A Lesson In Caring: The Different Kind of Love.
First of all, while the characters here (And situation) are made up by me, the concept is used in the manner of a fanfic, and no libel or other malign is meant. Second of all, if you want to post a comment along the lines of "Eeeewwww" please make sure it's a constructive Eewww, as it's my first time trying something like this.
The alarm clock rang, bringing me slowly to my senses. I had heard a couple of my colleagues had trouble waking up, but for me, every morning felt as bright as the day I was born, or as we call it, "envisioned."
Though I live in a pretty big place, I could walk to the office. I took a usual glance at the Meter, which seemed to be reading low today. "All the more reason I'm needed," I thought as I walked through the main doors. I chatted with a couple of my friends that I found first, but some of them were off on their way Down. One said she had to help a troubled young teenager who held her classmates in contempt, and another was scheduled for a hospitalized kid with a leg injury. I hoped I wouldn't get assigned to another anorexic or some selfish solipsist who needed to learn about other people: it's just so hard to help them out, and sometimes it takes multiple sessions. Many a newbie had tried to give them one idealistic zap and come back frustrated, nearly splitting at the seams.
Thankfully, I was assigned today for a guy of about sixteen or so, who we'd heard was especially sensitive to our reaching. Normally we can't reach anyone over a certain age: we can usually get the younger generation to help alleviate the tensions from their parents and friends, but the older, insensitive age brackets seem to make up most of our low annual turnover.
Don't get me wrong, we all work for the joy of our job itself: we don't really need money, as my kind lives off... good vibes, let's call it.
Without a moment to lose, I hopped in the nearest terminal, left our suspiciously archaic conception of the afterlife, and headed Down, to find my current charge.
When I touched down, I saw the kid in the local park, looking sad and trying to read a book he'd brought with him. I could tell as soon as I laid eyes on him that he'd be a tough case. There was something different about him that I didn't get, or got in a different way, from others.
"Hello there," I said quietly, getting his attention.
He muttered something along the lines of "Who're you?" which is usually better than I normally got out of people; even the really depressed ones.
"Well," I answered, in what I hoped was a kindly way, "I'm either a manifestation of your conscience attempting to set up an internal dialogue to alleviate any excess stress, or I'm a stuffed animal from the sky sent to cheer you up. Either way, call me Wiseheart."
The kid looked back at his feet with a grumble, but didn't seem annoyed. I decided to help him calm down, though I was never very good at it. I'd seen some of the best in action: They could focus the collective goodwill of everyone from miles around, and nurture the zeal back into anyone. Get it right, and you could bring out the love in anyone or anything around you, and cure even the gloomiest case. As for me, I could just find his own hope, but it took a while of focus for me to make what use of it as I could. I brought it forth and took aim: "Five, Four, Three, Two, One..."
I felt the goodwill build up as much as it could, then sent it wobbling out at him through my Symbol. We each get one shortly after we're envisioned, which matches the name. I looked down at mine, which glowed as it revitalized him: A heart-shape with a sash-like ribbon around it, with a star behind it.
Though it didn't seem to have the effect I'd hoped, it managed to calm him down. "If there's something specifically wrong, I'm here to help," I offered, which seemed to get through to him. I sat down beside him on the bench, and he tried to explain things to me.
"Well," he began, "There's this... friend of mine, who was supposed to meet me here today, but he's told me he has a girlfriend who won't let him. I was hoping I could talk with her, but he's the only guy I c-could understand, more than anyone else."
I decided to take his hand, because most people warm up to something soft and non-judgemental. He brought me closer, as I'd known he'd probably need something to cuddle. "You mean she won't let him talk to you? Maybe she's got some problem. Why does she stop him from meeting you?"
"No, no. It's just that, there aren't many other guys I like, and I just found out that he's s-s- I-I mean," he stuttered, "I've t-talked to her, and she doesn't mind if he talks to me, on the phone, or something, but not, you know, in person."
"Look," I said, giving him a pat on the shoulder, "You could always call him and ask him what her problem is. She shouldn't come between you two like that."
"But the thing is, I know the reason why she comes between us, and I know... we... can't..." His parry of the usual rhetoric came to an eventual stop, as he started looking down at me. He'd unknowingly brought me up on his lap, which was starting to become uncomfortable, in some way. He started talking again, with "Hmm, you're a plushie, aren't you?"
I almost fell off his lap, but to my further confusion, he reached down for his pants. I put my paw out, but he just took it and helped me pull them down further. I'd heard a little something of this, of getting your aim wrong, and they'd reach for their pants. I thought I'd ask SleazyHeart about this, because he said he'd encountered it before. As I saw the male appendage rise from his pants, I asked, "Uh, do you have to... urinate or something?"
"Well, something, but not like that," the guy muttered coyly at me. I felt him push my head forward a bit and say, "Uh... Do you mind... well,"
"Uh, like a kiss or something? Okay..." I didn't know why he was so embarrassed about this, as if he knew as little about this as I did. I tried to put my lips around the front of it, and gave a quick, gentl-
He pushed the back of my head some more, pushing that thing into my mouth! Since we only need mouths to move enough air to talk, we don't have what could be called an esophagus; but there was still more than enough room for the whole... penis, it's called. He seemed to like it, and even said something like "Yes, suck on it more!" It seemed to swell and throb as I sucked on it, but couldn't tell if it was supposed to do that.
He seemed to like that, so I did it some more, making sure it was all the way in my mouth. The guy put a hand on the back of my head, helping me go in a back-and-forth motion, asking me to suck harder. I wondered when I should stop, but before I could, I started to feel something warm and sticky in my mouth. I coughed on the sudden emission of the slimy goop, let go, and said "I thought you said you didn't have to urinate or anything!"
He just gave me another shy smile and said, "I'm sorry about that, but thank you anyway. I feel a lot better now, but, well, I don't think I'll need that again for a while."
"It's a good thing too..." I muttered, wiping globs of his white gooey stuff out of my mouth as I took my leave.
Back in the main office, after a run through the wash, I was just asking SleazyHeart why some of those males pee white, and why they seem proud of it, when I caught notice of a few senior associates running in our direction, waving papers and folders while looking bewildered. "Finally," I muttered to myself, "Maybe now I'll get some sort of explanation."
WiseHeart got some new, unexpected wisdom at high velocity, and required partial re-training and biology lessons to ensure that their charges would find love amongst only each other, and all records of that incedent were classified.
SleazyHeart was put on temporary probation, and was put on a squad. After all six of them were found in a university dormitory, he was transferred to a desk job.
The young man who recieved WiseHeart's "Attentions" had thankfully learned to accept his losses, and made some new friends, both platonic and non-. He still kept in touch with his old friend, who turned out to be straight. And far above, in a city whose residents themselves were unsure of their existance, the Bears looked on.