Des Schmieds Tochter/The Smith's Daughter #1

Salutations!
Wrote the first page of my novel-thingy. Names and the title are subject to change.
This is Fantasy, not Porn, just FYI.
 Apologies to the english-only audience - translation follows later.

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Es regnete.

Kein ernsthafter Regen der einen tatsächlich bis auf die Haut durchnässen konnte, schon gar kein Sturm bei dem die Tropfen eher waag- als senkrecht auf die Welt treffen. Ein ganz gewöhnlicher, sommerlicher Nieselregen ging über das kleine Dorf nieder, das sich an den Hang eines gewaltigen Berges schmiegte. Früher einmal war das Dorf eine große Siedlung mit vielen Dutzend Menschen gewesen, früher, als die Minen im „Salzberg“, an dessen Hang sie lebten, noch nicht als erschöpft galten. Jetzt, nachdem die Erträge der Minen immer weiter zurückgegangen waren und der Reichsalchemist das Vorhaben schließlich für unwirtschaftlich erklärt hatte, lebten hier nur mehr jene, die die ländliche Gemütlichkeit dem Rummel der Städte vorzogen. 30 Leute, die angesichts des Regens ihre Werkzeuge niedergelegt hatten um sich stattdessen unter Vorsprünge und Dächer zu setzen, falls sie nicht ohnehin dort arbeiteten.

Eben einer der letzteren, der Schmied des Dorfs, legte aufgrund des Regens seinen Hammer nieder, streckte seine Muskeln und rief seine Tochter – ihm stand der Sinn nach Taverne und einem kühlen Bier, aber irgendwer musste nunmal den Huf fertigschmieden, den er grade am Amboss liegen hatte. „Hilde!“ rief er, „mach' mir den Huf hier fertig!“ Ihm antwortete Stille. Er rief nochmals, lauter, doch die Antwort blieb die gleiche. Nur das leise Plätschern des Regens auf seinem Vordach und auf der alten, abgenutzten Pflasterstraße durch die Mitte des Dorfes gesellte sich zum Knacken der glühenden Kohle im Schmiedeofen. Der letzte verbliebene Schmied des Dorfes, der auf den Namen Manfred hörte, seufzte, legte den Huf zum „warmhalten“ in die Esse und ging hinaus in den Regen um seiner Tochter den Kopf geradezurücken. Während der Regen dem gut zwei Meter großen, muskulösen Mann die Glatze kühlte, legte er sich schonmal zurecht wie er sie diesmal zurechtstutzen würde. „Und jetzt aber auch wirklich“, grummelte er zu sich selbst, während er hinter die Schmiede ging und dem schmalen, mittlerweile leicht matschigen Pfad zwischen den Holzhäusern hindurch folgte.

Er kam zu dem alten Brunnen, umringt von Gebäuden, nur zugänglich durch zwei enge Pfade. Ein Relikt aus der Zeit vor dem Salzabbau, dank der raschen Expansion während der Minenarbeit einfach zwischen den Gebäuden eingeschlossen und größtenteils vergessen. Er aber wusste ganz genau wo der Brunnen war, genauso wie er wusste, dass seine Tochter hier am wahrscheinlichsten zu finden war. Und tatsächlich, wie er den kleinen, abgeschotteten Platz betrat, sah er sich gegenüber schon seine Tochter, die in regennassem Kleid mit dem Rücken zu ihm stand und kichernd mit dem Schreinersjungen Küsse austauschte. Sie bemerkte ihn nicht, wohl aber wurde er vom mit sommersprossen beladenen Peck bemerkt, der die Augen aufriss und die Flucht ergreifen wollte. Hilde lachte, sprang dem Jungen nach und riss ihn zu Boden, mit der Kraft die man sich nunmal aneignet wenn man in der Schmiede des Vaters öfter mal aushilft. Über ihm knieend grinste sie, als hätte sie einen Goldschatz erbeutet und wollte ihn weiter küssen - die großen, erschrockenen Augen ihres Altersgenossen stoppten sie aber. Irritiert zog sie die Augenbrauen hoch. „Bin ich jetzt plötzlich hässlich geworden oder was?“ fragte sie, teilweise amüsiert, teilweise besorgt. Anstatt zu antworten kroch der verschreckte Junge eilig unter ihr hervor und hastete, wie von der sprichwörtlichen Tarantel gestochen, vom Platz. Zurück blieb Hilde, die sich höchst verwirrt in den Matsch setzte, ohne sich großartig um ihr durchnässtes, weißes Kleid zu kümmern.

„Ahem.“ sagte eine wohlbekannte Stimme hinter ihr – sie drehte den Kopf, und ihre Verwirrung machte einem breiten Lächeln Platz. „Papa!“ rief sie, sprang auf und ihrem Vater um den Hals, lachend, sich mit einem Schlag voll bewusst was den Jungen zum laufen gebracht hatte. „Jetzt hör' mir mal zu, junges Fräulein!“ sagte er, sich um einen ernsten Ton bemühend, während er sie von seinem Hals nahm und ihre bloßen Füße zurück auf die nasse Erde stellte. „Ja, Ich weiß, ich werde mich noch erkälten, und der Umgang ist nicht gut für mich, und schade um das Kleid und überhaupt ist der Schreiner keine gute Partie, weiß ich doch alleeeeeees! ABER! Mama sagt immer das man die Jugend zum Erfahrungen sammeln nutzen soll, weil sie dafür da ist, sonst macht man später alles falsch. Nicht?“ Ihr treuherziges Lächeln zusammen mit dem für sie üblichen Schwall an Worten brachte seinen inneren Groll wie so oft zum schmelzen – gegen die Argumente seiner Frau konnte er ohnehin nichts sagen. „Wenn sie auch mal da wäre, deine Mutter, dann würde das alles nicht passieren!“ grummelte er stattdessen, während er seinen jugendlichen Wildfang vor sich her scheuchte, zurück zur Schmiede. „Sie kann nicht immer da sein, irgendwer muss halt auch das Geld im Haushalt verdienen!“ sagte Hilde grinsend zu der Hauswand vor ihr und fing dann an zu laufen, um der Empörung ihres Vaters zu entkommen.

Feedback is, as always, encouraged.

English translation will be up tonight, probably.

Ciao!

Generic short diary-entry

Avast ye!

So I presented my boss with the fact that I will quit my Job. I was diplomatic about it, told him I would stay until he finds a replacement. He went from 'smiling at me knowingly' over 'you are just running away from yourself' to 'well, that's just great, thanks' in about 3 minutes. In short: He didn't take me seriously for a while, and then got grumpy(which is understandable, to be fair).

Now, ever since then the pressure he put on me before – "Write me a Press release about this! And this! And this! Get more Ideas for Press releases! Check the Papers! WAAAARGH!" - is nearly gone. Suddenly, when I write a thing, he puts going over it "somewhere around 3", instead of going over it "RIGHT NAO!" and sending multiple Iterations between me and him like he used to.

Also: he treats me like I'm a lost cause. Where first was fake positivity ("This is totally wrong! Oh well, you'll learn how to do it in time!"), now there's just resignation("I can't use that. Well, noone told you how you should do it properly, I suppose.").

I do understand his mood, but I really do not appreciate being treated this way.

Different topic: I will participate in a writing contest. 15K words, deadline: 3rd of September, general direction: fantasy. Yes, some of those 15k words will find their way onto this blog before the deadline, but not all of it. Don't wanna help my competition, harhar.

Alright, that's it for today. Fairly short. I have to admit – gonna write more next time. Maybe some smut, although that's unlikely – don't feel like it at the moment. Not in the "mood", so to speak. No, no headaches.

Cheerio!

Towards the Dawn!

Tomorrow, I'm going to hand in my notice of cancellation – if that actually means "I will quit my job", which I will be doing.

Why, you might ask (or might not, depending on how much you really care about someone rambling on the Internet.)?

Here's some of my reasons, in no particular order:

• I know that, sooner or later, I will have a fight with my boss. I'm a decent judge of character, and I do happen to at least know myself rather well. I won't get along with him forever, and I'd rather leave than get fired.

• This isn't what I hoped it would be. I thought I could bring my own Ideas into this job and be all "pumped 'n shit" about it. Well, turns out, my skills in creative writing, those I got hired for, aren't needed. Everything goes by a rather strict scheme, with almost no space for your personal style.

• Cars (remember, this company is about/related to cars) really don't interest me that much. I THOUGHT I could tide myself over, ease into it with the stuff I actually care about, which are electric cars, hydrogen-fueled cars... oh, and self-driving cars. Huge Nerd-boner, right there. But, well, since we (as a company) aren't interested in "promoting" stuff for free(which is understandable in some way), we actually have to get some deals with them fancy car-companies first, for some cross-promotion. Until then, I have to write about where you should get your gasoline when driving on vacation, so you pay less for your fuel. Yes, it is as boring as it sounds.

• Everything I hand in for review to my section chief gets changed around so hard, I don't even recognise it as my own. Most of the time, I hand it in 3-4 times, with him still not being totally satisfied when we release it. Frankly, I'd rather he wrote it himself in the first place ^.-

In short: I know I will get into trouble with my Boss sooner or later, Everything I write gets changed around so much I'm actually embarrassed to put my name under it, and I can neither write in a creative manner, nor about stuff I actually give a shit about.

Some would be inclined to tolerate all of this, just so they have a job. I'm sorry I have to be the stupid white guy who isn't satisfied with his reasonable source of monetary income, but yes, I'd rather have no Job than hate my Job. Maybe(probably) someday, I will look back and regret my decision. But for now, my sense of honour tells me to let someone do this job who can do it better, while my ridiculously intense pride does not allow me to continue a job I'm starting to hate.

To everyone else who is thinking about quitting his/her job:

Think about WHY you want to quit. Think about what exactly it is you don't like. Take your time, a week more or less will (probably) not kill you. And then think about if there is anything else that you could be doing that would make you happier, and if this "anything" would require quitting your job. If not: Talk. To your superior, to your union or even your colleagues.

If it requires quitting your job: Do it. You should enjoy your life. Not in a "YOLO"-way, unless that is exactly your way, but then you wouldn't be reading this. Take a step forward, towards your future. Yes, you can't know if you will be happier there. But you can't know if you're not either.

Take a chance, enjoy what comes next – there is always a tomorrow.

A new dawn, so to speak.

Thoughts?

Be my guest, comments below.

Farewell, for now!

(Yes, I will continue this blog.)

Of Pens and Papers: Irving

Ahoy!

I decided to continue writing in English, unless I feel I HAVE to write something in German. If so, I will most likely provide translations. Reason: Catering to the audience.

Alright, Pen&Paper!

Finished the long. LONG campaign of a friend of mine. It was actually getting really confusing in places, with a lot of secrecy, betrayals and one or two seemingly random plot twists for good measure. The Ending cleared, or rather: cleaned it up pretty neatly though.

Some basic info about the campaign: Originally based on Neon Genesis Evangelion, a bunch of theoretical concepts (Multiverse, etc.) and a lot of „wishful thinking“ (quite literally – we obtained the power to manifest our wishes, in some sense.) lead to „THE QUEST TO DESTROY THE WORLD MACHINE“, which later turned into „THE QUEST TO FIX THE WORLD MACHINE, KINDA“(The WORLD MACHINE is the highest entity. Period. And it's broken, apparently..OR IS IT?) As you can maybe tell from the sheer scale of it all(and the wishing), it takes some ideas from Gurren Lagann as well. It all started Ages ago, with 3 Characters, prepared to defend Earth from the „Invaders“, while their supreme commander had his own plans.

Told you, it's based on NGE.

Time to tell you the Backstory of one of the three „teenagers“ - the one I was playing.

Irving Lanchester ]I[ (← the 3rd. Yes, he writes it that way. It's also his Symbol.)

Born in Lanchester, a (fictional) town in England. As the second of three children, with his older brother Simon and his younger sister Meriday, he was a bit of a spoiled child. Not a brat, certainly, because he had a fairly stern father, but since he was the second-in-line for the „honour of the family“, he cared much less for his title, and a lot more for having fun in life.

For instance, as part of family tradition, he had to learn an instrument. His sister chose the Violin, and his Brother the Chello, so it was expected of him to learn the piano, like is father.

Instead, he went for the Saxophone.

Now, one day, he was sitting under his favourite tree, a big, old Oak, of to the side of their residence, reading a book. His brother Simon (already known as a bit of a troublemaker) walked up the path to their house, just now coming home from taking private math-lessons, disgruntled.

To keep it short(the original bio was several pages long – don't expect me to go into detail here):

Simon walked up to the house, Meriday(sitting on the swing in front of the house) teased him a bit about his bad school grades. Simon, not seeing Irving and knowing that their parents weren't home either, decided to teach that loudmouth a lesson; he tried to rape her. Irving reacted to the commotion, saw what was happening, grabbed an Axe (think two-handed, lumberjack-axe) from the shed and killed his brother by first just hitting him with the axe and then beheading him as soon as he got him off his sister. After that, he joined the „We defend earth from giant monsters“-company at the age of 17 and has been all about protecting and helping other people ever since. Usually not by violence – he's hates violence, but doesn't hesitate to use „approriate force“ to protect others. If not forced to fight, he's a really, really social guy, and likes to be around other people all the time, joking, flirting and playing his Sax.

Over the course of his Playercharacter-life, he had 3 Girlfriends(all of them died), one threesome, got shot at multiple times, stabbed, shared his body with another soul(twice), shared his own soul with someone else, got to be the sidekick for a „superhero“ and threw people through the room per telekinesis on multiple occasions, amongst other things.

At the end of this campaign, he's 20.

I think those are the most important outlines. Should you feel the need to ask for specifics, go ahead.

That's it for now – honestly, I'd rather talk about NPCs than PCs – even if they are my own – but since the campaign just ended, I felt the need to share.

Avast, I be deparrrtin' - me be postin' later in tha week!

What would you do?

Greetings, Earth-dwellers.

Now, this post will not be funny, at least not on intention. I will attempt to convey my mind to you, and what I am thinking right now - yes, that's scary, but read along anyway, it won't hurt you.
Promise.

Today, I had the first serious talk with my superior(I'm rather new there). Since I'm in press and public relations, we/I have to look out for the public Image of the Company, amongst other things. Now, my concept of PR is really similar to the one of Riot Games: friendly, cheery, "We care about every single one of you", "let's work together to create something amazing" and so on. Pure, concentrated positivity, without any "hey, you see those guys over there? They're SHIT, because of x!"
Now, you may, possibly, already see where I am going with this. The "Oh my, that guy over there sure fucked up!"-approach is commonly used in politics all over the world, especially in the EU at the moment(goddamn elections). And, well, my chief-of-division has the same way of dealing with other organisations. Especially if they're not our partners/"friends". Now, in aforementioned talk, he told me who he wants to bash, and why. I certainly see WHY he wants to do it - We want to get a bigger, better Image, while diminishing the public Image of our "opponents".

I'm just not really happy with it, at all. I don't want to act like this. I want to show the public that we are awesome because we care for them, not because "everyone else is shit."

Some will now say "well that's how the world works" and shrug. Yes, that's true - in part. It is true as long as people accept, or even support it. But it doesn't have to be this way, as shown by Riot. You don't HAVE to use negative reinforcement. Yes, it's easy. Yes, it's effective. But is it honourable? Hell no. It's cowardly and hateful.

Now, my superior probably thinks "Excellent, this guy can write, and I can mold him just how I want him to be!". Instead, I will try to mold him, or at least free myself of having to do the "dirty work". Yes, this could easily get me fired somewhere down the line. And I'm OK with it. I'd rather look for a new job than act against everything I believe in.
*sigh*
We'll see how it goes.

Alright, that's all for now. Next post is more on the happy side, hopefully.

Cheers.
(and a shoutout to Nerdfighteria, by the way. The world doesn't HAVE to suck.)

On sausage and monkeys

Salutations everyone!

Everyone alright? Feeling good? I do. I had my first radio-interview today. National radio! :D

Different topic:

I really need to talk about this, since my country can't shut up about it:

The bearded lady-man that won the eurovision song contest.

No, I won't mention his name. Not because I hate him/her/whatever. I'm all for tolerance and abolishing genders, go ahead. I even applaud his courage. 

No, I'm annoyed because EVERY SINGLE newspaper in the entire country just CAN NOT stop writing about him. Yeah, okay, he won the song contest, good for him, good for us! But I am sick TO DEATH of those awful, AWFUL puns everyone has to make with his name.

(Explanation for those unaware: the family name-part of his pseudonym – or stage name – is the german word for sausage.)

Every single bloody fucking idiot/monkey(idiot-monkey?) with a typewriter is making sausage-puns. Now, puns are acceptable. Once. Maybe twice. But this is getting out of hand! It's like a contagious, mind-altering virus. And I'm seriously terrified of catching it. DO NOT WANT. Also I have to read every single one of them, because a part of my job is looking through the press each day and taking notes about stuff we should mention ourselfes. Bleh.

Some Pen&Paper coming up sooner or later – will write about that in the future. Really feel like exploring some of the NPCs I thought of, maybe detailing their backstory a bit. Y'know, stuff that is useful for DMs(that's me, in this case) when they plan further campaign progress.

Cheerio lads, talk t'ya later!

Oh joy, rambling and porn.

(Porn is in english. Rejoice, world.)

Tagchen allerseits!

Ein komisches Gefühl, wieder einen Blog zu haben – einerseits ist durchaus der Wille da, zu schreiben, wenn nicht sogar das verlangen. Andererseits – was „darf“ ich teilen, was nicht? Was würde als Stigma wirken, als dunkler Fleck auf meiner „weißen Weste“, würde mein Arbeitgeber oder ein(e) zukünftige(r) Lebenspartner(in) davon erfahren?

Auf beide Fragen antworte ich ziemlich entschieden „eigentlich eh alles. :D“, während ich mir voll bewusst bin, dass mir selbiges irgendwann einmal, in ferner, ferner Zukunft, so richtig „ins Kraut schei*en“ kann, wie wir (ich und mein Freundeskreis) zu sagen pflegen.

Jener Umstand wird von mir akzeptiert und total ignoriert, was mir öfter mal eben jener Freundeskreis bei diversen Verkehrsvorschriften vorwirft.

Ich bin aber auch ein böser Junge. :p

--

Zu jung, oder wirklich, wirklich nicht in der Stimmung für schriftliche Pornographie? Dann jetzt den Tab wechseln, den Browser schließen oder den Monitor anzünden, ansonsten: weiterlesen.

Folgendes Werk entstand in der Zeit als ich, arbeitslos wie ich war, nicht schlafen konnte. „Ich will was schreiben“, sagte ich mir. „Ich setz' mich jetzt in die Küche und schreib' irgendwas.“ Und genau das ist auch passiert. Inspiriert von Corruption of Champions und ähnlichen Werken, zusammen mit einer Prise ungesund-intensiver Fanliebe für Portal präsentiere ich:

Too joung for porn or really, really not in the mood for Hentai-esque almost-rape? Then look away, fast. Oh, and a shoutout to Fenoxo. I got, like, half of my porn-writing skills from "playing" your games! The other half is cybersex. Ah, glorious youth, spent in Neverwinter Nights, roleplaying.

<OldManVoice>I'm telling you, those were the days.</OldManVoice>

Relaxation Chamber

Portal-themed written Smut. Yes, that's right. I went there.

God I feel smug right now.

(Authors' note on the setting/timeline: Set somewhere in the early Stages of Portal 2, assuming that Chell goes back to a Hibernation Chamber similar to the one you wake from in the beginning of the game. Why would she do that? Because there's a lot of testing between GlaDos waking and Wheatly de-railing the whole procedure. Days of it. Weeks! And for testing, you need to be rested. So GlaDos puts Chell in one of those nifty Apartments on rails at the end of every day. Makes decent enough sense, don't you think?)

The elevator came to a halt, she exited and the cold glow of the screens displaying Aperture-adverts greeted her, as usual. Chell felt a bit uneasy - the last Testing Chamber almost killed her, her legs were shaking a little and her heart still hadn’t fully calmed down. She took a moment to breathe and to remind herself that the sooner she got through, the sooner she got to get back to the Hibernation Cell, with a bed and the faint Illusion of a calm life. She finally got her legs to stop shaking when she remembered the other ‘activities’ she planned on doing once she got back to her bed. She straightened her jumpsuit, enjoying the brief sensation of fabric rubbing over her nipples while displaying an almost cheeky grin on her face and thinking about how not even the mad AI could take her masturbation routine from her(that's what she thought, anyway).

Chell grabbed her Portal Gun, nodding to herself in confidence and went to take a look at the backlit Hazard-display in front of the next Testing Chamber. There was just one single hazard-symbol on the display: a stylized human, lying on a surface, with multiple hearts over it's head. “Maybe something with a Companion Cube?” she thought to herself, keeping a faint smile from her previous self-confident grin. No vocal introduction hailed her when she approached the round, automatic door leading into the testing area, just a camera following her movements. The door opened as expected, and she went inside.

The chamber itself didn't look as convoluted as she expected this far in the testing – a button and an associated door, nothing else. No laseremitters, no crate-droppers, no gel-dispensers. Just a button and a door. The “wires” that led from the button to the door spiraled around the pedestal of the button in a weird manner that made no sense to her, even branched off or just disappeared under the groundplates, but since the connection led to the door as well, she just pressed the button, ready to dodge whatever GlaDOS might throw at her. Nothing happened. Chell turned her head, looking for anything to change in the chamber - too late did she notice the aperture-white clamps that took hold of her ankles and affixed her feet to the plate she was standing on. Quite surprised she tried to wriggle her feet free, but to no avail: the tight, rubbery grip around her ankles did not move an inch, and neither did she.

Then, she finally heard the voice she almost started to miss. “Welcome to the voluntary relaxation chamber. This is not a test.” Chell heard an almost silent buzzing under her – she looked down and widened her eyes in shock as an about 10 inch long, anatomically modeled phallus of the same color as the clamps emerged from under the ground plates, affixed to a robotic arm. “This chamber was built to relax our test subjects by relieving them from the stress of testing. If you do not wish to take this offer for free relaxation, say 'no' now.” Chell stared, quite horrified, at the mechanical dildo and tried to say, then shout something, anything really – she knew she just wasn't capable of formulating anything other than guttural noises, and so did GlaDOS. Desperate, she forced out “Nnnnnnnn!” and “Ooooooo!” as loud as possible, to which the disembodied voice responded: “Your Response has been noted as 'Anticipation'. The door to the next test will open after an additional administering of 'stress relief'.” Chell started to panic, pulling the trigger on her Portal Gun repeatedly, trying to open a portal under her and maybe escape that way, but the only response was a fizzing sound from the gun, and a seemingly emotionless GlaDOS. “The Portal Gun has been disabled in this chamber to ensure maximum relaxation”. She struggled against her bindings, trying to loosen them by hand, but even her sudden, adrenaline-induced influx of strength did not help her in any way. The buzzing of the artificial penis grew louder, and suddenly two mechanical arms, equipped with the same cuffs that held her feet firmly in place, grabbed her arms and pulled her in an upright position. She screamed, part in terror, part in frustration, as even more mechanical arms appeared from under the groundplates, equipped with grabbing tools. Those very same tools went to work on her, unzipping her jumpsuit, undressing her as far as possible without having to let go of her cuffs, which basically meant exposing her breasts and her stomach. Only now Chell spotted one single camera, across the room above the exit, watching her. She tried to look at it with her most defiant glare, but got interrupted by the feeling of cold, wet “relaxation equipment” touching her nipples, followed by a vibrating sensation between her legs, rubbing against the fabric of the jumpsuit. With a surprized „Eeeee!“ she looked down on herself, recognizing the thing currently touching her nipples as some kind of artificial tounge, lubricated and textured, rubbing over and around her nipple quite sensually. She struggled, tried to force her body away from it, but quickly realized just how vice-tight the grip around her limbs was and how little room to move she had. Again, she screamed in frustration while attempting to struggle – she felt her nipples getting hard, and she was not ready to admit defeat to her AI-Overlord.

She wasn’t really frightened - GlaDOS would never try to kill her without giving her a chance to escape, so she believed firmly. Of course, that would mean that she was actually doing something to help her, in her own weird way, which Chell found unsettling. Either that, or the rogue AI was just torturing her for fun. Her mental breakdown of the situation got interrupted by a pair of very soft, artificial lips that closed around her other nipple, applying a gentle sucking, while the vibrating between her trained and slim thighs intensified. She felt herself enjoying it, but still wasn't ready to just submit – she continued struggling, shouted angrily in the direction of the camera. “Let me go, you monster!” she thought, but all she shouted was “Aaaaaaaa!”. Her eyes widened as her shouting actually changed something: one of the roof plates moved to the side, and another anatomically correct phallus descended from above, a bit shorter, but otherwise identical to the counterpart between her legs. The clinically clean dick, complete with veins and an engorged head, put itself against her lips, which she pressed together while pulling her head away from it as far as possible. She tried desperately to keep her composure, to not let up and resist as much as possible, if only to defy GlaDOS, but a sudden electric shock through her nipples made her loose her concentration and gasp in surprise, just for a second – more than enough time for the artificial cock to force itself between her lips. She tried to scream, but her mouth would only emit a muffled “Mmmmmhh!”, sealed thight by the phallic instrument. She tried to bite it, but the quite hard rubber, which she assumed felt like an actual, hard dick, proved stronger and just started moving slowly in her mouth, with its head rubbing over her tongue in a slow, pumping manner. She was so busy regulating her breathing through her nose and just getting a grip of the situation that she didn't even really notice some of the mechanical arms cutting open her jumpsuit, which made it slide off of her. She only really noticed her orange suit missing as the vibrating, 10 Inch long Dildo pressed it's head against her pleasurebutton, sending a not inconsiderable wave of pleasure through her. Combined with the sucking and licking sensations on her nipples, she just couldn’t supress her needs any longer and moaned loudly onto the slowly growing artificial cockhead that started to fill out her mouth. For the moment, she totally forgot that she was supposed to resist and actually started rubbing her tongue alongside her oral invader, enjoying the closest she ever came to a real dick and drifting away into her own sex fantasies. The sudden feeling of her pussy being invaded broke her trance and made her realize that this, probably, was only the beginning. She tried to pull together some of her remaining fighting spirit - not that it would have changed the situation - and tried to somehow force the cock out of her mouth to scream. Pressing her tongue against the fat dick had a radically different result - it started twitching ever so slightly and dumped a gooey substance into her mouth, filling it so full she was forced to swallow it, since her lips were still sealed shut by the massive girth of her intruder. Only after it had its full payload delivered did it retreat, finally allowing her to breathe normally again. She coughed, shook her head, tried to focus, but she could only moan from the now rather pleasureable buzzing inside her pussy while her B-Cup breasts, not used to touches other than her own, where still being treated to expertly administered sucking and licking. Slowly, her restrains moved her forward, first into a kneeling position, then on to all fours. She tried to fight back, but the sheer force of the orgasm she felt approaching left her mind almost blank. A loud and lust-filled moan escaped her, then a second one, and finally she came, crying out in pleasure with the strongest climax she had ever felt as the vibrating tip suddenly pushed against a very sensitive spot inside of her she didn’t even know existed. Her mind went blank, every single thought pushed aside by the massive orgasm while her body was rocked by uncontrollable spasms.

-end of part 1-

If you didn't go mad while reading thisk, well, you're one of us now.

Welcome, cookies are on the left, right next to the Horsecocks.

Feedback is encouraged/Kommentare sind erwünscht.

Until we read again!

Why would I ever...

...start writing another Blog? (Yes, I had one before. It's gone now.)

Simple, really: I feel the NEED to write. A searing desire to create – others draw, or sing.Not because they do it for money (well, some do), but because they want to. Now, I do like singing myself, in the sense of ”the squealing you sometimes hear when somebody sings in the shower“; and when I try to draw, the paper starts crying. But what I CAN do is write. Some people tell me I’m pretty good at it.

Some tell me I’m an ass, but that's unrelated.

Anyways!

This fire inside me was locked away, burning on low flame, for a long while now – but now, since I started a job where I write for a living (kinda – it's a lot more boring than it sounds), I just can't stand not having an outlet for the writing I WANT to do. That does not mean that I don't like the stuff I write at my job, heavens no. But I won't get to write the “crazy stuff” there, like Fantasy, or SciFi, or Porn (writing smut – ever looked at CoC/TiTs? – is more fun than it sounds!), or any other genre I happen to be interested in at that time.

Oh, and I also like writing about really, really specific stuff. Like the Calculations that brought me to my current TekkitLite Nuclear Reactor-Set-up(Minecraft) or coding in Lua for my ComputerCraft-powered automated door mechanism(Minecraft again) or.. uhm...let's just say I played a lot of Minecraft/Tekkit with 2 of my friends the last few weeks.

Other than that: League of Legends, Pen&Paper, FTL, Kerbal Space Program and a bunch of other Stuff. Like Card games, or... well, y'know. STUFF. Mostly games though. There's even a possibility I could write about building awfully specific electronic circuits, or what challenges I faced when I tried to fix the electrical wiring of the 80-years-old house of my parents. I might even do Youtube-Videos at one point or another. I'm not a good singer, but my voice seems to be great for voice-acting. I'm actually trying to do voice-acting for a living at some point(in the far, far future) – heck, my voice was one of the reasons why I was hired!

Oh, and I write in both English and German. No promises on translating the German posts into English, or vice-versa.

Maybe if you ask nicely. I'm really into polite manners for some reason.

Salutations!