Sci-Fi & Fantasy Erotica: Volume 2 (Sci-Fi & Fantasy Erotica Series)

by Charlie Buxton

  "That was a night watcher, a charm of Necela. The goddess has given us her blessing."

  .....................................................................

  Shell craters surrounded Galen on all sides as artillery batteries fired off in the distance. Huge columns of dirt and smoke exploded all around him as a thousand screaming men came over a hill. Gun fire erupted as a red Communist star flag was raised over the crowd of rushing men. AK-47 rounds whizzed overhead as the tide of Vietnamese soldiers charge forward unleashing a wall of bullets.

  Galen hit the deck as rounds grazed his back and tore up the ground around him. Scared out of his mind, he searched for any sort of weapon around him. A rifle, a stick, a rock! There was nothing. Nothing except his bare hands.

  When he looked up again, seeing a new terror leaping in over the Vietnamese. A mass of howling Ra'zorlich warriors came charging out from the NVA lines with their claws out and glowing red with rage. Without warning, a river of blood poured down the hill, washing over the men and flooding into his foxhole. The crimson gore washed over his body as six corpses of Neko soldiers rose up from underneath the wave of blood. Even more of the red life gushed from the bullet holes riddled the Neko's bodies, so much so that a red tsunami washed away the army that had been charging in.

  It took Galen several second to register that it was in fact the blood of these six Nekos he was bathing in. Their skin was pale from death and their faces were twisted by rage as they closed in on him. The bullets holes in their body stopped bleeding, as if their bodies had run dry, but yet they still pressed toward Galen, moving faster, faster, running towards him.

  The Private could only scream as the undead felines came down upon him, their claws sinking into his flesh...

  "Gahh!" he yelled as he sat up, face slick with sweat. The cool air of the forest soaked through his damp fatigues; it would have brought him to a shiver were it not for the small fire that crackled in the pit. Galen quickly checked his hands for any sign of the crimson gore. To his relief, all he found was dried sap and dirt. The foxhole was gone, replaced by the soft field of grass that surrounded his downed plane.

  "Nightmare?" Michael asked.

  Galen turned to his Sergeant to see that Mila was changing his bandage, humming a tune as she did so.

  "Yeah... ain't the first time," he panted as he wiped the sweat off his face.

  "What is a 'nightmare'?" Mila asked, finishing Michael's dressing.

  "A dream that makes you live out your fears or regrets," Galen answered, pulling off his helmet to scratch his head.

  "Oh," Mila muttered. "What brought this nightmare?"

  Taking a sharp inhale as he stood up, Michael swung his arm onto Mila's shoulders and began to explain, "A couple nightmares are normal after you get your first taste of combat, especially after you have a brush with death. So actually I'd be more worried if he didn't get them, considering the wreck and the fight with the Razor licks."

  "I guess so," Galen muttered, turning to toward the fire.

  "Hey, Galen?"

  "Yes, Sergeant?"

  "Where did you hide the claymore on the supplies?"

  "Against the wall, under the pile of scrap beside the weapons crates."

  "What do we got for weapons?"

  "Couple pistols, one rifle, two if we count yours, a sniper, an M60 and a shotgun. Plenty of spare parts if you want to try and cobble together an M16. There's also a couple of bayonets, but no grenades."

  "Were those the weapons from the boys?"

  "Yeah, the pistols were. The M16s, the M60 and the shotgun came out of the weapons locker, the sniper belonged to Isles. I didn't think he'd need it anymore, and I didn't want the NVA to get their grimy hands on it."

  Michael gave him a nod of approval before moving with Mila toward the plane. The amount of strength contained in her body astonished Galen as she easily boosted Michael up into the C-130 and leaped up after him with ease. After about a minute, she came back out hauling the crate that contained the weapons, setting it down beside the fire before returning to the plane.

  "Sergeant, what are you doing?"

  "Everything here is coming with us."

  "Coming with us? Where? To Mila's camp?"

  "Village," the Neko corrected from inside the plane.

  "They are," Michael answered, "I ain't leaving them for some Ra'zorlich bastard to find and hunt us down with."

  An uncomfortable feeling drew Galen's attention to the hill at the end of the scar. He felt like something watched him from the darkness. It was the same feeling he got when he ventured out into the scar originally. The Private simply shook his head and climbed up into the craft.

  As Mila picked up another crate of supplies, the ammo crate by how the bullets and magazines rattled inside, Michael was lashing an arm rest from the pilot's seat onto the end of a metal pipe to put together a sort of crutch.

  "So what's the plan, are we going to carry the crates one at a time on Mila's back, all the way to her village?"

  "No," she interjected, "I will take Michael back to my people and return with help to carry these in one trip."

  There was an exceptional lack of Galen in that plan. "What am I to do?"

  With a sharp jerk on the string, Michael finished the knot of his crutch, "You're gonna stay here and guard the supplies until we get back. We're looking at a good two and a half hours round trip, so settle in, soldier."

  A depressed sigh escaped Galen as he answered, "Yes, sir."

  "Hey."

  The Private looked up to his Sergeant, who now stood independent of his feline friend. "Cheer up. We're alive, we found some friends, and we're not getting ourselves killed at the hands of the NVA. All things considered, we're doing pretty good."

  Galen nodded, but it didn't make anything easier. Eight dead men were trapped here with them, never again could their tags be brought home or their bodies be taken back. He didn't even know if there was a way for him and Michael to get back. What kind of closure would their families get? What would happen to his own mother?

  Horror flooded his mind as he thought of how she would react. For the second time in her life, a knock would come at her door, and there would stand an officer of the US Army handing her a note and a flag telling her that her boy wasn't coming home.

  A single tear traced Galen's cheek before he managed to wipe it away, hiding the fact that it had even emerged before Michael or Mila could see it.

  When the last of the four crates were pulled off the C-130, Michael and Mila gave Galen a quick goodbye and a 'See you soon' and headed off into the forest. Once again, the Private was on his own.

  Five minutes passed, then ten.

  Galen swapped out the bandage wrapped around his left bicep and then went back to guard duty.

  Twenty minutes passed.

  Nothing came through the area other than the odd bird overhead or a curious deer. If the people here would call that a deer. It had thick fur, massive antlers, and a slightly longer, bushier tail.

  At least the wild life hasn't changed... much.

  Another twenty minutes were killed off as Galen stripped his rifle down to its parts and pulled out his cleaning kit. He went through the weapon, cleaning out what gunk and dirt had built up during his day out in the wild.

  Just as Galen popped the last piece of his rifle back in place, something, or someone, off in the distance unleash a bird scattering shriek. The soldier immediately went on alert, loading a magazine in his rifle and racking the bolt to hear that satisfying clack. When the voice screamed out over the forest a second time, it became quite clear that it was female.

  The Private took off running. Whoever had screamed was in the opposite direction of the Ra'zorlichs, but also in a different direction than where Mila and Michael had gone. It didn't matter. Somebody was in trouble, and twenty rounds of 7.62 rock 'n roll was loaded into his weapon for whatever was harming this woman. An ass-kicking courtesy of Uncle Sam.

  After sprint a good forty
yards into the trees, the scream came again. This time, it was followed by desperate pleading in a foreign tongue. Whoever this damsel was, she didn't sound anything like a Nekonian. Safety off, Galen charged through a wall of brush and brought his rifle to bear.... although he didn't expect to find a monster standing fourteen feet high.

  From the back, it seemed somewhat human, although its flabby body was covered in a patchwork of pelts and furs poorly skinned from the unfortunate animals. Its hair was gnarled and so greasy that the oils literally peeled off its scalp. Moss, bugs, and branches covered this creature's body as if the thing had lain down in a swamp for years without moving. The smell alone made Galen nearly choke on his own gag reflex.

  And there, within the grasp of this monster's massive hands was a young woman. Frantically, she kicked and screamed, fighting as hard as she could as the monster raised her high above its head.

  "Me gonna squish elvy, make sticky paste," the beast chuckled.

  Tears were running down the girl's cheeks as the monster began to squeeze. Her screams became more shrill and agonized as the creature's knuckles slowly went white.

  "Halla!" cried the girl as she saw Galen, "Si tetlee neh, halla!"

  Rapid thumps in Galen's chest went next to pound in his ears. This beast was going to kill her!

  The back of the creature's skull came into the sights of his rifle as he cracked off a round. Hair and thick oils on his scalp exploded to reveal the white of skull underneath. Blood quickly poured into the gash in the skin and the monster roared in pain, loud enough to shake the ground beneath Galen's feet. The girl let out a yelp as she hit the ground, the creature turning around with its hand covering the back of its head.

  For such a massive body, the giant had tiny eyes, like two marbles dropped onto a batch of rising dough. Underneath these beady eyes sat a bulbous nose jutting out like a faucet from between two pudgy cheeks. Telling from the deep-set frown arching over its massive forehead, the monster probably wasn't very happy.

  "A human? A human hurt Gurple? Bad human! Make Gurple bleed! BAD HUMAN! GURPLE SMASH!"

  The earth itself seemed to tremble as Gurple rushed him, the giant's fists raised high. In the second before he might've been splattered into a fine paste, the Private unleashed a burst of automatic fire and leaped out of the way of the rampaging monster. Just as Galen's belly hit the ground, the force of the shaking earth tossed him back up, sending him several yards forward until he crashed into a bush.

  There was a thunderous groan as Gurple wept in pain, his sobs echoing deep through the trees and shaking some clean of their leaves. Grumbling himself, the Private stood up and pulled a thistle from his uniform and brushed off a couple of leaves from his pants. After sorting himself out, he finally turned to see how effective his attack was.

  The whole of the giant's right knee cap was blown away, with no sign that he was able to even move it as the joint had been destroyed. Blood dribbled down from the back of his skull, running down his neck into the crater formed when he landed. Gurple wasn't going to be hurting anything anytime soon, and this was Galen's chance to finish it off for good.

  Galen walked up alongside the monster, bringing his rifle up against its temple and returning the fire selector to 'semi'. With an angry glare narrowing his eyes, he cursed at the giant before preparing to pull the trigger.

  "Neya!"

  The Private stopped as the girl rushed up beside him and shoved the barrel of his rifle toward the ground. "Neya."

  Galen would have answered her, but his jaw struck the ground the second he laid eyes on the gem before him.

  A soft, tender hand pulled his trigger hand away from the rifle, holding it within its grasp before her lips touched his knuckle. Her long, ruffled green hair flowed down over her naked body, coming down low enough to nearly cover the golden peaks that tipped her beautiful breasts.

  The woman was a head shorter than Galen, with pale olive skin that had a rich gold undertone that seemingly shined in the morning light. The only thing that the girl wore was a thin pair of green, semi-transparent panties and a garter of vines holding a bone knife to her thigh. Her golden lips moved to smooch against Galen's cheek as her lashes beat down over her cloud white eyes, a warming smile drawing across her enchanting face. From ear, to long-pointed ear.

  "Come," she ordered uneasily in human language as she pulled Galen's hand.

  He stood frozen, petrified by her beauty; it made her giggle and gently pat a hand on the side of his cheek. "Tiya? Tiiiyaaa, huuumanaaaa, tiya?"

  Her angelic voice partially brought the soldier from his trance, enough for him to finally move his feet, at least. His mind, however, remained locked in pure bliss as he followed as this elven beauty, leaving the giant humanoid behind him groaning at its obliterated knee.

  .........................................................................

  "We gotta hurry!" Michael snapped as Mila hauled him over her back, sprinting full speed toward the direction of the gunshots. Behind them followed a pack of Willher warriors, five Neko males wearing hard leather armor. They were all much taller than Mila; their hard bodies bristling with muscle under their fur as they hardly broke a sweat to keep up with her.

  "You are sure this thunder comes from a human?" one of the warriors grunted.

  "I am," Mila huffed, "The sound of their weapons mimic a thunder storm in full strength, and strike with the force of a hundred war hammers."

  Her feline eyes scanned the area before her, wondering why Galen would have needed to fire his weapon in such a place. The Ra'zorlichs would never leave their territory. Lycans, though a bit feral at times, wouldn't attack unless provoked. Tree elves were the most passive race in the entirety of Atzla, if you could even find them. Any of the other races didn't roam this part of the forest. That only left... a troll.

  Atzlar help him if he encountered one of those.

  In all of Atzla forest, there were less than a dozen trolls, so their presence was a rare sight indeed as the giant monsters loved to sleep. They would sleep for years, but once they woke, they loved something else: destruction. Animals, trees, villages, people, anything they could get their hands on was considered dead.

  There was no reason for it, the trolls merely trampled over everything like oversized children who had yet to know better. The havoc they could wreak in the day or two they spent awake had, on several occasions, forced entire tribes to rebuild or start again from nothing as all that they had was crushed for the trolls' enjoyment.

  Once the trolls had their fun, they would seek a meal and go right back to sleep, sparing the people of the Atzla forest until another decided to rise from its slumber.

  "Oohhhhhhhhhh...!" roared a voice.

  Everyone in Michael's party froze solid as the thunderous voice groaned out over the trees.

  "What the Hell was that?" Michael asked.

  "Troll," Mila answered.

  "Troll?!" one of the warriors growled.

  "Do not worry, Warie, hearing the monster groan in such pain, the human likely put it down." she explained to her fellow Willherian.

  At once, the five Willher warriors glanced at one another in disbelief. The last man to have stood up against a troll on his own died a fine paste on a tree trunk. And yet, one human could take one down?

  With gentle grace, Mila let Michael down onto the ground, allowing him to move on his crutch toward the painful sobs ahead. The Sergeant forced his way through the brush, breaking trail so the Nekos could follow in behind. Sure enough, a dozen yards ahead, the massive body of a humanoid creature had impacted into the dirt, forming a crater around the wide flabs of his fatty body. Its wide face was pushed into the ground and the troll didn't seem like it was going to move any time soon.

  "Holy shit! That thing's huge!" Michael yelled as he stumbled forth.

  "And it's wounded. Look at its knee, my fellow warriors. Galen was here," Mila noted.

  These words made the other Nekos give stiff "hrmphs" of doubt, the cat m
en turning their noses up in a stubborn manner. It was impossible for a lone human to do such damage. There had to have been more; a dozen warriors with heavy spiked maces. But the ignorance shown by the Neko warriors didn't faze Michael or Mila; both of them knew what exactly Galen was capable of with his rifle.

  "Hey, troll!" Michael snapped as he approached the monster, jabbing it in its cheek with his crutch.

  Gurple slowly turned his head toward him, moaning in pain. "Go 'way, human! Gurple no like you no more. Make Gurple hurt with thunder."

  A wry grin crept up on the Sergeant's painted face. Definitely Galen's doing. "Alright, Gurple, the human that whooped your ass, where'd he go?"