Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Various One-shots ❯ Don't Play With Your Food ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer:

Pokemon is a copyright of Nintendo. Pokègirl and Pokèwoman come from the Pokewomon Forum at http://disc.server.com/Indices/169881.html. "Wild Horses and Pokègirl" is the creation of Metroanime.

C&C, MSTs are welcome E-mail: kelvins.choice@comcast.net or kelvins.choice@att.net

      " 'Don't play with your food!' 'Lack plays with his food', and laughter ensues," Lackramacultrix had heard it all, and now repeated it.

      I'm sick of it, just sick, Lack thought morosely, So I climb, after all, what's the point? That can't be the reason I was punished so severely. No, I made the mistake of asking 'Why blow something up, when you can use it again?' Stupid question to ask. 'Tradition!' That's always the answer.

      Lack looked up the mountain, remembering the old feelings. Against that were the old warnings, The old man is dangerous, the old man works for The ENEMY!

      "I suppose I could get into a lot of trouble for doing this, but after being called into the office of the Special Controller, I'm hardly a model employee. I like what I do, I'm good at what I do. It's just that - " Lack sighed. "Great, I'm talking to myself, and not just any talk, treason, if the Special Controller is to be believed. I just think a lot of it is pointless. Is saying that to your superior such a treasonous, mind-shattering unction that a 'corrective interview' should be ordered? I didn't post it on the big board, even I'm too much of a coward for that."

      So why am I hauling my ass up this mountain to do something that's likely to get me in even more trouble? Because I want out, Lack realized, I'm not cut out for this kind of work, at least as it's actually done.

      "Supposed to be done. I also want someone to talk to."

      "I want someone to talk to as well," the figure said. Chained to the cliff face by his wrists and waist, the graying figure didn't seem capable of harming anyone.

      "My old teacher used to threaten, 'If you don't do your lessons, the old man will break his chains to come and get you.'"

      "Yes, I hear the stories, even here. Not that I could break these chains and make it past the brave guards down below."

      Those chains are better made than what I generally see, Lack noted.

      "They say that those chains are actually The ENEMY's work. Why would The ENEMY chain one of you up here?" Lack gestured at the cliff face and high vista.

      "Why wouldn't I deserve to be here? Seeing all of you, separate, but ever present in your thoughts?"

      "Now I know you're pulling my leg," Lack said, picked out a place out of the figure's reach, and sat down.

      "Maybe I'm here for people to ask questions. A pilgrimage to end your torment."

      "Yeah right, I've heard that one before."

      "I'm not offering you 'joy through work', or 'walk off the pain', or 'fulfillment through -' whatever is the currently appropriate activity, or whatever they've filled your head with. I'm offering a long hard struggle, with ups and downs, and maybe the only real joy will be looking back to see what you've done. But you'll enjoy doing what you enjoy doing, and they need it done. Imagine that. People needing what you do well."

      "That all sounds a little too good. There has to be a catch."

      "Certainly there's a catch," the figure told Lack, then he laughed, "There's always a catch. Nothing really enjoyable or fulfilling is ever all easy or all pleasant. Does that make the proposition completely untenable?"

      "That's a marvelous philosophy, and doesn't answer the real question. What's the catch?"

      "That what you enjoy so much, what you think you do so well, now it will matter. It won't be a game, or someone else's assignment, you have to be best at what you think you're good at. You can't decide you don't want to do it, because everything depends on you doing it, even your own survival. That's the catch."

      Lack gulped. "That's quite a catch."

      "So that's the question, and of course: Are you up to the challenge of the world itself? You won't be able to come crawling back here if you lose. And, The ENEMY, has been taking a greater interest in . . . that world. Are you prepared to face the warriors of The ENEMY? Are you certain you can defeat or at least talk your way out of a confrontation with them?"

      Lack considered, then said, "I think I am."

      I feel . . . better somehow, Lack thought, Now that I can really depend on my skill and convictions, my 'odd way of achieving my missions' and not on the rules of others.

      "I'm ready," Lack said firmly.

      "Then you'll need a password," the chained figure said. Then pronounced a word that was physically painful to hear.

      Lack tried to repeat it back. I think I burned my tongue to ash! Lack thought in horror.

      "What now?"

      "At the top of the hill, there is a sentry. Give him the password, and he'll let you pass through the gate. Once you go through, you can never return. If you're lucky, they'll assume you were destroyed. Otherwise, they'll assume you turned renegade, and you know how they react to that."

      "Yes, I do, not that there's anything keeping me here," Lack replied, started climbing and quickly reached the sentry.

      The huge warrior bristled at Lack's approach. Then Lack spoke the password. The change in expression was as sudden as it was comical. "Pass." The warrior stepped aside, and doubled over from the gales of laughter he could no longer contain.

      I'll take that as better proof that I'm safe than his word, Lack thought, In that condition, he couldn't kill me even if he wanted to. Lack proceeded to the arch of stones that stood suspended, mimicking a doorway, then looked back. Am I supposed to feel some regret over leaving the only home I've ever known? I'll shake the dust from my feet, and never look back.

      Lack did that, and stepped through.

      Once the warrior could quit laughing, he marched down the slope to the figure who was removing the chains which had appeared to be the perfect prison.

      "I sometimes wonder if they sent you here, just to drive me crazy," the warrior said.

      "Why? There was talent, and there was need," the figure said, "I used wisdom to set them on a course towards each other. How else can redemption proceed if there are no risks taken?"

      The warrior shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder about you people," the guard said, "Mostly I think you're all crazy."

      Doesn't look all that different, Lack thought as he looked around the heavily forested region, Almost looks abandoned. Although, I do hope I can get something to eat.

      The angry growl brought Lack's attention around. Six feet tall, tiger-striped, wonderfully curved and muscled, and filled to the brim with anger and sexual need.

      Lack wondered at the once-fine, but badly torn clothing, then dismissed that concern for later. "Oh you are a lush one, aren't you, and . . . your partner is circling around behind. As if 'heroes' haven't tried that trick a thousand times before."

      Lack seemed to concentrate on the furry figure practically dancing in front of him. You think you're out of reach, but not from me!

      The other one sprang, and was caught midair by dozens of tentacles. They held her helpless. The one in front stared in confusion.

      Take them off the ground and they lose leverage, Lack thought as he extended several of his more sensitive and delicate tentacles. The female shied at their touch.

      "Shh, shh," he turned his head completely around and soothed, "I know, it's strange, but I won't hurt you. I'm not like the others."

      She struggled and growled, but he kept his tentacles away from the fangs and claws, while his more sensitive organs stroked her breasts and touched her labia.

      The other's just watching, I . . . no, she's fingering herself, he thought, I can help.

      A moment later, the second furred body was aloft, near enough her partner that she could see, but neither could assist the other.

      Normally, it's to increase their despair, but it also helps to calm them, Lack thought as another set of more delicate tentacles stroked and massaged the centers that would provide him with energy. Ah, the anger gives them such a delicious piquancy! Such an aperitif, too bad it's fading, and I don't know how to keep them angry, or really frighten them, nor would I want to. Ah, delicious! he thought as the pair orgasmed, Now to work you two into a full sexual lather, and I can feast!

      "I think I'm going to really like this place!" he said as he felt the power of another orgasm building in the pair.

      The Officer Jennies watched in amazement as the Panthress paused in mid-spring, and let the two Tigresses lead her from the perimeter and sit her down. The entire collection of 30 Pokègirls inside the perimeter made angry noises as their Master continued to be questioned.

      "That's my story officer. Yes, I'm a tentacle demon, and yes, I've been Taming Ferals, but isn't that a good thing?"

      The slightly harassed officer sighed and looked at the angry Seraph who'd made the complaint. "Yes, sir. It is. And once the medical team finishes their check, providing they don't find anything, you'll be free to go."

      "WHAT!" the Seraph shouted.

      "Ma'am, legally, the only thing I could charge him with is being an unlicenced Harem Master. Considering his record of answering the 'all-hands' calls, with himself and his entire little army, considering he had converted 250 Ferals to non-, including that Panthress there, if I hauled him into my boss, they'd stick a medal on him, and give me a shovel and trash can on wheels to clean streets." He weathered the furious/mystified look from the Celestial. "He's a demon, granted, but we get people from other dimensions all the time. Most of them cause a lot more trouble, like that rash of demon-possessed Ninja who popped up recently."

      All three shuddered at that memory.

      "And yes, he's admitted he feeds on sex. Frankly that makes him the perfect Tamer. I've suspected that about most Tamers anyway. As the crowning touch, if we accept his statement, your side sent him here. We have no reports of him attacking Frees or humans, sex with them yes, attacks no."

      "I haven't."

      "We have no complaints about the health of the Pokègirls he's turned in for salvage or given as gifts, or rescued after they got separated from their rightful owners, other than tiredness that goes away with a few days rest. He doesn't use restraints while Taming, if I understand his biology, he hardly needs to. Drugging or using magic on powerful Pokègirls isn't a crime, especially if it neither harms them, or makes them addicts. It's especially not a crime if it's consensual. While I may not agree with it, Ferals hardly have rights to complain, as long as it's humane."

      "There has to be something!" the Seraph pled with the officer.

      "There's the fact he's missing his identity papers and a Pokèdex of his own."

      "That's something."

      "True, but if I hang my hat on that, my next job will be finding the misplaced paperwork and getting him his own 'dex."

      "Demons of his type also feed on negative emotions, strong, negative emotions," the Seraph said.

      "She's exactly right," Lack said, "Which is why I went after that Panthress when I heard about her. Her anger provides me all the negative emotion I need, and by me consuming them, she can operate in a more normal situation. She couldn't wait tables, or work in customer service without mayhem, but she won't tear out her Harem-sisters' throats with her teeth."

      "Seems a rational solution to me," the officer said, "Keeps her out of our bailiwick."

      "There's also the fear of a newly-caught Feral. Since she honestly doesn't know if she's to be eaten, the terror there is quite strong. Remove that, give her a gentle Taming, and she's well on her way to recovery. Maybe my motives aren't as pure as they could be, but both my means and my ends are to benefit my Pokègirls."

      "He's a demon," the Seraph insisted almost plaintively.

      "Fine, you know where we can get a hundred more just like him, I'll have Nuevo Tenochtitl…n summon them up."

      "There aren't," Lack said, "Most would totally justify her concerns. They'd - inflate- their victims. Until they exploded, you can guess how. I always thought that was wasteful."

      "Thank you," the Seraph grudgingly admitted, while squirming at the image presented.

      Lack smiled. "I have a wonderful idea. If you want to make certain all I've claimed to do isn't just lies and a sham."

      "Yes," the Seraph said suspiciously.

      "Why don't you sign a contract and join my Harem for a while? You could boldly lead us to trouble spots and troubled Pokègirls, and you could get a gentle Taming every night or watch as I tamed my girls." Lack faced the Seraph. "You're really cute, but you worry too much. Maybe with a team backing you up, you wouldn't need to be so afraid . . . although that fear and disgust makes you so delicious!"

      The Seraph looked like she'd just climbed out of a well-used latrine.

      "I have a contract right here," the officer said, "You do know what the penalty for filing a false police report is don't you? Six weeks long enough?" The officer smiled at the shivering Seraph.

      "I believe so," Lack said.

      "US FIRST!" the Jennies all shouted.

      "The med team did want to see your full capabilities," the officer told a stunned Lack.