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There Aint No Justice 079
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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #79 |
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To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...
by Tal Meta
Flying.
Skimming along the streets, maybe eight or nine feet in the air. Houses slide
by, darkness still lurking within them. The world is asleep, and so am I.
Out of the corner of one eye, I spot a flash of white, as it leaps a hedge
and hides behind the corner of a house. I stop, hovering in midair, to watch.
My attention thus diverted, I barely notice in time the second flash of white
coming up on my blind side, and I sense something vaguely feline in its form
as I quickly turn and regard the threat.
Power leaps from my fingertips, blasting the creature so unwise as to hunt
me. It is (was) a white bengal tiger. It's mate fixes me with a feral stare,
as it leaps over someones stack of garbage cans and slowly pads in my
direction.
Its body is sleek, beautiful and deadly. But its not enough. I cast my will
upon its form and change it... its body becomes sleeker still, its gait
becomes bipedal. Its forepaws lengthen into true hands, with claws still
attached. The eight tiny nipples lining its belly migrate upwards, melding
into four graceful, humanlike breasts. I change the shape of its skull
slightly, lengthening the hair on its head, until it is something half
tigress, half human.
Finally, I change its hunger, and it smiles at me with a come-hither smile.
She glides into my embrace, the soft fur of her body tickling mine. Her claws
draw tiny red lines upon my back as I entwine my tongue with hers, my hands
cupping her wonderfully silky breasts. I take a step back from her for a
moment, and she frowns.
With my left hand I reach for something in midair, and grasp *something*. The
street behind us peels away to reveal sumptuous bedroom, and with a grin she
leaps past me to the bed. I join her there, and begin to nuzzle her neck, and
discover I haven't hands enough to fondle all her breasts at once.
Sitting up for a moment, I flex my body like _so_ , and another pair of arms
slowly form beneath my own. In seconds, I have hands enough for the task, and
proceed to seduce my tigress.
As we lie entwined upon the satin sheets, she nibbles my ear, drops of blood
spotting the pillow beside her head. Her claws rake my back as I plunge
myself deeper and deeper within her, until at last we both climax
explosively. I watch her as she dozes, and I smile to myself.
The bed and my lover fade away. I draw my lower arms back within myself, and
flex my back, and feel the wings draw themselves apart from my flesh. They
finally pull themselves free, and with one mighty burst, I am airborne.
The scene has changed. Dark spires of rock surround me now, and I can feel
the bite of the wind on my pinions. The wind is no longer merely a force
against me, it is a living entity. I feel it flow against me, and I can sense
its updrafts. I catch one and let it bear me high above the spires. In the
distance, I can see the desert to my left, and higher, proper mountains to my
right. I choose the mountains.
I soar over the final peak to find a deep crevase spread out before me.
Within its depths is the movement of people, and animals, and carts. I allow
myself to drop down into the canyon, and I look at the wonders of this new
place.
The people are of every hue. Brilliant blues, irridescant oranges, ebony,
bone and every other shade you could name. Their clothing seems designed more
for decoration than protection or warmth: some wear nothing more than
breechcloths. My own skin has become the color of varnished mahagony,
complete with lines of grain. My wings, once leathery and plain are now
feathered in a riot of colors, some of which seem to change and run together
as they move. I spy before me, perched up high on one of the cliffs, what
resembles a great archway flanked by two statues that I know instinctively
resemble myself. A flick of my wings and I am there, alighting upon the
stone.
I walk within the torchlit chamber. At the back of the room, stairs wind
downward into the stone. I set my hand upon the banister and begin the long
climb downwards. As I take each step, the texture of the air around me
changes. First it is hot, then it is cold, and sometimes it feels almost as
if it were made of a million raindrops, and at yet others it has the harsh
texture of sandpaper.
I notice that I, too, have been changing. My wings are gone, replaced by a
long silken robe of many colors. I watch as this, too, changes, becoming
clothing better suited to the waking world, not this mountain temple i had
entered. The stairs finally level out and I find myself grasping a backpack,
dressed in '90s casual clothes, caught in a press of people exiting some
large building.
I am walking along a slightly elevated street, approaching a bus stop with my
fiancee. We step down off the sidewalk and take our places upon the benches
there. To my left, I spot an old girlfriend, one I have not seen in years.
She hasn't seen me yet, though. I close my eyes and stretch myself, reaching
out with my mind to gently touch hers, as we used to be able to do.... I feel
her glance my way, and I tremble with her at the shock of her recognition.
She speaks my name... or what was my name, years ago. I slowly open one eye
and look her way, finally allowing a smile to cross my face. I speak her
name, and it echoes in my ears with the sound of twarted desires, and a
mixture of memories, both good and bad.
I turn to my fiancee, and introduce her to my old flame, and watch as she
changes into the half-human half-tigress creature I had loved earlier. As she
moves past me, i see that my old flame, too, has changed. Her centauroid form
seems carven from a single piece of silver, and in her hands she weilds a
staff. They fight, there upon the concrete, as the background slowly melts to
that of an ancient coliseum, where ghostly citizens cheer and throw flowers
upon the field.
The shape of the coliseum draws itself about me, becoming more oval in shape.
The stone softens, takes on grain, becomes wood. Soon I stand upon the decks
of a massive sailing ship. I walk to the port side rail, and see endlessly
stretching desert sands. I walk to the bow, and there upon the sand I see a
thousand sweating backs, all pulling in unison to draw the ship across the
wastes.
Time passes. A large dark shape appears in the distance ahead, which slowly
comes into focus, revealing itself to be a giant head. The multitude who bore
my ship across the sands drop their towlines, and with much chanting, stride
one after another into the open mouth. When the last of them has been
devoured, the head turns its eyes to meet my own, and speaks a single word, a
word which echoes in my ears, filling my mind, blotting out all other
thought, reverberating, becoming faintly familiar, then changing tone to
become...
The alarm. I sit up in my bed, the grey light of dawn creeping into my room.
Another day in hell begins...
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