Friday, February 1, 2013

Tiny Isle Quest 2, A Timeforce 10 Adventure

(( This story is adult themed, MC, TF, NC, SF, PO, FE ))



The Commander walked circles around the strange object as I slipped the dry, warm cotton jeans up over my bikini, sure that once the swimsuit made my wool blend sweater wet, it would be even smaller and tighter than it was now, and be ruined- it was my favorite! Guess I will just have to make the most of the time it has left,  yes?
   The metallic dome hummed and hissed, spinning  clockwise slowly, fitted so tightly to the base even one of my hairs would not fit in the gap. It looked like brass, very thick brass, but it acted like no metal I knew of, more like well, something synthetic. The Commander  sat in the hot humid sun, under those trees, and I sat quietly beside him, only one time did I get on the rotating alien machine and ride it like a merry-go-round, which you must admit, for someone like me, is a respectable act of self control.


   “Miss Charisma,” He finally said, looking around as if the words he sought were bees flying about him. “Bit of a error, rushing things I suppose, ghastly heat I shouldn’t wonder.”
   It is possible that dolls are made specifically to like those they will be asked to please, those who may one day find them, purchase them, play with them and relate with them. Perhaps it is just a Victorian perspective which I seem to have had since my creation,  but whatever reason: I do find I like this one, this Commander Fanshaw.  So dedicated to his work, so proper, such a pleasant disposition and accent. Why is it we like things we like? Sentience is so obscure and amorphous; it is easy to evaluate why your heart is racing, or why your tummy aches, but evaluate why you like the look of the night sky more than mid day, why you like the feel of warm cotton clothing than clunky furs and animal skins,  or one cologne over another?  It is a good thing I seem created to enjoy such puzzles, it seems the chief secretary for Timeforce 10 is called upon to do a great many puzzles! 
   “The glyphs from the cave wall seem to point toward a “wood maker,” or carpenter,, we shall just jaunt back to the deserted village, shall we?”
   I put out the small can of Sterno fire and washed the tea pot and cups. One  rises to the level of their peers, and if he was determined to work 20 hours without sleep, I was determined to ensure midday tea was prompt and proper!





   Lord Fanshaw raced over the rickety wood boards and driftwood planks, and I shouted after him that I should be the one doing such, his large frame made the old sun bleached wood creak and moan. He insisted however that I ride the abandoned dinghy over to the main island. My goodness Diary,  they have a special sort of sun and heat here, such as Cape Wrath in Northern Caledon never sees!

   We once again swung over limbs and crawled into tiny rooms, searching for clues to some  woodworker.
   I put my best foot forward,,, and it sunk straight through the roof of a tree hut and lodged deeply into a splitter saw!




No, really, a very nasty table saw! I screamed! Well, you can imagine, terrified!





Footsteps grew nearer and louder as the Commander raced to my shouting voice.
   “Hmm, good work, we shall have to look into adding to your classification, and designate you an official Timeforce 10 Agent, as well as Service and Support Branch.”
   “Thank you Sir! That is an honor!” I was grateful, and smiled the best one could, I think, with their legs pinched in a table saw. A moment later the boss had me freed and was remarking about the broken globes on the table, and a scrawled writing on a very odd animal pelt. My best investigations on the pelt were that it was not of an animal that was indigenous to this deserted isle, while he seemed far more interested in the word. We both took samples of the globes however, though I let him put the skull in his backpack.





   “Sir, what could the meaning be, of the word, the skull, more broken globes?”
   He once again removed the small, expensive case from his jacket pocket, taking one of the tightly rolled tobacco sleeves and igniting its tip, the other held in his lips. A few slow inhalations later,  he remarked, “Quite the conundrum,  clearly there is a connection between the skull and the globe, , it is late, dark soon, but rather than pitch camp, let’s race back to the  dome isle, shall we?” His commitment to the ‘wind-up’ as it were,  the solution, was enough to make one forget the beads of perspiration rolling down their face.






   “I shall race you then! Last one out of this tree and across the lagoon is a tortoise!” Some people would laugh at that moment,  but the Commander showed only a flash of mirth in his eye, then streaked out the door!
   I was sure to win this one! I was confident, dexterous,  slimmer of build,,




Heavier.




The branch which he ran across nimbly, instantly shattered and I explained that to him as he walked up, my body well smooshed into the baking hot sand.

  “Thum Brumch bwoke mumphur mum Feet,,”
“Indeed.” I have a boss Diary that can say volumes with one word.  But is that a good thing?



I pulled my body out of the deep  Wendy print in the sand while he hurried on, the contest resumed! He swam across easily, and I did my best this time not to walk along the silty floor but to swim as he did. It was nearly impossible though and I became convinced of a rather obvious deduction.
“Sir,” I quietly approached  him in a private conversation, not at all proper but perhaps Agents are allowed.
   “Yes?” He helped me out of the water and smiled.
   “Am I fat?”
   He looked as if he had just swallowed a piece of seaweed, and stammered about.
   “I um, I wouldn’t err,  I wouldn’t say fat, no..”
   “Great girthed? Bulky? Stocky? Large? Would you say it is more precise to say I am obese?” I awaited his analysis, but instead of concise evaluation, Lord Fanshaw  repelled from me a meter or so, and lit another of his cigarettes, scratching his head .
He never did answer, but minutes later, he looked up from his deep consternation and held out the metal case.
   “Cigarette?”



   “I um, Sir,, I,,, of course I would be delighted to join you in the smoke inhaling ritual but, well, ,,”






   He nodded and shook the container, and I rather quickly took the light delicate thing in my fingers, examining how he held it, to mirror his action.






A deep inhalation closed off several baffles in my aeration circuit and the sinal olfactory chambers swelled. My mouth was full of burning leaves.





   “Good huh?”
   I smiled weakly,  holding my chin up and my lunch down.





   Sir,, do agents or secretaries have to often engage in the smoke sucking?”
   This time he did laugh, and explained in a calm, and polite manner. First he talked about how we must fit in, regardless of the time era, and scowled slightly at my clothing. Though It is true, I was not dressed for the 1940's, it is also true I was on a deserted island! If a bear falls in the woods, is it wearing gabberdeen? 
   Then he said, “The ritual, as you say is a social bonding, sharing a cigarette endears people to you, gets their defenses down so you can pry them for what you need to know; it appears as confidence and innocence  if done properly, and many societies across many time eras accept these social constructs. To be a good Agent, you should learn how to smoke, how to look as you smoke, and use it as I do, it is as a tool.”
  I nodded, “Kinda like children and dolls? Both toy and learning tool?”  The Commander seemed like I had opened his mind to a new avenue of thought and I was pleased.
   “Not sure really, never had much in the way of dolls, G.I. Joes perhaps but, “ and I cut him off by offering a chance for him to learn what nearly every child knows.
   “Oh! Well if you want to play with, um,, if you are um, if you  think um,, you  would,,, um,,, the night sky is very pleasant here, is it not?”
I was suddenly feeling like regurgitating not only my tea but the last several minutes of my sentience. It is interesting how a great idea in the mind becomes a bad one on the lips, yes?
  He seemed deep in thought, as usual, and then said,




   “Now, Miss Charisma, shall we test this word on the dome?”





Morgawr!


    I gasped, and since the cigarette was dried to my lips, lodged within my mouth, I choked on a large volume of the fume! The cloud dissipated rapidly in the tropical evening breeze and when I could see without blinking,, there it was!



Within the aged brass capsule was a globe! Bright and glowing, with a color that seemed green, or blue, sometimes purple, but mostly green. The air became filled with static electricity and I was pleased I had thought to pull my hair back.  The orb had the same essence, glowing tendrils that flowed around it, that I saw in the cave, just before the um, just before I dreamed  of loincloths and maps on undersea cave walls. I was instantly filled with hesitancy, but the Commander was not.
   “Well then, lift it out of there Miss, let’s have a look at it.”




The smoky tendrils flicked about my head and around my arms as I gingerly held it. The orb was slippery it seemed, unnaturally so. I could scarcely hold it, and was quick to rest it on my knee. The same bizarre smell that was in the cave by that orb, rose from this one- like a Tesla coil in a rainstorm. 


What seemed like a few wisps about my arms was now so many  tendrils of plasma that it appeared  as one large glowing mass which nearly solidified, constricting about me,, and then..



Hopped up onto my head, silly thing!  I was not frightened, in fact I rarely am. I could almost make out a voice, an electron hum of thought which reminded me almost of a similar voice, in that cave, if only I could recall! It said;
HOST IS NOT OCCUPIED AS THE OTHERS AND FREE FOR HABITATION
“Free for,, Get this off of me!”
INITIATING
 


Well I did not like the sound of that at all, and in my most polite voice I spoke out, to admonish the voice without being too rude. I spoke however  without my lips, just within my head, saying,
   “Host contacted.”






SYMBIOSIS INSEMINATION BEGUN,  THIS THOUGHT HOST AND BODY PLEASES US AND WILL SERVE US WELL.  SO MUCH TO LEARN, SO MUCH TO TEACH.”
Teach?
PATHWAYS CONSTRUCTED, MEMORY CORE LOCATED,
It did not take a genius to see this was not going well, so in my sternest internal voice I scolded this beautiful being, saying:
 “All files copied, download complete. Teach?”


As if in reply, I heard the Commander’s voice again in my internal ears,
social bonding, sharing a cigarette endears … to you, …their defenses down… so you can pry them… what you need...  if done properly…  accept these social constructs. … be a good Agent, you should learn how to smoke, how to look… as a tool.”
Without saying a word, I realized what it had taught me, and an inner heat boiled from everywhere and nowhere, suddenly I was steamy and shaking all over. My brain felt melted like butter in the tropical sun. It was clear that I was a tool just like smoking, and It was his desire to use me, to pry me, to endear me,  to have my defenses down. An unexplainable relaxation melted my tense muscles, making it difficult to focus, but I hung on to the fact that this did not sound somehow correct and I made sure the supra-intelligent being with the gorgeous voice was aware of their error, stating, 

“Defenses down, I accept symbiotic insemination.”





We do not recall what happened then for several minutes but we are sure that we must have upset the being, because when we looked around, and listened inside, it was clearly gone. There was a strange muffled feeling in the ears, the eyes, and the cortex,  also a giggly feeling but it seems to be an anomaly.




“Are you alright Miss Charisma? Wendy?” The Officer ‘s voice wavered as he queried and we were sure his emotions were heightened , his pheromone count was tripled and blood pressure easily 10 points higher.  We tried to reassure him of course, any good secretary, or agent would, would they not?
  “We were frightened by the orb for a moment, but it does not scare us now, we are fine.”




   “Mmhmm, well let’s get that thing off of you,, I think we should take this orb, the things inside the great brass dome, and play a bit at my laboratory.”




“This is not about my  playing thing earlier  is it?” His eyes looked befuddled and my mouth exploded in a tirade of unintelligible phoneticisms:
   “Because I would never mean to harm my work environment over the relationships or I mean the relating or no, when I said playing with me or no did I say that? No of course not because um, when you said you had not, I did not mean that in the shanty alley meaning of the term, playing with dolls is um I mean many of my friends are, I mean well, all of them actually but you, I mean we, it isn’t,  is,, um,,”
He lit another cigarette and scratched his head, and I sensed the muffled silence in my head pop like stuffed ears after a high balloon flight, feeling somewhat clearer headed by the time he spoke.

“Everything is fine, just plenty of testing to do, routine sort of thing, you understand. Contact with strange items,, simple testing, not to be alarmed.” His smile was as plastic and fake as Barbie’s,  but his heart was worried for us, nervous and pounding hard and fast within his nearly bared chest, glistening in the romantic moon.  We were sure what needed to happen now, clearly. In times of great distress and worry, hugging always makes it better. Ask any doll they will tell you, that’s when they get the most hugs.






   “Thank you Sir,” our voice crackled, hands digging into the tough and smooth leather jacket of his. The pleasant fragrance of the island flowers mingled with his leather and tanning oil, mm we love fine oil, have we ever mentioned that? Hmm, maybe not.  Anyways, we rested our chin on his shoulder and inhaled his amazing cologne, mixed with his body fragrance, and with our chest pressed hard against his, we are sure he sensed our heart jump! Worried, we clung against his virile form as shivers  twitched  muscles, and our overheated skin and muscles  noted an aching, the oddly pleasurable discomfort begun in our lowest belly and spread like this moist humid island air, down our thighs and up into our chest. We had no idea why we felt these things, and kinda felt like it was improperbut were sure we would soon learn,, and share,, and teach.


 


“Thank you,, Cornelius.”




 To be Continued ....


1 comment:

  1. Well documented Miss Charisma, though I am a little surprised to find this mission already declassified!
    However seeing as the cat is out of the bag so to speak the readers might be interested to know the location...
    http://slurl.com/secondlife/Intrepide/189/136/22/
    One of LL's little known gems, a public island with it's own little mystery adventure and even a spot to rez boats

    ReplyDelete