Mutual Recession (1)
Marissa is reborn. Stretching her lean strong limbs as though for the first time, she paws at the vacant space around her, letting her new body grow outwards as it did inwards. Eyelids drift open taking in the environment, optical senses keen and sharp as she absorbs a vast array of soft whites and powdery blues, meeting up with the broad spectrum of greens below her, at a vague horizon. She reaches out, and, her tactile senses being more acute, picks up the subtle prickling of a thousand tiny ice droplets, a small hailstorm on her paw.
Warm wind causes her armfur to ripple gently, Mari noticing this as she looks over her new body with fresh eyes. Although the build of her face is unkown, her heart soares to find herself to be a rippling landscape similar to the one to be passing at slow speed below her. Slowly her paw receeds from the gentle prickling to explore the contours of her bod. Daintily, her index digit traces its way over her shoulder, leaving a crease in her bright orange fur a trail down over her collarbone, breast, abdomen, snaking its way to the cleft of her arse, down over her thigh and ending above the knee. Marissa feels powerful, both physically and spiritually. Giggling she makes it a point to explore every nook and cranny of her new self. Carefully the point of her finger squiggles its way around like a crazed rodent.
Breathing in her first breath of new air however, she is interrupted for only a moment as she tastes the freshness of it, detecting the subtle taste of some common plant, making her mind explode with images of water being evaporated from a vast forest of evergreens. The imaginary landscape behind her eyes quickly shifted to a dry desert, tongue detecting sharp taste of joshua trees and thickets combined with the coarse taste of salt... all of this in a few micromilligrams of vapor. My how her senses were acute.
Conning-tower ears perk in recognition of her whereabouts, and like a craft propelled by positive emotion, she twirls through space, dipping towards the green which had begun to spring forests, rivers and stretches of blue water with a deep enough hue to contest the one above her. Marissa wasn't alone. Although she could have burst with the multitudes of sensations and emotions, possesing enough feeling to fill a stadium, there was something she had missed, a critical lapse in memory causing her to forget an important component for her here-and-now. Shutting her eyes tightly she could see Peter, tall, trimmed and sturdy... yes that was what she was missing... Peter was missing. Already she could feel a dull ache, an empty seat in her stadium of emotion, the need to be held, caressed by her love. She feels her arms wrap around her, an inadequate tool for comfort.
Mari's dry eyes open to find that night had replaced day. As she is taken over by a sudden wave of grief, her nostrils widen picking up a new scent. Unlike the crisp clean odors and tastes she had thus far encountered in her new life, this one was deep, a fantastic musk which was so foreign and exotic, bringing to mind the subte hints of tea, apricots, and even a slight hint of ammonia.She reaches out into the night only to find it solid, sturdy. Mari also begins to notice the arms wrapped around her were indeed not hers, but much larger, and unlike her orange fur, they were india ink... velet black, just like.. peter. Tilting her head upwards, she finds herself hooked into those fantastic golden eyes of his. God how she would lose herself, just as she lost herself now, in his warm embrace as they floated through the air. His mouth moved, yet no sound came out, as though he were mute.. but Mari could remember, before she was reborn, how Peter had the most fantastic voice.. deep and rich like chocolate, yet powerful... enough to give Barry Eugene White a run for his money , the fact that she couldn't hear him again seemed almost a sinful waste.
She wants him, as though it has been an eternity since they had touched, kissed, made love... slowly she pushes up against him, breasts squashed into his firm chest as she nuzzles his neck timidly. Despite his silence she could feel the small trembles of a purr in his throat, along with the throbbing of the carteroid artery at his neck which rested rigth below her lips. Bolder now, almost aching for him, she drew to his lips, where she bit playfully, teasingly, for a few seconds, until the tension was too great and she pushed her own mouth to his, the rush of warm air from his throat melting into her like coffee. easing up against him, she parted her thighs, clinging now. She could feel peter's paws slide down savoring every inch of her, milking the moment before he began. As they clasped her hips Mari was suddenly overcome with the sheer urged to be filled, to be rammed like an animal, her new body tensing, waiting to be broken. Carefully she pushed away, jawline tensed with anticipation as she whipsered gently "show how much you love me babe.."
The first thrust was truly intense. As though the sensations were slowed donw in play-by-play, she could feel the crown of his shaft slowly part the lips of her burning sex, each seperate rapture noted until pleasure reached white hot intensity, nearly crossing the fine line into pain, but Peter pulled out again, the feeling of her well-lubed canal grinding his meat a seperate euphoria all on it's own. In concious thought she could feel his pace quickening. Her head pushed into his shoulder, she could feel his pulse quicken, and against her breasts transmitted the soft thumps of an ever-quickening heart. On her cloud-nine however, Mari could only feel the electrical surges which coursed up her spine and to her very extremities as he pushed into her again and again, each stroke more intense than the last. It was this that Mari longed for.
The violent pounding, the fantastic wet warm feeling she felt inside as her 'tender cunt was fucked to ribbons as Peter continued relentlessly. Sweat beading on both of them, Mari throws her head back, gasping for air as fireworks go off behind her eyes. Her body shudders as it gives way to climax as Peter pushes for the final time. She can feel them be complete. Even on the molecular level, their fluids were combining, and she deeply truly felt as though they were one.
As the surges of ecstasy begin to die down, Mari opens her eyes again. They were both sweaty and she is delighted to find beads shimmering over him, as though his chest were a starry midnight sky. The feelings of joy being too much to handle, Mari breaks down, sobbing tears of joy into Peter's chest. On the back of her head she could feel his heavy reassuring paw, it being there as it had always been, or so it feels like. "Peter.. I missed you so much" he was talking, in response, but no sound came. Hoping to decipher what he was saying by reading his lips Mari looks up, only to find Peter's brilliant golden orbs, replaced by dark pits.
This time the night had come, and Peter had become a part of it. Darkness spreads from the corners of the universe and engulfs them both. Mari could feel a shaft violating her, but spent, all she could do was throw her head back, and give off a gutteral graon. Arms and legs died away, floating uselessly in the air as another dark force impaled her anus, spreading her buttocks wide and causing a bittersweet mix of pain and pleasure. Like an ebon tide, the darkness rolled over her. She was drowning in it, feeling it fill her, nose mouth.. she smells blood, fear, death, rape feels torture, hears screaming.. it is her own, her desperate cries for someone to save her.. peter..
Even as she escapes her dreamworld, Mari continued to call his name, although not nearly as loudly. eyes caked with tears she slowly repeated the word over and over again, hoping that maybe he might reappear, that some benevolent force might see her yearning and have her love materialize just like that. Slowly her hope faded away, as did her quiet chanting and the memories the pseudo -nightmare had left behind: his smell his feel.. she cursed any higher force for making it seem so damn... true, as though she had been there in his arms. Mari felt like a beggar child, having her petty change stolen by an aristocrat.
Mari rolled onto her side only to feel an odd wetness. The sheets had been messed, Mari giving a curse under her breath as she realised this. Hell of a way to start a tuesday morning.
Ignoring the dampened sheets, she shook off the last few clinging senses the dream had left her with and got out of bed, rubing the sleep from her eyes.
From her room she could only see parts of the kitchen, most of which was a deep indigo, and the rest shrouded in darkness. Stepping lightly on the tiles, Mari made her way, barefoot to the bathroom at the end of the hall. On the walls, farmers tilled in the fields, a red brick house shone in the sunshine, two little gatos playing by a brook... all of these things seemed like a different world, no pollution no greed no corruption.. just vast sunny fields, fresh air and the laziest sundays where it was okay to just stay in by a cozy fire with a good book. mari regarded the portraits with a mixed sense of anger, envy and an immense longing.
"I'm telling you Mari... if I play my cards right, we can move to this great little house somewhere in the adarondacks, or maybe California.. a place near sacramento, great little whitewashed bungalow and neigbors that we're close enough to get aqcuainted with, but just far enough so they dont call the cops during one of our more rowdy games of yahtzee..." She cursed under her breath silently, adding to peter's imaginary voice "These pictures, are absolute bullshit..." A bitter resentful, and incoherent message, evidence of a shattered mind... or at least one to which a few pieves ere lost and gone forever. To her extreme relief, the imaginary voice did not retort.
The small bath was functional, at best. A small combination shower and bath had been crammed into one wall, sink and toilet on the one adjacent, leaving little to nil room for navigation. A small towel rack had been installed opposite, supported mainly by the myriad of rattling copper pipes which passed unfazed through the bathroom. On some occasions, Mari would get the impression of being in a large metal treehouse, branches piercing her small tiled hideaway.
She walked over to the tub and stooped down, fiddling with the faucets until a jet of pleasantly hot water spat from the showerhead. Stripping away her clothes, she seemed to toy with the idea of sniffing her panties, hoping maybe to find the ammonial scent of Peter's musk. She quickly rejected the idea, knowing that once she had crossed the panty-sniffing line, she'd have to get herself committed to an asylum, where they let you sit in a nice rubber room, and gave you all the soiled underwear you could ask for.
She let out a melancholic laugh, followed by a subtle groan, as though her thoughts were a type of odd omen.
The alley stunk of rotting garbage and urine, depressions in the concrete having created a series of small puddles, one of which Daniel Benj had been kneeling in, head tilted forward, wiping bile from his muzzle.
His mouth still tasted of vomit, along with the omnipresence of styrofoam. Food had long ago lost it's meaning to him, now nothing but an array of candy bars to keep him going, until he could scrounge up enough money, until he got his next hit. Somewhere, a car horn blared and obscenities were exchanged.
Nothing was felt anymore. Sound barely made it through , smell nonexistent... warmth could only be felt walking hand-in-hand with inebriation. Thank you Absolut.
He shivered, still sitting reverent, knees and legs soaked.. he felt the cold though. Always cold, the lengthy time spans between highs, nights spent wandering the pavement, searching, forever lost, doomed to perish in the maze of concrete and steel. Already he could see it now, his corpse eaten away by flies and bacterium, stuffed either in a drainpipe or a dumpster, easy reach for vermin.
Numb with fear, fatigue and the constant chill, small refrigerator in his chest always going, he slowly weaved his way from the alley, coming out of the gloom and into the grey, rainy morning not all-too welcoming. Nearly colliding with a seven foot mastiff in a trenchcoat, he carefully made his way up Ingrid avenue, onto Dent, where he'd hope to take the subway uptown... the red plateau.
Showered, Mari toweled off, Large cotton rectangle doing it's work effectively, clumping her fur in one place or another. The daily rituals had consumed her and she went about her tasks: Brushing, flossing, gurgling mouthwash, all the while looking at herself in the mirror, all the while hating the reflection that stared back at her with a cruel indifference.
For her mid-thirties, Marissa San Rae was radiant, albeit her not being able to see it. A vixen by nature, she had been born with coal hair which had proceeded to grow thick and sleek, but was let to hang, devoid of anyu artificial volume provided by conditioners or gels. Eyes contained a now-dulled blue, a murky ocean in those haunted orbs.. and a physique that would make any male blush, despite her relentless denial of such.
He soul had aged far more than her body, evidence in her corneas. Once nearly cheerful, indigo, they had become almost steel, matching up with the clouds which twirled overhead, visible through the small window shoved near the cieling, not releasing rain, nor moving on.. just there, watching as no all-seeing eye could. Mari pounded her fist against the sink, toothbrush rattling and dropping to the floor. She cursed the force which hid behind those clouds, the cheshire cat through the looking glass, only it's evil smile winking at her, taunting...
Leaving the harsh fluorescent light on in the bathroom, Mari proceeded back into the kitchen, filling up a kettle full of tapwater and setting it on the stove. From the pantry she removed a puch of Orange Peckoe and set it on the coutner, already getting to work with a few slices of bread and an uncooperative toaster.
Losing herself in the little mundane chores of life, Mari could nearly ignore the ache she felt. The modest breakfast, the nearly obsessive cleanliness of the kitchen... all of it was her painkiller, dulling the cold throbs and sweats, or the occasional breakdown she had now-and-then. Some say she should go to therapy, and were promptly told to kiss her ass.
Even soaked with butter, the toast was like a thick wad of paper, and the heavily steeped and supersaturated tea held no more flavor than tapwater, leaving nil, save for a coppery aftertaste at the back of her mouth. Life was indeed unfair, yet rarely in her favor.
The plateau was a run-down, seedy part of town, mainly visited by whores, inebriates and the occasionally ballsy DEA agent. It stunk worse here than downtown, but it felt like home. Bleary eyed and dreadfully tired, Daniel climed his way from the subway, shuffling his way around.
Diner was a good place to start. Sharing the name with the type of building it had nothing to do with, Diner was only a few blocks from the station and it wasn't long before the tin roof poked out from the other buildings. The place had been his unofficial home for nearly four years, red brick building an abbey in his eyes, a place of sanctuary and rest until he took onto his journeys again.
Crossing through the peeling green doors, daniel was met with the familiar scent of mold, dirty carptet and cheap whores. Even with a blunt olfactory sense, it wasn't difficult to pick up the unique gamey aroma of musk and low-grade whiskey on the girls.
Pushing past two fairly intertwined gato femmes, Daniel made his way to the small bar. Years ago, the building was a low-grade hotel. Later, a hostel, and most recently, a brothel, bought up and stripped away to the basics by Karl White, faux entrepeneur extraordinaire.
White had been Dan's fellow partner-in-crime, but had strayed away from the petty lowlife scene to end up owning some of the most attractive and popular spots in the plateau... even some of the cleanest.
Daniel stood in what used to be the kitchen of the house, formica countertops having been replaced by low-grade artificial wood, only because it resisted stains. Somewhat.
Marcia, or as her fellow working girls had labeled her, Mercy, was working the tap tonight. Mercy, like most of the other girls was a feline, petite and fairly attractive, with a generous bust and full pouty lips. Unfortunately, poor temper and tongue-in-cheek attitude had usually landed her a spot tending the bar. Mercy could be quite effective at herding out drunks.
"Danny, you're back!" Marcia's face lit up, skin below her creamy fur pulling taught on cheekbones, dimples also visible. Damn, she had a great smile.
"Hey Mercy... you've seen White?"
"Mother superior? he's in the back... probably jackin' off for all I know. Why, you want to see him?" Karl's strict manner and devoit adherence to Roman Catholicism had earned him the term. Maybe the girls didn't know that the pope didn't condone prostitution, especially if he couldn't get in on the action.
"Can't I say hello to an old friend?"
"Hon, last time you came and said hello, I had to give you seventy-five dollars so you wouldn't get your legs broken. You're lucky you're Mother's friend, or else me and the girls would have cornered you in an alley and would have shown you what we can do in stilletos" She laughed, but Daniel felt uneasy. Mainly because she wasn't bluffing.
"Nah, this time it's just a formal salutation. Maybe I can convince him to let me sleep the night. 'pparently, it's gonna rain like hell"
"M'sure one of the rooms'll be open. Tuesday nights is pretty quiet." Reaching around mercy lifted the wooden flap allowing access to the room behind the bar, to the door on which had been spelled with flourish "Manager"