Going Native by Perspikay and Friend!

Hi all, this is a collaborative story I wrote with my friend Perspikay! If you like it and wanna read more work like it, check out her DA at http://perspikay.deviantart.com
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Going Native

The room was charged with joviality as the guests mingled and mixed with each other, cocktail glasses clenched tightly as the champagne popped and flowed, the dulcet sound of the harpist playing a lullaby to the museum’s newest acquisition. But even as the bodies milled around him, all Professor Sienkiewicz could do was gently adjust his glasses as he gazed up in astonishment at the enormous totem that loomed above them. He’d never dreamed he’d be able to see it in the flesh. 12 feet of magnificent, polished obsidian shone and glimmered in the gallery’s soft lighting, every angle and corner designed to guide the eye across the ivory relief figures that embedded themselves on it’s surface. He blushed as he gawked at multitudes of sculpted women, their exaggerated impossible forms exhibiting massive hips and bulbous breasts - and occasionally - gravid pregnant bellies, clearly denoting some sort of hyper fertility. They were all frozen in some sort of dance, a ritual, around a ferocious male figure at the centre of the totem, his enormous member towering over a woman who was kneeling low in supplication, his own groin tingling slightly..

    “Wow.” a voice next to him gasped. “It’s so… expressive.”

    He’d been so absorbed he hadn’t noticed Janice’s presence. He whipped around to find his favourite student gawking up at the totem with the same look of hushed reverence on her face, absently twisting her ponytail around her finger. When he’d been invited to help the museum curate the Kerezala Totem for the gala, he couldn’t help but bring her along as well. She’d spent years researching her thesis on the Mutabwe people, their sudden flourishing golden age and mysterious collapse.

    “I still can’t believe it’s real.” Janice said. “I mean I’ve seen the pictures, but to actually see it face to face.. a totem from the Mutabwe high period this well preserved.. Just look at the details on the figures! The poses feel like they’re leaping out at me, they look so realistic despite all the exaggerations.”

     “Yes. it’s breathtaking.” The Professor answered. “I didn’t think any still existed.”

    “What do those characters around the base of the totem say..?”

    “It was some sort of proverb, I think. “The strong will grow stronger while the lesser will quench their hunger” His eyes darted back to the central figure and his lips tightened into a barely hidden smirk. “I have a few guesses as to what it means.”

    “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Hannah giggled as she butted in between the two of them and sipped on her glass of champagne. “Honey, you need to tear your eyes off that statue for more than a minute. This is a party, remember? You two look like zombies standing there!”

    For a moment Professor Sienkiewicz was stunned at the contrast between his wife and the student, her t-shirt and jeans making a night and day difference with Hannah’s dignified little black dress. Yet, she was always so alive and perky at these sorts of events, she even looked younger, the glow of excitement evident in her face, her own enjoyment of events like these shining through her. They’d met on a dig site years ago, back when he’d still been active in the field himself - the bright, attractive girl asking him question after question about whatever relics he’d had to hand, showing genuine interest in his work. Together they’d made a perfect match - his knowledge and research, allied to her own interest and growing knowledge as well as her enjoyment of social events like this, had been the main reason he’d managed to get this appointment in the first place, and create the collection that he had. It was as much her baby as his.

     She deftly hooked her lithe arm around her husband’s and tugged insistently. “C’mon honey.”  She grinned. “There’s some people I want you to meet.” With a gentle look of resignation the Professor stumbled along attached to his wife, looking back at his student glibly waving at the two of them and chuckling to herself. “Have fun, sir” she smiled, before turning back and circling the totem to inspect it closer, her breath fogging the glass as she leaned in.

    There was a large mix of academia and upper crust society populating the gala, even though it had been intended to be a small function, the guest list had unwittingly ballooned out of control. But it was the first guest on the list that Hannah beelined for, the man who the totem was on loan from and who had originally acquired it for his private collection. Barrel chested and tall, he cut a strong figure for a man in his late 50’s, his silvery hair well matched to his dark olive complexion. His hands gesturing extravagantly as he expounded to the small group of guests trying to hide their boredom, Basil Kinnock (or “sir” Kinnock - the professor could never remember how those titles worked ) the old familiar story drifted through the room to the Professor’s ears. He, of course, had been intimately involved in every step of the process, finding, cataloguing, researching; there had been no step of the totem’s journey from desert sands to its position at rest on the high podium which hadn’t involved him to some degree. Inwardly he scoffed. Oh, in appearance he was everything the public might think of when asked to imagine an elder statesman of archaeology, still active in the field, but if his actual work was anything like the time he’d put in with the Professor the only time he had dust on his boots was when he’d left them to rest stored away in a cupboard somewhere. Not that he would risk a blemish on those expensive Italian loafers.

    “Ahh! Kieran!” Basil shouted to the professor as he reluctantly drifted to the front of the crowd. “And Hannah. It’s truly an honour to be blessed with not one, but two of the most preeminent experts in the Mutabwe culture. Besides myself, of course.”

    “Mmhmm, we’re very grateful you invited us, Sir Kinnock. The only reason my husband hasn’t had the time to thank you already is because he was so busy studying the artefact.” Hannah groaned. “I practically had to drag him away from the thing.”

    “Now now, it’s not every day one gets to be exposed to a fully preserved Mutabwe Totem!” Basil exclaimed bombastically. “Though with such a fine creature on his arm it’s quite curious how Kieran could find the time to tear himself away.”

    Hannah tittered nervously at his compliment, butterflies forming in her stomach as she took another long sip of the cool red wine. She’d been feeling the usual giddiness that heralded any evening like this, even before she’d entered the room, but after she saw the totem she’d been feeling truly ecstatic. The totem was going to revolutionize her field of study and she had Basil to thank for it, even if he would take all the credit. She shifted on her high heels slightly as he leaned in to take her tiny hand in his own, before shaking Kieran’s forcefully.

    “Well then, now that you’ve had your inspection, what do you two think the totem was meant to symbolize?”

    “Well..” Hannah said. “It seems that it’s clearly used in some sort of fertility ritual, most likely entailing a, well, orgy of some sort.” She blushed. “The inscription at the bottom seems to imply that the central figure is divinely powerful, holding command over and providing nourishment to the women that please him.”
   
    Basil seemed pleased with this explanation, when the Professor began to speak. “An alternative theory we’ve also been working on is that the inscription is a warning, the central male being some sort of demonic figure, a spirit of unchained lust who feeds off the souls of the weak. Only by being appeased is the demon sated, keeping him at bay.”

    Kinnock rubbed his chin and went silent for a moment, before breaking into a beaming grin. “Both of these interpretations would answer so many of the questions we have about the Mutabwe culture! I do hope you’ll stay on and continue studying the totem. It really is quite fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Truthfully, I know I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of it!” Laughing softly, Hannah tossed her head back towards the display, at the younger girl still studying it. “It’s just so interesting!” The Professor chuckled inwardly, his wife’s curiosity and interest still so strong even after all these years.

    “Well, I don’t want to tie up either of you too much! Please, go and enjoy yourselves! The totem and all of the study it entails will still be here when the party finishes!” The man grinned, slapping Kieran on the shoulder with his thick hand. The two of them looked at each other and smiled dreamily as they wandered back off into the crowd, Basil turning back to speak to some other dilettante who’d bother to listen to his story.   

******************************************************

As the night went on, the alcohol began to flow more generously and freely. The pale cheeks of the attendants turned rosy and bright in the sterile air of the gallery, the wine increasing both in volume and quantity. Kieran was himself nursing a half drunk martini glass in his hand as his wife slumped her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He could catch a glimpse of his favourite pupil giggling into her drink at the bar, her ponytail somewhat messy and yet neatly curled around her neck. It seemed like the atmosphere of the entire party had been slowing down into a calm and drunken stupor. Even the harpist was beginning to haphazardly miss notes as she tugged at the stringed instrument, her bemused face giving her a tipsy air.

In the centre of the room, Basil stood, his raised voice still continuing on his favourite theme, interrupted now and then by the giggles of the small group that stood around him, listening intently.

As the Professor and his Wife slow danced to the sound of the harp stringing them along, they both waltzed past the totem, the obsidian looking for all the world as if it was sparkling. Hannah’s lidded eyes perked up as she gazed across the slutty figures playing with each other on the totem, smirking as her eyes drifted to the appalling ivory cock poking out so rudely. Suddenly she felt...really thirsty. She lazily twirled her fingers in circles on the back of Kieran’s neck as she giggled.

“Kieerraannn.. Get me a drink.”

“Get it yourself.”

“Poo, you’re no fun!” Hannah chuckled as she pushed Kieran away, her tipsy husband almost losing his balance for a moment as she tried to make her way over to the bar. It was just that her heels were so high and her dress was clinging so tightly to her sweaty body, forcing her to mince and strut with every step she took. It didn’t help that her dress was also so very short, letting everyone see the exposed camel toe on her panties as she swished and swayed across the room.

Janice waved a lazy hand as the other woman stepped up to the bar next to her. “Hi! This is such a great party, i’m having so much fun!” Hannah slumped on the bartop, grinning over at the girl. Suddenly she just felt so top-heavy… maybe she had had too much to drink after all. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it!” Her hand drifted slowly over to hold the other girl’s. “My husband always said you were his best student, so of course we had to invite you to come!” Behind the bar, the young bartender slid two more glasses over, Hannah greedily grabbing hers to poor the cool liquid down her throat. Beside her she heard the choking sound change to a giggle, Janice’s strained t-shirt dribbling with red wine that has missed her mouth. “Oopsie.”


    Hannah smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. You know, in ancient cultures, being so eager that you spill some food or drink was a sign of how much you were enjoying yourself.” Under her eyes, one drip of the crimson liquid rolled across the small dark stain, on the crest of the round chest beneath it. “If you want, you could always go in the back somewhere, i’m sure I have some old clothes you could change into if you wanted lying around here somewhere!”

    “No, it’s ok.” Her finger dipping to collect the drop, all three women’s eyes followed it as it became an unconscious little caress, a stiff peak rising to poke out of the material. “It’s only a cultural thing, right? I mean, so are clothes, too. I could be completely naked if I really wanted!” The new wine glass quickly placed served just right to salve Hannah’s dry throat. “Has anyone ever told you how.. how young you look? I mean, for your age. You could probably pass as my sister!”

Hannah almost choked into her drink as well, but managed to gracefully down the wine in a fluid gulp. “Oh hush, don’t tease me like that. I’m old enough to be your mother.” Janice just grinned and twirled her lengthening ponytail around her fingers. “I’m serious! You look amazinngg~. Hee hee, this whole conversation is reminding me about all those weird anomalies about Mutabwe culture.” Hannah pursed her lips and ordered another drink. “You mean like how after the high period the Mutabwe seemed to just abandon clothes?”

Janice nodded eagerly as if her head was on a swivel. “Yeah! Or how after a while the only remains that are found are just breeding age females. It’s like, where did all the men go? Or the older women and stuff? Spooky right?” Hannah just rolled her eyes and arched her back, her dress barely straining to encapsulate her swelling bust. “Those are just myths Jan, they wouldn’t stand up to any academic rigour. We just haven’t found enough samples yet.”

“I know, right, I mean, how could a culture get by without any men? It just wouldn’t work.” Eyes glazed slightly as she put her glass back on the bartop. “They couldn’t go without… I mean, it makes no sense.”

The Monkey's Paw by Ed Miller

Or not...

Ah well, hope you like what I got up for you guys today to make up for it:)

PS:  E-mail Ed and let him know you like his stuff, he seems to be under the impression nobody likes his work these days!
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This is a story involving explicitly described sex. If you think you
might be offended by it, or you aren't allowed by the laws of the place
in which you live to read such a story, don't. If you read past this
warning, any offense you take or laws you break are your problem. I've
warned you.

Permission is hereby given to archive this story anywhere on the
Internet, so long as I'm credited as the  author, it is reproduced in
its entirety (including this disclaimer!) and no fee is charged to
access it.

On the matter of fees: I wrote this story (and others) for free, and I
never expected to get anything out of it except the occasional response
or critique, either good or bad. Constructive criticism is welcome,
though please don't be abusive, and remember that this is primarily an
attempt at a wank-story, not something aimed at a Pulitzer Prize.

My point being: the only benefit I get from writing is feedback, and it
seems to be tapering off in recent years. If you like it, tell me! If
you don't, tell me why! Leave feedback on Fictionmania (that's best), or
send email to:

edmiller21@yahoo.com

Put "your stories" in the subject line, or I might miss it in all the
junk email I get.

Lastly: I am not retired.  I just seem to have fewer ideas for these
kinds of stories.  I HAVE been writing quite a few captioned images;
check them out at Freya's site if you haven't already.


The Monkey's Paw
By Ed Miller

I heard the echoes of my bare feet as I padded quietly over the tile
floor down to where we kept it.  It was past midnight, and I wasn't
worried about running into one of the others, but I wasn't taking
chances.  I hadn't turned on any lights, and I was walking as quietly as
possible.

My breath was coming quick and shallow.  I felt a warmth all over my
body.  My cock stood out straight and stiff, tenting the front of my
shorts, and my nipple were hard on my bare chest.  The thought of it
turned me on, made me horny.  I loved it and hated it.  I couldn't stop.

I turned from the wide hallway into the large, opulent room where we
kept it.  The size of the house was good for me; it made it that much
less likely that any of the others would happen to interrupt me.  It
wasn't like there was a time when I could be sure of being alone in the
house.  None of us worked anymore, since we'd found the Monkey's Paw.

Sunday in the Park With Peri by Varian/Chiara

I don't think I've posted anything lately by the wonderful team of Varian & Chiara here....

So, let me correct that.

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The Haunted House by Ed Miller

Gosh, what can I say about this one....

It has sexy girls, the transformation of the girlfriend into an equally eager nympho, a haunted house, a curse and...and....just damn, it has it all.

Did I mention it was set at my favorite time of the year...Halloween?

And now, Ed Miller's "The Haunted House"!

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As usual, this is a story containing graphic sexual content. If you are not 
legally allowed to view such a story, don't download it, read it, touch it, 
lick it, eat it, burn it, use it for toilet paper, or even stand near it.

Permission is hereby given to archive this story on any site so long as this 
disclaimer is attached, no fee is charged, and I am credited as the author 
(I've actually gotten hate mail for having claimed to write my own stories, 
because other people have made the same claim and some idiot believed them.)

If you do read it, send any comments to: zxcvbnm21@hotmail.com
Or leave feedback if the site you're reading this on allows it. I always 
read it, even if I don't answer much, and I'm always interested to hear 
comments, even if it's just "nice story," or, for that matter "you suck." 
Don't be shy; say what you think. I really do want to hear it.

If you want to know where the rest of my stories are archived, nearly all of 
them are at www.fictionmania.tv.

I should warn you, ladycyrrh (who was a reviewer way back on assm; this 
preface has become rather dated) labeled another of my stories "a fuckfest, 
but more literate than most." That is, of course, exactly what I was aiming 
for: a fuckfest. Literary worth belongs in literature. What you're reading 
now is smut. Be forewarned.

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The Haunted House
By Ed Miller

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Where Trophies Are Made by SP2000

A cap series I had requested of the wonderfully talented (see his blog linked on this site!) SP2000.  It's a wonderful read, full of good details;)

 

The Vera Saga by Reprobate and Vengeance1701

A series of captions I did with the charming and wonderful Charlotte AKA Reprobate:)

Soon by Serenity

Here's a story by a girl who just loves to get a bit dirty!

I call her Serena but everyone else calls her Serenity!

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Some might say that I've been out of the game too long. That I am washed
up. That I lost my edge. They look at the production numbers, point to
their visually pleasing, but all too cliche charts and powerpoints, and
say that my time is over. That new blood is needed. And old Mr. Williams
is not. Do you know what I said? After all the preening, all the bullet
points and buzzwords, all the sneering smiles on the young pack of hyenas
who just got their business degrees from Phoenix University? I calmly
leaned forward, smoothed out my custom tailored italian suit coat, and in
a gruff, low, growling voice, I said. "Fuck you, You're Fired."

As their jaws dropped, I smugly sat back and thought one thing.


Damn. It's good to be the boss.

Match Game by Cluedog

One of Clue's most recent works staaaaaaaaaaaaarring his own original creation, Monsieur Fugly!

He's a shapeshifter that has excellent taste in shapes!

Reassignment by Ingrid Halb

I always liked this concept and wished it had gone a bit further detailing the transformation aspects but.... it does its job well enough:)

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REASSIGNMENT
By Ingrid Halb






Reassignment Case file 2107-6306-G
Subject: Candace (Ethan Kaine)
Classification: FOUO/Sensitive
Start Run:
Yes it was possible for a tired 47-year old man to continue to be a productive member of society, but Ethan Kaine had chosen an increasingly obsolescent career path. His line of work was rapidly being automated with new AI software. But after 22 years of federal service Ethan was of the firm belief that the system worked and that the Government would take care of its loyal servants. So he chose to disregard the slashing of the research project and the rising tide of more and more autonomous AI programs to handle more and more of his job. Five years ago, his latest supervisor tried to warn him.
"Ethan," he said, "get out while you can and get yourself a voluntary reassignment. Or next thing you know you're on your way to the colonies."
"Oh c'mon," Ethan would usually reply. "They're always going to need someone to supervise these programs. They don't watch themselves you know."
Three years later the supervisor took voluntary reassignment and was gone. Two years after that, Ethan was still there. So, he had been warned. But in his defense it would be tough to find a better job than his current position. Government housing with work at home privileges, business class healthcare, retirement support, and all the holidays and scheduled pay advances that come with working in the civil service made this a comfortable life. And comfort makes it easy not to worry too much about the future.
In reality, Ethan was afraid to change careers. Sure he fantasized about making a big leap for a flashy new job with excitement and sexappeal, but for those jobs he would be competing with guys less than half his age. No, civil service was it, boring but safe with a nice predictable career path. That was, until this morning when he tried to log onto his home workstation and found a flagged message on the desktop instead.
'Remote terminal access denied. Digital ID signature indicates you are occupying a redundant employment position and/or one deemed slated for automation. You have seven days to report to your local Government Assignments Department office for reassignment evaluation. If you believe this message to be in error contact the Help Desk at your nearest Reassignments Center at your earliest convenience. Send receipt/acknowledge (Y/N)?'