From: elf@halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.furry
Subject: Journal Entry 031 / 0081 [ P'nyssa's Introduction ]
Date: 29 Jan 1996 13:18:44 GMT
Organization: Pendor, UnLtd.
Lines: 603
Message-ID: <4eihfk$fdd@news1.halcyon.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: coho.halcyon.com
Elenya, Nenim 6, 0081
I gritted my teeth and walked in the one-fifth gravity to the
stepping disk and ordered it to take me home. The sudden increase
in weight slugged me, and it simply fed my anger. GODDAMN HER!
I stormed past some people in the hallway as I walked towards
my home. I heard a voice behind me: "Ken..." Paul. Go The Fuck
Away.
The door slid open and I walked through, settling into the
couch, still seething. Damn damn damn damn. I do not need this!
There was a knock at the door. "What?" I snarled.
"Ken?" It was Paul again.
I took a deep breath, sighed, and said "Come in Paul."
The door opened again, and the Centaur walked in and looked
around. He stepped carefully over to the other side of the coffee
table and settled onto the floor, folding his legs under him. "Are
you okay?"
"No, I am not okay, but thank you for asking." I looked down
at my hands, which felt cold, and rubbed them together.
"What's up? Last I heard, you were up at Alpha with Miss
Traken."
"Yeah, last you heard. And last you're gonna hear about that,"
I said, angrily.
"Getting on your nerves?" he said.
"Look, Paul, I know you don't like her. I know M'Ress doesn't
like her, but I need her. She's the most qualified Centaur
obstetrician on the Ring. She's a stress and a pain, but I need
her."
"She's not a Shardik."
"No, she's not. We've never really settled on what that means,
though, but she definitely does not qualify. Look, right now I'm
more than a little steamed."
"What happened?"
"We were in Alpha again, and she started complaining again."
"About?"
"Paperwork. Look, you know how much of the original Centaur
design is simply notes scattered around in a couple of notebooks I
have. They're carefully put away, but that's not good enough for
her. Paul, when I made you, I got it right, but Carroll is...
sterile. I can fix it, I know I can, but I need the help of
someone who isn't a microbiologist, someone who understands the big
picture. She's it. P'nyssa Traken is the best, recommended by
Rhys himself, but Rings, kiddo, I did perfectly well without
hypertext. She wants everything hypertexted, and I just don't have
that. I work up here," I pointed to my temple, "and she doesn't
understand that. She's so used to theoretical work. She could do
research all day just by sitting down and thinking. I can't. I'm
a hands-on person. If it isn't bubbling away in Alpha somewhere,
if it isn't made up of paper and ink, it isn't mine. I can't
handle that kind of abstraction. I like using keyboards and mice
and joysticks." I paused, took another deep breath, and said "I'm
sorry. I didn't mean to rant and rave like that."
He smiled. "I haven't got my wife's common sense, Ken, but I
can see two choices here. I mean, it is your project, after all.
You can either get her to accept your methods, or dismiss her."
"Then who have I got?"
"There's always Brieanna."
"Rhys recommended her second, but he also said it was quote a
distant second unquote."
"Your only option, then, is to talk to her."
"Not an option."
He nodded. "Where is she now?"
"Dave?" I said, addressing the ceiling.
"Miss Traken is still on Alpha. According to Halloran, she is
having a comprehensive cross-index of your notes made up."
"Well, maybe that'll keep her happy," I said. But eventually,
I made up my mind.
- - -
A few hours later, I walked back to Alpha. When I stepped into
the lab, she was standing a few meters away over a desk, a b/r
headband around her temples. She was humanoid, about 170cm tall,
dark blue fur and large elfin ears. I like Tindals, because for
once they're not based on anything classical. Miss Traken was a
little different, because she had distinctive patches of fur
without any tint to them around her eyes. They gave her a slight
'racoon' look I found it attractive. The eyes themselves were of a
solid greenish-yellow, sometimes more green, sometimes more yellow.
Her arms were blue-furred tentacles, like all Tindals, and she
deftly handled the custom keyboard with her mittens. One pad and
opposable thumb. Soft and dexterous. "Dr. Traken."
"Dr. Shardik," she said, acknowledging my presence.
"Dr. Traken. I invited you to help me on a rather difficult
project that I sensed I could not manage on my own." This was a
rather over-rehearsed speech, and I think it sounded that way.
"Unfortunately, I now find our personal differences too large to
make us an effective research team. While you are welcome to take
notes and consult with Hal as you see fit, I'd like you to not
return to Alpha labs in the future." Without waiting for a
reaction, I turned on my heels and walked out.
- - -
I spent the next five hours at home, fretting and fuming over
my decision. Damn it, I had reasons other than just the
professional for not wanting Brieanna as a research partner. I had
a lot of personal reasons. I reviewed records. There was Hl. T.
C. Rhys himself. There was Dr. F. Vaughnnel. There was a Dr. T.
D. Mittleson, another Tindal. All competent, but none of them
really had Dr. Traken's skill, and this was brought home to me over
and over as AI Dave, AI Jean, and I reviewed the records. I sighed
and leaned back in the couch, lying down and closing my eyes.
I awoke to hear a pounding at the door. "Ken!" The pounding
grew more insistent, and I said "Dave, let them in."
The door opened to reveal Chelsea, an older Uncia female who
I'd been friends with for years and years. She stood over me, her
furred ears flared to their full width and her upper lip drawn back
into an unpleasant snarl. "I heard what you did to Dr. Traken
today."
"Chelsea..."
"No, Shardik. You listen to me, and you listen carefully.
Right now that young lady is throwing her life away over at
Michael's, and if you have any interest at all in saving one of
your Tleil Centuries, you'd better get over there right now!"
I sat up and said, rather dumbly, "What?"
"Ken, as far as anyone can tell, Dr. Traken is trying to drink
herself into a drug-induced coma. Mike's being careful and keeping
her on the edge of consciousness, but she could go over any second
and she's a doctor! She's got access to plenty of things she could
use, some of them a lot more unpleasant than just plain alcohol.
Get up and get over there."
I blinked. "Chelsea. If she wants to kill herself, that's her
prerogative. But I can't have her as a lab partner, and I don't
think there's much chance of my going back on my word."
"Listen to you. Do I have to get Miss Flanders in here?"
The mention of Brieanna got my attention. "No, Chelsea. Okay,
I'll go get her." I sighed and rose. Chelsea followed me as I
walked quickly to the internal SDisk and teleported over the
Michael's.
I walked in to find the place nearly empty. Empty that is,
except for Mike, tending bar, Rhys, who stood at the far edge of
the bar with his arms folded and his equine bulk leaning up against
the railing, and Dr. Traken, who was sitting at a booth with eight
or nine empty beer glasses sitting around her, all of them with a
slight white residue. Milk laden with some sort of heavy sedative
or depressant, I'd wager. Apparently, nobody wanted to watch
someone else's self-destruction.
The bar looked the same, lots of heavy stone and glass windows
with leaded alloy frames, notoriously easy to break. There was a
burning firepit in the center, arranged with a cone grated center
to allow lots of air in, and reflect heat out into the room. The
cone-shaped chimney above was still painted a kind of light
vile-green color, but the place was exquisitely clean, as always.
I walked over to the bar and said, "What's she been drinking?"
Mike, a tawny Felinzi, looked at me, said "Secobarbital." I
nodded, looked up at Rhys, who turned his head away.
I walked over to the booth and slid in opposite her. It was
one of those round booths that slid all the way, with a "D" shaped
table in the middle. Her head was down on the table, and she
didn't raise it when I sat. So I got her attention; I picked up
one of the glasses and threw towards the firepit that burned in the
center of the bar. The glass flew across the radius of the
firepit, mysteriously shattered in mid-air and all of the glass
fell into the pit with a loud crash. A good display of forcefield
for effect. She looked up. "Wh'dd'ya wan?" she said.
"Come home with me, Dr. Traken."
"Nizza," she said, lowering her head back to the table.
"Excuse me?" I said, not quite catching it.
"Nyssa. Tha'z m'name. Silen' 'P' en-wi-es-es-ey. P'nyssa.
Other'n th' 'P,' yu ga' me tha' name, Shardik. Yu shud know tha.'"
Her voice was very slurred.
"Come on, P'nyssa." I rose and grabbed hold of her shoulder.
She tried to push me away, but I held on tight.
"Leave me alone!" she shouted.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you don' wan' me. I can tell."
I bent down and balanced on my toes. "P'nyssa..."
She looked up and cast about for a second, I guess trying to
see me clearly, then focusing finally at where I knelt on the
floor. "No, you lissen to me, Shardik. Working wit' you is
suppozzed to be the high poin' of my carr... carr... work. Bein'
thrown ou' by you, I'll never be able to do m'job without somebody
pointin' a' me an' sayin' 'She's the one Shardik threw out.'"
"P'nyssa, you're the best. That's why you I asked you to Alpha
in the first place."
She looked up again and said "Tha' doesn' help. Ni'er does
Mikey, there, keepin' me stinkin' drunk and na' given' me 'nuff to
finish it."
"Dr. Tr... P'nyssa, I don't want you to kill yourself. I'm not
worth killing yourself over."
"Wha' else? Wha c'n I do?"
"You can come home with me. Sober up."
"I don' wan' soberrup. Ah'm fine."
"Come on."
"No!"
I figured there was no helping this argument, so I left her and
went back to the bar, shrugging my shoulders. Mike poured another
drink and left it at her table. She drank it down in a few short
gulps and keeled over. I walked back and picked her up, carrying
her towards the door. "Thank Mike," I said.
He nodded. I was just about out the door when I heard "Hey,
Ken!" It was the first thing the previously impassive Rhys had
said to me all day. I turned and looked at him. "You take care of
her. She's my best kid. A little on the high side, but still my
best. You hear me?"
I nodded and backed out of the bar. Despite the load in my
arms, I got back to the Castle with little or no trouble.
- - -
It took six hours for the Mickey Mickey had slipped her to wear
off, and when she came to on my couch she groaned and put her mitts
to her temples. "Tell the ogre to knock it off," she said.
I smiled and handed her a glass of orange juice. She accepted
it impassively and drank it all. "What's in this? It tastes odd."
"B-Complexes. Quite a few of them, in fact. You need it."
She looked at me, nodded. "I should leave now," she said.
"I don't think so."
"What do you mean, 'You don't think so?' You told me to leave,
isn't that enough? Why do you keep coming back to it, Shardik?
Just let me be."
"P'nyssa. Brieanna Flanders would not let me kill myself, or
have you all forgotten that little incident in Pendor's recent
past? I'm not about to sit around and let you try the same stunt,
for equally stupid reasons."
She stared out the window to her right, looking out over the
ocean. "When your father kicks you out of the house, what do your
brothers and sisters think of you?"
"Depends on the individuals. Look, Nyss, to be honest, I don't
understand why we argue over something as stupid as paper."
"Because you're disorganized. I can't work with that kind of
disorganization. Your notes are a perfect example. I mean, how am
I supposed to know that the genecode for enzyme 5054 starts in the
green notebook, but you scribbled the RNA code for it on the flap
of the red notebook?"
"You're not. I get ideas at random, and they go onto the
nearest notebook or surface, not necessarily the best place for
them." I paused, and said, "Did you really want to kill yourself?"
She looked away and said, in a small voice, "Yes."
"Still want to?"
"No."
"What's the difference?"
"I changed my mind. That's all. Look, if this is over, I'd
like to go."
"If you want." She took that as a 'yes,' rose and headed for
the door. I walked behind her and as the door opened I said,
"Nyss..."
She turned. I don't know why, don't ask me, but as she did I
was filled with this crazy idea. We weren't far enough apart to be
social, weren't close enough to be intimate: dangerous space. I
had two choices: back off or advance. The first was unacceptable,
so I took two steps towards her, backed her up against the hallway
wall and pressed my lips to hers. She struggled for a few seconds,
then I released her, backed away into that dangerous space again.
She looked at me, her expression impossible to read, then turned
and ran for the SDisk. There
was a flash and she vanished.
- - -
The next day I spent cleaning up Alpha and, much to my
surprise, having Halloran and Dave hypertext everything I'd ever
written. After a few hours of that I returned back the Castle,
stepping out on the outdoor SDisk and taking the long way home,
swimming up through the underwater exchange SDisk and coming up in
the dolphin pool, getting out and grabbing a towel. Ress was
standing there. "Hi," I said, cheerfully.
M'Ress looked at me with some faint amusement in her whiskers,
and said "I think you should check out your home, Ken."
"Whyfor?" I asked.
"Oh, I think you'll find it amusing."
I shook my head and dried off as I did so. I dropped down two
stories and headed for my domicile. I opened the door.
Inside, the lights were off, but the sun was still out and it's
diffused light filled it. In profile, I saw someone sitting
outside on the porch, a tall glass of something faintly yellow on
the table. A Tindal, and I knew who it was. "Dr. Traken?" I
asked.
She turned her head towards me and said, "You didn't call me
that yesterday, why start now?"
I crossed the distance, walked out onto the porch and sat
opposite her. "Okay," I said, "P'nyssa it is."
"Why not just, 'Nyss?'"
"'Nyss,' then."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Why did you kiss me yesterday?"
"Because... I don't know. Because you're so pretty? Because I
care about you? How about, because it was simply the right thing
to do, and I did it?"
"Do you care about me?"
"Hell, yes, I care about you. Despite the fact that you've
been one of the biggest pains in my ass in recent weeks, I do care
about you. You're still one of my daughters. You're still a whole
person."
There was something distinctly different about her demeanor.
"Ken..." She stopped. Then, "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For being such a bitch. I don't like losing control, not for
a second, not even to Shardik. I'm sorry for losing control in the
worst way. I'm even sorry for messing up your notes the way I
did."
"Don't be, about the last part. I spent today organizing my
notes the way you had been trying. I even got a good laugh when I
saw you trying to hyperlink two texts together that had to be seven
references apart."
"I did?" she said, eyes wide. "Which ones?"
"There was one on Drexler and one on genecode visualization
that just do not go together, and you had tried to make two links
between them."
"They looked like they belonged together."
"Trust me, they don't."
"See? I can't work like that."
"Maybe... Maybe they do go together, and I just never meant for
them to originally. Maybe we can get something to work by
combining the two. But that's why my work is so disorganized,
really. Because by scanning the notes, I sometimes get these crazy
ideas that work."
She looked at me again, and said, "I need to ask you one
more..." She stopped and stared out to sea for awhile, then said,
"Two more questions."
"Ask away."
"Can I come back and work for you?" There was a hopeful,
childlike
gleam in her eye.
"Probationary."
She nodded. "I understand."
She was quiet for a while, so I asked, "And the second
question?"
"There are a few reasons why I shouldn't ask this. I mean, you
are my father, and Vatare', and, well..."
"P'nyssa, ask me your question."
"Would you kiss me again?"
I rose from my seat and walked around the table and leaned over
her. She tilted her head upwards and I kissed her again. Her thin
black lips opened and her soft tongue stroked against my teeth. I
responded in kind, my tongue meeting hers. It was nice to be
kissing her like this, but I felt odd. This wasn't the lust-filled
attraction I usually feel with someone new, the intense infatuation
with learning a new response, getting a new smile.
As we kissed I reached down and ran my hands over the material
of her blouse, and she reached up and wrapped her tens around my
head and neck. What was different was that she was after me, not
the other way around. Or maybe it just wasn't reciprocated. I
don't know. But as my hands strayed over her hardened nipples
poking through her clothing I knew this wasn't a bribe or ploy to
get into my good graces; whatever her motive, she was turned on.
It felt... familiar. I liked it, and I liked her. Her ten
came loose from around my neck and strayed down, over my chest and
between my thighs, caressing my hardening cock through my clothes
as I caressed her nipples. Trying to drop a hint or two, I undid a
couple of buttons on her blouse and reached in, ruffling her fur as
I caressed her breasts.
She pulled away from the kiss and said "Stand up." I did. She
reached down with both hands and undid the buttons of my fly, my
erection springing free into the open air. "P'nyssa..." I said.
"What?" she asked, looking up with an evil grin.
"Someone could see us. We should go inside."
"Mm-mm," she hummed negative as she slowly lowered her head to
my groin and licked the head of my cock with her tongue. She took
the head into her mouth, and I felt the wetness surround me. She
had my undivided attention, and I responded with a groan. She took
as much of my penis into her mouth as she could, sucking gently.
She seemed a little awkward, but I gratefully took every little bit
of friction she was willing to give.
Her sucking was wonderful. The sunlight streamed down just
outside the porch, and in the bright daylight her dark blue fur
developed hints of gold streaks, highlights that were just too
much. I reached down and ran my fingers through her hair, feeling
the soft sensuality of it. I traced my fingers lightly over her
large elfin ears, tickling the little hairs that sprouted out along
the trailing edges, and the short fur on both sides as I explored
the nook between her ear and her scalp. She held very still, idly
sucking my cock without any back-and-forth, and I could feel her
throat and her tongue stroking me.
After a while, she stopped, and leaned back in the chair.
"What's wrong?" I asked, my erection sporting from my pants.
She smiled apologetically and said, "My mouth is tired."
"Then why don't I do something nice for you?" I said, getting
down on my knees and undoing the buttons of her blouse. She helped
me rid her of the shirt and she tossed it over the side. I bet
anyone playing down in the lagoon must have found that amusing.
She had small, slightly droopy breasts with tiny nipples poking out
from her rich fur. I leaned up against her and took one in my
mouth. She hummed with pleasure as I licked her nipple, caressing
it with my tongue and teeth. With my left hand I idly stroked
under her skirt, not really concentrating on what I was looking
for. I spent a lot of time on one nipple, and she wrapped her tens
around my head as I licked and sucked. Her breathing became
harder, more pronounced as I licked her, and she whispered,
"Father..."
I looked up, smiling. That word didn't bother me anymore.
"Fuck me," she said. I stood up and held down my hand. She took
it and stood. She started to walk inside, but I took her mitten
firmly and shook my head 'No.' She canted her head to the side
quizzically, and I put my hands about her waist and turned her
around so she was facing away from me. I walked her to the edge of
the porch and placed one of her mitts about the railing. She
placed the other firmly on the other side, and I pulled her hips
away from the railing somewhat. I reached around her and untied
her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She wore calf-high white
leather boots of the western type, and I found them immensely
attractive. I approached her from the rear, sliding my cock
between her legs but not into her. I put one hand on the outside
of her mittens and stroked back and forth, my hard erection sliding
wetly against her sex.
"Put it in," she breathed. I pulled back a little further, and
with an awkward jab I found her vagina and slid my cock home. She
gave a small peal of pain, and she said, breathing hard, "I
forgot... forgot to tell you... I've never... never been with a
man... before."
That stopped me in my erotic tracks. "What?" I said loudly.
"No," she said, "Don't stop. Please. Don't stop." I fought
between my desire to stop and find out what this was all about and
my desire to make love to her out here in the open. I decided on
the second and slowly slid my hips back. With an easy thrust I
slid my cock into her again. She groaned and pushed back to accept
my cock all the way into her.
I was still befuddled. A virgin? She must be, no, she is
thirty years old. I thought she had children! I shook my head in
confusion.
Fortunately, neither she nor my cock was quite so confused. I
found that comforting as I thrust in and out of her, slowly and
gently feeling her flesh clamp down around my cock with every
stroke, exploring her unique and wonderful pussy. I made love to
her there, and she leaned against the pipe railing, her hair out in
the direct sunlight glinting wonderfully. I took my hands from the
railings and as I stroked her I caressed her nipples.
"Ken..." She said, quietly, "I'm going to come, I can feel it,
oh please don't stop, please fuck me more, please," and I did as
asked, feeling the fur of her buttocks strike my naked hips with
every thrust, sliding my hands down to her hips to give me more
leverage, making love to this woman who just yesterday was my
enemy. It really was love, and I pushed on, and she dropped her
head down, completely out of control as she shuddered and bucked
with her orgasm. That was all the clue I needed, finally giving
release to my own needs and coming deep inside her, releasing my
come down into her body, coming in this shuddering, screaming
orgasm that clamped my eyes shut and made me hold on for dear life.
And then it was over. I shook my head a few times and looked
down at her. I reached down to help her up from the railing and
turned her around. She willingly let me lead her back to her
chair, and I vaguely remember asking Dave for two more lemonades.
The AI gracefully put them on the table. We sat, breathing hard
for a while, eyes closed (at least, mine were). Finally I said,
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She lolled her head up to look at me and said, "Didn't seem
important."
"Did you want me, in particular, to take your virginity like
that?"
She shook her head. "No, not in particular. It just... seemed
right, at the moment." She smiled. "I'm not a virgin, not really.
I've got three daughters, all by artsem. And I have had fem
lovers; my youngest daughter, P'maya, is being raised by Nilinda
Kixi." I nodded, curious as to her reasons for choosing such an
unusual arrangement, but I relaxed a little further nonetheless. A
repeat of Ember's little obsession I did not need. Still, Ember
had been so sweet and charming about it.
"You're still on probation," I said, picking up my lemonade and
taking a big swallow.
"I know," she said, picking up her glass as well. "But I think
I'll get over it."
--
"Journal Entry 031 / 0081 [ P'nyssa's Introduction ]"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are copyright (C) 1989-1995 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Redistribution of
this work for profit is reserved to the author. Redistribution by
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Any redistribution must include this copyright notice intact.
--
Elf Sternberg rational romantic mystic cynical idealist
elf@halcyon.com Where evolution is outlawed, only outlaws evolve
Public key available http://www.halcyon.com/elf/index.html