Thread: Passing Strange

Ok, done for the day, Continued tomorrow...

Aaaaaaannnnnnnnd suddenly, a groin injury doesn't seem all that horrible.

Ok - slept late yesterday so stayed up late and got some writing done, but as a result I slept late today...

This is getting to be a habit! Gotta get back on a decent sleep schedule soon. But for today, I don't have any food in the house and don't feel like shopping or cooking (I just want to write) so Imma hit Church's and pick up enough fried chicken to last for lunch and dinner.

Yeah... that's a plan!

Back to it soon, with greasy fingers!

Ah damn! Finger lickin' good!! Got enough to last all through today and tomorrow! Now I can really settle in and write...

I help Xey off with his tight jacket and shirt because the pain of his deeply bruised chest (or possibly broken ribs) makes it impossible for him alone. The sight is frightful - a deep gash across his right bicep/shoulder area and terrible huge splotches of black blue purple and yellow ranging all across his ribcage - which looks altogether sunken and fragile to begin with.

The water nymph plunges momentarily down into the 10 foot diameter pool, which seems to run deep into the earth below, and slides up just in front of him - it's as if the dip invigorates or refreshes her for the new work.

Again she places her hands on his knees and pushes them apart, just as she did for DeMonica. She rises up between his splayed legs, places her forearms on his thighs, and leans forward to begin gently licking and nuzzling at his bruised chest. In moments he throws his head back over the chair's backrest the way DeMonica did and releases a shuddering moan. Also in seeming imitation of the Amazon's actions his hands involuntarily seek out the back of her head and clasp it possessively as it slithers and slides greedily across his ribcage.

Her mouth works all around in circles and loops, nibbling and licking softly at first, but with increasing rapaciousness. Presently she wanders onto his bloodied arm and pays particular attention to the ragged wound there, kissing and soothing it with gentled lips, nipping and sampling continuously, inch by inch, as the blood smears itself all over her comely features and again reveals them more clearly.

And for the first time I can see her tongue, which formerly was buried in between DeMonica's shapely thighs. It's unusually long and supple, muscular and capable of incredible feats of acrobatics. She seems to exercise as much willful control over its wandering tip as with a finger.

Her bloodied face is defined by an impish mischievousness, but tinted with more than a bit of wickedness as well. I begin to wonder how much of her magnanimous benevolence might actually be illusion, designed to lure the wounded into her lair..

But we have no choice really, and we do have Sera's word that the nymph is closely related to our Amazon warrior, which goes some way toward setting my heart at ease. Without her healing ministrations at this point our expedition would surely be doomed and thus the entire world of DV - sacrificed to Saffron's terrible spider minions and the Black Queen's transformative whims and predatory temperament.

Not only does the blood vanish from his pale skin as she progresses, presumably licked up by her wondrous tongue, but the visible bruises themselves evaporate in the same way! She literally seems to be licking and nibbling away his very wounds!! And he to be enjoying the process immensely and quiveringly.

It approaches culmination now - his arms tensing and pressing hard against her head, mashing it wantonly against his breast, she lashing and masticating violently now against his flesh, and he trembling and gasping, utterly lost to the world surrounding him and entranced entire into her tongues artful salvings.

Suddenly he collapses like a string-cut puppet, eyes closed and smiling privately like the cat that ate the canary. She draws back grinning impishly, repeating the wiping gesture of her wrist against blood-smeared face. This time she sinks slowly into the pool, meeting my eyes fetchingly for a brief moment.

*Character Notes Eri_Belle*

inspiration for water droplets delineating the figure


Tongue inspiration


.. And that's it!! No face, hence the invisible woman thing. We have no idea what Erii looks like, though it's reported she is beauteous indeed. Still we wonder and dream...

* Slight edit:

Added 3 lines to the end of the last section:

Suddenly he collapses like a string-cut puppet, eyes closed and smiling privately like the cat that ate the canary. She draws back grinning impishly, repeating the wiping gesture of her wrist against blood-smeared face.

She laughs, and in the fairy bell tinkling sound I recognize instantly the connectedness with DeMonica.

"Another satisfied customer." she boasts teasingly. "Feels good to be healed, doesn't it?"

Xey fails to respond, still lost in her spell, draped nervelessly and twitching every now and then.

This time she sinks slowly into the pool, meeting my eyes fetchingly for a brief moment.

(greyed lines at top and bottom are still the same as before, just including them for reference).

Next comes King Diddy. Hs wounding is internal and still entirely mysterious, for he hasn't shared a hint of it with us.

He lifts up the hem of his long pink satin gown to his chest, in the process revealing a pair of snug pink Hello Pony panties that draw an involuntary snicker from me.

Unerringly the nymph's knowing mouth seeks the solar plexus area in the notch under the ribcage - the very spot he's been nursing so sorely for days now.

With unexpected results.

Rather than the blissful spasms she's drawn from the others this time she elicits only pained groans that increase in volume and severity until she withdraws, concerned.

"What hast been done to thee sir?" She gasps, shocked at whatever she's discovered.

"I don't know." He groans, clutching convulsively now at his midsection and bending double in obvious agony. "I know only that I woke one day with a dull ache there as of something precious torn away - some vital part of myself stolen. And it's been growing worse as time goes by. If you're unable to heal me of this terrible affliction then I don't believe I can continue, and must end this foolhardy quest here and now, and rid myself of this pain-wrought life I can no longer bear."

In lieu of an answer she again pushes her head against his ribcage and tongue-probes deftly. He fights it momentarily, grasping her hair and trying to pull her pretty head away, but then she hits a sweet spot and he emits a pleasured moan and relaxes into the treatment.

This session is not like the others - it results not in clasping writhing pleasure, but seems more exploratory in nature, as if she's sounding him out, feeling about for something. And he's not so much squirming in admixed bliss and torment like the others as allowing it tentatively.

She pulls away sobered and serious.

"I fear t'was your very soul stolen sir. Your anima. There's naught I can do but charge thee with some degree of pleasure to mask the pain for a time, which should allow your expedition to continue at least."

And without waiting for a response she moves in, presses her invisible lips against his dark-painted ones and plies him almost savagely with a deep probing kiss that forces his head back against straining wicker. She mounts higher above him, taking the advantage, and presses harder into his welcoming mouth. Both her hands clasp his head gently now, and his in turn clasp hers.

Damn that is some amazing kiss!! Just seeing it is enough to fill my heart with gladness, though it causes sore strainings elsewhere that are rapidly approaching the unbearable. Only moments though till I as well am healed.

Is this story cursed?

It seems each time I bring another DV female into it she immediately posts on Rant and Rave about horrible depression and suicidal feelings.

Nah, I guess it's more because the ones I'm writing about happen to be depressive and suicidal to begin with. Weird though - why is it that these are the coolest females on DV? Or is it just me?

When next the water nymph emerges Xey is still heaped senseless across his chair, though no longer twitching, and Diddy stares morosely into the depths of the sparkling pool, one hand absently teasing about the contours of his mouth - obviously remembering and savoring the exquisite pleasures bestowed by that singularly stupefying kiss, while the other presses against the solar plexus, as if attempting forlornly to hold back what is already gone. He doesn't seem to know or to care that his gown is still pulled up round his chest.

DeMonica is beginning to stir now, lifting her pretty head to seek about as if bewildered. Immediately she checks her wounded inner thigh, rubbing over the spot with an unbelieving hand, only to find flesh seamlessly restored and blood entire gone.

Straight to her drifts the nymph, arms outstretched. And welcomingly does the Amazon lay back and part her legs to once again receive the wondrous healing touch. Serafiend begins removing the remaining bandages, briefly touching each rapturously to her mouth before piling them on the grottos floor, carpeted thickly with lush green moss.

I help with the remaining few as the treatment begins, attempting to spare myself the sweet torment watching brings, but even then the sounds alone work their magic and rapture and agony once again rise turgidly in me, hopelessly intertwined like serpents locked in death struggle or sweet embrace, for who can truly tell them apart?

Presently Eri unzips and downfolds beyond the knees the tops of each of DeMonica's thigh-high leather boots to allow unrestricted access to all her grievous wounds. The ivory skin of her right leg, as well as inside of rightmost boot, are disastrously stained with copious blood, which the nymph washes away gently with handfuls of water.

Then Sera finishes unzipping and removing DeMonica's blood-filled right boot, and I remove the other, which is slightly stained though not nearly drenched like its mate. We wash them in the surging pool, thick clouds of dark blood billowing beneath Sera's reflected face. With no brushes or rags available we simply scrub bare-handed, then lay them wide open for drying as the treatment nears its climactic conclusion.

For this the nymph gently removes the smoothly contoured metal breast plate to lave and sooth the bruises beneath it. She cups both hands beneath DeMonica's small but firm breasts and slides them upwards, pushing away the white bandeau top but covering what it concealed at the same time, casting a wicked glance my way as she does. And it could be only my imagination, but it seems Demonica as well smiles at me from behind slitted eyes.

Another straining swollen millimeter the pain rises, threatening to burst at any moment now, and becoming all but unendurable. It's driving me relentlessly mad. And now the worst part by far is the dull, weighted ache compressing everything unbearably. But knowing salvation is within reach at last I grit my teeth, stoically try to suppress as many of the groans as possible, and enjoy the remainder of the show.

Walking the dog, then I expect to make one more post tonight before sacking out. Gunna be epic!

I hadn't read anything since 2 days ago, came to this page and saw this:

From gentle nuzzlings and probings the ministrations become more emphatic and strenuous. Eri's slender invisible arms wrap around DeMonica's thighs to hold her firmly

But it turned out to only be a metaphor for what I thought it was.

Anyway I like how you've brought Erii in, not knowing what she looks like.

Lol I know - another chapter where I continually have to ask myself "Did I really just post that??! "

It continues to amaze me that the people I'm doing this to keep Liking it. At certain times I thought surely someone would get offended and angry and demand that I stop or remove them from the story. But so far so good. Keeping my metaphorical fingers crossed.

Now Xey has roused and seems chipper and animated like I haven't seen him since way back in chapter 10 or so, and DeMonica as well exhibits a beaming overflow of bliss. I envy them both this sweet pleasure and look forward patiently to attaining relief and sweet bliss myself.

Poor king Diddy seems to be torn. He's no longer despairing like he was moments ago - the nymph's magical kiss filled him near to satiation with a contented felicity, but it combats the utter woefulness of his sundered soul and leaves him morose and distant, eyes searching ceaselessly the depths of the swirling pool - though he has finally settled his gown more properly about his narrow frame.

"I fear I can do nothing for the zombie" Eri contends. "She requires not healing but transformation, which is regrettably beyond my ken."

Her eyes fall now on me and she begins to drift toward me smiling graciously. Unable to repress a deep sigh of relief I begin to unbuckle my belt, at which she stops short with an affronted glare. I catch a pained grimace from Sera as the nymph backpedals angrily from me to the opposite side of the pool.

"Ah sorry, I should have told you" Sera whispers, "Nymphs are gracious and beneficent to a fault, but also jealous and easily offended creatures, and having once offended one you'll not win back her favor again short of some miracle. Trust me, by far your best bet at this point is to zip it and bear up and hope she doesn't see fit to punish you in any way. Her punishments are world renowned for cruelty."


Somewhere partway through that my mind quite simply stopped functioning. What this little cannibal girl is saying is utterly unacceptable.

There's a brief flurry of agitated motion in the pool - flashing arms, spraying water, a voice raised in anger saying things I refuse to believe it's saying. There follows a voice that must be mine which is answering her, but mostly with pained whimpers and groans and sobs interspersed with begging and pleading, at the end of which I find myself on my knees with tears streaming down my face, pain still unabated.

In my trance of misery I unbelievingly watch DeMonica wave the nymph over and spin around, revealing her lean supple back and indicating the reddened and inflamed lower portions of it with a wave.

No this is not happening. Dear god no. But it is.

While I'm left simmering in misery and nursing my agonized wounds without relief, the nymph now begins to lick and nibble gently at DeMonica's sore lower back - cause and other half of my own unhealed wounds. She delicately removes the Amazon's sword belt and chain mesh miniskirt stripping her down now to nothing but the white thong and bandeau top, and casting occasional sidelong glances at me with a wicked gleam in her eye that strikes into me like barbed arrow points.

Without realizing how I find myself standing facing the dripping stone wall of the grotto and gently and repeatedly banging my forehead against it, a single long drawn out sobbing groan escaping entirely without my volition.

*notes*

Oh damn! Woe is poor me-dude!!

When I'm finished with this what I'll have is a rough draft - a very rough one, which I'll then subject to several brutal sessions of editing and polishing and proofreading and eventually end up (hopefully) with a final draft.

I've played very fast and loose with style throughout - just going with whatever I feel like on a given day, resulting in some weird inconsistencies - for instance at times my writing is very matter-of-fact and everyday, and then I went through that whole Dante inspired thing, and now I'm grooving on some kind of proto-Shakespearian influence or some such. That's because from the beginning I approached this as just a fun project - if I ever started to think of it as an actual story I think it would become cumbersome and I'd lose interest in it - so I approach it improvisationally from day to day, which makes it fun and free-flowing. Not sure how I'll handle that in the final draft - probably keep it like it is for the most part with subtle little changes to improve the flow.

And I'm considering doing a cover painting and some interior illustrations for it as well - probably on my newly-ordered (but gently used) graphics tablet. Don't worry, I won't be trying to capture anyone's likeness, I hate doing that and I suck at it anyway! So the characters will be sort of generic visually I guess.

But I'm also considering turning it into a print-on-demand book - of course assuming lots of variables fall into place between now and then including my actually finishing it and editing it and doing said illustrations etc. For now just dreaming ahead. And if I do end up doing this it wouldn't be for any kind of profit - I don't imagine it would sell more than a handful of copies mostly to those of us who are in it (hell I'll probably order a stack of them for myself!)

Anywho, just dreaming ahead like I said... don't hold me to it.

Teaser for the new chapter which begins tomorrow:

Just as DeMonica faced her own personal hell that beckoned irresistibly to her (the forest of GrynHavoc and So_Mee) - my character is about to face his, but where as she had all of us to help save her, I must face mine utterly alone, grievously wounded and deeply suicidal. And soaking wet.

Ok, time for Beddy-Bye!

*notes*

I know I mentiond that writing is like animating to some extent (didn't I?) - that stringing words together one after another is like laying down a Yellow Brick Road one brick at a time and occasionally looking up to see where you are.

That part of it is like stopmotion, which is done "straight ahead" - you can only shoot frame after frame and what you lay down is exactly what you end up with - there's no going back in and making changes the way you can in CGI or drawn animation.

But while writing begins "straight ahead" editing allows secondary animation.

Example - I feel bad because I haven't done anything with Xey for many chapters in a row now - he's just sort of 'been there', with nothing to say or do, and how long since he did any awesome acrobatics?

So when I edit, I'll do a 'second pass' on his character and animate it some. In fact I somehow forgot to put in his whole ordeal - he was supposed to suffer from extreme anger issues that start breaking him down. Now I can do that.

Ok sorry, sometimes I can't help but wax a bit philosophical on these artistic parallels.

Haven't you thought about putting some parts of your notes in the story and some of the characters' comments too?

Interesting you should say that. Actually I've decided that the comments are an integral part of the story itself. If I do create a print-on-demand book they will be included just as they are here, maybe with some removed.

But really I consider the notes and the commentary to be separate, like a commentary track and deleted scenes etc on a DVD - you know, extra material for those interested, covering the behind-the-scenes creation process.

Not sure exactly how I'd present the notes in the final version - possibly as numbered referenced at the end of the book or something, some might just be included as comments the way they are here.

Anyway, thank you for asking!

18

Blueberry

Running out. Right through the waterfall. Not waiting for a doorway to open. Not caring. Out into the meadow and dropping heavily onto a large flat white stone some distance from the sleeping dragon.

Numb.

Unable to think.

They emerge, curious about me - but laughing and happy. DeMonica carrying all her armour and Xey her boots and sword belt.

Staring.

Blank.

Empty.

This pain cannot be - it's too strong and if it exists if destroys me.

It cannot be.

So nothing is.

Dizzy.

Wavering.

Words. Some at me some from me. Concern.

Then it's past.

Diddy plunks down beside me on the flat rock staring into the bright sparkling water of the brook. They're running and laughing in the sweet breeze. Running and laughing and rolling in green grass and yellow and purple flowers singly and together. Laughing and frolicking.

None of it can touch me through my misery.

Walking now. Staggering. Not knowing where - not caring. Needing to get away.

Drifting forward - following the curving edge of the stream which bends slowly to follow the edge of the dark forest. Till it shuts out the laughing and the rolling and the running and the frolicking.

Still walking - numb.

Tormented.

Soaking wet. Hair and clothes drenched from my plunge through the waterfall. Sausages slipping from around my neck - only 3 left now, not enough to carry this way. I tuck one into my belt and walk on, letting them bang against my leg. It's good to at last lose that weight from my shoulder, but the shirt is ruined with grease and my skin will never feel clean.

Walking.

I can't face it anymore. The endless burning pain. The raging jealousy. I'd rather sink forever into this hell, fling myself headlong and heedless into the next torment I come across. At least it would end this ceaseless misery.

And there before me stands the ornate stone gazebo I saw from the air.

Its reflection leaping and dancing beneath it. It actually stands on a small island, and there's a stepping-stone path leading to it.

I'm on the stones before I wonder why. Drawn inexorably nearer.

There are people in the gazebo - laughing and waving to me. Happy. Eager. Singing now.

3 women, all beautiful.

The gazebo is much larger than it looked from the air, and incredibly ornate - all vaulted arches carved with images of nymphs at play and men - sailors - playing with them.

Finally emerging from its pall my heart swells. Here is joy for me. Happiness. Here I can immerse myself forever into it and not have to face the pain again.

Their singing is immeasurably sweet - fit for the gods. So sweet my heart almost can't bear it.

Tears are flowing down my face - not sorrow now, not entirely joy - just simply release. Emotional release from the misery and numbness.

I walk on, sometimes stepping on stones sometimes in shallow water, not caring.

They welcome me with hugs and sweet kisses all over my face and neck. I can't remember anything ever feeling as sweet. They kiss away my tears and speak sweetly to me, soothing me. They promise to take away the pain. The pain - how do they know about the pain? But they do.

One has thick black hair and sassy glasses that only increase her allure. She tells me her name is Tarara_Boomdiay. One is slender and blonde with long flowing hair huge doe eyes and thick sensual lips but a cruel cast to her face. This also only serves to increase her appeal. She tells me her name is MaryTheMare. They're both arrayed in black leather and latex fetish wear studded with metal.

The third one is petite - compact with an achingly pretty face and long brunette hair and huge blue wings like a Victoria's Secret Angel. She's wearing only lacy white lingerie - tanga panties and a pushup demi bra and nothing else. Everything about her is soft and pretty and sweet.

This one tells me her name is Blueberry.

Originally Posted by Darkmatters

Not sure exactly how I'd present the notes in the final version - possibly as numbered referenced at the end of the book or something, some might just be included as comments the way they are here.

And I'm not sure how...

*Notes*

I've come to realize that, while the story is still the same - saving DV from Saffron and Neener's evil machinations, a subtext has emerged that's gradually become more important. It's essentially my personal psycho-sexual Odyssey.

Originally Posted by sinoblak

And I'm not sure how...

It will be presented as a story being written part by part on a message board called DreamViews by a person known as Darkmatters...

This is completely viable in today's electronic media age - people won't even flinch at a device like that.

** edit **

Ok, I notice the eye-rolling smiley now - I think I missed some irony there...