Minorikawa's Continued Journal of Shorts

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

It turns out my original short stories thread became archived! I guess that's what happens when you suddenly vanish for over a year... Still, every so often I wish to write something, and right now I have a couple somethings I'd like to write. So we're starting a new thread! Hopefully you can peruse and enjoy. There are actually two I have in mind right now, but one of them is continuing to develop. So, the short story you get is... actually a sort of introduction to a setting I'm really curious about exploring. It sounds very typical at first, very straight-forward, but I got to speaking about it with someone and I just wanted to go for it. While the setting is pretty typical, one of the angles is for the protagonist to explore a fish out of water (and time) scenario while adjusting to a world that's familiar, but so different from his own.

So, consider this one part plain fun writing, one part advertisement.

~*~*~

Wake-Up Call: Part One

There was a fog in Claude's mind, almost amnesia-like. He could barely remember his name. Dark clouds of slumber continued to storm and swarm him, realizing he was very much in a waking dream. Waking from what, however? He could not recall going to bed. His last memory... his last memory was... what? What was the last thing he did? He tried to speak, but nothing more than a weak moan emerged from his lips. A moan that didn't match the movements of his lips at all. Turning his head, the clouds slowly began to part, revealing just a glimmer of bright, white light. Something... something felt... he couldn't place it. Warm, but not across his entire body.

It began to come back to him. That light, it was not unlike the bulbs penetrating his vision as he laid down, the mask over his face, the anesthesia pumped into his lungs as they plunged him into sleep. That's right, he had gone to the hospital. He had gone so that he could... he could...

This time the moan did come from him. His body stiffened, feeling pleasure in that warmth. There was a response, somewhere out there, reacting to him. He stepped towards the growing light, the clouds beginning to dissipate as his fingers stretched out. He blinked, he moaned again, and he heard a woman giggle. He blinked...

...and his eyes opened. The fog was certainly a dream, but now he lifted his arm, shielding his eyes from the bright lights of the pale ceiling above. He could hear the beeping of a vital sensor to his right, as well as the slight tug of the IV drip needle in his arm tugging on the connecting tube. His muscles felt stiff, they ached, his back arched slightly as his shoulder objected to lifting the entire limb. Yet that arch yielded an unexpected response: a muffled coo of sorts down towards the end of the bed. It was then that he noticed a presence between his legs, and a very different sort of stiff ache coming from his loins, accompanied by a warm, moist embrace around...

He lowered his arm, looking down, a hospital gown lifted up towards his abdomen as a strange brunette nurse gazed her eyes upon him, her head slowly bobbing, lips wrapped around his thick member. Claude could not suppress the groan of pleasure as her unseen tongue danced against the frenulum of his crown, her blue eye winking at him as her gloved fingers steadily held him at the base. She slowly peeled her lips up towards his smooth crown, letting them release it with a pop.

"Good morning, handsome," she said with a toothy grin, almost posing for a photo with his cock beside her cheek.

Claude ignored the moaning cries of bone and muscle, sitting up, pulling himself back on the bed, trying to cover his shame. The nurse herself sat up, but a visible look of hurt and confusion was in her eyes. Her arms crossed over her chest, which had a few buttons undone to show off her heavy breasts some. "I..." she began, stuttering, but she watched almost in horror as Claude recoiled away from her. He merely sat there, panting, backed as far as he could, trying his best to hide the tented bulge beneath the gown as a new fog began to slowly clear from his mind.

"Ah, you must forgive Nicole," a man sighed, peeling back the half-closed curtain around his bed. He finally got a better look at the room itself, with a window gazing out into a bright blue sky on the right, an empty hospital bed on his left, and... this... this looked nothing like the hospital he was fell asleep in. The one he had been to several times, even stayed overnight. The TV wasn't there, replaced instead by an illuminated display on the wall. It was playing the news, but the buildings, the fashion, the look of the cars, nothing seemed familiar. Even the name of the news network, USN, was odd. Looking to the door outside, even the nurses marching back and forth looked different. They weren't dressed in traditional scrubs, but a variety of what one would expect as a Halloween outfit, including the exaggerated sexual tropes.

"You see, she's new to this wing of the hospital," the man continued. Claude finally turned to look at the man, an older gentleman with quite the styled gray hair and mustache. He carried a smug air about himself, even as far as doctors go. "She's used to waking up capable patients from our time. Her bedside manner is quite... popular, you might say." The gentleman offered quite the devilish grin for a moment, but seeing that his audience remained confused he swiftly wiped the gleeful expression away and began to pace around the bed. "Tell me, son, what is the last thing you remember?"

Claude hesitated a moment, studying the man who continued to pace slowly, pivoting on his heel and reversing his path. Glancing at the nurse, this Nurse Nicole, she looked between the gentleman and Claude, also looking confused, her left hand rubbing along her right arm. "I went under," he replied, "for some kind of procedure."

"No memory of why you went under?" the gentleman inquired, pivoting once more and repeating his pace. Claude just shook his head. "My son, you had cancer, and you did not have long to live." It was at this point the gentleman stopped, turning directly towards Claude and looking at him in the eye. "Fortune, however, smiled upon you, boy, for you were born when cryotechnology was finally available. Costly, admittedly, but available." Here the gentleman paused, looking into Claude's eyes, seeking any hint of recognition. Claude merely looked to the side, the images coming back slowly. Sitting in the doctor's office with his sister that had rushed him to the hospital, laying in the bed after several days of tests and examinations when they delivered the grave news, conferring with his parents, signing the paperwork...

"I was a College student," he said softly. "Twenty years old, a graphic design major."

"That's right," the gentleman nodded. Claude lifted his eyes back up to the older gentleman.

"Who are you, exactly?"

"I am Doctor Reginald Steele," the man nodded, resuming his pacing once more. "You see, we developed a..." He paused, shaking his head, slightly disgusted. "Oh, I hate boiling it down in such a simple phrase... a cure for your cancer." He almost spat the words out. "It's honestly far more complex, a combination of medicines, procedures, application of stem cells... and I am this hospital's leading expert on the matter." He turned once more to Claude with a smile. "It was I that saved you from this cancer, in accordance with the contract you signed. Granted, not with this hospital, but there's... well, there's a long line of medical care changes and hospital acquisitions that where you are, Vitalia Hospital, has taken on that and many other contracts like yours. Many, like you, have been saved over the past several decades as remedies to their terminal illnesses were discovered. Yours... well, it took quite a long time."

"Precisely how long?" Claude asked without thinking. He then turned to Nicole, who seemed to shy away slightly, uncertain of the answer herself. And why did I wake up to her sucking my dick?! he felt like shouting.

"Seventy-five years," Doctor Reginald replied. No hesitation, though he did not say it with the joviality he had been speaking of Claude's miraculous cure. "You'll recall the contract was final, that no matter what happened, how long it would take, or who objected, you would not be woken up until there was a cure." The doctor paused now, letting it all sink into Claude's mind. His head bumped back into the wall as his body relaxed, hand finally releasing his gown, though any "tent" that was there prior had long since collapsed. His sister had been 23. His parents were 47 and 51. If his sister were still alive, she'd have to be 98. Not to mention his friends...

"Naturally, you will have quite the culture shock returning to the modern world," Doctor Reginald said softly, stepping closer to Claude and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "The technology is going to be one thing, though fortunately it's not too drastically different from what your engineers and programmers were working towards at the time. No, the greatest change..." The doctor's eyes turned towards Nicole with a smirk, amused as he looked at the still confused nurse before once more turning back to Claude. He patted the young man's shoulder, and then began to pace again.

"Around fifty years ago medical science achieved quite the curious break-through: control over fertility," he began with a curious excitement. "We were able to control so that any human was born infertile, but, as soon as they decided they wanted to conceive of a child, they simply went to the hospital and had a procedure done that would make them fertile again."

Claude opened his mouth to speak, confusion on his face, but the doctor waved his question or objection away. "Now, it wasn't widespread at first, and still had some issues that needed to be ironed out. It was more invasive back then. However, the methods and technology advanced to the point to... well, every human – at least, the majority born in first-world countries – are born infertile. When they choose to become fertile, they go to the hospital, have a quick, non-invasive procedure performed, and voila, they're fertile again! This advancement also coincided with the rapid resolution to many of the world's STD's, including-" Reginald suddenly stopped his pacing, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. He stepped behind Nicole, allowing his hands to rest upon her shoulders.

"Sorry, I was becoming carried away. My point is this: what do you think happens to a society where perceived consequences such as disease and unplanned pregnancy become a thing of the past?" There was silence for a moment as Claude looked to the doctor in confusion, but slowly looked down towards Nurse Nicole, her expression blushing slightly.

"Doctor," she whispered, hiding her eyes from her patient, "was it really that... weird for me to... wake him up like that?" Doctor Reginald just laughed and gave her shoulders a few pats.

"You see, son," the doctor nodded as he began pacing again, "sex is not the restricted thing it was in your era. It is quite commonplace now. Strangers engage in sex quite frequently. It's on the Net, streamed across nearly every service and service package. Social media is filled with sexual exploits, and no one bats an eye. In the workplace, at the theme parks, even on the city bus, there's no guarantee you'll see it, but there's a chance you'll see it happen." The doctor then gestured to Nicole. "To our modern patients with minor procedures that offer no prohibition to sexual contact, Nurse Nicole offers a personalized wake-up service..." He then turned to Claude once more. "As do many of our other nurses. It's not standard practice, mind you, but there's no reason to look down upon it."

Once more the doctor approached Claude, his brow furrowed in thought and confusion, trying to process what he was hearing, figure out if it was all a prank. "That, my son, is what you'll no doubt have the most significant challenge to adjust to. Some that get revived from your time are able to jump in eagerly, but man others, well..." The doctor reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a card. "No one really carries these anymore, but without modern tech I can't pass this on any other way. It's a support group for others removed from their own times, too, working to adjust." Reginald handed the simple card out, and Claude, hand trembling slightly, took it and just stared.

"Now then, I'll leave you alone to... process," the doctor nodded. He then turned to Nicole. "Come, nurse. Best leave him alone for now, and I'll catch you up to speed a bit more." Nicole looked between the doctor and Claude, seeming to want to say something, but instead slowly climbed off the bed. She followed the doctor out, pausing briefly at the door to look back to him.

Claude didn't even notice. He just stared at the card.

To be continued! Probably!

Edited September 30, 2023 by Minorikawa

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

Wake-Up Call: Part Two

Claude had spent much of the remaining day laying back in his bed, thinking to himself. His memory would gradually piece itself back together, fitting together like tiny puzzle pieces stretching across an entire basketball court. Not just the moments preceding his going under, but of his childhood, teenage years, and even College experiences. Doctor Reginald and Nurse Nicole had returned in the evening to check his blood pressure, his oxygenation, and to go over the more practical aspects of waking up. Unlike a coma patient, his muscles hadn't atrophied because he had been in suspended animation. Everything had shut down, including the aging process. Well, technically it just slowed down, but in seventy-five years he had simply become three days older. This, of course, explained his thirst and hunger, which were swiftly being addressed. In addition, his muscles and bones were sore and stiff due to simply not moving for so long. It was recommended he step out of the bed every so often, get used to moving again, but would otherwise need no rehabilitation.

Even so, they were going to keep him for another day, then discharge him the following morning. They would explain his entry into this new life the following day.

By night time he couldn't sleep. It was all too much, and while he wanted to believe it was all a dream, it just wasn't surreal enough. He remembered too much of his life, and, as ridiculous as it sounded, this one made too much sense. Yet everyone he knew was gone. Should he have just accepted his fate? What was the point of living if the world you knew was gone? That he could hear the occasional moaning or grunting from outside his room, indications that a nurse and patient were engaging in some kind of copulation or pleasure, only made it hit harder. It was worse than College dorms, where it was at least all happening muffled behind closed doors. He decided to turn the television back on – though they simply called it The Wall now as it was built into the building – and browsed. Everything wasn't just arranged by streaming ...platforms? Channels? But it was all organized in categories with recommendations. Only a handful of services like the news streamed live. Most everything was prerecorded and uploaded to watch at the viewer's leisure.

But boy, were ads still present.

Viewing news and documentaries, Claude found that the politicians were all unfamiliar and most of the biggest companies from his time were gone or a footnote. Streamed concerts were littered with holograms and were typically some fusion of electronic dance and industrial. Most jarring, however, was the number of programs that just featured sex. It wasn't even like they just took shows from his time, many of which were filled with sexual scenes but had to hide the genitals, and made them fully pornographic. There was that, certainly, dramatic shows where characters would fuck. It was even in sitcoms, it was in celebrity interviews, athletes would be getting sucked off or given a handjob while being asked questions about the latest game. It was strange, but it also wasn't always a focus. It wasn't that it was always present, it's that it could be present at any moment, any time.

He had to shut it off after a time and just try to sleep, which, fortunately, did come to him. When he awoke, for a brief moment he had expected it all to be a dream, that he'd be in his hospital in his time. Instead, he awoke to the same room as yesterday, in the same bed as yesterday. The only thing missing was Nurse Nicole and the other bed that had been in the room. He tapped the button on the remote that illuminated the clock on the Wall display. Hm, they let him sleep late, huh? It was about 10:34am. Made sense, as he must have tossed and turned until well after midnight.

Sitting up, Claude once more turned on the Wall, shuffling around the different "channels" and programs, seeking something that might be a bit interesting to watch. It all just seemed so... unusual, though. Things had evolved and changed, be it in lingo and slang, fashion, or even how they talked about things. After about fifteen minutes of aimlessly browsing he sighed, shutting it back off, turning his head to gaze out the window. His mind was a blank slate, unable to truly process anything more at the moment. He wasn't aware of how many minutes ticked by before he heard the silent squeaking of wheels. Turning towards the door, a blonde nurse wheeled in a bed with a rather husky gentleman, balding with gray in his beard and mustache. He looked to be unconscious at the moment, resting peacefully.

"Hello, hello," said the blonde nurse cheerfully. "You're getting yourself a roommate!" Her voice was clear yet soft, sounding quiet yet projecting perfectly. She carefully aligned the bed in the space beside Claude, where it had been located the day prior. Though there were curtains to act as a partition, the blonde nurse did nothing to create a division or sense of privacy. Instead she finished lining up the bed and, when satisfied, gave a nod and picked up what looked like a glass tablet. Tapping her finger on the corner, it suddenly illuminated with information, revealing itself to be a touchscreen complete with a whole host of information. Her brow furrowed, her eyes looking between the tablet and the patient, the tablet and the patient, until she tapped the tablet against her shoulder. "Looks like he'd be fine for a wake up call, but...." She was silent for a moment, puffing her cheeks. "He's not exactly... my type." She tapped the tablet on her shoulder again before looking at it once more. With a heavy sigh she rolled her head back along her shoulders, pressed the corner of the tablet to deactivate the information, and placed it back in its sleeve at the end of the patient's bed. "Aww, guy's got it rough enough, guess I should give him something to be happy about..."

Claude just watched as the blonde nurse spoke as if he wasn't even there, his eyes widening slightly as she clambered onto the end of the bed, her hands taking the husky man's ankles and spreading them apart, positioning herself the same way Nurse Nicole had been positioned yesterday. Unceremoniously lifting the husky man's hospital gown up, exposing the lower half of his body including his soft, limp cock and hairy sac, the blonde continued to fight a bit to keep the gown still about his oversized waist. Once settled, her delicate fingers wrapped about the man's soft member, tugging it softly, stretching it a bit, humming a song to herself between gentle licks along the crown. Soon her fingers were no longer tugging and stretching the soft, flaccid penis, but instead caressing along its rigid, though fairly average, length. Continuing to hum, she leaned down, wrapping her lips around the man's cock, slowly beginning to slurp around his crown.

Finally Claude turned away, looking towards the window, his fingers grasping the bed sheet over him. She behaved as if he wasn't even there! It was one thing to see it on television, but aside from her greeting she behaved as if she were in the room alone! And what was with that mentality? Why would she be giving this strange, unconscious man head? Even with the window there, he could see the silhouette of her reflection, her blonde hair shimmering against the window as it began to bob up and down, the soft smack and slurping of her lips as she began to slowly, affectionately suck on his cock. Even in College he never experienced something like this!

"Oh, Carrie!" sang a familiar, singing voice. Turning his head reflexively Claude saw Nicole stepping in, a clear tablet of her own in hand. The brunette nurse smiled infectiously, and the blonde lifted her own head free with a loud slurp, turning to look over her shoulder, her skirt peeling up her thighs. "Hey Nicole," she said, her wrist twisting as she continued to stroke the unconscious patient's cock. Nicole smiled and opened her mouth, about to speak, when her eyes glanced over at Claude. The smile diminished somewhat, but not for long as she stepped towards his bed, a hand grasping onto one of the curtains.

"I see you're giving Mr. O'Leary a wake-up call?" Nicole said cheerfully.

"Yeah," Carrie, the blonde nurse, sighed. "He's not really my type, but, with what he's been going through, I figured he could use a happy little surprise." She dove her head back down just as Nicole pulled the curtain closed, though Claude could still hear the sound of slurping beyond the partition. His fingers gripped and worked the bed sheet nervously as Nicole stepped around to the other side, pressing a button on her tablet to load up his own data. A loud slurp could be heard as Carrie slipped off of her patient's cock once more. "You got yourself a hunk there, though. I bet you enjoyed giving him a wake up call."

Nicole smiled nervously, her body hesitating a moment. Her eyes glanced downwards, to the corner of her eye, looking towards Claude, but not at him. More at the bed. She swiftly began to swipe her finger along the tablet, scrolling through information, as she nervously said "Actually, Mr. Thomas here was unfrozen two days ago. He's from a time where a wake up call would be seen as..." She hesitated, looking back into his eyes. "Bizarre."

"That's too bad," Carrie said. "Well, Mr. Thomas, it's not too late!" The blonde giggled and the slurping resumed, her shadowy silhouette still somewhat visible and her reflection in the window as visible as before. Nicole blushed, and her eyes darted towards Claude's place in the bed again. His eyes finally followed, growing wide and blushing brightly himself as he saw the tent protruding upwards from the bed sheet. He swiftly snatched the pillow behind him and dropped it onto his lap, gazing downwards as Nicole's fingers seemed to fumble on her tablet.

"Alright, just need to get your blood pressure..." Nicole said, though there was a somewhat nervous tremble to her voice. She grabbed what looked like an oversized sleeve, just as she had last night, and waited for Claude to lift his arm. She slipped it down to his bicep and pressed a button on her tablet that shrunk it to fit, before then pressing a button on her tablet to expand it. This, at least, was only slightly different from what he remembered, the machine taking as long to expand as it carefully measured. As the machine loudly expanded, blocking some of the suckling sounds from the next bed over, Nicole leaned in close, her breasts hanging low, those same two buttons undone to reveal some of her creamy flesh. "I'm sorry for yesterday," she whispered. "I thought maybe it would be something nice before you had to hear any bad news. I didn't realize how strange it would be." She continued to blush as she stood back upright, checking the reading on her tablet as the blood pressure cuff deflated.

"It's... you're alright," Claude nodded, speaking softly. Suddenly there was a groan from the bed beside.

"Mmm... what's..." began the deep, husky voice of a man. "Ahh, now this is a wonderful way to wake up after surgery." The blonde giggled, a loud slurp as her mirror reflection indicated she slipped her lips free of the man's cock.

"Now, now, Mr. O'Leary," Carrie said in a teasing tone, "you have to stay completely still, or else I can't keep going."

"Wouldn't want that now, would we?" the man said, the two chuckling in unison. For not being her type, she's certainly having fun. Claude thought it somewhat sarcastically, but he couldn't help but turn his eyes to Nicole beside him, the flare of her hips, the cinch of her waist, that heavy bust of hers, and her face blushing slightly. Her eyes were still darting towards his pillow, knowing what was beneath it. She seemed to have lost her concentration, finger hovering over the tablet before suddenly swiping and finding a new page.

"So, um, today the doctor is going to be meeting with a relative of yours," she said to Claude, doing her best to keep her own voice down while still speaking above the moans and slurps in the nearby bed. "It looks to be a grand-child of your sister's, though..." She groaned and clicked her tongue. "Of course they don't give me any further info than that... So-"

"Why don't you let me see those tits, nurse?" the patient, Mr. O'Leary, suddenly groaned. Carrie simply giggled, the soft shuffle of buttons through cloth barely audible. Nicole blushed a bit more brightly, her thighs rubbing against each other. She looked somewhat perturbed by the interruption, but in part because she looked as turned on as he was. A thought that struck Claude in his gut, confusing him even further in regards to what he thought about living in this strange new time. Soon enough Carrie was moaning as well, the soft sound of a rough palm handling a soft breast joining the slurping and deep groans.

"So," Nicole continued, "we're going to explain the situation to your relative, who is best suited for providing a living space and helping acclimate you to your new life. In addition, they have right to help you access any financial or other accounts as well as government documents regarding your identity. We already gave them warning before we unfroze you for operation, today they're just getting a full brief on what is expected of them." She looked up back into Claude's eyes, the blush still bright on her cheeks, her mind clearly swarming with other thoughts as she looked at him. "Umm..." she began, her fingers drumming on the tablet, trying to figure out what she wanted to say next, or even what she was supposed to say next.

"Mmm, why don't you wrap these tits around my cock, nurse?" the gruff voice of Mr. O'Leary suddenly said. Another slurp and pant preceded Carrie's eager "Yes, sir," as she giggled, the neighboring bed creaking slightly as she shifted. The red in Nicole's cheeks deepened.

"I'll be back tonight to check on your vitals," she hurriedly said, shutting the tablet down and grabbing the equipment. She steered the wheeled contraptions out, and Claude could not help but allow his eyes to wander down to the short length of her skirt and the way her ass swayed with each step. She really was an exceptionally attractive woman, not much older than he was, and, if he had to admit, he'd never had a girlfriend that looked as good as her before. Hell, his freshman year girlfriend was good looking, but just didn't have those proportions. Yet the amount of time it took them to flirt, then to date, then to have a first kiss... it all felt normal, expected. Weeks or months of time passing before they even considered something sexual. He hadn't been awake yet and Nicole had already placed her lips around his cock.

And the thought was making his erection, smothered by the pillow, twitch and throb in eager desire.

What the fuck, man? he thought to himself. It was only after asking himself such a question that he began to register his neighbors again, both of them panting, though it was Mr. O'Leary doing the groaning. The soft shuffle of flesh on flesh could be heard as the mattress patted and creaked a bit. Looking to the reflection he could barely make out Carrie's hands pressed to her breasts, rising up and down, giving Mr. O'Leary the embrace of her breasts he desired.

"I'm gonna cum!" the man suddenly groaned. Carrie seemed to pick up the pace at this, panting even more heavily. Claude couldn't tell if he was annoyed or wanted to reach under the sheets, pillow, and hospital gown and start feeling himself up. Perhaps he was annoyed that he was so turned on by this in the first place.

"I'm cuuuu~!" Mr. O'Leary cried, and Carrie yelped and giggled as she slowed, allowing her breasts to collect the white geyser of cum lifting up from between her breasts and splattering back down against her rounded breasts. At least, that's what Claude imagined. He couldn't see those details, just that she had paused, then slowly resumed caressing as O'Leary relaxed and let out a deep sigh.

"Oh!" Carrie exclaimed. "Still firing a few off! You must have been awfully pent up, there, Mr. O'Leary." Another giggle as the reflection of her blonde head leaned down. The man groaned softly, the lapping of a tongue on flesh heard audibly.

"Just for you, nurse," the man said with a soft chuckle.

Claude sighed, still uncertain whether he was annoyed at the couple or at himself. Just one more day. One more day and he was at least out of this hospital and into a new life.

To be concluded! Probably!

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

Wake-Up Call: Part Three

Claude spent most of his day staring out the window, watching the birds fly across the sky, the blue hue gradually changing to golden and then red as the sun set. He would stand up and walk around the room when he could, going as far as the IV would allow him, getting the feeling in his muscles and limbs back. The best he could describe it was a slow thaw. You remove something from a freezer and it is completely stiff, hard as a rock, but as time passes it returns to its soft, more malleable form. That's certainly how he was feeling, enough so that he was eager for a trip to the gym or just a jog.

His roommate, Mr. O'Leary, remained, flipping channels on his portion of the wall display. He watched a little bit of everything, from the news, to sitcoms, to some science-fiction movie in which humans were still afraid of A.I. gaining sentience and deciding humanity needed to be wiped out to save the Earth. Curious how that trope just refused to die even after so many advancements in technology. Not everything had some degree of sex in it, but on occasion he'd hear the familiar sounds of moaning and flesh-on-flesh. Any arousal at this point was diminished, as he felt nothing but discomfort at the prospect of having an erection with Mr. O'Leary right there, gazing at the wall, watching as well. Oddly enough, though, O'Leary rarely seemed turned on when such things happened. At one point Claude had feigned some stretches, twisting his upper body from side-to-side, allowing him to glimpse the older man while such a scene was playing. The man had yawned, overall seemed bored, and before the scene even finished he had already begun seeking another program to stream.

As the sun was nearly set, however, Mr. O'Leary was discharged. They had monitored him, taken some blood tests, and found everything to read good. By time the sky's hue had shifted to purple, Claude was alone in the room again, growing darker as the lights were off, staring back out the window, the wall monitor deactivated, the only glow coming in from the moon and city lights outside. Tomorrow he would be meeting his deceased sister's grand-child. It was a bizarre notion. A relative he'd never met and yet was so directly connected. A grand-nephew or grand-niece that, had he lived a normal life, he'd have been able to see born and grow up. Hell, he didn't even know his niece or nephew that had given birth to this relative! With a heavy sigh he lifted his hand behind his neck, rubbing it, the locks of his hair feeling no longer than the day he remembered going into the hospital. His memory had cleared up enough that it felt like two or three days ago. He had just seen his sister and parents, and now they were gone.

It wasn't just the sex everywhere that was getting to him. It was this incredible feeling of isolation.

"Mr. Thomas?" a soft voice spoke from behind him. He could see the reflection of Nicole behind him. She always seemed a little nervous now, as if she were walking on egg shells. Understandable, given both of their confusion upon his waking up. "It's time to check your vitals." Claude nodded and turned back to the bed, sitting himself down upon the edge before laying back in it. Nicole wheeled in her cart, his eyes gazing at the white skirt clinging tightly to her thighs and rear with each step she took, those top two buttons on her uniform undone to reveal the soft ripple of bounteous flesh with each step she took.

"Do you like your job?" he asked, his eyes finally looking up into her eyes. She looked back, a soft smile spreading across her face as she prepared the cuff once more.

"I do," she nodded, her voice soft as she slipped the cuff around his arm. "It's never fun to be in a hospital, but if I can, maybe I can make the time and stay here seem not so bad." Her eyes averted his gaze now, her voice getting softer, a light blush as she seemed a bit embarrassed to confess to this feeling. She pressed the button that closed the cuff on his arm, then once more pressed the button to begin pumping it, measuring his blood pressure.

"The other nurse," he began, turning towards the now empty bed beside him, "she didn't seem interested in Mr. O'Leary, not physically, but she still seemed to have fun." He turned back to Nicole, his mouth opened, but seeing her gaze on him, eyes studying, ears perked and listening, he shut his mouth. Now he blushed, looking instead to the ceiling. "I guess it just seems odd, not finding someone attractive but then not only having sex, but enjoying it. Even flirting and stuff." He continued to stare at the ceiling as the cuff reached its limit, slowly deflating and measuring as Nicole had placed the oxygen sensor on his finger. After some silence, long enough the cuff deflated and she got her reading, she spoke.

"Sex is fun," she stated almost matter-of-factly. "Everyone has their preferences, their favorites, but sex is... I dunno, it's just fun." She lifted the clear tablet and began to punch in the readings. "It's like movies. You might watch something even if it's not your favorite."

Claude watched as she began to swap out the IV bag. She seemed more relaxed now that he was speaking to her, but also like she was trying to hurry. There was still that air of nervousness, slight tremors in her fingers. He looked into her eyes once more, her beautiful bright blue eyes, the shimmering brown locks of hair cascading in waves past her shoulders, her perfectly shaped face. The full moon illuminated her, almost giving her an angelic aura. On impulse, without thinking, he reached a hand out, fingers slipping along to her waist, caressing down to her hip. Her body stiffened in surprise, eyes slightly widened, looking to him in shock, but her mouth slowly grew to a bright smile.

"Thank you," she said, "for being more comfortable with me." Claude simply smiled.

"Thank you for being a caring nurse," he said. His hand left her side, but only to push himself up off the bed, sitting up, his eyes locked onto her own. He reached forward, fingers combing through those brunette locks, wrapping around the nape of her neck. He pulled her forward, her eyes widening.

"Wait, kissing is for-!" she began, but before she could finish he had already closed his eyes and locked his lips around her own. He hesitated a moment, her startled, muffled yelp leaving him concerned he made a mistake, but Nicole soon relaxed, moaning softly as her tongue slipped towards his own. She lifted one hand, still clad in vinyl gloves, behind his own head, pulling him closer as she gently sought a sturdy place to leave the tablet, careful to make sure it was secure. As she wrapped her other arm around his back, sliding between his shoulder blades, she let out another moan, vibrating against his mouth as their tongues swirled and wrestled with one another. When the kiss finally broke it was only so his lips could peck along her cheek, planted smaller kisses towards her ear, traveling down her neck. He could already feel his hospital gown shifting, his member aroused once more, though far more eager.

Somewhere in his mind he knew what he was really doing. She felt close, connected, a physical presence. He shoved this acknowledgment aside as his fingers slipped from behind her head, both hands reaching for the remaining buttons on her uniform, slowly undoing them as he began to kiss along her collar bone. He could feel her breasts lifting with deeper breaths, hear each excited exhale as he began to expose more and more of her chest to him. Fingers continued to caress and scratch between his shoulder blades, keeping him close as her other descended, slipping beneath that gown, dainty vinyl-clad digits seeking that growing cock she had gotten just a taste of. Wrapping around its growing mass she gently stroked, groaning each time her fingers squeezed as his hands finally unfastened enough of Nicole's uniform so as to spread it open. He opened his eyes, expecting to see some future lacey bra in place, but instead her breasts were completely bare, the inside of the uniform seeming to have support built-in.

Even now he was nearly distracted, wanting to ask questions about the difficulty of such fittings, but the increased pace of her stroking fingers immediately put such thoughts aside as his thighs spread further apart, meaty member hard as a diamond in her grip as he dove forward and wrapped his lips about her left nipple, tongue immediately flicking the bit as his thumb began to circle the areola of her right. She gasped, her fingers tightening their hold on his cock, her other hand rising from his shoulders to the back of his head, cradling him towards her bosom.

"Mmm, aren't they nice?" she whispered softly to him, her breath trembling as she cooed with each suckle and tongue flick applied. Her other hand was no longer teasing, stroking and tugging in earnest, each jerk of his cock causing his sac to bounce up and down. In return he grazed his teeth along her soft flesh, closing them onto her nipple, tongue gently flicking against the bit now caught between his teeth. Her head tossed back, eyes shut, a soft cry released to the air as her fingers tightened against his head. Giving one, two, three more pumps to his cock as his teeth tugged and stretched at that nipple, she finally released, her hands pressing to his shoulders instead.

"Lay back," she commanded, beginning to hike her thigh up onto the bed. Her skirt peeled upwards, revealing she wore no panties, either. He reluctantly released her breast from his mouth, her hands urgently pushing his shoulders back as she clambered on up to the bed, her thighs spread to either side of him. Her eyes lingered on his, the smile big on her face, her breasts hanging and swaying free. Her fingers hooked and peeled her skirt up further, enough for her ass to be seen from behind, her pubic hair neatly trimmed into the shape of a heart. Her eyes still locked to his own, she let out an excited little giggle as she next peeled up his hospital gown. Not just enough to reveal his cock this time, the crown and length shining with the sticky precum smeared by her gloved hand, but to further lift it and expose his abdomen and chest. Planting one hand into the pillow beside his head and the other down to the base of his cock, she lifted herself up, the bed creaking slightly as she did so, and positioned the crown to slip between her folds.

"Ah!" she yelped, eyes closing, mouth agape as his member first penetrated. His hands grasped onto her pale thighs, squeezing tightly as he felt her warm, wet core begin to surround and squeeze, her body slowly lowering all the way down. "Aaaahhh, ffffuck!" she moaned softly, her head tilting back the further she plunged. Once she comfortably had him filling her, she opened her eyes once more, smiling, hands now leaning back to grasp onto his shins. Slowly she swirled her hips, causing him to groan in return, watching her motions, feeling her steer and caress his cock to press and rub along her inner walls. All he could do was watch, suddenly surprised that this was actually happening, that this nurse he just met yesterday was on top of him, in his hospital bed, circling her hips with his cock inside of her.

"God, that's a good cock," she gasped, her voice high pitched, but her eyes still locked onto his own. Her gaping mouth spread into a smile as she began to roll her hips forward, lifting them slightly before giving another swirl. "Mmm, I knew it," she moaned. His eyes finally looked up, his abdomen flexing as this last swirl sent a particular tremor along from his smooth crown.

"Knew what?" he asked, surprised to hear himself panting so deeply. She gave one more swirl before pushing off of his shins, leaning forward, her fingers sliding up his abdomen slowly until they rest upon his chest. Leaning in, her brown hair falling over her shoulder, lips close to his ear, she whispered.

"I knew you'd have a wonderful pleasure face," she moaned, grinding her hips slowly onto him. He could feel her own dripping wetness dampen his balls beneath her, each grind causing his muscles to tense as his fingers slid from her thighs to her ass. "Mmm, a face like yours, showing all the pleasure I give..." She seemed to moan more intensely as she spoke, her hips speeding up, grinding faster, more urgently as her teeth bit onto his lobe and tugged. "Nnnnrgh, makes me so fucking hot..."

Her hands pushed against his chest, sitting her up, her breasts swaying more wildly as she drove her hips into him as fast as she could, pressing his cock this way and that, the both of them groaning and moaning as the hospital bed creaked and squealed. His fingers dug tightly into her ass, pushing and pulling as if to try and help her go faster, eager to smack her butt frightened of making too much noise, drawing too much attention from the others outside.

Nicole, however, had no such concerns. Her hands finally left his chest and instead lifted into her hair, bundling the strands up as she fully began to bounce up and down on him. Now their flesh clapped loudly together, their wet, horny mixture glistening against each of their crotches as each drop of her hips caused her to groan. Her eyes were finally closed, becoming lost in her own ecstasy as her head tossed back, hands beginning to feel across her whole body, grasping her bouncing breasts and caressing along her stomach. His hands had returned to gripping her thighs, his hips bucking upwards each time she dropped down, his eyes gazing at that tight pussy dripping and bouncing on his thick, throbbing cock.

His hand stretched forward, thumb extending, seeking her clit as she bounced, his digit gently brushing against it as she lifted herself up and down. Her body stiffened but didn't stop, her moans higher now, hands massaging and kneading her own tits as she ground her hips forward with each bounce, trying to feel that thumb against her most sensitive nub. Part of him was embarrassed by her volume, wanting to hush her, to cover her mouth, but no one outside was complaining. No one seemed to care that his bed was creaking like it was going to break, her body rhythmically clapped against his, her moans echoing within the room and no doubt down the hall.

He wasn't sure which happened first, so lost was he in the intense pleasure. At some point her inner muscles held tight and trembled, the warm flow of her orgasm pouring out onto his crotch and balls. His own cock throbbed and pulsed, pumping thick cum deep into her. She didn't stop until both had released is all he knew, his mind a fog of pleasure and moans before finally she dropped down onto him, her sweaty flesh and crumpled uniform laid against his own sweaty abdomen and chest. Their hearts pounded against one another as they each caught their breath, his hardened member slowly softening inside of her, their fluids spilling from her and onto him.

One minute could have passed, one hour could have passed. It was all the same to Claude, who just laid there, one arm wrapped around Nicole, feeling her body against his, the both of them relaxing from post-coital bliss. Yet she slowly pushed off, leaning forward to give him a kiss on a cheek, breasts rubbing and pressing to his chest.

"Thank you," she said, beginning to sit up, pulling herself off from him and climbing off of the bed. "I am glad to have pleased you as a patient." Her smile was bright, a light blush on her cheeks, but something felt a bit... odd, to Claude. She reached into her cart with all of its equipment and grabbed several moist-wipes and towels, and began to first wipe herself down, cleaning not just their collective cum off, but taking the towel to then clean the sweat off of herself. "I was so worried that I made you uncomfortable and you'd leave here unhappy, but I'm glad to have helped you be more comfortable." She sighed happily as she used clean wipes to begin removing all of the mess from his own crotch, though her fingers did not do so daintily, or teasingly, or anything of the sort. She cleaned him off like she was a waitress clearing a table at a restaurant.

"Well, I hope this means you're a bit more comfortable with your new situation," she said happily, disposing of their collected wipes and towels in a biohazard bin. She then began to straighten her skirt and button it back up, her fingers readjusting the cups against her breasts. When finished she finally looked back into his eyes, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "You were definitely my type, too. I don't get patients like you often." With a satisfied sigh and smile she took the cart, pulling it and walking towards the room exit. She paused once more, looking over her shoulder. "I hope you had a wonderful stay, Mr. Thomas."

Then she stepped out, leaving Claude alone in the moonlit darkness.

~~~

Claude stared back out the window, only this time the IV had been removed and he had been provided a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers in approximately his size. A different nurse had tended to him this morning, neither Nicole nor the blonde. In his hand he held the card the doctor had given him, the support group for others like himself needing to adjust and acclimate to this new life.

"I see you are ready to go," a familiar voice spoke. Once more Claude could see in the reflection that it was the doctor, Reginald. He turned and nodded, facing the man.

"I dunno about ready to go, but..." he began, looking around the room. His eyes lingered over to the bed, recalling the previous night. "I think it's time I leave." The doctor followed his gaze, smiling and nodding.

"There was something different about it, wasn't there?" the doctor said softly, stepping closer. "It might not even be clear, just trace differences that made it confusing to you?"

"I still felt alone," Claude said, surprised at how easily it had been blurted out. He turned back to the doctor. "Is she with another patient today?" he asked, trying to conceal any hint of jealousy. He didn't really know Nicole, nor did he understand what either he or she felt last night. He just felt... well, he felt frustrated. He wanted to feel a connection, and for a brief moment he had, but then she just... left, and it seemed as if there was nothing special about what was shared.

"No," the doctor replied with a smile, shaking his head. "She has off the next few days before doing another four day shift. That simple." The doctor gave a shrug before wrapping his arms around Claude's shoulders. "Still, I would expect not to see her again, even during your follow-up appointment a week from now." The doctor paused, as if he had forgotten something. "Ah! Yes, we need to follow-up and make sure you're still physically alright and adjusting. I trust you have that card I gave you, though?" Claude nodded. "Good. That you'll want to go to right away."

The doctor began to walk Claude out the door, speaking no more of Nurse Nicole or anything to do with sex. He instead began to give a list of side-effects to look out for, instructions on where to get new IDs, resources for finding work or education, and how it all would be given to his relative. Claude listened, but he didn't really register.

He was alone, and he didn't know what to do about it.

Concluded! I'd love to continue the story from there with a partner, so if you'd be interested, feel free to EcchiText me! Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed!

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

PUNCTURED HOLES, LOST SOULS

Marcus Miller laid his head back in the patched up leather recliner that couldn't even recline. The handle had broken off and no one knew where it was. Not that it mattered, the room itself was a dump. Just a box spring and mattress on the floor, no bedframe, cheap sheets disheveled and stained. They were once a pure white, but are now blotted with pale yellows and even browns. The carpet was old, like the sort you might find in a school from the 70's, short and stiff threads that have suffered spills of unknown substance scattered about. The walls had clearly been painted over recently, but haphazardly enough that dripping lines of paint had dried and frozen in place. It was some strange orange color, like those cheap peanut candies you can find at the dollar store that old grandmas give away on Halloween. There was only a single window, but the panes and frame were painted black to seal it closed. Two standing lamps, in opposite corners of the room, were the only light to illuminate this dingy, crappy little bed chamber.

"Did you fall asleep, you fucker?" came the scratchy voice of an older woman that's smoked too many packs of cigarettes in a day for most of her life. Her hair was an artificially died red piled into a messy bun, lines on her face deep as her purple eyeshadow made her look tired, red lipstick over cracked lips that sucked on a cig right then and there. She wore a fake fur coat over her shoulders that looked like the only cleaned and cared for thing in the room, with a deep purple dress underneath. The neckline plunged low offering quite the view of the valley of sagging, spotted breasts. Not that she cared if they didn't look as good as those of the younger women's, Marcus knew. She just ran the place, and her geriatric submissive of a man enjoyed every wrinkled inch of her. The shame was that she wasn't even fifty-five yet and she looked older than sixty. The city, the men, and the trade were not kind to Madam Analita, but, well, neither was she kind to herself.

"Not at all, Madam," Marcus smiled, opening his eyes back up. "Your masseuse is just such an expert I can't help but feel relaxed." His eyes turned from the Madam to the brunette with dreadlocks whose head was bobbing in his lap. She was rather unassuming, wearing a pair of denim overalls with a tube top underneath covering her breasts. Not the typical attire for a prostitute, but what did it matter when it was only worn for so long? He let out a sigh as his fingers softly gripped the arms of the recliner, his middle and ring fingers on his left hand digging a bit into a hole with some yellow stuffing spilling out. The young woman, Melanie, kept a steady pace of dipping her lips down and up, her delicate fingers gripping his length and giving it a twist each time she lowered back down.

"You dumb son of a bitch," Analita replied. "I can't tell if you're a liar or believe the shit that comes out of your own mouth."

Marcus simply smirked. "So, Madam," he began with a breathy sigh of pleasure, "to what do I owe this treatment and appointment? You don't give freebies to your best customers, after all." He smiled at the older woman and batted his eyes. She took another drag on her cigarette, seeming to contemplate cutting his balls off.

"I don't need you as a customer," she puffed the smoke out into the air. "I need you as a detective, but off the books. I don't want to answer no questions down at the station, nor do I want patrols crawlin' up and down the streets here."

Marcus opened his mouth to reply, but instead a gasp came out, eyes closing as Melanie dove down fully, her throat clasping and squeezing around his full length. He pulsed and throbbed within her mouth, thighs spreading further apart as his muscles tensed, body trembling slightly. Her tongue wriggled side-to-side as she gulped down, caressing and squeezing at his crown, coaxing a pearl of precum free. With a fully suppressed gag reflex she pulled back, continuing her steady rhythm from before, twisting her hand each time her lips slid down to meet her fingers. "Yeah," Marcus grunted in response to Analita, "I'm not on duty these days anyway, so might as well. What's the job?"

Madam Analita took another drag, the cigarette swiftly burning down to ash. It was no wonder her voice was shot. "You've been looking into the missing working girls," the Madam stated.

"I have," Marcus panted, his chest rising higher with each breath. "One of your girls missing?"

"Not mine," the Madam shook her head. "An independent."

"I thought you didn't care about anyone but your girls," Marcus said with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't," the Madam confirmed before motioning her cigarette towards Melanie, tapping the ashes out onto the carpet before stamping them out with the toe of her stiletto heel. Melanie gave one last slow suck, cheeks caving in, tongue lashing at the frenulum on the underside of Marcus' crown as she pulled off his cock with a pop. His hips rose with her lips, letting out a gasp as fingers dug deeper into the recliner's arms.

"She's my friend," Melanie said, perhaps looking into his eyes for the first time since this little session started. Her dainty fist continued to stroke along his hardened length, twisting at his crown, the slick combination of spittle and precum creating soft, wet sounds to echo through the room as she spoke.

"Okay," Marcus nodded, not fully comprehending why Madam Analita would want to help her. "What's she to you?" he asked, turning to the older woman even as Melanie continued to stroke him off. The woman was shrewd, after all. No one takes a female-operated whorehouse seriously, so you need to be able to pay better than the competition for the best muscle and protection. The problem is that this leaves little room to spend frivolously elsewhere. The girls themselves are typically paid less than the pimps will, but most girls that choose the pimps over Analita realize that there are greater costs of working under such men, including the inability to change your mind and swap employers. Pimps don't like letting go, after all. Even so, Analita had to know that Marcus wouldn't take this job with the promise of a free blowjob. She knew it'd cost her, and she wouldn't spend money on some girl outside of her business regardless of relation or friendship.

"Nothing," Analita said curtly. "Just another slut that thinks this is a fun way to make money."

"My friend," Melanie began, "Tiffany, she thinks she's a nymphomaniac or something." She rolled her eyes, shrugging, her free hand brushing some of her dreads from her face. "I dunno, some girls just say they're nymphos so they don't feel like a slut, like they can't help it." She shrugged. "I don't know which Tiffany is, just that she figured if she's gonna fuck a bunch of guys she doesn't even like she might as well get paid for it."

"Such girls are idiots," Madam Analita shook her head, dropping her spent cigarette and stomping it out into the carpet. She immediately reached into her purse, pulling her crinkled pack out to withdraw another. Melanie leaned down to flick her tongue against Marcus' tip as the other woman spoke, causing his muscles to tense. "They have no judgment, can't tell which men are bad seeds. They fuck for pleasure, agree to meet after hours, and turn up in a dumpster dead the next morning or tossed into the sewers." The Madam shook her head as she pulled out her lighter, igniting the fresh cigarette pursed between her lips.

"So she just whores herself out," Melanie said, sitting back up. "But she lives and works across the street, meaning whoever these guys are taking whores, some of us could be next."

"So you're trying to get ahead of trouble," Marcus moaned towards the Madam, though his eyes lingered on Melanie's stroking fist and twisting wrist. With her speaking part done she dipped her head back down, but she didn't resume her prior pace. Instead her fingers splayed along Marcus' crotch, the base of his cock between her middle and ring fingers, her head diving down so her throat could catch and squeeze his crown before pulling up, rapidly bobbing down over and over, each swallow audible. Marcus' eyes shut tight, mouth gaping open, a surprised grunt escaping as she began to work him harder.

"I promise my girls safety," Madam Analita said with the cigarette between her lips. "I cannot guarantee my security will do the job, nor do I know this girl was actually kidnapped. The blowjob is payment so you'll go over and look. If it looks like she skipped town or eloped or whatever, then you got sucked off for free. Yippy skippy." She took a long drag from the cigarette before removing it from her lips, holding the smoke in a moment before slowly letting it out. "If it looks like there's something fishy, however... we have payment."

Marcus' forehead creased, teeth gritting as his head pressed back into the recliner, his thighs spreading apart as far as he could before the arm rests got in the way. His abdomen lifted, tensed, and caved with each deep breath as Melanie's head relentlessly bobbed up and down, gulping, licking, slurping. "Sounds good," he said before his hips lifted slightly, pressing into Melanie's mouth. She pulled her head back, her lips sliding all the way back to the bulbous crown, tongue flicking his slit as her fingers pinched and stroked his length. His muscles stiffening, body trembling, his mouth hung open as he let out a long growling groan of pleasure, pumping his seed into Melanie's mouth. Madam Analita looked bored as she watched her girl take and swallow the semen as it was pumped into her mouth, fingers gradually slowing, gripping tightly on the base and running her thumb up towards his tip to push as much of his cum into his mouth as she could. His body dropped right back into the recliner once his deposit was complete, and Melanie pulled off without a flourish or a single sign this was anything but work.

"I will wait here for your return, then," Analita nodded. "Melanie, Bullet Teeth will escort you home, where you may resume your day off." Melanie offered no acknowledgment or response of any kind, turning to walk out the door of the room.

"Wait a minute," Marcus said, standing from the recliner. He looked a pathetic sight, his already flaccid cock and balls hanging from the open fly of his jeans. He reached into the inside of his jacket, pulling out his wallet and opening it up. He pulled out a fifty, handing it over to Melanie with a smile. "For your trouble."

Dreadlocks tumbling over her eyes, Melanie's eyebrow rose, brow furrowed, corner of her lip quirked up. She looked from the dollar to Marcus before clicking her tongue, snatching the bill. "I'll try not to spend it all in one place," she said sarcastically, then left.

"So you really are just a dumb son of a bitch," Madam Analita sighed, taking another drag on her cigarette.

 

~~~

This is the prologue of a character/story I would like to play. It takes place adjacent to the Midnight Meetings club and setting, but as I have no ownership I will not be involving it as a central aspect to the story. The source of the kidnappings will be vampires, though I don't have exact details. I do not have any specific female protagonist in mind for my partner to play as, and am always up for her controlling multiple, as I'll likely be controlling many male characters and NPCs. Another independent prostitute, a roommate to Tiffany, her sister, a rookie cop, a neighborhood tough gal vigilante, all are good potential characters for Marcus to work alongside of. If interested, feel free to send me an EcchiText.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

The Noble Adventurer's Orientation

Dungeon City, a boisterous metropolis built around an endless cavern of transforming floors littered with beasts and even horrors unseen even by the greater world. Plunging to untold depths untamed by mankind, it spawned a bolstering economy built from minerals, monster parts, and the finest weapons, armor, jewelry, silks, and garments that could be made from them. Academics and scholars swarmed to study one of the greatest mysteries of the known world. Common mercenaries and adventurers planted their flag to chase untold of riches with which they could retire young and with all their limbs intact. Tailors, cobblers, blacksmiths, and other craftsmen came to assemble the rarest, finest quality clothing and armaments unseen anywhere else in the world. Taverns opened. Landlords came to purchase land and construct housing. Nobles came to find a position of political power.

Yet Elmer Spearook was not such a noble. He was a prince, certainly, but the fifth of the men and with two sisters above him still. Seven children total, his father and mother had more than enough princes and princesses to dedicate to foreign marriages and relations, so it was left to the youngest three to pursue other lines of noble renown. Unfortunately for Elmer, his was a family that valued toughness and conquest more than the discourse of philosophy or peace within the voluminous halls of libraries, and so he was sent to Dungeon City to be prepared at the Academy before finding glory for the family in the cavern.

If he didn't know any better he'd swear his father wanted him dead.

Upon arrival he sought to use the academy's clocktower as a landmark, but he soon found the streets were a labyrinthine maze of alleys and side-roads without any sense of order, some clearly built later than others. Clearly there was no singular civil engineer managing this city, spreading about as tangled as roots beneath the grassy plains. Directions from the local citizens proved no better, as he found their directions contradictory, misleading, and often taking him somewhere he didn't yearn to go. By the afternoon, however, he had arrived, and while it was still an adventure to find the proper office of admissions and housing, he was able to confirm his stay as well as his room. It was a good thing he had a tendency to pack light, as unpacking in his small, empty dorm room proved an easy enough task. If anything, the weight of his books is what killed him, yet ordering them nicely into a shelf was a relaxing delight.

Such relaxation could not last, however. The toll of the bell alerted him to the setting sun, and he knew soon enough the administration building would be closed. He needed to retrieve his class schedule, and he needed to hurry. His boots thudded against the wooden floor with purpose, weaving from his room and down the dorm hall. Were this another world or environment he might have given attention to some of the moans emerging from other rooms, some of the doors even open. Yet the twenty year-old noble was already familiar with the intricacies of magic and what it took for women to obtain and process the mana necessary for its casting. Such sounds, though perhaps not so numerous, was a common occurrence in the palace as the court magicians and mystic knights regularly needed to restore their magical energies. No, his focus was instead on trying to follow the signs to the administration building.

"Argh!" Elmer shouted after looping back around to the courtyard for the third time. None of the signs seemed to point him towards his actual destination, not unlike the peasantry of the city. Furthermore, none of the other students seemed around or willing to assist him. So he chose still a different path, which itself would branch, and muttering under his breath and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he stomped into yet another official looking building. He examined the entire lower floor and found nothing but empty offices. Climbing the creaking wooden steps up towards the second floor, he marched down the hall only to stop, peering into the doorways and seeing that this, too, was not an actual office building. No, it was yet another building filled with classrooms, though this one was clearly dedicated to the study, research, and experimentation of magic. His shoulders sagged and his head hung low as he sighed. Just how much time did he even have left?

His ear perked at the sudden sound of glass clinking, a soft whispering or muttering coming from one of the laboratories. He tilted his head, and while he could not make any words out, he could certainly tell that someone was speaking under their breath. Energized by the prospect of assistance, he turned to his left, pushed the door open, and stormed into the laboratory.

"Excuse me!" he greeted perhaps a bit too loudly. "I am trying to find the Administra..." The volume of his voice plummeted, jaw going slack as he found nothing less than a gorgeous Elven beauty whose very appearance shone with a divine grace. Her jewelry clicked and swayed as her eyes were drawn upwards towards the new intruder, face expressionless as her fingers paused mid-writing, a journal stretched before her as well as three glass amulets and three knives. The latter were seemingly plain, yet they had a bright blue ink painted upon them, a saucer and brush laid to the other side. Elmer finally closed his mouth, but his lips began to work with no sound emitting. The Elvish girl's eyebrow arched, her eyes looking him up and down silently, her finger tapping upon her open page.

"I do not know to what purpose you have entered here," she spoke softly, placing the quill back into its accompanying inkwell, "but you have arrived at a most suitable time." Every movement and gesture seemed practiced with royal grace. Elmer could tell, as his sisters had to go through it all. However, they never kept it up outside of official dinners, balls, visits to the peasantry, or other such events that required the nobility to appear better than their inferiors. This one, however, clearly never let up. She had practiced to perfect natural instinct, lithe and graceful. Well, with one exception: there was nothing graceful about the bounce to her breasts, each step jostling them somewhat in her dress.

"Speaking of time," he suddenly blurted, recalling why he had ducked inside in the first place, "I actually need to-" This time he was hushed by her finger, soft and delicate, her eyes looking directly into his own.

"Don't worry, I also do not wish to dilly dally," she began. Her hands took his, fingers caressing his skin softly, tugging and leading him back towards the edge of the table she had been working at. "That will do," she said more to herself than to him. Her fingers rising towards her face, brushing any loose strands of her back behind her ears, she slinked down onto her knees in a fluid, silky smooth motion. Immediately her fingers were upon his belt, and with expert speed and precision she had unlocked the buckle, slid the leather free, and begun to peel his pants down to around his knees.

"Wait, hold on!" he yelped in surprise, his hands reaching down to her shoulders. She glanced at his loose grip on her, then up into his eyes, a perturbed smolder kindling within her gaze. "I don't know what this is about but I really don't have the time!" The blonde elf rolled her eyes, her left hand sliding up his pale thigh as her other rose to his flaccid member, gently beginning to caress it, the soft flesh bending and stretching between her fingertips.

"And I am exhausted from mana deprivation," she retorted. "Now based on your appearance," she began, her eyes scanning down his body again before looking back up, "you shouldn't last long, so I can replenish myself and you can be on your merry way." Before Elmer could say anything more her lips were closed around his cock, tongue whirling around the member before flicking at the frenulum on the underside. He stood there, looking down, his ass bare towards the door and pants gathered about his knees, a strange elf whose name he didn't know before him, suckling him. He was confused, yet he couldn't prevent his own body from responding in kind, flesh beginning to swell between her lips. She gave an appreciative grunt as it started to become more rigid, her head starting to bob and cheeks caving in as she had something more firm to suck upon. The room was quiet save for the soft smack of her lips against his developing stalk, veins beginning to firmly protrude along its length. His left hand pressed down onto the table top beside him for leverage, his breath deepening and chest rising as his cock reached its full mast. He watched as she dipped halfway down, tongue caressing along the full length before flicking side to side on that frenulum of his, causing his member to twitch and his breath to hitch.

"Ah!" she said with a pop of her lips off his member, "See? This will be quick." She gave a courteous smile before extending her hand up towards him. Instinctively he reached forward with his right, taking her hand and allowing her to more easily stand as she put her weight upon him slightly. An eyebrow rose upon her forehead once again, though with a slight curve to her lips indicating that she was at least pleasantly surprised. Yes, she was certainly born of nobility.

Her jewelry continued to sway and click together as she turned from him and towards the table, planting her left hand beside his onto the surface, fingers spread apart. With her right she reached behind, grasping the back of her dress and flourishing it aside, a slit from floor to hip allowing her to fully expose her legs and hindquarters. Nobility typically did not wear such attire even if they specialized in magic, and yet he could tell that this was no commoner's dress. It was certainly made with fine silk and dyes, and the jewelry she wore expensive. She looked at him expectantly as his eyes just looked at her bare flesh and attire, his mind running calculations regarding her identity.

"If you don't have time," she said with an exhausted sigh, "then you'd better hurry up before you get soft again." She nodded her head behind and, with a moment's confused hesitation, Elmer stuttered, but shuffled behind her, pants still bunched around his knees and limiting his movement. She leaned further forward, pressing her ass towards him, parting her legs to open her sex up. His left hand press right onto her ass, thumb sliding along her petal to tug it open, revealing her entry, his right hand held his cock. Lining it up, he slowly pushed forwards, her folds spreading apart and enveloping him in their warm, damp embrace. She gave a soft gasp, but as he slid further and further in it faded into a sigh. "There you go," she said breathily, "now make haste. We do not have all day." She released her dress as his hands both slid up to grasp her hips, her right hand joining her left to plant firmly against the table top.

Holding on tightly, he pulls her into his thrust, rocking steadily, his cock sliding in and out of her heated core. She was wet, but it didn't seem like she was aroused. It was almost as if she had willed a wetness to her rather than it being some uncontrollable biological function. It was enough to keep the passage lubricated, allowing him to slide in and out without any discomfort to either, but it didn't feel right, either. Not like other women whose mana he had to recharge at the palace.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she asked, looking over her shoulder with a furrowed brow of annoyance.

"Y-yeah," he replied in a pant.

"Then hasten," she barked, looking forwards again towards the setting sun beyond the window. He stuttered once more, but digging his fingers into her hips he began to pull her back more urgently, thrusting hard, spearing her, pushing swiftly before pulling back and doing it again. She gasped and let out a cry, but after that she had recollected herself, closing her eyes and panting heavily. His sac swung beneath them, smacking into her each time as his hips clapped against her ass, ripples like waves running along her thighs with each impact. Her breasts were nearly spilling out of the top of her dress, hardly any support at all as they swung with each bounce of his cock into her. Brief squeaks and moans would emerge, but otherwise she was mostly gasps and pants. He was doing the moaning, closing his eyes, glasses slipping slowly down the bridge of his nose as he began to sweat, fingers starting to lose their grip on her hips as they grew slick with perspiration. Her moist tunnel grasped hold, each pass through her sending more intense electric jolts through him on every thrust, his moans growing louder and louder.

"Oh shhiii..." he grunted, "I'm gonna cu... I'm gonna cu...!"

"Good," she nodded, panting. She began to buck back, pressing right back into his cock as he pushed forward, until squeeze and caress of her walls on his crown became too much to bear. Tilting his head back, eyes closing, his mouth gaped open and he let out a loud groan of pleasure, voice trembling as his body shook, hips slowly, unevenly rocking back and forth as his cock twitched within and burst with the thick, creamy seed. She looked back over her shoulder, watching him, suddenly lifting her hips up and back, then down again, rocking them in a circular, up and down motion, the action caressing his crown from all sides as he rubbed against each inner wall of hers, his head dropping forward as he trembled, feeling the final spurts of his seed drip and trickle free. With his body growing still, panting heavily, she nodded. Looking forward once more she closed her eyes, began to whisper words, and with a sudden cool feeling like a mint cream wrapped around his cock, he felt a tingling, then a suction. His hips bucked forward, brow furrowed, gasping as she continued to whisper her words, the creamy seed once surrounding his cock suddenly pulling away, the life force distributed by his ejaculate converted into precious manner energy within her.

She sighed in satisfaction and the cool, tingling feeling subsided, the suction finished. Pushing off of the table she stepped away, his cock falling from her, softening in the cool air, shining and damp but not coated in cum of any kind.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, her dress flowing back into its prior state, flowing around her legs as she stepped back to her prior position. "You may go now." She did not even look at him, instead finishing what she had been writing into her journal. She then picked up one of the knives, holding it in one hand while she rested her middle finger towards the top of its length. She closed her eyes, opening her mouth to begin an incantation.

"Um, that's just it," he began, leaning down to grasp at his pants. Her mouth remained open, that tinge of annoyed frustration set in her cheeks and jaw as her eyes opened back up. "I was coming in to ask for directions to the administration's office." He began to loop his belt back through the buckle, locking it and his pants back into place.

"Oh," she said softly, her eyes glancing to the side, as if it only now occurred to her that he had entered with his own purpose in mind. She cleared her throat, lowering the knife onto the table. "My apologies," she nodded, "head down the stairs, but do not take the exit towards the courtyard. There is a doorway opposite, far smaller, that leads to a back path. If you make a right you will pass by two other buildings before it leads directly into another. That is the building you wish to find."

"Thank you," Elmer nodded. He continued to stand there, feeling as if there should be something... more said, but she merely picked the knife back up, closing her eyes, settling her finger back to the top of the blade. "I um... have a good night," he nodded. Her eyes opened briefly, giving a nod back, but she paid no mind otherwise. As he stepped out of the room he heard her speak several words of an ancient tongue, but she soon faded into silence as he approached the stairwell. The last he had heard of her was a triumphant squeal of delight, her magical experiment clearly a success.

~~~

This is a potential opening prologue for an adventure in the academic school in the Dungeon City setting, which is open for private, one-on-one roleplays or for free-use in the fantasy portion of the Hentai World Roleplay group. I would not mind playing this and other characters in this academy setting. You may decide if you'd like to play as the Elvish blonde, or you may play other characters. Ideally, we'd each have multiples. This would be somewhat slice-of-life. If interested, feel free to send me an EcchiText.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

THE... KIDNAPPING?

The moon shone bright in the night sky, glimmering with stars like a collection of diamonds in a thief's knapsack. At the moment, however, Piter's knapsack was filled with thieving tools. His target was inside the tower facing the lake, whose waters supplied the moat surrounding the castle. Running his gloved fingers through the midnight blue locks of hair, sitting upon the sturdiest branch of the tallest tree he could find, he let out a heavy sigh. Piter was having second thoughts. No, actually, Piter already had second thoughts when he was first given this job. Piter then had third thoughts when he and his crew made their way to recon the castle and observe its patrols. He then had fourth thoughts upon going to sleep, fifth thoughts upon waking up, and, now, was onto his sixth thoughts.

Still, it was late at night, midway through second watch, the guard having been lessened from the initial patrol on the lookout. It was this hour that most of the guards were most sleepy, and therefore easiest to sneak past. Yet this rickety crossbow with its trick bolt didn't instill Piter with the greatest confidence. Letting out a heavy sigh, he hoisted the heavy wooden frame up, pressing the stock to his shoulder, and took aim. He prayed to whatever divine being blessed thieves, pulled the trigger, and felt the sturdy bolt kick back as it flew through the air, a discharge of air and steam hissing as the gears in the crossbow snapped and spun. He watched as the bolt sailed through the air, the rope attached whirling through the sky, barely visible even with the moonlight beaming down brightly, reflected in the rippling waves of the lake and moat of the castle. He watched the bolt descend over the rampart and the rope slacken. If it worked as intended, then the second the bolt made impact its tip split into a four-pronged hook. He gently pulled the rope, knowing that it'd be scraping against the stone walkway, until finally he could pull no more. Excellent, it split as it should, hooked now to the parapet. He tied the rope off around the tree upon which he was perched, testing that it was taut, and took a deep breath.

Minutes later, panting heavily and his arms burning, Piter pulled himself up and over the parapet, glad that the bolt and rope held. He looked along the walkway, making sure no guard were present, before lifting the bolt from its place and letting it drop towards the moat below. He took a brief moment to remove the heavy packs upon his back, shrugging his aching shoulders and cracking his sore back, the weight of its contents making the hand-over-hand traversal along the rope no easier. However, the pack was the best solution he and his companions could think of to exit out of the castle. Despite the slacking guard, his mission could last long enough that a patrol would cross this walkway. He just hoped Verne was keeping watch, and also doing his part to reel the rope and bolt in so it wouldn't be visible.

Taking a deep breath, Piter crouched and began to move along the walkway, knowing he could traverse around the castle and its courtyard for at least party of the way before having to take an even worse risk. He approached the first tower, pressing his ear to the wooden door frame. As desired, the rumbling snores of the guard inside were so loud he could hear them from his position. Quietly, he opened the door, flinching at every slight creak, and slipped through. During their recon he and his crew noticed that this particular guard was always sleeping on the job, regularly lectured by his third watch replacement. He was rather portly for an elf, and given the shimmering grease about his cheeks and chin he was struck by the desire to nap from copious digestion of meat, ale, and bread. Good fortune for Piter, as it allowed him to sneak in one door and out the other, continuing his journey along the walkway. Of course, there was a patrol along this next one, but the elvish guard here was young, clearly bored, slumped over the parapet and staring sleepily into the lake. With cat-like grace and holding his breath, Piter slowly, softly, slipped behind the oblivious patrolman. He did not head to the next tower, however. It would be unoccupied at the moment, but the guards stationed there and the wall beyond did their due diligence. So, Piter leaned back against the wall and peered over towards the stair leading down into the inner courtyard.

This should have been a more deserted portion of the courtyard, filled with decorative shrub and bush and a walkway towards the interior, a door that would lead to his next destination. However, a guard lingered below. Why? What purpose did he have there? His heartbeat increasing, Piter glanced to the sleepy guard against the parapet and back down to the one lingering below, trying to plot out an improvised step to continue the mission... or a path of escape. However, slipping from the door that was his goal, a young elvish maid stepped from the walkway and through the brush, hidden in the shadow provided by the bushes as she immediately embraced the guard. Piter watched as the guard dropped his weapon, hands around the young woman (well, by elvish years), taking several steps backwards before tumbling to the ground. Licking his lips, he watched the two kiss, embrace, struggle to disrobe, and finally the guard flip himself over, pressing the maid stomach first to the ground, her rear pressed upwards. Perfect, neither would be facing the stairs. He slowly made his way down as restrained grunts and whimpers and gasps filled the air, the guard rutting into the maid as the two shared a passionate escape from their duties. Piter had heard that elves were particularly hormonal during a certain age. Perhaps these two were at that time of their lives?

As he made his way into the castle interior he found they were not the only ones. Rounding a corner he nearly walked into the backside of a man, an official of some sort, pinning an elvish scullion back against the wall, on her knees, her mouth slobbering all over his length. Once more Piter was blessed by their eyes being diverted and distracting themselves, but just as he had managed to find the storage room he had been seeking, about to open its window, he heard a scuffling outside. Diving behind a box to hide, the door burst open, and he had to sit through several minutes of another guard and maid engaging in coitus, only they didn't try to keep so quiet. He repressed a groan and ran his fingers through his hair as they lingered too long with kisses and coos to one another before finally making their way back out of the storage. He'd have found it erotic, had he not been on a mission. Still, it seemed the rumors were true: elves fucked like rabbits.

The next step was the worst. He opened the window, leaned out to glance up the side, and confirmed his destination. With the lake water beneath him, up above was the second tallest tower, and chamber of the princess promised to be wed on the morrow. She had a piece of jewelry that was necessary for her marriage, or so he was told, and therefore it'd fetch quite the price. So, he equipped his hands and legs with claws intended for climbing, just one of the many pieces of equipment in his pack, and tested them against the stone wall to see if they would work. It seemed so, and thus began to hoist himself up from the window and, one claw at a time, climb up the side of the tower, where no guard would be able to spot him. Verne, hopefully, was still watching, from the far end of the lake now, though he wouldn't have been able to do much if Piter fell.

It was the worst climb of his life. Piter had used these hooks before, but not on a castle wall. He often feared they'd find no purchase, or would slip and leave him dropping into the water below. His forehead began to sweat, and his clothes became uncomfortable with his perspiration. The cool air was a brief blessing, though it contrasted with the heat coming off of his body. He tried to remain silent, but soon was grunting with each lifting of an arm. His shoulders and biceps burned, his legs yearned to simply fall off his body, and the pack, with its last, vital item necessary for his escape, was like a gremlin eager to yank him free of the wall and into the water below.

Yet he had finally made it. He reached the large glass window to the princess' chamber, though it was momentarily shut. Not a problem, of course. Shaking, he carefully removed one hand from the wall, reaching for his belt and retrieving his dagger. Slipping it silently between the panes, he slid it up, flipping the latch, and then pressing the handle to the side so it would pry the window open. It swung silently ajar, allowing him to open the other, hoisting himself up, over and...

"OOF!"

Piter miscalculated. He was more exhausted than he thought. He tried to lift his leg but it only came partway. His arms had pulled him forward enough that gravity had taken over. He tumbled, rolling on the floor, unable to help from groaning as he tried to sit up, every muscle in his body screaming at him for not just lying down and resting. Panting, he opened his eyes, hoping not to have woken the princess up.

His eyes immediately widened as he found the end of a blade pointing directly towards his face. His eyes followed up the sword to see glimmering golden eyes looking back down at him, a regal expression worn upon the golden-haired beauty wielding the weapon. Though she clutched a sheet over her naked form, some of her curvaceous flesh available for him to witness, she held the poise of a noble born woman.

All Piter could do was swallow.

~~~

This is an opening prologue for my "kidnapped" princess plot as found in my story ideas thread. If you'd like to play the role of the princess, feel free to send me a message.

Edited December 12, 2023 by Minorikawa

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

This isn't really intended to be an RP prologue. I was inspired at the last minute for the Tell Me a Story Christmas challenge, but the deadline had passed. D'oh! So, I've decided to jot it down here just to get it outta my head. Happy holidays everyone!

HIS GREATEST CHRISTMAS GIFT

A creature was stirring, bigger than a mouse. Parker's eyes opened, aware of how deep into the night it was. He had been sleeping, awoken from slumber by that sudden awareness that something was off. What sounded like soft, careful footsteps traveled down the hallway of his apartment and into his bedroom, the corridor faintly lit in the red, blue, and green of Christmas lights.

Only Parker didn't decorate. He had no lights, no stockings, no tree, no nothing as he lived alone. A man in his mid-thirties, he had intentionally moved hundreds of miles away to keep them as far as possible. Yet this move did not coincide with establishing a family of his own. No, he was not a man capable of establishing many relationships. It wasn't a lack of charisma, for he possessed enough to make even strangers laugh. Perhaps it was the inevitability that, whenever he discussed his passions, the woman's eyes glazed over and she became bored. It was as if he were born and raised to be alone, to be nothing more than that "really nice guy", to be told that there's someone out there for him. Yet there was no one out there for him, and knew there never would be.

Which is why Parker never decorated for Christmas, and why he not only knew someone had broken into his apartment, but had... done... something.

Running a hand through sandpaper colored hair, ignoring the brief itch in his beard, he slowly slipped his legs from the bed and rose, doing his best to suppress any creak from the mattress, to catch the infiltrator unaware. He was not in possession of any weapons, was not the sort to own a firearm, forced to rely on his own hands should it come to self-defense. One foot in front of the other, feeling as if he were taking house just to creep down his own hall, he began to hear a light jingling of a bell with the footsteps, and a soft, feminine humming to the tune of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus". His bare feet softly padding against the hardwood floor, he pressed his back against the wall and peeked around the corner.

There was his living room, alright, with his couch facing a large 4K television on a media stand with a nice sound system attached. Those were what he expected to see. Yet so much of the empty space was suddenly taken up by a tree, gorgeously lit with a glowing star up top. There were a few wrapped presents placed beneath it, but the most jarring spectacle of all was the young woman facing the tree. She looked to be his intruder, long, wavy black hair descending down her back, seemingly fake elf ears popping out the sides of her hair with a pointed green hat atop her head. A green mini-dress adorned her frame, closing in at the waist and flaring at the hips. Though she wore green heeled boots, the cause of the audible footsteps against the hardwood floor, she would stand on her toes to hang ornaments higher on the tree, allowing the skirt to lift and grant him a peek at her curvaceous, rounded cheeks. With one last ornament placed she took a step back, hands on her hips, and nodded with a satisfied sigh.

"What do you think?" she suddenly asked. "Far more cheerful, hm?" Parker pondered for a brief moment if she had an accomplice, but such questions were quickly dashed as she spun around and faced him directly, an infections smile spread wide across her gorgeous face. He could see that her curvaceous figure wasn't limited to her posterior, as her bust was also generous, the collar unbuttoned down far enough that he could see the creamy globes pressed together, packed into her top as if fit into an outfit two sizes too small. Yet the glow from her expression defied any theory of discomfort on her part.

"Who are you?" he asked, still clinging to the wall as if in hiding. He wore nothing more than a white t-shirt and boxer shorts himself, yet that was the last thing on his mind. She simply shrugged, the smile never dissipating from her red-painted lips.

"Clara the Christmas Elf," she said. "Not that you'll believe me, of course. After all, you stopped believing in Santa long, long ago." She turned once more, as if to examine her work. Taking a few steps in her heels, almost the walk of a supermodel down the runway, she bent over towards one of the presents and revealed that "Christmas elves" evidently do not wear undergarments. He swallowed, unable to keep his eyes off despite wanting to. This all felt so bizarre. "Once young children stop believing in Santa, he stops visiting them. Or, perhaps more accurately, he can't visit them." She sighed, tightening the bow on one of the gifts before sitting upright.

Parker's eyes glanced at the door into his apartment. The lock was not busted. In fact, everything looked to be as he had left it. "How'd you get in here?" he asked, finally stepping from the wall. Clara spun around, opening her mouth to respond, only to pause with her eyes widening slightly, a hand waving as if to chase off the vapors.

"My, my, you really are quite handsome and built," she said with glee, ignoring the question. Instead, she turned her eyes up towards his, strode confidently towards him, one foot in front of the other as her heels clicked on the floor, only to suddenly manifest a small plant from within her bare hand. It was a mistletoe. "Magic, my darling Parker," she said softly. Holding the mistletoe above his head, her other hand grasped his t-shirt, pulled him close, and planted her lips right onto his. She immediately moaned into it, her tongue slipping into his mouth, her breasts crushing flat against his chest. He, however, was startled, though simultaneously aroused. Before his boxers could betray him he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away, a string of saliva keeping them connected for but a moment. Before she could retort or object, his fingers reached for those pointed ears, gripped and pulled.

"OW OW OW OW OW!" she shrieked, her face scrunching up in pain. He released, eyes wide, jaw slack. That wasn't plastic, nor was it foam. That... that felt like cartilage and flesh, and, most of all, they didn't come off. "Why would you just go ahead and grab someone's," she began, before gasping out an "oh!" as he more gently laid his fingers upon her ears. He didn't realize it at first, but every centimeter his fingers traveled caused her to tremble. Yet his eyes were looking for some indication that these were prosthetic, attached by some sort of adhesive, yet no movie effect prop were this convincing.

"Holy shit," he said softly, to which Clara put a finger on his lips.

"None of that naughtiness, my darling Parker," she said with a smirk. "Though I come to bring you quite the good naughtiness tonight." With that, she held the mistletoe up once more, her lips pressed tightly to his own, her body urging him backward, step after step, her breasts leaning into him as her tongue swirled his own. He stepped back, too dumbstruck to resist, until his calves came into contact with his couch. Clara broke the kiss as Parker fell back onto the sofa, and before he could do anything more she leaned forward, sliding a thigh to each side of him, straddling his lap while her fingers took the mistletoe and... hung it on thin air?

"You see, darling Parker," Clara groaned, beginning to grind her hips against his own, feeling her wet desire dampen his boxers, beginning to bulge with his own arousal. "Whatever magical forces even we elves do not understand that control Christmas cheer, they prevent Santa from visiting anyone who no longer believes in him." Her lips began to press against his cheek, then down his neck, soft whimpers as her hips ground more intently into the rigid shaft guarded by nothing more than his boxer shorts. "But, every so often, there are good, generous, kind adults such as yourself that are still living life alone, and, well..." She smirked, leaning forward, her tongue caressing along his ear lobe. "Let's just say," she whispered, her breath sending a shiver up his spine as his hands slid along her creamy thighs, "this is just your stocking present... your real gift is to come..."

Then, with a mischievous look in her eyes, Clara the Christmas elf leaned back, unfastening the last two buttons on her dress. It did not separate, but allowed her to peel the V-neck to her top down enough to release those heavy breasts one after the next, only for her hands to then grasp Parker's boxers, tugging them down, his hardened cock springing upwards and smacking against her bare sex. Grasping onto him, she settled herself onto his cock, mouth gaping and gasping as he filled her.

It felt like a dream, this Christmas elf riding his cock. It wasn't a fucking, it was what many imagined the term "making love" to be. His hands explored her body, grasped those breasts, his lips suckling on them as her hips ground on him, rotated, and rose and fell, the couch making light creaks. Yet never was it intense, never did she utter whorish, pornstar moans or gibberish dirty talk. It all felt like natural pleasure shared between two people. It felt like hours, yet it also felt like it was finished in minutes as his whole body stiffened, hips pumping upwards, releasing his creamy load into her. She hushed him, leaning forward, placing a kiss to his lips one more time. "Merry Christmas," she whispered as he fell into a deep slumber.

When he awoke, he sat in his living room, completely clothed, no sign of any Christmas elves, Christmas trees, or decoration. It was as he had left it.

It was just a dream.

~~~

Only one minute left until the new year. Parker sighed, nursing his whiskey, sitting in the crowded bar packed with couples of varying ages all excitedly preparing for the ball drop on the televisions. He had gone to the bar to feel as if he wasn't spending New Years alone, yet surrounded by so many that had friends, loved ones, arm in arm, he felt more isolated than ever.

"You alone, too?" a sweet, somewhat familiar voice asked beside his seat at the bar. He turned and almost jumped from his stool. Long, wavy black hair, a gorgeous face, and a shimmering green sweater that concealed a generous chest beneath, complete with a black skirt that flared at the hips and stiletto boots that clicked along the floor. "Name's Clara," she said, sitting beside him. "Just moved here, and..." she suddenly blushed, laughing nervously, turning her face away. "Nevermind, it's stupid."

"What?" Parker asked, unable to hold back his own smile. Her laughter was infectious. She shook her head, but sheepishly faced him.

"I just saw you sitting here alone, and since I have no one to kiss when the ball drops, and you have no one to kiss when the ball drops..." She blushed again, but suddenly went wide-eyed. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry! I just realized how this all sounds!" Her hands covered her face as she groaned to herself.

"Ten!" the crowd began to count.

"Nevermind," she uttered, turning from Parker.

"Nine!"

He reached out, taking her hand.

"Eight!"

Clara paused, looking down at his hand on hers.

"Seven!"

He turned in his stool, facing her.

"Six!"

Clara's eyes looked up to Parker's.

"Five!"

He tugged her hand, pulling her closer.

"Four!"

Clara stepped towards him, stilettos still audible even in the shouts of the crowd, eyes locked onto his.

"Three!"

Parker's hand rose to cup Clara's cheek.

"Two!"

Clara's hands began to climb up Parker's arms, feeling the muscles beneath his own sweatshirt.

"One!"

The two leaned forward, closing their eyes, parting their lips.

"Happy new year!"

Clara and Parker embraced, a kiss that felt so new, yet so familiar. Electricity coursed through the both of them as their lips locked, tongues intertwined, hands explored one another.

That night, Clara and Parker would return to his apartment. His mattress would creak, groan, and object to their animalistic love-making, their primal passions that didn't see them falling asleep until the sun was coming up. When they awoke, they grabbed noontime breakfast at the diner around the block from his place. Clara poked and prodded Parker to discuss the things he normally wouldn't, the things that made so many women's eyes glaze over. Hers did not. They shone, instead, entranced not by the subject matter, but by the passion that burned within this man.

They went back to his apartment and the mattress objected some more.

Next Christmas Eve, Parker stood in his living room, gazing at the tree, the presents underneath... it was the strangest Deja Vu. Yet he was dragged out of his reverie by Clara, wearing a green mini-dress with white trim, dangling Christmas Tree earrings, her fingernails painted red and white candy cane, holding a mistletoe above her head as she stepped forward, planting her lips to his, holding the plant above their heads, before shoving Parker back onto the couch, straddling his lap, and smiling mischievously.

It was all very familiar, but it didn't matter.

Parker and Clara would never spend a Christmas alone again.