Erotic Fiction
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
22
Views:
2,616
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
22
Views:
2,616
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter Six - Back it up a bit
I would like to, before I get back to the story of the night club and what happened there, and what happened afterwards, to tell you about what happened within the few months between his first evening here, and the tattoo. Apollo stayed in my apartment, occasionally sneaking out (After regaining his strength) and nearly getting caught. I taught him to disguise himself to look less like who they were after. I also somehow, unexplainably, became like a mentor to him. He taught me to play the synthesizer better than I knew, but his teaching me ended there. I became his object of affection, as I tended to him with quiet grace in every possible way, and yes, I ended up questioning, and re-examining, my sexuality. I am not confused to what I am, and from what you’ve read, I’m sure you are no longer confused by it, either.
He made the connection that I wasn’t human. He figured it out by how confused I was about certain things he considered simple, and when he finally centered in on it, I had to prove to him that I wasn’t. As a starchild, I am endowed with the gift of changing the shape of my body, to a certain extent. I dropped my pants, showing him as I normally am. Without gender, without genitalia. He gaped, and freaked out, as if he didn’t already know. He asked inane questions of me, like if I was going to eat him, or lay eggs in him. If One day, he’ll wake up and have a face hugger over his head. I obliged him in the nicest way, of course, now he affectionately calls me things like “Space chimp” and “Mork”. I don’t know what a Mork is, but I’m fairly certain he’s confused with it all. He’s asked me questions of what Starchildren can do, if they can tell from humans and Starchildren. I told him what I could of it all, at least what I could remember. That I can read minds, that I can read emotions, that I can pry into the brains of others and twist their minds to my needs, my desires. That I can heal myself quickly, and without scarring. And he asked why I dyed my hair if I could just as easily change my haircolor by thinking about it. I shrugged and said I just wanted to fit in, and that every time I tried to change my haircolor, it didn’t look natural.
He, once asked why I chose the name I did.
“Alexia Winters? I just like the sound of it.”
“It’s a girly name, you know.”
“Girly? How so?”
“Only girl names end in A, queerbag.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that. I like it, though. It just sounds like a debutante’s name.”
“You’re such a fag, Al.”
Well, other than his unending questions, and his unquenchable desire to make me happy, not much has really happened. I’ve become used to having him in my previously empty home, having him sleep in my previously empty bed. I may even admit that he’s become a comfort to me, although a burden of one. He still has not made good on his end of the deal, but mostly because he’s been laying low. The media thinks that he is connected to the downtown rapist in more than one way. And it isn’t the way he is connected to the monster. I’m only a bit angry at that, having him stealing my limelight, albeit unintentionally. That is fine, though, eventually there will be some changes in the media’s mindframe. His end of the bargain will be upheld, one way or another.
He made the connection that I wasn’t human. He figured it out by how confused I was about certain things he considered simple, and when he finally centered in on it, I had to prove to him that I wasn’t. As a starchild, I am endowed with the gift of changing the shape of my body, to a certain extent. I dropped my pants, showing him as I normally am. Without gender, without genitalia. He gaped, and freaked out, as if he didn’t already know. He asked inane questions of me, like if I was going to eat him, or lay eggs in him. If One day, he’ll wake up and have a face hugger over his head. I obliged him in the nicest way, of course, now he affectionately calls me things like “Space chimp” and “Mork”. I don’t know what a Mork is, but I’m fairly certain he’s confused with it all. He’s asked me questions of what Starchildren can do, if they can tell from humans and Starchildren. I told him what I could of it all, at least what I could remember. That I can read minds, that I can read emotions, that I can pry into the brains of others and twist their minds to my needs, my desires. That I can heal myself quickly, and without scarring. And he asked why I dyed my hair if I could just as easily change my haircolor by thinking about it. I shrugged and said I just wanted to fit in, and that every time I tried to change my haircolor, it didn’t look natural.
He, once asked why I chose the name I did.
“Alexia Winters? I just like the sound of it.”
“It’s a girly name, you know.”
“Girly? How so?”
“Only girl names end in A, queerbag.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that. I like it, though. It just sounds like a debutante’s name.”
“You’re such a fag, Al.”
Well, other than his unending questions, and his unquenchable desire to make me happy, not much has really happened. I’ve become used to having him in my previously empty home, having him sleep in my previously empty bed. I may even admit that he’s become a comfort to me, although a burden of one. He still has not made good on his end of the deal, but mostly because he’s been laying low. The media thinks that he is connected to the downtown rapist in more than one way. And it isn’t the way he is connected to the monster. I’m only a bit angry at that, having him stealing my limelight, albeit unintentionally. That is fine, though, eventually there will be some changes in the media’s mindframe. His end of the bargain will be upheld, one way or another.