Message-ID: <32684asstr$1001689805@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: Stone-D X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by sara.asstr-mirror.org id HAA10358 X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 17:43:57 +0700 Subject: {ASSM} STORY : Shock - Part I (M/F, MC, Mild NC, Rom) Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2001 11:10:05 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates Shock (M/F, F/F, MC, NC, Rom) Copyright (C) by Stone-D 2001 =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=XX=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Copyright Message =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= This story was written by Laga Mahesa (aka Stone-D), 2001. The following restrictions apply regarding reproduction : 1 - No content changes are permitted by any other party than the author, other than basic formatting. 2 - This header remains intact and attached to this story at all times. 3 - Permission to archive ONLINE is granted, providing the site does not make a profit, be it via advertising or member-only restrictions. 4 - For print media such as magazines, circulars or other hard formats, please contact the author. If you are unsure, contact the author. Content Warning =-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 'Shock' is an adult story and contains a vast amount of 'erotic' imagery involving ideas such as but not limited to 'Mind Control', 'Non Consensual' and general 'Romance'. Sex and violence scenes are graphic, and will undoubtedly disturb some readers. Disclaimer =-=-=-=-=-= 'Shock' is a work of complete and utter fiction. None of the characters contained herein are based on any 'real world' individuals. Any similarities are purely coincidental. Etc. Reader Feedback =-=-=-=-=-=-=-= This is my very first story, at all, ever. Well, I do have a number of other stories which are little more than a beginning paragraph, as I have a habit of starting a story whenever an idea latches on then abandoning it for 'sometime later'. Anyway. This is the first story that I intend to continue past that stage, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. Do you like it? Whether or not you do, yell. Tell me what's wrong, what needs changing. I will always listen - although I may not act upon criticisms, they will always remain in my mind, ready for future use. So please, either reply to this post or email me direct : stone AT link.net.id Should that address become invalid, contact information is available on my site : http://l33t.mine.nu/stone-d/index.html I hope. Be warned though, IE may not like my site much, I use Opera for my designing. If your post is merely abusive in nature, don't bother as I won't read past the first sentence. Only intelligent critics and firm young girls need apply. Cheerleader status not required. Please allow for some time for replies - I will reply (unless the email is abusive) but I am quite busy so they may be delayed. Emails from any young, teenaged flesh will be prioritized for reply. WARNING =-=-=-= This story is ongoing - in other words, it IS NOT FINISHED YET. I know that annoys some readers, so at least you have been warned. My target is for at least one 'Part' or Post per week - I will probably get out a couple, but that at least gives me some leeway. Each 'Part' will end at a definite scene change, so confusion will be at a minimum. This tactic will hopefully reduce any anguish and gnashing of teeth should I for some reason decide to dump the story altogether. Oh, sorry for the huge header. I copied it from some source code I wrote a while ago and couldn't be bothered changing or pruning much. Now. Enough blithering - on with the story. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=XX=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Shock (M/F, MC, Mild NC, Rom) Copyright (C) by Stone-D 2001 Part I : Internal Conduction WHETHER OR NOT you are foolish depends entirely on perspective. Look at me for instance. Twenty six year old male deeply tanned caucasian (I have some asian blood somewhere in the mists of my ancestry, so the tan isn't a big problem to maintain), 6'2", average build, fairly athletic with no flab. Single, for... let's just say too long. I made the mistakes the majority of youths in my generation made at university : Nightclubs, drink, marijuana. Certainly not to the extent that the majority did, but sufficient to nearly cost my my degree. Oh, I enjoyed it all certainly. Thankfully that worked out well, leaving me sweating blood but thankful it didn't turn out worse. So what did I do with it? Well, I spent two year deluding myself by trying to create a 'genre busting' new game. That failed, of course. Those days are long gone - now you need a well financed team backed by a ruthless money-blinded publisher. When the money started to run out, I panicked, then crawled to my parents and begged for mercy. When I eventually gathered sufficient funds, I opened an Internet Cafe. Which is where I stand today. So, okay, you might think. Fairly poor, but not spectacularly 'foolish'. At least not to the point where I ended up a complete failure. Let me explain. No, I'm not a failure - actually, the business is doing well. I now have two branches, owing to the fact that the original office was situated extremely well with respect to a nearby land development, which at that time was planned to be an apartment complex actually ended up as a high price residential area. No, the foolishness comes from the fact that I am completely dissatisfied with my life. I disrespected my parents, fouled up my education and made the worst choices I could conceive of whenever possible, never for a moment considering what the future might hold. Kids, I swear to you. Your life expectancy is roughly sixty to eighty years old, depending on where you were born, where you live and how you live. You might be thinking, 'Aw, but my teenage years are the prime of my life!' Wrong. They generally suck, and to 'sacrifice' those 'golden' years of partying and drug abuse so that you can enjoy the next forty in comfort rather than backbreaking labor is a deal I would gladly take given the opportunity again. Anyway, I picked the Internet Cafe idea because it promised a relatively easy life where I could pursue my own pleasures whilst running a business. God, how wrong I was. I have no idea when the last time was when I played a game on one of my own machines - my life is filled with meetings, transcripts and all the other trappings of business and finance. Well, to summarize, I'm feeling pretty bleak and morose just now as... ... Daniel lurched despondently down the street with a beercan in his hand, sometime after 2 AM. The city sounds washed over his foggy brain like the well-used blanket they were - an occasional horn from the nearby harbor; fire trucks grunting in the distance; cop cars whining and whooping nearby. He sighed, leaned against a post and stared randomly at passersby. Looking up he could see - barely - the full moon intersected by some overhead powerlines. A jet thundered past in the middle distance. I wonder where they were off to? He thought. Some tropical paradise no doubt. Daniel downed the remainder of the beer, crumpled up the can and tried to throw it into a nearby trashcan. He missed. Looking at the piles of assorted rubbish in the vicinity, he decided against retrieving it and putting it... Something wasn't right. He looked across the road, where a young couple were waiting to cross the road, hand in hand. The man pulled her closer and whispered something in her ear, causing her to visibly recoil with an expression of disgust her face. Looking up and down the street, he could see that the evening rush traffic was over, down to the occasional car with large gaps of emptiness between them. Those sirens are getting louder, he thought. Must be closer than I imagined. He looked back across the street in time to see the woman attempt to pull away from the man's grip, a look of misery on her face as he started to pull her across the street in my direction. Marriage problems probably, he thought. Suddenly there was an ear-piercing shriek to the left down the street, sounding like a family of pigs being disemboweled with a blunt pitchfork accompanied with a staccato hissing noise and a throaty roar. Whirling around, he saw a bottled water delivery truck come careening around the corner, its wheels spinning and leaving melted rubber on the street, and start heading in his general direction. Immediately behind it three police cars came charging out of three seperate side streets, evidently giving chase to the truck. Looking back, Daniel saw the couple stood there in the middle of the road, frozen in the truck's lights like deer on the highway. Jesus, they're gonna get hit! It was a good thing he was inebriated, otherwise he probably would have come to his senses and wouldn't have done what he did next. Daniel sprang - no, lurched - across the road, and dove at the couple, impacting heavily with the girl and wrenching her free from the man's grip who turned with a look of shock and horror at the jolt. Then he vanished. The truck crunched heavily into him, dragging him beneath the wheels as the driver swerved desperately to keep control. Wheels spinning, the truck span around leaving a red and black streak across the tarmac then flipped over onto its side and smashed into the post I had been leaning against earlier. Bottles split open, water gushed all over the ground drenching both Daniel and the girl. All was silent in the vicinity apart from the approaching police cars. Clinking noises came from the wrecked truck as hot metal came into contact with the gushing water. A moment of lucidity stung Daniel out of the numb shock of recent events, allowing him to tear his eyes away from the carnage and look up. The post the truck had hit was leaning over dangerously, tottering on the brink of collapse - and visibly stretching the frail powerlines overhead. A dull cracking noise signaled a continuation of his nightmare - the post was collapsing. Wincing at a sharp stab of agony from his left knee, he dragged himself onto his feet. Looking down, he saw the girl was half sprawled on the ground and soaked to her skin, with a vacant look of disbelief on her face staring at where a spreading pool of pink indicated where her partner now lay. Daniel reached down and shook her. "Come on! Get up, there's no time! Get up!" As he pulled her to her feet, she shook her head and gazed blankly about her until she saw him. "Ohhh... my head... Jesus! Oh my god! Th-thank you! You sa..." "Yes, yes. Later! That pole's coming down and we're soaking! MOVE!" he interrupted, pointing up urgently. A look of stunned realization crossed her face as she looked up at the powerlines. Then she moved. A sharp grimace of pain flashed across her face - I saw then that there was blood running freely down below her left ear. Oh god, she's concussed, he thought. Daniel wrapped one arm about her waist and dragged her arm across his shoulders then attempted to drag her across the street, away from the danger zone. "HOLD IT RIGHT THERE! DON'T MOVE!" came an amplified voice, sounding straight out of a B-rated 'hood' movie - sound and special effects included. Daniel froze, span around and gaped at the trio of police officers, one holding a bullhorn and the other holding a torch and gun, pointing towards us. Ohshitshitohshit! Daniel thought. This can't be happening! "KNEEL DOWN AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS!" Crap! Daniel tried to move again towards the pavement, a mere three metres away, a vision of safety in its perfect dryness. "HALT! STOP THERE OR WE SHOOT!" "Wha - " started the girl. Suddenly a tremendous cracking noise sounded behind Daniel. A quick glance at the officers showed the shock and dismay spread over their faces. Looking over his shoulder, Daniel saw what he had feared. The pole was falling. As it crashed through a department store window, trio of whipcracks sounded overhead as the powerlines snapped. "Fuck!" Daniel whimpered. Desperately, he grabbed the girl and threw her bodily towards the pavement, and tried to leap after her - but was spun round by a savage blow to his leg, collapsing him to the ground face-first in a splash of water. Just in time to see the overhead cables snap. Everything seemed to suddenly go into slow motion - sparks from the wrecked truck; the three officers mouthing obscenities; water splashing onto the ground. Everything slowed down. Except for the cables. Like gigantic rubber bands stretched over an open fire, the power lines recoiled and whipped through the air like demented rattlesnakes. The swish of their passage through the air was accompanied by distant screaming and swearing as panic set into the onlookers. A cable dropped into the water, and a sensation of pure, unmitigated agony ripped through Daniel's brain. He could feel the raw energy coursing through his body, waves of white pain wrenching up his spine and slamming into his cortex. The shock overrode his nervous system and his mind acquired a strange distance, as if viewing events from the outside. Floating above his own body, he could see his own bedraggled form twitching and thrashing like a freshly landed fish. Two police officers had made it to safety - the third bullhorn-wielding officer wasn't so lucky. He stood there in the roiling water, his hand stretched out for balance against the overturned truck and his head thrust back with mouth agape in a soundless scream, jerking and twisting like a broken marionette. Seconds passed and steam rose from his clothes as his corpse started to slowly cook, still shaking and shuddering from the electricity coursing through his nerves and brainstem. Twin sharp pops signalled the end of his eyeballs and a series of ugly sounds similar to that made by wet tissue tearing marked the moment his skin seperated from his flesh. And then, for Daniel at least, there was darkness. 'Shock' continues in Part II : Elementary Physical -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+