Destiny Ch. 01

Sometimes I write other things.  This is a story based off of the Destiny video game.  Probably won’t make much sense if you aren’t familiar with the game.

It’s been twelve days since the last time I died.

My fingers touch the back of my neck while my ghost shifts slightly, as if in sympathy to the phantom pain.  It doesn’t hurt.  Not really.  I just feel like it should.  I always feel like it should still hurt afterwards but, eventually it fades.  Until the next time.

The stiff, dark grass next to my outstretched leg stirs.  The sky is wide and blue and beautiful above me.  …

Unclean [TF / FM / Wererat]

A very quick, very messy wererat story with an alternate “sexy” ending.  I haven’t done a rat TF before so, here you go!

“No, listen. Listen! I’m telling you, the goddamned cab driver dropped me off at the wrong place.” The young woman stalked down the desolate street, shoulders hunched deep within her suit jacket. Her black high heels clicked-clacked on the broken sidewalk. Rows of old brick houses lined the street. The buildings were built in rapid development decades ago but now most lay empty and boarded up. A few children played basketball in the street ahead of her and several adult sat in front of their homes, relaxing on the wide, dark gray concrete steps.…

Sketch 06: Caged [TF / MF / Werewolf]

I am enormously thankful for fetishists.

The things I’ve ordered from various websites are mostly harmless but, all together would paint quite a bad picture of me.  Chains.  Metal cuffs – not handcuffs, mind you, actual proper thick metal cuffs.  A little like you’d see in old movies (old England or France or wherever) when they throw a prisoner in the deepest dungeon with his hands chained to the wall until they lead him out to be beheaded.

Which, to be honest, is pretty close to what I’m doing.

—–

The murders started about eight months ago.  Grisly things.  Bad enough that you wouldn’t really call them ‘bodies’ anymore. …

Hellfire

328 years ago:

When the first torch touched the kindling at the base of the wooden pole, Mary Sturgess moaned and writhed against the rope binding her in place.  She dug her bare feet into the dirt underneath her as if to dig her way out and away.  The wood to her left caught quickly and she felt the sudden heat in the warm night air.  The first Elder stepped back, his eyes shining in the flickering light.  The second Elder stepped forward and quickly set his torch to the wood to Mary’s right.  Younger than the other two and only just raised to his rank, he didn’t raise his eyes to the woman in front of him. …