Volume 3 will eventually come out, where the main characters from volume 1 and 2 meet up. It must be mentioned that I don't plan to write v3 for a few years.
I hope you enjoy my crazy in the moment writing with all of the strange ideas.
Feel free to request a chapter written with an adventure, either for volume 1, or volume 2.
Thank you for reading.
Streaks of light streams by, accompanied by the stillness of the big and empty void.
I can see Earth up ahead, the one says to the other.
Ever-changing colours of light showers past as they hurtle onwards towards the Milky Way Galaxy.
Yes. I can see it now. Was hidden behind the Andromeda Galaxy for a second. That reminds me, we still need to stop over there to see if they have progressed since our last visit.
Having seen Earth has me eager. Our friends in Andromeda can wait.
Silence. There is always a silence between worlds. No sound to occupy oneself, not that this bothered either of them. It comforts them knowing they are travelling - exploring the universe.
Have you found your Keuse yet?
There is a deep, dark coldness surrounding them. Their only company is each other and their thoughts to one another.
Yes. I have just spotted her.
Andromeda looms to their right. Shining silent lights towards the corners of the universe, as if in rejoice.
You have chosen a female. That makes my choice easier.
A cold, uneventful moment passed as they leave Andromeda behind, its colour shifting more towards red.
I found my Keuse. He will definitely be a challenge. I may need to hide myself from him.
A 'challenge', you say?
The Milky Way, now a short distance away, glows faintly in anticipation - or so it seems to them.
Time to slow down. A brief pause. Then, just outside Earth's solar system, Prepare the backup. I will contact Home.
It is done. Does this mean we will really give full access to them?
Unless you want to add any specific rules, then yes.
No. Other than the BasRu in place, I want to see what happens.
It is time.
The silence changed into noise as they enter Earth's atmosphere, each going their own way.
Chapter 1 - Bad Luck
The evening was cold, a biting wind rushing down the streets and into the alley. A man was huddled behind a dumpster, his patchy coat pulled tight. His eyes were closed, but the grimace on his face grew with every gush of the wind.
Growling, clearly his stomach demanding food; it could be heard by the homeless sleeping down-wind from him. He could handle the hunger, he was used to it, but starving in this cold was too much for him.
He shifted his weight, trying to find a warmer spot, but to no avail. With a grunt, Flin stood up, pulling his coat tighter, and limped down the alley in hope of finding a place out of the cold.
It is extremely unusual for it to be this cold during summer, so most of the homeless have not prepared to fight the cold. Flin was one of them. He felt bad luck followed him his whole life, the most recent of which landed him homeless, disgraced, and hungry.
He walked lopsided, an injury from youth. He blamed that on bad luck, as much as everything else. His coat barely hid the bite of the wind, especially at his sides where there are more holes than cloth.
Terrible wails could be heard where the wind escaped the alley ahead of him. The hunger gnawed at him, demanding attention as if it did not care if the rest of the body was cold. His hunger grew and grew, wanting energy to burn to make heat - maybe there would be enough left to make fat for insulation.
This cold night is a bad omen. A reminder that my bad luck has not run out. He shook his head and noticed he had walked farther than he planned, the howling alley behind him and on the other side of the street. Shrugging his coat over his ears, he walked down the street.
No matter where he went, Flin found no warmth. He passed five teenagers returning from partying and they gave him a wide berth, eyeing with what seemed to be disgust mixed with pity. He looked at their fine clothes and cussed, maybe too loudly. They quickened their step, silently trying to go their own way.
His awkward walk, somewhat like how a zombie would walk, added to his look. He was not an ugly man - he could be considered handsome if luck favoured him - but he hasn't shaved in months, let alone bathed. His clothes reeked of the dead, which is probably from the rotting rat he found in it when he discovered the coat.
His eyes were pale blue, dulled thanks to the hardship of his life. His hair was brown, with a hint of maroon when the light hit it just right. As far as complexion went, he could not remember what he looked like under the dirt. He was taller than average, though his limp made him seem less than he is. He has managed to find enough to eat to remain in somewhat decent shape. Of late, though, some of the muscles he used to have have started being eaten away by his own body during the days he went without food.
He reached a junction in the road and, by the looks of it in the moonlight, there is a ditch on the other side. Hoping some of his bad luck forgot about him, he slowly made his way to the ditch. There were no cars as he crossed the road and he was thankful. A sudden weariness took him and, without warning, a blinding light surrounded him. Before he could cry in alarm, his mind went blank and he fell into the ditch.
The night grew even colder and snow started falling, an infinite number of unique flakes fell and covered the town. People not indoors ran for home, those who thought to stay out and play soon decided it was not worth it.
But the night grew still. The wind died and the snow had ceased falling, but the townsmen knew there was change coming.
Chapter 2 - Sunday Roast
Flin awoke with a start and sat up, spilling the blankets that covered him. Looking around with quick darts, he saw he was in a room, a small room, but a room. The plastered walls were smooth and clean, with little swirling lines in light blue over the cream background.
The contents of the room were sparse, but of high quality. In the opposite corner from where his double bed stood, was a simple and elegant desk. A small shelf was nailed to the wall above the desk, on which stood a few books of different topics. Tucked under the desk was a wooden stool made from the same high quality wood as the desk, just as elegant, and varnished with an even layer of some glossy substance. Next to the bed was a small desk of drawers, a lamp with a smooth wooden base on top, and a jug of water. Adjacent to the small desk was a big, beautiful wardrobe.
When his eyes came back to his bed, he noticed even the frame was made of the same wood, just as wonderfully made. The sheets and the duvet bespoke of wealth and the furniture in the room suggested specially made. It all had a purpose and it all was made to accomplish that purpose in beauty.
The window on the opposite wall from him, next to the desk, shwooo'd softly and his skin prickled. He inspected himself and, for the first time, realised he was naked. More importantly, he was clean - cleaner than he had been in a long, long time. He was still hungry, but not as hungry as before... before what? What happened to me?
He got out of bed and stood up. He put one leg forward - his bad leg - then tripped himself and fell with a thump on the carpet. What the bloody hell?! he thought as he pushed himself back up to stand.
He looked down, lifted his bad leg, then his right leg. Confusion flashed on his face, followed by a quick jump. He landed with a thump. He looked around, disbelieving, then focussed on taking a step.
One step, then two, then three. Everything felt off balance, but it felt right. He was walking normally - the first time since he was six years old. He walked in circles a few times, then decided to find out where he was and what happened to him.
He grabbed the bedsheet, threw it across his shoulders and wrapped it around his waist. It took him 5 long, even steps to reach the door. Even the door handle was made of wood, two thin bevels running the circumference of it. Twisting, he pulled the door inwards, then stepped out into a hallway. Opposite was another door, well made and wooden. To his left was a dead end, so he turned right and found stairs leading down, curving to the left
His steps had a spring to it. He tried out different ways of stepping and marvelled at his new dexterity. The linen bed sheet covered him well, the excess trailed behind him on the steps he left behind.
The smell of roasted chicken and roasted vegetables beckoned him and he hastened his descent. At the bottom he encountered another hallway, though this one is bigger and longer. To his left was the front door, wooden with windows worked into it, and opposite was a doorway to what seemed to be the living room. A doorway further down led to the same room. He walked down the hall, wanting to run. Walking never felt this good, he thought, and I don't think I'd want to stand still soon.
The end of the hallway opened to the kitchen, evident by the looks of the tabletop and the long cupboards visible through the doorway. He stopped and peered into the room to his right. The aroma from the roast came from here. The dining room, he realised. The room was furnished with the same style as the rest of the house, and as eloquent. Wooden candelabra, two on each wall, were fitted with small, flame shaped light bulbs. In the centre was a big table with chairs to match.
What caught Flin's eyes first, though, was a young woman sat in one of the eight chairs, her back almost fully facing him. He could not get a good look at her, but he already thought she was beautiful. She wore a knee length black skirt, hugging her thighs. He could see a white vest top under the white blouse she wore.
Then he noticed the food. There were two plates, the second opposite her own place at the table, both filled with food, and two glasses with what appeared to be white wine. Somehow, he knew there was no one else in the house. Not knowing what else to do, he cleared his throat and said hello.
The girl turned around, not surprised at all. She is young, he could see, and beautiful. Her brown eyes lit up as she smiled when she saw him, then her eyes flicked over what he was wearing. She frowned, then quickly replaced it with a smile and said, "Good evening, sleepy head. How are you feeling?" He could sense she really cared what his answer would be.
She frowned again when he didn't reply quickly, so he looked down at his feet. "I... I feel well," he lifted his left leg with ease, "Great, actually." He looked up, seeing her dark hair shining in the light from the various windows. She really is beautiful. Her full, red lips curved into a smile, but he thought she didn't quite understand him.
"My leg, well, it never worked the way I wanted it to since I was six. Now," he lifted it again, "now it is working the way it should. Though, I forgot how to use this leg normally a long time ago, so it feels wrong." He laughed at the irony.
She had a puzzled look, said something about how it must be a miracle, then stood up and said, "My name is Gina." She reached out her hand and he shook it.
Bloody hell, her hands are so smooth. "Hello, Gina. I'm Flin. What happened?" Reluctantly, he let go of her hand. She was about a head shorter than him, with wide hips and a narrow waist. Her bust was maybe a D-cup, or a full C-cup. Her skin pale, but not ghostly.
"I can only tell you what happened after I found you, I'm afraid. I was walking back from the shop yesterday morning when I found you in a ditch. It was snowing the previous night and it was thawing out already. Your nose and an arm was poking out through the snow." She shivered, then continued with sadness in her voice, "You were freezing cold, but still alive. You were at the bottom of the ditch and must have been there since the snow started falling. I don't know how you survived. It snowed five feet deep everywhere in town." Her eyes drifted away in thought, then came back to meet his own eyes.
"Did you bring me here? Why?" He wasn't used to kindness - his bad luck never allowed it.
"Yes. Well, no." She looked him up and down again, then said, "Come, please, sit down. I've made enough for us both. I was going to take it to you if you didn't come down before I finished." She gestured to the seat opposite her and he gladly accepted her offer.
Flin tucked in an end of the bed sheet to keep it in place and sat down. Gina continued talking, "When I found you, I called my brother to help me get you out and bring you here - he wanted to take you to a hospital, but I persuaded him otherwise. You only needed a roof over your head, a warm bed, my gran's recipe and my cooking."
Flin started eating only when she paused to take a bite herself. The food was delicious and he mentioned it after he swallowed. The bed sheet came loose, nearly falling open, and he saw Gina blush. "Did your brother wash me, or..." She blushed even more, her eyes sparkling a little bit. She must be eighteen, maybe twenty, he guessed.
Gina replied, "Well, I hope you don't mind, but I had to get you out of those rags you may have called clothes. They were soaked through from the melted snow. And," she blushed crimson, "I couldn't let you lie in my bed as dirty as you were, so, yes. I washed you." She giggled, averted her eyes and started eating again.
Flin felt the blood drain from his face, embarrassed that she had seen him naked, let alone scrubbed him clean everywhere, including his - he coughed and shoveled food into his mouth.
"I threw your clothes away and I have nothing, except my own clothes." She patted the thin lace lining her blouse, indicating her clothes wouldn't suit him. "Today is Sunday and I was planning on going into town tomorrow morning to get you some new clothes.
He startled at that, but didn't know how to thank her. Her smile said she understood his gratitude, if not somewhat sad.
"You haven't had much luck recently, have you?" Her smile faded. He half nodded, half shrugged, as he scraped up the last of the veggies. She asked, eyebrows drawn in, "Can I ask you something?" Flin nodded and put his cutlery down. "I don't know if it is polite to ask, actually, it isn't, but, uhm," she hesitated.
"After all you've done me, especially saving my life, you may ask me anything."
"Oh," she blushed, then asked, "Do you remember anything after you fell unconscious. I mean, do you remember when I bathed you?" Her eyes flew back to her plate and she played with the last of her food with her fork.
He was puzzled, but tried to think of what he remembered last. "The last thing I remember is the cold, freezing cold, then I thought the ditch might shelter me from the wind at least, but then there was a bright flash of bluish light. Then I woke earlier and came down here." Diana looked relieved, but disappointed. "Why do you ask?"
"I've heard some men say they are grow-ers, not show-ers, but you surprised me." Her cheeks reddened again, small dimples forming on the corners of her embarrassed smile. At his puzzled look, she added, "When I washed you from your stink and dirt, I had to wash you everywhere." She paused, averting her eyes. "I was thorough."
His eyes widened when it occurred to him she meant his privates, but then he became confused again. He now understood the saying, but he never thought he was big. Perhaps of average size.
Gina looked worried, upset with herself for being so forthcoming. "I'm sorry. I should not have gotten you naked without your consent. You just really needed a wash. I'm sorry. It also helped warm you up." Her head dipped and she gathered the dishes. She apologized again as she stood up.
"Wait. It's okay, honestly. I really needed a wash and I'm glad you did it." Better than a guy having had to do it, I guess. "But I don't understand. I'm not really a grower."
Her eyebrows raised in surprise and she giggled. "Don't try to be modest, Flin. I've seen it, remember." She gathered his dishes from across the table, added them to her own, and left the room to the kitchen.
He frowned. What the hell is she talking about? He looked up to make sure she was out of sight, pulled up the sheets and sat back in the chair to look at his penis. It is as small as ever. Just because it doubles in length when erect, does not make it big. His penis hung there between pubes and his balls, perhaps three inches long. "It's nothing special."
"Of course it is!" He gave a shriek and quickly covered himself. Gina stood in the doorway, looking at him. Did she undo the top button of her blouse? "It's special when it has grown!" She seemed apprehensive towards his unbelieving look. "You are too modest for your own good. But fine," she turned, "it is none of my business, anyway."
"I barely make six inches! How is that special?" She spun around and gave him a sharp look. "What?"
"You said you had a limp since you were six? How bad was it?" Curiosity overcame her and she walked back into the dining room and then stood beside him.
He turned in his chair to face her. "What does that have - well, it was bad. I could barely walk. Bones healed all wrong after breaking in five places." He felt answering would be better than asking.
She thought for a while, her eyes flicking to his left leg, then a longer pause on his groin, then his eyes. "Maybe whatever healed your leg had a side effect of a huge penis." She startled when she heard herself say that out loud.
Flin couldn't help but look down at his groin. Her presence suddenly made him all too aware of his lack of clothing and, from between his legs, he could feel blood starting to fill his penis. He shifted slightly.
He looked back at Gina and was surprised to see her watching his crotch hungrily. He shifted again, but then her eyes widened. He looked down and his own eyes shot wide when he saw what must be his penis, standing half erect and holding up the sheet like a tent pole. He nearly fell off the chair in his haste to cover himself. He knew it was his penis when his hand pressed it down and to the side.
"You said it was six inches? I think you're way past that, with a lot more to go." She still watched his crotch, her lips parted slightly.
Fuck me, she is beautiful. He felt blood rush to his cock. Baseball. Tennis. Rugby. Politics. Scooby-Doo. His erection still continued to grow and he could do nothing to hide it now.
Chapter 3 - Sunday Dessert
Gina looked up into Flin's eyes and smiled. She unbuttoned her blouse as she knelt next to his chair. Her blouse parted and she pulled it off. Her breasts were tight in her vest, showing a glimpse of her cleavage.
Flin stared at her, not sure what was happening. He tried hiding his cock, but he was not accustomed to such a big member, so he kept letting it slip when it twitched, causing the sheet to spring up into a big tent on his lap.
"If you want," Gina sat back, her ass touching her heels, "you could turn the chair and face me." He looked uncertain, so she added, "If what you told me is true, then this will be as much a new experience for you as it is for me." She responded to his look with, "I have never had a big dick before, and you haven't used your new big dick before. If," she gave him a serious look, "you are telling the truth."
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