Message-ID: <34560asstr$1010434207@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@newsread1.prod.itd.earthlink.net> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail X-Original-Message-ID: <E6E657CE.1791@earthlink.net> From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net> Reply-To: roller666@earthlink.net MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 07 Jan 2002 00:07:10 PST X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Mon, 07 Jan 2002 08:07:10 GMT Subject: {ASSM} girl patrol, chapter 15 Date: Mon, 7 Jan 2002 15:10:07 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/34560> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, RuiJorge - NND --------------------------------------------------------- Visit my FTP site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/ <--click Click, or put the address into your browser. All my stories are there. --------------------------------------------------------------- Andrew Roller Presents GIRL PATROL Chapter Fifteen She was walking home when she saw it floating face down in the river. It looked like a beaver. For a moment she thought it was. Then it seemed like it was a dead beaver, and that scared her. She watched it floating along, bobbing in the river, and then, as if knowing she were there, and wanting to get to her, it veered, with the current, closer to the shore. It hit some sticks that were floating along. They went a little further downstream and she ran along after them, passing the village where her parents lived, following the little bear downriver. Two other children, even younger than herself, for she was six, saw her running along the river and came running after her. "What'cha doing?" a three-year-old asked her as she went chasing the dead beaver down the river. "Just following something," she said. There wasn't much to do in the village and everyone owned very little. Even a dead beaver might be worth something, and she wanted to have first dibs on it if it proved to be worth having. "Oh! Look! In the river!" the second child, a four-year-old, announced. "I seed it first!" the six-year-old, whose named was Chloe, told the other two children who now ran along with her. "I want it!" the three-year-old said. "I SAW IT FIRST!" Chloe yelled and, as if to enforce her right to the dead creature, she splashed down into the river water and dashed along a small sandy strand that abutted, and was partly washed over by, the river. Then she got bolder, and fearing the other children might somehow get to the dead beaver first, she splashed out farther. "Don't swim without telling your parents!" the four-year-old called. Chloe ignored him and paddled out into the river. She reached for the floating debris. She managed to grab the fur of the dead creature and gingerly lifted it. She wasn't afraid of dead things. She helped her mom kill and clean creatures all the time, things that her father shot. But of course if the beaver was truly dead, which it certainly must be since it wasn't moving or resisting her, they wouldn't want to eat it. It was bad to eat things that were dead of their own accord, and not freshly killed. But it wasn't a dead beaver. It was a dead bear. Except it was cute looking, with little button eyes and a nose that seemed made of thread, and a thread-mouth to go along with the nose. A small bow-tie was affixed to the front of it, and tied about its neck with ribbon. "This sure is a funny-looking cub," Chloe said to herself. She'd seen bear cubs before, but never one wearing a bow tie! "Hello," Chloe said to the bear. It said nothing back, but it smiled at her, with its little thread smile, and suddenly Chloe loved it. She hugged it, in fact, even though she was still a little afraid of it. With such a cute smile, such a creature could hardly harm her, even if it was dead. Chloe swam ashore, clutching the bear. It felt soft throughout. She could squeeze it and she felt no bones pressing against her hands, just a cuddly friendly feeling. "I like you!" Chloe told the bear, once she had it ashore. The four-year-old and the three-year-old clamored to hold it. "It's mine!" Chloe assured her friends, but you can hold it if you want to. She gave it to the three-year-old. Watching with parental concern, she let the three-year-old hug it, and then the four-year-old, both of them commenting on how soft and friendly-feeling the little bear was. Finally Chloe took it back, and walked triumphantly back toward the village with it. "Can I hold it some more? I'll be your BEST friend!" the three-year-old told Chloe. "Maybe in a little while," Chloe said. The two other children tagged along with her as if she had found the remains of a saint. With their treasure they passed two men who, despite the obvious thrill of the discovery, ignored the children. The men were dressed, like the children, it what could only be described as rags. But they did not have the dejected demeanor of the poor, in fact, they knew nothing else, or hardly so, being far from Darkness City or anyplace where wealth was accumulated. One man leaned on a rusty old hoe, one of his most prized possessions, something which he got good use out of every day. Here in this village the utility of things in agriculture determined their worth. Admittedly the ground was not good and the farming was just of the subsistence sort, but the idea of having a "bumper harvest" or something left over to sell was a concept unknown to these people. For one thing, there was nobody around for a thousand miles or more to sell anything too. Nobody, that is, who would have a use for food. Blood was another matter. "I don't like that sun," the man with the hoe said to the other man, who was leaning on a shovel. The two men looked up, hiding their eyes from the sun but trying to take in the exact color of its light. "It's gotten redder," the man with the hoe said. "What does your book say?" the man with the shovel asked. "It says if it gets red enough it bursts, like a dropped tomato." "Like a dropped tomato," the man with the shovel mused, the analogy helping him to understand what the man with the hoe was saying. "I suppose we won't have to grow any tomatoes next year then." "No, no, Frank!" the man with the hoe, who was named Ebenezer, said. "If it bursts we'll all be dead!" "It would be tough to fight off the vampires if it's night all the time," Frank agreed. "It would burst all over us and destroy us. Like a great fire!" Ebenezer said. "You worry too much about your book-learning," Frank said to Ebenezer. "Exploding suns, great cities that grew next to this river in the past, your mind is filled with too many things. Irrelevant things, as I've told you before! It's why your crops don't grow as good as mine. I may not have a hoe, like you do, but I could make better use of it if you gave it to me." "It's mine!" Chloe cried out, from somewhere in the distance, as more children learned of her find. "Farming is something I have to do, but book-learning is what I enjoy," Ebenezer told Frank. He pointed skyward. "And if that sun does blow up, then you'll see that book learning is necessary too." "Bah!" Frank spit on the ground. "Good for starting fires, that's all." Ebenezer's eyes widened. "Have you been using books to start fires again?!" Ebenezer asked, a note of panic in his voice. Frank looked sideways. He had found a collection of musty old books recently, down in a sink hole that he'd come across, half destroyed with mildew but still, in the hands of Ebenezer, no doubt readable. He had let the leaves dry in the sun and they were proving great for starting his household fire at night. He wasn't about to let Ebenezer cart them off to foolishly save them and read them. "Nah," Frank said. "Well don't be burning any," Ebenezer said. "If you find any give them to me." "And help you with your crops too, eh?" Frank said. Ebenezer turned. "I guess I'd better go tend my field," he said, though in fact he wanted to go look at his book again, and compare the color of the light under the heading "Novas and Supernovas" with the color of the sun in the sky. It was redder, he was sure of it. And even if Frank didn't believe him, he was sure that the sun blowing up was a much worse problem than vampires were. 30 ------------------- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls! ------------------- -- More stories at: http://groups.google.com/ Search by typing: roller666@earthlink.net Click on "Power Search" Change "standard" archive to "complete" archive. -- Other providers: IFLC: http://assm.asstr-mirror.org and http://asstr-mirror.org Anya's Lil' Hideaway: http://www.insatiable.net/ Silver: http://www.mr-yellow.com/goodies The Backdrop Club: http://www.backdrop.com Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated -- Great art books by David Hamilton and Jock Sturges are at: http://www.amazon.com http://bn.com (photos of naked little girls) -- Naked little girls/politics: http://www.AlessandraSmile.com Man/boy love: http://www.nambla.de Politics: http://www.lp.org http://www.isil.org http://www.fear.org http://www.fija.org http://www.aclu.org -- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller. All rights reserved. -- Visit me at: http://home.earthlink.net/files/Authors/Roller/www666/index.html Or at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/www/index.html (It is case sensitive, i.e. type Roller, not roller). -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+