Marie Among the Moles

Wrote more porn, this time involving characters from my story about the whole mole massacre, you know, that. I still need to post it. Goddamn, writing porn is almost as satisfying as getting off to it. I was thinking for a while that Marie's uncle could be just some random friend of the family who took she and her sister in and who also had a romantic and sexual relationship with Marie, but doing Marie and Barry made more sense and required less of an explanation. I'm alright with writing straight sex so long as the guy's submissive, the girl's dominant and the guy gets fucked up the ass or something. Or, you know, tied up and/or beaten. It focuses on the guy though, likely due to my love of slash and interest in gay porn. Anyway, here's the story. I mean, the original story, not the porn. Yes.

It was late at night, when such ideas tend to bubble to the surface, no longer weighted down by reason or embarrassment, that Marie presented her idea to the panel.

"What if," she began, "rather than live in fear, we strike out against them?" She stared out at the panel members, whose faces registered a wide variety of emotions, from skepticism to horror to amusement. Her friend Barry had nearly fallen under his desk, dragged down by uncontrollable laughter, when she stamped her foot down and shrieked. "Louses! Mangy..thieving..BABIES!"

At this last and most taboo insult the room fell silent. Seeing she at last had the panel's attention as well as their consideration as an intelligent living thing rather than a public spectacle, there for their entertainment, she added, almost too quietly to be heard, "win or lose, anything would be better than this life." She turned and stomped her way out of the great hall, followed by a chorus of urgent whispers and the sound of heavy leather books being opened.

"Poring over the myths for guidance, no doubt," Marie said to herself, spitting bitterly onto a nearby column. She was about to go on but someone grabbed her arm from behind. She wheeled around to face him.

"Are you insane?" Barry asked. "This 'great plan' of yours will get us all killed!"

"Who cares?" she asked. "It's better to be dead than constantly afraid. They're still out there, Barry. Who knows when they'll strike again!"

"I don't care. It's far too dangerous..and they haven't been seen since then. Maybe they've migrated, or even died off."

"That's not enough. We can't afford not to care about them--not after last time. Don't you care about ANYTHING? That's what the panel does to you, I guess." The last sentence was said mostly to herself, but she made certain he understood that her glare following it was meant only for him. Disgusted, she wrenched out of his grasp and stomped home t$hrough the piles of dust and rivers of paint flakes.