NaNo Ridiculousness Day 3
Hey there,
Here's Day 3 of "I Prefer the Mind Control." Enjoy the NSFW ridiculousness!
Day 1, Day 2
---------
While I worried about my sexiness, Xan apparently didn't. Those looks he kept shooting me? Helpful when I was a little confidence-deficient. Aliens may have mind-boggling taste, but they did appear to want me, odd as it was. I suppose that's a convention of the genre you're writing in? What exactly is the genre of this thing anyway? I can't seem to figure it out. As a fictional character, it might be helpful to know the genre, so I can avoid the pitfalls of said genre. Though I suppose if you're writing me, you'll put me in the pitfalls if it suits you, won't you?
Anyway, Berri handed me another outfit and told me to try it on. This one contained long pants, but that didn't make it any more fucking conservative. The pants? Tight as fuck. They were comfortable, though, so that was good. I supposed Zimarans had magical space-age clothing technology, plus uncomfortable clothing just wouldn't be fucking sexy, you know? The shirt that went with that next pair of black pants? Silvery and sheer as anything. These guys possessed the secret to clothes that made you more naked. Impressive.
Xan was certainly impressed, as he walked over and kissed me. And grabbed my ass.
“You feel as good as you look,” he murmured.
That warranted some more laser-blushing, and, soon enough, I had an entire wardrobe of sexy clothes, including shoes, all in various combos of black and silver. Some clothes were more formal than others, but absolutely nothing in the wardrobe could be considered remotely conservative. I wondered what Preston would say about my new clothing. He had a thing for fashion, so I bet he would have plenty of comments. That made me think I ought to contact him, and my parents, soon. I assumed they all would want to know I had survived my trip. Barely, but, hey, not dead.
I liked not being dead.
Something beeped. It was Jirrin's own whatsit. He looked at it, annoyance crossing his face.
He grumbled, “I have to go. Work is calling me. I would much rather stay, but apparently something exploded and they want me to help deal with it. How some of the tech people here even got to work in the Palace, I don't know. And they call me a 'noble twit,' some of them...”
Jirrin stalked off. He didn't say goodbye, being too absorbed in the explosive annoyance. I wondered what the fuck that was all about. I didn't know he even had a job. Sure, he had said he was a programmer, but I thought it was more an “idle nobleman's hobby” sort of deal, not the kind of deal where you could be called away to handle fucking explosions. Wasn't he too young to be deal with things that went boom?
“You guys have, like, Palace programmers?” I wondered.
“Indeed,” Xan said. “My parents actually instituted the technology program here. Of course, the Palace isn't the main center of research for Zimara, but we do fund and support technological exploration, as well as having the aforementioned small research center on-site. Jirrin works there. His parents don't approve of his.”
“Why not? Technology is a respectable field, isn't it? What, are noblemen, like, contractually obligated to be useless or something?” Back home, not having a job would be looked down upon, not like jobs were easy to come by what with the fucking astronomical unemployment rates since President Bradley cut funding for, like, everything ever. How she even got elected in the first place, I didn't fucking know.
Xan chuckled, though it sounded kind of sad. “There's no official contract, but it's not socially acceptable for your average noble to do anything like an ordinary person's job. They're supposed to concentrate on managing their estates, a lot of which is socially-based. Even many duties of that are given to trusted advisers. So, yes, in a way, nobles are obligated to be useless. Especially if they're not chosen as Representative of their estate. Jirrin's brother won that particular competition, so he shouldn't be doing anything but idling around or helping his brother. Many do take jobs, but they're not usually programmers like Jirrin.”
“Damn. That makes it sound good to be a peasant like me.” Laziness was one thing, but enforced laziness would fucking suck.
He quirked a smile. “Perhaps it does make it sound good to be a peasant, but there's something you're forgetting, Dylan.”
Berri giggled. “Indeed.”
What was I forgetting? I couldn't think of anything, but those two gave off clear “you're missing the obvious” vibes.
I asked, “What am I forgetting?”
“You're not really a peasant anymore, are you?” Xan said.
Huh? “Okay, I'm from a city and my parents weren't, you know, actual farmers or anything like that. My dad teaches high school English and my mom works at an office managing...something boring that has to do with selling office equipment to other companies. Basic middle-class type stuff, really. 'Peasant' is kind of inaccurate, but none of us are nobility or super-rich or anything. So yeah, 'peasant' compared to you, anyway.”
His eyes twinkled. What was with the fucking twinkling? My explanation made total sense, but Xan clearly didn't think so. He explained, “Well, perhaps you came from a 'common' background, but your status has changed dramatically since you're mine now. Being attached to me means you can no longer really consider yourself a common man.”
What?
I tried to process this. It felt weird to think about it, honestly. Like, okay, everything that had happened to me recently was fucking weird. So why should this “not a peasant anymore” stuff freak me out any worse than anything else? It didn't, really, but my brain had to stop and absorb the idea. I worried I might go into “weird shit overload” eventually and have my head explode from everything. I didn't feel angsty, but...a human brain could only take so much. Wait, my brain wasn't fucking human anymore, not completely. I hoped my enhanced brain would handle everything because what other weirdness are you planning to throw at me?
“Even though we're not official or anything, I still count as a not-peasant?” I asked.
“If I say you're not a peasant, you're not. Since you're my guest you really don't count as one,” Xan said.
“You're too pretty to be a peasant!” Berri exclaimed.
I didn't exactly get that, because while I was sure nobility could afford alien plastic surgery, peasants weren't magically excluded from being pretty. Right? Besides, everybody on this damn planet was Mary Sue levels of pretty. Even me, apparently. Still didn't quite believe that one. Zimarans had, like, fucking auras of attractiveness. I didn't have one, except I did. So, you know, that was fucking weird.
“You really think I'm pretty?” I couldn't help myself, okay?
“Are you fishing for compliments?” Berri asked. “It's obvious you're pretty.”
Xan raised an eyebrow, though he was smiling. “You're not doubting my tastes, are you?”
“But you're all fucking Mary Sues on this planet!” I protested.
Wait, did I really just fucking say that? Zimarans would have no fucking idea what a Mary Sue even was. I was damn sure that the term was Earth-specific and a human-only cultural phenomenon.
“Excuse me?” they both wondered simultaneously. The two of them gave me “what are you on about?” looks of serious skepticism.
I sighed. “Excuse me and my use of human stuff to explain my perfectly understandable insecurity over my appearance. See, a Mary Sue is a type of character who appears in Earthling fiction. They're obnoxiously perfect characters who everyone in the story loves who have like ridiculous skills for no reason and who beat everyone ever at everything ever. They're impossibly pretty with unusual physical features like violet fucking eyes and everyone wants to sleep with them because they're just so ridiculously desirable.”
Did that make any sense to Xan or Berri? Nobody had trained me as a cultural liaison so I could be spouting fucking gibberish for all I knew. In fact, gibberish was highly likely in this situation. Fanfiction confused me enough as an Earthling sometimes.
Xan gave me an indescribable look. “Impossibly pretty, hmm? Like yourself?”
“I am not impossibly pretty. Not like you are,” I objected.
He stared me directly in my eyes, looking right into my maybe-soul. “It's not up to you to decide if you're impossibly pretty or not. That's for me to decide, and I say you are. And you're far more of a 'Mary Sue' than I am, considering how so many people here seem to want you. I don't blame them, you are an extremely attractive plaything.”
To prove his point, he came over and kissed me. It wasn't just a light kiss, either. He pressed his tongue into my mouth and slid a hand under my tiny shirt. I relaxed into his advances. Xan stopped long enough to whisper, “Do you believe me now?”
I couldn't really answer him because he kissed me again, roughly. He raked his nails along my back, and I moaned into his lips. Damn, that felt good. And yes, I believed him then because Xan certainly was fucking enthusiastic.
Enthusiastic enough to guide me to the ground and lie down on top of me on the dais.
Berri said, “When you're done, you have to remember to pay for the clothes. I know sex makes people's minds foggy. It's happened before, so just remember, alright?”
Xan said, “I'll remember when I'm done with him.”
“Just be sure!”
He ignored Berri, kissing me again, biting down, gently enough, on my bottom lip. The kissing quickly moved away from my mouth, with Xan going for my neck. He wasn't so gentle there, biting down hard enough that I yelped from the pain and the pleasure. I liked it when he did that, and I think he knew it.
Xan murmured, “Oh, I know how much you enjoy that, pretty one.”
He did know it. Somehow, Xan knew how to push my buttons, some of which I didn't even know I had before I met him. Must have been the sexy mind control, or maybe it was just me. Whatever it was, it was good.
I writhed beneath him, letting the pleasure overtake me as he worked. Xan stopped kissing and smiled at me, bronze eyes twinkling in that particularly enchanting way. His eyes would grant me a soul and steal it, and I didn't fucking care how ridiculous that sounded. I couldn't help smiling back, especially when he pulled my shirt off of me.
A ache built within me. I pleaded, “Take me.”
Xan smirked. “I intend to.”
My breathing grew harsher from hearing that. Xan didn't appear to be in the mood for wasting time because he tore off his pants in no time at all, before pulling off my tiny little shorts.
He growled, “I'm going to fuck you now.” Xan spread my legs apart and positioned himself. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed himself inside me. I cried out, feeling very fucking stretched. It felt awesome, especially when he took my legs and bent me nearly in half.
“Good boy,” he purred. “You know you're at my mercy, right?”
I couldn't answer him, only being able to make strange strangled noises from the terrific fucking sensation. As he thrust, my ache increased. It grew even worse when he grasped my length, stroking me lightly. I didn't think I would last very long at this rate. The noises coming out of me became less and less human. Xan didn't lie; I was definitely at his mercy. And I fucking loved it. The more times he took me, the more I wanted to his.
Here's Day 3 of "I Prefer the Mind Control." Enjoy the NSFW ridiculousness!
Day 1, Day 2
---------
While I worried about my sexiness, Xan apparently didn't. Those looks he kept shooting me? Helpful when I was a little confidence-deficient. Aliens may have mind-boggling taste, but they did appear to want me, odd as it was. I suppose that's a convention of the genre you're writing in? What exactly is the genre of this thing anyway? I can't seem to figure it out. As a fictional character, it might be helpful to know the genre, so I can avoid the pitfalls of said genre. Though I suppose if you're writing me, you'll put me in the pitfalls if it suits you, won't you?
Anyway, Berri handed me another outfit and told me to try it on. This one contained long pants, but that didn't make it any more fucking conservative. The pants? Tight as fuck. They were comfortable, though, so that was good. I supposed Zimarans had magical space-age clothing technology, plus uncomfortable clothing just wouldn't be fucking sexy, you know? The shirt that went with that next pair of black pants? Silvery and sheer as anything. These guys possessed the secret to clothes that made you more naked. Impressive.
Xan was certainly impressed, as he walked over and kissed me. And grabbed my ass.
“You feel as good as you look,” he murmured.
That warranted some more laser-blushing, and, soon enough, I had an entire wardrobe of sexy clothes, including shoes, all in various combos of black and silver. Some clothes were more formal than others, but absolutely nothing in the wardrobe could be considered remotely conservative. I wondered what Preston would say about my new clothing. He had a thing for fashion, so I bet he would have plenty of comments. That made me think I ought to contact him, and my parents, soon. I assumed they all would want to know I had survived my trip. Barely, but, hey, not dead.
I liked not being dead.
Something beeped. It was Jirrin's own whatsit. He looked at it, annoyance crossing his face.
He grumbled, “I have to go. Work is calling me. I would much rather stay, but apparently something exploded and they want me to help deal with it. How some of the tech people here even got to work in the Palace, I don't know. And they call me a 'noble twit,' some of them...”
Jirrin stalked off. He didn't say goodbye, being too absorbed in the explosive annoyance. I wondered what the fuck that was all about. I didn't know he even had a job. Sure, he had said he was a programmer, but I thought it was more an “idle nobleman's hobby” sort of deal, not the kind of deal where you could be called away to handle fucking explosions. Wasn't he too young to be deal with things that went boom?
“You guys have, like, Palace programmers?” I wondered.
“Indeed,” Xan said. “My parents actually instituted the technology program here. Of course, the Palace isn't the main center of research for Zimara, but we do fund and support technological exploration, as well as having the aforementioned small research center on-site. Jirrin works there. His parents don't approve of his.”
“Why not? Technology is a respectable field, isn't it? What, are noblemen, like, contractually obligated to be useless or something?” Back home, not having a job would be looked down upon, not like jobs were easy to come by what with the fucking astronomical unemployment rates since President Bradley cut funding for, like, everything ever. How she even got elected in the first place, I didn't fucking know.
Xan chuckled, though it sounded kind of sad. “There's no official contract, but it's not socially acceptable for your average noble to do anything like an ordinary person's job. They're supposed to concentrate on managing their estates, a lot of which is socially-based. Even many duties of that are given to trusted advisers. So, yes, in a way, nobles are obligated to be useless. Especially if they're not chosen as Representative of their estate. Jirrin's brother won that particular competition, so he shouldn't be doing anything but idling around or helping his brother. Many do take jobs, but they're not usually programmers like Jirrin.”
“Damn. That makes it sound good to be a peasant like me.” Laziness was one thing, but enforced laziness would fucking suck.
He quirked a smile. “Perhaps it does make it sound good to be a peasant, but there's something you're forgetting, Dylan.”
Berri giggled. “Indeed.”
What was I forgetting? I couldn't think of anything, but those two gave off clear “you're missing the obvious” vibes.
I asked, “What am I forgetting?”
“You're not really a peasant anymore, are you?” Xan said.
Huh? “Okay, I'm from a city and my parents weren't, you know, actual farmers or anything like that. My dad teaches high school English and my mom works at an office managing...something boring that has to do with selling office equipment to other companies. Basic middle-class type stuff, really. 'Peasant' is kind of inaccurate, but none of us are nobility or super-rich or anything. So yeah, 'peasant' compared to you, anyway.”
His eyes twinkled. What was with the fucking twinkling? My explanation made total sense, but Xan clearly didn't think so. He explained, “Well, perhaps you came from a 'common' background, but your status has changed dramatically since you're mine now. Being attached to me means you can no longer really consider yourself a common man.”
What?
I tried to process this. It felt weird to think about it, honestly. Like, okay, everything that had happened to me recently was fucking weird. So why should this “not a peasant anymore” stuff freak me out any worse than anything else? It didn't, really, but my brain had to stop and absorb the idea. I worried I might go into “weird shit overload” eventually and have my head explode from everything. I didn't feel angsty, but...a human brain could only take so much. Wait, my brain wasn't fucking human anymore, not completely. I hoped my enhanced brain would handle everything because what other weirdness are you planning to throw at me?
“Even though we're not official or anything, I still count as a not-peasant?” I asked.
“If I say you're not a peasant, you're not. Since you're my guest you really don't count as one,” Xan said.
“You're too pretty to be a peasant!” Berri exclaimed.
I didn't exactly get that, because while I was sure nobility could afford alien plastic surgery, peasants weren't magically excluded from being pretty. Right? Besides, everybody on this damn planet was Mary Sue levels of pretty. Even me, apparently. Still didn't quite believe that one. Zimarans had, like, fucking auras of attractiveness. I didn't have one, except I did. So, you know, that was fucking weird.
“You really think I'm pretty?” I couldn't help myself, okay?
“Are you fishing for compliments?” Berri asked. “It's obvious you're pretty.”
Xan raised an eyebrow, though he was smiling. “You're not doubting my tastes, are you?”
“But you're all fucking Mary Sues on this planet!” I protested.
Wait, did I really just fucking say that? Zimarans would have no fucking idea what a Mary Sue even was. I was damn sure that the term was Earth-specific and a human-only cultural phenomenon.
“Excuse me?” they both wondered simultaneously. The two of them gave me “what are you on about?” looks of serious skepticism.
I sighed. “Excuse me and my use of human stuff to explain my perfectly understandable insecurity over my appearance. See, a Mary Sue is a type of character who appears in Earthling fiction. They're obnoxiously perfect characters who everyone in the story loves who have like ridiculous skills for no reason and who beat everyone ever at everything ever. They're impossibly pretty with unusual physical features like violet fucking eyes and everyone wants to sleep with them because they're just so ridiculously desirable.”
Did that make any sense to Xan or Berri? Nobody had trained me as a cultural liaison so I could be spouting fucking gibberish for all I knew. In fact, gibberish was highly likely in this situation. Fanfiction confused me enough as an Earthling sometimes.
Xan gave me an indescribable look. “Impossibly pretty, hmm? Like yourself?”
“I am not impossibly pretty. Not like you are,” I objected.
He stared me directly in my eyes, looking right into my maybe-soul. “It's not up to you to decide if you're impossibly pretty or not. That's for me to decide, and I say you are. And you're far more of a 'Mary Sue' than I am, considering how so many people here seem to want you. I don't blame them, you are an extremely attractive plaything.”
To prove his point, he came over and kissed me. It wasn't just a light kiss, either. He pressed his tongue into my mouth and slid a hand under my tiny shirt. I relaxed into his advances. Xan stopped long enough to whisper, “Do you believe me now?”
I couldn't really answer him because he kissed me again, roughly. He raked his nails along my back, and I moaned into his lips. Damn, that felt good. And yes, I believed him then because Xan certainly was fucking enthusiastic.
Enthusiastic enough to guide me to the ground and lie down on top of me on the dais.
Berri said, “When you're done, you have to remember to pay for the clothes. I know sex makes people's minds foggy. It's happened before, so just remember, alright?”
Xan said, “I'll remember when I'm done with him.”
“Just be sure!”
He ignored Berri, kissing me again, biting down, gently enough, on my bottom lip. The kissing quickly moved away from my mouth, with Xan going for my neck. He wasn't so gentle there, biting down hard enough that I yelped from the pain and the pleasure. I liked it when he did that, and I think he knew it.
Xan murmured, “Oh, I know how much you enjoy that, pretty one.”
He did know it. Somehow, Xan knew how to push my buttons, some of which I didn't even know I had before I met him. Must have been the sexy mind control, or maybe it was just me. Whatever it was, it was good.
I writhed beneath him, letting the pleasure overtake me as he worked. Xan stopped kissing and smiled at me, bronze eyes twinkling in that particularly enchanting way. His eyes would grant me a soul and steal it, and I didn't fucking care how ridiculous that sounded. I couldn't help smiling back, especially when he pulled my shirt off of me.
A ache built within me. I pleaded, “Take me.”
Xan smirked. “I intend to.”
My breathing grew harsher from hearing that. Xan didn't appear to be in the mood for wasting time because he tore off his pants in no time at all, before pulling off my tiny little shorts.
He growled, “I'm going to fuck you now.” Xan spread my legs apart and positioned himself. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed himself inside me. I cried out, feeling very fucking stretched. It felt awesome, especially when he took my legs and bent me nearly in half.
“Good boy,” he purred. “You know you're at my mercy, right?”
I couldn't answer him, only being able to make strange strangled noises from the terrific fucking sensation. As he thrust, my ache increased. It grew even worse when he grasped my length, stroking me lightly. I didn't think I would last very long at this rate. The noises coming out of me became less and less human. Xan didn't lie; I was definitely at his mercy. And I fucking loved it. The more times he took me, the more I wanted to his.