[Conscious of a King]: Mutineer Without Reason
Conscious of a King:
Mutineer Without Reason "Imagine if you will..."-BeaverReturn
My companions, my fellow workers, the ones I had begun to see as mentors, had all found their jobs for the night leaving me alone within a dreamscape snowy scene. As I stood on frozen pavement beneath a single streetlight, I waited like a helpless minnow caught in a rapid stream; the waters of fate guiding me along a path I struggled to swim against. In my boredom, in wishing to no longer think of the cold air around me, I first turned my mind to the past as I began to recollect with much regret each milestone that brought me to stand alone on this winterized street. In the visions that flashed within my mind's eye I could see a fawn who dreamed for a better life, a teenager who ran away from home and made his big move to the big city: I remembered that time when my ambitions tainted my thoughts with dreams of celebrity-- and then like the punch of a young man's first swig of whiskey the rest of my memories appeared: my first failed audition, my second failed audition, my third failed--Evidently, I found no purpose in thinking of the past anymore, so I restarted my mind and began to consider the cold air once again. The air's sting much lighter then the sting of my own realized failures.
As I shivered in the red parka coat to which I was forced to leave open and with hood down ("Keep the hood down so they can see your face, keep the jacket open so they can see your body."), large snowflakes fell all around me. Their commutative and crystal canvases contrasted the cold uncoloured backdrop of the street's rusted and urbanized stretch of this city's industrial quarter. Moving like the busy bodies one would see Downtown (or perhaps like minnows themselves) they crossed each other's paths as urban winds carried them every which way. Despite the crossings of these snowflakes, it was rare to see a snowflake bump into each other and in observing this a second coldness grasped my body.
It was then that I decided that the street where I worked had actually been three ways cold: cold in air, cold in people and cold in surroundings. Across the street, my 'boss' stared at me from within the warmth of his personal and quite luxurious car. The glow of his cigarette, which he smoked between two canine lips, shined ominously behind a pane of half-tinted glass that like a devil's eye glared at me from the darkest abysses of hell.
I tried not to acknowledge him. Doing so would show ill-confidence, an unwillingness to work, an impropriety in the face of my 'boss' that would only further encourage his will to abandon me. But as I stood alone, the last to be chosen amongst a group of veterans who became immediately picked off by their "regulars," I feared my profitability would not be realized and I would come to the conclusion that I even fail at being the lowest of lows.
At the end of the street, framed along the road between a rusted and urbanized warehouse and the lot of a low-rent movie studio a glint of headlights shined two white streaks that stretched down to my position. The tip of their beams resting just at the edge my hoof-feet which came from shining eyes that were all too quick in catching my attention. At first my joy corrupts my body and behind me a tiny puff of fur (white on the bottom, light brown on top) began to shiver and wag. But quickly, forcing upon myself my own will, I halted my cervidae tail, and immediately took an actor's breath so that I could assume the role my boss thought best for me to act.
I was a young adult but in my boss's eye I would be sold as a rebellious teenager. My antlers shaved down as to offer the allusion of permanent adolescents, it was with my red parka jacket, my one-size-too-small white shirt with cigarettes in the sleeve, and ass-fitted blue jeans, that I allegorically took on the image of a real life Jim Stork (played by real-life actor James Deer), the atypical troubled teenaged character from the film: Mutineer Without Reason.
Leaning backwards, letting one hoof-foot rest on the pole behind me, I shoved my hands into the pocket of the parka. At first I turned my head away but as the car slowed down as to offer a proper viewing of me I turned my head to face him, giving him a word-full glare, "What are you looking at?"
'Success!' I ecstatically thought in my head as a rhinoceros rolled down the window of his beat up and clunky Volvo car.
"Hey kid! Zip up your jacket. You'll catch a cold." The older man joked, the tip of his nasal horn scrapping along the top of his car so that it left little scratch marks along the roof.
"Don't tell me what to do Old Man." I retorted, putting on a facade of coolness.
He snorted a heavy rhino's breath my way and my heart sank. Had I offended him already? Had I overacted? Had I gone too far into character and upset him? My mind panicked a while but then stopped when I saw his old eyes fall and then rise as he scanned my body. He smiled, but did so awkwardly. It was as though in trying to hide his uncertainty he became stuck halfway between a nervous smile and a greedy, lusty, sexy smile. I tried to hold back a giggle as he fingered me over towards his window,
"How much kid?"
I told him my price. But to save my own embarrassment, I will keep that price a secret between him and I.
"I haven't seen you round these parts before? You new here?"
"Yeah..."I reluctantly acted, shrugging off the comment.
"Ever been with a man?"Before his hand had been on the car's gearshift but now he had slowly moved it over his rounded belly so that it rested on the crotch of his work pants. Kneading with grey wrinkled fingers, his skin a tough hide, he played with whatever insatiable desire began to arise beneath. As the arising member imprinted onto the pleat of the inner pant I could give early witness to the not-so impressive size of his central genital.
"Yeah..." I shrugged again, keeping my hands inside my jacket, "A couple."
"What's your name kid?"
"Jim Stork."
"Well Jim Stork. Want to go for a ride?"
I almost burst into laughter at the cheesiness of the line. But, in assuming the role of Jim Stork, I held all emotion in with an aggravated silence, my lips vaulted.
Beside me was my bag, quickly I grabbed it, slung it around my shoulder and got into the passenger side of the rhino's Volvo. As I sat, surprisingly my posterior met heated seating and I was immediately thankful for the luxury. Not only did it quickly warm up my body, it offered a kind of calming sensation that helped ease the reality that this man was going to be my first trick.
During the drive back to his place we exchanged some predictable pleasantries. I found out his name was Rick, he worked at the Steel Mill, and he often drove the back roads of this industrial quarter and admitted that he often fantasized about the boys he saw. Apparently he was afraid to act on the desire because of his wife. But now since they were recently divorced, he thought a good way to get back at her was to act on that fantasy.
Where he spent the rest of the drive with his eyes on the road, telling his often dull life story ("Uhh...Then I guess I ended up working at the...Uhhh...Factory...") I spent the drive with my eyes on the rhino, with vaulted lips once more--once more in utter silence. It was almost comical the way he fitted inside his car. It was a size too small for him and thus he was forced to drive it cramped, slouched over, and with every bump he hit, the tip of his horn would puncture the roof so that the roof looked like the top of a salt shaker. But he did not seem any bit uncomfortable. He seemed to take refuge in the fact that this was "his" car--perhaps the only lasting relic from the divorce, and as such he seemed thankful for its luxury. It was in this thankfulness that an everlasting smile was cracked over his old face. And as he told stories I cared not to listen to, I knew this man was a simple man and in that distinction I felt less apprehensive in what was to take place that night.
His apartment spoke of his newly appointed bachelor status. An odd, certainly unpleasant stench filled the room but I could not identify it. In this apartment, the living room and the kitchen were combined into one room. The living room consisted of a pulled futon with matted brown cotton blanket, a table, and a TV, and the entire kitchen was a tiled patch in the far corner containing two appliances, a fridge and an electric stove, which then were accompanied by two cheaply made counters. The patched leather coat he wore before was immediately hung on the coat rack beside the door, and then my coat was thrown over top.
Without his coat, the white work shirt he wore underneath, off-white, dirtied and well worn, hugged loosely over his rounded belly. He was a chubbier man and when I saw this I imagined that the odd stench smelt from before was coming from him. As I dropped my eyes lower I noticed the still not-so-impressive bulge in his pants had never gone away. For a moment when I was taking off my jacket I knew not what to do. I expected him to offer me a drink, as that is what usually happens in movies, but instead the Rhino merely starred at me as though I was to make the first move--as though it was my cue. After an extended silence, I realized that perhaps this expectation was true,
["Okay, James now you comment on the cock and then place a hand on his bulge."]
"Oh! Now what do we have here?" I say, speaking my impromptu dialogue and then placing a hand on his bulge.
"I...Could we slow down? It is my first time, after all." The rhino instinctively pushed my hand away in a swat, shaking nervously, "You know what? I don't think I'm even ready for this."
["James say, 'Oh Baby, I can tell that you are plenty ready' and then drop--something--and then rub your ass against his bulge."]
"Oh baby, I can tell that you are plenty ready!" Acting fast I dropped on the ground the only thing I could find within my jeans: a crumpled receipt. "Oops!" I giggled girlishly before bending over to pick it up, making sure to rub my rump over his bulge, small tuff of tail in the air.
"Can we talk about--" Rick spoke before pausing halfway,
["No, No, No Rick! You say, "You think you can handle this, you little bitch?"]
Rick sighed and then feigned complacently, "You think you can handle this You LITTLE BITCH?"
["Now throw him over your shoulder"]
Rick picked me up, slung me over his shoulder...
["And slam him on the bed!"]
...And threw me onto the futon face down. As the cheap springs beneath cried their metallic protests, I bounced about them rolling my thin body over. Rick's enormous form: his hulking, muscular body left little to the imagination as his tight fitting pure-white work shirt hugged his muscular frame. Without undoing the buttons he busted open his shirt and his body was undoubtedly godly. I could only stare at the grey naked chest before me, his shirt thrown to the side, as my own inner hunger cried for me to taste upon my tongue the muscular flesh before me.
Like a jack coming out of the box, I threw myself forward placing a wet tongue onto his nipples. I savagely lapped at the grey spots as my tongue twisted and turned around the bead that began to form. He moaned as I did this placing two strong hands on my head.
["Get that god damn hand in his pants! Fuck, we don't have all day here."]
I shot my hand into his pants and began to feel the rhino's growing member. Thick already and yet becoming increasingly hard within my paw I found that it soon became difficult to contain his log-like appendage within my single grasp. With a hint of anxiety my heart began to flutter, "Was I really suppose to be able to take this guy in my ass? Let alone my mouth."
["Rick, get him off your nipple and push him on the bed. Let's get him naked."]
Rick pushed me away from his nipple and with two strong palms forced me on the bed. The feathery mattress cushioned my fall backwards and I sunk into its heavenly surrounding. As I grasped the sheets in orgiastic anticipation of the Rhino who now aggressively played with my belt, the silky, welcoming sheets of the finely made bed beneath me tickled my body with a smooth softness that forced a light moan from my lips.
As soon as my belt was off, Rick slid my jeans from my leg in four strong jolts as he navigated them around and off of my skinny legs. Eyeing my tangerine briefs underneath, Rick could but only smile.
"Cute." He laughs to himself--
["Why is he wearing briefs?"
"I thought they would add character, sir!"
"No briefs! Get that shirt off too!"]
Lying fully naked on the large double bed, my back ensnared by the welcoming comfort of the silk sheets beneath me, my erection had become full. Rick was quick to grab my arousal within his hand as he pumped my erection firmly, bringing his mouth to mine and savagely invading me with his tongue.
A moan resonated from deep inside of me, the lustful pleasure of tasting the Rhino's strong masculine tongue against my own tongue sent unheard messages to my brain. From the twists of that pink muscle I could tell he was going to fuck me tonight. And he was going to fuck me hard.
["Rick. Pants, off!"]
Without hesitation Rick freed himself from his own constraining pants. His erection bursting out from its captivity as though it was a prisoner of war freed by his own good fortune. The fully aroused and strong spear pointing directly at me, my anxiousness was met by its sheer intimidating prowess and I immediately began to worry that perhaps this was a size I may not be able to take.
With his strong arms he raised my hips so that I was placed into a ball formation and my two eyes met with the ones eye of my own hardness. With exposed tail hole to the air Rick--
["No. "]
-- Dirk Hardstone dived his tongue within my tail hole. His rimming not so much focused on circulating my puckered flesh but immediately penetrating me instead and immediately moistening my insides. My head flopped side to side as I gave exaggerated moans of ecstasy. The pleasure I had found, heightened by my own vocal hyperbole.
A penetrating and wide rhino finger began to invade my opening--
["Lube!"
["Yes sir, right away sir. There you go, sir. Thank you sir. Goodbye sir!"]
And it dove into me rather slickly. His lubricating saliva adding ease as a second finger joined the first in its crusade to open me. The fingers that invaded my hole did so furiously, manically, and with pure desire, as the Rhino rushed to prepare me to become impaled upon his semi-flaccid erection--
["Fluffer!"
"Yes sweetie? Oh I'm on it!"]
-- His hard erection, the head of which was pressed against my hole, became a downward missile as he forced it into a vertical downward position by grip of his hand. With legs wide apart and bulging in their muscular form he began to plunge inside of me as I stayed with this curled balled formation. His rhythm did not take long to increase to its maximum power and soon all of his available energy was spent within his impaling thrusts. The odd position strained my back but not to the point that I would wish for it to stop. I had always been a flexible sort; this was merely evidence to support the notion that one day my experiences with Yoga would indeed eventually pay off. Caught in this position I was forced still to glance at my own cockhead. I was forced to watch as my swollen head became wetter, as streams of slick leaked from its hole, as my strained erection became to drip pre-cum.
Grasping my own cock in hand I began to pump myself as I extended my tongue in hopes that I would be able to taste my own liquid treat. As the Rhino plunged his larger spear inside of me, breaking the limit of my own tail hole, I then strained myself further in extend hopes that perhaps I would even be able to taste my own genital.
Sadly I could not quite make it and as I became caught in the ecstasy of the strong thrusts that currently bombarded my inner self I could not help to feel a loss of my own concentration, my abs relaxing as my head fell back into the bed's welcoming sheets. From the Rhino's own body a strange musk began to fill the air and as I smell it, I knew it to be a most certain aphrodisiac scent, the purely animalistic scent of sex, it was ambrosia for the gods. As I breathed this tainted air I became haunted with a twisted scent of need, suddenly more than anything in the world I wanted his seed inside of me.
["Switch Position!"]
After a few more plunges I was flipped around until I was on all fours and he was entering me from behind. He moulded my body with artisan fingers as though he was a sculptor and I was a lump of clay. My body completely obedient to the positions he desired me to be in. I relished on the sentiment of surrendering myself to his ever accelerating and aggressive thrusts.
As he impaled me from behind, caught up in the passion of the strong Rhino's own thrusts I briefly lost my thought. With my own eyes staring blankly before me I was forced to consider the fourth wall of the bedroom. Where the first, second and third wall of the luxurious bedroom bordered around me, the fourth wall was completely disappeared. In its place there was now only a blank void, a dark abyss. I felt a wall there but before me I saw a blank and infinite expanse.
"James, get back into it!" A voice shouted from beyond the void.
"Right, sorry." I apologized and I continued to feign sounds of orgasm once again, "Oh baby. Fuck me like that. I'm your little bitch." I improvised.
But as the Rhino pumped me from behind, pushing my back down and raising my rump upwards, I could not help but to look at the peculiar fourth wall once again. For now, from within this abyss a mechanical clicking sound began to cycle and soon joining it, a shimmering glass peered out from the shadow like the glossy eyes of some mythological being.
"You like it when I fuck your tight ass?" The rhino, Dirk Hardstone, grunted from behind me, diving into my back with a strong penetrating fury. I panted, and I sweated, but the lure of the fourth wall continued to call me away. And now where part of me acted along, acted in orgiastic delight, another part of me could only continue to stare at the abyss as forms of shadowed people began to appear within it.
"Get back in the game, James! What are you doing? Stop looking at the fucking camera."
Wait, camera?
There was a shiver up his spine and then the deer froze, as though he was suddenly caught in a petrifying gaze. Noticing this, Dirk suddenly stopped his thrusting, "Uhh...Boss?"
"Oh shit! I'm sorry. I guess I was day dreaming..." The deer said coming to life once again.
"Cut!" The director stood up from his studio chair in dramatic frustration as the camera men in front of the fornicating couple dropped the cameras off of their shoulders. As the studio-hands pulled away boom-mikes and the make-up crews readied themselves, the Beaver waddled his way up to the edge of the prop bedroom. The small beaver threw his hands in the air dramatically before setting them upon his face, "You were day dreaming--Day dreaming during a fucking scene? How do you day dream during a fucking scene? Jesus Christ...Amateurs!"
"I'm sorry. We can start the scene again. I'm just a bit nervous that's all." The deer rolled himself over, avoiding the annoyed look of his co-actor Dirk who was now continually stroking his erection but only to maintain his hardness.
"Yea can we go soon? I'm about to cum here." Dirk sighed, holding his large erection within his hand, "...And the wife wants me home at around 11."
The beaver raised his palm off of his head and glared at Dirk with two extremely annoyed black beady eyes,
"I thought your wife divorced you for that steel mill worker...."
"Yea, but we still like to go for dinner and stuff..." Rick shrugged with a stupid expression on his face.
"Hey, Boss? Just got a call from head, they say Studio needs you to clear out. They want to start filming the next instalment of Cyber Necromancy." A black cat walked onto the studio stage, half-talking into his Bluetooth earpiece.
Like an owl, or perhaps more like a demon, the Beaver seemingly spun his head around. With fiery eyes he glared at the black cat that nervously gulped.
"I can't work like this! You know what. Fine let's call it a night." The Beaver sighed, grasping the aspirin and water that was stealthily brought to him by one of the studio's interns, who to the beaver remained completely anonymous.
"What am I going to do with this thing?" Dirk sighed, his naked erection still in his hand.
"I can help you sweetie." A made-up poodle female, one of the "fluffers", waved flirtatiously towards the large rhino and he smiled and waved back, "See you in my change room, doll."
**
What a terrible day it had been for the Deer. He really had blown it this time. This movie was his one big chance and he had blown it. If he got fired from the studio then he truly had no other option, he was just going to have to face his embarrassment and go back home to his mother.
As he walked down the street outside of the Montreal born rental studio, having no car to drive him home, he spent his traveling time with his head turned towards the snow that descended down. It was the kind of snow he enjoyed. It was the big and flakey kind of snow. The kind of snow in which its pattern becomes evident even to the naked eye as the many flakes joined to become one construct. Watching the snowfall somehow eased his mind. As they fell, he listened and as he listened he could hear them coo soft motherly things into his mind's ear like, "It's Okay, you'll do better next time."
He whistled a tune while he walked now. Sure it was a bad day. Sure, he might have botched his job but, in his persevering spirit he found the will to whistle jovially despite all his life's hardships.
Then an odd scene caught his eye.
Under a street-light in the far distance he saw another deer, one much like himself. The attire he wore, his red coat, white shirt, and blue jeans looked all too familiar and in seeing this other deer standing lonesome he felt as though it had been someone he had seen before. The familiar figure, like recognizing something once seen in a dream, suddenly flushed the deer with a peculiar sense of mysticism. First, it made him feel distrustful of his own reality, but then that uneasiness graduated to something else. Suddenly it became the kind of uneasiness one feels when walking into a party uninvited, the kind of uneasiness one feels when getting off at the wrong train stop, the kind uneasiness one feels when they realize that they don't belong.
As a rackety Volvo pulled up beside the other deer, I decided it was best to turn my attention away from the scene down the street. But as I walked home that night, farther away from the movie studio, the uneasiness never really left me. Suddenly I felt as though my life had become like a hall of mirrors. Except it was not quite a hall of mirrors. For in the hall of mirrors I saw myself in I imagined I was the reflection and that in each mirror I would only see straight images of myself.
...Suddenly a peculiar sensation overcame me. Suddenly I felt as though I had become the illusion.
I'm not experienced enough in actual writing theoretic to know if it is okay to call this story a "Narrative Metamorphsis." In my academic reading I have never come across the term but seeing as I'm also not a major in English that would make a lot of sense. However, in expressing my own sense of audacity, I'm going to call this story a Narrative Metamorphosis anyways. It is a metamorphosis after all: a metamorphosis of space and perhaps even genre.
Like the transformation fetish story (Read your basic Werewolf story) I wanted a story that dealt with a transformation as its primary function. Perhaps the easy way would be to simply write a story about a man turned were[animal] but immediately I was instead drawn to this idea of having an actual change take place in narrative. Where the story perhaps starts off sweet and sentimental and then later becomes a satire onto itself once the sex begins. The result I can say is quite satisfactory. Despite this being a shorter story I do rather enjoy it.
The only thing I'm still iffy about...but am going to keep regardless...is the self reflectivity of the story. Part of me (Myself) says it's cheesy and kind of ridiculous and another part of me (My Muse) enjoys the creative ambiguity of such a placement. Since my Muse is a cantankerous being and knows many ways to torture me (and consequently itself--which it has yet to realize), I usually go with whatever it suggest. Bastard.
I think part of my inspiration from this story also comes from the fact that I just started reading the graphic novel, The Unwritten. I rather enjoyed the first volume and I think you can see the slight relationship between my story and it.
As for other readings I am currently doing, this is going to be a heavy reading semester for me at school and thus you might find that I do not post often for the next little while (Or I post too often in which case I beg you to tell me to stop procrastinating). Outside of my major, I've taken a science fiction literature class which I am in love with (partly because it's full of so many "nerd" type cute guys *sigh*) despite the fact that I will now be reading a book a week. I can speed read...I've been at this university for a while...but generally with fiction I like to really absorb books. Especially is true with Science Fiction.
That being said, this course is already helping me see some of the problems I have with my ongoing Cyber Necromancy series and I think I'm ready to take a fresh stab and begin the next chapter. I have not started writing said chapter but I do have it planned out in my head. It's just a matter of coming to an agreeable consensus with my Muse who is encouraging me to write something else.
Soon I will be reading C.S. Lewis. I also will be reading some Robert Sawyer and possibly FINALLY ACTUALLY reading Joseph Cambell's A Hero with a Thousand Faces. A book I've studied many times before but never actually read. What I am saying is that I have ALOT to read (plus stuffs for my other classes) but I assure you I'll still be hovering around. I thought about reviewing some of the stuff I'll read but I'd much rather focus my writing time on more stuff for you guys. I got to keep on reading, I got to keep on writing, and then maybe someday I'll show my face to the world and my arts degree won't make me feel as pessimistic as I do now. On a side and final note, as usual I encourage you all to comment with your questions, critiques or even...well...comments! The more feedback I'm given the more I can perfect my writing. I'm thinking of trying to write for some publication websites so any advice you offer will make me happy.