Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Bracha (MF Ampu, Cyber, Anal)
   Tokyo flew by around me, even the other cars drifting past, hardly
seeing me before I was gone.  Comming to a turn, I twisted, rear fork into
the skid, and front one through it, dumping brake energy from the inside
wheel to the outside.  They caught pavement, and I took off, at right
angles to the last street.
   I pulled up, to a bunch of cars, parked by a building.  Dumping all the
momentum into the generator, I came to a stop, pushing all four wheels
down, and locking to stand at my full height.  "Hiya!" my face plate folded
up, and I gave my favorite grin.
   Tengus, rhombicars like my wheel print, but far less advanced.  They all
had decals, jackets, and tattoos of the Three Diamonds gang.  They got up,
checked me out, sorted themselves on the scrotum pole.  "Whucha got under
the hood?" One of them was up, or a hatch between the wings.
   Much better than me aerodynamicly, it's two delta wings, one pointed
low, foreward, and the other high, in back.  The intake ducts between them,
they let me roll between them, peek over the side.
   A draft turbine, it sucks air in, pulling it to the ground, and blowing
out to co-axial turbines in the drive wheels.  The front, and rear forks
are fared into the fusilage, but I could see the rear hub, mounted to the
back of the engine compartment.
   "Nice heat exchanger," I noticed it was aftermarket, higher capacity,
and looked like better flow.
   "Electro-cooled," it's proud owner leaned over the other side.
   I felt something slide up from my leg, and slapped a hand off the studs
covering my ass.  I didn't even look back, just flew a finger over my
shoulder.  "Nice," regenerative, it turned heat into power, "Electhermal
Conversion?"
   "Hei," he nodded, once, like they do.  Of course, the electricly cooled
heat exchanger works best with a plasma jet in the chamber, turning it it
into an ion engine.  The exhaust drives the intake turbine, just as the
re-generated heat from the exchanger feeds energy back into the plasma
torch.
   Of course, the Tengus are more of a front for the OEM, a corperately
funded racing crew for the streets, so more wheel gangs will buy them. 
Like many things, the Japanese didn't invent Capitalarchy, they just
perfected it.  They didn't invent the wheel either, "Fast?" I lifted my
eyebrows.
   "Wanna find out?" even his eyes grinned, and he reached up to drop the
louvered hatch.
   "Let's roll," I nodded hard, dropping my canopy, and switching to
rear-view to roll back.  I had to wait for him, to climb into the better
part of a tonne of car, strap in, drop the canopy, and spin it up.  It
started like a fighter jet, taxiing out between the diagonally parked
diamonds, and pulling up next to me.
   "{Were too?}" I radioed over to him, and he reached down to his dash.
   "{Just try to keep up,}" his pack pulled up behind me, and he pulled
foreward.  Switching diagonally, he stuck right in front, the three diamond
pattern, the Mitzubishi.  I dropped a few inches, swiveling my wheels, and
literally ran a half circle around him, already moving.  He sucked in,
suspension flexing from the downforce, accellerating to pace me.
   I turned my head, so he could see my smile through the visor.  My front
fork dropped, and I leaned over, digging in my back leg.  Then I discharged
my capacitors straight into the side hubs.  There was a high whine,
doppling away as I dissapeared man, cut, swiveled, stabilised, spun, and
came to a stop.
   They didn't brake, so I took off backwards, switching to rear view.  Not
letting them quite catch up, I shifted my body vertical, and waived. 
Turning at speed, I showed them my back, and dissapeared.  I took a high
speed lane, banked up on the turn, then back down, coming around a block
sized building.
   Three more rights, and I followed traffic, disrupted by them.  They'd
turned after me, and I came up behind, lapped them before the next turn,
and slowed down, in the center of their triangle.
   The leader, out front in the chrome one laughed, and pulled over.  His
wingmen came in flanking, diagonaly at the curb as before.  I had my helmet
off, and he jumped out.  "That's not fair!"
   "All's fair in the street," shouldn't have raced out of your class, but
then again, I am my own.
   "Takae'," he held out a hand, and fully standing, I had to reach up to
it.
   "Bracha." I unsealed my helmet, and pulled it off.  Letting go of his
hand, I rubbed my scalp, and scratched behind my ears.
   "What happened to you legs?" his Engrish wasn't perfect, but he was
cute.
   "I had an accident," I spread them enough to turn the forks, and spun in
my own wheel print, "These are better, anyway." He turned to his gang, and
I saw he had an interface jack, vehicle link on the back of his head.  "You
got a Garage around here?"
   "Yeah," he turned back, or the local equivalent, like "High".
   "I want to make you a proposition." I slipped my helmet on, "I'll try to
keep up." and flipped down the lid.  It was close, and I stayed in
formation, the delta of diamonds.  Behind the lead, painted shiny like the
wings were metal, instead of composite.  Twin engine, it had nacelles
between them like the two seater, but only one seat.  Maybe he had a spare
tank back there?
   The door opened automaticly, and I saw it was behind the dealership. 
There's advantages to corperate sponsorship, these guys ruled the streets,
and I rolled to a stop right in the middle of the main reason.
   "Nice," I couldn't think of anything lacking.  One of the engines was
out, on the stand, a beautiful steel flower in a bulb of a duct.
   "So," Takae' stuck his bare head out of the open cockpit, "What's your
deal?"
   I stood up, "I want one of those," I pointed to his Tengu.
   "Dealer's out front," he shrugged, and turned away.
   "They don't sell those," there was more money in upgrades than the
original price of a new one.  All official Mitzubishi design, and assembly,
they were flagship cars, advertisements on the streets.  You could even
take a ride in the two seater, the black one.
   "Wha do we get?" he was still a little hurt at being dusted, and
humiliated, and lapped.
   "These," I patted my leg.  The front one, it's a parrallelogram fork. 
Suspension, and steering in a flexible box of struts.
   "Can we drive those?" he asked, the others chatting exitedly.
   "This is a prototype," I said, "But I can make you motoluges."
   "Hei!" they nodded to each other, "Hei!" to Takae'.
   "We accept," he walked over to the office, shouted something in that
screaming language of their's.  "Come in my office," he grinned, "An we
work this out."
   I watched his ass move as I followed him, the muscles in the tight legs
of his skuff pants.  His aren't studded, like my suit, but he's less likely
to take pavement at hundreds of MPH.  Yeah, my legs are great, and all, but
they can't fly.
   The Tengus don't just look like wheeled planes, they can take off, and
fly with a long enough runway.  It's illegal in city limits, but efficient
between them, especially on mountainous volcanic islands.  They don't have
interstates, just enough strips around the city, and the world's best
traffic control.
   He closed the door, sat on his desk.  "Do I need to sign something?"
   He smiled, "I was hoping we could work out another arraingement," he was
still breathing hard, the rush of racing, like mine redening his sweaty
cheeks.
   "Sure," I reached up to my collar, and pulled down.  Rolling foreward, I
pulled apart the flaps of my jacket, let him reach inside, slip his hands
around my boobs.  I was already hot, damp, excited, my nipples digging in
his palms.  His shirt came open, and I licked his tummy, the thin curls
around his belly button.  His hands gripped my head, pushed me down as I
pulled down his shorts.
   He had boxers printed in a pattern of diamonds, like benzines repeating,
the logo tesselated indefinetely.  He smelled strong, manly as I ran the
tip of my nose through his pubes, my chin down his hardening rod.  I
engaged it, sank it in to my throat, gripped it with my lips like piston
rings, and started a nice long torquey stroke.
   He rolled his hips, cammed them, puffing out, and pulling back my
cheeks. I ran my hands up his flexing thighs, around his ass, pumping like
a giant heart, tightening, thrusting down my throat.  He fired, and I
gulped down his fluid.  Gasping, I pulled back, and whiped my mouth.
   "You got a shower in here?" I asked, smiling sweetly.  He did up his
pants.
   "No," looking a little ashamed of himself.  I looked around, found a mop
sink, and detached from my chassis.  Slipping out of the skuff-suit, I
gripped two legs, and lowered to the floor.  There was a lip, but I lifted
over it, and started the water to warm up the tiles.
   They were cold on my butt, so I wrinsed off quickly, and drained my piss
tank.  I made sure not to touch the floor, and dried my mount before
slotting back into the chassis.  It came right back online from standby, so
I rolled back out while I pulled on my sleeves.
   I should have washed the suit out too, but I didn't have any
non-industrial soap.  I sure wasn't going to use floor detergent, I
shrugged, and found the guys.  They were closing up shop, shutting down the
jet-cars, and locking up.  "Takae'?" he looked up from behing the red one,
cooling visibly from the open hood.
   "Hei," he bowed, came around, whiping his hands.
   "I don't got no place to stay," I looked up at him, "Is there any chance
I can come home with you tonight?
   "Seur," I took a half seccond to realise he said sure, and not sewer,
"Need a ride?"
   "I don't need one," I reached down to undo the bottom of my skuit, "But
I'll take one." Unhooking, I "stepped" from my standing legs to the top of
his car.  Walking over, I lowered myself into the seat.
   "Not this one," he picked up my legs, folded, about the size of a
stroller.  I got out, and followed him out.  I flapped the bottom of the
suit under my vehicular mount, and sat while he rolled shut, and locked the
door.  He had another Tengu, the twin engine two seater, and we got in
that.
   I had to take my legs with me in the back seat, while the engines
spooled up beside me.  In the ducts between the wings, he drove us out, and
down.  My heart sped up as he took us out to a runway, fired it up, and
switched to full thrust.  We took off, banking over the lights of Tokyo,
Fugi glowing in it on the other side.  The moon was out, and we headed
further into the night.
   He turned around, seat swiveling in place, and carefully put his legs to
either side of my frame.  "Autopilot," he shrugged, I'd noticed the radome
in the nose.
   "How rich are you?" probably nowhere near my family's candy fortune.
   "I do ohkei." I kind of liked his accent.  Don't get me wrong, I wasn't
in love with him, or anything, but I had all my shots, and he was cute
enough.  Almost pretty, he could drive, and knew which way to turn a
wrench. An official Mizubishi racing mechanic, he could sure help me out...
   "Let me tell you what I got planned," I said, "I want to take a Tengu,"
I patted the side of the cockpit, "one of these, and adapt it to my
chassis."
   "So you can fly," he nodded.
   "Right," I said, "No seat, just a vehicle mount, and stowage back here
for my legs."
   "That might work," he squinted, thoughtfully.  I could see the bulge of
his eyes in the lid, while he looked up.
   "Twin engine?" he asked.
   "Of course," double the power, about half-again the weight. 
"Electrothermic, regenerative."
   "Lot's of extra room," he raised an eyebrow, looked me over with one eye
open enough to see the iris.  The opposite of a wink.  I take up less space
than anyone, even with my legs.
   "A third engine?" I thought, the usual one with side engines...
   "I was thinking about that," his leer had turned thoughtfull again. 
Something rang unobtrusively, long, and sustained, a tone, or chord. 
"Excuse me," he turned back to the controls, and talked over his shoulder.
"Ef whe split one off the engeens to intakes," we nozed down to coast a
hill of air, "Than run them off te main engine center rear."
   "How many chambers?" I pictured it.
   "Two, into wan," I couldn't see, there were stars above, but only
blackness.  His head was backlit by a display, he was probably using to
navigate.  "Hol on." we tilted up, and seemed to come to a stop, stalling
in the air, like an ice-skater.  Like space mountain, I didn't have any
frame of referrance, except for a line of light under us.  It grew, longer,
but much wider, into a rectangle, then square, then elongated rectangle
under us.
   Now it was directly below, larger than the craft that I could see,
around us.  Short walls to either side came up, tilting, met overhead, and
we were inside.  He unhooked his head from the rest, and climbed out the
opening canopy.  I grabbed the sides, and jumped up to stand on them. 
Hooking into the top of my chassis, I jumped out over the Radome.  The A
frame garage had a door in each end, he led me around to the back one.
   His house, I guess, he had nice painted cement floors, and rugs I told
myself to be careful about.  Rolling to the edge of one, I hopped off, and
sank my fingers into the soft, "Fur?"
   He nodded, "I dint kill it." his eyebrows pointed down, like an upside
down chevron.
   "Don't worry," I walked over, and climbed onto a chair, "I don't know
nature well enough to love her." I sat down, rested my arms.  That walk out
to the car really took it out of me.
   He was looking down, it took me a while to notice.  The bottom of my
suit was open, my mount out in plain sight.  I switched to optical, using
the induction chip like a lens to look at him.  "You,.?" he couldn't
finish, speechless.
   "Yeah," I threw the flap over it, and sealed it in place, only the mount
was still exposed, "Something else I lost in the accident." Oh, well, not
like I wanted kids.
   He swallowed.  "You can't,.?"
   "Oh," I reached out to him, "Baby, it's okay, there's other things we
can do." I couldn't reach, didn't get up, but he leaned foreward.
   "Like what?" I took his face in my hands.  His came to rest on my sides,
my hips.
   "You got a cable?" I reached back, "we could jack each other off!"
   "How do you mean?" my fingertips traced his port.  Japanese, it has two
opposing flanges between two opposing slots.  Extemely similar to the 3x3
American standard, but unfortunately, incompatible.
   "I have an adapter," I grinned, wiggled my eyebrows.  He loved my eyes,
couldn't take his off them.  I kissed him, palming his jack with one hand,
and pulling his down to mine with the other.  He felt it, the slightly
different pattern of tabs, and slots.  I grinned into his mouth, and
rotated it.
   After the accident, my family payed for the reconstruction, my new
pelvis, and the vehicular mount.  With what I'd lost, I had them put the
latter in the natural anatomical interface position.  It bulged my lower
belly out into a rigid semicylinder, with the port at the base.  I can lock
into any compatible vehicle, and it becomes the lower half of my body.
   "Where is it?" he pulled back to ask.  He watched my eyes, his wide so I
could see them.  Like whites, and pupil, they had no color between them.
   "In my helmet," I unzipped my suit while he ran back to the car to get
it.  I fished it out, and he came back, again, naked this time, with an
interface cable.  I don't have a head mounted link, so I reached in the
back, twisted out the interface port, with five slots, and flanges.
   He reached down from the back of his head, the cable hanging behind him
like a tail.  Catching it beside his leg, he pulled it around his hip.  I
reached down, pressed the triple conection side into me, felt it engage,
and initialise.  He knelt next to me, "I never did this before."
   "Okay," I didn't know his language well enough to hack him, "I'll show
you." even if I wanted to.
   I could feel his fingertips on me, he took a deep breath, and, "Click."
   He blinked, "now what?"
   I tried to make the connection, but, "Fucking Japanese!" I couldn't make
out the characters, "Can you open the connection?"
   "Hei," he closed his eyes, and I saw them move under the lids, like he
was using a visual interface.  Then I could feel him, the port on the other
end of the cable, and adapter.  Medullar, he didn't have a visual
interface, but vestibular.
   "Hmm," his penis was soft.  Though we didn't have direct mind-to-mind
connectivity, yet, I could feel everything he could.  I reached out with My
arm, fanned my fingers under his balls, and felt it, through him.  I
broadcast, my body, the cool sweat evaporating from my short stubbly hair.
I felt his scalp twitch, and something between his legs, stirring before my
fingers felt anything different from the outside.
   He moved his hips foreward, careful of the cable, as if I'd willed it. I
sat up a little, kissed the tip, rolled it back with my lips, and felt him
feeling it.  Then I felt him feeling me feeling it, and grinned around him.
The pleasure echo, rippling between us, through the port at the other end
of my body.
   He cupped my boob again, but this time felt it, understood, and did it a
lot better.  I cupped the other one, showed him, and he learned rather
quickly.  I took his other hand, slid it down to my butt.  I'd had them
sculpted, around where my hips used to be, blended into the body of the
vehicular mount.  He felt it, then traced his fingers over the hard
housing.
   I felt his orgasm, the mindslapping rush sweeping over my head.  My
mouth fell open, semen splashing on my tongue, lips, cheek, nose.  My head
fell over, "Inh!" and my tummy quivered.  Boys don't cum like us, or like I
did, before.  Sure, if you work at it long, and hard enough, I could do it
over, and over, but theirs come all at once, like nitrous.
   I kept cumming long after he was done, slowly revving back down to idyl,
and catching my breath.  He disconnected, but I got some cool feelings from
him, feeling my orgasm.
   He carried me to bed with him, not struggling with my weight, until the
end.  He spooned around me, soft penis against my back, and jacked back
into me.  The cable between his legs, I could feel them, and his dreams. 
He dreamed of me, and I dreamed of legs, as allways.
   Walking with him, we made love, or started to when I felt the distinct
sting of his dick up my ass.  "Oh, well," I thought to him, "At least it's
Small!" I don't like that, don't crave a dick inside me enough to shove it
where the sun don't shine.  We were awake, and I tolerated it, broadcasting
how disgusting, and uncomfortable it is.
   He managed to keep it up, gripping my ass in front, and sliding into me.
I felt a little nautious, and made sure he felt me vomit.  He got off on
it, sick fucking Japanese perverts, and I disconnedcted, and pulled off of
him.
   "Baybi," He reached for me, let his hand slide down my back.
   "Fuck you," I shat his mess on his nice silk sheets, and jumped down to
find the shower.  They just had a bathtub, so I put on the cap, and hoped
it was sealed good.  The mount is waterproof, as much as I am, but the lens
is still an optical surface.
   He had a bidet, so I wrinsed, and dried myself before I got in the
water. The door unlocked, his door, and he peeked in.  "Really, I am
sorry," his eyes were low, head down so I could see only the top of it.  "I
wont," like 'want', "Do.., that,..  again."
   "Damn Skippy!" I toweled out my armpits, "You won't get another chance."
I was getting bored with him, anyway.
   "Hey," he reached a hand in, blindly, eyes still out of sight, "I think
I can make it up to you.
   "How?" I asked.
   "I can take you to someone." He closed the door, and I dried off. 
Wrinsing out my skuff-suit, I uncapped my mount, and switched to visual to
see if there was any shit water on it.  Fingerprints, his, I whiped it
clean, and re-capped it.  Snapping into my suit on the bottom, I reached up
to open the door, and walked out.
   He was outside, the door open, cigarette smoke blowing past him.  He
looked like a lost anime boy, hair lifting up sideways, that unnatural
fuscha.  I stepped my wheels over the lintel.  "Who?" Just wearing a
kimono, his skinny chest peeked out the neck, hard colorbones.
   "My sister, 'Tana" as in Ka'?  "Works for this woman, she fixes people,
sexually."
   "How do you mean?" damn it, now I was talking like them.
   "Like here," I think he ment 'her', "S'he was born wrong, mixed up, but
Genevive Sensei, she fixed here."
   "Genevive?" the Biotech lady?  "She's here?"
   He nodded, flicked away his cigarrette, and the garage opened.  Outside
lights came on, and I saw the roof was solar, a good sized surface too. 
Not enough to fly his Tengu, but maybe top off some since we landed.  The
sun wasn't up, but how much capacity did he have?
   He pulled out to the runway, so I didn't have to step over the doors,
and I got in, dropping my legs behind him, and turning around in the seat.
I wished he had a vehicle mount back here for me, but decided to lay back,
and catch some more sleep on the way.  We took off, and I drifted away,
concidering whether to dump him.
   I shook awake on landing, a glide-in to stall coast instead of the
vertical hover.  Bone stock, these things couldn't take off verticly with
two people, but who knows what he had in this thing?  Maybe the triple, or
engine and a half, if I understood his explenation well enough.
   You're on probation, I decided to the back of his head.  I'd really like
to get one of these of my own.  We decellerated up to the onramp, and
entered the city.  We didn't go for the shop, I couldn't connect to the
navigation network without my legs.  He stayed on top, the sunshine level,
because it actually got some, between the higher buildings, without
platforms between them.  Some had skyways, so you could walk.
   He took me to a small building, though, and it was getting light. 
Actually a bunch of them built together like some mutated tetris peice, the
big central one had a glass roof.  A guy came out, skipping, smiling, and
hugged, "Takae!"
   "Tana," his sister?  He couldn't lift 'her' up, larger, and more
powerfully built.
   "Hiroshmaru," she corrected, and snapped him on the nose with her
finger. Standing back, she fixed her cross tucked shirt over her small
breasts.  Easy to lose track of on her broad chest, and under the loose
fabric.  They didn't bounce, and weren't close enough together to make
cleavege.  Her chest looked like his, flat, and wirey.  "Who's this?" her
legs crossed as she turned to me.
   Her foot slipped over the pavement, I didn't hear it scrape, and then
realised she'd done it on purpose, shifting to a more stable stance.  It
was fluid, gracefull, lethal looking.  "Bracha," I hooked up, and jumped
out.  Her eyes widened, flashed red under the black, and I saw her pupils.
She was looking at my legs, so I stood up from my landing crouch, right
about the height of her navel.
   I'm pretty small, petite from hormone supression to stay light even
before I replaced my legs.  She was huge, six foot, easy, broad, and
tightly muscular.  Without a doubt the most attractive woman I'd met, but
then, I was dating her brother, wasn't I?  I covered my smile, and reached
back to grab my helmet.  She went in, arms crossed around each other with
her brother into a break room of some kind.
   They sat down, so I pulled up, eye level around the table.  "Do you guys
want anything?" Hiroshimaro asked.
   "I'm a little hungry," I said and Takae said I was here to see Genevive
at the same time.  Hiroshi looked up, eyes closed, and said something in
Japanese.
   "She's not busy," she opened her eyes, black again.  "What's your
story?" I think they've got a reflective coating, in red, didn't look
cybernetic.
   I shrugged, "I grew up pretty rich, but kind of a black sheep." they
looked at each other, back at me, "I didn't fit in." oh, they understood,
"So I started racing, and they cut me off except my trust fund." I waited,
but guessed they knew what those were.  "When I got in my accident, they
payed to fix me up, but when I went back to racing, they cut me off for
good."
   "Like me," Hiroshimaru nodded, "I was cast out for being who I am." Her
English was much better than Takae's.
   "What are you?" I wondered.
   She sighed, "Hiroshimaru means 'from Hiroshima', or around it," where
the atomic bombs were dropped, "We're from Nagisaki," she looked over at
her brother, "But it also means fallout family."
   "You're a mutant?" I think I understood.
   She nodded, "I was born not male, nor female, but in between.  I came
here, and Genevive found me, and mutated me, and fixed me."
   "She mutated you?" she nodded.
   "That's what she does."
   I looked over at Takae', this is how he was going to make it up to me?
Make me even more of a freak?  I turned, the door opened.  A woman ducked
in, her head to high for it, and I noticed she was barefoot.  "Takae?" she
gave him a hug, "Who's this?" She was beautifull, of course, I'd seen her
old ads, back in Bay City before the Natural Humanists drove her out.  She
didn't need models.
   "Bracha," he answered for me, "I think you can help her with something."
   I wasn't sure, tried to pull away, but she held my hand, "It's okay,"
sensing my fear, come with me.  She led me back into a greenhouse room,
full of fresh air, and green, and I relaxed, a little.
   Hiroshimaru
   I woke to an alarm in my head.  Not the normal one to wake me up in
time, it was still early, by my internal clock.  Blinking, I brought up
security while I slipped out of bed.  There were people out front, men,
from vans.  They moved to surround the building, and I ran, half dressed to
the armory.
   Genevive was there, opening a panel I didn't know about, stepping into a
small closet.  No clothes, I pulled on some armor.  "Those are illegal," I
pointed to the guns, "Forbidden."
   "Not to me," s/he smiled, and unfolded a long one.  "D'you know how to
shoot?"
   "Of course not," I never left Japan.  Other than some hunting peices,
muzzle loaders my family never took out of their cases from the Shogunate
days, I'd never seen one.
   "This is a shotgun," she folded it in half, bent 90 degrees, "Shells,"
s/he held one up, "Go in here," in the end, folded next to the handle, "It
will take four of these, and one in the chamber." S/he put one in the back
end of the barrel, and handed it to me.  "Break and straighten to re-load.
   I tried it, folding it open, then pulling it straight.  "It's got a wide
spread," s/he opened hir hands, in a cone of fingers, "So you shouldn't
miss, but don't point it at anyone you don't want to die." She picked up
another one, shorter, chunky, and unfolded it.  She put a box of bullets in
the middle, behind the trigger, and another in the bent metal peice, folded
back so s/he could put it to hir shoulder.
   I pulled on a vest, strapped it tight, and slipped a plate into it's
Pouch.  It had an animal logo, a Kangaru, from Australia, and was supposed
to stop bullets.  It flattened my chest, made me look like a man, but I'd
rather live like that, than die as a woman.  It had loops, on the sides,
and front, and I slipped a bunch of "shells" into them.
   S/he pulled the post on top of hir weapon, and screwed something on the
end.  Like a can, or metal bottle with a hole in the end, I followed hir.
"3K is on his way," s/he was already wearing armor, custom made for hir
long thin body, but it wasn't enough to make hir look like anything but a
beautifull woman.
   Others came, with guns, and other weapons behind us.  "I'll hold the
lab," she stayed in her green room, "Go out and see if you can hold them
until K shows up." I ran for the closest exit, the others splitting up, to
cover the others.  The door swung in, almost spilling a flood of gangsters,
and I lifted my gun.
   They had the spikey neon hair, tattoos, and clothes of sex-gangsters. 
Our competition, they seemed to have decided to cooperate against us,
judging by the mix of logos.  I closed my eyes, and squeezed the trigger.
In the tight hall, it sounded like a thunderclap, the fire flashing through
my lids, and I opened to see them retreating, a bloody body falling back,
blocking the door open.
   I stepped over him, bending my gun, and straightening it to load another
shell.  The body had a tonfa, so I picked that up too.  Outside, they where
spreading out, weapons ready, while I stood to block the door.  I looked
up, saw a Tengu, flying low, over the middle of the city, pursued by patrol
helicopters.  Like dragonflies, they swooped around the diamond plane-car,
trying to surround it, but it dodged, broke free.
   It turned, flipping over while dropping, and leveling out, lower, and
going the other way.  The copters stopped, hovered, and turned, but others
came in from all over the city.  They had machineguns, but dared not open
fire and cause a crash.  The gangsters looked up too, pointed as the Tengu
flew straight for us.  The canopy exploded, firing upward, and it came
down, crashing, skidding, right for the crowd of gangsters.
   "Iai!" they screamed, scattered, and something fell out of the sky. 
Black, turning, flapping like a ball wrapped in a sheet, it struck a group
of them, landing on top of one.  A blur, it moved, jumped, kicked, and
slashed out.  One of the Gangsters fell, cut in half, his Nagamaki chopped
clean through.
   Kevin stopped, Nigironin, bodys already piling up around him, gangsters
backing away, out of reach.  He had his sword out, in his left hand, and
two more, black blades, in his right.  Someone backed toward me, and I let
loose my gun, cracked it open for another round.  He stopped, fell to his
knees, then face, dead.  His back full of holes I hadn't the time to count.
   I swung my tonfa around, stepping into the battle.  All eyes on Knight,
more came out of the door to guard it.  I cracked one on the end, dropping
him, and shot over his falling body, wounding two behind him.  "Tznk!"
Knight decapitated someone behind me, arm folding high, two black diamond
wakizashi blades folding back, around his thumb, and hand.  Turning, his
shoulder struck mine, then the other.  "Tznk!" I could feel him swing
against my back, and fired again.
   He jerked behind me, the other shoulder, and a hand flew over my head.
It's fingers came open, dropping a knife in the air, and blood spattered my
hair.  I stepped out from him.  swinging my baton up from the ground,
between a gangster's legs, then followed through the re-bound, twisting to
spin it around into the back of his weapon arm.  He let go, clutched his
arm, and went down with a kick to the head.
   Backing to Ronin again, the night got bright, drowning out the
background glow from above.  Everyone stopped, looked up from the turbulent
wind, the storm thrown down by police helicopters, surrounding us, the
building, pepperbox machinegun barrels ready to mow us down.
   "Drop your weapons!" a loudspeaker broadcast from above, "and surrender
for arrest.  Beside me, the Saya hit my hip, it's blade returning home
behind me.  I dropped my gun, and baton, raised my hands, and put them on
top of my head.  Everyone did the same, but Knight didn't drop his sword,
never did.  I never saw him without it, or within reach.
   Knight
   Damn it, I felt naked without my Sword.  The first time in years,
decades since I got it.  It was not at my side, I didn't know where it was.
They cuffed me to a chair, electronic wrist clamps, and I tried to figure
out the release sequence.  I picked up the locking one, but it was
different, apparently random.
   A cop came in, bowed disrespectfully, and sat down.  "So," he said in
English, "you are the infamous Black Ronin."
   "I was," I nodded, "Once."
   "They say you Cyberserker," his English was good, lightly accented, with
few mistakes, "With new face."
   "Like I said," I spread my hands as much as I could, "that was a long
time ago." Technicly, I was in the project that created them, postumously
dubbed Cyberserkers in the Media, but I'm not one.  I survived the Atrocity
Wars because I didn't go berserk, rampage until they had to melt me down. I
was the only one.
   "So you admit," he stood up suddenly, jerkily, "That was you in Kyoto."
   "Hei." I bowed, disrespectfully, his caste lower than mine, and saw his
face tighten with anger, "When can I have my sword back?"
   "When you pay for your crimes!" he slapped his hand down, flat on the
table.
   "What?" I sneered, "Speeding?  Flying over restricted airspace?" I
realise he had a familiar accent, Kyoto.
   "Kyoto!" he leaned in, breath in my face.  I twisted, snapped the arm
off the chair, and pushed him back before he finished the seccond sylable.
   "Look," I stood up, yanked back my other arm, "I did you guys a favor in
Kyoto," I twisted the arms, bending the cuffs off of my armored skin, and
reinforced bones.  He stood back, astonished, terrified.  The door burst
open, more came in, tried to grab me.
   My blades extended automaticly, but I didn't take them, go all slice,
and dice in the police station.  More of a guard house, there is no
official police here, just defensive forces for the city, harbors, and
aerospace.  Bare handed, I ducked, sidestepped and elbowed a guy's head
into the fist of another.
   Someone grabbed my wrist, and I reversed it, twisting him, over my hip,
sweeping two more aside.  I grabbed two, and beat the rest of them with
them, sweeping them back, away from the door.  I slipped out, piling my
unwilling weapons in the way, blocking it as I made my way down the
corridor.
   More came out, with guns, and I snapped my thigh blades back out. 
Copies of my Wakisashi, the differences being 1) nonmetalic
diamond/nanofiliment composite, and 2) locking hubs for pommels, though I
didn't snap them together into shears.  My PASS kicked in, and I rode out
the seizure, twitching, and jerking at random while their shots went by.  I
advanced, sidestepping to break their aim, and disengage my PASS so I could
control myself.
   They retreated, firing as I kicked off the wall, to the other,
zig-zagging high, and low, off the floor, rolling across the ceiling to
come down on someone's armor.  I slashed, controlling my reflexes to stay
sub-lethal, chopping away guns, instead of through wrists, disarming them
as I waded through them, still firing.  I dropped, half flipping to roll
onto my shoulder, and spun out my legs to sweep the corridor.
   The "windmill" my blades were tucked along my forearms, though my
reflexes wouldn't allow me to cut myself even if the molecular edge could
get through my skin without shearing.  Flipping back to my feet, I twisted
my hands together, flipping one of the blades, and locking them together
around my thumb.  I stopped myself, just short of cutting one of them,
pinning his neck between the wall, and the floor.
   "Where is my sword?" I growled through my teeth.  Just my luck, I got
the one Cop in Tokyo who doesn't know Engrish, so I repeated it in his
language.
   He stuttered, hard enough to understand, but said something about
evidence.  I released him, long enough to flip over the shears, and wrap
the blunt edges around his neck.  The others stayed back, heads down, hands
up, empty.  I told him to show me, and took him hostage.
   It was a counter, with a scared looking man behind it.  "One Wakisashi,
please," I joked, "I haven't killed any one yet, but I will wipe out ever
last one of you, here and now if I don't get what is Mine!" He swallowed,
bowed his head, and ran off.  I stuck to the corner, my hostage blocking
the line of fire, and waited.
   "Thanks," I threw him across the room, and grabbed my shaking 'Saya. 
Tucking one of my blades away, I detached the other, and reached across to
slip it in my hip.  It retracted into my thigh, and my belt snapped back
onto my hip.  "Do mo ari gato," I bowed, respectfully, "You can keep the
gun." I kept it in my belt, hands empty, and just walked out.  Noone else
tried to stop me, most of them hid, terrified.  Damn, I was so close to a
massacre, blood up to my waist.  It was getting harder, and harder to
fight.
   Hiroshimaru
   They arrested me with the others, carried us off in the same Van, except
Ronin.  They took him alone, surrounded in the back of one of the
helicopters.  I didn't want to be with them, any of them.  I had surpassed
them, their dirty desperate caste.  We were prodded into cells, with
sliding glass doors, though I doubted it was glass.  As soon as my hands
were free, I tested it, tapped it with a nail.
   "You won't break it," plastic, maybe laminated with glass, of course, he
was right.
   "Excuse me?" I turned, and everone stepped back, clearing to the walls
between us.
   "You fooled them but I know who you are, what you are, your perverted
blood." He sneered, dismissively.
   "I'm sorry," I lied, "Are you somehow higher than me?" I stepped
foreward, and he stood up, still had to look up at me.
   "Hei," he bared his teeth, not a smile, "I'm human."
   "I'm better," I slapped him, and he put his hand up.  "Don't you forget
it!"
   The others came in grabbed me, and he straightened himself, his hair
before he hit me.  Thank the ancients the guards came, broke it up before I
got gang-raped.  They took us away, one by one, thankfully the lowborn scum
first.  I slapped his ass on the way out, and one of the guards pushed me
back, stun baton clicking, and flashing in front of my face.
   They had no place for me, us, so I stayed with the men.  They processed
us, moved us into the jail, one big room with two teirs of cells around the
walls.  Another clear panel slid shut with a loud click.  I looked around,
mostly gangsters, a lot of racers, and noone I recognised.
   The 'human' from holding was pushed in a little later, but I stayed
back, head down.  He looked around, saw someone, and recognised him.  They
chatted, caught up.  Great, this would be a hard time.  I got up, tried not
to be noticed, and went in the bathroom.  The only place without cameras,
and sensors, the only privacy, I ripped open the friction strips on my
clothe, and pissed in the urinal.
   "Hello," the most derisive greeting, I felt a hand at my neck, two more
on my arms.  They forced me back in the showers, threw me down to my knees.
The enemy, and his freind, they undid their clothes, pulled out their
Chinko, "At least you're good for something," he had a tattoo, many of them
up his body, but the logo of a rape gang, 'Kintaro' on his shaved belly,
above his fist.
   He hardened, bulged, "Take it off!" I pulled open the single suit, pants
with sleeves, and pulled it down around my waist.  "All the way," he pushed
it in my face, and I turned, glanced it off my cheek.
   "Open!" he slapped me with it, and I did, turning under to close my
teeth on his Kyusho, biting his balls until his freind hit me, hard,
tearing the Bukuro skin, spitting blood.
   "Hyai!" I punched up, missed, but slammed my elbow up under his legs. 
The other stepped back, clutching his self, bleeding through his fingers.
   "Omeko!" he kicked at me, but I blocked up, like Ronin taught me,
throwing him back, off ballance.  The other kicked me, in the side, and I
fell over.  My legs scissored, and I twisted, catching his knee, and heels,
throwing him off ballance.  The wounded one stomped down, on my chest, but
I rolled out of it, swung my hand back, blood splashing my wrist.
   "Yai!" he wailed, and went back again.  I kicked my feet under me before
the other could get up, followed through with a knee to his head, and
struck down, fingers curled under to my palm, smashing his head down into
the concrete.  Turning, I swept my heel back, missed, but axe punched under
the bottom of his ribs.  "Whuff!" he fell back against the wall, and I
jabbed my other palm up under his chin.
   He fell to his knees, head bashed on the wall, and I looked back at his
unconcious freind.  I grabbed the back of his head, forced him down into a
bow, and jerked down his collar.  I bound his hands, tore open the pants,
and grabbed his blood slick Bukuro, slathering his crack with it.  "At
least you're good for something!" I bit his ear, just an nip, and pressed
my Chinko against him.
   I had grown, larger than his, from when I saw It.  "No," he grunted as I
stabbed in.
   "Hei," I breathed in his ear, "Unchi Omanko," shit-pussy, an ass to
fuck, "O-bak," assless panties, "Momojiri," literally peach ass.  I kissed
his rough cheek.  "So tight," I breathed to him, "So soft, Kizumono." No
longer pure, virgin.
   He cried, sobbed as I raped him, speachless, unable to fight.  The
freind came to, wide eyed.  "Don't move," I warned him, "don't speak, or
you are next." I choked him, my ass bitch, then struck his head on the
floor until he stopped crying, struggling, "Iku," I filled him, "I ku!" I
pulled out, filthy, and turned to his freind.
   "Open!" I stood up, slapped him with it, left a brown stain on his
cheek. "Shiri o nuguu," clean up the shit.  He started to cry too, but
obeyed.  "Hei," I pushed in his mouth, "Okama Poku," you look gay, "Okama
Kusai" smell gay, "Hattenba" toilet, 'tea room', "Kantan" easy fuck.
   "Stay near," I pulled up my suit, and fastened it.  "I may want a
Pucon." Poking girl, not your girlfreind, or wife, but the one you know
only for sex.  I turned on the water, and left them.  I don't know how long
I can survive here without freinds, and already out-numbered by enemies.
   Genesan came for me, and the others arrested.  S/he payed off for the
weapons, and a lot more, but we had to leave, banished.
   Bracha
   I left my legs, jumped in the front seat after Genevive, and fired it up
as the canopy came down over us.  The door was open at the end of the
Garage, leading to the street ramp under the surface of the Sunshine
District.  I took the up-ramp, switching to rear view to watch the
clusterfuck behind us.
   "Damn, Keith," Genevive did an almost perfect imitation of the
Cyberserker, dropping in pitch to his deep baritone.
   The helicopters swept in, "You strapped down?" I called back, pulling
out, and connecting the quick release harness.
   "Yes," not a click, but I noticed the airspace was clearing as we taxied
out, between two buildings, already scaffolded together with layers of
connecting platforms.  I floored the engines, and brought up the wing
controls.
   "Hang on," we came to an interchange, on top of one of the buildings
below, and I hit the on-ramp for the upper deck.  We never made it, because
I hit the top fast enough for the front wheel to lift, and dropped the
wings.  Canted up, for downforce, they passed over the intake duct between
them to turn level.
   The air was sucked out between the wings, into the radial turbines,
spinning out, and expanding to a duct.  Disengaging the wheel turbines,
they vented back, for thrust, and we launched, illegaly into the air.  I
didn't level off to coast, but followed the slope out, down, away from
Fugi, and the disturbance attracting the defensive air force downtown.
   The wheel-engine housings popped up, through cutouts in the back edge of
the front wing, and leading edge of the rear one.  Even it's rotation
enhanced lift in foreward flight, just as it provides downforce when
configured for surface flight.  A helicopter came around a building, headed
for the battle, and ignored me, but I had to evade him.
   I banked, turned inside as he swung out, rotors spinning dangerously
close.  I flipped the wings again, dropped the wheels to skid sideways onto
the building.  Turning, I skidded upward, launched from the side, flipped
one of the wings, then the other to level out to flight again.
   I banked in, back on our original heading, and avoided higher buildings.
Leaving restricted airspace, I clicked on the broadcast receiver, and
checked the news on the way out.  "Where we headded?" 3K's flight in,
Immelman, entrance, then rampage played over, and over, slowed, and run
back by the commentaters.  Hiroshimaru managed to hang, pull hir weight
with a knightstick, and a shotgun.
   Genevive had one too, first I'd seen since the states.  Now, I'm not a
fighter, but the streats are the streets.  Hirs was like the purse-gun, a
folding SMG, but the one s/he had was silenced.  S/he never had to fire it,
so I'm not sure how good that muffler works, but it looked handy.  The way
it folded up, I could carry one anywhere.
   "Shikoku" where she had hir farm, where most of the plants in hir
greenhouse lab started.  It was overgrown, looked natural, but the plants
had been through hir "Guided Evolution." S/he'd been to work on me, offered
to replace my legs, but I didn't accept.  I let hir regrow the organs I'd
lost, though.  S/he injected me with a long needle, into my uterus, which
hadn't been damaged, but basicly walled off from the outside when they put
in the mount.
   It grew out from there, erupted from my navel, between my sternum, and
the top of the base mount.  Nothing much, I can just have sex again. 
Unfortunately, s/he didn't grow the farm with a strip, not even a road to
it, I had to coast to a surface effect hover, and land.  Takae showed me
this, but I still hadn't perfected it.  I managed to pull it off, 2x2, but
roughly, jerking us back, and forth in the cockpit.
   I disconnected, and Genevive got out of the cockpit, with hir folded
gun. S/he lifted me, I didn't even have a cap for my port, much less legs,
and carried me inside.  The farmhouse is wood, circular with a conical
ceiling, like a yurt.  The thing is, it's alive, looks like a copse of
trees from the outside.  S/he set me down on some roots, grown into a seat
shape, soft, and spongey like wood isn't.
   "Hungry?" s/he set hir gun down, and slipped off hir double breasted
coat.  S/he always walked around naked, the coat was for modesty in public,
and she'd add a skirt for warmth.
   "I'm fine," I don't eat much.  My heart was just slowing down.  S/he
walked to the living wall, bent to sniff a flower, then stood up, brushed
it between hir legs.  S/he was amazing, magical, I'd seen hir change color
since I'd known hir.  Hir hair was straight now, thick woody strands with
deep green hilights, especially when she was standing in the sun.  S/he
closed hir eyes, thoughtfully plucked a milkfruit, and sucked it dry.  "I
am a little horny," from the flight out here, the wall run, and Harrie
landing.
   Now, I'm not a lesbian, but Gene' isn't a woman.  She's a unique
creature, created by hirself for beauty.  I unhooked the bottom of my skuff
suit, and pulled it over me, off by the gloves.  S/he didn't say anything,
just turned, hir pink eyes sensitive to infrared down to blood temperature,
cock dropping out, hardening, standing out like an antenna.  I scooted
down, out on the roots, lifting my synthetic half clear.  I wished s/he had
an interface port, so I could connect to hir, feel that fantastic body the
way s/he does.
   S/he straddled me, spreading my lips with the tiny head without looking,
or holding it.  S'he sat down, resting hir terrific ass on the curve of my
housing.  S/he thrust in, spreading my belly, and holding it there, pumping
me full of pleasure in a steady stream.  I didn't pass out, like the first
time, but lay back, numb, and parylised, until it faded.  I got dressed,
and went out to where Takae' was comming in for a landing.
   "I saw what happened!" he shouted in his stilted 'Engrisi', and reached
behind him.  "My legs!" or the spares, he must have picked them up for me.
The old configuration, based on the Tinman Tripoid, it only has three
wheels, but the fork can swing back, and forth, front to back between the
side legs.
   I connected to the top, and hugged him.  No longer my boyfreind, you
tend to run out of novelty fast with as broad a connection we had.  He
bent, and I kissed him, though, familliarly.  He'd earned it.  These were
heavier, stronger but had better dirt wheels, a foot diameter, and nice
knobby tread.  He let go of my shoulders, so I extended them, fork in back
to rotate in place.  "Fully charged," I noticed, "Ardigato," I bowed, and
curtseyed, pulling uselessly at my legs.
   "Are you leaving?" he asked.
   "Your sister, and Keith got arrested," Genevive shook hir head, "So we
have to get them out."
   "I'll take you," he bowed, and stepped aside to let hir in his Tengu. 
One of them, a twin engine, like mine, but with a pilot-seat.  I rolled
inside to get out of the blast area, and he took back off, verticly, or
diagonally, transitioning to a climb.  I didn't know anyone else who could
even do that with that much weight, but he had the best twin-engine Tengu.
He's also driven for the Shogun-san of Mitzubishi Motor Group, or Keretzu.
   It was silver, coated to look like metal, shiny enough to follow a long
way.  I rolled back out, around, I hadn't been here much.  There were
others, new conversions living here until their growth was done.  All of
the buildings are made of trees, mixed foliage, in red maple, and dark
green, like Genevive's hair.  I didn't interact, most of the transexuals
are weird, except Genevive, s/he seemed normal that way.  From what I
understand, s/he was born intersex.
   Keith came back, skidding to a landing in yet another Tengu.  Single
seat, and engine, black like the one he crashed, it didn't have a mark on
it.  I rolled up to the villiage, saw the gouged marks from his near crash,
leading to his tires.  It was resting against a tree.  "Nice," I rolled up
behind him, and he turned, sideways to look through the lens on his temple.
   "Smart ass," he was still bloody, Blue 3/4 lenth trenchcoat dark in
patches, splashes like some morbid work of art.  He grabbed it, in both
hands, and I slipped my fork leg between his.  Now here was a man, he
couldn't have kids, but he sure could fuck.  I had to unhook to pull up my
suit, and he pulled it off.  He sat on the back wing of the plane-car,
still up from horizontal flight.
   I switched my legs, front to back, lowered to his level, and kissed the
hairy curls of his chest.  He set his sword down on the wing, but kept his
hand on it.  His other hand cupped my chest, my real, decent sized breast.
I opened his pants, spreading the fly, and brushing the flaps on his hips.
The ports for his thigh blades, he lifted his but to slide them down.
   I leaned forward, guided him in with both hands.  Long, he penetrated
deep, almost to my spine, but still had enough to keep a couple fingers
around.  His curly balls palmed in my hand, I squeezed them against him,
pushing him.  Back.  He dragged back out, and between us, we managed a
decent stroke.  He came, sterile inside me, but warm, pleasurable, I didn't
come again.  I helped him put his clothes back together, and I rolled over
to the waterfall.
   Disconnecting, I pulled a plug, and snapped it in before climbing down.
Not much higher than me, I didn't even have to get in the deep pool to wash
myself off, and out.  Then, I walked back to my legs, rolled back to the
planes, and got the tools out of mine.  The steering, and suspension in
Keith's was wrecked, and I hoped I didn't have to rebuild the whole thing
for it to fly again.
   Hiroshimaru (MT1/f Troi, Futa)
   I held myself in the back seat of the Tengu, not cold, but still
shivering from my ordeal in jail.  I hadn't been raped, but it was like the
young days, before I grew up.  It was worse, because of what I had become,
not physicly, but the shame of having raped, my face burned with it.  Yes,
they would have raped me, but it wasn't self defense.  There is no rape, or
be raped, I didn't have to.
   I cried, sick inside, perverted, Ecchi, filthy.  It wasn't the sodomy,
I'd done that before, had it done, received it.  It was the disgrace of
forcing yourself on someone, into them, like I had had done to me so many
times.  It wasn't sexy, it was twisted, evil, and I don't like to think of
myself like that.
   Instead, I thought about something more pleasent, sexual.  Not more
Futanari, half-halfs, but Hetero, a man, and woman, at the same time, the
best fantasy.  I am neither, not both, so it isn't Homosan, or Homocon, but
Hetero-Hybrid, the way Genesensei says it.
   Takai brought us in to a landing, the stud wired into the headrest of
his seat.  Strange, blatently inhuman unlike the wireless antenna.  Mine
allowed me to think, in radio-frequency, but nothing showed, I didn't have
to plug it in to charge it.  {Brother?} I sent through the cars antenna,
and through the back of his head.
   {Hei?} he thought back.
   {Are we almost there?} I asked.
   {Hei.} he showed me, switched to the external cameras, the light comming
on, the tops of trees flying under us.  I opened my eyes, overpowered the
visual feed with them.  Shaking my head, I cut the link.  We came in,
braking to a hover as if the wheels were down, touching something.  Sinking
slowly to the ground, the canopy opened, and I got out, rubbing my wrists.
   I could feel them healing, the soft tissue damage from the cuffs, and
bruises from the fights.  My first battle, Roninsensei said it was a good
one.  The two in the bathroom were remarcably easy, like tossing drunks in
a club.  A girl came up, "Lolisan," s/he returned my bow, "Have you seen
Roninsan?"
   "Hei," s/he turned, "He had sex with wheel legs," a planecar was hanging
by chain from a tree, the wheel, engine, and wings taken off that whole
side.  A log was propped under it as well.  "In there," s/he pointed to one
of the tree/huts, and I walked inside.  In blood temperature, I saw two
bodies, or one, and a half.
   She was turned backwardsway from him, like a yan\yin.  The back of his
head was on her bottom, connected to her by the interface port they shared.
I could see a cool spot in his thigh, the gentle arch of his leg blade.
   "Shlict!" the deadly sound of his cold steel blade leaving the polished
wooden Saya, and I saw it, to late, pressed against the inside of my thigh.
These pants were supposed to be cut-proof, but I knew that wouldn't stop
him if he followed through, doubted it would even slow him down.
   "Hiro'," his head didn't move.  Bracon let go, and flipped behind him.
Even in Infrared, his eyes are black, without reflection.
   "Sensei." I swallowed, and bowed, away from the chisel tip.  When I
raised my eyes, he was sitting up, silently, sword already sheathed in his
hands.
   "You've had enough blood," he wispered in Japanese, "Today."
   "Hiroshimaru?" the halfgirl rubbed her eye, then the other, propped on
her other hand.
   "Yes," I nodded to her, "I'm sorry."
   "It's okay," she held a hand up, "I've heard a lot about you." She
looked over at Ronin.  We met once, before she went with Genesensei, but I
never saw her since.
   He has lots of names, but Night, his last, actually means Ronin,
somehow, in his language.  I understand it is spelled differently, but I
don't know their letters, I never learned them, or anything beyond a few
Kanji.
   She seemed unashamed of her nudity, which is good around here.  I
crossed my legs, rolling to the sides of my feet, bending my knees to sit
down, inverted lotus.  Her eyes followed me down, watching my legs.  She
smiled, looking up at me.  Tiny, I understand she was in her late twenties,
but looked fifteen.  Her chest glowed, warmed around her good sized
breasts.
   She tapered down, like a man, but to no hips, instead of narrow ones. 
She had buttocks, round like hips that come all the way around to the
front. It looked strange, the bottom half of her, a few Joulles cooler, a
lighter metapink in my eyes.  A line heated up above it, spreading, her
mouth of sex opening, as if to take breath.  It was sideways, strange, and
alien, but novel.  Someone with a gender like mine appreciates something
truly unique.
   I can also recognise the signs of arousal, Ronin saw them too, turned to
me, flashed infrared, then back to her.  I nodded, knowing he could see me
in his side eye.  Ronin can see in Radar, sense incoming bullets, and move
automaticly to avoid him, what he calls "Pass." It means go beside, as I
understand Engrishi.
   I unhooked my pants, let them fall, the flaps of my shirt coming open
like wings.  My penis is outside, doesn't retract like some, so it hung,
but not for very long.  It stood up, proud, spreading my lips at the base,
and I felt sweat cool, evaporate between them.  She ran her hands up from
my knees, ballancing on her base, gripping my thighs, hips, pulling
foreward.
   Yeah, one thing Ronin, and my brother mentioned was she gives great
head. I mean phenominal, playfull, almost ticking while she held my thighs
in her strong hands.  She petted them, squeezed them.  She has strong arms,
to lift herself, with a loud kissing smack.  I brought my calves apart,
straddled her with my knees, held onto her chest, and bent foreward.  She
held me, guided me into her belly.
   Ronin ran his hands down my back, hips, and ass, spreading it to fill me
from behind.  "Hei," a tear rolled out, dropped from my cheek as my thorn
jerked in her.  The wool of his purse tickled my lips before he pulled
back, and I withdrew from her.  My thighs pressed into her breasts again,
as Ronin slapped that big black dick in again, smacking my ass with his
belly, making a sound you could hear.
   His hands ran up my sides, around to grip my breasts, dig his fingertips
into the muscle of my chest.  She felt my ass, gripped it pulled me into
her as Ronin stabbed into me.  "Hei!" I grunted it with each thrust, over
and over, pumping my fluid pleasure into her, milking it out of him.  I
came, over, and over, and had to pull out, stop before my heart died,
pumped it'self dry.  We slepped together, I held Ronin, his head pillowed
on my thigh, and he held Braka, her's on his arm.
   Knight (Ht Mt Herm Trans IR.)
   I hadn't slept with Hiro' in years, since s/he grew up, I guess you
could say.  Anyway, when I met hir, she was a physical teen, though I
understand she was in hir twenties.  After the demonstration on the street,
I was a little heated up, and hearing them fuck behind me didn't help.  I
could smell them, and turned my head to look through my side lens.
   She was on top, in hir lap, so I couldn't see Genevive.  They didn't
move, like one of those posters in the lower sex districts, but not
redacted.  I turned back to the road, the image captured, her tight young
body, the large clit, almost a penis, that isn't never attractive.  It was
still just a clit, just a big'ne.
   "Air traffic?" I leaned back to reconnect to the seat.
   "Hei," he paused, "Is Genevive Sensei onboard?" In this case, Sensei
means Dr..
   "Hei," I couldn't look back, or nod/bow, "And patient.  A VIP."
   "Clear on 267," he looked up, and cut the facial feed, I "Saw" the map
come up, and took the flashing exit.
   I love these cars, the engines revved up to the sides, and I cut power
to the wheels, accellerating on thrust alone.  I dropped the front wing,
parallel to the rear one, and took off into the sky.  Climbing, I pinged
back to Radar, returning their signal with telemetry, and heading data. 
Hitting autopilot, I unhooked, and turned to the passengers.
   I pulled back, Damn!  nearly said it.  Maybe this wouldn't be a boring
flight.  Just two of my eyes exposed, I watched the new girl Heroshi... 
get naked, and turn over to fuck Genevive.  I pulled out, and stroked
myself, watched her ass tighten, push into hir.  Yeah, a nice tail on that
one, round, not flat like most Asian women.
   She pulled back, up, and I could see Genevive's.  It dissappeared into
her, and I closed my eyes, could still see out the sides.  I caught what I
could, and bent over to whipe it on the floor.  Hirosi fell asleep, but
Genevive looked up, caught my eye, and winked hir blue one.
   I shook my head, fixed my pants, and leaned back to slot back in.  I
checked the internet, with the car's transceiver, the news, nothing
interesting.  I managed to not get bored as we came in for a landing, at
the farm.  Back before S/he had the lab, in Tokyo, it was flying distance.
   There were no buildings, just three clusters of trees I drove between,
dropping the engines to almost idyll, so they didn't suck in grass, or dirt
kicked up from our landing.  Not really designed for dirt roads, the Tengu
are pretty high maintenance.  Getting out, I showed Hiroshe' around, the
others, recruited from those s/he had found so far.  She nodded, pointed,
spoke mostly Japanese.
   It was a short tour back then, just the copses, branches grown together,
leaves overlapping to almost seal in the atmosphere, and keep the weather
out.  I showed her only the ground level of Genevive's, the main one, then
the smaller ones, mine last.  "Where do you sleep?" she asked, and I walked
her up the convenient flat branches, to the top "floor".  Woven live wood,
the bark, and branches were worn pretty smooth by our bare feet.
   She knelt, knees on my sleeping pad, and swiveled gracefully to sit. 
"Are you tired?" I remembered more conversation, but dreamed right past it.
   "Not really," I pulled my sword from my belt.  Setting it aside, I lay
down next to her.  Her legs were bare, long, and smooth.
   Her mouth was warm, moist, open, accepting, and responsive.  She kissed
a little too well, with skill you wouldn't expect, looking at her.  Her
eyes were closed, lenses printed on the lids, still, as if looking at me. I
felt up her thigh, the inside of the bottom one, and she lifted the other.
   She had little hair, a thick soft hill under it, a bulge, and I slipped
my hand away.  Up her smooth body, I felt her titty, small, and not even
that round.  It curved up, like a hollow ground blade to a point.  Hard,
and rounded, like a pebble, I pinched it, rolled it between my finger, and
thumb.
   She sighed, against my beard, kissed my neck.  Her hands busy between
us, she spread open my jeans, and stroked my underwear.  Hard, and longer
than her hand, she petted it, fingers straight around it.  Her eyes open,
black, warm in infrared.  She smiled, lips pulling tight on my neck, closed
over her teeth.
   I put my hand down, to her hip, turned her, and slid back up to her
chest.  Holding my hardon, I slipped it down between her cheeks, bumped
into her hard little nub, and rubbed my head back, to find the hole I'd
skipped over.  She wasn't tight, but clenched, over, and over as I fucked
into her.  I put my hand over her belly, felt the muscles work under the
smooth skin.
   "Hei," she said, over and over, comming, milking my nut out of me.  I
caught my breath, and held her, still twitching, sucking at my shrinking
dick.  I slipped out, and she rolled over, breathless.  Something dripped
down her leg, thick, and white.  Her soft dickling flopped over on her
belly.  The hair on it spread out, like butterfly wings, wavy, not curly,
with an arrow pointing to her belly button.
   I petted her pussy, the soft fur, and woke up.
   Bracha was next to me, warm, soft, I turned over to find Her. 
Hiroshimaru, as if she'd grown instantly next to me.  Like her, I was
miraculously hard, let it fall, like a timber against her thigh.  She
hardened too, opened her eyes, wider than before.
   All the changes I'd seen over the weeks at the farm, her broad body,
tight whipchord muscle, and dick growth all at once, here was Genevive's
finished product.  Almost too masculine, it would have been too much if I
didn't already love her.  She'd grown from me too, from the scared Loli/san
I met into the proud honorable warrior in my arms, and mouth.
   She'd done so well, in her first battle.  I trusted her with my back,
and she'd covered it.  Heating up against me, at least she had decent tits
now.  Full, round, and hard, like the rest of her, you'd almost think they
were implants, instead of artificialy grown that way.
   She smiled, curled up, and stretched out.  She bent to kiss me, lips
pulling apart to suck me in.  Too tall to eat out like this any more, "her"
dick was right there in my face.  She earned it, not my thing, but she
loved it, always wanted me to do it.  She tasted salty, sweaty, but girly
enough, I guess, like her pussy.  I tried not to gag, though she didn't
push it in, and I just kept it against my tongue.
   It was triangular, like the tip.  For some reason, I thought of my old
Sensei's cane sword.  Gauche, the fencing gangster, it was like a rapier
blade, but three hollow ground edges, tapering to a point.  Her dick was
softer, woody flesh, and had a pulse against my tongue.  It twitched,
pulsed, and I tasted the strangest flavor.
   "Iku," she said, breathlessly, and swallowed me again.  It shot out,
steady, but thick.  It tasted funny, like her pussy juice, but creamy,
tangy.  It was a whole lot of flavors mixing together on my tongue.  I was
reminded of bananas, and the paste we had in grade school.
   It filled my mouth, so I swallowed it, warm in my stomach.  I could feel
where it was, like I was full, but I didn't drink near enough.  It felt
like it traveled out, to my heart, then down.  I felt the pulse in my
thighs, the bone of my belly, around the root of my hardon, my balls. 
Damn, they felt like they's on fire!  I busted, all up in her face, and she
gulped it down.
  
The Wheel Deal (Mf Cybr, Anal, Ampu)