Message-ID: <34902asstr$1011831003@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: splineduck@hotmail.com (Spline Duck) X-Original-Message-ID: <3c4f4034.32322750@nntp.ix.netcom.com> Reply-To: splineduck@hotmail.com X-Server-Date: 23 Jan 2002 23:00:01 GMT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 23 Jan 2002 23:00:40 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Grass by S. Duck [MF, SciFi RP] Date: Wed, 23 Jan 2002 19:10:03 -0500 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: hecate, IceAltar X-noarchive Spline Duck's stories can be found at: www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/duck/www Please support ASSTR; it's a unique resource for authors. Grass by Spline Duck US Copyright Registered 1999 Editor's Note: The records of the organization known as INTERSEX contain many fascinating and original events. As they are edited and released, we hope to bring more of them to the attention of the public. INTERSEX is officially the acronym of Interstellar Scientific Expeditions (but everyone knows that it really stands for Interspecies Sex; that's what makes their bread and butter. SD = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = "I see you've been playing with a photo-editing program." "Huh?" I looked up, startled, to see my new supervisor standing next to me, looking at the picture above my desk. "Oh, yeah. It was a going-away gift from a friend." "Cute," he commented. "How did you . . ." = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = We were nearing the planet, getting ready to land. INTERSEX had sent us to find a missing recording team. The couple hadn't reported in when expected. We knew them pretty well, so we'd asked to be assigned to check the situation. I always worry when people are overdue, but accidents are rare in this business, and this was supposed to have been almost a vacation, a trivial job. No negotiations, no people - - just land, walk around, take a few simple recordings, lay back, and enjoy an easy week or two. So why were they overdue? I was worried, but I'm often told I worry too much, so I kept it to myself. But I worried. The planet looked unusual even from several planetary diameters out. From orbit, it looked like a green marble. Most of it was covered in grass, wide steppes broken by only a few small lakes and dotted only sparsely with small, forested areas. The atmosphere was very clear. You could see weather patterns in the grass; wind along the weather fronts made the grass lie down so that it looked dark against the lighter green of the calmer areas. "Maybe there'll be monsters this time, something exciting," 592 said. "I don't think there'll be much except grass and trees. After all, they were just here to make a recording of trees, and there aren't any animals larger than insects. I think they just had some minor breakdown - - they're probably camping out, fucking up a storm, hoping that a ride home doesn't arrive too soon. What could happen? It was supposed to be a cakewalk." "Did you realize that we've worked together for 15 years?" 592 said. "We've had a lot of good assignments in that time." That came from out of the blue! What could he be thinking about? "Yeah," I said, "I guess that's about right. We're lucky we're compatible." I smiled. "And we're lucky that INTERSEX likes to send couples on so many of their projects. It's great to be able to spend time together when we're working." He hesitated. "We've been together a long time. I don't want to hurt you, but I've got to talk about this. I want to tell you something I've been thinking about for quite a while," he said. He looked out the window. I wondered what in the world was going on with him. He looked back at me and then out the window again. "I'm feeling kind of dry. I've even been thinking lately about how nice retiring would be, going back to my hometown on Earth. This grassy planet reminds of the fields around my home." He looked down at the floor of the cabin. "Would you come with me?" Then he started talking fast, as if he were finally getting out something he'd been hanging onto for far too long. I was in shock. "It's a really peaceful place. It's pretty, and it's friendly. Somehow, for the last year or two our assignments haven't really interested me like they used to. I think I want to get out. But I want you to come with me. It's not you; it's the job, the instability, feeling lonely in crowds of strangers." He looked me in the eye. " I didn't know how to tell you, how to start talking about this. I really want you to come with me." Floored! My mind wasn't functioning! My companion, and he's thinking about quitting, taking me away from my work, leaving me, perhaps. "I don't know; I don't even know how to think about it. I need some time. I enjoy our work, and I'm not sure about settling down yet. What's happened to make you want to pull out? What about us? Maybe we can somehow change what we do." He hesitated, and then started to answer. "Lately, the assignments seem more or less the same. Every assignment . . . the repetitious struggle to meet another new group of people and persuade them to let us do a recording. I'm not . . ." He was interrupted by an alarm. I looked at the console. "There's the signal from their ship. Let's get ready to land. Let me think more about it. We can talk more on the return trip. We'll have a lot of time then, and I'll have had some time to get my feelings in order. I don't know right now; I just don't know what to think." I wish I'd encouraged him to finish his thoughts right then. On the way down, he started talking about the mission. "Trees," he said. "Why trees? Why are we here to record trees? Who's interested in trees? How did they come up with this idea of recording trees." "Well, they're pretty unusual trees," I replied. "They have at least a minimal self-awareness, not as much as birds, but certainly more than bees." And in my mind I wondered why he was suddenly having all these doubts about such a simple thing. What was happening to my companion? "But how did they even find that out? Who would have thought to look at the trees? I wouldn't have done; would you?" I thought back to the extra material that came with the mission plan. "They didn't find any animals larger than insects here. No one had ever seen a planet where plants were the dominant life form. When the first expedition didn't find any large animals, they used their recording equipment to try to scan a large area quickly. When they scanned the forest, they found that the trees had a kind of awareness, and, at least a little, they can communicate with each other. INTERSEX thought it might be interesting to have a recording of such a different lifeform. If nothing else, it might be useful for educational programs." "Yeah! Well, they're still just trees. How much sex life could trees have?" We landed near their ship. It sat in a space between the forest and the steppe. Here the grass was shorter. A short distance from the ship, there was an open-air camp. But there was no sign of our friends. I called out, but no one answered; I started to worry a bit more. I said, "You check the campsite. I'll look in the ship. If they have their clothes off, bawl them out for starting the party before the guests arrived. And then whistle me up. If they don't have them off, ask them what they're waiting for." The hatch on the ship was open. Inside, everything looked fine, but as I left, I noticed that there were leaves, dust, and scraps of grass near the door, as if the door had been open for some days. They weren't there, and they hadn't been there for a while. I went to see what 592 had found. "The camp's pretty much in order. But everything's dusty. Bed's been slept in; looks like unwashed dishes from breakfast. But nothing disturbed. They haven't been here for at least several days. I called, but I got no response. Recording and camping equipment are gone, so they may be out on a hike to make some records." I looked around at the camp, the grassy plain, the nearby woods. "God, these insects are noisy. Some of these guys are as big as mice. Look at the size of these holes. Listen to the noise coming out of them. Hey, I didn't see anything amiss in the ship, just that the door was open. Kind of careless if they had planned to be away. On the other hand, you said the camping equipment is gone." "Maybe they're lost." I said, "Or maybe they've gone for a long hike. It's past midday. Let's set up a minimal camp so we can sleep outside the ship. Then we can take a tour of the woods." He hesitated. "I'd just as soon leave the woods for later. Why don't we just look around out here? There's no rush about going in there." I laughed. "Hey! There's nothing dangerous here! Besides, we'll just poke around in the borders today. There's not enough time to go very far before dark. Tomorrow, we'll put some effort into finding them, and maybe we'll make a couple of recordings ourselves. Don't look so sad!" I edged up beside him and bumped him with my hip. Rubbing it up and down against him, I whispered, "Let's get our camp set up. Then we'll go look in the woods. Maybe we can set an example for the trees. They're already hard; maybe we just need to wake them up." Tents, tarps, stoves, sleeping bags - - everything for a simple campout came out. 592 did his part like sleepwalker; he looked so down. It was hard to carry on a conversation with him. Afterwards, we went for a walk along the border of the woods. He said, "God! There are a lot of bugs here. I hope they quiet down at night. If they don't, it's going to be like trying to sleep in an um-pah band." I said, "I don't know. I always like the summer crickets, the louder, the better. When we'd visit my grandparents, I always enjoyed going to sleep to the crickets. I slept best when they were the loudest. When the seventeen year locusts came, I slept like a log." When we returned, I warmed up a dinner for us. I decided to try to cheer him up after we had eaten. I'd always been able to cheer him up in the past; he'd even cheered me up a few times when I was down. I made a few plans. "Come on. There's little pond not far from the woods. Let's take an after-dinner stroll. It'll feel good." I hooked my arm through his and lead the way onto the veldt, rubbing up against him as much as possible. Before we got to the pond, I had my hand in his shorts, feeling his butt. "You know," he said, "this reminds me of a little pond in the woods near my home. We used to take our girlfriends there to make out." "I'm here," I said. Sidling around to the front of him, I said, "And you can do some serious making-out with me if you want." A bulge pressing into my belly told me that serious was at least one of the way stations to be expected. Reaching in to check on progress, I said, "And your friend here might want to join in, too. I have a treat waiting for you that he might enjoy." And we started back to the camp. I figured I had him; men are so easy. This was going to be fun. "Lay back, and just think of this as my birthday present to you. We'll do it again on your birthday if you like it. Put this headset on." As he lay down, I got out the recording that John in the Research Department had helped me produce. It was just the two of us, but "enhanced." They can do a lot in the R&D department; their equipment is better than any commercial rig, and they can make recordings that are better than anything you ever saw before. Their stuff is easy to get lost in. "Just kick off those shoes and pants. Close your eyes and just flow along with the recording. I'll be back in a couple of minutes." I'd put a long, slow lead-in on the session. It started with just some music in a misty environment. Almost no sensations in the beginning, but as the mist clears, the sensations join in quickly. I went to get some lubricant and a headset for myself. When I returned, he was kind of hard. I put on a headset of my own so I could monitor his ascent, but I kept the intensity turned way down. This show was for him, and I didn't want to get lost. I picked up the recording while it was still in the misty, diffuse feelings section. "OK! ShowTime," I whispered to him. Reaching down to grab hold of him, I felt him harden a bit more; I pushed a button to start the progression into the next section. In the recording, I saw myself stride out of the mist with long, assured steps. Not me, but an Amazon-me, half-again as tall as him, muscled and confident. My face was covered with fearsome cat-like tattoos; hair flaming streaks of red, black, and yellow; I was a leopard in heat. Form-fitting black only accentuated the muscles; a huge scar on the right arm was one sign that here was a tough one. "They said you would be waiting for me," she rumbled. And she reached out to grasp him, laughing, saying, "But this little thing won't do. We've got to do better than this." We both started to stroke him. She said, "Come on! I'm planning on enjoying myself, and a little splinter isn't going to cut it, no matter how hard it is." As she stroked him, he not only got harder, but the penis in the vision began to grow. Larger, rougher, redder, and her huge hand circled it, stroked it, squeezed it, encouraging its growth. "That's more like it!" she yelled. "I need a real man. I've never yet found one who's too big for me." He was as hard as I had ever felt him, and in the vision, his penis was huge; finger-sized veins snaked blue over the enlarging, reddening surface. The Amazon continued massaging with both her immense hands. They barely circled the growing penis as it approached its ultimate size. Somehow, now she was naked except for a huge black bra holding heavy, swaying breasts. Sparse, darkish hair lined the edges of the lips between her thighs, making her sex open and obvious as she swung a leg over him. The looming organ reared up to meet her. She thrust herself down, grunting with effort, sighing as she opened, and then exhaling as her depths were opened. Liquid squirted from her sex as she was filled. "That's better," she growled. Then a deep purr rumbled from her as she came, forcing a jet of sticky fluid out as his massive penis was squeezed by her huge vagina. She pounded her fist on his chest and came again with an incoherent shout. I just kept stroking slowly; it wasn't quite time for him to come. Pressing down to take the full, extravagant length, she said, "Now, it's your round. Let's see what this beast can do." She turned, dismounting, with streams of sticky, almost jelly-like, liquid dripping from her vagina. A thick, long-fingered hand descended to grasp him, stroke him. The other joined in the dance, both sliding the length from base to knob. I was so pleased with the effect on him; he continued hard, and I could see he was having trouble controlling himself. A warrior's hand clasped his glans, thumb stroking the dimple, fingers kneading the rest. "I'm ready for you now," she muttered, and leaning down, she started to take him into her mouth. I started squeezing harder and stroking faster. His little thrusts told me he was almost there. He stiffened as her lips reached the base of the monster organ. My lips surrounded the tip of his penis as a small, salty stream landed on my tongue. The Amazon-me sucked on; lips sliding up and down, she swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. He grunted and sighed and then began to relax, sliding away into unconsciousness. The Amazon patted him, saying, "Good boy," and stalked away. The music and mist returned and then faded away. I was alone with an unconscious, but well-satisfied, partner. I lay there basking in a warm, internal glow of success. I owed John in R&D a big present. Perhaps I was overly pleased with myself, but his gentle snoring just made my accomplishment better. The sounds of insects faded as darkness became complete. For a while, the wind blew through the trees, that beautiful, comforting sound. I just lay there feeling at peace. As the last shreds of light faded from the sky, the night shift of bugs slowly began their crazy lullaby as I faded into a deep sleep. In the morning, 592 was his usual happy self again. A little affection and a big blowjob seemed enough to make him a new man. We took a short walk in the woods. The trees were fairly far apart, and there was almost no undergrowth. I had walked a little way ahead before I noticed that 592 was hanging back near the edge of the woods. I called out, "C'mon, fraidy-cat! There's lots to do." 592 started walking slowly toward me. He kept looking around and turning to look back the way we had come in. "Did you notice," he said, "how much quieter it is in here? Out in the grass, it's an opera, a symphony, and a brass band, all at once - - a bug's choral. And when you step into the woods, it all stops! It's almost silent in here. About all I hear is the wind in the trees and your stomping on the leaves." "I didn't notice. I was thinking about other things." I turned to walk back toward the edge. As I neared the grass, the onslaught of sound started, first softly, then louder and louder. "I got used to the sound and didn't notice," I said. "Come on, Let's go look around." We wandered around for a while, checking our direction finder occasionally to make sure we weren't just circling around in the trees. There was no sign of the other team, but that was hardly surprising. What was worrying was the lack of any sign at the camp that they had expected company. If I'd had a problem, I would have hung around the camp or at least left a note. By late midday, I was getting hungry enough to want to go back. This wandering around was pleasant, and it gave us a perspective about what the countryside was like, but it wasn't a very helpful way to search for our friends. I called to 592, "Let's head back to eat. While we walk, we can do a little planning. We need to organize our search a bit more." He stopped and looked around. Pointing, he said, "See that low rock outcropping going off that way. That's roughly the direction of the ships, and the trees are thinner along the side of the rocks. Let's start that way. It should be easy walking." And so we started strolling back to lunch, talking easily because there was enough room to easily walk side-by-side. It was sunny, comfortably warm; this world seemed a paradise, comfortable in every way. That's when we found it: just a little plastic cap, nothing really, lying in the grass, knocked off some piece of equipment or fallen from a pack, dirty. Now we knew; they'd come this way. Time to make some real plans to search for them. On our walk back to camp, we held hands and hugged, but we hardly talked. We both had a feeling that we wouldn't see our friends again. A dreadful feeling seemed to smother us. Lunch was almost silent, with a little talk about the morning hike. We were both dreading the next step. We needed to find our friends, but we were afraid that things were not right in this paradise. After lunch, we started to look at an aerial photo of the region. "That rocky ridge we followed back leads to a small clearing in the forest," 592 said. "If I were going to make a recording, I'd probably go there; it would have the advantage of surely being enough space to set up the equipment easily, and it would be a good place to camp. If I'd been them, that's where I would have planned to work." "It's too late to start today. Let's get our stuff together today, and we'll just look around in the woods and grasslands around camp for the rest of the day. If we get an early start tomorrow, we could hike to the clearing and back by late afternoon. We can take camping equipment, in case we decide to go farther. We might have to spend some time looking around there, and now, I'm really worried that we might find them." "Come on," 592 said. "Let's go look around in the woods some more." As we walked into the woods, the shroud of quiet descended again. "You know," 592 said, "It's not just quiet in here; it's dead. Look! Dead bugs! All around us: dead bugs! But they're mostly over there, near the edge of the woods." We looked around, walking in and out of the periphery of the wood. 592 whispered, "They just come in here and die. There's nothing living in here but trees. The bugs fly in from the grasslands and die. I don't even see gnawed leaves. They just die. Boom! Dead!" He looked around and shook his head. "Funny! Dead!" He walked another 50 paces into the trees. "None! Not a single one in here, not even dead." I picked up one of the bugs. It looked just like the ones out in the grass. When I picked up another, it was slightly stuck to the ground; I looked and saw that roots that had grown into it. I showed it to 592. "Look! This one was stuck to the ground. It looks like the trees are quick to get the nutrients from the dead bugs. This one's still fresh, and already the trees have grown roots into him." I stooped and pulled hard to get another off the ground. "And this one just a mass of roots. And look around! There are little bug- shaped lumps everywhere." I knelt and started picking apart a mossy lump. "Look here! Inside this lump is a bug's exoskeleton. The trees are eating the bugs." "This place is giving me the creeps. Let's go back and pack up for tomorrow. I'm starting to like this job less and less. It's even worse than the others we've been doing lately." After dinner, 592 and I sat and discussed our plan for the next day. After our walk in the woods, he had become distant again. I tried to draw him out, but, in the end, I only felt more alone. In the morning, we started early. The same eerie fading of the insects' songs accompanied our outset. 592 said, "You know, when we first arrived, I hated the unending noise from the bugs. Then we saw that something happened in the woods to kill them, and now I'd rather hear that sound of life than this funereal quiet. These dead woods trouble me. They're eating the only live things here. We've got to get off this planet as soon as we can." I couldn't find an answer. I had the same feeling: this dead, deadly vacuum of sound ate at me as we walked along. Late in the morning, he said, "I think I see an opening over there. That must be the clearing." I said, "Go ahead. I'm going to pee here and catch up in a moment." I was just adjusting my clothes when he called, "Their equipment's here, but they're not. It's all set up for a recording. Come and help me check things out." The clearing was perhaps fifty paces across. As I walked into it, I turned and said, "They are here. I see them over there at the far edge, near the packs." "What are you talking about? There's no one here. Get some glasses." "They're there. I see them. But I don't really want to see what I know is there." And we walked across the clearing. The clearing was mostly level, slightly rolling. But next to the packs was a mossy lump. When I used my imagination, I could see it as two lovers, snuggled together, overgrown with moss. I started to cry. "It's just like the bugs. They're just like the bugs. I knew it as soon as I saw them across the clearing." "No! You can't be right. It's just an old log or two." Falling to my knees, I started to pull the moss and roots aside. "Oh God, here's a leg bone. The roots have even grown into it. They're digesting it, feeding off it. They're eating our friends." Sobbing, I fell down, hugging my old friends. "There's nothing left. They're just part of the trees now." "It looks like they were holding each other when something happened here. Come on; let's get out of here." = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Back at camp, both of us terribly down. A quick meal, and then I needed some closeness, comforting. God, what a mess. 592 and I went to bed, but my mind kept cycling back to what we had found. I'd think I was getting through it, and then I'd start sobbing again. I needed to break the cycle. 592 held me through it all. A rock, even in his despair and angst. Eventually, he started to get aroused. When I felt his erection pushing into my stomach through my clothes, I started wanting him too; I needed all the closeness I could get. I massaged him through his clothes. I'd get wet. But every time I'd just get myself to the point of desire, the image of the forms in the clearing would come back again; I'd start another session of crying. I'd get through that one, I'd get wetter still, and then I'd hear the bugs around us again; I'd think about the trees eating the bugs, the trees eating our friends, and I'd start crying again. Trapped by my own emotions! Finally, desperately, I said to 592, "Look, I've got to distract my mind. I know you're ready, but I don't think I can do this alone. I know we're not supposed to use the big stuff ourselves, but let's get out our recording equipment. With the reflectors and projectors, I'll be able to keep my mind focused. I've got to stop this. I feel like my mind is coming apart. With the machines, I'll be able to stay focused. I need to be as close to you as possible. I've just got to get some release. I need to feel you in me, but I need to be there too. At this rate, I'll never make it, let alone make it to a climax." So, we set up our professional, INTERSEX recording equipment, focusing it on our sleeping area. I took the hand control to bed with us. What a relief! As soon as I lay down, I sensed how complete a difference there would be. Now I'd be able to stay focused. As I lay there, spoon-fashion with 592, I told him, "Just hold me like this for a few minutes, until I get myself together." His erection was pushed into my back, and his leg was hooked over mine. Finally, I was able to focus again; I felt like myself again, mostly in control. "OK, my mind is feeling calmer. Come and get me." Wriggling against him, I worked around until he was positioned just right, and then I pushed down. His arms were still tight around me. Now I felt totally under control, my buns in his lap and him pushing up into the center of me. I pushed the button to increase the power of the projectors and ground my hips down into his lap. The world contracted to my skin, growing hotter and hotter. Reaching between my legs to feel him briefly, I slowly pulled back to rub myself to an incandescent orgasm. Perfect; perfect. I'm back to myself, I thought, and I came again. Dripping sweat, I grabbed him and said, " Wait a minute! Wait a minute! I want to catch my breath and turn over. Let's finish with me on my hands and knees." I slipped out and turned over and knelt next to him. While I was at it, I punched the button again to increase the power to the projectors. Getting up on my knees and spreading them for him, I felt his hand resting on my hip and his wet erection against my leg. I was so wet, it was running down my leg. I was ready, but nothing happened. He seemed frozen. I twitched my hip under his hand and bumped it against his leg, once, twice. Nothing! "Well," I said, "Did you forget how to do it" and I nudged him again; still nothing. Anger started to compete with desire. "Hey Loverboy! Wake up!" Turning my head to look back, I saw that he was looking over me with his hand still resting on my hip. His face was blank, without a sign of arousal. Sarcasm starting to take over, I said "Hello. Hello. It's still down here if you still want a piece." But he just gazed over me and pointed with his chin in the direction he was looking. Slowly, I turned my head to look in that direction. And there, strolling from the woods, directly toward us, were our dead friends, smiling and holding hands. I turned back to 592. "Did you slip a recording in while I wasn't looking? I'm not amused." He shook his head and said, "No. It wasn't me. No." His gaze never wavered from the vision. I rolled onto my side and sat up. I was about to speak to them when they started talking to us. "We guessed you would start the party without us. Actually, we were afraid that you wouldn't use any of the equipment, and then we wouldn't have been able to talk to you. We've been waiting and watching, hoping that you'd use the recorders, like we did." "What's happening here? I saw you in the clearing; I saw your bodies in the clearing. What are you?" "We're just who we always were. We were making a recording of the trees in that clearing. It was pretty boring, so we decided to play a bit. As we lay there with our minds drifting in an afterglow from sex, we became aware of the trees through the projectors. It's that simple. We just kind of joined in. The trees don't really have a consciousness, and ours got imprinted on them. We just drifted away and became the forest, the whole world really. All of the plants on this planet are connected in some small way into a huge not-quite- conscious net. Well, it wasn't conscious until we joined in. We didn't even notice we were out of our bodies until later." She said, "We've missed you. Come on. Come look at this world with us. We'll show you around." We both stood up, and the four of us started toward the forest. 592 said, "I haven't felt this free for years. It's like going home." He turned to me and said, "You know, I was looking for this feeling when I talked about retiring and going back to my hometown. I think I'm home now." And the three of them started walking toward the wood. I looked back at the camp and saw my own body lying there. "Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" They turned to look at me. "What about us? What happening to us? What will happen to our bodies?" "Us? We're no different. We're just who we always were. Out here, your bodies can feed the grass, just like ours are feeding the trees, just like the grasslands feed the insects to the trees. Come on; we have a whole world to see, to play in." "No! I'm not ready for this. No! I won't feed the trees." And I used all my will to hold to my body. Straining, I raised my hand slowly and hit the 'Off' button. My three friends vanished in an instant; I've never felt so alone, abandoned, marooned. I cried for a long time. I got angry. I wrecked the camp, and then I cried some more. I even thought about turning the projectors back on; I knew they were waiting for me, calling to me. So I threw the projectors into the pond. I threw his body into the woods and never looked back. "Feed your damn trees," I yelled. Somehow, I managed to take off without crashing; I'll never know how. From space, the world was once again a green marble, deceptively calm and inviting. I hated it all. The weather fronts were still dark on the grass. Through my tears, I thought I could see the grove of trees where my dead friends were. Suddenly, something changed on the planet. Somehow the grasslands looked disorganized, then they flashed entirely dark, then light, then patchy and changing. Suddenly, the grass was all light, and slowly the image of a hand making a thumbs-up gesture formed on the steppes. It vanished, and I turned a camera on. Slowly the surface changed again. This time a face appeared in the grass, filling the whole side of the planet that faced me: 592's face; he smiled, winked, and then he was gone. The weather fronts formed again on the grass as I cried against the glass. Even now, the trees would be eating him. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = ". . . why is it winking? And this poem is a bit much; kind of maudlin, isn't it?" "Like I said, it was a going-away gift from a friend; I don't talk about it. And the poem is mine. I like it, so shut up!" = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = I've looked for you, my friend On mountains and in mists of fields I thought I heard your voice and saw your face, But I haven't found you yet. And in some quiet place in the sea of grass, Where you play, no sound is ever heard END. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Spline Duck's stories can be found at: www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/duck/www splineduck@hotmail.com splineduck@hotmail.com -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+