Every Hero Deserves A Blowjob

Every Hero Deserves A Blowjob

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

Summary

What do you do when you’ve been gifted with a magical power that translates the world you see as a video game, and at the same time have found yourself at the erogenous epicenter of the supernatural realm? Good question! You become a hero!

Summary

What do you do when you’ve been gifted with a magical power that translates the world you see as a video game, and at the same time have found yourself at the erogenous epicenter of the supernatural realm? Good question! You become a hero!

Chapter1 (v.6) - Chapter 1

Chapter Content - ver.6

Submitted: June 20, 2018

Reads: 473

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.6

Submitted: June 20, 2018

A A A

A A A

Chapter 1

 

Karma

 

The lesson I’d learned after two months in jail became an underlying theme quicker than I expected. The problems, issues, and insurmountable addictions people experienced festered in them, regardless of their starting points. The key difference was that people in jail came to terms with their deficiencies. These individuals wore their taboos like tattoos instead of hiding behind a facade to fit with social norms. Some people made excuses for themselves, but most didn’t feel the need. Those incarcerated simply internalized their unique outcomes.

 

My release date hung on the horizon like an oasis glistening in the distance. A persistent calm had fallen upon me since the beginning of my incarceration. My existence in this ecosystem of the lost depended upon it. Now, with freedom in sight, my instincts told me to keep up the pace. The less people knew, the less they started trouble. I found no reason to get attached after what had happened in my previous life. People came and went through the revolving doors of life and in my eyes, they were temporary at best.

 

“So, you like video games?”

 

Old Steve posed this question to me the night before my release, even as our game of spades proved his considerable skill as an opponent. He ran his frail hand through his peppered gray hair. The gesture gave him an uncommon air of dignity. His question came on the heels of a brief conversation on the strategy of cards and how I preferred role-playing games. I described franchises I liked, those I didn’t, and why for both. My group of cohorts listened, mindful of the hands already played, their interest lackluster.

 

“Well, yeah. Of course!” I responded. “There’s always a strategy to win and a story behind the madness. It’s like reading a good book, only you get to make your own decisions along the way. And if the game is good, you get to invest a part of yourself in the outcome.”

 

“Interesting take on it,” he said with a nod of approval, taking a book for his team. “What would you do if life were a game?”

 

“I’d be the hero, for sure,” I said after a moment of thought. Jail made a man honest, and my answer reflected as much. I also noticed the two remaining spades in my hand, saved for just such an occasion. Smiling, I continued, “You know – only it would be different. Being the hero, you get to fuck shit up and save the day, but in my story, I’d have bad bitches praising my heroics.”

 

As I claimed the last two bags, the group’s chuckles turned to curses. Of course, I felt this way… for the most part. Every hero deserved a blowjob, at the very least. The hero usually saved some beautiful damsel in distress and got something minuscule in return. A sword. A potion. A spell. Bitch, I just saved your life. How about a little compensation?

 

“Lights out in 10 minutes...,” an officer’s voice crackled over the intercom.

 

My thoughts bounced between the triumphant victory and my fated release the next morning as I walked back to my cell for the guard’s inspection. I hoped the fortunate hand was a sign of things to come and, seating myself on the metallic stool bolted next my bunk, I delved into my book of the week. I’d sharpened my skills over the past few months. I was no longer a mere spectator watching the other Marines playing spades on deployment.

 

I was good at games and games were about strategy. But my strategy for what to do with my approaching freedom extended no further than sleeping in a normal bed. I needed a job, first and foremost. I still had my daughter to think of and, though she wasn’t even born yet, a single mother needed some form of support. I owed at least that much to the woman pregnant with my child.

 

“Whatever, fuck it,” I said to an empty cell as I stretched out, pondering my circumstances a few more minutes before falling asleep.

 

Morning came sooner than appreciated. I laid there for a moment after waking to the sound of the cell clicking open, enjoying the feeling of my hard dick beneath my skivvies. Savoring the feeling, I waited until the guards called for breakfast over the intercom. As I drifted down to line up for chow, I knew one thing for sure. I wouldn’t miss the morning gruel. I ate in silence, never one to talk much after waking, and didn’t make much eye contact other than pleasant morning smiles to those seated at the table.

 

After breakfast, I leisurely walked back up the stairs to my cell with my coffee and opened a book. I’d been filling my mind with everything from courtroom dramas to paranormal romances since the beginning of my incarceration. My current provocateur was a fantasy novel with particularly steamy sex scenes. I welcomed the contrast of the written world against my bleak surroundings.

 

After an hour or so, I heard my name called on the intercom. I walked down to the bay door and stood patiently. When the officer came to escort me, I followed. We proceeded down the hall past the atrium and into a concrete room where my lawyer waited. I signed a few documents, shook my lawyer’s hand, and followed the guard back the cellblock. 

 

The officer waited at the bay door while I went to my cell to collect my things. As I organized my possessions, I heard approaching footsteps and turned to see a frail form out of the corner of my eye.

 

“Can I have your socks?”

 

Turning, I saw the well-groomed Old Steve standing in the doorway. In jail, the released often gave up socks and small items to those sticking around.

 

“Sure,” I said with a shrug and added a few noodle packets for good measure. “Enjoy.”

 

Old Steve smiled, teeth too pristine for a man in jail, and extended his left hand in farewell. His firm grip struck me as odd for someone of his years, but I returned equal pressure in the shake.

 

“Don’t have too much fun on the other side.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

I probably wouldn’t. Too much fun brought trouble. Trouble, as I’d learned in this prison of the mind, landed most right back in the same position for a much longer time. I returned his smile as I walked past him, turning my attention to my hand. A red outline lingered where our palms had met. My gaze shifted to the waiting officer as I turned away from my former ‘associates’. Like I said before, people were temporary at best. Almost free.

 

****

 

Twelf

 

Twelf felt drained as he exited the dimensional portal. One mortal really doesn’t warrant this much work, he thought as he studied his reflection mirrored in the obsidian windows lining the black corridors. His shoulders slumped. Humans really didn’t age well at all. Shaking his head back and forth, the wizened disguise of ‘Old Steve’ shifted loose. He hated this part. Pain shot through his body, reverberating through his bones as ligaments and tendons realigned. His shoulders straightened as his spine shifted in length. It’s worth the pain, he thought. Now, on to business.

 

Twelf’s echoing steps took him through elaborate twists and turns as he maneuvered through the endless labyrinth. His sister’s penchant for design made him chuckle. Was all this really necessary? Save for her and their family, access to her dimension was still restricted.

 

Her blasted maze, not without its charm, continued to degrade and crumble with time. Leaping across chasms, Twelf heard the Void’s murmurs in the darkness. Safe, for now, the Void’s presence remained a constant pressure in the back of his brain. They watched and waited, her creations designed as the ultimate defense in her absence. Had they really needed to be so psychologically oppressive? And how damn long did her labyrinth really need to be?

 

His frustration shifted as he crested the last gravity-defying loop, his path opening up higher and higher still. Far off into the blackness at the top of the rising slope stood the final corridor. Appearing deceptively easy, the solitary path’s design provided the final gauntlet for any invader foolish enough to trespass. He took the sloping path in two large bounds.

 

The first took him halfway and, as the elevation increased, the second brought him dangerously close to the membrane of the Void. Twelf winced as large, monolithic hands broke the surface, reaching for the point where his body neared the interior wall. He shivered at the thought of his eldest sister, the creator of such mindless beings. Her imagination exceeded his by far.

 

He covered the remaining distance by foot, taking a brief moment to study the path behind him. The sheer immensity overwhelmed his senses, and he felt sorry for any soul unlucky enough to find its way into her realm. Between the endless twists and turns, the labyrinth all but assured the Altar of Saints’ safety. Of course, the Void added an additional layer of security… albeit overkill.

 

Twelf could admit the necessity of his sister’s measures when considering the greater scheme of things, but he was never one for such grand designs. Her responsibility for keeping the dimensions stabilized demanded a consideration only she possessed. Every feature down to the stonework of the pathway showed her attention to detail.

 

How had they come to this, then? Sighing, he turned back to the sloping path that led to the final corridor. As he bridged the threshold where the walls cropped upward from the sides of the path, more of his sister’s windows greeted him. Unlike the previous windows of obsidian darkness, each of these held a different moment frozen for her viewing pleasure. He’d added more over the past year, hoping to ease the buzzing curiosity he sensed in her, but they remained unused.

 

Her love for watching the evolving events of mortals from afar came to an end when she chose to become a mortal herself. Cut off from the source of her power, she was unable to create new windows or manipulate the old.

 

Her essence hung in the air at the end of the corridor, a shadow and nothing more, but her anticipation precipitated his senses. Even in death, their familial bond endured. While time meant nothing to them, her extensive patience through this tedious affair surprised him. No longer able to speak, the manifestation of her divinity broke his heart. Twelf knew the truth. He knew her laughter and her kindness. He yearned to see his eldest sister smile again, to hear her talk of the struggles of mortals and their perseverance in the face of adversity.

 

For Twelf, bringing the necessary set of events to pass proved a serious trial. Now, they approached the apex. All the mortal has to do is play along, he thought. For almost two decades Twelf had watched his sister’s attempt at mortality from afar. He’d planned a strategy to suit the tastes of her mortal half based on his knowledge of her unfortunate vices.

 

The inherent danger of the Void warranted a swift departure once the first domino fell. With it set in motion and her path secured, his sister’s freedom became all but guaranteed. The Void, unfortunately, enjoyed the same luxury. If only the rules he abided by allowed for the transport of her divine consciousness directly to the 12th.

 

“Sorry for the wait, sis, but I have a good feeling about this one.”

 

Her shadow turned to greet him, and through her hazy disembodiment, he almost made out the calm features of the smile he knew was there.

 

“Shall we have a look-see, then?”

 

Opening a new window, he searched the 3rd Dimension for the man he’d interviewed. Crass, uncultured, undignified, and emotionally unavailable. Twelf found the mortal’s tailored disposition uncanny. If, by chance, he happened to pass the Trial of Observation, Twelf knew their eventual success was near certain. So many candidates had already failed. Even when the candidates exhibited the right qualities in the interview, they always failed the Trial of Observation. As much as he hated the idea of bringing a man to the 12th, as women displayed a better disposition when confronted with Twelf’s tests, it needed a hero. A heroine wouldn’t work. If only she was a lesbian….

 

Shifting his gaze to his sister’s shadowy figure, he shook the thought away. Time and time again, her predisposition for heroes had always resurfaced. Bastards. His sister made a beautiful mortal, intelligent and charismatic, yet she suffered innumerable times at their hands. Twelf didn’t know why, but they often carried too much baggage to overcome.

 

“Now, watch very carefully dear sister. If everything goes well, we’ll have you back to normal in two shakes of a Void Sentinel.” An involuntary shiver spread up Twelf’s spine as he thought of the monolithic hands blindly reaching out to crush him.

 

His sister’s black silhouette adjusted to face the images displayed in front of them. Through the dimensional window, a sunny afternoon along a windswept river path in late October pulsed into view. Dimensional jumps accounted for a considerable loss of time and now, the man bumbled along, oblivious to the magic already present within him.

 

Twelf crossed his fingers, hoping he’d picked the right one this time. His plan hinged on the moral sacrifice of one of his favorite custodians, but the succubus hadn’t balked. She’d accepted his request despite a lack of detailed information. Twelf cherished her loyalty to the cause. She was a good girl to her core, and Twelf decided then and there to make it up to her somehow in the future.

 

Twelf’s attention turned back to his newest candidate. With the river to his right, Karma walked down the path heading north. Geese squawked along, while various mortals walked their canines. Twelf shifted the perspective of the window, repositioning it to a first-person view.

 

Twelf felt almost desperate to see an end to the trials, but he knew the real challenge depended on Karma’s ability to impress the divine consciousness floating beside him. She’d gone so far as to use the last bit of her energy to modify the magic Twelf gave him; her personal investment in this endeavor rose higher than anyone’s.

 

A couple further along the path stopped to take pictures of the view. Their baby’s stroller stood a few feet away, unattended. Where the riverbank’s ridge ended, the sloping wall dropped to rocky waters below. Mortals were so stupid. Even in another dimension, Twelf sensed the imminent danger. The wind blew harder, and slowly, the baby’s stroller began to roll. Neither parent noticed as it approached the ledge, inching its way ever closer. Another gust of wind, and the stroller rolled out of sight to the waters below. Karma began to run as Twelf and the shadowy form of his sister watched through the first-person view of the window.


© Copyright 2018 Aaron H. All rights reserved.

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