Thread: Passing Strange

Couldn'ta said it better myself

Though I don't think it's done so much from homosexual desire as simply to dominate and humiliate.

*Character Notes Blueberry*

Originally posted by Raspberry on DV Chat Quotes thread:

You missed the whole epic ramble about my so called penis. Let me find it and insert it here (see wut i did thar)

[23:01] <Raspberry> my penis
[23:01] <Raspberry> is huge
[23:01] <Raspberry> girls love it
[23:02] <Raspberry> and guys
[23:02] <Raspberry> and my hand
[23:02] <Raspberry> everyone in fact
[23:02] <Raspberry> it CREATES love
[23:02] <Raspberry> love is created by my penis
[23:03] <+TheGhostwhoneverlies^> penis don't create love
[23:03] <Raspberry> it's been decided
[23:03] <+TheGhostwhoneverlies^> vaginas do
[23:03] <&ChickWave> whoa there raspberry
[23:03] <&ChickWave> CALM
[23:03] <&ChickWave> DOWN
[23:03] <+TheGhostwhoneverlies^> Penis's create war
[23:03] <&ChickWave> shane CALM
[23:03] <&ChickWave> DOWN
[23:03] <Fazap> raspberry, in ur dreams as well?
[23:03] <A^Chixxor> rasp's pen0r
[23:03] <+TheGhostwhoneverlies^> did you say clam?
[23:03] <A^Chixxor> good topic, let's hear more
[23:03] <+TheGhostwhoneverlies^> lol
[23:03] <Raspberry> fapfapforever, my penis is like the size of a city in my dreams
[23:03] <Raspberry> girls love it
[23:03] <Raspberry> and guys
[23:03] <Raspberry> and my hand
[23:04] <Raspberry> though i need to make my hand bigger too

*Notes - Island of IRC *

Originally posted by Darkmatters on N33wbies to chatz000r thread:

IRC is the dark underbelly of DV. If DV is a mind, IRC is the subconscious Shadow, where the dark stuff lurks. You see people's other side in there... smart people act all goofy, politically correct people curse out minorities - all in fun. It's freakin Halloweenland! It's an inverted mirror image of the message board itself. And it's strangely liberating to be in there and go with the flow of it for a while. A place like that is necessary and amazing, but you should understand its nature when going in. I was a bit shocked my first time.

News on the nieghborhood wolf situation:

Dammit - I was gonna walk Pepper in the daytime but I went to take a nap and slept till almost 4:00 and it was already dark before we could go!! It had just finished raining hard and was all foggy. Immediately when we hit the street I got the song "There's a Bad Moon on the Rise" in my head and couldn't stop thinking about American Werewolf in London.

This time I was carrying a black metal telescoping pole of some sort as a weapon (last time I carried a 2x2, which was really uncomfortable on my hand). It felt pretty weird walking around carrying a club, and most of the nieghbors probably still don't know about the wolf (though I told the mailman yesterday, and he was pretty freaked out - he might have mentioned it to a few).

But I did have a bit of an idea of what it might be if it's not a wolf. I could not for the life of me think of anybody nearby who has a wolflike dog that's light colored like that, and neither could the mailman (he would definitely know!).

Until I remembered, there's a house up the street where they recently got a new dog, which does look rather wolfish and is the right size. They let it run loose too, though I've never seen it outside of their yard before.

So I need to ask them if it ever leaves the yard.If it does I"ll feel a whole lot better and can stop keeping my dog a prisoner most of the time and carrying weapons out on the street...

fuckfuckfuck

Just talked to the neighbor and his wife said what she saw was DEFINITELY a wolf.

Fuck. Just when I was starting to feel better about it.

"Well" Diddy breaks in, trying to ignore the violent and noisy canine rape in progress behind us, "I've come in search of something that was stolen from me and I believe it was brought here."

The mountainous man shoots us a grimace of hurt indignation.

"Nuttin' I got is stole. It was all arrived at legit."

"Ah of course!" Diddy exclaims brightly. "I apologize good sir - I didn't mean to imply otherwise. Perhaps I could simply find a suitable - replacement - here amid your stockpile of - vintage goods!"

"Well help yerselves gentlemen. Mi casa su casa."

Diddy begins to rummage, looking around exasperated at the massive piles of trash. This is going to be some chore.

"Um, what're we looking for?" I ask. "Go a lot quicker if I help."

Just then the tumultuous upheaval behind us reaches a brutal conclusion with a shrill squeal from the dog and a fierce gutteral grunting growl from the blue werewolf. Blueberry whirls, abandoning the pit bull who is left trembling and whimpering softly over and over, and sniffs Diddy tentatively. He freezes in panic. But she merely turns and starts casting about the murky interior, sniffing here and there until she seems to locate something. She transforms into her angelic blue-winged human self and points prettily.

"See, I told you I'd be useful!"

Diddy moves a few toasters and a cracked crock pot and pulls up a ragged old beat-up accordion, which stretches alarmingly as he tries to separate it from its resting place. The wood is worn heavily, dark with skin oils at the handgrips, and the cloth bellows torn and patched with silver duct tape.

"That's it?" I breathe. "A crappy old accordion? Lucy is an accordion??!!"

He dislodges a small avalanche of debris in freeing it, but suddenly it comes loose with an off-key wheezing carnival sound. He loops the strap around his neck and settles its hefty bulk against his slim chest. I notice it fits right against the area he was ceaselessly probing and clutching most of the way here - right over the solar plexus.

"No - not Lucy. This is just an accordion. Dear boy, what ever made you think this was my Lucy?"

"Oh, well I don't know - it was just a guess. But it does fit right there on your chest, where you kept grabbing, and you know - people name their instruments. Wasn't there some blues man who had an old guitar made from plywood that he named Lucy?"

"It was BB King, and it was named Lucille! And I warned you didn't I - you're coming dangerously close to Bo Diddly territory now! Just back off Scaredy Cat!" His look shoots daggers at me.

"So - who or what IS Lucy then?" I ask perplexed. "You've been moaning that name the whole way here.. "

His eyes drop to the floor, or as close to it as anything can get in here. He seems to be thinking for a moment.

"I'm not exactly sure." He announces. "I just started saying it recently when I have one of my - attacks. The pain becomes unbearable - right here" He rubs a hand against his chest beneath the accordion "and suddenly I'm seeing a face - beautiful beyond measure - illuminated - and incredibly sad. I just know her name is Lucy, and that she's like a part of me. But I've never seen her before. No idea who she is."

Blueberry steps toward him and he flinches away involuntarily. She smiles reassuringly and delicately places a small gentle hand under the accordion.

"Sirens are very closely related to water nymphs." She explains "We're all descended from Diana originally. We have the empathetic power to feel out and understand pain - the Nymphs to heal it and the Sirens to exploit it."

His mouth drops open in shock and he stumbles back a half-step.

"Don't worry - I gave up that gig for good. My heart wasn't really in it. I want to go see the big city, ya know?" Nightmare apocalyptic visions begin unfolding transparently before my eyes. "See what there is there for a girl to do. Anyway I got no reason to harm you. We're allies now. At least until I can really lay into some more of that amazing sausage!" She licks her lips hungrily.

He begins to breathe again, but shallowly, still looking quite worried. I probably do too - I just watched her dismember two more of her own kind over a silly workplace dispute.

"Yeah - Lucy is your soul. Your Muse. It's been torn out. Got any enemies with the power to do that?"

His face grows gradually dark and angry.

"Neener!" He spits. "That spiteful bitch!! I thought she had already taken everything from me, but I didn't know she had done THIS!!" We watch as hatred seethes slowly on his face.

He starts walking fast toward the door, heedlessly lifts off and throws down the dented Tiara and the soiled string of pearls.

"Hey Whoah there!" Burzy calls, lifting his massive hand again, his forearm as thick as my thigh. "About payment.."

I drop the empty water jugs and turn to follow Diddy out the door. Blueberry moves with me, but the pit bull lifts its head tentatively and she instantly transforms into a wolf and lunges at him. He whimpers and rolls over submissively to expose his tender underparts, and with one quick nip she shears off his testicles. Then she transforms back and smiles brilliantly, swallows very deliberately two times, and pats her belly appreciatively.

"Mmmm - mmm! Should really have got him neutered anyway. He'll behave himself a lot better now."

"Oh.. well.. ok then" Burzy mutters as we walk out. "I guess we're good."

Finally!!

We're done on the island of IRC!!

Yep folks, that's it. All the trouble, travails and turmoil was just for that accordion.


When I re-read the last chapter for about the 12th time (heh) I noticed the parallels between the Raspy_Sleeper and Burzy scenes - basically they're both hoarders (though one of valuable treasure and the other of junk) and their domicile/treasure room is guarded by a vicious dog. (Well ok, that's actually the only part I wasn't already consciously aware of to be honest). I guess Cerberus/DV Watchdog got the better end of that deal - he got a little dirt thrown in his faces and got to eat some of the apparently delicious (to carnivorous or cannibalistic beings) O Sausage - where as Burzy's poor pit bull got savagely ass-raped by a werewolf and then lost his meatballs.


Lol remember so long ago when I said the story was probably about 3/4 of the way over? Heh yeah... I know - I had no idea the whole IRC section was going to run so loooong!! But we're nearing the conclusion now, promise!!

Next stop (after a brief interlude) Castle Neener for the big showdown.

Also another appearance by Zha_Zha and her Amazing Ass (and her donkey too). Cat and mouse games with Queen Neener. Stay tuned!

And only your neighbour's wife has seen the wolf? She may have been bored... most probably.

To the story, I like it better and better. Expect a great battle is to take place. It was pitiful last night, I went to bed without having read something new of it. But this morning was great!

I am still amazed how those perverted and violent characters (females, especially) may sound so close to the reader. Haven't found the reason yet. They all look and act like reversed males, never being definitely feminine. May be because they are experiences, not the usual characters in a fictional story. And all the better.

Originally Posted by sinoblak

Fits well with your avatar.

You liked the post before reading the improvements. Hahaha!

Originally Posted by sinoblak

And only your neighbour's wife has seen the wolf? She may have been bored... most probably.

Yes, as far as I know she's the only one who's seen it, other than me, and I can't be sure exactly what I saw - it was either a wolf or a very wolfish dog that was roaming the neighborhood. Plus those same neighbors lost a cat recently and no trace of it was ever found. But as her husband says, soon the leaves will all be down and we'll be able to see very clearly deep into the woods and people will see it if there is a wolf.

Originally Posted by sinoblak

To the story, I like it better and better. Expect a great battle is to take place. It was pitiful last night, I went to bed without having read something new of it. But this morning was great!

I am still amazed how those perverted and violent characters (females, especially) may sound so close to the reader. Haven't found the reason yet. They all look and act like reversed males, never being definitely feminine. May be because they are experiences, not the usual characters in a fictional story. And all the better.

Lol no, none of the female characters are very feminine. Nor are the males very masculine, except for O. I'm basically playing around with lots of variations on gender-bending. Heh - I've said several times now that it's not only the females who are powerful and sexualized - but then in thinking about it, I had to facepalm. Aside from O, I guess it's true!! I mean, King Diddy does have some power, but then he's half female himself, and that's probably why. My character and Xey's are pretty wishy-washy and seem to get pushed around pretty easily. Burzy seems like a strong male character, but his role was so small we can't really tell. Plus in a sense his dog was a surrogate for him (when its face appeared in the shotgun hole in the door there was a moment of confusion when it seems like this might be the human occupant - or at least that's what I was aiming for). So when Blueberry got annoyed at his dog for being so aggressive and raped/castrated it, she was essentially doing it to him - symbolically of course. It's as if she walked in and sensed his masculine power and decided she had to take it for herself.

And it did shut him up, didn't it?

21

Alex

MaryTheMare: Well that's nice - I'm a man-hating castrating feminazi, and then I died right away? What the fuck. Seriously.

Waitwut - I saw you torn to bits right before my eyes! How are you..

MaryTheMare: Oh come on! I was trying to tolerate this sexist garbage, but you've set the women's movement back a good 50 years! You're lucky I don't know where you live asshole - I'm sitting here playing with a pair of pruning shears right now..

Wait - I'm sorry - you're fading out. I'm drifting away from the computer screen..

MaryTheMare: Oh. Ok. Whatever..

I'm drifting away from the computer screen. And I'm back in a very familiar room - the small Canadian apartment that apparently belongs to Alex (whoever that is). He must be the small man in lederhosen drooped so sullenly on the sofa, head in hands as if he's crying.

Nothing has changed. Well basically. Their positions might be slightly different - the man's anyway - the tall busty Nordic woman in the Valkyrie helmet and the Oktoberfest bierhalle girl costume seems to be seated exactly as she was in my previous vision. And the scattered remnants of a huge German knockwurst and sauerkraut feast still litter the apartment.

The biggest change is that it's daylight outside the window now - no aurora coruscating across the sky. Just harsh sunlight glaring off snow and ice.

Suddenly a shadow moves across that glare - something outside the window. It drops from above and smashes directly through the glass, lands inside. Its a man dressed in a black ninja costume, including the balaclava head covering that only reveals eyes and bridge of the nose. He whips off the balaclava and throws it on the floor, revealing short reddish-brown hair. It's Nunya, the ferryboat pilot.

"Alex!" He shouts angrily.

The small sad man on the sofa lifts his head - rather slowly I think, all things considered. His eyes are red-rimmed, tear-streaked.

"Oh god Ninja.. " he blubbers, with the air of a man confessing to a terrible murder. "I didn't.. I couldn't.. You can't possibly understand - she was.. "

Instantly the woman sitting at the laptop computer in the kitchen goes into action. She moves silently to the counter. Flows would be the right word I think - her grace and stealth are uncanny - and pulls a butcher knife from the wooden block, takes aim to throw it at the intruder.

But he's quicker. He has something already in his hand that he points toward her and she freezes. It's a small remote control, sleek and grey, arrayed with lots of colorful buttons.

And its now that I see the woman has not been sitting in a chair - she was crouching there behind the table - unmoving - apparently for many hours - possibly days.

* * *

I'm in a different room. A spacious apartment that must be located in Castle Neener. It's a living room space. Standing in the center of it is SaffronAxe, resplendent in her Gypsy dress and holding both hands against her bosom.

In her upturned palms crawl three large spiders - about the size of tarantulas. These aren't the same as the ones I witnessed in the other vision - the horrifying one where spiders merged with severed human torsos - those were black whereas these are grey and patterned with black markings like tiger stripes.

They're moving rapidly in her cupped hands - crawling and tumbling over each other - as if they're playing. And she's smiling down upon them - for all the world like a proud mother.

One crawls up onto her dress - into her long black hair which is bound into two thick braids - and then I begin to see the others. In her hair - on her dress - her arms, her shoulders - just about covering every available inch of her body in fact. Crawling all over each other.

One falls off onto the floor - and then I notice they're covering the floor as well. Nearly every inch of it. And the furniture too. The entire room is writhing with them.

And they're growing.

Suddenly, moving almost as one - they begin to disperse - to move outward - flowing up and out through open windows and open doors into the Castle proper..

* * *

"My life has been so horrible - " Alex blubbers, his entire face wet "I missed the Motherland so much - you can't understand!!"

Nunya steps to the frozen woman, knocks off the Valkyrie helmet with disgust and lifts off the blonde wig to reveal short brown hair beneath it.

"For a displaced German Canada is a hell! Moosehead - hockey - the ridiculous accent!! I so badly miss the Alps - the quaint little villages - the FOOD!"

Nunya fiddles briefly with the buttons on his remote and the woman's eyes change from blue to brown.

"And the beer! The dopplebocks and lagers... Canadian beer is scheisse!!"

Another few buttons pressed in sequence and the woman's immense cleavage deflates considerably.

"And then she showed up. I had no idea who she was... I've never seen Ninjabot before, you know that. At first I thought I was dreaming. Her accent - and she spricht perfekt Deutsch.. "

Nunya shoots him a pained look, jabs a few more times at the remote presumably to re-adjust her accent.

"And she had cartons and cartons of beer, and sausages - and sauerkraut - and CDs... "

"What did you do?" Nunya hisses. ".. what did you do.. "

The little man closes his eyes for a long moment - unable to face the harsh truth he must now reveal. But then he swallows hard, walks to the kitchen table, pulls up the chair which was pushed into the corner, and sits before the laptop computer.

"It was just a game she said - a fun game. Everybody would have such a great laugh."

Nunya (or is it Ninja?) puches in another combination of keystrokes, looks perplexed when nothing happens, and then grasps Nunyabot's (Ninjabot's?) thick floor-length skirt and yanks it off in one jerk. Both men stare, shocked at what is revealed. Not a pair of well-engineered robotic legs covered with silicone skin to match the rest of her body, but eight spindly and obviously mechanical ones.

".. a spiderbot.. " he breathes.

He lifts up the edge of her peasant blouse to reveal crude welds where the lower half was joined to the torso. The silicone flesh of her human half is raggedly torn and partially melted and blackened below the waist.

Nunya drops to a knee, rubs a hand over the damage in disbelief and shock.

"Nunyabot!!! What's been done to you!?? Who did this??!!"

Also staring in disbelief but determined to finish his confession, Alex continues:

"She.. she made me change the names. All of them. One by one. We had such fun coming up with new ones that sound similar. Everyone will love it she promised - and she massaged my aching shoulders while I did it. It took all night. We didn't bother with inactive members, just the current ones."

"What else?" Nunya demands, staring icily at him. "There has to be more. It isn't just the names."

"No - at first that's all it was - I swear! But by that time I was getting really drunk. And she put Wagner on!! Flight of the Valkyrie!! And then Polka - we danced... oh it was vunderbar!"

".. And?"

"And.. then she took over. I was getting woozy anyway - she helped me onto the couch. But I saw her pull the chair back and then - sit - somehow. I didn't understand - it must be because of the spider legs. But she never touched the keyboard. Just looked at the screen. Silent and motionless like a - a machine."

"Yeah, she doesn't need to use keys." Nunya cuts in. "Her hands are outfitted with retractable USB connections - she just lays them on the table beside it and jacks right in, gets complete access at a programming level."

"Yes - I realized it must be something like that at one point when I got up and staggered in here to talk to her - but she just ignored me. She was just staring at the screen and - things were happening there - really fast. I couldn't understand what she was doing. I tried to stop her - but nothing worked. And then the look she gave me - the terrible threats!"

"I'll tell you what she was doing." Ninja turns and fixes him with a hard stare. "She was hacking into the database. Re-writing the code.. "

"She was re-programming DV.

"Now come on - we got our work cut out for us. We need to fix it."

22

Return Journey

I come back groggily to my senses - I suppose all the exertion and strain of the last few hours made me pass out again.

I find myself astride Raspy_Sleeper - high in the air and in full flight. DeMonica's strong arms are locked around me from behind, forcing me against someone's back - it's Xey, and beyond him Zombie-Muffin. But she seems calm as she generally is when seated. Incidentally I reflect that the dragon has temporarily become her tuffin.


Before her sits King Diddy. Only vaguely do I recall climbing aboard the dragon earlier - and it was with a lot of help from DeMonica. I was already nearing unconsciousness even then.

I look around but don't see Blueberry or Serafiend anywhere. I know Serafiend never agreed to accompany us, but I was getting used to the little cannibal girl's company - she had saved us many times on the hellish island, which is now unscrolling rapidly below us. Blueberry was supposed to accompany us - and I had hoped she would join in the fight, but I suppose the decision is hers, and in a way I feel safer without her along - as nice and friendly as her personality is, she's got a terrifying vicious streak and seems to think nothing of dismembering or devouring someone she was happily conversing with moments ago. It's frightening to think about what really lurks behind that pretty smile and lacy white lingerie.

King Diddy looks back at us, black wig streaming in the wind, and points down. Far below lies the Burning Field, cherry red from here, and we're skirting widely around the massive column of black smoke. I can smell charring flesh. And it might be only my imagination, but I seem to hear wailing lamenting voices carried faintly on the roaring wind.

Diddy's head swivels around to look over the other side of the dragon. I do the same, and there lies the broad deep trench where malformed, ill-tempered giants rage and tear at each other and are tormented by fire-breathing serpents lashing them with spiked tails. Now it almost seems I can hear their crashing titanic din just faintly. No, surely it's only my overwrought imagination.

DeMonica's smoothly contoured breastplate presses a bit harder against my back and she puts her chin on my shoulder, her cheek laid against mine gently. It's a warm gesture, I suppose an apology for some of the things her false pettiness and anger forced her to do on that terrible island. I press my cheek gently against hers in return - an apology of my own. We're just one big flying group hug.

Now Xey points - there's the clearing where we first met Serafiend - and now it's writhing with dozens of small black shapes in convulsive motion - Harpies violently devouring the bodies of their fallen sisters.

Moments later we're over the beach and the tinted-glass and stone visitor's station/souvenir shop. And lo and behold - there on the yellow beach stand the blue-furred Rasp-Antlers and his sidekick the young Asian Fore_Skinzie, waving pleasantly at us. We all wave in return - all except Muffin, and then the island is behind us.

Now only whirling seething mist lies below. And more of the same ahead - in moments we plunge into it and visibility becomes nil. But still the dragon's mighty wings beat indefatigably and on we soar into the gathering gloom.

Toward Castle Neener and the final confrontation.

Lol. In my head, Alex's lines are read in the voice of Dr Richtofen from Call of Duty. It's all so hilarious!

Oh man, I've been busy playing with my new tablet ever since it came in yesterday - but I knew if I lost my momentum on the story it would be hard to get it back, and I didn't want to let 2 full days go by with no writing, so I reluctantly closed Photoshop, put away the tablet, and opened my story document.

I laid my finger on a key, looked at it for a while, and eventually pressed it.

Then another, and another.

Soon I was typing up a storm again.

The result follows.

The dragon had set us down about 3 miles from the castle, where he wouldn't be spotted. He's now sound asleep and we've walked back to the rear stable gate we had left through the day before.

It's unlocked, so we simply walk in.

We halloo quietly, trying to raise the stable boy, but he doesn't seem to be around. Until we step into the large stable where Xey and I spied on the beginning of Zha_Zha's pole dance.

"What's wrong with 'im?" Xey breathes.

He's just standing in the center of the room staring into an empty corner. The stallion he had been grooming yesterday is laying on the straw-covered ground in its stable, and appears to be dead.

" 'E shoulda heard us."

Indeed - he couldn't have not heard us. But he only stands and stares.

"Um - pardon me.. " I venture, stepping right out into the room. His head turns slowly toward me, but he seems distracted. Unfocused.

Not knowing what else to do I pull Zha-Zha's booty shorts out of my pocket and give them a quick flip to unroll them - our magic pass. He doesn't even look at them - just keeps staring toward me - not even at me really.

So I step right up in front of him - hold the shorts just in front of his chest. He glances down but fails to react in any other way.

Now King Diddy walks up next to me, studies the strangely unresponsive man - waves a hand tentatively before his eyes.

"Like a meth head.. "

" Er a zombie." Xey finishes.

As a final resort I pass the orange shorts several times right before his face - but still nothing.

"Dead ta the world." Xey pronounces.

"His legs.. " DeMonica gasps, stepping up beside us with Muffin in tow.

He's wearing baggy brown trousers - but the fit is strange - wrong somehow. As one our heads all drop slowly toward the ground - surveying his oddly deformed lower half.

".. his FEET!"

There are no shoes - no shoes could possibly fit over the weird crabbed protrusions emerging from the legs of his trousers. They're long and splayed out and resemble bunched twigs or bundled vines.

"Spider legs!"

I think we all say it in unison.

So this then is one of the poor monstrosities I witnessed in one of my visions - half human half spider - merged at the waist. Apparently his 8 stalk-like legs are jammed by 4s into the legs of the trousers.

Impulsively we all draw back - someone gasps in revulsion.

Only Muffin remains, looking strangely at him for a moment before DeMonica pulls her back to us.

*Dream of Sassafrax*

I just posted this in DV Member Dreams, but I'll repost it here as well because it's relevant.

Dreamed I was walking in a playground at dusk or night time (glowing blue sky) and there was a troth or metal bathtub full of water sitting near some tall slides. Next I was crouched down behind it and Sassafrax was next to me, also crouched down, and running one hand gently through the water. She told me she was having sex with my friend (who really was my friend many years ago, not now) and that she would also be having sex with me but my dog was too unsanitary.

I'm sure the reason I dreamed it is because I woke up at 5:30 (as I usually do when I get to bed around 11 or so) and started thinking about the upcoming parts of the story, including Sassafrax's scenes. And I came up with an amazing idea for her character that I won't spoil - you'll just have to wait to read it when the chapter comes up. But this is so epic I can hardly contain myself!!

Then with this incredible idea concerning Sassy in my head I fell back asleep and proceeded to dream about her.

23

Neener

"Yes - this is good." the King proclaims. "We'll use it for our headquarters while we plan."

This is a spacious enclosure - a corral offset from the stables and surrounded by tall stone walls - what happens in here can't be seen from anywhere in the Castle itself. It's normally used for running horses, but works quite well for containing unruly zombie girls and housing ragtag rebel gangs.

"There's fresh water!" DeMonica announces, working a pump by the wall and holding her black-gloved hand under the stream.

"Yes - we could all do with a good cleaning." Diddy agrees. "But first lets pow wow."

Xey is sitting Muffin down on an overturned half-barrel near the wall, where she once again becomes quiescent. Works like magic every time. Then we all sit on hay bales piled near the opposite wall.

"Is it true mate?" Xey begins "Did ye really drag us all through 'ell just for that accordion?"

Diddy smiles knowingly, looks down at the dirty antique hanging against his chest.

"My friend, this instrument is far more than it looks." He idly plays a little, but it sounds just as bad as anything we've heard him play yet. Xey's eyes meet mine and we both shake our heads sadly. Perhaps after all our good king has lost his mind.

"But to business!" Diddy claps his hands sharply. At least it's good to see him with some snap again. "Xey - we've got to get you a weapon. I saw some scythes on a shelf back in the stables - those will do until we get into the Castle itself, then I should be able to get us all some proper weapons. DeMonica of course is already set in that department. How about our cowardly friend?"

All eyes converge on me.

I heft the heavy battle axe, pull it from my belt and swing it twice in short arcs.

"Too heavy and unwieldy. I'd like something lighter."

"Noted. And how about the assignment I gave you? Have you remembered any more?"

For a moment I'm caught completely off guard. What is he talking about? Then it comes back to me - our conversation way back on Nunya's ferryboat - after Diddy's momentary vision of Reality Babe. I had told him about my own strange vision of her, and also about The Coal Cellar. She had told me to try to remember what had happened there in Grammy Greta's Coal Cellar with my sister when we were just children. And no - I'm embarrassed to admit, I hadn't even thought about it at all since then.

"Well, I've thought about it a lot since then, Yeah - there was the Coal Cellar, and me and my sister. We were in there... we were just kids you know - it's so long ago I can barely remember it at all. We were in there, and we were jut kids, and"

Suddenly something comes back to me, right in the middle of my stalling.

"And there was - something. Dead. A - dead - body? Or no... not a body - well not human anyway. It was - a cat. A kitten. Yes. It had got in the cellar somehow and died down there, and the smell was terrible. Weird that you couldn't smell it up in the house at all."

"And what about it?" Diddy prompts. "What happened?"

"Well.. we found it, and we were just kids - just young - and we found this kitten, and we - we had to - bury it. Yeah - that's it! We decided to bury it - right there in the coal cellar, where it would never be found. For some reason it was important to us that nobody ever disturb the body - we wanted to believe that it would find everlasting peace and never be disturbed. So - we buried it."

"In the cellar?" Diddy asks.

"In the Coal Cellar. Yeah."

"Alright. Well, if that's supposed to be helpful, then I don't

"UNDER the coal"

"What?"

"Under. The coal. We buried it underneath the piles of coal. Because we figured nobody would ever see it there. We knew if we dug up dirt and then buried it and replaced the dirt you'd be able to see that something had been done there.. it might prompt people to dig and see what was down there. So we moved most of a big pile of coal. Little by little, just the two of us, with shovels we found there. Moved the pile over, dug a hole, buried the poor kitten with appropriate pomp and ceremony, and then replaced the coal."

"Ah. I see. Underground AND under an old pile of coal. Very good. I'll bet it's still there, undisturbed to this day! But I still don't see how that helps us." He looks thoughtful for a moment then shakes his head as if to clear some persistent but perplexing thought. "Well alright. So much for that. Now, if I can get us into the armory I should be able to get us all some good serviceable armour as well as weapons

"Sporadic."

".. wat?"

"Sporadic. I just remembered that too. It's a word that was in my head - and I don't even know what it means. But it seemed important. 'Go with it' was in my head too. I've been using that as a sort of mantra throughout this whole thing, but I had forgotten about Sporadic. Anybody know what it means?"

"Why yes - it simply means intermittent. From time to time - not constant. But again - I don't see

Zombie-Muffin is looking straight at me.

Not looking around absently like she normally does. Not staring blankly into space while slavering and snapping. Well, she's still slavering, but she's stopped snapping and is now staring hard directly into my eyes. And the look on her face is one of wonderment. It's the most composed and coordinated her body movements and facial expressions have been since she became a zombie.

"Well I'll be!" Xey breathes. What's gotten into 'er?"

"Sporadic." Diddy repeats loudly. Now Muffin looks at him. Her mouth actually closes - and stays closed for longer than it takes to snap at something. There's still a long string of foamy drool hanging from her chin, but her posture is now upright and her face is registering some vague dull thought process.

She begins to look around - not randomly now so much as searchingly. Her expression is changing to one of alarm, as if she's struggling with some idea that she knows is vitally important, but it's still beyond her.

And suddenly she turns toward the rough stone wall behind her - turns and reaches out. The arms that for two days have done nothing but hang lifelessly and swing around like ropes from her shoulders banging into things reach out and she places her hands against the surface of the wall.

We all stand slowly, utterly astonished. We advance a single wary step toward her. Now she's running her hands gently against the wall - almost caressingly.

I remember when I did the same at the giant mushroom where Ganjataki sat smoking his hookah and dispensing stoner wisdom - and I remember that I had wanted to tell her about it then - to have her try the same thing. It had greatly increased the clarity of my vision and all my senses. And I hoped it would do the same for her - possibly spark these strange mysterious powers O had said she possessed. And that was exactly when she had run off terrified, at the mercy of the emotion-enhancing Amygdala and had become a zombie.

Now her hands stop drifting across the surface of the wall and she turns and again looks directly into my eyes.

"You could almost swear she's thinkin' " Xey says.

"She is. Or she's trying." I respond. Then I run to her, crouch down beside her, and take one of her hands in mine.

I need to keep her from losing that thought she's struggling with. I don't know why, but I place my palm against hers, rub them gently together. Maybe this will help. Then I for some reason place the tip of my index finger against her palm and press, as if I'm trying to push my finger right into or through her palm.

"It's fricken' Helen Keller!" Xey laughs. "Water!! Water!!"

Everyone laughs nervously, but their attention is riveted as I keep tapping and pressing against her palm. I have no idea what I'm doing, but it seems right somehow. So I go with it.

And then her other hand comes up slowly - she extends her own index finger and mimics what I'm doing - pointing it against her palm and jabbing clumsily against it. Her head is tilted down inside its iron wire cage, yellow featureless eyes fixed intently on her palm as if the fate of all mankind lies somehow there in the balance. Perhaps it does.

And nothing happens.

"Alright - Xey, Dark - go get those scythes - nobody moves anywhere alone now. We're a team and we do everything as a team. We're going to hammer out a battle plan and stick to it. No heroics!" We start toward the door.

"Wait - look.. " DeMonica is pointing toward Muffin. She's just sitting now, her look faraway and intense, as if she's trying really hard to concentrate on something vitally important but finding it extremely difficult. And around her feet the leaves are stirring gently.

"Wind?" Xey asks.

"Wind - how?" I ask. " We're inside a walled enclosure. Do you see wind anywhere else in here?"

"Well - no.. "

Now a few leaves lift up flutteringly from the ground and begin to skitter around in little circles. In moments there's a tiny little whirlwind at her feet, a weak one to be sure, but it's there nonetheless. It wanders around unhurriedly in an area roughly twelve feet in diameter with her at the center of it. And still her blank yellow-grey eyes search the distance as if there's something there - some thought, that she desperately needs to grasp. Overhead the sky is darkening ominously.

"Whew. That's intense mate. Wonder what it means? Anyway, come on then."

And Xey leads me out the door and back toward the stable.

There's a good hundred yards of open ground in between, and here we're vulnerable - we can see the castle and also possibly be seen from it. In fact there's someone standing there just now - off in the distance atop a little hill. So far she's just a tiny figure in a long white dress fluttering gently in the breeze like some ghost from a gothic tale. And she's looking directly at me.

Her eyes are amazing.

Wait - how can I see her eyes? She's so far away - her entire figure is just a speck. But see them I do, and I'm dumbstruck. They're huge - mesmerizing - exotic. Green. And I see them. Even though it's impossible, they fill my vision transparently, overlaid onto the sky behind her and the castle and the ominous darkening sky with clouds gathering as if for a storm. And yet those eyes are all I see.

I'm walking now - toward them. Into them. There is nothing else.

She turns and begins to move toward the castle. Her movements are incredibly graceful - in fact impossibly graceful. No-one waking over this rough terrain could walk so smoothly - it's as if she moves on oiled bearings.

It's Neener of course. The Black Queen. I know this, though all I can see is a white figure in the distance. And her eyes - superimposed gigantically over the lowering grey sky.

Something has happened since the last time I saw her. Then she was an evil queen - beautiful to be sure. But now she's changed - or I have. Now she holds some power over me that's irresistible.

I really like that the Black Queen is wearing all white. Such an uncommon contrast than most of the storries of this type.

Lol and in a case of art imitating life, something really has changed between me and Nina since her early scenes - I've joined the Mod Squad and she's now my boss! Now she really does rule my destiny... heh - I might want to rethink this chapter..

Where she leads I follow - drawn in her wake. I'm slowly gaining on her - running as she walks. But where she glides smoothy I'm tripping and stumbling on stones and roots. I don't even notice - just pick myself up and keep following like a man possessed. Soon I pass through the door she left open - into the castle itself. Along corridors floored with polished tile. Not to the Royal Bedchambers - past them and down a different corridor. Into a spacious apartment.

One I recognize. It's the same apartment where I saw SaffronAxe covered with grey spiders in a recent vision.

Like a man sleepwalking I can't stop myself - I'm compelled to walk through the living room area though my skin crawls at the memory.

Through a door.

Into the bedroom.

Neener stands before me, back turned, looking into a full-length mirror, hands sliding slowly down her thighs.

"I know why you've come. Why you're here."

Her gorgeous eyes meet mine in the mirror.

"You're here to kill me, aren't you? It's alright - I know."

She turns to face me, her hands now gripping the sleek fabric of her dressing gown. It's something satiny.

"But there's something you want you to see first, isn't there? Something you're dying to see."

I'm stunned at her beauty - I've never seen her at such close range except in a vision where she was torturing and disemboweling O, and then she looked hard and cruel. Now she's soft and inviting - her eyes not the black orbs they were then, but huge and exotic and green. They're locked onto mine and I can't look away.

Until she starts to part the front of her dressing gown.

Her own eyes drop as she slowly pulls up on the sleek fabric, widening the gap.

To reveal her beautiful legs.

"See? I'm all woman after all. No scary spider legs."

She smiles, and now she's not the Black Queen at all - not the enemy - not a vicious killer or madwoman - she's a vibrant beautiful woman and she's smiling at me.

She lets out a breathy chuckle, walks toward me still holding the dressing gown open so I can watch her legs as she moves.

"Yep. They're real. See? Real flesh - real skin." She's sliding her hand up and down her thigh slowly. Now she's mere inches in front of me. So close I can feel warmth coming off her skin. Her hand slowly reaches out, takes mine, which I realize has been frozen like the rest of me ever since she spoke to me. She lifts it gently, turns it, and places it against the warm skin of her thigh.

"Feel real enough to you?" Her soft mouth is almost against my cheek as she says it. Her voice a seductive whisper.

She laughs again - soft, husky - breathy. She brushes gently against me - past me, and steps to the divan against the wall. She sits to one side, leaving room, and pats the red velvet invitingly.

"Come. Sit"

I'm beginning to realize I'm in danger.

" 'Samatter? You afraid of me?" She smiles glowingly and it's impossible not to love her. Or - not to obey her.

The thinking part of my mind seems to be shut down - something else is in control now. And she's in control of it. Moving like an automaton I walk to the divan and sit beside her.

From the small end table she retrieves a cigarette and lighter, flicks it to life and starts smoking. She's an artist - she does it glamorously like a Hollywood starlet from the 30's.

"Go ahead - take a good look." She says around a slowly rising cloud of thick grey smoke. She leans back - absolutely self-possessed - a panther fully relaxed but ready to spring in an instant. And she lifts her legs up gracefully, brings her pretty feet up in front of me.

She's wearing shiny golden slippers with low heels - with one foot she slowly pushes one off so it falls into my lap.

"Oh - Oops!"

She uses her bare foot to move the slipper until it drops onto the floor, then with her toes she pushes the other slipper halfway off and lets it dangle there in front of me.

"See - real. Wanna feel?" She touches her toes delicately against the skin of my face. They're soft and warm, marvelously supple - her toenails perfectly pedicured and painted crimson like her fingernails.

Now the other slipper drops softly onto my lap.

"Gosh - so clumsy!" She says. Her ploy is obvious. I'm not falling for it for a second, but she has me under some kind of compulsion and I'm unable to resist.

She places both bare feet against my cheeks, uses them to turn my head forcibly this way and that, slides them across my face caressingly.

Now she brings them ever so gently down, across my chest - my abdomen - starts to play with the slipper in my lap. She turns it this way and that, rolls it over, reveling in the control she has with her supple feet. She slips her toes back into it, leaves it dangling again, lifts it up before my eyes, and then flings it off across the room.

Ahhhh god no! Here it comes. Every fresh scab, every laceration and scrape - tearing open anew. Pain swells, throbs and grows to monstrous proportions.

She places a foot on each of my thighs, slides them toward my body.

"What's this?" She says archly. "Got something in your pocket, or just happy to see me?"

Her feet are massaging the thick lump made by Zha_Zha's rolled booty shorts in my pocket. She leans forward, pulls them out and unrolls them to look at them for a moment. Then she laughs indulgently and drops them on the floor.

"Oh you're a naughty boy, aren't you? A real alley-cat." Her magnetic eyes are locked on mine now - her soft seductive look beginning to harden.

"Why you're nothing but a little kitten, aren't you? Just a fluffy little kitten."

She leans back, sitting fully erect now. Her eyes turn once again to solid black orbs and her mouth becomes a thin slit.

"Neener neener."

Suddenly her feet tower over me like standing stones. Behind them her face looms gigantic, leering coldly down at me.

I feel - young. Impossibly young. Just a tiny fluffball - a soft warm scrap of cute overflowing with playfulness and curiosity.

She places a foot against me and shoves hard - flings me out into the room which is now the length of a football field. I drop the equivalent of 2 stories to the mosaic floor, land tumbling on a rug. It doesn't hurt a bit - about like jumping face-first onto the bed when I was 4.

Now her spell is broken. The compulsion part anyway. I'm free to react however I choose now, and I decide it's time to hightail it for the door. Unfortunately I discover being a tiny fluffball has its disadvantages when it comes to momentum and speed - I'm running as well as I'm able in this tiny uncoordinated body, but it's taking forever to make any progress - I'm mostly bounding up and down on unsteady little legs.

And Neener stands, towering like a giant over me, and takes 4 swift steps to the door, which she shuts long before I can even clear the rug.

"Where are you going little kitty, we're gonna play!"

She proceeds to kick me around like a tiny ball, bouncing me off furniture and walls. It doesn't hurt, but it sure shakes any confidence I might have had. She's making it clear that she's in charge and I'm nothing but her plaything.

Like O when she transformed him into a pig, my clothes and accessories have shrunk to fit. Now the tiny battle axe is still thrust through my belt - but unfortunately I have no opposable thumbs. I only have tiny little claws and teeth that do little more than tickle her.

"C'mere little pussycat. Sit on Neener's lap while I change into something - a little less comfortable." Her hand scoops me up and I'm carried across the room to her dresser. She sits down and snuggles me into her warm lap, strokes me gently for a while.

I must admit, it does feel amazingly good! Unwittingly I catch myself purring and pushing hard into her hand, until I realize what I'm doing and cease and desist.

"There's a good little kitty. Now hang on." She bends down, trapping me between her lap and her abdomen while she leans forward and fumbles with something on the floor. It takes her a while, and my little body is almost crushed in the process, but then she sits upright again and drops me unceremoniously on the floor.

Damn - she's put on a pair of white leather spike-heel boots. This cannot be good.

She stands, unties the sash around her waist and throws off the dressing gown to reveal white shorts and a lace-edged white tank top that says Killer Queen in ornate letters.

"Ok, now momma's ready to play!"

I learn what it's like to become a soccerball - batted and booted savagely around in the vast bedroom space. Her boots have pointy toes and vicious stiletto heels that she keeps trying to impale me with.

"It took me a while to read you, you know. I'm usually a lot quicker - but I just wasn't getting the kitten vibe from you at first."

She's standing monumentally over me to say this, feet spread apart and hands on hips like Superman. Gloating down at me.

"Cause you know, I can't just transform a person into anything... there's an art to it. The power comes down from Diana originally - and it depends on being able to read someone - find their main character flaw. All I can do is exaggerate it - make you more of what you already are.. "

She smiles wickedly down at me.

"Pussy"

Oh damn that's it bitch! I may be a nice guy in general, and not prone to violence, but there's no call for that! I went through hell! You cannot call me a pussy.

"Ha ha! I just did. Pussy."

Oh wow - guess I said that out loud. I forgot - O could still talk. I guess they all can. We all can I should say. All of Neener's pets.

Now she turns around, reaches past the dresser, and comes back with something like a long stick. Oh crap - it's O's katana. And she's holding it like a nine iron and swinging it in little arcs to get the feel for it.