Language Lessons and a Morbid Shade Of Purple

The ceiling of the city was now haunted by high-flying Lawmen with telescopic helmets, and they peered through the dark onto blue-lit streets in search of someone who might fit the profiles of the Bitter Nines. A great deal of chatter had struck the Lawman Network ever since Refinery Six was not only raided but virtually demolished; the two known culprits (of the three) responsible had been identified as that terrorist cell of anti-Human fanatics, but had faced only mild Lawmen reprisal before they vanished into the bowels of the Plate, and the superiors above, now poorer with one of their shipments stolen, had mobilized the entire **** and doubled them with the Ninth’s own forces.

But none patrolled as vigilantly as the Lawman who had more or less been responsible for that “mild reprisal”; he had been too eager and took the bait of the one who dared to call herself “Miles the Human.” He had left no trace of her or the fellow who helped her; frozen blood and melting ice were all his rage had left of her. Before he had gotten there, he had thrown every Lawman in the area towards her, even calling away the patrols near the Refinery… never imagining that primitive criminals could manage such a feat.

What would the Bitter Nines do now with such treasure, never meant to be left on the Plate? Daedro the Faultless cursed the arrogance of his given name; he was a mockery now, and only the final **** of this latest, bubbling rebellion would appease his scornful superiors.

Daedro floated a dozen feet below the craggy ceiling... and so he missed the tiny window that had opened upon it. Through this tunnel, John appreciated the cross-thatch pattern of blue streaks that the flame-lit roads made below; with keen eyes, he spotted the farthest building towards the east and opened a portal there. His vision had ping-ponged across the city for a minute now; the Plate was huge, way bigger than Springfield and far more populated. Golgon claimed some estimated the Plate to carry 90,000,000 souls on its back, while the Ninth Disk held a “paltry” 50,000,000. There were less than a billion souls left in Vantage, but the numbers remained staggering to a teenager from small town Springfield.

The pale, vague radiation of sunlight reaching through the cavern grew brighter with every jump, and the azure map below slowly faded into its true, urban miasma of immovables and cubes. The people wore more clothes in these parts; an occasional decoration could be seen in the homes below, and even the roofs sometimes held meetings or parties of conversing locals. The Lawmen patrolled here as well but not nearly as thorough as those looking for Golgon and his lot.

“We’re nearly there, John the Newman,” Golgon whispered as he peered over the boy’s shoulder. The two had not truly left the Bitter Nines’ headquarters; leaping into view on the way would’ve been too risky, after all. Tricia continued to work on the Lawman armor along with Rosa, but her eyes continued to bounce between John and the impressive array of women he had gathered… not that she was jealous, she reminded herself.

Farthest from her mind on that list was the woman who, along with the other Gorbachev, seemed to hold nothing but resentment for the Gamer: Deanna, who insisted on a continuous soak, constantly surveyed the busy work around her… and how no one seemed interested in speaking to her. The Order personnel kept their cliques and didn’t include her; Collide had no business with her; Penelope, the fellow outcast, just kept to herself while carving something on one of the tables.

[MM = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEsj16GHWKo]

Deanna’s eyes only caught Miles the Human just as she walked up to that water pot with a wolfish smile. “Ta. Chuki?” the Dorani greeted in the unknown tongue.

Deanna didn’t like the hungry look in the woman’s eye, but Deanna also didn’t like how everyone avoided her. She let her head rise from the security of her new “bed” to shake it, muttering, “I’m sorry, I still don’t know your language-”

Miles looked to and fro, checking on busy eyes nearby... before reaching into her trousers and pulling out something that didn’t quite register in Deanna’s brain at first. The meat scepter slapped gently on the lip of Deanna’s container. It’s turgid head was less than two inches from Deanna’s wide-eyed face... and with a sniff, she swore she could smell something alluring in what she slowly realized was a… a...

... or at least Deanna nearly realized it, except a large, red fist swooped in to completely close around the offered meal. Miles grew stiff in the sure, merciless clutch of Hurk. The knuckles turned pink from the grip; Deanna looked up, expecting some menacing visage… only to see Hurk’s gentlest smile down to her. Deanna remained in a state of shock; wasn’t he facing away and stacking boxes a moment ago, across the room? But she remained disarmed, first by his smile and then by his other massive thumb and forefinger forming an “O” in one of the few human gestures Hurk had learned. With his colossal grin, he declared, “A-OK!”

He walked towards the bedrooms, and Miles, on her tippy-toes, half-lunged, half-flung along wherever her cock was being taken. “Kukat viz otuu,” she shakily declared.

“Tot alu ket,” tersely replied Hurk.

Deanna, confused and terrified, dipped her head completely into the case and wished the water did a better job of cooling her body.

The entire affair had been missed by John who, with ever more eager portals, was approaching what seemed to be the threshold of the Disk above.

“Now take care not to take us outside of the barrier! The thinner Violet fumes float far above the Plate and could still be strong enough to... ah,” Golgon sighed as a sudden radiance shot from that corner of the cavern, “it’s been... too long.”

They had finally past gotten past the shadow of the Ninth Disk... and now, with a tunnel snuck to the top of a watchman’s house, could look upon the vast fields of some other crop permitted to live in the true sun’s light.

“I suppose we may as well help ourselves to some of the government’s zokosh as well, heehee,” Golgon giggled.

But John wasn’t staring at the swaying crops that seemed like giant corn cobs with bulbous, mutated kernels. He was staring at the sun that hung overhead as bright and familiar as that of Earth... and at the unfamiliar, roaming clouds, each a sickly violet, that grew in number until John’s eyes hit the true floor of the world: an infinite, gapless blanket of some morbid purple. The blanket nearly rose to the Plate’s level; the haze above it suggested the vapors Golgon warned of.

Then it was true. Aside from Vantage… somehow, by humans or these “Steel One” invaders… the world here was dead. There are so many millions here, who managed to escape… so how many... how many didn’t…?

“The edge of the Plate is a perilous, one way passage out... and the space beyond the threshold of the Disk, where one enters the air belonging to the Ninth,” Golgon explained with a gesture to the heavens above, “is blocked by the invisible will of the Peak.”

“Let’s see.” John opened separate tunnels over his left eye as he ascended towards those forbidden heavens-

You tried to cast Tunnel, but the destination is forbidden by the King. Spell failed.

Sovereignty: You tried to claim Sovereignty over Vantage with the Eye of the King, but the Sovereignty of Vantage cannot be claimed without first taking the Throne of Vantage.

Shit... John’s vision had gone high up enough to nearly pass the level of the ceiling—just as Golgon had foretold—before he could go no further. He opened a wider portal near that bit of sky, facing the pale purple heavens above, and reached his hand through... only to feel it press against a perfectly flat, invisible barrier. The Eye of the King provided no greater result: it gave the same kind of message he received that one time he tried to neutralize one of Juniluny's spells, though he never did find out why that one had been so special... Another question for another time.

<Baal's balls, I'm right here, you misanthropic moronic malcontent!>

Alright then: why couldn't I stop your shield spell?

<That's... well, I'm...> Juniluny's hesitation fell into some grumbled response. John shook his head with a thin smile; she knew even less about his powers than he did, after all.

John gave the barrier a punch without result or even a message to show for it. After a brief test with Galley, whose fist was stopped just as sure as his, John accepted that he was trapped, for now.

All he could manage was to look beyond it to the first spires of the Ninth Disk: rather than the blackened immovables he now saw, there waited elaborate, twisting buildings of emerald green, each with carved, curving lines that danced around one another in walkways and thoroughfares built several stories above the ground. John couldn’t make out the people there, but he could see yet further beyond those glittering spires to the next Disk, very nearly as wide as the one below and too high for John to even see such glittering tops as that layer might have made. The lips of Disks continued like this… until near the very top, almost swallowed by the distances and dimensions of John’s view… he saw a tiny, golden tip peeking out over the horizon of the topmost Disk.

John returned to peer through the portal on the Plate... and contemplated again the seemingly squallor of those millions living upon it. “I’m sorry, Golgon-”

“Humans were never miracle workers,” Golgon interrupted with a happy chuckle, “and so I still get to thank you, John the Newman... for proving that wisdom true.” The elder had a convincing enough smile... and John responded by shutting every tunnel save one giant one, held vertical in the center of the hideout, that connected to a horizontal one over the “zokosh” crops.

“Hurk-!” John began to call... and paused as he saw the giant lifting Miles onto one of the “bedrooms” with hands firmly clutched on her shoulder and cock.

“Just a moment: poor Miles must be put to bed as she is most terribly tired,” the giant declared.

“Don’t tease me, you big red monster-”

“You’ve had quite enough fun today at the expense of the ****,” Hurk curtly replied before launching her into the hole, “now sleep it off.”

With a snap of the curtains, Miles was apparently, officially, put in timeout. John only stared, baffled that the weird Dorani could be so pacified.

“Hah,” Hurk replied to the unanswered question, “Miles knows when we’ve the best in mind for her, don’t you worry, John the Newman!” As the red giant remained turned, a pale hand slithered from between the curtains and gestured towards Sandra Dollar, the youngest of the Knights who sat to rest after moving provisions.

The young lass had been intrigued by the sight of Miles since they had arrived, but she was devastatingly shy. The brunette looked behind her and then pointed to herself, as if to ask, “Me?”

Miles continued her gestures.

“And say no more, my most impressive farmer, for I see our future dinners, ripe for the picking! Leave it to me!” John watched as Hurk did indeed begin his work... while Sandra swallowed hard before slipping into the curtains of Miles’ bedroom.

John gave serious thought to interfering when Golgon spoke up. “But even if you cannot penetrate the Peak’s security... you can solve the greatest issue with our original plan. Come again to the model board: I think you’ve more than proven trustworthy—and vital—to be shown our latest plan.”

John did so, though not before pushing his thoughts towards his summon. Rosa, can you make sure Miles doesn’t... y’know?

<I’m studying these new runes with your girlfriend,> she tersely responded, not bothering to look up from where, indeed, she squatted next to Tricia over the dissected armor, <and you want me interfering in what lesbians go off to do?>

That’s... wait, that Knight is a lesbian? How did you even know? John thought back to the info card he’d read on Sandra. Her intel doesn’t include that-!

<That “Game” of yours can’t teach you everything. Do you really want me to interfere?>

But love doesn’t move at the speed of sound debate.

“Alright, wow, haha, w-well,” Sandra stammered as Miles peeled away her single article of clothing in the dark of the room, “so that’s that, huh?”

Sandra crawled away from the wisps of prismatic hair that touched the low ceiling of this miniature chamber; her bare ass and hands found the floor very soft, even velvety, but her back quickly found the small cave’s own rounded end. Miles lunged upon her and joined their lips with eager licks and taps before whispering, “Suul, shita daas?”

“T-That’s... oh, it’s quite... um... that is...” Sandra’s entire world had been shattered in mere hours... and a beautiful woman, much less one with accessories, had appeared like a simple anchor to an existence that spiraled into madness, but they couldn’t even speak the same language much less make a meaningful-

“Due kes.” Miles slipped her hand between her own legs... and sounds of moist moans and moist flesh briefly forecasted the glistening wetness now on her fingers. The sight of them was all the warning Sandra was afforded before Miles fingered Sandra’s **** cunt with Dorani juices. Sandra yelped in surprise but once again found herself trapped between a rock and a hard woman; Miles, satisfied that she had lubricated the young thing well enough, grabbed precious, pale hips and dragged her towards a twitching cock.

“W-Wait, I-I’m still a-”

Miles’ cock was already dripping precum from all the foreplay the day had wrought, and she was nearly ready to come just from feeling the fresh labia buckle and engorge around her favored sex organ. Miles, and more specifically the species she had nailed so far, had no such oddities as hymens; she expected this teen to be as spacious and accommodating as any other, albeit oddly tight. So it was to her surprise that she briefly felt something in her way, already torn by the time she realized it, and then another barrier as she bottomed out inside the teen who now cupped her hands over her screaming mouth.

“Shit, are you okay?” Miles asked.

Sandra shook her head... and paused as she asked in pained gasps, “You can speak English-?”

“Fucking- you can speak Vantagi? Why didn’t you... what...?”

“What... oh fuck, you’re... are you inside me? How... Um, how real is that, um... your thing?”

Miles blinked down at the girl already halfway to hilted until her smile slowly grew. “Interesting... so this is why I couldn’t understand people down here until I... well, shit. Maybe I’m really a...?”

Sandra laid paralyzed as she tried to make sense of everything, up to and including her surrendered virginity. Wasn’t that the precious gift, meant for her husband one day? How long she had denied her nature until now, even though the Lady never forbade it. Sandra had been so terrified of this moment, and now came the object of her lust—a woman—who was also- “Ah!”

Miles bucked once to test the wetness of her lover. “Are you frigid?”

“N-No! I’m just... confused!”

“You’re… not into me?”

“I-I-I can’t even… think right-”

Miles grabbed Sandra’s hand and pulled it towards her chest. The novice Knight’s words trailed away as she felt the soft, welcoming flesh of another woman; Miles moaned softly as Sandra practiced her grip on the tender flesh, earning a string of incoherent apologies. “Are you into me now?”

Sandra felt ready to faint… but she adjusted her waist and found herself moaning at the feeling of the appendage buried inside her. Her other hand came up to fondle Miles more, and Miles obliged by leaning forward to bury the brunette in her cleavage.

“That’s a yes, yeah?”

“Y…” Sandra pressed Miles’ tits to her face as if to hide in them… and soon she was suckling on the offered nipple to comfort herself. Quietly, between moans, she regressed into something more primitive… and Miles happily joined her as she began to pick up her thrusts. The tiny room was not ventilated; soon the heat they produced was enough to set both sweating-

The curtain flashed open, and the tickle of light made Miles think the jig was up… only the curtains closed again most of the way, save for the parting created by Rosa sticking her head in between them. “Ah… bueno, si ya llego tarde…” Rosa paused as if to consider something; Miles took the chance and continued to pump into her freshly deflowered lover, eager to come at least once before she was interrupted. “Alright,” Rosa finally declared before sliding into the bedroom, “I’ve come to make sure the Order puta is enjoying herself, at least.”

“Huh… heh, ask her yourself.” Miles gripped Sandra to her and began to roll back, awkwardly dragging the Knight’s legs about until the drooling lass was face-to-face with the rogue mage.

“Oh- Lady help me-!” was all Sandra could manage as she covered her face.

Rosa peeled the hands away and softly kissed the recently un-maidened. Miles read the mood well enough; she slowed her thrusts into soft, easing penetration. This only drove Sandra crazier as she fought against the urge to pick up the pace while also enjoying Rosa’s mouth.

The rogue mage parted their mouths, letting Sandra lunge to re-unite them just long enough to fall out of reach with a grin. “You’ve been staring at me like a platter since I got here, mija. I’m surprised the Order kept you.”

The Order. Her training as a Knight. The brief horror of the raid on the Brighton Manor. Sandra had few traumas to claim… but the betrayal of her lineage, the loss of life back there, was enough to nearly knock her out of the haze of fornication-

Rosa gave her another kiss while she began to pull up the long skirt she wore. Her panties were already gone, given to a Hospitaler who had the misfortune of having her period during this calamity; now her hairy muff was exposed to the sultry air and added its own spice to the mix of bodily smells bombarding the teenager. “Sorry, mija, let’s get you thinking about something else.”

“W… What do you… mean?”

“I mean I want you to drown in my chocha until I forgive you for helping the Order.”

“… W-What’s a cho-?”

Rosa raised her hips as she grabbed Sandra’s head with both hands and buried the poor Knight’s face in her hairy crotch. Miles raised her hips to tip Sandra forward and ever further into Rosa’s crotch; Miles, entertained by the turn of events, resorted to biting the pretty pink nipples of the B-cup breasts bouncing before her. Rosa groaned in a guilty delight as she felt the novice awkwardly tongue her labia… but it wasn’t quite enough.

A few instructions and flips later, Miles had her back to the curtain, Sandra was being pumped into while she laid on her back, and Sandra’s face was totally obscured as Rosa queened her, spreading her thighs just wide enough to completely smother the Knight with her cunt. Feeling Sandra’s tongue and nose desperately try to maneuver about her sex, to sneak in breaths here and there, and all the while moaning from Miles’ steadily increasing fuck, was exactly what Rosa needed to justify taking her top off and rubbing her sweaty body down.

“Excuse me, but I’m look- whoa…!” came the almost breathless exclamation of Patrick Oshkov, a plain-looking Hospitaler in his mid-thirties. Plain-looking as he was, his own gift—a fat, eight-inch cock—made its presence known against the simple linen that served as his only shred of decency. He looked behind himself to see if anyone else had briefly seen the threesome he was interrupting-

“You, in me, now,” Miles panted, “bring that tool over and show me some love!”

Patrick hadn’t gotten quite the eyeful of Miles’ antics earlier; as far as he figured, she was just a woman, and so he happily obliged, missing that the unspoken strap-on she was ravaging Sandra with had no straps to speak of. Too eager after so many years of lovers coming and going, the loneliness, the loss of the Blessing, and the sudden doubt about all the acts he had committed in the Lady’s name made Patrick so eager a lover that he clumsily rubbed his head up and down Miles’ slit until, with her dominating grip, she slid him into her pussy proper… and from there, nature took its course. The sensation of being filled while also having her cock gripped by Sandra’s spasming cunt wore away the last barrier to pleasure she had; moaning and biting her lip, Miles gasped and quivered as an orgasm took her body.

Sandra felt a sudden liquid warmth inside her… and consequences—which she couldn’t have known wouldn’t happen on the Plate—immediately came to mind. She began to panic and wanted desperately to beg Miles to pull out, to stop pumping alien seed into her defenseless womb… but her cries for help were lost in the sopping caverns of Rosa who, on seeing Miles come, began to suffocate the Knight with her own orgasm. Patrick continued to happily pump, encouraged by the quivering, pale beauty in his grip. He would give it everything he had, to see her so pleasured that she might invite him back after this happy accident; to that end, he hilted her, again and again, enough to roll her eyes back as she nearly lost her grip on the stone ceiling of her bedroom. Rosa took the opportunity and leaned forward to make-out with the tongue-lolling Dorani, passing her hands through ephemeral hair and continuing to drown Sandra until, with sputtering gasps, the Knight managed to dig her way into a passage for air.

Sandra thought it too late to beg for Miles to pull out… but Miles never did pull out after coming or get softer. With Patrick’s thrusts and the slick stimulation in Sandra, Miles was prepared for a chain of her orgasms… and so the second wave of baby batter began to pump into Sandra, causing her to mewl in panic just as Rosa reaffirmed her throne. Patrick’s own thrusting reached a crescendo as he drew near his climax. He began to slowly pull out, realizing he hadn’t received permission to stay in… at least, until Miles grabbed his hips and shoved him back in to the hilt. Patrick hugged Miles, mauling her tits as he began to pump her full of seed… and Miles’ third orgasm came upon the second, swelling her cock as even more of her baby batter began to pack Sandra’s womb tight. The sheets were becoming a pool of their mixed juices, and the scent of sex was now wafting far enough to earn curious glances…

Sandra’s struggle to dismount, now if only to relieve the pressure of sperm flooding her vagina, was a crapshoot; Miles let go of Patrick’s thrusting waist only long enough to grip the Knight’s hips, push herself in until her cock was kissing the cum-bathed cervix… and began to tremble as a fourth orgasm surged from the base of her spine all the way to the head of her surging dick. Miles hadn’t found this many willing lovers in some time… and as far as she figured, they would all have the same stamina she enjoyed. Miles gave Rosa’s nipples a rough twist, causing the Spanish mage to part just long enough for Miles to whisper…