Suburban Cyborg

by Gloria Martin

  He was nervous, too. She could see it in the way he moved to pull her closer against him, feel it in the gentle kiss he pressed to her lips. Somehow, his gentleness settled her own nerves, and she reached up to sink her fingers into his hair, stroking softly. Cynric grunted at that, a deep, throttled sound, and she shivered.

  “Come to bed,” he murmured, and within moments his fingers were undoing her dress, letting it pool onto the floor, along with the rest of his clothing. In the dim light of the crackling fire, she was tempted to hide herself under the blankets... but then Cynric’s hands were on her, running up her hips, over her stomach. A soft moan tumbled from her lips, and he smiled into her skin.

  “Your hands...” she began, then faltered.

  “Hmm?” The word was not so much heard as felt, rumbling against her neck.

  “They’re so warm.”

  He chuckled, and pressed the full length of his body against hers. Brida gasped softly into his lips as he kissed her again. The heat in his skin seemed to coil in her stomach, streaking lower like lightning. He was ready, and with every kiss she knew she was ready too.

  Cynric’s hands stroked her thighs, parting them gently. His eyes searched hers, waiting, and she nodded. When he hesitated further, she reached down and touched — it was true. He was hot as a blazing iron, even there. Her fingers wrapped around his manhood, squeezing, and he groaned, hips canting forward.

  She could wait no longer — the next time he kissed her, she flicked her tongue, urging him on, and wrapped a leg around him. He drifted down, pressing up against her, and Brida rubbed against him, testing.

  “Careful...” he murmured, “I don’t want to hurt...”

  “Shh,” she said, kissing him again. “I know you won’t.”

  It began slowly, and true to his word he sought not to hurt her. He entered her, agonizingly slowly, and after a long, slow thrust Brida pressed against him, urging him on. The heat rose in her stomach as every breath caught in her chest, she released them with moans and sighs that matched Cynric’s.

  She could feel the end too quickly, the heat boiling over, desperately clinging to him with every thrust, and at long last crying out into his shoulder. He followed quickly after, kissing her roughly, desperately, until at last he lay still on her, nose nestled in the crook of her shoulder.

  Her fingers found his hair again, stroking gently. He pressed his lips to her shoulder.

  “I have many regrets in this life,” he said as he rolled to the side and Brida curled up and pressed her ear to his chest to listen to his heart. “This is not one of them. I hope you feel the same.”

  “I do,” Brida whispered. She traced a finger along the line of Cynric's scar. “I never thought this is where my life would take me, but I do.”

  Cynric kissed her brow and pulled her closer, enveloping her with his warmth. “I will always protect you,” he said. Brida groped for Cynric's hand and held it tightly, letting the beating of his heart send her to sleep.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 32/40

  Command of the Dragon

  Arielle hummed a melodious hymn to herself softly as she absent-mindedly brushed her fingers across the tall, tangled wildflowers surrounding her. Her head was tilted back, letting the cool breeze of the early autumn night caress her face as she focused on the dazzling lights of Ansuul, the floating, shining city, which hung high above the rising moon. She watched a plane lazily fly away from the twinkling skyline, its flashing wingtip lights winking back at the luxe cityscape.

  “Arielle!” cried the voice of her haughty older sister, echoing from the shadowy valley below. “Arielle, come down here, now!”

  “I have to go,” Arielle said in a fierce whisper to the three small glowing fairies that swirled around her. She peeked around the corner of her secret, shaded nook etched into the hillside to see if the Dragonruu guards were paying attention.

  The stout, twin Dragonruu guards shifted their heavy feet and snorted nonchalantly. They stood in their fully shifted dragon form at the gates of the twisting pathway that led up the side of the mountain to an elevator-like tube. They were there to stop any human who dared try to pass the gates to gain access to the lift that separated Ansuul and Denbyshire. Ansuul was the floating, glittering city where the fierce and far-advanced race of Dragonruu conducted their fast-paced lives; while Denbyshire was a smaller city nestled in the valley, where humans resided entirely separately from Ansuul.

  Her hidden grotto was Arielle’s refuge – it was the highest point in Denbyshire, and allowed a fantastic view of Ansuul’s majestic skyline. Every time she made these late night voyages, it was always a serious risk. There was always the possibility of being seen by the ruthless guards, who always guarded the gate. Humans, and Dragonruu for that matter, were not supposed to wander out this far into what was known as the ‘Outlands’.

  Ansuul and Denbyshire were in closest proximity to each other here in this wretched region. Only the fairies, witches, or cursed beasts, who had once been experimented on and dumped by the cruel Dragonruu, roamed the Outlands in eternal purgatory. If she were caught in the Outlands, the best Arielle could hope for was to be reported for misdemeanor behavior, which meant being forced to perform punishing deeds for the Dragonruu. At worst, the guards could chase her down and ravage her on the spot, if she managed to provoke their volatile nature so.

  Arielle darted through the swaying, tall grass warily, soon catching up to her sister and their family’s horse, Annabelle. Caroline, the oldest sister out of the five girls, swiftly picked up Arielle’s light body by an arm, swooping her onto Annabelle’s back behind her.

  “You missed vocal rehearsal AGAIN, Arielle. Not only is Ms. Hollingway furious, but she notified Mom and Dad this time! You’re NEVER going to make your way to Ansuul!”

  Caroline’s threat hurt worse than the throbbing pain in Arielle’s shoulder from where she had grabbed her. She shifted in the saddle uncomfortably without replying, as Caroline heeled Annabelle’s loping canter into a gallop.

  She looked over her shoulder woefully, yet still feeling mystified, as Ansuul’s neon lights began to fade out of sight. Arielle had a stubborn nature, and her grandiose dreams certainly reflected that. Her awe and wonder of the great Dragonruu race was shared among all human citizens of Denbyshire. But, Arielle yearned for more; she wanted to see humans become truly accepted among the Dragonruu, coexisting with them peacefully in both cities. But, the Dragonruu remained relentless in keeping their race pure and separate from humankind. They did not dare, nor care, ever to accept a human among their own kind as an equal. In fact, they only used the humans’ talents for entertainment purposes only.

  Though the Dragonruu males and females were genetically modified into aesthetic perfection that always captivated the imperfect humans’ attention, they lacked inner beauty. They had no empathy, could not express compassion, and were unable to love. Thus, they were fascinated by both the frailty and range of emotions humans possessed and could portray through singing, dancing, or acting. However, the boundaries between the two races remained quite impermeable. Things had been that way ever since the Dragonruu’s wayward spaceship crashed upon Denbyshire’s shores over a hundred years ago.

  The Dragonruu in that spaceship instantly knew upon their unplanned arrival that they had intruded onto a world they could easily rule over. Though they looked like beautiful human beings on the outside, possessed extremely high levels of intelligence, and had advanced sensory systems, they held an innate, dark secret: each Dragonruu was able to shape-shift quickly into a fierce, fire breathing, clawed and scaly dragon form, one that easily garnered the agility and strength of a thousand men to one. The Dragonruu’s ferocity was undeniable, and the human ancestors quickly ceded their land over to the beasts after a quick and brutal defeat. The sinister beings enslaved the humans and capitalized on their abilities and talents to invest in the construction of a newfound and permanent kingdom that would reside high above.

  For
the next generations of humans, some detested the Dragonruu and lived bitter lives with secret plans of some newfound form of vengeance. Others, like Arielle’s family, learned to accept the way things were and abide by Dragonruu law. Many families had built up a business rapport with the Dragonruu, who allowed civil exchanges of goods, and invited the most talented humans to perform in Ansuul. Rules were very strict and punishments were savage, so most humans lived in giddy fear and awe of the mesmerizing and intimidating Dragonruu. They often worked their entire lives just for a slim opportunity to be invited to play in the lavish kingdom Ansuul.

  Arielle’s mother and sisters were seamstresses by day, sewing fanciful and original gowns that Dragonruu females sought out as novelty items to wear to big events and galas. Arielle’s father was a farmer – half of the profits he made from harvesting his crops and exporting them abroad were kept for the family, while the other half of the profits were collected every Friday evening at Twilight by the Dragonruu, during their regimented and precise once-a-week interaction with humans.

  The Dragonruu were free to do as they pleased when they entered Denbyshire. They could overtake a family’s house and throw a wild party, vandalize stores or steal from homes, and some of the sadistic dragon men even picked young, female human virgins to take into the woods in order to have their way with them. Other more refined and dignified Dragonruu were interested in pursuing humans in business matters only. Accountants would collect half of all humans’ weekly earnings; talent agents would scout at weekly auditions for talented humans to back up to Ansuul to perform there.

  Arielle finally twisted back around, gingerly holding tight to her sister’s slender frame as Annabelle galloped onwards towards their brick two-story home on the farm. Two of Arielle’s sisters had once been invited to personal callbacks by Dragonruu talent agents, but had been eliminated in a final round upon the agents’ final decisions. However, the girls were still awarded heavy amounts of prize money, which afforded the family to live in the modest home, as well as buy a horse and build a barn, which greatly aided in their father’s profession as a farmer. Arielle’s parents used most of the money they were allowed to keep to send their daughters to a performing arts school which specialized in vocals and theatre.

  Caroline, the oldest of the five girls, was a senior; Olivia and Erika, who were identical twins, were juniors; Angela, the fourth child, was a sophomore, and Arielle, the youngest, was a precocious freshman at the prestigious school. It was clear in the first practice session to Ms. Hollingway, the school’s stern and competitive vocal coach, that Arielle’s voice not only outshone her older sisters’, but the entire freshmen class. Ms. Hollingway was blown away with Arielle’s natural talent and was eager to fine-tune her skills to help her land an audition. Ms. Hollingway knew Arielle would triumph over the other girls and be plucked from the group easily.

  Arielle couldn’t help but steal one last glance back over her shoulder at the lights of Ansuul before black tree branches obscured them, as Annabelle pounded down the dirt pathway into the thick and spooky woods. Arielle dreaded the conversation with her parents and Ms. Hollingway. How could Arielle ever reveal her true dreams to anyone but the field fairies? She loved to sing, and she was confident in her nature-given talent, though she had a shier, more thoughtful demeanor than her sisters; Arielle was often lost in deep thought. She was also a very smart girl, and always curious.

  She heard through the fairies that the jazzy facade of Dragonruu show business hid a somewhat dismal future for young human talent. Human performers were harshly treated as objects only, and not always celebrated in the magical way the human population was tricked into believing. The desired and “celebrated” human talent, once they were accepted into Ansuul, constantly vied to keep up their popularity to enjoy the rewards and riches. But bound by contract, they were never allowed to return home, as they were too valuable to the Dragonruu. Those performers who had grown weary from being hustled about from show to show by their pushy and greedy agents and had faded from the spotlight, usually tended to somehow mysteriously “disappear” in the big city, and their friends and families never heard from them and about their adventures in Ansuul ever again.

  Arielle believed in the gossip from the travelling fairies she had befriended in the Outlands, and she refused to be marketed as a mere object. If she ever had her chance at fame in Ansuul, she dreamed that she would somehow teach the Dragonruu equality and acceptance of the human race. And, a secret fantasy throbbed deep within her young and spirited soul. She wondered, would it ever be possible for a human and Dragonruu to fall in love? She knew better than to voice her wonderings and desires to any other human. Even daring to think such thoughts was considered taboo. Dragonruu fed off the emotions elicited within them from human performers, like a recreational drug. But once the show was over, the feeling faded. They too, knew deep down that they were incapable of ever loving a human, and even each other, for that matter. It was awkward and uncomfortable for the Dragonruu even to bring up the subject of “love”. They only mated with their own kind for procreation, or divulged in lusty encounters with each other or the poor hapless humans back in Denbyshire for sheer physical pleasure.

  As the lights of Ansuul vanished completely behind the night foliage, Arielle came back to her senses from her reverie, finally turning to face forward into the whipping wind. As she strained her eyes to focus on the ominous woods ahead, a single tear squeezed out, quickly drying in the harsh and chilling air. This part of travel through the woods back and forth to her refuge was always intimidating, and now she just wanted to return home, though it was with dread, as she knew her parents would be furious to find out where she had been. One of her nosy younger sisters had ratted on her once again, and Caroline, as the oldest and most responsible, was sent out to fetch her once again. When was Arielle ever going to learn to follow the rules? But that was just it – she didn’t want to follow the rules. Her nervous heartbeat was competing with the drum of Annabelle’s hooves. She and Caroline were silent the rest of the ride home.

  *****

  Zefelli awoke quickly, sitting straight up in the pitch blackness. He had been sleeping so soundly only moments ago, with a harmonious, angelic voice filling his dreams. Now, the sound of thundering hooves neared as he peered out from around the side of the cavernous wall and squinted his blurry vision into focus, catching a flash of a sterling mare barreling its way to the winding woods, with what appeared to be two young humans on its back. Humans? Daring to stray out this far? Zefelli wondered to himself, as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. And then, his laser-like vision zoomed in on the flaming red hair of one of the girls.

  Zefelli was hidden high above in a cave, where there was no possible way for the girls to catch sight of him. As they were being carried away towards the winding woods, he hoped they were headed towards safety. He could smell their adrenaline-fueled panic that was being drowned out by what must have been their more usual and lovely gardenia female scent. The strawberry-haired maiden was looking back over her shoulder, with her big, doe-like eyes glinting light from Ansuul overhead. Her plush, pink lips were pouting. He had never seen a young, beautiful human look so mournful.

  What happened to them out here? Why did she gaze at Ansuul in what seemed to be such a longing way? And, didn’t she realize that she was supposed to follow orders and go through selection processes, if she ever had real hopes of making it to Ansuul? Zefelli was quite familiar with the humans’ fascination for Ansuul. Honestly? Sometimes, their naive visions of grandeur to exist among his fellow ruthless dragon people and their aggressively progressive, cutthroat society, shrouded in the clouds so far above, hailing as some futuristic nirvana – rather all disgusted him. Perhaps that is why he enjoyed this hidden and isolated spot he had discovered here - a deep cave that was far too high for humans to climb into. He had flown to it in his dragon form some time earlier, to find true peace and quiet from the hectic bustle of Ansuul.

  Zefelli reluctantly re
alized he needed to get home, too. He slowly rose to his feet, running a hand through his curly brown locks, gazing at the human girl until she disappeared into the rough and tall thickets of the black forest. The sparkly, ginger-haired beauty had truly baffled him, as the memory of the lovely music he had just heard in his dreams here in the cave delightfully returned to his head.

  Zefelli, a young Dragonruu prince, lived a life of riches behind an exclusive, gated, suburban area made up of a cloister of neighboring castles. His resilient family clan had earned royalties from generations back, and he had grown up more privileged than even common Dragonruu, who lived in superior sophistication in compared to humans. But, Zefelli tired of all the parties, traditional royal balls, and social galas that he and other gregarious clans attended to almost nightly, if they so chose to do so. All the female Dragonruu looked like clones of one another; perfectly proportioned size two models with pert breasts, slender legs, and tiny noses. He found himself no longer attracted to them. His eyes even began to wander towards male Dragonruu, which was not taboo in their society; but within his own family, it was indeed. They planned on Zefelli marrying one of his father’s comrades’ socialite daughters, to keep the family name and reputation perfectly polished.

  Zefelli would sometimes go in big groups down to Denbyshire on Fridays through the Tube, melding in with the crowd, but still feeling empty and alone inside. One night, after an evening of mindless partying, he had staggered away from the crowded streets and slipped into the shadows, numbly searching in the dark. He was lost, physically in the moment, and in his life. Where was his life going? He wondered, what if he could choose to do whatever he wanted to do, without massive repercussions? Serenading crickets filled his ears and the cobblestone street had turned to grass beneath his bare feet. He had somehow lost his shoes during the wild party, but the solid earth felt good between his toes; a reprieve from the city streets and the concrete jungle that was Ansuul. He continued to walk farther and farther into the woods, pondering his life in his vapid and hazed state, trying to find himself.