "The feds seized the Condotteiri's private jet." Silence. "What? Why am I only now hearing of this?" Hayden inquired with a deathly calm. "Do you want me to work with the feds to finish hunting down those last two killers while I send someone back with the data?" I persisted. An oddly longer pause. "Katrina insists there is no data," Hayden seethed. "Of course there is no data," I snapped back. "Unlike you, I'm loyal to EVERY MEMBER of the Host, not just the ones I approve of! If I had something that important, it would be on the way to you, if not already in your hands. My House Head has been murdered. Support me; don't support me. It doesn't change that reality. You have lowered your worth in my eyes, Hayden. We will talk of this when I return." And I hung up. Charlotte kept gaping at me. "Do you think I was clear enough, Charlotte?" I asked her. "Yes Ishara," she whispered. "I doubt a single ancestor misconstrued your wrath." That stopped me in my tracks. A rank and file Amazon using my house name was perfectly acceptable. A Council 'equal' saying it was the equivalent of your pissed Mom yelling out your entire name. "You agree with me?" I blinked. "Had it been Fatima, Beyoncé, or Ngozi there would be no debate," Charlotte answered. "I don't like you; okay, beyond your physical magnetism I do not like you. You are still the Head of House Ishara and we believe that the ancestors move through you." By 'we' I imagine she meant Rachel's SD detachment. A social paradigm presented itself. Amazons were surprisingly democratic for such an ancient society. Their bonds of sisterhood gave them greater liberty than any other group I'd heard of. All could take their grievances to the highest authority. They could hate me and die for me at the same time, in the same way Charlotte could be honest at that moment. I was her superior in rank yet her equal in blood. "You realize that if you tell Buffy about this she'll beat me black and blue," I teased Charlotte. "No can do, Ishara," she chuckled. "She's your sister and, quite frankly, you wove this disaster and if anyone deserves to remind you of the trouble you've wrought, it is her." "I would call you a heartless Amazon, but that's kind of redundant," I glowered playfully. I couldn't hide with Charlotte in the side room forever. It was my father's wake after all. Out I went and there was Buffy waiting for me. "We have a problem," Buffy murmured to me as I headed to the main reception area/family room. "There are some questions concerning your Aunt Stella and the Ishara legacy." "Thank God," I muttered. My crisis was momentarily sidelined. I moved into the gathering, letting Helena and Buffy bring the Amazon to my corner. "Quick and easy," I stated as the last one j

Of Funerals and Families; Part Two. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Birthed by stars, in immortal light, so why do we assume we pass into Darkness.” A maniac conducted the orchestra, while every section fought for dominance without a thought to the opera unfolding under its twittering cacophony. That is how it felt as I steeled myself for the service, but my musings were a fantasy. I had a swirling company of my twenty inductees, two Amazons, plus Rachel's detail and Esmeralda coordinating all the traffic. Pamela was absent. Buffy was the one in charge, deciding who got how close and under what level of scrutiny. The presence of law enforcement was made obvious by our vigilance, with mutual hostility being declared. The government was catching up with how they'd been screwed over. They couldn't prove a thing yet, although they had missed an entire day trailing after me. They also had new leadership. Pamela had expelled Theodora with the simple application of Conflict of Interest. Nicole and Pratt had joined me in my suite, so I was suitably armored when the Feds made their next run at me. I had stepped up in the world, so I was rewarded with a new attack plan. Her name was Assistant Federal District Attorney Javiera Castello, and two seconds of eye contact made precisely transparent what a hurricane she was going to bring to my life. Sex? Oh yeah, she was already figuring what penitentiary to send me to so she could make monthly visits. An impressive dicking wasn't going to save me this time. She was professional, polite and courteous concerning my mourning without being false. Theodora's strategy assumed I was the man who graduated from Bolingbrook a few months back. My history was clear and muddy enough to be real. I was what my documentation said I was; until Havenstone. Theodora had waved the flags and charged the barricades only to discover too late that my defenses weren't manned by a lone yahoo with a bow and arrow, but with mortars and machineguns and her troops had been scattered, her plans shredded. Javiera had my measure now. I was a Prince. Of what, she didn't know yet. She was going to find out. Not out of some fatalistic curiosity, but because that's where the bread crumbs led. Dad was what he appeared to be, that plot of land was relatively worthless and two groups of professional killers had fought and died dragging my father either away, or to safety. I work with some scary-smart ladies. "Ms. Castello, would you care to travel with me to the service?" I turned to her at the last moment. I was a clever puppy, good with women and I wasn't trying to be a politician. Javiera took my gesture for what it was; an olive branch. I was offering to be less of an obstructionist, and she was willing to forgo retribution for my earlier stunts. Five minutes down the road in the stretch limo, I could see the question eating Javiera up inside. She was honoring my melancholy; I could almost hear Dad saying, 'Son, you have company' as a persistent reminder to his petulant teenage slacker that I was a member of the Human Equation. "What do you want to ask me?" I gathered my civility to the fore. Nicole shifted so that we were making eye contact. "Is there a limit to how many questions?" she started off with. I didn't say 'One and that was it'. "I've been told it will take us thirty-two minutes to the cemetery," I looked at my watch. "That gives us; twenty-six minutes," I offered. "Why all the hostility?" led the charge. "A variety of people consider my life to have some value. For a few it is personal. For most, they attach a more esoteric price tag on my existence," I replied. "That is vague enough to be useless," she gently scolded me. Oh, I could see that both Javiera and Nicole were about to play Nutcracker with my heritage until it was the consistency of warm peanut butter. "I am the member of not one, but two secret societies," I kept steady eye contact with her. Yes; there was that look I was slowly becoming accustomed to; that one that conveyed 'what you said made no sense, so why aren't you lying to me?' "Which ones?" Javiera rebounded quickly. "Perhaps we should discuss this at a later time," Nicole reposed. "Nicole," I patted her knee, "how would you feel if you got Javiera murdered?" "That thought shouldn't even be;” she stated. "Nicole, I'm worried enough about you. People know I like you, so they may not kill you for looking in the wrong trash bin," I explained. "She doesn't even have that rather tenuous screen." "Was it one, or both secret societies that shot and killed your father?" Javier continued. "Without a doubt it was an accident. The all-female group was simply scouting the location out as part of forming a contingency plan," I said. "The other group showed up to kidnap my father to interrogate him; I'm not going to tell you why." "The first group identified themselves and the second group began shooting. In the process of grabbing my father, they shot him three times. In the process of taking him to one of their cars, the living lady engaged them in a final firefight. They abandoned my father and left." "You seem to know a great deal about what happened," Javiera noted. "I've seen the footage the first group took from their helmet cams," I told her. "Is there any way I could see that?" she prodded. "By no human means I can think of," I shrugged. "Feel free to ask that extremely venomous lady sitting next to you. Her name is Rachel," I made the introduction. "She remains under the impression that killing people around me will somehow save me from myself," I added. "I not only trust her, I trust her with the lives of my daughters." "You don't have any children we are aware of," Javiera wondered. "Rachel knows what I mean," I gave a lopsided grin. Rachel knew alright. I wasn't asking her to save me with that statement. I was asking her to save my future. "What is with all the women? I'm a believer in gender equality. You seem to lack any male employees, period. Is this a permutation of a harem?" Javier opened another line of investigation. Rachel and Buffy quickly snorted their amusement then returned to their not-so-subtle aggression. I was sure my chauffeur, Tiger Lily, was snickering it up too, beyond the glass. Sigh. "That was uncalled for," I frowned at the Fed. "Five Google searches and you should know all about Havenstone's hiring practices. Ask what you want to ask. Don't try to trick me. I am definitely not in the mood." "Why are you in charge; a male over Havenstone employees that certainly have more skill and experience at; just about everything?" Javiera came clean. "Put on your hip-waders," I groaned. "This is going to suck." I waited until I had her undivided attention. "A long time ago, I killed a group of really bad people," I grunted. I could see that she wasn't buying it despite her interrogation senses saying I was being truthful. "When I say a long time ago, I mean about 2500 years ago." Sigh. "Before you start tossing Thorazine at me, all you need to accept is that every one of those women around me believes that to be true." "So this is a cult?" Javiera inquired bravely. "Put it this way. I'm sure you practice a martial art of some kind. You probably have a chromatic belt that you are rather proud of. It will not help you. These women are professional killers. I'm pretty sure there are a dozen unidentified corpses that could be attributed to these two." I already knew that Buffy killed some guys. Rachel? She was a team leader, so I was willing to have faith in her ability to remorselessly end another person's life. Javiera must have volunteered for my personal fiasco. "Are you being held against your will?" she looked so vigilant and intent. "I can get you out." "No," a dry chuckle. "I'm; not good; getting by. There is no way in Hell I'm leaving Havenstone. I can hardly kill all the people responsible for my father's death if I did that." "If you seek personal vengeance, I will be forced to bring every legal power to bear to stop you," she felt bound to threaten me. "Don't stop being you on my account, Ms. Castello," I finally managed a smile. It was sincere and Javiera knew it. "Who? Maybe I can catch them before you do?" she offered me an escape clause. "You will know it when you see it," I took a deep breath. "Do not try anything at the funeral," she warned me. "Law enforcement will be all over the place." She really wanted to screw me in prison. I knew those things. "I'm not going to kill them there," I assured her. "They will be the ones running for their lives though." "How is that going to work?" Nicole finally broke my silence. "I have 27 ladies willing to kill on my command," I exaggerated. "When I tell those men I know they were responsible and that they should run for their lives, they are going to run for their lousy stinking lives." "But you are not going to give the order to have them killed," Javiera stated. She was getting my measure now. "No, but they don't know that and being horrible human beings, they will assume that I will have them murdered over my father's grave," I turned positively wolfish. "They will run and they will keep running because of you and yours, Javiera. They won't have guns because they don't want to be arrested," I finished. "Why are they afraid to be arrested?" Javiera was putting the puzzle together. That was our deal after all. "I can have repeated, heavenly sex on a train with a nun," I confessed. "I'm pretty sure I can arrange to have a scumbag killed in prison." "I think we can both agree my client is under a great deal of stress at this time," Nicole intervened. "I think we can agree your client is not Al Capone, much less Osama bin Laden," Javiera allowed. "I still think he is exceedingly dangerous." "Dangerous? Dangerous is dating in this town," I groaned. "Went out late last night to a dance club, met two sweet girls visiting the Windy City, stepped outside and they tried to kill me." "Do these two count as 'public'?" Buffy snarled. She meant Javiera and Nicole. Pratt was in another car and the only others with us were Rachel and me. This was going to hurt. "No," I sighed. Wham! The Charlie Horse from Hell! "That's why you have bodyguards, you jerk," Buffy nearly cried. "Ah; we were with him," Rachel tapped Buffy's upper arm. "Oh." Long pause. "I; I apologize," Buffy said sheepishly. "I had no idea you were getting smarter." That was probably the best apology I was going to get. It was still my fault. "You do it out of love, Buffy," I rubbed my arm. Buffy gave me a heartbreaking smile. "Was that domestic violence, or assault?" Javiera snarled. "Neither one is allowable under Illinois law." "It is a Human Resources Team-building tool," I lied. "In some places it is called Obedience Training, or Negative Reinforcement." "I have never seen another human being take a beating like Cáel can," Rachel complimented me. "He is also incredible in the bed room," Buffy added on. Javier didn't know what to make of the menagerie of 'not-normal' women who hung around me. She locked eyes with Buffy. "I mean Really fantastic," Buffy licked her lips. Nicole nodded in agreement. "I can't use any of this," Javiera muttered after several minute of silence. "It is all a type of shared delusion; with fourteen dead bodies attached to it." "Ah, the guy with both femoral arteries shot out made it? Whoa, we've got some top notch surgeons in this city," I nodded. "Yes. As opposed to those two men who had their heads shot off," Javiera added bitterly. Reminding her that poor Horace of the Burnham PD had done the deeds was pointless. "Who died?" I attempted some reciprocity from Javiera. She'd read through every public aspect of my life and had talked to me for less than ten minutes. She excelled at her craft; punishing lawbreakers. "I conclude you know the name of the three dead women and the one living one," she began, "because we haven't a clue who they really are. Their cover identities aren't perfect. We simply can't get anything about them behind the fallacy of their existence." She waited. "If you can help us put the wounded woman in some sort of shared protective custody, I can probably 'suggest' that she be more cooperative," I counter-offered. Rachel nodded. "The eight other bodies at the house;” Javiera shook her head. "Four were dead and by that I mean reported dead from four to nine years ago. The rest; Hell, they were all twisted fucking savages. Every one of them had Interpol warrants out for them, for questioning. No accusations seemed to stick to them: misplaced evidence, dead witnesses and falsified death certificates." "Does this mean anything to you?" Javiera paused to get some more information. "Yes. Reference the men running for their lives," I nodded. "Cáel?" Rachel cautioned me. "This is not something you can rush into." "Actually, it was you who clued me in, Rachel," I looked at her. "Given an opportunity to have only one gun of a given type, would you choose one you knew intimately, or a totally random one?" was my rhetorical question. Professionals trained with a large variety of weapons, yet every Amazon I had met had a preferred weapon; one that if they could have it with them, they would. "The Zastava M2," Rachel nodded. "It is not used in too many places and only Peru in this hemisphere. Someone really loved that gun; enough to bring it from whatever killing field where he was currently employed to my home," I said. "Since the other likely culprit passed on a chance to kill me last night, I am sure enough to pick a fight." (Holy Cross) It had to be odd in so many ways for the people who knew Dad and, to a lesser extent, me. They gathered by the graveside. It wasn't much. Dad had been cremated as had Mom. They had these small granite markers; no headstones for them. They had been so much in love. All they wanted is to be laid to rest, side by side. Mom had insisted on cremation. I thought I knew why, but it had done no good. The true oddity was obvious. The islet of normalcy was the small funerary party with me. My Aunt; my Father's Sister; was here and somewhat in shock. She and Dad hadn't been close; so much unsaid. When my Grandparents died, Dad was only nineteen and Stella was sixteen. Stella's lifelong friend had moved to Maryland a few months previously. Stella reached out to her friend, her friend's parents talked to Dad and Stella went to off to be a mariner. Seeing her occasionally as I was growing up was the extent of our relationship. The priest did his thing. I wondered what Christ thought of this mystic fur ball that was the amalgam of my life. My hope was that he was quietly urging me to do the right thing. The Padre finished, the co-workers and neighbors came by to give their condolences and then ran the gauntlet. The gauntlet? Yes, the herd of Amazons, O'Shea kin and four other clumps of people who I didn't know, yet undoubtedly would soon. Selena and Miyako were present along with a third female who looked luscious in a burqa-shaped covering and a diaphanous veil. Javiera, Pratt and Nicole were somewhat out of place with their lack of arrogant lethality. A limo driver came to take Stella away. "I have some issues to deal with, Aunt Stella," I comforted her. "Vér a vér." It had been ages since she'd heard Hungarian so she wasn't sure what I meant, but she knew it was bad. One of my O'Shea aunts was coming my way until the menace of the closing Amazons halted her. The others had no clue what they were about to behold. I doubt outsiders had ever been privileged to witness anything like it. This was a declaration; it was my mission statement. Ishara did not hide. I took off my coat, folded it, placed it on the damp grass then knelt on it. Buffy stepped up with the bowl of incense and followed my 'coat to keep your knees clean' stunt, sitting perpendicular on my right. Helena followed suit on my left, placing a shroud over my head and leaned over the bowl. Gamble number one: the incense lit up instantly. Gamble number two: it really did burn my eyes; no more Desiree slapping me around. I was sure she'd be heartbroken. Gamble number three: while using my nifty little Amazon blade to gather my tears, I managed not to cut myself. The inductees were much more impressed when they realized what I was doing under my head covering. The next step had me pulling back the shroud, standing up, and striding over the burning bowl of incense. Helena called out the first name. The lady didn't need any prodding. The Amazon walked over to my coat and knelt. Helena wrote down her name and handed her the slip of paper. My Keeper motioned to the bowl. The first applicant placed her named slip of paper on the embers. The simple message flashed up and was consumed. That was unlooked for. I declared her old self dead. With my tears, I opened her eyes to our ancestral history and with blood, I brought her into our future. She had entered House Ishara. She wasn't the only one crying either. What Rachel and her team thought was unknown to me. They were being hyper-vigilant. Esmeralda kept stealing glances our way. Things went along with joyous solemnity until the fourteenth woman, Alicia, knelt before me. Helena handed the paper over, the Amazon dropped it on the incense and nothing happened. I was about to move on to the next part of the ritual when I caught sight of that. Buffy, Helena and the lady were all staring at the offending bit of tinder. I bent over and, with my index finger, pushed it into the embers. Nothing; no heat, or fiery consumption. I put some spit on my finger and pushed again. This time it burned me. The paper was fine. Damn it; 'Come on Ishara!' I screamed mentally. 'Can't I have a simple bit of theater without you mangling someone's dreams?' There was no supernatural scolding, or retort. "Alicia, Ishara believes you have not yet finished your walk outside our House," I consoled the woman; Alicia Holt. As she stood up, faced gripped with disbelief, Buffy rose and took her away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alicia shoot me a poisonous look. Buffy had anticipated this and was making sure the woman didn't make a scene. The last six women were even more nervous than the previous thirteen. Thankfully, Ishara was accepting of the remainder and we all transited to the group celebratory hug. Act one has passed safely, Act two had an unexpected bump and here came round three. The 'dignitaries' started swooping in. Outside of the O'Shea's, none of the guests wanted to have another group behind them, or hemming in them. Two of the groups held back and since one was composed entirely of Asians, I was betting the other group was the Egyptian Rite. One of my now four aunts came forward. My small crowd of Isharans gave her barely enough room to approach the grave. She placed a green rose upon my Mother's small marble marker. I wondered what my Mother would have thought of her sisters finally finding her; green rose? Who made green; probably the same sick son of a bitch who made female clones of himself? The other three followed suit, placing the roses in a radiating sunburst on the small piece of marble. Through the wall of Illuminati security came; the Missing Link. Oh My God. I had heard of V-chested males, but this was insane. I swear his upper arms were as big as my thighs. The problem was the hips and legs of the body didn't match-up to the torso, arms, neck (or lack thereof) and shoulders. The upper, steroid-addicted half belonged to a two meter tall giant. The lower half belonged to, maybe, a subpar man of a meter and a half This monster didn't have a receding hairline (actually, he did); he had a receding forehead. In homo-sapiens, if you roll a marble off their heads, it drops and hits the eyebrows. On this guy, it was a gentle ski-slope all the way down. "This is your Uncle Carrig," Brianna; I thought it was Brianna; made the introductions. I dialed up my Irish. Carrig meant; meant; 'rock'. Not 'the Rock' as in Dwayne Johnson. No, it meant 'rock' as in 'lump'. I had an Uncle Lumpy. How the fuck was I going to explain this at the next high school reunion? The answer was obvious. I'd parade out my four lava-stoked volcanic aunt-hotties and no one would be able to see old Uncle Lumpy over their sexual radiance. Perhaps being created in the form of a disfigured Neanderthal made Lumpy furious with the world. That might be why he wanted Grandpa to stay dead. Maybe; oh hell, Lumpy had serious family issues, as in he wanted to hump my aunts who only wanted to hump me. "Hello Uncle Carrig," I started out. "Thank you for; " "Shut up," he sneered. "I came here to see your whore of a mother one last time, not listen to your prattle." "Carrig, don't," Fiona intervened. "He is family." He took a deep breath. "I know why all of you want him in the Family," he snarled at his sisters. "Behave, or leave," I relayed in a far calmer voice than I felt. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready," Carrig turned his hate back on me. He put a finger to his nose and cleared his sinuses. The resulting sputum he launched at my Mother's tiny rock reminder was dead-on the money, gooey, white and full of phlegm. I looked at that defilement. This red-hot poker of rage seared through my mind. Instead, I laughed. It started as a stuttered utterance but grew and grew into a rich, resounding conquest of death and despair. "Wow, Unc; that was kind of pathetic," I chuckled. "It is impossible to imagine you ever breathed the same air, much less hold any genetic resemblance, to the greatest criminal mastermind of the past millennia. Seriously, spitting on a piece of stone was the most your orangutan-like, sloped-headed pea brain could come up with?" "After that (cough) brilliant bit of diplomacy, he's probably glad he's still dead and didn't have to witness your infantile blunder," I added. He was getting pissed; torn between his desires to pummel me, rip me to shreds, or storm off like a raging King Kong. "You know, when they killed Grandpa, they told me he made a noise like a stuck pig," I mirthfully met his hateful glare. "For a moment, they thought they'd killed the wrong man." "They suspected you and Granddad were in the next chamber, him ramming you up your sissy-ass for the umpteenth time because you are nothing but a ball-less wonder of a cast-off eunuch," I kept taunting him. "Then they recalled that you always squealed like a piglet, not a full grown boar, so they completed their mission and left," I refused to flinch before his vile hatred. "You think you are funny?" he leaned in and hissed. "I think you need a breath mint; and I am hilarious," I grinned. "I also think I'm the son Granddad always wanted, not you." That was me being mean; really mean. "We are not done," his eyes narrowed. "Take your pulse," I mocked him. "When it stops, we are finished. Until then, brush, use mouthwash and floss between meals. Your halitosis is truly offensive and worse, I think you are aware of it, yet still you refuse to respect other people's personal boundaries." "We should go brother," Deidre beckoned. She couldn't hide her amusement at his discomfort and humiliation. Uncle Carrig pivoted and back-handed her. Deidre went flying, but my idiot kinsman didn't have long to savor his win. I hit him with two lightning blows. My first thought was that I had dislocated a few of my fingers from hitting his jaw. Wasn't there a Bond villain like that? Carrig turned on me, a feral fury brimming just beneath the surface. "That's a breach, you cocky, snot-nosed punk," he sneered. Mass carnage was in the offing. "You remain painfully ignorant, Uncle Carrig," I took a half-step back. "Take your punishment now, or later," he coughed. "It makes no difference to me." "First off, Carrig, timing should be a poignant concern. Second, you have only now expended a great deal of your meager brain power convincing everyone here we are related; kin; O'Shea's," I explained. "Also, can I have my knife back?" "Knife?" he blinked suspiciously. "Yeah, the knife I left in your chest," I pointed. I said I hit him twice. Uncle Lumpy looked down and, sure enough, my handy little 10 cm blade was between his second and third rib on the right side. I hadn't wanted to kill him. I had wanted to hurt him and apparently failed at that; while sticking a blade almost up to the handle (Amazon personal blades have no hilt) into him; "What; how?" Lumpy was slowly clueing in that he might be in some trouble. "Brother," Brianna stepped up; shooting me a sultry, 'bend me over the closest headstone and bang me like your Goth prom date' look. I actually didn't go to my prom, Goth chicks are fun and Brianna didn't have panties on. Trust me; I have ESP concerning such things. Of more immediate concern; "Carrig, don't pull out the knife," she placed herself between us, facing him. "You will bleed all over the place." "I'm about to ram it down his ass through his throat," he snarled, clearly educationally challenged. I'd left the blade there for that very reason; not have him fountain blood all over the gravesite. "How long is the blade?" Brianna asked me. She already knew the answer. "10 cm," I was polite, "as is the knife every other Amazon carries." "Reach around and pull out the blade when I tell you," Brianna requested. "I will keep pressure on the wound." I had serious doubts she had an MD associated with her name which meant she knew something I didn't. I also had a more pressing conundrum. Per instructions, I was about to be pressing against Brianna's backside with the added benefit of a free hand. "So, do you want me to pat them, or give them a good rub?" I whispered to Brianna. I'd let he decide what treatment her ass was about to receive. "I figure if I reach around and massage your breasts, Carrig will lose it." "Cáel, take a firm hold. Be doubly sure you are ready before we begin," Brianna instructed. It wasn't the Di Vinci Code, but Carrig wasn't about to conquer a Denny's Kid's Menu (it has little games on it) anytime soon either. Brianna wanted double penetration and, in the name of renewing family relations and my inability to resist any available woman for more than a few days, I complied. Then the horror came crashing in; I hadn't had sex all day and it was almost 10 am. "Don't move, Uncle," I cautioned him. I used those words to conceal the sound of Brianna's skirt zipper going down. I used my other hand to gingerly grab my weapon; the knife; jeesh. Brianna spread her legs wider so that the tension kept her apparel from slipping down. My free hand went inside and got to work. Fortunately, Brianna's hands pressing above and below the wound distracted Carrig from her cute, precious whimpering noises. I must be a total dick. I was stroking my aunt/clone mother with two fingers and teasing her bunghole with my thumb while pulling a knife from my uncle's chest. What is wrong with me? For that matter, Ishara could stymie the ambitions of some poor 'Runner', yet decided her prime minion doing this was a good thing? I work for some screwed up people; dead and alive. "Okay, I'm about to do it," I warned them both. Brianna was kind enough to roll her hips forward and ass up for more direct access. The blade came out, two fingers thrust into her depths, Carrig grunted more in annoyance than any physical distraction and Brianna gasped with piteous need. Before Carrig could start to connect A to B to C, I withdrew my fingers and zipped Brianna up. As I started to withdraw, Brianna acted like my loins were velcroed to her posterior. "Bad Girl," I quietly gave her a risqué reproach. She let me go. Then it hit me like a meteor; I had caused Brianna to orgasm, and hard, with one touch. In fact, she was still roughly riding through it. The mental discipline needed to mask her arousal was impressive. She had no control over her aromatic qualities, Lumpy's nostrils were working fine and his hateful, beady rodent-like eyes latched back on me. "I'm going to kill you," he screamed. Carrig definitely wanted to screw his sisters and they had certainly been denying him. I was curious how that had been accomplished. As he shoved Brianna aside, my suspicion about the seriousness of my wound to his chest was confirmed. I hadn't punched through his heavy corded muscle tissue; with a 10 cm blade. Fuck a duck. If Uncle Carrig got those horrifically huge paws of his on me, I'd be paper-mâché in a hurricane; turned into veal; the very tenderized kind. That wasn't going to happen because of a little factor called crowd density. Most notably, he was in the midst of a passel of Amazons invested in my well-being. A sliver of the O'Shea family dynamic took hold. As usual, it sucked to be me. The four O'Shea ladies rallied around Carrig, cautiously pulled him back then ushered him into the steely embrace of their security. Why did that mean it sucked to be me? In a momentary visual exchange, I understood what Lumpy instinctually sensed when he showed up today. His reign as the place-holder for me was coming to an end. The second my Aunts recruited me over to their side, he was a goner. Obviously they had all the real intellect on that side of the clan. Poor Lumpy merely stomped around and acted like the socially maladjusted homicidal maniac he was. Once the journey to Grandpa's house began, he would cease to have any value whatsoever. Behind his animalistic, dull eyes, we shared that. Tragically, but most likely by design, Carrig couldn't develop a new set of skills to adapt to the situation. The best example I could come up with was; Imagine the last of the super-large amphibious predators confronting the first of the true dinosaur apex carnivores. Somewhere in that tiny amphibian brain, it knew it was screwed. Evolution simply hadn't left it an 'out'. It couldn't get bigger, faster, or more ferocious. It had maxxed out those traits for that model. Nope, it was toast and nothing could save it. As I processed that, the rest of that train of thought came tumbling down. Lumpy was a dead man. He'd hit one of his sisters in front of me which was precisely what they wanted. Deidre hadn't come by my place on Monday to warn me that Uncle Blockhead was trying to kill me. She was prepping me for the knowledge that they had killed Lumpy; to save me. Those incestuous nightmares had trotted Uncle Carrig out like a Barnum  and  Bailey Sasquatch, to loud acclaim and fanfare. Before I could do some in depth research/check to see if this was the 'real' Sasquatch, he would vanish aka be killed to save me. Well played ladies. They should have taken into account I worked for Katrina Love. Katrina undoubtedly played three-dimensional chess on-line so she could lure out the true Vulcans trapped on Earth. My aunts' straw man wasn't going to cut it. Back to the reality that included my father never again enjoying my meandering thoughts over dinner. Back to the other curious 'real' players as they moved in, having soaked up my ceremony and our O'Shea family struggle. If there as a benefit in that misadventure, it was the look on the faces of the two most distant groups. The ambassadors had on their poker faces. I was two decades away from having a chance of deciphering them. Foolish mortals, both groups had brought women with them though. That was not to imply that women can't keep secrets; they are among the experts. It wasn't secrets they were defending though; it was the interaction between Brianna and me that opened them up. If you are a woman and you see a man bring a different woman to orgasm with his fingers in under ten seconds and you are NOT intrigued, you have been sexually neutered. Even if you are a lesbian, you want your lover to pick up that technique. From the level of interest coming my way, I could tell what their bosses/associates really thought of me. The lady who was already thinking how to pull me aside at the reception was also projecting that I had piqued her co-workers, despite their feigned disinterest. The one who was plotting out how to disguise herself as a maid, so she could hide in my bathroom closet until I came in for a shower this evening. Then the feigned interrogation/instructional demonstration could begin, which told me they had chosen to not leave Chicago today despite previous travel plans. The three assholes won the social dare contest and approached me next. They were cool, somewhat disdainful and not a party to the murderous program that led us here today. They were still Condotteiri, thus my enemies and slayers of my Dad. "Mr. Nyilas," a smooth talking Canadian male began, "I wish to pass on the condolences of; " "I know it was you," I broke in. The Canadian; Ottawa, I thought; stopped talking, allowing me to vent. "You killed my father, you fucks. Now here is your 'I got drunk and stuck my cock in a meat grinder only to discover some other moron plugged it in' bullet to the brain. I am not only Cáel Nyilas, I am Cáel Ishara and Cáel, grandson of Cáel O'Shea," I narrowed my vision to menacing slits. "I will let you figure out which Goddess is Ishara as well as the convoluted genetics that has resurrected male Amazons. I want you to know that my father was the Head of House Ishara. You killed a Factor of the Illuminati, the 'Voice' of one of the Nine Clans, one of your own Generals, a Grand Master of the Egyptian Rite, a Ba Wang of the 7 Pillars, or a Chosen Son or Daughter, of Earth  and  Sky "That's right," I let the fear sink in. "This goes beyond a breach, Dumbass. You BROKE the Truce and have ended the Protocols by killing an Amazon leader. I'm sure claims of ignorance by your Generals will be taken for the empty blathering they are. It is time for your blood to soak the sacred soil of my father's place of entombment." Having buried him and his two cohorts in a rockslide of truth, my final bluff passed unrevealed for the empty threat it was. I could see by the looks in their eyes. Amazons didn't care about law enforcement. They would kill those three, vanish into the surrounds then slink back to their secret compounds. It was how the Condotteiri thought Amazon's worked. "Or," I grumbled, "Are you going to make me and my sisters hunt you down and work for it. Killing you with our knives is going to be;” I was saying when their retreat began. I was going to say 'messy'. Those three took a half-dozen steps back then ran for it. Now the stage was fully set. The three members of the Nine Clans came next. I took a totally different tone. Selena stepped up to speak, bowing as she started to speak. "We wish;” she started. There was a lot of interrupting going on today. "Please do not bow to me," I requested softly. "We have fought and it seems inappropriate to me that, without there being a martial decision, we cannot be sure who should be more respectful to whom," I suggested. Selena quickly switched gears. She and her two female companions were now openly staring at me. "My Sith Lady is most likely preparing for trouble at my most vulnerable point," I told Selena. "I'm much more trouble than I first appear," I added. A hiccup in the conversation took place. "You are the male Head of an Amazon House; how?" Selena questioned. "My father and the fathers before him carried the genes of the original Ishara. When Her daughters died out, the legacy fell to me," I explained. Really smart girls; really, really smart girls. "You do not have any daughters, so your first born daughter will be the next Head of your House," the Hashashin noted quickly. "Of any line?" Ah, the siren call of 'please have unprotected sex with me, Mr. Studmuffin. Not only will I walk bow-legged for a week afterwards, I'll have a political tool to use for a lifetime.' "Yes, that is true. Please understand, unless you can catch a thrown tomahawk with your feet, I can't say you are at the top of the list," I sighed. "Speaking of the acrobat of my dreams, how are you doing Miyako?" I knocked away at the barrier between our respective groups. I could hardly be considered an Amazon if I wasn't stacking the odds against the Condotteiri, now could I? On came that child-like Nipponese girl's smile that made me want to double-check her ID for proof of age. "It is recovering nicely. Thank you, Ishara-sama," she smiled warmly. "May I see?" I inquired. Miyako nodded so I went down until I was balanced on the balls of my feet. She deftly slipped out of one of her shoes, placed her foot on my knee then began rolling up the pants leg until the bandage was revealed. In the past few hours my medical knowledge had not increased one iota. I was pretty sure that Miyako knew what this doctor's visit was really all about. I gently massaged her leg from ankle to knee, examining it for flaws and weaknesses. I received some manna from Heaven when I stumbled upon a muscle spasm in her foot arch. I worked it out in under thirty seconds and she gave me a musical murmur of relief when I was done. I put her shoe back on and rolled down her trouser leg. "I would still like you to see our medic if you could spare the half-hour," I offered as I stood. "If it would ease any misconceptions about our first encounter, I will do it," Miyako changed her mind from last night. My next neural misfire was 'Did I pack enough condoms to do all these girls I've been promising to fuck since I got here?' "Estere Abed," the thinly-veiled applicant to be the mother of my first child introduced herself. I was at my father's funeral, I'd been hit with the realization that my incestuous aunts are going to emasculate the uncle I'd just met before they kill him, and I was talking to a woman with skin the color of well-seasoned Oak, eyes as dark as expresso-roasted coffee beans (so deeply brown they were almost black), a pale turquoise, virtually transparent pretend-burqa, with inner, skimpy clothing bits keeping her barely street-legal and visualizing what our daughter would look like. "I am of Kurdish extraction," she lowered her head minutely. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Not only was a-bed something I was seriously considering with this woman, Estere was a Kurdish name of Old Persian extraction. It meant Ishtar; who was the advanced incarnation of Ishara. Bitch; aimed up at my Matron Goddess and Ancestral Mother turned Dominatrixes of my soul. "How; how mystically convergent that is," I grumbled. "I apologize. Me and my matron Ball-buster are exchanging psychic barbs at the moment. Had you somehow predicted this would have happened, I would be happier. With my luck though, this is accidental from the perspective of the mortal plane, thus a point of incredible annoyance to me right now." "Do you often talk to your ancestors?" Estere inquired politely. "Only after I've done something bad," I groaned. "Usually my Goddess is short on instructions yet always ready with 'I told you so'." "How can she chastise you for doing wrong if she fails to give you direction?" Estere was so sincere. I had to keep in mind she was a professional librarian with the nasty habit of misfiling people's lives. "I can tell you don't deal with the Spirit World much," I gave a sad grin. "The last time she gave me a prod, I was staring down a life sentence in a dog cage; after I was condemned, not before." "You escaped," she reminded me with a sparkle. I gave a harsh laugh. "No; no, I didn't," I said. "I'll prove it." I lashed out at Estere. She turned my strike aside and was about to do something I assumed would be unfortunate for me when she restrained herself. "See, Estere, you've been doing this most of your life. I'm a college kid who had a good fortune to meet and be guided by a series of stellar women." She nodded. She didn't understand yet she wanted to remain sympathetic. "I'm playing catch up in an incredibly lethal chess match," I continued. "My advantage is I'm not fuck-nuts crazy like the rest of you people. I don't mean to insult you. I simply want to make it clear how I feel. All the societies are spiritually malformed blights on reality; evil, twisted and predatory." "But you like us," she observed. "I'm going to Hell," I risked much by brushing her nose with my finger from brow to the edge of the veil. "I might as well enjoy the journey." Since I returned with all the fingers I started out with, I could tell she appreciated my caress. Our other guests were getting restless, so I had to end our interaction there. A lone man approached. He looked to be a Turkish/Mongolian mixture and he was uncomfortable with the way the situation had developed. I doubt I had offended him. It was much more the scope of this informal meeting had gone way above his pay grade. As he was from the Earth  and  Sky, the Amazons' hostility simmered. I countered that by being as civil as possible. The emissary, Iskender, gave his condolences, I thanked him for his respect and entered into a small conversation. When he figured out who the Magyar were, he smiled. Iskender was a Kyrgyz, a Turkish people from Central Asia, and we bonded over our male progenitors having saddled up on our nomad ponies, making Eurasia tremble. I was putting forth the effort to make him feel welcome. That was the message for him to take home. Not all the Amazons were going to have their knee-jerk reaction to the E and S's goal. Next came the Seven Pillars, mainly because the Egyptians seemed ready to wait for the grass to devour them before coming my way. Now I had to pillage the vaults of my crafty interpersonal skills to do this correctly. Two men, endowed with as much racial supremacy as Ursula, if not more, introduced themselves. Slight bowing, polite English and the proper, rehearsed words flowed from their mouths. They didn't look down on me; the reason being that behind their perfect civility, they considered me and mine to be inconsequential. The nice female of an indeterminate South Asian lineage had that haunted look of someone made to do horrible things just to survive. A flash of the macabre dumped a memory of her strangling homeless people in some back alleys with barbed wire; so it would hurt them both; training, Seven Pillars style. "Thank you for paying your respects at my father's grave," I started. They hadn't, btw. "I only ask for two things, please," I added humbly. "May I see her palms for a moment?" I asked the man. The woman was clearly a servant; some sort of Palace Guard/Fuck Slave. The leader nodded. The girl was never consulted. Her hands came forward and they rolled so that I saw the scars on her palm; screw you, Ishara. I don't want to care about her. My day planner was more than full with anguish as it was. No answer. "I appreciate it," I smiled. I waited, keeping eye contact. "Was there something else?" the leader finally gave in. "Oh yes," I smiled and nodded. "Don't get in our way. Behave, stay put on that rotting, rubble pile of a decadent and faded civilization you call Heaven and let us do what needs to be done." "Is that clear enough, or do I need to send you both home with your irradiated testicles in jars?" I kept politely smiling and nodding. I was threatening to make them eunuchs with the bonus of having their precious genetics rendered useless. The girl was giving off minute reactive tremors. That was okay. I had been anything, but quiet. Twenty Amazons were ready and willing to make my threat a reality. I wasn't sure how they would break into Fermi Labs for the radiological material, but their resourcefulness never failed to amaze me. The two guys from the Seven Pillars were standing there, not sure what to do next. I had insulted and threatened them; emissaries. Didn't they realize Amazons had been killing poor bastards entreating them for peace for several millennia? "Beat it," I snapped with authority. "I'm done with you. Take my words back to your masters and pray they excuse your gutless reaction. Don't let the airport hit you in the ass." Ugly American? I was the God Damn Bearded Woman/Dog Boy American and their facades were finally fraying around the edges and not the least because going home and telling their bosses my exact words was going to be; well, the positive spin they put on it had better be impressive. They left with their confident poise while the Egyptians approached with a bit of trepidation. Calling me erratic and volatile was being overly kind. My bet was the older male was in charge, but my age and lusty actions convinced them to put the younger woman forward. The younger male bodyguard wasn't even paying attention to me. If the shit went south, he knew he was a goner. "Greetings Cáel Ishara, it seems," she offered my hand to shake. In Old Kingdom Egyptian he said; "May the Blessed Isis bring understanding to this greeting," I countered. Both she and the old man blinked. The rest was in the Egyptian of Ramses and Seti. "It is wonderful to see you speak our sacred tongue; or a close proximity," she smiled. Not only was she generally happy, she was also pretty sure a very unfortunate confrontation was not in the offing. The bodyguard knew of the language but not enough to make out what was being said. The young lady and old man were more than happy to switch to this rare form of communication. We chatted. Things like funerary rites, thoughts on the afterlife and the role of the supernatural in the modern world all came up. No secrets were exchanged and we actually went over some ancient jokes and ribald tales. Buffy's coughing brought us out of our reverie. They taught me the proper Egyptian Rite greeting and farewell, departing in peace. The Amazons were stirring. It was time to head to the cars then on to the wake. "I do not understand you," Javiera grumbled. "You insulted multiple people, including threats of death and dismemberment. You struck and stabbed; something, but not before he knocked a women nearly three meters. I am not even sure that; relative of yours qualifies as human." "I don't know how to approach you and that woman/aunt/whatever," she continued. "Was that incest, public sex, or sexual assault since I didn't hear her give permission for you to do; that?" Whoops; jealousy. Nicole was a half-step back so she could hide her insidious smirk. She already knew I was a bad, bad boy. "I don't know if this makes it better, or worse, but that; those women are not just my aunts. They are the genetic duplicates of my mother and if you think it is funny that they look to be about my age; you wouldn't be alone," I sighed. "Is your mother dead?" she seethed. "Normally, I would take a Death Certificate, mortuary report and a grave marker to be enough. Not with you." "When I was seven years old I saw her very sick in the hospital. I never saw her die, or the cremation, so with my crazy life I'm not going to swear that she's no longer of this Earth," I confessed. "The only one who would know for sure would be; " "Your father," Javiera answered. I began crying all over again. That was it. When I wanted someone dead, I was going to personally put a stake in their hearts, starting with me. This shit has gone down the rabbit hole. In that transitory micro-burst, I flipped. Not to crazy. I had spent my life believing in what was real; working out, girls, books, literature and art; things I could touch and feel, even if it was the air escaping my lungs as words, notes and sounds sprang forth. Now I had to take things on faith. Not 'faith' as in the calculated possibilities which is what most people really meant. I had to accept that there were things beyond my senses that I could not measure, or codify, and move my life forward understanding the total lack of a solid foundation I was basing my actions on. I needed to see Aya so much it hurt. "Are you going to arrest me?" I hiccupped. I was done bawling like a bereft child for a while. "For what?" Javiera snapped. "If I took this insanity before any judge I know, I'd be on Administrative Leave, if not out of a job altogether." "Oh yes," Nicole winked at me. "I was so looking forward to parading out the four identical aunts and the uncle/part-primate." Javiera shot Nicole a dirty look. "We need to go," Buffy reminded me. The only snag was the FBI guys, backed up by some Chicago PD, who intercepted Javiera as she walked with me to our limo. She had to separate for a minute to assure them she hadn't been kidnapped. After some rumbling, we were gifted with one FBI 'bodyguard' for Javiera. That was laughable. If a psychotic fit seized us, there would be two dead government officials instead of one. "Did you really stab that guy?" Special Agent Street Moslin asked once we were on our way. "My family believes in tough love," I muttered. "What sort of organized crime outfit are you with?" was next. "Pre-teen beauty pageants," I sighed. "You wouldn't believe how cutthroat they are." "It is a crime to lie to a criminal investigator," he countered. "And if this was an interrogation," Nicole sizzled, "you would have to Mirandize him." "He has already been Mirandized," the puppy yipped. "Oh? On the charge of Criminal Conspiracy to commit; clarify the charge for me," Nicole grinned. Street looked to Javiera. "What? Special Agent Moslin, consider yourself to not know a damn thing about what is going on and proceed from there," Javiera informed him. The poor bastard looked perplexed. "I will put your situation in context. The woman to my side (Rachel) is about to slit your throat. The woman (Buffy) next to Ms. Lawless is going to snap your neck. They do not give a crap that you, or I, are federal agents. The issue is not what will you do, it is which one gets to you first," Javiera glared at him. "Clear?" SA Street wasn't done yet. "They will get away with it because I suspect they already have such a contingency worked out," Javiera educated him. Javiera was yet Another really clever lady. "Call for our back-up vehicle, pull into a private driveway where you cannot legally follow us, abandon the vehicle, get picked up and leave the city on a private aircraft to another nation," Rachel sounded bored. That was so nice of her to assist Javiera out that way. "Thank you," I told Rachel. "That was very helpful of you." "I want the male to shut-up," Rachel answered. "He's grating. Worse, he's making me wish Pamela was with us and that is so wrong." I held up a finger to forestall Street. "Honestly Dude, she's is not messing with your head. She wants you to shut up, so please be quiet," I urged him. I conceptualized the assessment he was making. Crap. "Guy, whatever workout routine you think gives you the edge is what she does to warm up in the morning," I pleaded. Street had the 'she's only a girl' look about him. "Her combat training is with live rounds, real weapons and a plethora of scrapes, cuts and broken bones. I have little doubt that she's killed people, some in cold blood." "You being Top Shot at the local range and a Judo Champ isn't going to cut it," I emphasized. "You think she's some kind of Special Forces operator?" he mocked me. Javiera and Nicole got nervous. I didn't. Beginner's Amazon Psychology; male opinions do not matter. Rachel and Buffy weren't insulted because he was a chattering chimp and nothing more. "Have you ever heard of an all-female Special Forces unit?" I prodded. "No," he snorted. I kept staring; and staring; and then the idea began creeping in. "Where do you train?" Street looked at Rachel. Rachel was looking at him, not 'at' him. "Please Rachel," I requested. That was really for Javiera's benefit. "Physical training started at age five, weapons training at nine, survival testing at twelve, craft training at fifteen, and acceptance at nineteen," she rattled off in a monotone. "I am thirty." "What is 'craft training'?" Javiera inquired. "Learning to kill people and destroy things," she began. "My specialties are small unit tactics, security operations, electronic countermeasures and Recon Sniper," Rachel replied. "I am an accepted close combat trainer and handheld weapon expert. Do I need to explain any of that?" Pause. Street snorted. "Do you ever sleep?" Street joked. Rachel looked to me then rolled her eyes. "Yes. Six hours; every day unless duty intervenes," she said. "Right; so, what martial arts style do you practice?" he asked. "Not one you have ever heard of," Rachel took a deep breath. "Try me," Street entreated. "I've practiced with several." "Male, do I look like I enjoy talking to you?" Rachel glared. "To alleviate your obvious confusion, I do not. If you wish to lower the hostility level, hand me your pistol and the sap at your back. Your possession of said weapons in the presence of Cáel complicates my job. This is almost as irritating is restraining myself from taking them from you like the infant you are." "You think you could?" Street challenged her. "I was with the 82nd Airborne in Afghanistan." "Special Agent Moslin, she doesn't care. You might as well have told her you were a weekend security guard at an amusement park," I reasoned. "In her mind, being born with a penis renders all your accomplishments so much hyperbole; kind of how her having tits lowered your respect for her as a fighter." That successful ended that diversion. (The wake) Life was wonderful. I walked in the door of the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion, Charlotte pulled me into a vacant side room and handed me a secure phone. She mouthed the name of the person on the other end. "Hayden," I sighed to my High Priestess. "Ishara (not using my first name was a bad sign), I have heard a report that you have declared war on the Condotteiri," she gave me the 'I'm going to skin you alive' purr. "Yep and I urinated on the Seven Pillars too," I confirmed. "Don't worry about the Illuminati. I've got that alliance sown up." "I'm going to have a member of the Nine Clans give me my first born, Ishara daughter, so that prospective alliance looks good as well," I added. "I even managed to be diplomatic with Earth  and  Sky. It is not even noon yet either. No need to thank me. Knowing you are thinking passionate thoughts about me is enough." Charlotte looked like her eyes were going to bug out. "We are clear on the fact that there are fifty two other houses in the House, aren't we Cáel?" Hayden murmured. "Hey now," I reposed, "you said to not pick a fight inside Havenstone. You didn't say anything about these sons of bitches on the outside. I also added nineteen new members. Ishara rejected one who I now think was a closet Man-hater's man-hater." "I want you to come back to Havenstone immediately and keep your mouth shut," she commanded. "The Council will be rightly furious." "With me?" I asked. "Of course with you," Hayden growled. "With the aid of the Federal Assistant Attorney, I received computer discs with extensive and sensitive data on Havenstone, including pictures and locations of Sydney and Marilynn, your daughter and granddaughter," I lied. "The feds seized the Condotteiri's private jet." Silence. "What? Why am I only now hearing of this?" Hayden inquired with a deathly calm. "Do you want me to work with the feds to finish hunting down those last two killers while I send someone back with the data?" I persisted. An oddly longer pause. "Katrina insists there is no data," Hayden seethed. "Of course there is no data," I snapped back. "Unlike you, I'm loyal to EVERY MEMBER of the Host, not just the ones I approve of! If I had something that important, it would be on the way to you, if not already in your hands. My House Head has been murdered. Support me; don't support me. It doesn't change that reality. You have lowered your worth in my eyes, Hayden. We will talk of this when I return." And I hung up. Charlotte kept gaping at me. "Do you think I was clear enough, Charlotte?" I asked her. "Yes Ishara," she whispered. "I doubt a single ancestor misconstrued your wrath." That stopped me in my tracks. A rank and file Amazon using my house name was perfectly acceptable. A Council 'equal' saying it was the equivalent of your pissed Mom yelling out your entire name. "You agree with me?" I blinked. "Had it been Fatima, Beyoncé, or Ngozi there would be no debate," Charlotte answered. "I don't like you; okay, beyond your physical magnetism I do not like you. You are still the Head of House Ishara and we believe that the ancestors move through you." By 'we' I imagine she meant Rachel's SD detachment. A social paradigm presented itself. Amazons were surprisingly democratic for such an ancient society. Their bonds of sisterhood gave them greater liberty than any other group I'd heard of. All could take their grievances to the highest authority. They could hate me and die for me at the same time, in the same way Charlotte could be honest at that moment. I was her superior in rank yet her equal in blood. "You realize that if you tell Buffy about this she'll beat me black and blue," I teased Charlotte. "No can do, Ishara," she chuckled. "She's your sister and, quite frankly, you wove this disaster and if anyone deserves to remind you of the trouble you've wrought, it is her." "I would call you a heartless Amazon, but that's kind of redundant," I glowered playfully. I couldn't hide with Charlotte in the side room forever. It was my father's wake after all. Out I went and there was Buffy waiting for me. "We have a problem," Buffy murmured to me as I headed to the main reception area/family room. "There are some questions concerning your Aunt Stella and the Ishara legacy." "Thank God," I muttered. My crisis was momentarily sidelined. I moved into the gathering, letting Helena and Buffy bring the Amazon to my corner. "Quick and easy," I stated as the last one j

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

We discuss Raygun from the olympics and talk about taking time for yourself as a parent. You can join our Wally Show Poddies Facebook group at www.facebook.com/groups/WallyShowPoddies

Emi Perry grew up in Japan, but moved back to the United States in 2011 to attend college, where she studied exercise science. She was a runner before sustaining a spinal cord injury in 2017. She started competing in wheelchair racing and then para triathlon in 2022. Emi joined the resident team in Colorado Springs the following year and just represented the United States at the 2024 Paralympic Games in Paris.

How best to stop the spread of a tiny beetle that could have a huge impact on the future health and profits of UK forestry? From the end of this month all new planting of spruce, with a handful of exceptions, will be banned across much of the south east of England. The restrictions form part of the Government's plans to control the bark beetle, a pest which has caused significant damage to forests across Europe. It was first found in the UK in 2018, this latest measure is a new addition to current rules restricting the felling and movement of spruce trees, their bark and their wood.Environmental groups say the Scottish Government is failing the nation's marine environment by leaving large areas of the seabed unprotected. It's ten years since the introduction of Marine Protected Areas, but restrictions have still not been fully implemented. We're talking about how we manage water in the landscape all this week, so we've been to see how re-wiggling a river works on a restored floodplain in Wiltshire. Presented by Caz Graham and produced by Beatrice Fenton.

Wiggling my arms and praying

The Peddler & the Fairy: Part 8 Shopping adventures. In 10 parts, by Scholarly Mori. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. The trio made their way back to the bustling ring of the shopping district, stopping in front of a statue of what must have been some iconic blacksmith when Devin turned to the girls. "I have a shop I want to visit. I thought of a few presents I wanted to buy the two of you. Do you mind getting a head start and finding a seamstress? Oh, and Azalea, can I borrow the drawing you did of; my; er; me?" [[MORE]] Azalea gave him a quizzical look. "You mean the one of your penis? Sure." She dug around her bag, found her notebook, and handed it to him. Fluttering around his head excitedly, she demanded, "Does it have something to do with our presents? Does it? What is it? Tell me!" "Azalea, dear. Herd-mate probably wants to surprise us, or else he wouldn't be going alone," interrupted Reina. "Ahhh, okaaaay; fine, but in return, we'll surprise you with our new outfits!" "Won't you need formal attire too, herd-mate?" the female Whitehorn asked. "I have an outfit from when I attend guild banquets. I'll wear that." Devin handed Reina two pouches. "I know I said I wasn't going to spend the money from our potential client, but I don't know the current market price for formal attire, so if possible, try to haggle or negotiate a lower price." She put the pouches in her belt. "I'll try. Should we meet you here in three hours?" "That's a good idea. We can have a late lunch together and then go back to Jeni's to change," Devin suggested and then waved, disappearing into the crowd. "Shopping time with Reina! I want to wander around and window shop for a while," the fairy announced, flitting ahead of her fellow mate. "Alright." —---------- As a native, Devin knew most of the shortcuts between all the major city blocks. He was calculating the time he'd need to get to the workshops he had in mind when he had a sudden realization. Mavis said a carriage would be sent for them, but he had failed to mention where they were staying. He hustled back to the post office to inform the nonplussed secretary of the forwarding information for their inn. She informed him she'd take care of it personally, and he left, dashing back across town. Nearing the western gate of the city, he slowed his pace, taking a moment to lean against the corner of a building near an alley to catch his breath. "Lovely day for a walk!" said a rough, squeaky voice. He looked over his shoulder to spot a pint-sized individual with arrogant, ruby eyes leaning against the opposite wall. Not sure if they were talking to him or not, Devin ignored them. The mystery figure pushed back its mud-stained hood. Two substantial, rounded ears covered in gray fur with a soft pink interior twitched in expectation. One of the ears was missing a chunk. She brushed away her matted auburn hair. "Are your girls going to be ok with you not around?" He put a hand on his dagger. "Is there a reason I should be aware of why they wouldn't be ok?" She slunk back. "Hey now, let's not get hasty. It's not that I'm interested in them specifically. I'm more interested in what I can do for you or for them." She made a little bow, and the edges of her cloak fell open to expose her bare midriff. A thick belt covered her small chest. A narrower belt wrapped around her waist. On the lower belt was a run-down pouch with a broken button and a rusty dagger attached. Two thinner belts crisscrossed around her hips, meeting between her legs and leaving the rest of her undernourished frame uncovered. "I've been following you; sorry, no, that came out wrong. I noticed you enter the city and saw a curious sight: a rare Whitehorn, and an even rarer fairy, both together with a well-to-do merchant. I have an eye for opportunity and wondered if you might be in need of a guide." "I'm a native of this city." "Oh." She seemed a little taken aback. "Well, then; how about I guide your companions around; seeing as you seem to have other errands?" "I usually don't make it a habit of entrusting things I care about to those I haven't established trust with," Devin stated with little emotion. "Now, now! Don't be like that. I'm just a hungry ratgirl who's trying to make some coin. Trust needs to start somewhere, right? How bout my name?" She opened her arms placatingly. "The name's Chitchat. It's what most of my clients know me as. I'm sort of a rat-about-town. I take all kinds of jobs. Sometimes I'm an information trader, other times a guide. I'm pretty confident in my knowledge of most of the stores in town and where to find them." Seeing him ponder her request, she added, "You don't want your friends getting lost or taken advantage of while you're away, do ya?" The offer was tempting, but the person making it gave him pause. She looked trustworthy enough, but anyone could throw on some dirty rags and rub some dirt on their face. Her gaunt features were not so easy to fake, however. While violent and major crimes were fairly rare, there was no lack of theft, bribery, and petty crime in a city where merchandise, and often times cut-throat commerce were common trades. Merchants were no strangers to risk. What required skill was knowing how to manage it and, if possible, use it to your advantage. That didn't apply to his girls, though. As his treasure, he felt it unlikely to be too cautious with them. Yet, it seemed in bad taste to be so miserly with someone as down-and-out as this girl. "I won't be gone long. I'm sure they'll be fine." "Then how about I offer my help to you. Wherever you're going, I might be able to suggest a cheaper alternative." Chitchat worried he was taking too much time to decide and tried to press him. "Please, sir, it's been a long time since I've eaten." She tactically gripped his arm, pressing herself into it. Devin expected her to smell worse than she did. Something between sour wine, wet fur, and perhaps desperation? It was, at the very least, a sense of urgency. He wasn't averse to helping someone in need. He often tossed a few coins to the most needy-looking. She squeezed his arm. "Isn't it better to earn one's bread by being industrious instead of begging?" Devin decided to test her a bit. "I won't be gone long, and the girls should be fine." With a curt brusqueness, he dislodged her from his arm and walked away. Chitchat looked startled at the sudden shift in attitude. She was going to make another offer, but he was already several strides away. Devin ducked behind a corner and looked back toward the alley. Chitchat fell back against the brick wall and sank to the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest. 'Doesn't look like she has any accomplices, nor is she asking anyone else. In his experience, charlatans tended to immediately move to another target if their first victim didn't prove fruitful. Guess I'll take a chance.' He returned to the dejected ratgirl, but she didn't look up until he was right in front of her. "What are you doing back?" "I changed my mind." He showed her five vols. "Half up front and half when I return. Give this to them, so they know I hired you." Wrapping the coins into his handkerchief, he held it out to her. Warily, she held out her hand and took it. "But that is way too, " "I'll be back in three hours. They should be wandering around the clothing ward." Before she could say anything more, he left again, leaving her bewildered. Without further delay, Devin arrived at his destination in the southern half of the city, on the border of the old-town district. 'This can't be right. It's too small!' Devin stood in a vacant alley, nestled at the end of an empty street. He thought this was the address to the craftsman he was seeking. Rumors told of a woodworker who took unusual commissions, but he had never been to this part of town. All that stood before him was a marble wall with an elaborate limestone door deeply inlaid with runes. The runes he used to keep his goods cool or used in everyday life were from a branch language, a dialect of the original. The runes in front of him, while similar geometrically, were older. Devin had no idea what they meant, and few people probably did due to their baffling complexity. Aside from syntax, the timing could also change the meaning, depending on the time of day or even the season. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about any of that. A frayed cord hung to the side of the door with a sign that read: Ring once: pickup Ring twice: order Ring thrice: delivery Ringing twice, he felt a slow rumble, a grinding of stone-on-stone, under his feet as a crease appeared down the left edge of the door frame. From the blackness, an unnaturally strong and rocky hand grabbed his shirt and yanked him inside. The entrance sealed shut, leaving them in darkness. He put out a foot to steady himself but felt only air. As he stumbled, the strong grip held him up while simultaneously pulling him down what he quickly realized was a stairway. "Uh, excuse me? Could you stop tugging on my clothes?" His escort remained silent but paused. He felt his shirt let go, and his wrist was grabbed instead to continue with their slow, lumbering footfalls. "Er; if it's not too much trouble, could you tell me if this is the workshop of Antoris the woodsmith?" Silence. The unusual reception had him a little on edge, but a Dwarven workshop being underground most certainly wasn't unheard of. Reaching out his left hand, he felt a stone railing. It felt curved, and by the way the faint gleam of light below them kept rotating without passing behind them, he guessed they were on a circular stairwell. The air, aside from being cool and dry, was surprisingly fresh. A faint draft issued from beneath them. He lost track of their descent after the fiftieth step, but they soon passed through an entrance in the floor. The room opening below them was the same as the one above, only this one was lit with purple and orange crystals sticking out of the rock walls. Calling them a wall would have been an injustice to the creator. Hewn from the rock were massive pillars shaped like leafless trees with expansive branches holding the stairway and the ceiling aloft. Between the pillars were murals -- illustrations of rocky figures planting trees and maybe flowers. He could now see his silent chaperone in the light. The most noticeable feature was her height. She towered over him. He guessed she was nearly nine or ten feet tall. Initially, he thought she was a gnome since they were known to be a quiet type of earth elemental. However, he dismissed that idea since her movements weren't quite fluid or natural. The smoothness of her skin and the massive, spherically cut rubies acting as joints were too unnatural. She was naked; naked as a white marble statue could be. She didn't possess any of the finer details one might find on a completed work, namely nipples or genitalia, and he wondered if maybe she was an unfinished or trial design. Whatever the case, the creator seemed to appreciate large breasts and long hair. He didn't expect an answer but attempted, "Are you a golem? Can you take me to your creator?" For the first time, she stopped and regarded him. A pair of rough-cut ruby eyes stared down at him, processing his request. Golems had varying levels of intelligence. Most had at least basic commands they accepted or understood even if they couldn't speak. She obliged, though not in the way he expected. Feeling himself go weightless, she scooped him up in her arms. He wasn't feeling very princess-like, despite being in the cliche carrying position, and he flailed a bit as she set off with a faster gait down the stairs. Devin calmed down and appreciated the faster speed even though he couldn't appreciate the wall murals at leisure. She looked down over her generous chest, squeezed him tight against it and jumped the rest of the way to the floor below. Neither the floor nor her legs were soft, so he felt a big jolt from the landing. She made a sharp turn upon landing and passed through one of four archway exits from the room. Plunged into darkness once more, they passed swiftly through another archway. As she slowed her pace, Devin's jaw dropped. They were in an extensive cavern with cerulean-colored pools separated into square, uniform sections. Inside each pool was a singular, tall, and narrow rock-like structure, each of a different color. "What is this place?" She pointed at herself, then at the pool. "This is how you were made?" Leaving his question unanswered, she passed through a wide door on the opposite side of the room and unceremoniously deposited him in the center of a brightly-lit room that smelled dry, dusty, and yet sweet. He stood up, brushing sawdust and woodchips off himself, and beheld the magnificent master carpenter's dream that lay about him. Planks of varying trees, cut and sanded, leaned neatly against three walls surrounding large workbenches. On the left and right tables were hand saws, chisels, planes, and adzes were neatly arranged around half-finished products. Through a hole next to the door frame he had entered, water flowed from the previous room. It wrapped around the edge of one wall and down through a hole in the floor. It likely powered the vertical saw that adorned a corner. At the center table, a red-bearded dwarf sat whittling on something Devin didn't recognize. Without looking up, the dwarf bellowed, "Ruby! Why in the name of the Great mountain did ya come through the pool room?" The golem, Ruby, made no attempt to answer and instead took her place by his left side. Without receiving a greeting or introduction, Devin stood awkwardly and said, "You must be Antoris the Dwarf!" "Is that what yer eyes be tellin' ya's, or do you just have a gift for compulsively stating the obvious?" "Sorry, I meant no disrespect. I was unsure if this was the right place, given the; um; abrupt greeting by your assistant and the location of your workshop." "Woodworking is my profession. Gems and golems are my hobbies. Expensive hobbies, I might add. I don't like going above ground -- too many people to deal with! Introductions, especially so. I'm also not overly fond of talking about most things or answering questions, so place your order and don't ramble." Devin handed him a slip of paper with Azalea's drawing. The dwarf looked at it for a moment, frowning. "Yer wants me to make; these?" He sighed and slumped on his stool. "My first customer in weeks and they turn out to be a pervert." "It's not for me. It's for a fairy friend." "I don't care who it's fer." I can make these tiny; toys, but I don't have any ravishwood big enough to make the big'un. You want the same wood for all of them?" "Does that mean you'll make it?" "Are ya daft on top of having poor eyes? I got a reputation for being reclusive but won't be havin' one for turnin' down a customer." Devin thought for a moment. "Cedar for the box, white oak for the knife-sheath, and ravishwood for the others. I've heard the last is a bit rare and hard to find, so I'll pay double the normal price." "Ya bet yer coin purse yer will. I hope you don't mean to stuff your fairy with this!" "The big one is for someone else." The dwarf showed no surprise. "Should take me about two-and-a-half hours. Ya can take a seat over there." He pointed a stubby finger to an overly-decorated stool in the corner. Turning to Ruby, he whispered something into her ear, and they both separated: She went into a back room while Antoris disappeared into a side room and then returned with several choice pieces of lumber. Devin watched him measure, mark, cut, and repeat until he grew bored. "Go ahead; ask yer questions." "Excuse me?" "Questions! Everyone has them." "But you said, " "My hobby is the small exception. Now, go ahead before it starts leaking out ya ears. Ya have the same look ever'one has when they see ma girls." "Oh, then; um; do they have names?" "The one er'brought a here, as you already heard, is Ruby. She's the third of four I've built. Sapphire and Emerald were the first and second rudimentary prototypes. They are out digging a new tunnel." "Who's the fourth?" "Diamond." Antoris rang a silver bell on the corner of the desk. From a different side room entered another golem. Earlier, Devin considered Ruby to look quite advanced, but she barely held a stalactite to her sister. Diamond was more normal in height and also naked, except for a craftsman's apron. Meticulous attention was given to her features. Her face was expressionless, fixed with either a neutral or gentle smile, depending on the angle. Her skin was glossy and smooth, with a glassy opaqueness overlaid to protect the milky white, tan and light-brown wood pattern underneath. Very fine veins of red-opal, and malachite-green just under her skin connected to the diamonds acting as her digits and joints. Her hair was chiseled to be long and wavy, a portion covering her left eye. She gracefully glided across the room on slender legs, her movements precise and willful. Assuming a demure position slightly behind and to the right of her creator, she faced Devin, bowed, and gave him a generous view of her cleavage. "I have an owlchemist friend who's working on her first golem," Devin commented. "What's 'er name?" "Jeni-feather, over in the manufacturing district." "Why does that name sound familiar? Oh, of course! Old man Nílo's assistant. I heard a rumor he took someone in. I thought it false since he's even more of a recluse than I am -- does all his business transactions via proxy. Maybe he felt he was getting too old for everything. How far along in her work is she?" "She's never showed me." "Poor friend who doesn't ask about their friend's hobbies -- especially those that involve pouring a large amount of their money, time, and life into it." "I can't argue with that," Devin lamented. "Diamond is my latest and first fully-complete construct," revealed the older dwarf proudly. "She's a masterful-looking piece of work," Devin agreed. "I'm especially proud of her eyes; multifaceted semi-precious gems." "They remind me of some insect demi-humans. Does she have, " The dwarf pulled Diamond's apron aside, revealing two pink nubs. "Rose quartz for her nips. Interchangeable cunt." "I like the amethyst clematis you have in her hair. My fairy friend has a dress of the same flower." "It's slow, delicate work carving flowers from gems but well worth it." "Is her body from stone or wood, and what are those veins?" "You saw those things in the other room, under the water? It's petrified wood -- more specifically, petrified dryad wood. Spotted a branch from an exotic merchant. Bought it for almost nothing since he thought it was just a pretty rock. It was a small piece, so I couldn't do much with it. I regrow and graft on bigger parts." "Why not just use regular stone or wood for all of them?" "because certain materials are more conductive to affinity. The grandfather of golemancy discovered a way to infuse one's own affinity, into inanimate objects. I ain't sure why it works, but things that were once alive conduct better, but other things can be used. My girl's core uses a chunk of amber," he explained while tapping a honey-colored teardrop embedded under her clavicle. A lot also comes down to what's available and what can be afforded." "Rarer materials; high cost. Makes sense." "And lastly, what the creator knows how to work with. Since I know a thing or two about mining, gems and rocks are easy enough for me to work with. All depends on the creator, but you can find a bit of a pattern depending where you go. There are very roughly three kinds. The middle kingdom's are generally made from clay, porcelain, and clockwork. Down in the desert lands, I've heard they use the flesh of their dead or some such morbid thing." "Feel free to pass any of this to your friend, though she probably knows most of it. Now let me get back to work." Devin took a seat. Not knowing what else to do, he decided to practice more with his glyph. —------------ Chitchat was usually more on her game when playing the poor, needy ratgirl, but it'd been a significant period since she'd eaten, and it was starting to affect her charisma. 'Thought I'd blown it with that clueless merchant. Can't believe he actually came back. Now, if I can just find those girls. Pretty sure I saw him give that Whitehorn some money. If I play my cards right, I can get paid and pick their pockets. That should feed me for maybe a few months!' Her nails gripped the cobblestone, expertly weaving and dodging through the forest of legs in the streets and alleys. Standing barely five feet on tiptoes, she decided to jump up on a barrel to search the many heads and ears for her quarry. —----------------------- "Reina! How do I look?" Azalea turned around to show off the hairpins holding together twin-tails. Before Reina could comment, "What's that smell? Roast corn! "Azalea dropped the hairpins in the bemused merchant's hands and zipped off toward a stall with a grill. "I wonder what spices they use! Trade secret? Understandable. So much delicious-looking food! Sweets I've never seen, fruits I've never tasted! Oh, what are those over there? They are what? Snowglobes? How do you get the snow in them? Are they edible? Speak up! I can't hear you!" Reina was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Aside from being in a new place, she was doomed to act as fairy herder for the day. 'How does such a small body have so much energy? She can't seem to focus on anything for more than thirty seconds.' She was happy to see her friend thoroughly enjoying herself but was afraid the endless distractions would delay them from their responsibilities. "Mmmphthigsgood!" "Azalea, swallow first, and where did you get that food?" "That nice man over there was selling some bread filled with jam. Said I was cute and gave me one. Try some!" Azalea bit off a generous portion with jam, pressed her petite lips to Reina's, and used her tongue to push the morsel in. Normally, Reina wouldn't have minded, but they were in public. She blushed as the few passersby failed to hide smiles. "You're so adorable when you're embarrassed," Azalea teased. Feeling a little indignant at her own awkwardness, she swallowed, scooped the hyperactive fae close, and licked some jam off her cheek. "Careful! I might end up eating you instead." Azalea face lit up. "Once, Life-mate put me in his mouth when I was covered in his cum, to clean me. I was pretty out of it when it happened. I wouldn't mind experiencing it again when I'm more lucid. Or maybe I should smear some jam in a very particular place that's more fun to lick," she whispered. "But for now, here, you can have the rest. I wanna go look at other food stall." She stuffed the rest of the pastry into Reina's mouth and flew off. Reina was about to follow when she felt something on her foreleg. "Finally found you!" squeaked a small girl gasping for breath. "Why are there so many more people than usual today?" "Is this an unusual amount? I'm new to this city." "I know. Where'd your fairy friend go?" "Um, she was looking at candles, but now where'd she go? Oh, there she is. Do we know you?" "Hey, it's you!" exclaimed a returning Azalea, nibbling on a piece of honeycomb. "You know her?" "No, but remember I mentioned someone watching us. Same eyes." "You were watching us?" "I, er, " the ratgirl stammered. "Did you need our help with something?" "Help? Help, yes; yes, I came to offer my services. Your friend hired me to guide you around till he got back." "Herd-mate did? He didn't mention that earlier." Reina glanced at Azalea. "He thought of it after he left. Here's proof!" She held out Devin's handkerchief. Reina took the handkerchief and sniffed it. "Smells like him." "Oh, I want to smell, too! I miss him already!" Azalea declared as she dived into the handkerchief in Reina's hand. "He's only been gone twenty minutes, Azalea, and try not to get it sticky." Turning back to the ratgirl, " We are glad to have your guidance, Miss, ?" "Chitchat." "That's an interesting name," commented Azalea as she licked her fingers clean. "It's my working name." "Nice to meetcha. This is Reina, and you already heard my name. We were just wandering around looking for a seamstress." "One of us was. The other was stuffing her face," Reina teased. "It's not good to shop on an empty stomach," Azalea shot back. "That only applies to grocery shopping!" Reina countered. Chitchat put a hand to her chin. "Seamstress, eh? I know one nearby." "Oh good! We are quite ready, aren't we?" urged Reina, cupping Azalea in her hands and hugging her to her chest so she wouldn't fly off again. Chitchat took the lead. "Then off we go!" "Have you lived in this city all your life, Miss Chitchat?" asked Reina. "Yep, all nineteen years of it. When my parents died, I spent the rest of my childhood in an orphanage. When I turned eighteen, I decided I had enough of being told what to do, so I left." Chitchat continued to rattle on about the city and her many observations about its inhabitants and peculiarities. Azalea was content to be held between Reina's soft breasts until she spotted a fenced-off street entrance. Wiggling out of her pillowy cocoon, she poked her head over Reina's shoulder. "Why's that street blocked off? And why is it pink?" Chitchat looked where Azalea pointed. A tall, wooden fence, engraved with a depiction of naked shoppers covered with strategically placed leaves, separated the two roads. "Have you noticed the edges of some streets have colored cobble?" "No, " "Probably because someone was too enamored with window shopping," Reina jested. "It's a decency indicator. Numerous demi-humans have different feelings toward modesty. As a compromise with the more prudish nature of humans, the city council implemented a color system to indicate which sections of the city you're allowed to expose which parts of your body. Green, you have to be fully clothed. Yellow is for topless regions, mostly centered around the milking quarters. Pink allows full nudity, and red areas allow public sex but are strictly regulated to the nightworker parts of the city. Independent businesses may have a separate set of rules, so they'll have an indication by the door." "Can we go take a look, Reina? Pleeeeaase!?! Then we can go straight to the seamstress." Chitchat didn't say anything. She didn't visit these adult areas unless she was in haste for a shortcut, and even then, she didn't linger. "You know it's tough to say no when you give such pleading puppy-dog-girl eyes." Reina opened the pedestrian gate and passed through. The landscape on the opposite side was exactly as the other, except the leaves were removed. "Where are all the people?" wondered Azalea "These neighborhoods tend to cater to very specific merchandise and customers. Also, it's winter. Not too many people are gonna take their clothes off when it's cold." "Well, there might be one, " Azalea shimmered out her dress and handed it to Reina. She floated a few feet forward, her breasts heaving with nervousness. "This is more embarrassing than I thought it'd be." Reina folded the dress away. "I never imagined I'd hear you say that, considering you fly around without undergarments." "Of course, I get embarrassed, but have you noticed I fly under eye level all the time when we are not alone? Sneak peeks are only for you and life-mate." "And me, I suppose," observed Chitchat, trying not to look too closely. Uncharacteristically for her, Azalea made an attempt to cover herself. "Sorry, Miss Chitchat. I've been a little brazen today. "Now look who's adorable when she's embarrassed!" chuckled Reina, offering her dress back. Azalea waved her hands to decline. "It's alright. I don't personally visit these kinds of places, but a job is a job. I have to wonder, though. Your dress doesn't look especially warm. Aren't you cold?" "A little," Azalea admitted and lowered her arms. "My nipples are most certainly stiff, but if I get too cold, I'll just hug my little Whitehorn for warmth." She winked. "I feel so, exposed. Is this what Jyora felt like?" "You seem to be getting a thrill out of it all the same." Azalea rubbed her thighs together to highlight her dripping. "Maybe it is a little exciting." Azalea, feeling bolder, picked up the pace, peering into different storefronts. She was about to move on from a brick-lined building when the door caught her eye. "Let me guess; you want to go in there?" discerned Chitchat. Azalea nodded. "This is definitely an interesting shop! Just look how amazing this handle is!" "I am looking. Any place with a door handle shaped like a centaur penis, paired with a centaur mare vulva lock; Public nudity aside, I have a hard time imagining it as a place you'd like to investigate," Chitchat stated with slight embarrassment. Azalea floated up to Chitchat and put a hand on her shoulder. "I cannot leave an establishment with such eclectic taste unexplored, can I? Surely, this is the work of a forward thinker! Besides, it's good to have a healthy curiosity." "I think you've gone well beyond sexual curiosity into connoisseur territory." Reina grasped the shaft, surprised at the feel of realism, and pulled. Out billowed the acrid smell of metal and coal. Azalea grabbed the hand of a surprised Chitchat and flew in. "Sorry for the smoke. I'll be done in a second," boomed voice from somewhere in the building. "Look at this place! It's, " "Organized chaos?" Reina suggested. "Amazing! I never dreamed that a big city sold these kinds of things!!!" Floor-to-ceiling shelves, stuffed with sex toys, lined the walls. Some toys were familiar, others incomprehensible. Azalea's eyes sparkled as she darted here and there, taking in all the merchandise. "Reina, there are so many dildos! Even more than at Grandpa Gylan's farm!" Azalea had swiped her dress back and put it back on. She was gleefully looking over the display table. "Centaur, wolfman, I think this is a bunny boy's, and this is a catboy's?" She pulled a screw-shaped dildo from a drawer. "This one reminds me of mom's husband's, very porcine shaped." She pushed it through her circled fingers. "Momma said the thickness is mediocre, but the way the tip pokes at her cervix really turns her on, especially when it pushes it in." "Oh! Look what we have here, Reina! Recognize this?" Azalea picked up a skinny black toy and held it up. "A Whitehorn! " She rubbed it against Reina's cheek. "I bet you'd like to try it." "You're sweet, dear, but I should probably tell you. Male whitehorns don't provide much stimulation. Mating is a very quick affair." "Ah, that's too bad," she said before returning the toy. "It is what it is. That's why herd-mate's fis; ministrations felt so good." Azalea held up some colored glass beads connected by a string, turning them over in her hands. "What are these for?" Chitchat peeked around Reina. "How do you not know what anal beads are?" "So you put them in your ass? I bet that feels interesting. Why are there whips and ropes here?" "Some people like being tied up and given a little pain." "Really? Huh; interesting." From somewhere in the back, beyond the haze of smoke, a sudden clink of metal, followed by a sharp sizzle, interrupted them. They could just make out the store's proprietor against the billowy flames of a forge. A light-green woman, with black hair haphazardly tied out of the way, squinted through a pair of magnifiers. Her strong arms vigorously polished a human shaped dildo. She got up from her work stool, leaving a glistening dildo where she had been sitting. Wearing only a front-facing smith's apron, she turned around, and a garnet-colored, heart-shaped assplug peeked out from between her ass cheeks. She stood on tiptoes and twisted a knob on the chimney, opening a flue to dissipate the smoke. Previously hidden within the haze, a bundle hanging from the ceiling was revealed. The goblin smith stepped over, rotated the bundle, and stuffed the dildo in one end, causing the bundle to moan. "How's that feel? I smoothed out the rough spots next to the vein." "Mphhfmmg!" "So it's good?" "Mhmmp." "Excellent! Another prototype finished. Now, let's see who our guests are." She pushed back an ear that had flopped over her shoulder, pulled the bandana off her head, and wiped her brow. "Looks like we got some rare customers! Welcome to Forging Pleasure. Sorry for da smoke. Sometimes the flue gets clogged. I'm de owner of dis here shop. Eitri Tehdä's ma name, and dis is ma toy tester and cousin, Avu." "Mmmppshh." The bundle called Avu had a gag stuffed into her mouth. She was suspended from the ceiling in a harness that held her torso. Her arms and legs were tied behind her back, cutouts allowed access between her legs, and her ample chest could hang freely. "What can I help you girls with? Let me guess; looking for something to spice up a threesome. I've been working on a three-sided dildo if ya feeling adventurous. No, wait, before you say anything, I forgot ma spiel." She cleared her throat. "Feeling a bit overwhelmed and in need of some de-stressing? Have an emptiness that needs satiating or a deep itch that needs scratching? Filling holes is our goal!" Azalea clapped her hands. "What a wonderful motto! My holes were definitely made to be filled! We are new, just arrived today, and were out shopping. I noticed your door and was intrigued." "Liked that, didja? Copied and replicated from a centaur couple who visited us last year. We pride ourselves on makin' 'em as realistic as possible. Well, as real as we can using metal or wood anyway." "You made a copy of them?" "Aye! Saves a lot of time, instead of craftin' by hand. Supposedly, there is a soft, springy substance hidden away in the southern country, that feels more like the real thing, but so far, we haven't been able to get our mits on any of the stuff." "They definitely felt life-like enough already. I noticed all the bumps and veins," commented Reina. "We always look for new and different for a wide variety of shapes and sizes. We pay 'em. They get one free copy, and the rest go on the shelves. Don't tell anyone, but I think they also secretly get a thrill out of imagining a stranger using 'em for personal time." Azalea pointed to the display table in the middle of the room. "So all these are from someone in town?" "Most of 'em. If you're secretly looking for someone in particular, we have many of the more notable folks." "Do you make girls, too?" "You mean vulvas? They are a lot trickier, so very rarely. Mostly decorative pieces." "I wish I could watch you make one," Azalea expressed. "Well, we should have a customer coming in any minute now. It's not as exciting as you might think. Takes about an hour." A small bell rang above Avu. "Punctual as usual. If you really want to watch, I just need to read you a disclaimer." She placed a parchment on the table, pointing to the first paragraph. "Do you consent to seeing real depictions of sexual imagery for the purpose of education and/or mercantile exchange? If you do, please sign here." "Most definitely!" Azalea signed her name with flare and an unnecessary winky face. "I'll sign, but I'm going to peruse the shelves some more." said Reina. "I guess I will. Just to expand my knowledge about such things, you understand, but; I don't know how to write," Chitchat mumbled. "I can help you! Just give me your hand, and we can do it together. C-h-i-t-c-h-a-t." She handed the scroll back to Eitri. "Everything looks in order. This way, please." Eitri led Chitchat and Azalea behind the front counter to the nook where Avu hung, pulling a curtain closed behind them. Azalea regarded the suspended goblin. "Miss Eitri, I was wondering why Avu is all tied up." "Cause it was her idea, as was toy testin'. Says it gets her creative juices flowin'. "Not just her creativity it looks like." Observed Chitchat, noticing a pile of damp straw beneath her. "Normally, she's tied up with ropes, but today she's demonstrating a new idea: The Shortstuff Carry-all! It's still a working name. We were thinking of manufacturing them for portability purposes." "Why would anyone want to carry a goblin around?" "It's not just for goblins. It can be used for any smaller demi-human race. Like most of her ideas, she gets 'em when she's horny. This time, it stemmed from her imagining being treated like a cock-warmer, ready for use, so she built it for herself, but then we started thinking of more practical consequences. Like, they can't just be used anywhere in the city because of the modesty laws. Though, I suppose it depends on how the user is dressed. Maybe during journeys, short legs can't walk or run as fast or as far as longer-legged people. At least, I can't. Or perhaps at certain festivals or gatherings." "I can somewhat understand that," asserted Azalea. "Fulfilling your partner's random bouts of horniness by being stuffed is the most fulfilling feeling for me! Or it will be when I can stretch wide enough." Eitri rapped on the wall near where four waist-high holes of differing sizes lined the wall. Out of the far-left one popped a penis. "A wolfman!" exclaimed Azalea. "That he is. He's a young man, very polite. Been a regular for a number of years. I asked if he wanted to be one of our models. The first attempt had a few errors, so today is a redo." "Why don't you make it with them in the same room?" "Some customers like to remain anonymous. Others get a bit shy if they see someone watch 'em. A few like the thrill of not knowing who's doing what to them." "I've never seen a canine demi-human up close. He sure is red." "His kind can be both difficult and easier to make a mold for. Their knot keeps them fixed in place nicely, but they usually start pre-cumming right away, which can make the plaster take longer to dry. Fortunately, we have a simple solution." Azalea cocked her head. "A metal tube?" "Aye! First, we put a little linseed oil on it and carefully insert it into the tip, not far, mind you, just long enough so we can get the casing around the glans. "Now we gotta swell 'em up. Normally, Avu does this part; tis why I 'ung her over 'ere, but I don't mind demonstrating today. I like working my way from the head toward the back." With stubby fingers, she encircled his glans. "Then we add a little more oil to get him all slick and start jerkin'." "How cute! He's humping your hand." "He's quite a horny boy. See his knot starting to swell?" "Can I touch it?" "I doubt he'd mind." Azalea wrapped her tiny hands around the small bulge. "Warm and squishy. I thought it'd be bigger and harder." "Oh, it will. Grab his shaft and push back on it. Keep up a constant pressure. Try to make it feel like he's prodding a tight cunt. Yes, like that. Do it a few times and then squish it through." Azalea squeezed and pushed back hard, popping it through her encircled hands. "Oh wow, he's swelling so fast! Here's the size I was expecting. It's as big as an apple!" "You can let go now. It'll be about thirty minutes before he deflates enough to pull out." A spurt of liquid splashed her hand. "Oh, is he coming already? Can I drink it?" Before Eitri could answer, Azalea's lips were already around the metal tube. Eitri raised an eyebrow. "Uh, well, ok, go ahead, I guess, and no, the first watery bit will be pre-cum. When you notice a thicker, coppery taste, then you'll know when he's cummin' proper. You also might get a bit more clear, watery fluid at the end." Eitri grabbed a flat metal tray. "While you handle that, I'll show you how we make the mold. We slide it into these grooves on the wall, so his penis is resting on it. Then we slide in the sides, creating a little box, and pour in some warm plaster roughly halfway up. Lastly, we lay this square wax paper frame around the edge, so we can easily split the two halves, fill in the rest to the top, and let it sit till it hardens." Chitchat sat down on a stool next to Avu, not finding the molding process as interesting as she had expected. Her libido was normally very low. The rare times she masturbated were usually to distract herself from being hungry or to help her fall asleep. Putting her chin in her hand, she disinterestedly watched Azalea sip her unexpected treat, wondering how she could do something so lewd so naturally. She peeked out the curtain at Reina."What do you think she's thinking about?" she said out loud to Avu, not expecting a response. "Think she's imagining how many dildos she could stuff into that huge body of hers?" "Mgpmh" Avu shrugged. She let the curtain fall back. "So uh; do you hang around here often?" Avu rolled her eyes. "That was pretty bad, wasn't it? I went for the; lowest hanging fruit," Chitchat giggled. Avu gave a low groan. "Alright, I'll stop." Typically, Chitchat was adept at small talk, hence her nickname. For some reason, though, she was really off her game today. It all started with meeting that merchant. "So, I'm guessing by the red ochre pattern painted on your body; you are from one of the marsh tribes?" Avu nodded. "And the whole tied-up thing; you're a masochist?" Avu nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up. "I'm not really interested in this sorta stuff." Avu looked sad. "What? Oh, come on, don't look pleadingly at me. I already have been escorting someone who begs the same way. Ok, fine, but just a warning; I've never done anything you're probably hoping for." Avu smiled around the gag and tried to swing her body closer. "You're definitely a little horny, well-endowed goblin, aren't ya? Your belly and thighs were certainly blessed with ample pudginess." She cupped one of Avu's hanging breasts. "You have some curiously white nipple piercings." Avu let out a long moan as Chitchat rolled the tender flesh between her fingers. "I'm sorry! Did that hurt? Wait, maybe you'd actually like that?" Chitchat spun Avu around, stopping with her between Avu's legs. "Clean-shaven, I see. Makes sense if you are testing a lot of toys." She parted the fleshy lips. "Such a girthy dildo planted in ya! Sure does push your clit out." Chitchat flicked the fat little nub, instantly getting a whimper. "Interesting! You also have those little crystal bead piercings surrounding your clit and in a line down your cunt lips. Well, guess I'll just experiment and see whatcha like." Chitchat's actions got the attention of Eitri, who was leaning against the wall waiting for the plaster to harden. "If you're going to do that, could you aim her toward the straw, please?" Chitchat spun her again, aiming her ass toward the pile of previously damp straw. She experimented with rubbing the squirming goblin girl, trying to mimic the things she liked. With needy huffs and sharp cries, Avu's body jerked as a pearly stream of girl cum splashed over Chitchat's hand. "You came fast. Does that mean I did a good job?" "Mmmmpssh." Avu breathed heavily through the impediment in her mouth. "You're, uh, welcome, I guess. Hmm, I'm reminded of a little rumor I suddenly got curious to try." Avu tipped her head questioningly. Chitchat scooted very close and pulled her close till they were nose-to-nose. Smiling mischievously, she took hold of both of Avu's ears. Avu's eyes widened as Chitchat started to caress, massage, and stroke the floppy appendages. "Careful, you gonna make her get all melty-brained," laughed Eitri. Avu's eyelids sagged, and she started drooling profusely, making little gurgling sounds. "She's really getting spoiled today." "Is she?" Chitchat asked thoughtfully. "A goblin's ears are highly sensitive, sometimes even more than our sexy bits. It's like a direct connection straight to our brain. We become super relaxed and floaty-headed. Also, and I probably shouldn't say this, she becomes very impressionable. You could tell her to do just about anything, and she'd do it." "Is that so?" Reina pulled the curtain aside and poked her head in. "Sorry to interrupt your fun, but I was perusing your wares and was wondering what this curious device was." She held up a wooden object curled in the shape of a giant comma, carved from cedar and polished to a lovely sheen. Several taut strings stretched across it, anchored in place by brass knobs embedded into the surface. "Oh, I wondered where that went! Stroke your nail along the strings, and you'll see." Reina did as she was told. Raking her middle finger across the strings emitted a pleasant sound. Almost immediately, a throaty cry erupted from Avu. Surprised, Reina hesitantly stroked the strings again, leading to Avu straining and fighting against her restraints. Her cunt spraying cum again. "Am I doing that?" Reina buzzed in awe. "Indeed, you are! I named it the Sonorous Pleasure Acoustic Sex Machine, or S.P.A.S.M for short. Those studs in her nipples and cunt lips ya's was lookin' at, Miss Chitchat; each stud resonates to a particular cord. Depending on the tone and pitch, they vibrate softly or strongly. So, if you're musically inclined, you can literally make her feel the music." "Can I try?" begged Chitchat.Chitchat Reina handed her the device. Chitchat placed it on her lap and played a simple song she remembered growing up. Avu mewed and whined, jerking and twisting to the pleasure dancing through her nerves as the notes soared and dipped with the melody. Her body was the orchestra, and Chitchatt was the conductor. The song Chitchat chose was something you might hear at a tavern -- something with a quick tempo that caused Avu several body-clenching orgasms back to back. The song was only a minute long. With a flourish of her hands over the cords, she caused Avu to give one more short, erratic squirt before her body went limp, exhausted, and soaked with sweat. "Sorry, I kinda got carried away. Was that too much?" the ratgirl worriedly inquired. "Nah, she'll be fine. Though, maybe should have eased her into it first," snickered her cousin. "I should probably put a warning on it, for first-timers, about the intensity." "Dinner AND entertainment!" Azalea expressed, swallowing the last remnants. "He tasted pretty good." "Careful! Herd-mate might make you run laps around the back of the wagon if you get too heavy." Azalea stuck out her tongue playfully. "I think it should be hardened enough," Eitri pronounced while tapping the plaster lightly. She carefully lifted the top half. "Perfect separating! Look, you can see all his unique details." The girls looked at the impeccable inverted recreation. Its knot, shaft, and head all exhibited the minute veins accurately. Waving her hands around the mold, Eitri stated, "That pretty much sums up the process. I will make a clay copy later and recreate the mold out of brass, so it can be reused." "Thank you for showing us. That was fascinating!" Azalea cheered. "My pleasure." "And I know you can't hear me, Mr. Wolfman, but thank you for the snack," she praised, kissing the tip. "And thank you, Miss Chitchat, for playing with Avu. She gets bored when I'm working sometimes." "Mmmmpphfffmmph." "What's that? You want to give one to each girl? She wants to give each of you a present. Friendship assplugs." "Eh?" Reina and Chitchat replied in unison. "We'd be glad to accept them," beamed Azalea. "I don't know about this." fretted Reina. "Please, Rei-Rei. It's free and a present!" "Do we really need that level of friendship, though?" "Yes! It's a physical manifestation of our friendship!" Reina sighed. "Fine, " "Yay! Chitchat can go first." "Oh, no; you need not concern yourself with me. I doubt I'll even see you after tod, !" Azalea was already dragging her by the arm to a table where Eitri stood waiting with a multi-pronged measuring instrument. "We are totally gonna be friends from today onwards!" "I can't believe I'm doing this," Chitchat muttered. 'Calm down Chitchat. Just think of the money and all the food you can buy after you bleed these fools dry.' She separated the two belts that covered her intimates and lifted her cloak. Leaning low against the wall, she stuck her ass out. Azalea floated lower for a better view. "Look how cute and pink your anus is, Chitchat!" "That's not something I want to hear," she retorted with a red face. Eitri coated the pronged device with oil and carefully inserted it, making Chitchat clench her teeth, feeling herself opening before everyone's eyes. Eitri jotted down the measurement. "About average," she noted. "Next." Chitchat hurriedly covered herself as Azalea took her place. "Me!" Azalea sang, landing on the table and waving her rear at the bemused goblin. "Hmm, gonna need a super tiny one for you." Upon getting Azalea's measurements, she pointed out, "Color me surprised! You sure can stretch for someone so small." "Thank you! Training myself to be the best cock-sleeve I can!" Reina stepped forward. "I guess I'm last." "I'm dying to know how wide Reina is gonna be!" Azalea wondered. "Don't make me rethink this, Azalea." Eitri brought out a giant version of the probe. "Rarely get girls as big as you, so I don't use this one often. ready? I'm putting it in." Reina felt the three prongs enter her and start to expand. Eitra wrote down the numbers. "Despite being scaled up, yours is actually fairly average as well. Should take me about an hour for Reina's and Azalea's. Fortunately, I think I have one for Miss Chitchat's size already made up." Upon completion, she presented all three assplugs on a tray. Reina's dwarfed the other two. "Here you go. Three assplugs with a layer of silver over a brass core, and I embedded yellow citrine on the end to denote friendship between you all. Ready to try'em?" "Me first! Me first!" Azalea yelled with her usual excitement. She landed on her hands and knees on the work table. Spreading her cheeks, she stated, "Just stuff it in." Eitri applied some oil and pushed. Azalea hugged herself. "That's nice. Love that full feeling!" Chitchat had hers inserted next. "This feels; weird, " "Good weird or bad weird?" asked Azalea. "It doesn't hurt, but it definitely doesn't feel as good as you made it look." "You'll get used to it!'' The fae consoled as she rubbed the ratgirl's ass cheeks. "Reina's next. Can I put it in? Can I, Reina!?" "You're way too excited about all this." "Of course I am. My first time shopping for things with friends!" "Well, as long as your happy. Go ahead." Reina swung her tail aside and presented her ass. "Careful, it's heavy." Eitri handed it over, making sure Azalea had a good grip on it. "Let's put a generous amount of oil on." Azalea placed the tip against the Whitehorn's anus. "Ready? I'm pushing it in now." Bracing her shoulder against the base, she shoved, fluttering her wings vigorously. With some grunting and straining, she managed to push the widest part past Reina's tight muscle. Soon after, they both felt it slide in, firmly lodging in place. Azalea floated back to admire the accessory. "I can only imagine what that size must feel like." "Let's keep it that way. I don't care how much stretching you do. You're not fitting this in you." "I know, I know. How's it feel?" "I think I could grow to like it," Reina commented with closed eyes. "Glad you girls like 'em. Azalea, could you come over here for a second? I want to tell you something." Eitri whispered something into her ear, bringing a worrying smile to her lips. "We should be heading to the seamstress now, Azalea," reminded Reina. "Yes, off we go! Thank you, Eitri, Avu! I had so much fun!" Azalea raved. "Hope you see you girls back again sometime." Eitri walked the friends to the front door. To be continued in part 9, by Scholarly Mori for Literotica.

The Peddler & the Fairy: Part 5 Devin kills time waiting for sheepgirl shearing. In 10 parts, by Scholarly Mori. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Gylan exited the barn to find Erinnah while Ellyn took Priscillia's milk, which she had set down earlier, to a work table to process and document. "Um, Life-mate?" "Yes, Azalea?" "I'm sorry. I sorta made a mess of your clothes," she said bashfully. Azalea stood up, revealing a large wet spot on his shoulder [[MORE]] Devin ran a finger across it and tasted it. "I don't know how you manage to produce something so sweet, but maybe we should find a way to bottle it," he chuckled, then reassured her, "Don't worry about it. It'll dry, and I'll wash it later." Perking up at his words, she hugged him. "That was so fun to watch, wasn't it, life-mate? I wonder how long she's wanted to do that! I don't mind people I know seeing me naked, but I don't know if I even have the courage to display myself to strangers, but would you want to see your horny little fairy expose herself to a bunch of people? Would it excite you to watch my cheeks redden from embarrassment as I try to keep myself from covering places originally meant for family eyes only?" She lifted one of the petals of her dress playfully. "If you ask me, I might consider it. For now, though, I'm going to go talk to the satyress sisters a bit more." With a quick kiss, she flew off. Devin was having a hard time conceiving of Azalea looking embarrassed about doing anything sexual, but there might be something. He imagined Azalea flying naked next to him in a busy town when he felt a tug on his sleeve. "Herd-mate? I was wondering; could I perhaps, maybe, try,  She motioned to the empty stall in the corner, at the same time she stepped aside showing a support beam she had been backed against was stained with a generous amount of moisture dripping down it. "You want to try the piston machine?" Reina nodded shyly. "You don't need to ask me. Oh! You want me to ask for you?" Devin guessed. She nodded again. "Hey, Ellyn, can Reina try the piston machine in the empty stall?" "Sure she can. Jyora's little show got her all hot 'n bothered, did it? I don't blame 'er, I'm a little damp myself. Go choose a toy from the wall, Reina, and come over here," Ellyn directed while patting the gate to the stall. Reina perused the wall a moment and gasped. "What's wrong?" hollered Ellyn. "These are all made from ravishwood!" came Reina's subdued response. "Oh, you know about it? So you must know its special properties." "I, er, am aware of it, yes." "What's so special about it?" inquired Devin. Reina fidgeted. "It's, um; useful to certain members of my herd when it gets wet, Jyora, having recovered slightly, propped herself up. "She means the females of her herd. They peel the bark away to expose the inner layer and rub, or 'ravish' the wood with their vulvas," she stated matter-of-factly. "When enough moisture is applied, the tree thinks it's exposed to the elements and creates a layer of extended defensive nodules." Reina continued, avoiding eye contact, "What Miss Jyora says is correct. Since we can't reach back there; the bumps help alleviate our needs if we can't find a partner." Ellyn paused her work to interrupt, "This stall will eventually have a table, but it hasn't been finished yet. Just back yourself in; yes, just like that. Picked the large centaur one, did'j ya? Adventurous lass!" She screwed the dildo to the piston and extended it to its maximum length. "This is as far as it'll push into you." Ellyn dipped behind Reina, coating the dildo with her saliva. Reina gasped in surprise as Ellyn gave a few teasing licks to Reina's cunt, for good measure, emerging a moment later with a glistening mouth. "Sorry, it's kinda become a habit for me with the other girls." Reina blushed profusely as Ellyn rubbed her slit open, helping guide the toy into the right hole. Wiggling and pushing, the Whitehorn accepted a bit more than half of the dildo. Ellyn patted her haunch and attached the missing gear, jolting the machine to life.With a satisfied sigh, Reina settled into a comfortable position, letting the bumpy toy work its magic. Azalea, meanwhile, seemed to have taken an interest in Iryna's milk. She was sitting on the table, kneading the satyress' large mammary, sucking enthusiastically while Iryna stroked her head with motherly love. Devin stood there, taking in the relaxed atmosphere of everyone enjoying themselves when he saw Priscilla motioning him over to her stall from his periphery. "She wants your hand," Iryna filled in, seeing his questioning look. He approached and offered his hand, which she placed on her head. She then took his other hand and started sucking on his fingers. A moment later, a low, drawn-out moan issued from her throat, and she started squirming on the table while haphazardly licking his digits. After settling down a bit, she lay there, eyes unfocused and breathing heavily. "Sometimes, she likes something in her mouth when one of the larger males is giving her anal, or she's expecting a particularly intense orgasm," Iryna explained. Devin petted the pleasure-drunk sheep-girl, brushing some of her hair out of her brown eyes. "She seems comforted by it. Is she really ok in this state?" "Yes. as Ellyn said, she doesn't come down from her orgasmic highs because of her crest stealing her post-orgasmic feelings. Once she gets a full night's sleep, she'll be back to her temperamental self. Normally, she's a bit snooty, so it's cute seeing another side of her. I think that was her eighth male today, so she's a bit worn out. Thanks for indulging her little idiosyncrasy." "No problem." "Also, I couldn't help but notice. Do you need some attention? I hear it gets uncomfortable if left unattended," Iryna proposed. Devin knew she was looking at the tent in his pants. "Priscilla probably wouldn't mind you mating her if you want some relief," she hinted. Priscilla perked up upon hearing the word 'mating' and started licking more suggestively, her slightly more lucid eyes looking up at him with hope. "Are you sure? You look pretty tired." Priscilla nodded. "She's never had a human partner. She's probably curious how the real thing feels. You should have time for a quickie before papa Gylan gets back," Iryna answered for her. "How do I get into the room?" Devin asked. "There's a door on the outside, around the back. Also, she won't mind you using either hole. Most of the boys seem partial to her cunt, though," came Iryna's reply. Exiting the barn, he went around back to find a small door. The newly-sanded plank room was clean and empty except for a couple chairs. Between two handles on the wall was Priscilla's ass on full display. He positioned himself behind her, straddling the sizable pool of arousal on the floor. He didn't get too many opportunities to get a close look at the sheep-girls intimate bits. He ran his other over her velvety swollen lips, which were scrunched into a tight teardrop shape.The many males she must have serviced today have certainly left her with a sizable gape. It's odd, though, that there is almost no cum leaking out. Maybe it's due to her crest? Figuring he should take Iryna's advice, he lined himself up, rubbing his glans through her sticky lips. She had more than enough lubricant to slide in easily, but her passage was built for the more narrow penises of her species. He felt her vaginal walls trembling as they struggled to accommodate the girth of her latest guest. Starting slow and shallow, he gradually loosened her up with each push. Anal had its own perks, but the unique grooves and silken folds of a girl's vagina have few equals. I can't believe how hot her insides feel -- much warmer than Reina's. Does her wool give her a higher body temperature? Devin closed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying this rare opportunity. "That looks fun. How's she feel?" A surprise voice asked. Devin slammed into the wall in surprise, jamming into Priscilla and causing her to moan loud enough to hear -- even through the wall. "Sorry to startle you. I thought you heard me come in," laughed Ellyn. "Uh, Ellyn, hi. Iryna suggested that Priscilla wouldn't mind, so, you know,”  Devin stammered, shaking a little with the exertion and the scare. "No need to be bashful. The sheep-girls are pretty insatiable the day before shearing. Mind if I stay and chat for a moment, or do you want some privacy?" Ellyn asked. "Uh, no, it's alright," he said, slowly thrusting again, wondering if he actually felt comfortable. "Great!" she said, pulling up a chair and leaning it against the wall. Crossing her legs, she watched Devin plow the sex-hungry sheep girl. Devin changed his pacing to quick, short thrusts. Then he huffed out, "I've heard your oral skills are second to none." "No one's complained yet. The secret is to be eager and show that you're actively interested in their pleasure. Also, not having much of a gag reflex helps." She winked. "Do you enjoy it?" "Aye, very much. The girls get quite sticky during their estrus cycle, so I get to have extra fun lapping up their juices." She flashed a mischievous smile. "The one's who can squirt get all embarrassed and fidgety when I make a show of relishing their cum. The boys, in contrast, love it when I savor theirs. I sometimes think they save up just so I have to spend more time on them. More than anything, though, I'm happiest when they are happy. Speaking of happiness, Azalea and Reina sure are darlings. They seemed to be enjoying their visit today." Devin slowed his pace, probably to the chagrin of Priscilla, who was likely trying to encourage him to go faster by humping her hips against him. However, he wanted to savor this feeling longer while talking to Ellyn. "I hope they did. Meeting both of them was very sudden, so I'm a bit worried that maybe what they imagined this relationship to be in their head might be lessened by reality. Being on the road all the time isn't the most exciting, but they have been a joy to have around. Azalea is so full of energy and curiosity. Reina seems to still be a bit shy around strangers, but she's slowly opening up more, especially with Azalea." "Call it a hunch or maybe intuition, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. Just be you, and talk through any problems that might arrive, and try to see things from their perspective." "You're probably right, and I'm just over-worrying about things again." "I was more worried about you alone on the road all the time. I'm relieved you met them," Ellyn shared with a gentle rub of his shoulder. "Traveling isn't as dangerous as you imagine." "I know, but like your sister, I feel it's safer when there are at least two or more people to depend on should something occur." "I'm not sure how dependable Azalea would be in an emergency." "You might be surprised." She smiled playfully. "I bet, when you're having trouble thinking straight or overwhelmed with concerns, she'd give a lot of emergency attention to your penis. Have you done it with them yet?" Devin smiled back. "My penis is definitely her favorite thing to snuggle with in bed. Azalea and I have masturbated with each other. She's too small to penetrate, at least right now, but she's sure it's possible, so we are exploring options. So far, Reina and I have only tried anal. We weren't ready to be tied down with a family yet." "Must be exciting just beginning your life-long adventures. I might start looking for a partner in a few years." She glanced at Priscilla's tail, swishing in annoyance. "I'll have to apologize to Priscilla later for monopolizing your time. I'm sure she wanted a more vigorous partner instead of just being a cockwarmer." "Sorry, Priscilla." He wasn't sure she could hear, but he obliged and picked up the pace when he felt her grinding her ass to seek more stimulation. Even though they had known each other for years, this was Ellyn's first time seeing Devin's penis. She still felt horny from helping Jyora get in touch with her exhibitionist side. Hence, the slapping of Devin's hips and the heavy breathing prompted her to indulge a little. "Seeing you two go at it, I need a little relief too! Since this is my first time seeing yours, I think it's only fair that I show you mine." Ellyn hiked her dress up. She ran her hand through her trimmed bush, which matched the color of her hair. With a few test rubs, she peeled her lips open and offered Devin an unimpeded view. Ellyn gave her cunt a few warm-up strokes. "Would you believe I rarely masturbate and that I'm still a virgin?" "A little, given all the things you do for everyone." "I hope you don't think I'm slutty." "No. I never considered you that type of person," he said with a quick glance at Ellyn. "I'm not too into anal, but I make an exception once a year. The boys don't give my ass any rest when I do." She laughed. "I mostly give oral and handjobs. I think I've given so many of them I've started seeing it as less sexual and just a healthy thing I can do to assist everyone with if that makes sense." "It does a little. I'll be sure to enjoy this rare moment then." Ellyn adjusted her posture. Next, she fingered her moistening cunt in quick little circular motions, flicking her clit periodically. "Pull her tail a little. She likes that," she panted. Devin grabbed the stumpy tail and gave it a little upward tug causing her vaginal muscles to spasm. He noticed her tail-hole was also quivering from the rougher treatment. He massaged his thumb into her little whitish-pink orifice, and she squeezed his thumb welcomingly. From the feel of it, her ass was quite popular. Unlike her cunt, she had quite a lot of cum in this hole. For several minutes, only the sound of heavy breathing and the squelching of Priscilla's and Ellyn's cunts were heard. "I hope you don't mind if I climax before you," Ellyn suddenly announced. She rapidly plunged her middle and ring fingers into her hungry love tunnel, using her palm to mash her clit. "Watch me cum, Devin!" she cried. Her eyes fluttered as she arched her back, and her thighs jerked closed around her hand as her body shuddered its pleasure. She took a moment to breathe before removing her hand and shakily getting to her feet. Stumbling behind Devin, she pushed her bounteous chest into his back and leaned on him for support. "Nothin' like a good orgasm to help clear yer mind. Want a taste?" she solicited, holding out her drippy fingers. Devin considered a brief moment before sucking her tangy sweetness off them. "That was hotter than I thought it would be!" she remarked. Devin grinned. "Lately, I, too, started to enjoy the subtle flavor differences of girls." Ellyn wrapped her arms around Devin's middle, peering over his shoulder. "Priscilla definitely has one of the cutest cunts on the farm. She is very particular and fastidious about her appearance, so it's a little amusing to watch the males mess up her cute little privates all day. She seems juicier today, too. Wonder if you have the magic touch." "Probably because I'm stretching her out more than she's used to." "When I was hooking Reina up, I noticed she has some of the thickest juices I've seen from any girl. I bet you could lick her for hours," Ellyn encouraged. "She does. Azalea's is thinner and sweeter, but Reina would have a contender for sheer drippiness if Azalea were of equal size." "Is that so? Maybe next time, I can ask her if she'd let me quench my thirst." Ellyn pulled away from Devin. "Da should be getting back soon. Are you close?" "Yes, sorry. I was just trying to enjoy this for as long as possible. I don't know when I'll have another chance to enjoy vaginal sex." "If you're worried about knocking Reina up, I know of a person who might have something you may find useful regarding that. If you ever head up to Merport, you might want to think about stopping by a certain place. I'll write down their name and location for you later. "Now, let's see if I can assist one of my best friends in pumping all his cum into our little sheep-girl's belly." She reached between his legs and cupped his balls. Her hands weren't the softest, being used to rough farmwork, but they were well-versed in how much pressure to apply and the right amount of tugging. "The way Priscilla is coiling around me feels like she wants it more than I do." "Make sure you cum as deep in her as you can." Feeling the pressure building in his loins, he thrust twice more. Ellyn pushed his hips forward, lightly milking his balls as he erupted, painting Priscilla's insides white. Priscilla's crest began to pulse sporadically. "That's her crest pulling your cum into her belly. Looks like you gave her a lot. She'll be drinking it all up during her shearing tomorrow," Ellyn explained while milking his balls. "What do you mean?" he asked. She smiled mischievously. "You'll see when Erinnah gets here." To Devin's quizzical look, she just said, "Let me clean you up." She pulled him out of Priscilla and stuffed his penis into her mouth to suck off their mixed fluids. She then slurped Priscilla,"Much cleaner! Shall we go see if Da is back with Erinnah?" Devin and Ellyn re-entered the main room. Aside from that brief moment, Priscilla was back into her lust-induced haze. Her front half sprawled over the table, tongue lolling, eyes droopy. Devin bent down and kissed the sheep-girl on the forehead. He whispered, "Not sure if you can hear me, but thank you, Priscilla. You felt amazing!" "Looks like you exceeded her expectations," smirked Iryna, cradling a sleepy Azalea in her hands. "I tried to give her a good time, and it looks like you've been keeping my fairy fed." Iryna stroked Azalea's head with her thumb. "I didn't know such a tiny belly could hold so much milk. She was also teasing my nipples the entire time. The naughty girl gave me two orgasms!" Devin laughed. "That sounds like her. Never passing up a moment to do something sexy." Reina was still leaning against the stall wall, enjoying the untiring thrusting of the piston. "We're back!" announced Gylan. He entered from the other end of the barn with a quiet-looking sheep-girl in a pink dress. Her hazel eyes were peeking out from behind long bangs. Twin braids tied with pink ribbons draped over her shoulders, leaving most of her hair cascading, mantle-like, down her back past her ass. She shuffled nervously, fists clenching the hem of her white apron. "Hello, Erinnah," Devin spoke gently but happily. "Ha, ha, hi, Devin. I didn't know you were va, visiting. Uh, are you here to watch me get sheared?" "Yes, is that ok?" "Na, no. I mean, no I, it's ok if you wah, want to watch. I, I'm sorry you have to see me like this, sa, so nervous and sca, scared." "I don't mind. I know you can't help it, right?" Devin extended. "The, that's right. Even though I, I know there's nothing to be afraid of wah, whenever I think of those sharp tools. So I, I'm thankful for Miss Jyora's treatment, even if it is very embarrassing." Ellyn took Erinnah by the arm and soothingly guided her to a corner of the barn reserved for shearing. While helping remove Erinnah's dress, she added, "She definitely has it worse than the other girls. She has outright panic attacks. We tried everything we could think of, even doing it when she was asleep, but she had too much anxiety and only fell asleep when she was exhausted, so we just gave up. Thankfully, Jyora arrived when she did." Devin wasn't sure she needed a dress. Her arms, legs, chest, and crotch were modestly covered by her softer inner wool, leaving her milky-white tummy and the barest hint of inner thigh exposed. Gylan busied himself prepping the shears and made sure to keep them out of sight while Ellyn collected the things needed for the preparation for the first phase. "You ready to activate your crest, Erinnah?" asked Ellyn. "Ya, yes." The skittish girl assumed a squatting posture, closed her eyes, and placed her hand on her belly in concentration. Ellyn spread the sheep-girl's hind legs wide. Guiding her tail out of the way, she combed back the wool covering her crotch. Her anus was more pronounced and her lips a little looser than Priscilla's. "We have a bit to do before she can be sheared comfortably," she explained to Devin. "First, we give her cunt a little wash and rinse to make sure we collect a clean product." "Product?" "Aye! Well, more a byproduct, really. She gets super horny during this part. She'll be feeling similar to when she's being milked in the wall, including not being able to orgasm as long as this is in her." She pointed at the small lump in her abdomen. "We'll collect her fluids so you can make a little extra profit." "You really didn't have to," he deflected. "We might as well, or it'll just go to waste. You have more mouths to feed, and I'm sure your alchemist friend won't complain about having more affinity-laced liquids to use. Erinnah suggested the idea a long time ago. She, like all the farmhands, is more than happy to help you out, you well know." "I appreciate it." "Ok, Erinnah, slow deep breaths, just like Jyora taught you." Erinnah steadied her breathing, placed her hand on her belly, and closed her eyes. Ellyn began playfully massaging the focused sheep-girl's shy clit out of hiding and cajoling her tense body to relax. "Like most crests, her's needs a little stimulation to start it up." Devin turned to see Jyora sidle up to him. "Hey, Jyora, feeling rested?" "Yes, I have regained my energy, Mr. Ebonplume." "That's good. I'm eager to see how your crest works." Jyora furrowed her brows when she saw Erinnah lose focus and start wringing her hands nervously. "Erinnah, remember what I mentioned you try when you felt like doing that?" "Ya, yes, Miss Jyora, you, you suggested I ma, massage my breasts." "That's right. You've done this before and know how good it feels. Just focus on the pleasure and diverting affinity to your crest." Erinnah scrunched her face in concentration, placing her right hand back over her crest while the other kneaded her chest. This caused a bit of milk to leak from the stiffening nipple. "Ellyn, ya, your fingers feel so good. A tiny buh, bit left. Right there! A, also a little harder, puh, please!" Erinnah had just begun to settle into the mood when she suddenly clutched her stomach. A faint pink glow started to emanate from beneath her hand. Ellyn immediately placed a glass jar between her legs. Erinnah moaned as she tried reaching for her clit, but between the pleasure and contractions, she couldn't coordinate well and almost knocked the jar over. Ellyn grasped her hand and placed it back on her stomach. She was quite familiar with how this sheep-girl liked to masturbate. Unhooding the needy little pleasure button, she pinched and tweaked the sensitive nub directly until sticky strands dripped into the jar below. Erinnah moaned in appreciation as Ellyn switched to a flicking motion. With the other hand, she spread the juicy lips, keeping them out of the way to better facilitate the collection. For the next twenty minutes, Erinnah alternated between moaning and groaning while looking like she wanted to orgasm so bad but couldn't. She rubbed her stomach as the contractions came more frequently. Each one caused the slight bulge to move lower until her opening started to widen. "About half a jar," noted Ellyn, "Not bad." She set it aside and placed a cloth over her hands, ready to catch what was about to emerge. Devin watched in fascination as the sheep-girl went through what he knew was similar to the experience of the harpies. Since this species didn't naturally do this, he was curious about the ultimate purpose. With one final push, the egg-like object tumbled out. Ellyn delicately caught it and started wiping off the excess moisture. Meanwhile, Erinnah gasped for air as her body twitched and spasmed, utterly enjoying her long-awaited orgasm. Ellyn handed the whitish object over to Jyora for inspection. "As you can see, Mr. Ebonplume, it's smaller and rounder than what a harpy would normally lay. I glossed over a lot of details earlier. If you are interested, I can explain the process more fully." "Please do. It looks like Erinnah hasn't quite collected herself yet." Erinnah smiled with heavily lidded eyes. Ellyn supported her with one hand under her abdomen while busily wiping her cunt clean with the other. Devin thought he saw a small gleam of excitement enter Jyora's eye. She cleared her throat. "Normally, when a harpy ovum is expelled from the ovary, it passes down the oviduct where different layers form around it till a fully-formed egg emerges. There is a rare occurrence where a yolkless egg is laid. We believe it might be because a harpy hasn't finished maturing, and her body isn't yet ready for the full egg creation process, or some reproductive material enters the lower egg canal, triggering only half the process. These eggs are called by several colloquial terms: wind egg, fairy egg, and, no, they have nothing to do with actual fairies. It's essentially just a sterile egg. "I designed the crest to mimic this process. All the semen she collects naturally seek out an egg to fertilize. They swim up to the lower portion of the fallopian tube. Using the high calcium content of her body, the crest artificially replicates a shell around the semen." When she held the opaque, semi-transparent object up to the light, Devin could see the semen sloshing around inside. "It takes nearly a full day for the shell to form. Since most of the sheep-men can ejaculate about three or four times a day, there's probably almost a cup of semen inside this one." Having regained some of her strength. Ellyn helped Erinnah onto a stool. "The, this is my fourth time doing this, a, and I still have a hard time believing Miss Jyora's crest helped me make that thing." "And now for the 'why'; the main purpose of all this." Jyora handed the egg over its 'mother,' and Erinnah cracked the top open. For a moment, she gazed appreciatively at all the donations her partners had made yesterday before gulping it down. At first, it seemed nothing was happening, but as she licked the cloying seed from her lips, the frightened look in her eyes slowly dimmed. A languid expression spread across her face. The limbs that had been trembling just a moment before went limp. Ellyn caught her body as she slumped forward. At the same time, Jyora took the empty egg from the listless sheep-girl. "She is feeling the resolution phase of all the orgasms she had yesterday and today; all at once." "Is she aware of what's going on?" Devin wondered. "It varies between individuals. You'll have to ask her when she wakes up." Ellyn held Erinnah tenderly while scratching her ears as her father deftly worked. After fifteen minutes of snipping and trimming around her body, her wool coat came off in nearly one large piece. Switching to a finer pair of shears, he worked his way around her limbs and sensitive places, leaving her crotch for last. He snipped the silky wool between her legs and tail with a fine-toothed comb and scissors. Ellyn gave Erinnah a sisterly kiss on the cheek before explaining, "The outside, coarse wool is used mostly in larger articles of clothing, blankets, etc., and the finer wool is used for making undergarments and lingerie." If it wasn't for her horns, tail, hooves, and genitals, Devin wouldn't have any clue Erinnah was a demi-human in her newly-sheered form. "All done, Erinnah. You did very well!" After wrapping a nearby blanket around her, Ellyn picked her up and handed her to a surprised Devin. "Could you take her to her room?" "Uh, sure." He carried the cute, bundled sheep-girl princess-style out of the barn and toward the building where most of the farmhands roomed. After asking around for directions, he found her chambers. The room was simple and showed signs of having two occupants. Both sides were neat and orderly but were very different in furnishings and decoration. One side contained a work table with various knives, awls, and other tools for wood carving. Figures of trees, people, and small animals decorated several shelves. The other side, he guessed, was Erinnah's. He glanced at the papers on the desk. Looks like she enjoys writing poetry, and these look like pamphlets or town fliers of actors and playwrights tacked to the wall. Wouldn't have guessed she was into performance art. I wonder how many she's watched. He placed her gently on the bed and unwrapped the blanket from around her. His eyes wandered to her chest. Her breasts certainly are bigger now they aren't covered. She was one of the milkmaids, after all, so it was to be expected. The shift in position stirred her awake. She reached around his neck before he could straighten up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you, my prince," she whispered and giggled sleepily. "You're more than welcome." He pulled the blanket over her and sat on the bed. She timidly fiddled with the blanket. "I hope you didn't find it too strange." "Not at all. I've seen harpies lay eggs before. It was fascinating." "Miss Jyora did say she got the idea from that, so I guess I know what they feel like a little." "What's it feel like?" Devin inquired with a smirk. "Which? Laying the egg or drinking it?" "Both." "Laying feels similar to very intense edging but with a dildo penetrating me from the inside out. It makes me want to cum so bad, but I can't, and just when I think I can't stand it anymore, it pops out, and I cum harder than any other way I've ever experienced. As for the taste," she tilted her head in thought, "It's not really any different from drinking a whole bunch of boys' cum all at once. But afterwards; it's hard to explain. You know the feeling you get after you have a great orgasm, and you just want to lay there and do nothing? My brain feels super floaty, as if I'm in a dream or when I'm laying in a grassy field under the warm sun, looking up into the sky. I feel so peaceful and listless." "I'm glad it helped with your shearing." "Me too." She snuggled further under the blanket. "It also made me happy to have you there." She started blushing. "I; may have got a little more turned on with you watching. Hopefully, next time you visit, you can; mate with me when I'm in the milking wall -- if you want to, I mean." "You're a very lovely, young sheep-girl, and I'd be more than happy to," he replied. She pulled the blanket over her nose, hiding her giant smile. "The other males are great, but I want to know what a real human feels like." "You're not the only one. Priscilla wanted to know as well." "Oh, she did? She was being milked today, wasn't she?" "She was. I had some time waiting for Gylan to go find you. I think I was a bit more than what she was used to," Devin answered with a bit of mirth in his voice. "I'll have to ask her how it felt later." She yawned. "I feel super sleepy after I'm sheared. I have to be milked in the morning, so I'll come see you off before you leave." "Sounds good. Sleep well." As soon as Erinnah turned on her side, she was fast asleep. Devin exited the sleeping quarters and returned to the barn. Priscilla was gone by the time he got back. Ellyn was busy cleaning up the stalls and documenting the sisters' milk collected for the day. The sisters, meanwhile, were busy cleaning each other. Cyna, seeing Devin enter, bounded over, still naked except for her vest, and her slightly less milk-filled breasts bounced as she ran. With hands behind her back, she leaned over slightly and looked up into his face. "I don't suppose you have the energy to mate me right now; I need it hard and fast after that dull piston." "Sorry, Cyna. Priscilla kinda wore me out. I promise next time, ok?" She looked disappointed. "Ok. Guess it'll just be vigorous fingering." Ryna came up behind her. "Cyna, not now. I just wiped you clean. Here's your clothes. You're always running around half-naked." "I didn't mean I'd do it right now, and so what? They get in the way, and all the boys like looking at my boobs." "They like looking at any girl's boobs, but that's not the issue. You know you get cold easily." "Fine, " Cyna whined, scrambling into her dress. Iryna joined her sisters. "We are gonna go bathe, eat and head to bed. We'll see you off tomorrow morning, Devin." "I'm gonna go check on Reina. You three have a wonderful night." Reina was standing off to the side, acting as a substitute bed for Azalea, who was curled up on the Whitehorn's back. Reaching her side, he gave her a kiss. "How was the piston, Reina?" "It was a wonderful experience, herd-mate! It was the perfect speed. It was so filling and stretched me in just the right ways, and the bumps; every time it pushed in, it caused tingles up my spine!" she expressed with enthusiasm. "Hope you didn't feel neglected. Things got a little busy." "Not at all! It was a nice way to relax after a long day, and while I was not fully attentive to everything that was going on, I enjoyed watching everyone interact with each other." "I'm glad you had fun." He intertwined his fingers with hers. "Looks like Gylan is just about done." The large farmer sauntered over. "Well, Devin, ma'boy! Just finished puttin' things away. Erinnah's fleece is nicely packed in the crate along with the other sheep-folk's for the woolclassers to go through." "They are hard to impress, but they always comment on how exceptional your materials are. Thank you for all the effort," Devin said. "All in a day's work! Certainly pays to keep our sheep-folk in good health. Gettin' to be close to dinner time. Shall we head in for the night?" "I'm not sure about Azalea, but I am quite famished," replied Reina. "Working on a farm definitely builds an appetite," Devin added while rubbing his stomach. "That it does, ma'boy. We are gonna treat you to some wonderful home-cookin', Reina! Ellyn, we are gonna head in and start prepping for dinner!" "I'll be there in a bit, Da. Just need to finish documenting how much the girls produced today." The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Father and daughter prepared a wonderful dinner of leek, onion, and barley dumplings with steamed vegetables from the garden. Rounding the meal off was bread pudding mixed with wild fruit drenched in the sytresses' sweet milk, and it satisfied all appetites. To be continued in part 6, by Scholarly Mori for Literotica.

Welcome to a celestial journey through the zodiac with C3: Crystals, Cauldrons, & Cocktails! In this star-studded episode, we're diving deep into the mystical energies of Aquarius, Pisces, Aries, and Taurus.Join us as we explore the unique traits, strengths, and challenges of each zodiac sign, uncovering the cosmic secrets that shape our personalities and guide our paths. From the innovative and eccentric Aquarius to the dreamy and intuitive Pisces, we'll journey through the astrological wheel, unlocking the hidden wisdom and magical potential of each sign.So grab your cauldron, pour yourself a cocktail, and join us as we raise a toast to the cosmic dance of the zodiac. Cheers to starry enchantment! Support the showUntil then, Stay Witchy!!River's Etsy Store: www.batsandbaublesinc.etsy.comWebsite: www.c3witchypodcast.comMerch: www.c3witchypodcastmerch.comOur wonderful logo is done by: www.nellamarinadraws.etsy.comIntro and Outro Audio:podcast intro & outro music:Góða Nótt by Alexander NakaradaLink: https://filmmusic.io/song/4754-g-a-n-ttLicense: https://filmmusic.io/standard-liceSound from Zapsplat.com – Witches Cauldrons bubbling