Tales of TARABUL (series) [161213]

Contents                                        line    comments
Welcome to TARABUL								17		guidebook
CASE Spring Equinox								73		embassy document
Promise											112		prose: Ushi-Oni
Oubliette										152		prose: Matango
Elopement										190		prose: Girtablilu
CASE Archives									234		embassy document
Social Climber									295		prose: Fennec Kitsune
Wedding Night									341		prose: Fennec Kitsune
Social Descender								391		prose: (a different) Fennec Kitsune
Marriage										445		prose: Girtablilu
Insemination									485		prose: Girtablilu
Teacher's Victim								531		prose: Abomination					NEW

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	Welcome to TARABUL

	| Good luck for your new posting, J!  The Tarabul Embassy might not be a dream job, but it’s a springboard to the nicer countries. The standard factbook can be a little dry, and you might need a little personal experience, so I’ve made a few notes. - M.

1. Introduction
The Kingdom of Tarabul was established some 200 years ago after a 20-year campaign to unite four surrounding Oases by the Oasis of Gighti, the leading part of the union and the ancestral home of the ruling dynasty. The country’s current ruler, Sultan MANSUR, assumed the throne in 1264 following the death of his father, Sultan ASHRAF. Sultan MANSUR sees himself as an enlightened lawgiver and a man of great moral fortitude. He has implemented modest political and economic reforms – Tarabul boasts fair and free local elections, but the Sultan holds all real power.
	| The big guy’s wary of foreign influence. He thinks most foreign businessmen are suspicious, and to be frank he’s right. Be careful when dealing with foreign civilians. NEVER go into dark alleys with them.



2. Geography
CLIMATE	Tarabul is mostly arid desert plateau, but the most populous parts lie in the western highlands, with four oases and a network of small rivers. The mountains to the west form a rain shadow over the desert plains, and the surface waters run down from the mountains, disappearing into a salt lake at the foothills. Natural resources include phosphate, potash and shale oil. The population is concentrated in the relatively mild and wet highlands, with only nominal state control over the desert expanse.
	| Desert safaris are a popular pastime for foreign dignitaries, but they are extremely dangerous. Not for the married. Girtablilus and Sphrinxes, oh my!



3. Demographics
ETHNIC GROUPS	 Desert Monster 24%, Human 68%, Other Monster 8%. Roughly 60% of the population is native, with significant numbers of immigrant Humans and Monsters present. Tarabul does not allow naturalization under normal circumstances.
	| Not under normal circumstances = only by marriage with children. It’s not that difficult for a Human man to find a wife around here, if you like a bit of mocha. I hear it’s the biggest source of attrition with the local militias – a goober of a tourist commits some little misdemeanor, gets an offer he doesn’t want to refuse, and boom, another married couple and one less constable. I guess technically some local boy could marry a foreign Monster or even a Human girl, too, but that's much less common.

RELIGION	Native Tarabulians almost exclusively belong to the Dar-al-Moo, and Tarabulian society is organized accordingly. The entire nation halts to observe prayer three times every day, at dawn, at noon, and at dusk. As their religion demands that married couples meet each other for the prayer, most couples work together. The religion allows marriage at age 10, although only between individuals of similar physical and psychological maturity. Child marriages are common, although Tarabulian officials deny that any of them are forced.
	| It is said that the Mooezzin’s cry is one of pleasure. Don’t even think about peeping, though, sacred places are well guarded. Anyway, the locals don’t think the child marriage thing is a problem, monogamy from playschool to grave is a cultural institution. Even if we managed to get the law changed, they’d most likely just marry their ‘childhood friends’ all the same, just at a later age.



4. Politics
GOVERNMENT	The capital of Tarabul is Gighti. Each oasis forms a subdivision, aptly names Oases, with the lowland desert forming a sixth administrative region. The Oases have a degree of local autonomy, and an assembly for each is formed by election. All citizens over the age of 10 have a vote, but traditional power structures ensure that the vast majority of seats go to old noble families. Humans are extremely underrepresented, despite citizen Humans forming a plurality in the nation. Roughly 80% of elected officials are Monsters, compared to a voting population that is 65% Human.
	| A lot of the Human males are married to Monsters. The running joke is that the husbands are all hen-pecked. There’s still some Human-Human couples that vote for the Monsters, though.

HUMAN RIGHTS	Tarabul is effectively an absolute monarchy. Sultan MANSUR has made no effort to modernize the judicial system, and punishments remain severe. Human rights organizations accuse the Royal House of outright torture – severe crimes of morality are punishable by death, and reports claim that a secret police enforces lèse-majesté with force.
	| For God’s sake, don’t make any racist jokes about the Anubis! Last year one of our clerks got drunk in a dive bar and blabbed about stuffing Lego’s up the Queen’s ass, and we got him back two weeks later with talon marks all over his dick. Don’t be that guy!

ROYAL HOUSE	Sultan MANSUR is married to Queen ZAINA, an Anubis. The pair is as of yet childless, and the Sultan is not known to have any concubines. The Queen has a great influence on the treasury of the nation. After Sultan MANSUR’s accession, Tarabul has begun construction of a number of public works, as well as modern hotels and museums.
	| The big guy’s crazy for his wife. He sometimes even holds court while playing with her paw. It’s a public secret that Zaina’s the one behind all the construction, and she holds a degree in Architecture. Seriously though, don’t make any Lego jokes.

LAW ENFORCEMENT	The Royal House is served by a dedicated secret police, the Falcons. They consist of various Bird-of-prey Girls and enforce the Sultan’s will. Local assemblies maintain their own police forces and informants, organized more like a militia than a modern police force. Local militias mostly take the role of secular police, leaving the religious crackdowns to the Falcons.
	| Just wait 'till you see those brown Kikimoras with the jackboots and the breastplates and the riding crops, yeow! No wonder a lot of guys marry one instead of taking a littering fine. Just remember: The Falcons mean business. I’ve had to watch a number of executions of our citizens over the years. The Sultan is particularly disdainful of rape and adultery, especially both combined. He will release the condemned into the desert, promising them amnesty and freedom if they make it a set distance. They never do. The Falcons swoop down on them, knock them down on the burning sand, and then start clawing at them. The birds CBT the poor fuckers to death right there on the dunes. You never forget the sight and sound of an obese man bleeding to death from his genitals. The trial field is littered with the dried-up corpses of sex offenders of all stripes. Oh, and as the new junior attaché YOU get to be the one present every time one of our idiots gets the works!

MIGRATION	As naturalization is dependant on a strict conditions, most permanent immigrants have a family visa. Non-married immigrants often work in menial labor. Locals often suspect foreign Monsters of involvement in underground prostitution. Many emigrants are political dissidents.
	| Really, most emigrants are 'sexual minorities', and not in the usual sense. It's not strictly illegal to fuck around as long as you fuck other singles, even with the morality police marching down every street with their hobnails cracking, but it WILL make you into persona non grata. People who don't want the Moo-ist ideal of hugs and kisses three times a day usually end up packing their bags sooner or later. Mind you, there's no ban on kinky shit either, not even informally, they're just really angry about rape and adultery.



5. Economy
EXPORTS	Tarabul’s export economy is mostly based around certain prestige exports, such as Barometz Juice, the feathers of various Avian Monsters, and Monster hair textiles. In addition, there is some resource extraction, but local customs forbid large-scale mining and oil drilling. Attempts at drilling in the Desert region have met with uneven success, as the local Monsters – few and far between as they are – are even less fond of foreign companies, and much less civil. A third source of foreign income is tourism. Tarabul remains a traditional, low income country that is mostly self-sufficient.
	| Who cares about this bullshit? Seriously, never had to deal with it.

TOURISM	The tourism industry has grown significantly under Sultan MANSUR – from zero, that is. Many major Monster nations depend on either overt or covert sex trade, but the Sultan’s famous distaste for immorality hampers efforts in Tarabul. Tarabul bathhouses may be operated by Lava Elementals, but many visitors are surprised and disappointed to find that the lava baths don’t come with a happy end. Official travel guides list mostly cultural and historical sites.
	| Pretty much all hookers around Gighti are foreigners. Don’t ask me how I know. Hint: it's literally underground. Although a LOT of foreign businessmen try to solicit the naïve local girls, only to have the Falcons bust in on them the moment they get into a hotel room. Bad idea.





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	CASE Spring Equinox

	| Heads up, J! I bet you heard rumors about that big arrest a couple of weeks back? Turns out it was one of our idiots AGAIN! Get a nice sombrero, Jr. Attachè, this is gonna be a long one. Nice first assignment you got here. -Q.

C O N F I D E N T I A L
SECTION 01 OF 01 GIGHTI 710405TRBGGH
EMBASSY INTERNAL
SUBJECT: (R) FALCON OPERATIONAL ALERT (TRBF-00064)
This report is in response to information about an ongoing investigation leaked from the TARABUL SECRET POLICE. Connections are largely based on information from operational contacts.



Sources indicate that a recent investigation into an attempted drugging at the ROYAL SPRING EQUINOX BALL has implicated Mr. █. ██████, CEO of ████████ FILM CORPORATION as main suspect.
	| ‘Investigation has implicated’ = he got caught in the act

As Mr. ██████ is a citizen of our nation, as well as a known associate of several Members of Parliament, his arrest and possible sentence would reflect poorly on our standing in the view of the TARABUL Royal House. His expected sentence is also expected to sour the public image of TARABUL with our home audience.
	| His expected sentence = impaled at the National Square, not even kidding here

Mr. ██████ was reportedly apprehended during the ball by members of the Royal Guard, holding a small, empty container of Alraune Nectar extract, and traces of AN extract were found in the goblet of Princess HAFSA, who Mr. ██████ had recently engaged in small talk with.
	| Hafsa is the Queen’s niece. Big shit.

According to interrogation, Mr. ██████ had intended to drug Princess HAFSA in order to take advantage of her sexually. Mr. ██████ has reportedly confessed to this. A trial can be expected, but as Sultan MANSUR holds supreme judicial power, the trial cannot in any way be expected to be fair.
	| I heard they beat him black and blue on the spot and kept going at the dungeons.

Due to the diplomatic cost to a citizen of high status facing a public execution, it is suggested that an attempt be made to dissuade Sultan MANSUR from proceeding as planned. PRIMARY OBJECTIVE is to prevent a public execution, SECONDARY OBJECTICE is to dissuade Sultan MANSUR from executing him, TERTIARY OBJECTIVE is to persuade Sultan MANSUR to allow Mr. ██████’s extradition to a domestic prison.H███
	| And that’s where you come in, J. Meet with the Sultan after public court today and do whatever you can to keep the egg off our collective face. You have authority to give minor concessions for this case.



	| Well, I don’t know if the guys upstairs will be happy, but he won’t get impaled on live TV. The Sultan has agreed to sentence ██████ to life in an oubliette in exchange for military advisors and access to export models of some choice military hardware. He’s waiting for them to confirm the deal within three days, or ██████ gets it all the way through.

There’s something I don’t like about this, though… The Falcons guarding the Sultan seemed to suppress a giggle as he mentioned the oubliette. There’s something fishy about this, and I’m not sure ██████ ended up winning in this deal. Something’s going to be with him down there, something that likes the damp, the cold, and the darkness. -J.





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	Promise

Legs skitter on dusty flagstones as a figure clad in brilliant white advances through the leatherworkers' district at a stately pace. Lightweight, almost translucent, tightly cut white fabric clings to large breasts that ever-so-slightly jiggle as the young woman moves. Long, loose sleeves hide her arms, folded at her abdomen. A white scarf is wrapped around her head and shoulders, leaving her face in the shadow. Her grayish face appears serene, but inside her heart beats faster than ever before.  Behind her white-clad torso an arachnid abdomen and a mass of legs covered in dark, almost black fur glimmers in the burning sun.

Two gendarmes follow in her footsteps, their polished breastplates shining like mirrors, their wrist feathers softly swaying in the still air even as their knee-high boots seem to gather all the dust in the street. They seem visibly annoyed - their faces betray the intense discomfort of marching in the burning Tarabul sun. Finally they reach their destination - the Kikimoras burst into a cobbler's workshop and take position to either side of the surprised young man working inside. Moments later she floats into the room with all the drama and gravitas she can muster. "Abdul." She pauses for effect, her face hidden in the shadow, as the young man nods and swallows heavily. She throws her scarf back to reveal her face, framed by large horns and long ears. "It is time to honor your promise."



Years before, a young Ushi-Oni and a boy sat on a local school roof. They had just finished their lunch as a Mooezzin's cry rang through the hot air. "I wonder if they only let pretty girls be Mooezzins...?" The boy wondered aloud as the girl's hair fluttered in the slight breeze. "W-why do you ask?" She looked at him with somehow hopeful eyes. "All the Mooezzins are so beautiful... I want to marry one when I grow up!" Her face darkened. "What?!" How could he talk about marrying someone else? Weren't they childhood friends? "Are you fine with anyone as long as she's a Mooezzin!?" Tears welled in her eyes as she imagined him with some Holstaur floozy. "W-will you marry me if I become a Mooezzin...?" Her voice trembled as it trailed off.

The boy, insensitive with youth, laughed at her. "But Amira, there's never been an Ushi Mooezzin! Don't be silly!" Her anger grew as he giggled at her love. "There will! I'll become the first and then you'll marry me!" The trembles of pain slowly turned into a shaking rage. The boy was still laughing, leaning over the edge of the roof. "Sure, sure! I'll marry you if you become a Mooezzin, Ammy!" She rose to her legs in an instant, her voice trembling with an ice-cold edge. "It's a promise, Abdul." She stormed off, jumping down from the roof before skittering into an alley and out of sight. "...Ammy? Ammy! W-where are you going...?! Come back!" That had been the last time Abdul had seen his childhood friend. Even her family had moved away overnight. He had cried for her for a few years, but with every passing year the pain became more and more dull. By the time he was an adult she was just another nostalgic memory.



Abdul falls to his knees in front of her. "A-ammy...?" He paws at her abdomen and arms as if trying to grasp an illusion. He seems almost surprised when his hands connect with her body. "Ammy! You came back to me...!" He breaks down in tears, arms wrapped around her abdomen, as the memories flood back to him. Amira slowly pulls her pedipalps out from under her white dress and lifts him by the hips. Her face twitches as she desperately fights to keep up the serene mask. She takes the profusely crying young man into a four-limb hug as she slowly turns around and walks out to the street.

His tears have barely dried as they arrive at the Moonaret. Amira crashes through the doors, smashing the thin wooden construction to shreds before making a furious dash up the winding stairs. "Ammy... Ammy, I'm so sorry! I thought I'd never see you again!" Abdul howls at her as they barrel up the stairs like shot out of a gun. With every sound he makes, her grasp grows tighter and tighter. Finally he whispers in her ear - "I... I always loved you. I would've married you no matter what..." - and almost passes out from the pressure.

Suddenly the gloom of the staircase gives way to the burning sun, and the pressure lets off. He falls backwards onto a soft bed. They are finally at the top of the tower, and high noon can't be more than minutes away. Amira's face blocks the sun, the brilliant light glimmering in her brown hair, her horns shimmering with reflections of the heavens. "Abdul, this is my first day at work! Quick, we can't be late!" He watches her lift her hem to reveal absolutely nothing under the uniform. She pulls his robes up to reveal his equal readiness for the act. Amira bends down to furiously kiss her childhood friend as the shadow on the sundial inexorably turns towards noon.



"MMMMOOOOOoooorgh~...!" Her scream rings as if to wake the dead. What begins as a clear, beautiful moo soon gives way to chittering undertones as the penis first caresses her lips before tearing through her hymen. It is done. Amira's arachnid abdomen straddles the bed as her humanoid upper body presses onto Abdul. She pauses to catch her breath after doing her duty, still reeling from her first penetration. Her large, fluffy paws pin his arms above their heads, her breasts strain upon the white cotton as they knead onto his chest with every breath, her soft hair caresses his face as her left horn presses into his temple. High up in the air a soft breeze, unheard of on the street level, cools the air even as Amira's hot, wet breath steams into hin ear.

Slowly Amira begins to move her massive body on top of him. She pulls her paws down to caress his head and shoulders as she resumes the kiss. He does the same, wrapping his arms around her head, stroking her head through her long hair. Her body rocks back and forth on him, held in the air at the hips by her numerous legs while her chest leans onto Abdul like a human embrace. She moans softly as she grinds herself into him under the open sky. Slowly she loses her composure, her movement becoming more and more vertical until she breaks the kiss, her face twisted with lust.

She pulls him up from the bed with her pedipalps and all pretension of human intercourse is lost. Her fuzzy pedipalps wrapped around his hips, she swings his hips back and forth in the air, forcing him in and out of her like a dildo. She hugs him tight, their arms wrapped around one another and their heads over eact other's houlders, and gives out low, chittering moans with every thrust. Her pace slowly picks up even more until she fucks herself like an animal with his ragdoll-like body. Finally she lets out a loud chitter as her insides twitch furiously enough to bring him over the edge. Amira barely brings herself to let out the moo signalling the end of the noon prayer before collapsing onto the bed with Abdul.



A hour later she carefully carries him down the narrow stairs, no longer aided by her mating fury. Abdul hangs in her arms, his wrapped around her neck. She quietly speaks: "Ammy... Did we... Did we sin, Ammy? That was fornication, wasn't it? I mean, we aren't married yet!" Amira skitters out of the staircase and down into her living quarters. She smiles mischievously at him. "But we are! I'm a Mooezzin, remember? I married us the moment you admitted you've always loved me~ That was our wedding night~" She gives him a soft peck on the lips as she lets him down onto the floor.

Over the next week the cobbler shop is moved into an annex of the Moonaret. Amira is kept busy during working hours by an influx of more monstrous girls eager to have a Mooezzin they can identify with - it seems like there's a marriage at her Moonaret almost every day.





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	Oubliette

A heavy iron door creaked as it turned on barely-oiled hinges. A tall man, hied arms chained behind his back, was led along twisting and turning damp, drystone corridors by two slender women, clad in steel brestplates and black leather boots. The man mumbled as they walked, and occasionally raised his voice enough to be heard by his captors over the crack of their boots on the stone: "So what if I drugged her! You monsters are all cocksluts! She would have loved it! ...Ugh!" His tirade was cut short by a heavy flashlight rammed into his throat.

The man coughed and hacked as they descended steep, moist stairs. The air grew more oppressive with every step, until the trio reached another door, this one wooden, and crumbling with mold. Parts of it crumbled and fell to the floor as it swung open. Inside was a round chamber, like a halved globe with a flat floor - the only distinguishing feature was a small hole in the middle. The man realized it was the end of the line and was instantly filled with desperation. "Listen! Listen, girls! I'm a rich man! Just let me go and I'll pay you!" This time he was kicked in the kneepits, forcing him to the floor.

"No! Please! Wait! You're virgins, right? I can hook you up with hunks! So many hunks! Just st-" His cries from the floor turned into grunts on pain as the two guards kicked him in the kidneys almost simultaneously. The took him by the arms, their wrist feathers gently caressing his skin, and pulled him towards the pit. "Wait," one of them called out, "feet first. He might crack his skull and die." The other guard cooed in realization. The man was flipped on the floor and slowly pushed into the hole, now feet first. The lights of the guards grew faint and disappeared as he slid down a steep ramp of stone.



Soft, squishy matter broke the prisoner's fall. The smell of mold filled his nostrils as he lay on the floor. The chamber was ever-so-slightly lit by spots of faint blue bioluminescence in the walls. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realized that the entire floor and walls were covered in grey, pulsating, organic matter. Vague protrusions peppered the walls and the floor - he had even landed on one. There was no obvious way to escape. He sat up, still reeling from the beatings over the last week.

Slowly he rose to his feet - to look for a way out. There had to be some way to escape. He wouldn't starve in this hellhole, he was an important man! There was none. The pulsating, faintly glowing mass covered every stone of the chamber. He absent-mindedly kicket one of the protrusions on the floor as he paced around, thinking furiously. Some of the mass fell away to reveal a human skull. Shivers ran down his spine as he knelt to investigate. He pulled and prodded at the mass to reveal an entire skeleton, fully encased in a web-like mass.

The prisoner fell backwards in panic. Suddenly he realized that some of the protrusions seemed to faintly pulse back and forth - exactly where their hips might be. He was horrified by the thought, to be encased by this... Thing? Why were they moving? Were they alive? He panicked, ran over to the hole he had falled in from, and tried his best to scamper up. Of course, it was impossible. He barely managed to get his feet into the hole before he slipped on the moist stone and fell back in. His body thumped onto the encased body at the mouth of the hole, and his head fell back. His head upside down, he noticed something new - a young girl huddled in a small niche in the cavern.



The prisoner scrambled to his feet and strode to the girl, roughly pulling her out by the arm. She seemed to be in her mid-teens, clad in the same rags as he was, with dirty, shoulder-length black hair. "Haa... You're a prisoner too, little girl? What did you do, huh?" He tossed her onto the floor. She huddled herself into a fetal position as he menaced over her. "Not telling, huh? You're a bad girl! I'll have to punish you..." He knelt next to her and pulled her rags up to reveal slightly curving hips and a flat stomach. His erection was plainly visible through his own rags.

He wrestled her to her back on the floor, easily overpowering her fragile form. He roughly rubbed her small breasts under the rags as he positioned himself to violate her. With a violent thrust he struck his hips all the way into hers, gleefully ripping through the dry web-like membrane at her mouth as he went. He leered and drooled, gleefully watching the girl squirm under her as he brutally penetrated her again and again, his hands digging into her abdomen just above her hips. His pace grew more rapid with every thrust, his hands bruising her more with every passing second.

Finally the rape reached a groaning crescendo as he shot his seed into her innocent depths. He collapsed onto her and brushed her hair aside to reveal eyes glowing with the same blue luminescence as the walls. The prisoner's blood ran cold at the sight. He tried to push himself off her, only to find that a webbed mass had enveloped his hips. A sickly sweet voice rang inside his head: "Don't try to run away darling, we shall always be together..." He tried to hit her, but to no effect. His blows were dissipated by the soft springiness of her slender body.



   *   *   *

A formless clump lies on the floor of a chamber covered in fungus. What used to be human hips thrust away into the floor, encased in the webbed mass. At one end, human hands can be faintly seen through the fungal growth, interlocked with smaller protrusions, a mockery of human fingers in themselves. A human head, partially visible, rests on a fungal approximation of a beautiful woman's face - her eyes casting their part into the faint blue glow into the chamber as her fake lips knead the man's. His eyes are empty, and tendrils of fungus slowly grow over them to cover him entirely.

Suddenly the peace of the chamber is interrupted when a fat man with indistinct features falls through the damp, stone chute. He lies on the soft matting, groaning. Eventually be finds his feet and begins his search for escape - an important man like him will not die like a rat underground...





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	Elopement

Burning sun, burning sand. I met her again behind the black rocks, a forbidden, dangerous area between our villages. "Sadiq!" She skittered to me, almost pushing me over, barely held up by her arms and pedipalps warpping around me. Her sun-hot chitin wrapped around my waist as her soft arms enveloped my chest. Her voice sounded desperate as she continued: "Sadiq! They know! We have to run away right now if we want to be together!" My blood ran cold. "What? But... We don't have any supplies! We'll die in the desert!" Yarah squeezed me harder than ever before. "I'll carry you if I have to! Please, let's go at once!"

So we did. Yarah wrapped her arms and pedipalps around me and held me tight to her bosom. My legs wrapped around her butt, behind her pedipalps, my arms across her back, combining with her determined grasp to lock me under her. "Listen... I have to sting you, alright? You'll fall if I don't." I swallowed. It would be my first experience with Girtablilu venom - the part where I'd be paralysed was an obvious plus, but... Usually they only sting their husband, and the venom doubles as a potent aphrodisiac. "I understand. Do it, and hurry to Gighti."

Her stinger strained to reach me, under her as I was. I felt her tip on my neck, hesitating, and I whispered the only thing I wanted to say: "I love you..." Suddenly her stinger pierced my flesh, pumping a burning venom into my circulation. I barely had the time to in pain before I went as rigid as a rock. Yarah gently squeezed me again and skittered into the burning sands. My face, buried in her chest, flushed with blood both from her soft touch and the venom coursing through my veins. I could feel my erection beginning to press on her caparace, teasing me with her every step.



The way to Gighti was nightmarish - she skittered as fast as she could across the sand, but the way was long. She had to inject me with more venom several times a day to keep me rigid, both my muscles as my penis. I felt my sanity slowly be eaten away by the sweat from her breasts flowing into my mouth and my penis rubbing on her hard caparace, unable to reach orgasm. Yarah ran, or staggered, through the desert for two days without rest, holding onto me all the while. Finally we could hear the screams of oasis-going birds. Safety.

Yarah skittered into a decrepit building on the edge of town. She pried me off her, kissed me, and set me down on the earthen floor. "Please be safe, I have to find water for you." I could not answer, seeing as how I was paralyzed at the time. So, she skittered off, delirious, in search of supplies. I lay on the dusty floor staring at the ceiling, waiting for her to return for what seemed like an eternity. Slowly the venom began to wear off, allowing me to crawl into a corner and sit myself up. The Capital... We had dreamed of living here so often for all those years.

Finally Yarah returned with a half-filled, half-broken amphora of sandy water. I couldn't wait for it to settle, I had to drink at once. The disgusting taste and feel in my mouth I could ignore, the thirst not. I knew to drink slowly, and finally I had swallowed all of it. Yarah seemed to fidget. I knew exacly what was up. I grasped her by the pedipalps. Her cheeks flushed as she allowed me to lead her to the dried-out remains of a bed. She seemed to almost quiver as I sat down on the bed. "Yarah, you know I've always loved you. Marry me!"



The words had barely left my lips when her stinger snapped like a snake, striking and penetrating my chest. Her venom flowed directly into my heart as she gently lowered me onto my back. "I will! I love you so much~!" Her face contorted into a terrifying mask of lust - she somehow seemed more beautiful than ever before. She breathed heavily as she undressed me. Her huge body settled down below the bed, positioning her head to my crotch. My turgid, venom-strengthened erection throbbed in the hot, dry air. She slowly blew onto it.

A hot, wet tongue ran up my shaft and perineum. As it reached the tip, her lips pecked and teased at the perineum. My penis twitched, even through my paralysis, at her touch. Her lips, once denied to me by village politics, wrapped around my entire head and began to slowly descend. Her tongue slid down my shaft as her head craned down at me. The denial of the last days, combined with my lust and the venom proved too much and I shot my seed deep into her throat before her lips touched my base.

"Oh, Sadiq~, you can keep going, can't you~?" Her voice dripped with lust, and yet somehow there was a tang of malice. I felt myself slowly soften after the orgasm. "Oh my~ We can't have that, dar-ling~!" With the final syllable, her stinger penetrated my shaft. More venom flowed directly into my penis, hardening it in an instant. Yarah cackled at the sight before she again slowly wrapped her lips all over my head. This time she rammed her skull into my hips. I tried to scream with pleasure, but the paralysis kept me silent.



Yarah pumped her throat up and down on my head with short strokes like a piston, massaging it with her warm flesh. In my head I screamed in pleasure, but the only sounds to be heard were the wet slurps ringing from her mouth. Moist gurgles, faint slaps of lips on skin, the sounds filled my consciousness as I watched her hair bob back and forth on my member. Soon the pleasure again grew too great, and I let another load into her eager mouth. She rose from the bed, loudly rolling the semen in her mouth.

She churned her tongue in her mouth, spreading the semen all over her tongue and gums. She opened her mouth to show me a tongue painted white, and grinned as she pulled her tongue back inside. She gargled, spreading my seed all over her cheeks. Again, she pushed her tongue out to tease me with a puddle of semen. With a final shut of her lips, she seemed to pull it all back into the middle of her mouth. Suddenly she opened her mouth again to display a clean tongue and gums. Had she swallowed? I certainly didn't see her throat move.

"Do you think I swallowed~?" Her sickly sweet voice seemed to tease me. "Maybe I pushed it into my operculum, eh, Sadiq~?" Would she really do it? A child just as soon as we were free? "I wonder~..." I felt my penis harden on its own, aroused beyond words by the danger of pregnancy. I couldn't believe how much I wanted to see our children climb all over her slender back. She smiled at me as she wrapped her small hands around my shaft, pumping it vigorously as she positioned her lips at my opening. Soon I came again.



Dawn broke, filling the ruin with yellowish light. My body, filled with bruises from her stinger, was finally beginning to respond to me. Yarah had milked me for dozens of shots, at least half of which had potentially entered her operculum. She had almost sadistically played with the semen in her mouth again and again, sometimes exaggeratedly swallowing it, sometimes just making it disappear. Was she pregnant? I had no way of knowing. She had fallen asleep on the foot of the bed, her upper body barely on the ancient straws.

I slowly climbed down to her as my paralysis wore off. Her sleeping face was so beautiful - my wife... Her lips were too encrusted with semen to kiss, but I wormed myself under her and hugged her tight. No matter was to become of us, we were finally safely together. I drifted back to sleep as her soft breasts pressed into my chest, the weight as pleasant as a cold winter day. I didn't know if I dreamt it, or if she mumbled in her sleep, but I heard her soft voice call to me: "I love you, husband~..."





   ***   ***   ***

        CASE Archives

        | Good news, J! For once nothing is going horribly wrong, at least not yet. As you know, the local royals aren't exactly open about their family history. This seems like something we can take advantage of.  -Q.

R E S T R I C T E D
SECTION 01 OF 01 GIGHTI 710620TRBGGH
EMBASSY INTERNAL
SUBJECT: (A) NATIONAL ARCHIVE ALERT (TRBS-00673-A)
This assignment pertains to possible information about the history of the TARABUL ROYAL FAMILY to be uncovered during an upcoming historical conference at GIGHTI UNIVERSITY.



From 11-12-13th October 1272, The Anubis-Institute  and The Department of Cross-Cultural and Desert Regional Studies (CDRS) will jointly host the VII Desert Dynastic History Group (DDHG) conference at the University of Gighti.

In conjunction with the conference, participating scholars are allowed to access the National Archives of Tarabul, provided that their pre-screened research plans are deemed to be of sufficient scientific interest. Participants who wish to access the Archives are to provide abstracts by 11th July 1271. All applicants will be notified by 10th October 1271. Access to the Archives will be granted for 6 months between 11th October 1271 and 11th February 1272.
        | You might notice the deadline's 3 weeks from now. Don't worry, we've had some actual historians write up an abstract for you already. Why not have one of them do the whole job then, you might ask? Well, we need someone with embassy credentials to keep the guards off your back, and I don't think many academics want to get caught snooping in a place like this. Oh, did I mention it might actually be dangerous as well as boring as all hell? Sucks to be you after all, agent!

You are to make full use of the archival access. Topics of interest include:
1. Early history of the ibn Yahya dynasty
2. Circumstances concerning the founder of the dynasty
3. Any individuals of special interest in the dynasty
        | "Special interest" means sex criminals or something to that effect. There's obviously some skeletons in that closet, why else would they keep everything under lock, key and sword? We're looking for anything we can use to undermine the position of the royal family if they want to oppose us at any point in the future. A rapist in the family tree would be ideal, given how hard they lean on morality to justify their rule.

All archive time is to be used for official purposes. A presentation unrelated to your assignment in the Archives will be prepared for you. A preparatory archival course will be provided before the assignment. Any necessary presentation aids will be provided during the conference.H███
        | That means you'll spend the next month learning how to sit in a chilly underground cavern reading ancient manuscripts written in really funny letters and a foreign language. There's gonna be a real presentation for you to give at the conference, and we'll have an earphone full of actual historian to help you answer any questions. The academic shit is under control.





R E S T R I C T E D
SECTION 01 OF 01 GIGHTI 720215TRBGGH
EMBASSY INTERNAL
SUBJECT: (R) NATIONAL ARCHIVE REPORT (TRBS-00673-R)
This report pertains to information about the history of the TARABUL ROYAL FAMILY uncovered during the historical conference at GIGHTI UNIVERSITY.


An investigation into the National Archives is now completed. The assigment must be considered a partial failure, as nothing of immediate political interest was uncovered. Topics of interest 1 and 2 were successfully investigated, but nothing fitting topic 3 was found. If any unquestionably politically useful individuals exist, they are not referenced in the Archives. Any political use to us comes from topic 1.

Topic of interest 2:
Sayyid YAHYA himself was found to be a possible immigrant. He is described as a "sworn enemy of the decadent infidels" across the Western Sea, and he and his wife seem to suddenly appear out of thin air in Gighti in late 649. It seems likely that the founding pair were some sort of rebels or criminals who wanted to lay low in the desert. However, YAHYA quickly became known as a zealous firebrand. Tarabulian commentators believe that either his wife or a close relative had been subject to the sort of sexual slavery he preached most strongly against.

The man's personal history is muddled: he is decribed variously as an ascetic mystic or as a rampaging holy warrior. The traditional explanation is that the sources describing him as a frail saintly figure even as a young man have a confused chronology, and he only became weak with old age. This doesn't seem right, as the oldest manuscripts across the board describe him as a wispy priest. Perhaps a captain or personal enforcer has been conflated with the preacher himself? Possibly early documents downplay the physical to emphasize the spiritual? Let the real academics work it out, there's nothing we can do with it.

Really, none of this is useful to us: Tarabul is not particularly anti-immigrationist, and in any case this is all ancient history by now. Even if we could connect Sayyid YAHYA with some Western criminal, the Tarabulians would most likely take it as hostile propaganda, or write it in as the first chapter of their national hero's struggle against depravity.

Topic of interest 1:
Information about the first century of the dynasty is contradictory. Sayyid YAHYA's wife is in several sources described as a Monster, but the senior branch of the dynasty consists of only Humans. Even better, Sayyid YAHYA had Human daughters. Unfortunately, there is no mention or even speculation of a second wife or a mistress. We can't prove either way if the wife was actually a Human or if YAHYA cheated on her, and we know which one the locals would believe.
	| Honestly, even if we managed to prove she was a Monster, they'd proclaim her some sort of magical Monster saint who can birth Humans before they'd even entertain the possibility of infidelity. This is just as useless as the last part. -Q.

There is also a source of possible political unstability. A number of the lesser noble houses of the nation claim descent from mixed-marriage cadet branches, but the main line has remained fully Human until the current Sultan married an Anubis. Many older commentators have seen having a Monster monarch as undesireable, as the throne would most likely be locked to one species for quite some time. The Human monarchy has been seen as a neutral mediator between the native Monster species. The throne will likely revert to a Human cadet branch after Sultan MANSUR's death.

Recommendations:
The more powerful heirs of Human cadet branches should be groomed towards our positions. MANSUR is at worst someone who we can work with, and we shouldn't let him be replaced with a hard-liner. We should strive to help the political careers of those possible heirs friendly to our interests.J████





   ***   ***   ***

	Social Climber

I allowed by two sound tails to flutter in the stifling summer heat as I watched the court convene over a matter that barely interested me. For someone more interested in politics, it might have been more interesting - Prince Jibra'il, the third son of the Sultan, was to unexpectedly become a ruler in his own right. A brief, victorious war had turned out exactly as planned, and another small oasis had been added to the realm. An oasis, that, of course, would need a new Pasha.

Time seemed to stand still as the Grand Vizier prattled on about the traditional and legal intricasies of the appointment. As far as I was concerned, the first and only justification was force. We had given the old petty king a black eye and would now install our own man - or in this case perhaps more boy - in his place. That was the way things had always gone behind the thin veneer of civility. Sultan Yahya himself had come to power by force, even if through a coup rather than conquest.

Finally the prattle came to an end, and I pushed myself to proper attention with my shoulders. "There is one final matter before the young lord can assume his new throne..." That weasel of a Vizier adjusted her spectacles as I absent-mindedly fingered the hilt of the scimitar at my hip, and continued: "Traditional law bans an unmarried boy from taking the position. Does his lordship already have someone in mind?" The eyes of his family turned expectantly to the boy, who swallowed awkwardly. "I do, if she is willing."

The Vizier licked her lips and tensed her bushy tail excitedly - she could obviously tell from his shifty eyes that it was someone in the room. She was so willing it was almost pathetic. After all, she had made it her mission to cozy up to him for this exact eventuality. Honestly, I thought the kid would be up as a bey - a small victory was bound to appear sooner than later with the army in the shape it was. It looked like her plan had paid off. "Who is it, your lordship?" I rolled my eyes and leant back to the wall. "Miss Aïsha, Captain of the Guard." I almost fell on my tails in surprise and alarm.



I regained my footing to see the Vizier's face contort in rage and jealousy. Across the table lounged the Queen, as always in her old, dented steel breastplate. How she managed to wear that thing in the desert, especially without big ears like mine to cool her off, I had no idea, no more than I could decipher the shifting expressions on her face. I assumed she wasn't happy - she had always been somewhat standoff-ish with regards to Monsters. And yet here her own son wanted to marry one? I would have laughed had I not been in the eye of the storm. The Sultan himself appeared the most composed. "Captain, please approach," he commanded me. I obliged, and the Prince seemed to blush more with every stride. Soon I towered over the boy, who was a baby when I first arrived.

I had come a young girl with two healthy tails and something to prove - and as a prodigous fencer I had quickly made my way up the ranks. He was seven when we had first met - I had just grown my third tail and had yet to lose any. I suppose I could see how me might have been attracted to the young, powerful woman he had met all those years ago - I remember the boy staring at me, transfixed, hiding behind his mother. I suppose I smiled at him. He didn't make much of an impression on me, to be honest.

Unfortunately for him, that smiling young lady had died years ago. My second tail was now a barely-there stump after a barely-dodged sword strike, my fourth an useless lump of flesh and fur, hanging broken and crippled from a cudgel blow. My one good ear perked as I approached the Sultan, but the other hung floppy after another swipe of a sword. Why someone like him, who could have anyone he wanted, would pick me I could not understand.



"Miss Aïsha, please answer the young man." The Sultan brought me back to reality with a surprisingly gentle tone. I shouldn't have been surprised - I knew him to be a wise and compassionate man despite the great conquests he had presided. The greying man smiled at me and extended his supinated hand to his son, who was busy trying not to shiver like a leaf. Behind her the Vizier still fumed, barely controlled by the presence of the Sultan.

I turned my face to Queen, whose steel-grey hair framed her scarred face as it always had - only with more crow's feet with every passing year. Her terse expression and a quick turn of the eyes towards Jibra'il seemed to communicate a resignation to the matter at hand. For someone with a domineering presence and brutal physicality as her, it was borderline unbelievable. She had trained the Guard herself twenty years ago, and had tackled me into the flagstones more times than I could remember. Perhaps those memories, and our shared miseries on the campaign trail, that let her grudgingly accept me.

Finally I turned to the boy himself. I caught him clancing at the pale scar running from my lips to cheekbone before meeting my eyes. "Why do you want to marry me?" I asked him bluntly, and a gasp went through the assorted servants at the edges of the room. "I'm a beat-up has-been with more scars than you've years. You could have a young, beautiful wife, boy." He extended both arms to grasp my hand, and I obliged. He held it gently but firmly as he replied: "I have loved you since we first met, Miss Aïsha! You are my ideal woman!"

I barked out a laugh at the words. I suppose it's true, what they say about men, their mothers, and their taste in women. "Your Highness," I began mockingly, "Your ideal woman is more than a decade older than you, hard and scarred, and without a touch of femininity?" I grinned as I looked at him from under my brow. "Yes! I love everything about you, Aïsha!" I could tell he was completely sincere. Well, someone has to have bad taste, right? I'd heard there were men who preferred muscle glistening with sweat to the soft, scented flesh of temple maidens, but I had always taken them to be the special type. I certainly had no experience with either type.

"Wait a moment, your highness..." My brow furrowed as I recalled something peculiar. "So, when I taught you grappling, all those breaks you had to take were..." The servants gasped, the Prince blushed, the Sultan grinned and barely suppressed a laugh. So that was it. He was the type that enjoys pain. Well, that was a relief. He wouldn't expect me to be a blushing bride for him. It wasn't like I had anything against him, either. He was a good enough kid, if a bit on the soft side like his father. I'd enjoyed playing the swordmaster for him.



As I shifted my weight, pondering it, leaving him in visible anguish, it started to seem a good idea. I really had nothing to lose - it wasn't as if a broken warhorse like me was a prize to fight for - and he'd be happy, for a while, at least. I was overdue to retire in any case, hopefully before I lost an eye or a limb. Even if he'd cast me aside for some pretty young thing in a few years, I'd be set for life. If he truly loved me, he'd be happy, and perhaps I would grow to love him too. I clicked my heel irons to the marble as I reached a decision.

"Alright. We'll have it your way." I pushed the hilt of my sword down and bent towards him slightly. He looked at me in confusion, barely comprehending the flippant agreement I had just given him. "Just don't run crying to mommy if my body isn't as beautiful as you thought." Jibra'il began to beam like obsidian in the sun as the realization dawned upon him. "Thank you, thank you! I promise I will love and cherish you until the day that I die!" He lunged onto me, latching his arms around my waist and rubbing his face into the rough linen of my arming coat. "I might die before you, though. I'm an old woman, after all."

Before I knew it, the Sultan snapped his fingers and a gaggle of Kikimora and Human servants whisked me away to be washed, scented, and clad in silk. The oily sheen of the fabric was alien, almost disgusting for someone as used to rough fabrics as I was, and smelling like flowers made me feel like a rose bush. The servants even tried to hide my scars with cosmetics, but a few quick slaps brought them to heel. If the Prince wanted a roughed-up old desert fox like me, he'd better get one with warts and all.

The next two weeks passed in a daze. Jibra'il took our engagement to be a licence to touch and hold me day and night. He sat in court clinging onto me, he was measured for his robes of office holding my hand, he even demanded to be fed by me. His adoration was somehow endearing, and I found myself smiling for the first time in years - since I had lost my second tail - as I fed the future Pasha his dried dates on the night before our wedding and his coronation. It would be the first of many.





   ***   ***   ***

	Wedding Night

My silk dress smouldered. Black smoke stung my nose as a handprint was burnt onto my shoulder. "You know what I'll do to you if you hurt him, right?" The Queen stared daggers into me from below her brows. For once she'd left the dinged-up breastplate at home, but it had done nothing to diminish her presence. "And when he gets bored of me...?" I took the effort to keep a stony face, even as the heat gathered in my flesh. "I'll make sure he doesn't."

With a decidedly unfriendly pat on the shoulder she was gone. I was left to continue my way to the scented bath in peace. I had to wonder how the Queen had managed to spirit herself away immediately after the wedding ceremony, not to mention somehow getting enough ahead of me to ambush me in the corridor. She must have hidden passages running through the keep. Hidden from me? Absurd. I thought I'd have to make sure to find all of them before going off with the Prince as I went on my way.

Me, a noblewoman? I giggled at myself. An ugly man-faced warhorse like me marrying her way to riches! The sands shift in mysterious ways, that's for sure. My shoulder felt like it was sunburnt. How would I explain that to the boy if he asked about it? Maybe the baths would have some sort of cooling lotion for it, or maybe some kind of a healing priest to make it all disappear. Maybe I'd just tell him I once fought a wizard and it was a battle scar. It wasn't like he'd have any reason to doubt it.



I barely felt like myself after being scented. Beautiful clothes were bad enough, but having to walk naked and perfumed through the hall was ust wrong. I just couldn't do it. I'd stolen a towel and wrapped it around myself for the way to the Prince's bedchambers. The temple maidens that accompanied me obviously didn't approve, but what were a bunch of pencilnecked Houris going to do to me? Besides, I was royalty now. Finally we arrived at the Prince's door and I shooed the harlots away.

A servant opened the door and I muscled my way inside. A gaggle of Kikimoras flocked around Jibra'il, who sat, naked, at the reflecting pool. I barked out rather rude orders for the bird-bitches to leave. They stepped right to it, and soon I was left alone with my new husband. "So here we are, kid. You've really done it." He blushed, fidgeted at his front, and looked shyly up at me. I realized I was still wrapped in the towel and threw it away.

The towel fell away to reveal my disappointing body. A tiny bust with a thick, muscular abdomen and narrow hips made me look almost as mannish as the web of scars running up and down my skin. To my surprise, the Prince raised his hands to reveal a throbbing erection. Was he honestly turned on by the sight, or had the servants got him going in advance? He awkwardly took my hand and led me to the bed. I sat down, only for him to kiss me, push me over, and climb on top of me. It was my second kiss, the first being at the wedding, now an hour in the past.



Jibra'il had no idea what he was doing. To be honest, I didn't either, but I'd seen enough rapes on the campaign trail to know this wasn't it. He buried his face in my decidedly lackluster bust and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. He then proceeded to wrap his legs around mine, guiding them to press together. I stared at the top of his head, wondering what he thought he was doing, sort of playing along, when it happened.

He pushed his penis in between my clamped-shut thighs. It felt sort of warm. He huffed and puffed into my chest, wrapped around me like a limpet, as he humped my legs. I didn't know what to think or say. My life had taken a definite turn for the absurd. I felt my skin grow slick with his precum even as he began to hump me faster and faster. His breaths grew quicker and quicker, blasting how air between my breasts with a rhythm that was disconcertingly different from that of his hips. It made my spine tingle.

Suddenly he groaned and tightened his grip around me. Warm semen flooded between my thighs quite a way away from where it should have gone. Jibra'il let out a contented sigh and paused to catch his breath. Finally he said, "I love you so much, Aïsha..." I stroked his hair gently before answering. "Listen, boy..." I paused, trying to think up a way to put it gently. I failed. "You did it wrong."



He pulled away and I spread my legs to show his seed glistening on my thighs. His face grew pale at the sight, and tears began to well in his eyes. I was surprised at how bad it made me feel. Did I actually like him? Was it just sympathy? I had to do something, in any case. I lunged forward to wrap my hands around him. "Let's try again, alright? We don't have to tell anyone!" He ran his fingers along one of my good tails as he shook slightly in my arms.

Jibra'il slowly calmed down. Finally he seemed good to continue. I pulled away to find his penis still flaccid. That was nothing like the romance stories I'd heard, with non-stop love for hours. I guess that's how it goes, unless you have some sort of venom or potions to make them keep going. I swung both my sound tails around my body to caress his face as I took him in my lap. I took his thing in my rough, calloused hand and rubbed it up and down along my abdomen.

One arm wrapped around him as he sniffed my tails, one around his shaft as his legs wrapped around my back, I felt nothing like a glamorous noblewoman on her wedding night. It was honestly something like I had always imagined my first time might be, if I ever had one. Awkward, yes, but also somehow warm and reassuring. I didn't know if the kid would take a week or a year to find a young, pretty mistress, but I knew I'd enjoy the time we had together.



Finally his penis hardened. It was oddly sudden, it went from semihard to full attention in a couple of absent-minded strokes. "Let's go slow this time, alright?" He nodded expectantly and climbed out of my lap. "Do you want to take lead again?" I didn't really want to go on top either. He nodded again, albeit less confidently. I let myself fall backwards onto the bed and spread my legs. "Now look here," I said as I spread my lips, "Put it in here."

Jibra'il carefully positioned himself at my mouth and, once he thought he had it, plunged himself in. There wasn't any resistance - it must've been broken years ago in some scuffle or another. Honestly, it felt good. I wrapped my good tails around his back and my legs around his. We formed a sort of pulsating cocoon, arms wrapped around each other as he slowly and methodically probed my insides. I let myself relax as he worked at it.

Suddenly I felt lips on my broken ear. He'd begun to suckle on my floppy, useless flap. Shivers ran through my body as he teased my most shameful place. I yelped as he probed and prodded at it. I was ashamed at how good it felt - both physically and mentally. I shivered, then twitched, and then came as he slowly loved me and my broken body. He grew bolder and bolder as I moaned and twitched, and soon his pace had grown frantic. He groaned as he shot a new load inside me, where it belonged. The sun began to set as Jibra'il pulled out of me. The beautiful amber light accentuated the sandstone walls as his breath warmed my armpit. A sudden drowsiness overcame me, and I drifted away to sleep.



In the night I tried to sneak away to answer nature's call, but I was somehow stuck to the bed. I felt around, only to find Jibra'il clinging to my paralyzed tail, arms wrapped around it and his nose buried in the hair. It felt as if my mind had broke. Why would he want to touch that shameful thing? Why would be suck on my gimp ear? What was wrong with him? I had no idea how to deal with this situation. The pressure slowly mounted as I sat there, bewildered.





   ***   ***   ***

	Social Descender

A young woman sat, alone, in a dark room. Flatscreen monitors loomed against the wall in front of her, bathing her and the walls behind her with their sickly glow. Tired eyes scanned the pale screens as her fingers danced on the keyboard, making a tiny man on the screen jump and dash along an obstacle course. The young lady's fluffy ears trembled with excitement in the stifling, barely air-conditioned air as she hunched lower and lower onto her desk.

She giggled as her heart raced - she was neck and neck for the first place. Her pleasant conversation with her unseen rival had ceased as they both concentrated on the game, their deliberate breaths echoing in each other's headsets. The woman let out a long breath as they came to the final stretch. Suddenly a forceful knock on the door pulled her out of the zone. The room flooded with blinding sunlight, exposing the luxurious bed behind her, the heavy curtains pulled over the windows, and her mottled ears and tails.

"Your Highness! It is time for breakfast!" The Kikimora almost screamed as she burst through the door. She gave the young lady's headset a sidelong glance as she scrambled to mute it. "Princess! Haven't you slept all-" The lady finally managed to flick at the switch on her her microphone and spun to face the Kikimora with a flushed face - she burrowed her frows sightly and continued with a softer voice: "Haven't you slept all night? What sort of an impression will your Highness make on the potential husbands at the morning court?"

The Princess almost screamed at her. "I won't come! I hate politics! I'll renounce my claim!" The servant rolled her eyes at the sight. Why did the Lady always have to be like this? Her 20's were rapidly coming to an end, but she stubbornly refused to grow up. "Your Highness knows well that there is no way to escape her duties." She snapped her fingers to call an assortment of mocha Kikimoras and Elves into the room. They quickly overpowered the weak, flabby Princess and spirited her away. A couple of stragglers opened the windows and decided against changing the unused bedsheets.


   *   *   *


Morning court was uneventful. The young Pasha could be washed and perfumed, but no-one could make her even feign interest in matters of state. Matter after another was given to the Vizier to decide, and that she did with great enthusiasm. A much greater problem were the suitors: The Lady was, after all, the head of the most senior cadet branch of the royal house, and the most eligible bachelorette of the realm. Her tracts of land might be small, like her bust, but the prestige she held meant that an endless supply of rich, foreign businessmen were almost willing to die to marry her.

Coincidentally, that was exactly what was on the menu for that day as well. An older man, visibly overweight and sweating like a pig in his suit, approached the throne only to be immediately and forcefully escorted away by the guards. The Vizier frowned at the sight. She signaled her own plant to take action. A young, beautiful man, much like those pretty boys in the Lady's foreign animated serials, approached. The Vizier hoped this would finally take. She had the fief almost wrapped around her finger - if only the Lady would marry and be distracted enough for her to consolidate her position...

A yelp of pain pulled her away. She spun to see the Lady's sandal pull away from the golden boy's testicles as he began to collapse. He spun, fell to his knee onto the stairs, and tumbled down in agony. The thorns of a rose pierced the lips that held it, and droplets of blood mixed with tears at the bottom of the stairs. "Guards! Why did you let him get that close? Are you asleep!" The Lady barked orders as the guards gave the Vizier a resigned look. No luck this time, either.



A brushy tail wagged back and forth as the Vizier paced in her chamber. How would she manage to get the Princess out of the way? There had to be some way... Suddenly realization struck her - what was she doing with that witch box every night? Who was she talking to? The Vizier paused to wring her hands and adjust her spectacles. Was it a boy? This might finally let her assume total and uncontested command of the fief! But how? She swallowed as she realized who she'd have to ask for help.

The stairs to the former dungeons were steep and well-worn. The Vizier could not help but shudder as she descended into the abyss. With every intersection the bundle of cables running down into the depths grew thicker, until finally the passage leveled out. The sickly sweet smell of venom filled the air - that woman was close. Unpleasant memories filled the Vizier as she followed the bundles towards the pale, electric glow emanating from a cell to the side.

A familiar voice called out before the Vizier even had a chance to look inside. "Well, hello there, Amira!" She turned to corner to find a familiar form lounging in front of a computer, legs crossed, arms behind her back - wearing the same disgustingly smug smile she had at the Academy. "I hear you got a promotion!" The Vizier's brow furrowed, her lips pulled back into an instictive scowl, and the bristles on her tail stood at an end. "Ushna."

"Whatever brings you here, Amira dear?" False sweetness dripped from her voice, with almost the same scent as her venom, straddling the edge of sweet and disgusting. The Vizier cradled her arms and looked down as she spoke: "I... I need your help." The barely-dressed woman rose deliberately slowly, having draped her tail, still dripping with venom, over her shoulders like a feathered boa. A dark spot glistened at her crotch - the bulb at the end of her tail dribbled with the very same sticky liquid.

"How nice~" Ushna cooed sadistically as she circled the Vizier. "And whatever could it be that you need me for? It must be something important... You're shuddering like a leaf in the wind!" Amira whimpered as her old acquintance circled her like the predator she was. "I need you to find who the Princess spends her nights with." She shuddered as she felt a barb draw a trail of slime along her shoulder. "I need to get her married..." Ushna wrapped her arms around the terrified Vizier's waist. "And then you can embezzle e~verything you want, right?"

"Actually, I already know who the Princess plays with. I know everything here. You'll be happy to hear it's a boy!" Her lips pressed into the Vizier's other shoulder. "H-how much will it cost to-" A playbite cut her off as she yelped. "You already know, Amira. Don't worry, I'll arrange for him to be kidnapped and brought to him. They might even be married by the time you come down!" Tears welled in the Vizier's eyes as a barb slowly dug into her skin. She sobbed gently as it penetrated her skin.


   *   *   *


Dawn cracked to find the Princess in her bed, for once. Her dearest friend had not been online for days. Why? What was wrong? Did something happen to him? Did he get bored of her? He had disappeared so soon after the maids had ruined everything. He must have heard them call her Princess - had they spooked him? After all the effort she'd put in to seem like a normal girl, too! How rude!

She lay on her luxurious, soft bed, hugging her own tails, as the maids finally burst in. They seemed to be late, for once. Well, no matter. The heavy door swung open, but instead of the usual feathered girl waltzing in, the Princess could only hear the familiar voice. "Rise and shine, Princess! You have a visitor!" A young man fell through the door, his arms tied behind his back, his eyes tied and his mouth gagged. "It's your old friend, username Johnn-aye-ee-underscore-Wanker!" The door slammed shut with a giggle behind him.

"What the hell?" The Princess rolled off her bed and scrambled to untie the boy, muttering half to herself, half at the maids. "Wait, I know that voice!" Her heart raced as he spoke, it was him alright. "Is that you, Humie-chan-49?" She didn't know what to say, so she gave out a weak groan as she continued to free him. Finally the blindfold fell off his eyes, and he suddenly found himself face to face with a massive pair of sandy, pale, fluffy ears.

"Listen, I'm sorry I lied to you..." She was the first to break the silence. Her ears trembled above her milky chocolate face and dark almond eyes. "I-I just didn't want you to think I'm coming onto you...!" She sat on her knees, close enough for him to feel the breeze from her breath. "I guess it's out now... Actually, I am a Fennec." She perked as the boy took her hands. "Your ears are beautiful. What's your real name, anyway?" Her tails relaxed slightly at the words. "Nuriya." He grinned mischievously as he leant forward. "Nice to meet you! Besides, you didn't tell me you were a princess, either!"

They stared at each other for a moment, still tense from the sudden introduction. "Listen, I know you just got kidnapped into a foreign country and all, and I do apologize, but... Do you want to hotseat?" She rolled her eyes around the ceiling and smiled nonchalantly. "Well, I'll of course have to sue your country for emotional damages later..." She knew him well enough to see where this was going and scampered off to turn the computer on. Just as she was typing the password, she felt arms wrap around the bundle of her tails. "I'm taking an advance pay, Princess~"





   ***   ***   ***

	Marriage

"I accept, I accept, I accept." The plain sandstone walls still echoed with her words as I spoke mine. A chill ran down my spine. I knelt on a frayed, old pillow, Yarah stood on all eights next to me. Even so, I could easily see over her back. The sun-bleached, off-white robes were on loan, but it didn't matter one bit. If she was at all worried, she hid it well. Her tail, which jutted out of a cut in the fabric, arced elegantly above her back. It did not tremble in the slightest, unlike me.

The Mooezzin cleared her throat and thrust a wooden board at me. I took the quill and signed below Yarah. Her hand was impeccable, as always. Mine shuddered with nervous anticipation. Large, fuzzy claws pulled the board and parchment away with a smile. She rolled it up and pushed it into a tube cut into the stone wall. Yarah's hard, chitinous feet clattered on the stones as she discreetly rearranged herself. The signs were faint, perhaps, but I could tell she was also excited.

The Mooezzin skittered back to us. She now held a single date in the palms of her crossed claws. It was time. I took it and held it in my teeth. I turned to Yarah, but she was already on the move. Before my head had completely turned, her small hands clasped to my temples. She forced me to turn to her in an instant, and rammed her face into mine. She conscientously bit the date in half, and then unleashed an assault of kisses upon my lips. Finally she broke the kiss, and I felt a sharp pain below my jaw. The Mooezzin began to recite something, but I could only hear the chitter in her voice. My eyes fixed into eternity as burning venom began to flood into my neck.



I was, once again, paralysed. Yarah let me down gently onto the cold sand just inside the tower. I could hear the Mooezzin's fuzzy legs clatter only a few paces away, as well as her human assistant's sandals approach her. The sand thumped as she set her abdomen down below me. I stared up at the plain ceiling, unable to react, as familiar hands flipped my tunic up. I felt warm, wet lips press onto my head. From between, a slimy tongue caressed me.

She took her time teasing me. Her tongue ran all over my shaft - she pecked at it from every direction. I could feel it twitch, almost as if trying by itself to enter her mouth. Instead, she pulled away, and only let the tip of her tongue caress my frenulum in the hot air. I tried to moan, to scream, to plead, but it was useless. I could only breathe and wait for her to grow tired. She kissed my base, and I felt ready to burst.

With my eyes fixed on the unchanging ceiling, I realized I could hear something else. There were other, fainter moans that rang from the pale stones. The Mooezzin! We were still inside the Moonaret! She must have still been watching, and that assistant, weren't they usually their husbands? I blushed as I realized what was happening just outside of my vision. Were they just kissing, or were they already getting into the mood...?



My despair was cut short as Yarah rammed her nose into my stomach. Her teasing had done its job, and the sensation of my newlywed wife's throat on my head threw me over the edge. The pale stones pulsed white. I heard her skitter to her feet even as her beloved face came into view. She continued to tease me, she gurgled the semen above me, smacking her lips, and pretended to let it fall onto my face. At the last moment, she pulled it back inside.

"Do you think I've swallowed every load so far, Sadiq?" She pulled it into her cheeks to speak. "I shall tell you a secret." She held a dramatic pause and caressed my hair with her soft palm. "I ha~ve!" All that terrible teasing had been a bluff. I was relieved, but I knew her. She still had something planned. She continued: "I'm a good girl, after all. I couldn't get pregnant to only a fiancee, you know." I knew what she was about to say next. "But now, you are my true husband..." She grinned, sadistically, above me.

"Take a good, long look at my operculum, Sadiq..." She opened her lips and raised her tongue to her palate. I could see black spots on both sides of her tendon, below the tongue. Slowly she let semen flow down from her cheeks. The white liquid made its way down, unbearably slowly, until it pooled below her red tongue. Her face contorted into an open-mouthed leer, and it began. I watched my semen slowly drain away, until only a milky sheen remained.



"Thank you, Sadiq. That was delicious..." She gave me a kiss on the cheek and skittered back below me. The venom would not let me grow soft, and she rammed her throat down on me once more. This time there was no teasing. She pumped her head up and down like an assassin's dagger in the night. The pleasure almost turned into pain, and I was again forced to give up my seed. Yarah would not relent - instead she kept milking me like a Holst. Her rough, excited hands alternated with the warm, gentle touch of her mouth.

The venom had begun to wear off. I could turn my head enough to see the Mooezzin to the side. She wasn't watching. Her black, shiny pedipalps and claws were wrapped around her assistant - they gently and rhythmically pumped his hips into her. The white-clad, massive abdomen touched down on the stones for balance, and her face was smooshed into his. I shuddered again with the third orgasm of my married life.

Yarah's sweet lips gave my penis one last caress as she pulled away. She skittered forwards, again, and plopped herself down on top of me. "There's just so much of it... I'm so glad!" Yarah opened her mouth, again, to show it flow down into her secret place. She paused, teasingly. One small gulp at a time. At last she drained the last drops, only to pump them back up for a final tease. She was finally, truly done and wrapped her arms around my neck.

The warm, moist breath on my shoulder felt like the winds of paradise. I struggled to control my arms - with almost impossible effort I flapped them over her back. She fliched, surprised, as she felt the half-paralysed hug, but settled down in my arms. "I love you more than you can imagine, Yarah." She let out a slight humph at me. "That's quite a lot, you know..." I squeezed her as hard as I could - that is, barely at all. "I can't wait to meet our daughter..."





   ***   ***   ***

	Insemination

The flame danced in front of my eyes, and I could do nothing but follow it with my eyes. From beyond my reality, I could hear distorted voices. "He's ready. What do you want to imprint on him?" The Ignis' voice ran in my ears like a bell. "Make him come immediately when he puts it in my mouth." Yarah sounded like she was under water. "Oh, and make sure he can't waste it before it's time." The flame traced a pattern into my consciousness, and I fell unconscious.



"What's wrong, Sadiq? Eat your coriandered almonds. You'll need all the strength you can get!" I shuddered as Yarah's slender hand tortured me from behind. "Please...! Can't you even stop milking me while I eat?" She kept pumping me as her other hand stuffed the almonds into my mouth. "No." I felt the hot air of her breath blow into my ear. I could tell it was deliberate. "You'll need all the help you can get, my true husband..."

"Ah, ah, ah..." Yarah moaned in my ear as she continued to milk and feed me. "I can't wait! I want it deep inside me!" She gave me a particularly deep stroke as she whispered "deep" at me. Her oil-slick fingers teased my head from every direction. She made a ring with her thumb and forefinger and jabbed it over my ridge again and again. "This is what I'll do to you, Sadiq..." She moaned as she rhythmically jammed almonds into my mouth. "Imagine my lips. Imagine them sliding across your head just like this."

She paused and let me twitch. "And then, Sadiq...?" She pushed the final almond into my mouth. "Do you know what will happen?" She cupped her hand and placed it on my head. "My tongue will caress you all over, just like this..." Yarah lightly rubbed the top of my head with her palm. "And you know what's under my tongue, right?" She paused again before jabbing her fingertip into my frenulum. "It's my operculum, Sadiq. Do you think you can put it inside...?" She ran her fingertip in a lazy circle around my urethra. "No, of course you can't. But some of you will go down there..."



It was the fifth day of the week, and I was ready to die. Yarah's abdomen lay supine on the bed towards my legs as her tongue teased the insides of my ear. "Just two more days, true husband..." Her left hand lazily pumped up and down on my shaft. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped to my feet and rammed my hips into her defenceless face - only to stop just as my head was about to hit her lips. It was as if I'd hit a force field. I was completely unable to enter her mouth.

"Oh, Sadiq! You can't do it yet! It's not time! You wouldn't want to fill me up before my eggs are ready, would you?" Yarah giggled as she watched me desperately try to ram it inside her. "Really, you should be ashamed of yourself. It's because of behavior like this that we've gone a year without a child." I gave up in desperation, fell backwards and my throbbing erection swayed in the air above us. She licked her lips at the sight. "You will need to be ready when it's time. Don't think I'll let you off easy..."

I was almost insane with lust. I scrambled up and began to rub my penis all over her body. I humped her navel in a desperate effort to reach some completion. It did nothing. Yarah only laughed as I climbed higher and rammed myself into the valley between her breasts. "Don't you understand even now? It's useless." I was on the verge of tears when she pulled me close and gave me a kiss. "My dear, it will only be two nights now. Try to sleep, and tomorrow it will be even less.

I couldn't. I could even less when she pulled my tongue into her mouth and forced me to prod her operculum with the tip of my tongue. I could feel it's heat. It throbbed, desperate to swallow each and every sperm that would run down inside her. She moaned as I prodded one opening, and then the other. Finally she withdrew from me. "You see? It's not easy for me, either." She rolled me onto my side next to her. "Of course, that just means I need to have my fun..." She giggled again as she began to pump me with both hands.



Finally the morning of the seventh day arrived. I opened my eyes to find the house already bright. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't. There was a throbbing pain in my neck - Yarah had started already. As if she'd heard my thoughts, her face appeared above mine. "Ah, you're finally awake, Sadiq? What a tease you are, with this thing throbbing in the air as you slept. I almost lost my self-control a dozen times already..."

She propped me up against the wall. "You get to watch as it happens." She brought her face to mine with a gleeful grin before opening her mouth wide with her fingers. "Look deep inside!" She wriggled her tongue to display her black operculum underneath. "It's finally time. Are you ready?" She grabbed me by the base with both hands and pushed her face towards it, torturously slowly. Finally her lips made contact. As the wetness washed over my head, I exploded inside her.

It was the best orgasm I'd had in my life. Yarah's face disappeared into a white light as my seed shot inside her mouth with full force. She pulled away and left me twitching in the morning sun. She brought her face to mine and let me watch the semen drain away under her tongue. Suddenly the blissful expression on her face melted away to a mischievous grin. "You didn't think it was over, did you...?"

She rammed her face back into my penis. The immediate orgasm that followed was almost painful. I released another load of semen into her mouth, and another, and another as she jabbed her head back and forth. Only the paralysis kept me from screaming in pain and ecstacy as she paused to drain herself. Her puffed-up cheeks slowly returned to her teeth and a blissful mask rose onto her face. She smiled like an angel as she slowly brought her face back to my head. She descended, this time painfully slowly, onto me. The instant that her lips enveloped my ridge, I exploded inside her.



I stared through the floor. By the shadows I could tell it was already over noon. Yarah had tortured me without pause for hours. I shuddered as she rammed her head down on me once again. It was painful. It had been painful since perhaps the first five times. I wished she would stop already. Even more I desperately wished she would get pregnant. One litter would surely be enough, and I wouldn't have to suffer through this torture again...

I was brought back to life by Yarah's voice. "This is just water, isn't it...?" I turned my eyes enough to see her inspect the latest shot in her palm. She quickly sucked it back up. I barely reacted as I was pulled away from the wall and set down on the bed. "Thank you, Sadiq. You've done your duty as my true husband." Her voice was as formal as her words, but the solemn face melted away as soon as she was done. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me and embraced me gently.

Yarah was still wrapped around me when the venom slowly wore off. I weakly lifted my arms to lay them on her back. She looked up at me with a serene smile and squeezed me under her. "I'm filled to the brim, Sadiq. I don't think I can stand today..." I stroked her dark hair. "Just rest, Yarah. I'd do anything to support you." I barely heard her mutter back at me as she pressed her face into my chest. "You already did..."





   ***   ***   ***

	Teacher's Victim

That day didn't really seem out of the ordinary. It was just a normal day at school. Lunchtime had been kinda nice, even if it wasn't special. I sat together with Samir, my oldest and dearest friend. I actually did that a lot, so it wasn't like it was a special thing. Still, just being together with him made me a little bit happy. We made some chit-chat about TV and comics and stuff, you know, the usual. I'd hoped I could start up a chat about a new romance story I'd read as a segue into talking about something more sensitive, but I didn't have the guts to. That was normal too, obviously. I'd wanted to talk to him about stuff like that for years. Even then, I was the only girl he went to lunch with. That made me happy. Even if I couldn't take the first step, it didn't seem like there was any danger I'd lose him with my waffling around.

I still didn't expect anything when the teacher asked me to meet him after the last class. Our maths teacher was fairly young and fit. A real macho kind of guy. He was kinda pervy, too, though. He liked to linger around girl students' desks in class and very obviously try to look down their shirts. Popular with girls who either didn't take his classes, and only saw the young muscleman strutting down the halls, or who liked to milk him for grades. It was pretty disgusting, the way some of the girls would dress to go up to the blackboard. They looked like cheap strippers with their huge breasts almost falling out in front of him. The worst part was that there was one cow who seemed to be aiming for my Samir. She'd unbutton her shirt as low as it went before her udders fell out and paint her horns red. I think she tried to make me feel bad about my chest, too. She'd bounce herself at me while making kissy faces at him. Disgusting...

Ah, the teacher, yes. I went to his office with him after class. He sat me down and turned his computer screen halfway towards me. "I've got something here you might want to see, dearie." I hated how he called us girls with cutesy names like that. I bit down on my teeth and watched as he put on a video file. It was one of the classes at our school, shot from the ceiling. He'd planted a hidden camera! I knew at once it'd be something bad. I just hoped it wouldn't be the worst thing possible. Naturally, it was. I knew immediately what was going on when I saw a very familiar figure walk into view with a tiny laundry bag. Long hair, staight bangs, dress shirt buttoned all the way up, plaid skirt hanging all the way down to the knees. "That's you, isn't it?" I stood silent. On the screen I walked to Samir's desk, pulled his sweaty T-shirt out of the bag, and finally took off my panties and put them in. I slowly brough the shirt to my face and took a big, long sniff.



"You're a real piece of work, aren't you?" He sneered at me. "I mean, it's gross enough that you'd steal his shirt after gym class..." I shuddered as he drew his words out. "But this? This shit is just too much, little miss." I watched my tentacles extend. They trembled as I pushed them out. First the externals, one by one. I remembered almost too clearly how I'd got the last one out. Even if I hadn't, it all played out on the screen in front of me. I rubbed his shirt all over my face as I humped the edge of his desk. Slowly it edged out from between my lips. I glanced over at that disgusting creep. He winked at me. I didn't know if I'd rather look at him or the shameful display on the screen.

I wrapped my external tentacles around the sensitive, slippery inner one. I knew good girls wouldn't do that, but I just couldn't help myself. "How does an innocent-looking girl like you know how to do something like that? I bet you're actually a huge slut!" I gritted my teeth in loathing for him and disgust at myself. My tentacles wrapped into a tight bundle, the externals bound like a rope around my secret thing. "You'd hate it if he saw what you did next, you know...?" I would. I took his shirt away from my face. I was glad the camera didn't show it. At least there was something I wouldn't have to relive that day. Instead, I had to watch myself wrap the shirt around my bundle and start to hump it like I was a boy.

"Stop it already. Please..." He grinned as I looked away from the screen. I knew I'd gone wild with that thing. He must have watched it before, too. "You're a real perv, Leila. You sure like to pretend you're so good and pure, with your shirt buttoned up like a noose every single day, no matter how hot it gets." I clenched my fists, and really my entire body, as I waited for the film to end. "But you know what?" He made another dramatic pause. Disgusting. "That just makes me harder." He spun in his chair to reveal his slacks drawn tight by a very visible erection. "'Good girls' like you are the best. I want to fuck you harder than any of the sluts who suck me off for a couple of points on their test." Finally the video came to an end. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes.

"Now, here's how it is: I've encrypted this video. You can walk out on me if you want, hell, you can even call the cops, but nobody will find anything on me. I'll send a copy to your little friend here, though. He'll see everything you did." My chin started to tremble. "If you want to keep it a secret, I'll gladly help you out. You just have to do something for me, too." He unzipped himself and plopped his huge thing out. "If you suck me off, I'll won't send it for a week." He wrapped his thumb and index finger around it and gave it a little shake. The tip glistened in the cold light of the monitor. "So you could give me a BJ every week to keep this all under wraps. Tell me, have you even had your first kiss yet?" I shook my head. "Oh, I'm going to love this!" He slid forward in his chair. "...Or! Or, if you don't want that, you could sit on my hard dick here. You give me your virginity and I'll never tell him anything. How about that?"



I stood still with my head down for what seemed like an eternity. I tried not to show it, but I cried all the while under my bangs. He must have been able to tell, anyway. I bet it just made him more excited. He was still rock-hard when I'd made my decision. I stepped up to him without a word. He gave me a little hip thrust in anticipation. "Brace the chair." I snapped at him, but he just grinned as he back himself against the corned. I sat in his lap. "You know, I haven't had anyone like you before. I bet those tentacles up your pussy feel real good..." He brought his hands down to my hips. He pulled my panties aside with one hand and grabbed his thing with the other. My externals slowly extended out of my body...

...And snapped around his wrists. My hands shot out and I wrapped my fingers around his throat. The teacher trashed under me as I pressed down on his neck as hard as I could. It really hurt when he pushed and pulled against my externals, but I didn't have a choice. Holding things down is what they're for, anyway. I kept my hold on him as I screamed in anguish and tried my best to crush his throat. He continued to struggle, but finally he started to get weaker and weaker. Eventually his hands stopped hurting my tentacles, but I didn't dare stop strangling. I must have sat on top of him for ten minutes before I was sure he was dead. Even then, after I'd pulled my tentacles back inside me, I just sat there in shock.

I don't know how long it was before Samir came in. By then I'd slumped off his body. I sat against the wall hugging my knees and crying. I don't really know what happened after that. I guess he'd been waiting for me to walk home with him and got worried when it started getting dark. I think he called the guards. Beyond that you should know everything better than I do.


   *   *   *


"And there you have it! En-tee-arr! Spouse-stealing! The most heinous crime of them all! This beautiful young lady acted in self-defence! If anything, that teacher deserved much worse than the easy death he got!" The Tanuki lawyer crowed like a carnival attendant hawking some lewd game. I sat quietly in my chair. I couldn't really do the theatrics she'd only interrupted for my testimony. I hoped she'd been right when she'd said that a timid girl like me had a better chance of being released.

The judge spoke up. Her stern voice stood out against the shrill Tanuki. "Let us not get ahead of ourselves." The Tanuki spun to attention. "The following has been demonstrated: One, the teacher was trying to blackmail the accused for sex. Two, the accused is in love with her fellow student. However, the third point has not been substantiated. Does the student is question also love the accused? Without this crucial point, the teacher was guilty of simple rape. Not something that justifies killing him."

The room stood in silence for a moment. "If both the accused and the student agree to it, a traditional proof of love would prove her innocence." I perked up and looked straight at Samir across the room. He'd done the same. I tried to give him a soft nod, but I ended up shaking my head back and forth like my life depended on it. He blushed, but held my eyes. He shouted it out almost at the same time as I stuttered - "I accept!"


   *   *   *


It all went by in a blur. The guards carried a huge bed into the courtroom. Everyone but the guards and the judge were herded out, and I found myself on my knees on one edge of the bed with Samir on the opposide edge. I half knee-walked, half crawled towards him. The point where we met was definitely closer to his end. I would have felt bad about that, if he hadn't met me with a kiss at once. I had my hands on his shoulders and they pressed against my chest when he hugged me. It was nice, but we had to go ahead. I pushed him down onto the bed. Samir pulled his pants down while I shuffled myself to straddle him.

My externals uncurled inside my panties. They shook as I pushed the fabric aside and wrapped them around his thing under my skirt. It was so hot - I could even feel the blood coursing inside with his heartbeat. I couldn't help but get even more excited. I leaned forwards and held myself up with my forearms above him. My tentacles held him in place as I lowered my hips into his lap. I let my legs fan out to the sides to take him inside. His head slid past my lips, and then, slowly, past the roots of my externals. I let out a mixed moan and gasp as the ridge cleared them. I'd never put anything so deep inside before. I don't even want to imagine the lewd face I made as I looked in his eyes.

I leaned forward even more and held my cheek to his. "Are you ready? I'll put it in now..." I couldn't make out what Samir said, and I didn't care. I felt my internal unwind deep inside me. I let it snake through my cervix, but something was wrong. I had just enough time to panic before I realized the thing blocking the way was HIS thing. I swallowed. I let myself give his head a couple of cautious licks and positioned myself at his opening. I couldn't control myself anymore. Samir yelped in surprise as I entered him. I let out a shuddering moan as I felt more and more of my internal tentacle worm inside him. Then I felt it pass under one of my externals at his base. Finally it was all the way inside. It felt so good... I couldn't have ever imagined the pleasure.

I began to rock on Samir. My internal thrust back and forth much faster than my hips kneaded him, and it only got faster and faster as I got more excited. I rammed myself inside him like I was trying to wring him dry. My back arched in the air as I pumped inside him like a piston. I bet it didn't even surprise him when I came after a couple of minutes. I thrust myself all the way inside him and gaped my internal, trying to suck his seed up inside me, but there was nothing. I was spent and collapsed onto his shoulders. It was perfect. Just like I'd imagined all those times I'd rubbed myself to thoughts of him.

Suddenly he began to thrust again. His head pushed back and forth across the roots of my externals. I couldn't understand what was happening for a moment. It felt kinda gross to have him push on my limp internal like a rope. It was still inside him and I could feel it slapping against my cervix with each thrust. It sort of hurt, especially when I'd just come, but it was sort of good, too. It felt really lewd. Samir kept panting down my shirt as he rubbed my roots raw. Soon he, too came. I felt the semen wash over my internal, and I could barely control myself to keep it closed.

Samir let me down on the bed beside him. My internal was pulled tight and slowly retracted from his thing as he pulled away from me. I pushed myself up on my elbows to see myself spread out on the back of my skirt. My internal tentacle lay sprawled over my externals, covered in white semen. It was really lewd, the way the crimson-and-white internal whithed on the black externals. I watched in a daze as I slowly pulled them all inside me. Then there was only a dark, slimy stain on the plaid.



Suddenly a voice interrupted us: "I am satisfied that the third point has been shown. The accused is innocent. Please clear the room for the next case!" The guards pulled us up and pushed us out of the door. Samir barely had time to get back in his pants. We found ourselves on the stairs of the courtroom in the dusty main square. I sat down on the bottom step. It was cold. "So, I guess we love each other, right...?" I didn't really know what to think about what had just happened. I guess I was still abit dazed. "You know, I've wanted to tell you for a while, now." Samir wrapped his arm around me. "I guess I've always liked you. I mean, you know I do, but I mean it's not a new thing." We sat there and leaned on each other for a while.