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Message-ID: <50015asstr$1104221402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Writerzblocked@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} New WZB "Not Just Another Teen Sex Story" (humor)
Lines: 872
Date: Tue, 28 Dec 2004 03:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


 

<1st attachment, "assmnotjustteen.txt" begin>

Copyright 2004 by Writerzblocked

   "NOT JUST ANOTHER TEEN SEX STORY"

   Samuel Brittle was just your ordinary American geeky nerd, right up
until his 17th birthday.  He had all the same kind of ordinary family you
read about all the time -- a mother, father, overbearing older sister named
Marisa and an old basset hound named Duke.  He lived in the same house you
read about and went to the same high school that's in every other story. 
But Sam had a problem none of those boys in those stories ever had to worry
about.

   He couldn't get it up.

   Yeah, yeah, it caused him no end of embarrassment and shame, but
fortunately for him, no one else knew about his little problem.  He tried
yanking and yanking and looking at all the naughty pictures all those other
boys in all those other stories looked at and reading all those nasty
stories that all the other boys read, but nothing worked.  Other than this,
eh, little difficulty, he went about his everyday life fairly normally
until his 17th birthday.  Well, OK, technically, it was the day BEFORE his
birthday that he seemed to notice that things weren't exactly normal
anymore.

   That's the day he was gang-raped by the high school lesbian clique.

   Yeah, he was pretty surprised too.  He was minding his own business,
sneaking right through the closed door of the girl's locker room just like
every other boy in these stories do, but instead of finding a bunch of
half-dressed cheerleaders, the lesbian society club found him.  At first
they didn't seem to notice him, they were all sitting naked and
cross-legged in a circle in the big shower room chanting in unison in this
language he didn't understand.  Figuring it must be some kind of bizarre
lesbian commune with nature thing, he nonetheless found himself strangely
drawn into the room and before he knew it, he was standing right in the
middle of the circle, surrounded by six of the most dangerous women on the
planet Earth.

   Which is pretty much where our story begins.

   "What the fuck?" Sam said, shaking his head.

   "Here he is, Sisters of Dagan-Were, the chosen one on the day of the
coming of the Gengen!" intoned Claire Delgado, Holder of the Yellow Ribbon
of Learning and vice-president of the yearbook committee.

   "Finally, our destiny is near!" answered Sarah Krugman, Keeper of the
Silver Silvioariad and last year's Junior Varsity Volleyball Captain.

   Jenny Jenkins, Jangian of the First Order, and holder of the school
record for the 100-yard dash, jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms
around the shocked teen, who was wondering, in order, what the hell was
going on, why everyone other than himself was buck nekkid, and, most
importantly, why two of the girls he'd known since the fourth grade were
talking like they were all in an episode of Xena, Warrior Princess?

   "Quickly, sisters, before he can run," Jenny was tearing at his varsity
jacket (he got it for the Computer Pentathlon, OK) and Kim Mathias was
reaching for his belt buckle.  Instinctively, he started to struggle, then
his eye caught Kim's titties bouncing below him and he decided who was HE
to argue with destiny?  It was only when Leslie Templeton pulled his
jockeys down to his ankles that he remembered his "little problem" and he
started struggling again, more out of embarrassment than anything else.

   The moment his little package felt the cool air of the shower room, all
six of the girls instinctively gasped and averted their gaze, giving him
the chance he needed.  Unfortunately, he tripped over his pants down around
his feet and fell face first on the tile floor.

   "Strength, sisters!" yelled Jenny as she once again grappled with Sam,
who was now crawling on his hands and knees towards the door.

   "Though it turns the stomach, sister Jenny is right!" Leslie said from
somewhere behind him.  "For the future of the sisterhood!" Sam suddenly
felt six or eight more hands clutching at his body and, though he tried his
best to fight, he soon found himself on his back, staring at the ravenous
faces of six sex-hungry lesbians, all of them quoting lines that you
wouldn't hear in a badly dubbed Hong Kong kung-fu flick.  And, no, the
sheer silliness of the situation was not lost on him.  As he stared,
red-faced, at his limp prick, he wondered exactly HOW more strange it could
possibly get.

   But, of, course, it did just that.  As the others held him down, Claire
closed her eyes and breathed deeply and suddenly a dim red glow began to
radiate from her hands.  Her neck craned back as she lifted her face to the
ceiling and she gave a yell in a language that Sam couldn't begin to
understand.  But in the interest of the tale (and to maybe score some cheap
chuckles), I'll do you all a favor and translate these ancient techniques
for the masses.

   "Virgin hand of penis worthiness!!!!!" (OK, OK, so it doesn't really
make a whole lot of sense - blame the guy who named it :-).

   Then Sam watched in horror as both of her hands descended on his body in
lightning-quick strokes, hitting his stomach, waist, thighs and crotch in a
pattern so quickly that his eyes could not follow.  "Ahhhhhhhhhh!" he
closed his eyes and screamed, though all he really felt was a bit of a
twinge in his balls and a vibration in his toes that actually felt kinda
good.  All of a sudden, the room was quiet, then one by one, he heard the
women gasp.  He opened his eyes and, well, he gave a pretty good gasp
himself.

   His dick was hard.  And big.  And getting harder.  And bigger.  And
harder.  And bigger.

   He'd seen dozens of pornos he'd borrowed from friends in his
never-ending attempt to get his dick hard.  He'd seen hundreds of pricks on
tape and live (in gym showers, for you people with dirty minds).  But he'd
never seen one bigger (or harder) than the one he was seeing right now. 
And it was HIS.

   Suddenly, he forgot ALL about nekkid lesbians, strange red glowing hands
and bizarre ritualistic language.  "OK," he said with a HUGE smile.  "Who's
first?"

   The six women looked at each other.  "The holy fountain of the chosen
seed," Leslie whispered.  "Though it makes my legs tremble and my pussy
shake with fear, I will volunteer to be the first."

   Sarah shook her head.  "No, sister, the seed is too precious and it is
written that there may only be enough for one and the decision should be on
the shoulders and breasts of the one who is most fertile."

   The five turned immediately to Paula Caruso, Junior Class Secretary and
volunteer school nurse's aide.  "I...do not know," she put a hand to her
mouth.  "The very thought of that thing in my body makes my entire insides
want to come up through my throat." Immediately, the others threw her arms
around her in comfort.

   "Be strong, sister," Jenny said.  "Close your eyes if you must, for this
is for the future of Dagan-Were."

   "Ahem," Sam muttered, his hands now stroking his enormous member.  "I
don't know about you, but I've waited five fucking YEARS for this and if
one of you don't come over here in the next minute or so..."

   "SILENCE!" Claire yelled at him.  "That is too important a decision to
be left up to YOU!" And she intoned again, her hands grew red again and she
gave yet another ritualistic yell.

   "Violent hand of worthless male motionlessness!" (What, you think I
could make something like this up?)

   And before he could do so much as roll over, she leapt over him and her
fingers arced across his forehead and grazed his neck from one side to the
other.  Suddenly, he found he could no longer stroke his cock, in fact he
couldn't move any muscles below the neck at all.

   "AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" he screamed.

   "Oh, don't be such a sissy," Claire rolled her eyes as she walked back
over to join the others.

   He wanted to cry, but couldn't even do that.  "THIS close," he whimpered
as he stared impotently at his still rigid cock.  "I was this close."

   Finally, Paula swallowed hard and approached the prone teen.  Taking one
last look at her sisters, she put one leg on each side of him and slowly
lowered herself to within an inch of his organ.  Then she stood back up
again.  Claire and Kim reached out to her and gently took her by the arms.
"Close your eyes and think of Dagan-Were," Kim whispered as she stroked the
other woman's hair.  Claire took one of her hands and brought it down to
Paula's pussy lips.  "Strength, sister," she cooed as she rubbed two
glowing fingers across her sister's lips.  Slowly, the two women lowered
Paula down and Sam could feel nothing in any other part of his body EXCEPT
his cock as she worked her way slowly around him, enveloping him, and he
closed his eyes and moaned in pure pleasure as he finally felt the heaven
he'd been dreaming of for seemingly as long as he'd been ABLE to dream.

   "God," he somehow managed to think aloud, "thanks for the birthday
present, even if you WERE off a day."

   Suddenly, just as a wave of pleasure was building at the base of his
cock, he felt a vacuum pressure lifting off it and the warmness was
replaced by a sudden coolness.  He opened his eyes to see Paula standing
above him, a look of absolute shock on her face.

   "Day off?" Claire gasped.  "What the FUCK are you talking about,
seed-bearer?"

   "Uh, nothing, REALLY," Sam shook his head.  "Nothing wrong, everything's
fine."

   Claire bent over him and raised her hand and Sam's eyes grew in horror
as he watched the glow returning.  "September 24th, RIGHT?"

   "Ooh, yeah, yeah, sure...  anything, just please get her back over here,
OK?"

   Behind Claire, Paula was wiping her pussy violently with a washrag.  "I
swear, Yellow Ribbon," she was panting, almost ready to cry, "his medical
records say the 24th."

   "I swear, even if you are the chosen one, if you are lying to us..."
Claire's eyes seemed to glow red with anger.

   "You'll do NOTHING, foul sisters!"

   Sam didn't have to turn his head to recognize the newest voice, but he
did so anyway because it meant that this strange day just got even
STRANGER. At the far d to the shower room, behind the secret lesbian nekkid
ninja warriors from hell, stood his big sister, Marisa.

   And she wasn't wearing anything either.

   So, Sam thought to himself as he felt the wave at the base of his dick
subside, this is what it all comes to.  All those years of peeking and
digging through the laundry and I finally get to see her naked and STILL
can't do a damned thing about it.  Of course, that didn't stop him from
staring anyway.  She was extra fine, his sister, tall, dark, lithe and
athletic and, well, without clothes she actually looked a LOT like the rest
of the naked lesbian ninjas in the room.  Talked a lot like them too.

   "Leave the seed-bearer alone, dark ones, and I may let you live," she
sneered.  Sam has seen that sneer before, and it always worked like a charm
on him.  Alas, not on nekkid lesbian ninjas.

   "Brittle!" Claire hissed.  "At last you are revealed," she pointed at
his sister's crotch.  "The mark of the Verna-Were." Sam strained his eyes
to see and, sure enough, noticed her bright purple pubic hair was shaved in
the shape of a "V."

   Purple?

   By this time, Sam decided that nothing else that happened today would
phase him.  Well, almost nothing.  All this chaos going on around him, the
world that he knew was falling apart, his sister was naked, had purple hair
and was spouting inane dialogue, and all he could think about, all in the
world he wanted to do was to TOUCH HIS FUCKING COCK!  "It's not fair," he
whimpered.  "It's just NOT fair."

   "At her, sisters!" Claire yelled, and that red glow grew around her
hands once again.  Around her, the other five slowly crept in a semicircle
towards Marisa, their hands also glowing.

   Sam closed his eyes and tried to reach deep down and summon every ounce
of mental strength he could.

   With a yell that reverberated throughout the room and seemed to bounce
off the very walls, Marisa crouched low, her feet and hands glowing with a
bright purple aura...

   "Violent hand of tempestuous orgy!"

   ...and faster than humanly possible, she leapt into the air and over the
line of lesbians, her hands and feet becoming purple blurs as she spun
through the air like a tornado, twisting this way and that, with dozens of
blows knocking the six sisters of Dagan-Were around like bowling pins,
scattering them all in different directions across the room; before finally
landing lightly two feet in front of her brother...

   ...who was so concentrated on his task at hand that he missed the entire
thing.  He was fighting, imagining, willing his fingers towards his cock
with all his might.

   Claire the Yellow Ribbon quickly leapt to her feet and touched the
glowing purple mark on her forehead.  "No," she muttered to herself.  "It
is not possible."

   Marisa turned slowly around and smiled.  "What, you think the
seed-bearer would be left without guard?"

   "But...no one..." Claire muttered as the purple mark began to fade and
both of her hands moved to her pussy.  "Only Dagan-Were know the ritual of
holy orgy..."

   "You forget there was a time when not all followed your insane sect,
Yellow Ribbon," Marisa smiled.  "Enjoy the pleasure while you can."

   Claire fell to her knees, her fingers moving quickly in and out of her
holiest of holes.  Beside her, Kim and Paula, the purple marks only now
beginning to fade, were already locked in an embrace, their arms and legs
rubbing together passionately.  Slowly, Claire moaned and crept over to
Jenny, who had her tongue deep within Sarah's ass.  Marisa smiled as she
heard the moans begin.  Then she turned to Sam...

   ...whose eyes popped open as his hands jerked forward to grasp his cock.
"YES!" he screamed in victory.

   Marisa's mouth fell open.  "Samuel!  Stop that at once!"

   "No way in HELL!" came the reply as he started stroking his massive
member with both hands.

   "Damn," she muttered.  "You're...really...big."

   "Yeah, and you're naked," he deadpanned, not missing a beat.  "Now go
out and find some more samurai to beat up on and leave me alone."

   She shook her head and her hands began to glow.  "Sorry..." she
muttered, "no can do."

   "Indigo hand of flaccid failing!"

   And her hands rained down purple on his chest and thighs and two minutes
later he was still grasping and yanking and stroking in vain, finally using
all ten of the curse words he knew on his sister as he watched his
once-proud cock shrink back down into the teeny, tiny useless thing he'd
grown up with.

   "Oh, you are in SO much trouble when we get home," he muttered as he
finally gave up and pulled his pants up.

   ________________________



   "What do you mean you're not my sister?" Sam was still trying to take it
all in as Marisa drove them home.  Actually, he was half trying to forget
it all and half trying to remember what she looked like naked.  "But I
guess that would explain the bad dubbing."

   "Yes and no.  It's all pretty complicated, Sam," she said as she turned
into their subdivision.  "But now that you know part of it, I guess you
really need to know all of it."

   He stared down sadly at his crotch.  "So next you'll be telling me Dad
isn't my dad and Mom isn't my mom?"

   "Something like that," she sighed as she pulled into the driveway. 
"It's probably best if Master Kaoshi-Dera explains it to you since he's the
only one who knows the whole story."

   "And I suppose Duke isn't really my dog either."

   She laughed for almost a minute at that one, then finally put a hand to
her head as she turned off the car.  "Believe it or not..."

   "No." The voice was INSIDE his head.

   "Who said that?" He looked around as he got out of the car.

   "THAT was Master Kaoshi," Marisa sighed.  "I think he's probably
hungry."

   "I sense that all did not go as planned, Marisa-Dera."

   "Yeah," she said aloud as she turned the key in the lock.  "You might
say that."

   "Oh, NOW I get it," Sam chuckled as he walked into the hallway.  "It's
like that Star Wars jedi stuff, right?"

   "Hehe," she laughed as she bent down to scratch the ears of the basset
hound that waddled up to her.  "More like Harlan Ellison."

   "Which reminds me, you need to return that video tonight," came the
voice again.  "A little more to the right.  Yeah, right there."

   Sam stared down at Duke as Marisa continued to scratch.  "You're not
telling me...?"

   Duke's back leg started to twitch as she scratched.  "What you looking
at?" said the voice, rather indignantly.

   Marisa chuckled.  "Two hundred years old, master of the mental art of
Yendra-Were, High-Ribbon of the school of Verna-Were and he still can't
stop his leg from twitching."

   "Don't knock it 'till you've tried it, toots."

   _________________________________

   Sam was on the couch in the living room, still staring forlornly at the
front of his pants.  "OK, now let me see if I've got this straight," he
started, "my name's NOT Sam Brittle?"

   Marisa stretched out on the recliner with Master Kaoshi-Dera (formerly
known as "Duke") on her lap.  He let out a big yawn as she answered. 
"Actually, you may as well keep it," she said.  "You'd probably never be
able to pronounce your real name."

   "Try me."

   "Sadyrachiamchi Dere-Swerrthaniaxchia, roughly translated as 'Seventh in
the line of Dere-Xanthia Sadyra, the Red Ribbon,'" came the voice in his
head.  Kaoshi scratched his ear with a back paw.

   "Eh, yeah, on second thought, I like 'Sam' better too."

   "Much easier to print on a birth certificate." Marisa said as she
grabbed Kaoshi's paw.  "Bad dog."

   "And I'm not actually FROM around here?"

   "That's one way to put it," came the voice in his head.  Kaoshi's long
red tongue lapped at one of his front paws.  "Once per Earth year, for
about five weeks, your world and this one pass close enough for the learned
ones..."

   "That's him," Marisa rolled her eyes and pointed to what Sam once
thought was his basset hound, who was now fervently chewing between his
stubby toes.

   "...to transfer the minds, spirits and essences of those powerful enough
to make the crossing from one world to the other." Kaoshi's nose sniffed at
his foot, then slowly moved underneath Marisa's skirt...

   "BAD DOG!" Marisa grabbed Kaoshi's nose and pinched it as she moved it
from beneath her skirt.  "Pervert!"

   "Oh, c'mon and give a poor High-Ribbon a break here!" came the voice as
she unceremoniously dumped the dog on the floor in front of the couch.

   "So," Sam mused, "is that why all the girls today...?"

   "Yep," Marisa huffed as she plopped back down in the recliner.  "the
cult of Dagon-Were must have somehow found where we were stashing you and
made the crossing." She put a hand to her chin.  "When anyone other than
the true learned ones arrange a crossing, they cannot bring their bodies
over, but must settle for the next best thing -- possessing similar minds
and bodies on this plane."

   "So Claire and Jenny and the others aren't REALLY...?"

   "Yes," came the voice again.  "Their minds and bodies are not really
their own, but are now possessed by extremely dangerous beings bent on
WORLD DOMINATION!" Kaoshi scratched at a long, floppy ear and Sam watched
it flip up on top of his head.

   "Uh, which world?"

   "He's being overly dramatic," Marisa sighed.  "The Dagon-Were are just
one of the many cults of evil from our world.  They have had no real power
for many, many years, but are hoping to change that."

   "So, like, how do I fit into all this again?"

   "You are Dere-Xanthia, the bearer of the holy seed." Kaoshi attempted to
spring onto the couch beside him, but only made it halfway, sliding down
instead to the carpet with a plop.  Sam stifled a laugh.  "Firstborn male
of Sadyra, the Red Ribbon, and future sire of Dere-Samaria, the Chosen One,
ruler of all worlds," finished the voice, as Kaoshi-Dere, the High Ribbon
of Verna-Were, managed to make it up on the couch on his second try.

   "Basically," Marisa said, "you're destined to be the father of the next
ruler of our world."

   "Sweet!"

   "Assuming, of course, we can keep you alive."

   "Whaaaaa?" Sam squinted his eyes and peered at her incredulously.

   "Unfortunately, there are many cruel and evil factions on our world,
Dere-Xanthia," came the voice.  Sam looked down to see Duke starting up at
him with those big, brown, droopy eyes.  "And some of them would rather not
see the line of Samaria continue."

   Marisa stood up and drew a deep breath.  "Shortly after your birth, your
real mother, Dere-Samaria Hyatcha, was betrayed and murdered and our world
thrown into chaos.  The learned ones from the holy cult of Verna-Were,
keepers of the line of Samaria, hid you away here until you could come of
age to sire the next Dere-Samaria."

   Duke climbed up onto his lap.  "Unfortunately, it looks as if we have
been betrayed yet again."

   "This is just TOO weird," Sam said as he started, out of habit,
scratching his dog's back.

   Marisa sat down next to them.  "And it's just beginning.  If the
cultists of Dagon-Were have managed to find us and make the crossing, it's
just a matter of time until others do the same."

   Sam huffed.  "I need a drink," he said, picking up Kaoshi and heading
towards the liquor cabinet.

   "No," Marisa stood up and put an arm firmly on his shoulder.

   "What, you gonna tell me I'm polluting the holy seed or something?" Sam
scoffed as he opened the cabinet door and reached for the whiskey.

   "No, you're just not legal."

   "On which world?" he chuckled and grabbed a shot glass.

   "Gotcha there, toots," laughed the voice in their heads.

   "Damn straight," Sam laughed as he poured a shot.  "If I'm old enough to
be a Holy McGuffin in a perverted Hitchcock movie, I'm old enough to get as
fucking drunk as I want."

   "Don't forget to pour some on the floor for me," reminded Kaoshi.

   "I don't think there's enough," Sam smiled as he downed the shot and
looked at the half-empty bottle.

   Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

   "RrrrrOOOWWLF!"

   Marisa looked curiously at the basset hound, as Sam jumped an inch off
the floor and fumbled to screw the cap back on the bottle and shove it back
inside the cabinet.

   "Sorry," said Kaoshi as he waddled towards the front door on his stubby
legs, "force of habit."

   Marisa sprinted towards the door and leapt over Kaoshi to look out the
peephole.  "We should be careful.  Now that Sam's secret is out, who knows
what form the forces of evil will take."

   "What?" Sam chuckled as he walked up behind them and put his hand on the
doorknob, "The 'forces of evil' on your world bother to ring doorbells?"

   "Hmm," pondered Kaoshi, raising a brown, furry ear, "that's a good
question.  If we had doorbells, would the forces of evil use them?"

   "It's only Pete," Marisa rolled her eyes as she backed off the door to
let Sam open it to reveal a uniformed postal carrier carrying a uniform
piece of postal.  Err, postage.

   "Howdy, folks!" Pete smiled, his handlebar mustache spreading out across
his chubby face.  "Home from school early today, huh?"

   "My, err, brother's sick," Marisa stammered.  "I had to bring him home."

   "Cough!" Sam coughed, up close and personal.

   "Oh, sounds like hospital material there, son," Pete winked and waved a
hand in front of his face, "I think maybe you ought to take something other
than bourbon for it."

   "Uh, yeah," Sam's face turned red as he covered his mouth and turned
towards the hallway.

   "Anyway," Pete turned to Marisa and held out the package, "since your
folks aren't here, I guess I can get you to sign for this."

   "Sure," she said, taking the package and pen.

   "Getting' many packages today?"

   "No, why?"

   "'Cause I couldn't help notice both the UPS and FedEX trucks sitting
across the street.  Bein' the competition and everything."

   "Didn't notice," Marisa handed the pen back to him.

   "Yep," Pete said, turning to look back out the open door, "been there
for a good fifteen minutes..."

   Sam walked over to the front window and was just about to peek outside
when he heard a shrill cry from the doorway...

   "Stand aside, false messenger!"

   And Sam's mouth dropped open in shock as the local postal carrier came
flying past him and landed on the carpet at the foot of the bookcase at the
far end of the living room wall, landing with a dull thud.  Standing in the
doorway, buck nekkid except for a UPS cap, was a large, black, middle-aged
man, hands glowing with a somewhat familiar ebony glow...  "Make way for
Tabar-Dere, true-messenger of Terehell, herald of DOOM!"

   "Uh-oh," Sam gulped, and crawled over to Pete to make sure he was all
right.

   "Nay!" came a second booming voice from somewhere behind the first. 
"Hold thy heathen tongue, for every assassin knows that when you
absolutely, positively have to fulfill a contract overnight, you MUST..."

   The spiel was cut off by a resounding "BOOM" as the herald of Terehell
turned and smote his unseen competitor in mid-sentence.  Sam was relieved
to see that Pete looked as if he only had the wind knocked out of him.  He
turned to Marisa and his eyes shot wide as she tore open her blouse and
ripped off her skirt and prepared to leap into the fray.

   "Oh," came a voice in his head.  "This is not good.  Only the most
powerful on our world dare to contract the services of the dire cult of
Terehell-Were."

   "Really?" Sam replied, dryly.  "They advertise on TV here."

   "Do NOT mock the cult of the Brown Messengers!" roared the first
assassin, as he turned back towards the open doorway.  "We run the
tightest..."

   ...but before he could finish his slogan, a white glow erupted from
somewhere behind him, sending him flying down the hallway, right over
Kaoshi with a force so strong that his doggy ears flopped in the wind.

   "HA!" boomed the second voice and Sam could now see him quite clearly
framed in the light of the doorway as he surveyed his surroundings.  He was
pale, short, thin, wiry and naked save for his little FedEX hat, and didn't
look anything like any assassin Sam had ever seen, which wasn't all that
strange considering the only ones he'd ever seen before today were on TV.
"Begone, foul parody of efficiency, dire mockery of swiftness, bow before
the true..."

   As he, in turn, was cut off in mid-boast by the flying glowing left foot
of Verna-Were, which just happened to be attached to the nude body of
Marisa, now glowing a particularly striking shade of purple.  Amazingly,
his little hat managed to stay on his little head as he sailed backwards
out of the doorway.

   "Yeah!" yelled Sam, and he pumped his fist.

   "Wow kid," Pete shook his head to get rid of the cobwebs.  "You got one
kick-ass sister."

   Before Sam could answer, Kaoshi waddled over across the room towards
him. "This is ominous, indeed.  He glows with the light of Gahan-Were, the
Brothers of Silver Speed.  It is doubtful she can defeat them both."

   "Who said that?" Pete shook his head again.

   As if in answer, the Black Ribbon of Terehell advanced quickly back down
the hallway, the ground seeming to rise and fall with each fell step.  "Ho,
ho, what have we here?  Is that the stink of the Verna-Were that assails my
nostrils?" He sneered.

   In response, Marisa simply looked down at his crotch and laughed.  "I
see the better part of you forgot to make the crossing."

   The large man grew even larger with that, his ebony glow invaded his
eyes and blackness began to ooze from his ears.  "Be those your final
words, little cunt of Verna!" he growled, and stomped his foot with such
force that the foundation of the house cracked beneath him, and the hallway
shook and carpet began to tear in a line towards the front door.  Sam and
Pete dodged and ducked as books fell all around them from the shelves
above.

   "Oh, better than you have tried to shut me up," she chuckled as she
backed slowly towards the doorway...

   And bumped into something very firm and very white.  "Verily, this is
not your best day, little Verna whore," a voice glowered from behind.

   "Oh," she muttered under her breath, "the day's not over yet." And she
drew a deep breath as she sensed him step back a bit and tense up...

   Suddenly, she shot forward with astonishing speed, crouched down close
to the ground, her aura concentrating in her fingers...

   "Violent hand of furious prostate!"

   ...and darting underneath the large black herald of doom, between his
open legs, quickly inserted an index finger up and in and out with a smooth
motion, finishing a few feet behind him as he struggled to turn around in
the narrow hallway.  In the doorway, the messenger of Gahan-Were broke out
in a fit of laughter as the Black Ribbon's body shuddered and his glow fled
from his body and concentrated in his nether region, his massive organ
coming to life and his ebony asscheeks vibrating uncontrollably.

   "Hmm, maybe I was wrong," Marisa giggled as she wiped her finger on the
carpet.  "Maybe you just needed some help."

   "Damn you, woman, this will NOT be the day I die!" He rumbled, as he
fell to his knees and continued to convulse.

   "Ewwwww." Over near the bookshelf, Pete and Sam found themselves
shuddering with empathy.

   "Well, well," came the voice in their heads.  "Looks like someone's been
practicing."

   "Who said that?" Pete shook his head again.

   "Hah!" laughed the assassin in the FedEX hat.  "The great herald of
Sissies, felled by a follower of the Whore.  This is truly priceless."

   "This will NOT be the day I die!" the black herald repeated and,
summoning up his strength, he raised a fist and dealt himself a massive
blow to his sacred sac.

   "Now that's just WRONG," Sam muttered to himself as he again shuddered
and turned his eyes away from the large man now rolling in the hallway and
howling in pain.  "That's just TOTALLY messed up." He put his hands down
over his lap.

   "Man," said Pete, swallowing hard.  "I got seniority.  I think it's time
I got me a new route."

   "I'll settle for getting out of the house," Sam whispered, and he
started crawling off towards the dining room.  But before he could get
three feet from the bookcase, a white blur swept past him and the smallish
figure stood glowering before him.  "Not so fast, seed-bearer, you would to
think you could outrun a Brother of the Silver Speed?"

   "Didn't think I'd have to," Sam replied, as he caught the now-familiar
purple glow out of the corner of his eye and rolled over and up against the
wall.  A split-second later, a flurry of open hands and naked feet
surrounded the area between Sam and the assassin and if it weren't for the
differing colors, he'd have never been able to tell which belonged to who.

   "You have been trained exceedingly well, whore woman," the man of
Gahan-Were, wiping the blood from his nose and smiling as he stepped back
from the purple wall of arms and legs, hands and feet.  "You fight with
purpose."

   Marisa likewise stepped back, her hair wet with perspiration and her
breathing labored.  "You would expect less?"

   "Of course not, but I grow impatient." He spat.  "It is not our custom
to fight outside our school, whore, but since you found it appropriate
against the Black Ribbon, I feel I have no duty to hold back."

   "Nor would I expect it," she smiled.

   He laughed.  "Very well.  Let us see how much of a whore you really
are." And as he struck a pose, the white glow over his body slowly pulsed
out away from his body.

   "Oh, this is bad," came the voice in Sam's head.  "I did not know the
Silver Brothers practiced such things.  I have been gone too long.  She is
not trained for this."

   "What the hell IS that?" Pete shook his head again.

   Sam picked up the dog and inched backward towards the bookshelf again.

   With a sly smile, the man of Gahan-Were suddenly raised both his hands
and ribbons of white light weaved through the air towards Marisa...

   "Ivory ribbons of unending pleasure!"

   ...and she managed to dodge one of the beams of light, the other grazed
her right leg.  Immediately, she took a jump back and gave a cry.  Her
right leg went all wobbly and she thrust her right arm down to brace
herself.  "Wha...?"

   Smiling like a maniac, the Silver Brother raised his hands again and
again the glow weaved though the air.  Her left leg went soft and she fell
to her knees on the carpet, moaning with pleasure.  Again, he raised his
hands.  As both beams shot through her body, her muscles failed her and she
lay rolling in ecstasy on the thick shag carpet.

   Heaving a heavy sigh, the assassin walked and stood over her.  "You were
good, young whore, but you can at least die knowing you were bested not by
any Brother of Gahan-Were, but the head of the house of Giddon, the Silver
Ribbon Giddon-Dere himself." He bent down and took her head in his hand as
she moaned with pleasure, rubbing her legs together carnally and running
her hands all over her body.  "As well the FedEX city manager," he added,
smiling, and doffing his hat with his off hand.  "You should be honored."

   With eyes still full of fire, she whispered "For Verna-Were," between
shudders of pleasure, and somehow managed to muster enough strength to slap
him lightly across the cheek.

   Suddenly, 'The Fellowship of the Ring' (trade paperback version) hit him
square between the shoulder blades.

   "For Earth!" he heard Sam yell, as he ducked the copy of 'The Two
Towers.'

   "For the US Postal Service!" Pete yelled, but the copy of 'The Return of
the King' landed a good two feet to his right.

   "Well, now," the assassin sighed, "if you're done throwing trilogies at
me..."

   "We've got one chance," came the voice in Sam's head.  "The ultimate
form of the mental art of Yendra-Were."

   "Who the hell SAID that?!" Pete again shook his head.

   "La di da," Sam glared at his dog.  "You mean the high muckity-muck,
celestial kung-fu, big shot, jedi master is finally gonna fucking DO
something?"

   "Well, if you're QUITE finished..."

   "That's it," Pete shook his head for the final time.  "Now you're
talking to the dog.  This HAS to be a dope deal, right?"

   "Put me down and stand back," Kaoshi thought.

   "Yeah, a dope deal gone bad," Pete mused to himself as he prepared to
die.  "And somehow I got some without knowing it."

   "It was more of a challenge finding you than it will be dealing with
you," Giddon-Dere said as he approached.  Behind the assassin, Sam could
see the Black Ribbon had recovered and was stumbling towards them.

   "And the UPS and FedEX guys are delivery guys and we're all high," Pete
mumbled as he closed his eyes for the last time.

   Swallowing hard, Sam put Kaoshi down between himself and the approaching
assassins.  The basset hound shook himself once, then looked up at the
fellow Ribbons with those big, brown, soulful eyes...

   "Yip" ("Ultimate eyes of affectionate cuteness.")

   Suddenly, both the High Silver Ribbon of Giddon-Dere and the dread Black
Ribbon of Terehell-Were stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes went
blank, their mouths fell open and drool started dribbling slowly down their
cheeks.

   "Awww, wook at the cute wittwe doggie!" The FedEX assassin fell to his
knees and scratched the Yendra master's ears.

   "Oh, I bet da wittwe doggie wants his tummy all rubbed." The big black
man cooed sweetly as bent down and turned Kaoshi on his back.

   "I think I'm gonna be sick." Sam moaned as he watched the unholy mental
power of the dominant species on two worlds unleashed.

   "Better than...ahhh...being...oooooh, dead, right?" The dripping sarcasm
(mixed with the warm and fuzzy feeling of an absolutely amazing tummy
scratching) in the voice was insufferable.

   "Another few minutes of this and I might not be able to tell the
difference," Sam sneered as he stumbled over to Marisa, who was slowly
regaining her senses.

   "It's taking...ahhh...all of the...ohhhh...mental power...oh, yeah,
right there...I can muster to...yeahyeah...keep this...up."

   "Yeah, it really sounds like you're having a tough time of it." Sam
helped his sister to her knees.

   "Oh, wook at aww da fuzzy wrinkly skin."

   "Look...ahhh...you need to...ooooohhh...get her and get...aaaahhh...out
of here."

   "What about you?"

   "Ohhhh....I think I can...ahhhhh...manage."

   Marisa regained her feet and headed to her room.  "He's right," she
said. "We need to pack and start moving."

   "Where?"

   "Anywhere but here for right now.  We KNOW it's not safe here."

   Ten minutes later, the two of them passed the two mesmerized assassins
and one extremely happy Yendra master on the way out the door.

   "How you holding up?" Marisa asked, bending down to get a hand in the
orgy of tumultuous tummy worship.

   "As well as...ahhh...can be...ohhhh...expected.  I'll hold
them...oohhhh...here as long as I...yeahrightthere...can.  The hardest
part...is trying...ahhh...not to fall...yeah...asleep."

   "I bet," she smiled on her way out the door.  "Thanks."

   "Don't worry..about...ohhhh...me.  You need to keep HIM safe.  It's all
up to you now."

   As the SUV pulled out of the driveway, Pete the postal carrier sat on
the street in his US Postal Service van, talking on his cell phone.  "No,
Mildred, I'm telling you I'm too high to drive.  I'm still seeing naked UPS
ninjas and talking dogs.  I'm gonna call the office and tell them to send
someone out for me.  Oh, yeah, and that vacation we've been talking about?
Book it for next week.  In the middle of the desert somewhere.  Or a swamp.
Or Antarctica.  Somewhere where everyone wears clothes."

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